Thursday Morning, 2:30 am. Park House living room


Mordecai and Rigby are both still up getting high, playing video games, drinking beer and energy drinks.

Rigby is busy playing Halo, single-player campaign mode, on the Xbox he got for Christmas last year. Curses and cheers emanate from his mouth when his character dies or completes a vital mission.

Sitting next to him is Mordecai, eyes half-closed, quietly listening to music. Balanced on his slouched chest is a Walkman, connected to a pair of headphones, the sound of Rush's 2112 leaking out of his ears. In his left hand, he holds a beer. In his right hand, he holds a cigarette.

Mordecai is a quiet stoner, just trying to relax and enjoy his high. Rigby, the complete opposite, is hyperactive and desperate for conversation.

In between the curses and cheers, Rigby poses questions to Mordecai. His questions go unanswered, prompting frequent changes in topic in hope of evoking a response. This cycle repeats, until Rigby lands on a particular topic, one he feels is central to Mordecai's well-being. Here he waits in a holding pattern, asking away until Mordecai is forced to remove his headphones and acknowledge him.


"Gees Rigby, can you stop talking for one goddamn minute so that I can enjoy my fucking high!?" said an annoyed Mordecai as the feather on the back of his neck ruffled.

"Bro, Relax! I'm just trying to have a casual conversation," Rigby quickly replied.

"Me? Relax? How can I? When you won't shut up!"

"Sorry, I just wanted to talk to you about something."

"Bro, I'm worried about you."

"Don't be."

"It's about Margaret."

"What about her?" sighed Mordecai.

"I don't think you should see her anymore."

"Why? Is it because I spent too much time with her? Man, you're just jealous that I have a girlfriend," said Mordecai nonchalantly as he closed his eyes, hoping that Rigby would leave him alone.

"No, I'm not jealous. How can I be jealous of someone for something they don't even have? It's like this: neither of us own cars, so why should I be jealous of you owning a car?" said Rigby, raising his voice to a whining pitch.

"Dude, shut up!" said Mordecai.

"No, seriously! Hear me out! You have two girls: one you're in love with, but she put you in the friendzone; the other you like as a friend but aren't attracted to her any further. Unfortunately, because you still like her and you want to keep your options open, you keep talking to her only to lead her on."

"Whatever, dude! Margaret and I aren't in the friend zone... Furthermore, I don't see why you have a problem with me keeping CJ on my friendslist; I like the photos she posts on Facespace."

"Well then, Don Juan! Is that so? Please tell me, what's the furthest you gone with Margaret?"

Rigby's question made Mordecai feel uneasy and uncomfortable.

"Umm. Ummm..." muttered Mordecai in hesitation before blurting out.

"Dude! I don't ask you about your love life!" said an angry Mordecai; his feathers ruffled again on the back of his neck.

Rigby stared at him inquisitively, still waiting for a valid response.

"Screw this! I'm grabbing a beer," said Mordecai as he rose from the couch, hoping that Rigby would change the subject or leave him alone.

"Bro, just answer the question," Rigby responded. Mordecai was only a few feet away.

There he stood, hovering menacingly over Rigby, his right hand slowly clenching into a fist.

"Why? So you can make fun of me?" said Mordecai to Rigby as he cocked his fist, ready to punch him in the arm once more.

"Jesus Christ, Bro! Don't be so frickin' defensive! I am just trying to help. I don't want to see my best friend get hurt by some girl who might not truly love him." Rigby pleaded. His eyes got misty. For a second, Mordecai thought his best friend was about to cry.

Seeing the sincerity in Rigby's eyes and hearing it in his voice, Mordecai slowly unclenched his fist and sat down beside his friend. "Fine, I'll answer your question," said he.

Leaning back into the couch, Mordecai closed his eyes and strained his brain as he attempted to recall everything he and Margaret had done so far.

"Well, we've kissed, and we've, um, um, um..." said Mordecai.

"Continue," responded Rigby.

Unfortunately, Mordecai could only say "um."

Rigby decided to be more direct in the hope of forcing an answer.

"Did you guys have sex?"

Mordecai paused for a moment, bowed his head, and sheepishly shook it from side to side.

"Did she give you a handjob?"

"Dude! What the hell kind of question is that!"

"Just answer the question."

"No," said Mordecai as he shook his head side-to-side.

"Have you seen her naked?"

Once again, Mordecai shook his head side-to-side.

"Did she let you cop a feel?"

Again, no.

"Has she seen you naked?"

This time, Mordecai shook his head up and down.

"Cool, dude... but that doesn't count. Neither of us wears clothes."

They both laughed for a minute before Rigby returned the conversation to the topic at hand.

"How many dates have you been on?"

"At least fifteen," replied Mordecai laconically.

"OK, I know you don't like hearing me say this, but you're definitely in the friendzone. Simple facts, man: I don't think it took Muscleman and Starla that many times before they started to get it on. And I know that Margaret didn't have to date Crusher fifteen times before hooking up with him. How'd I know? Eileen told me."

"Listen, Mordecai. You've been at bat fifteen times. I'm not asking you to score a home run, but the fact of the matter is you haven't even gotten past first base. That, my friend, should tell you something."

Rigby paused and waited for his words to sink in. After several minutes of awkward silence, Rigby decides to take another hit of weed before checking on his friend.

"Mordo?"

"What!?" said Mordecai, simultaneously feeling annoyed and dejected.

Rigby returned a concerned look, he could see the agitation and worry emanating from his friend's face. While Mordecai is too prideful to admit defeat with words, his body language told the story.

"Got anything to say?" asked Rigby, after a short pause.

Mordecai, averting eye contact, instead glanced at the wall clock. Seeing it was 3:00 am, he formulated his exit strategy: he will go to sleep.

"Fuck it. I'm going to bed."

"Ah, C'mon!"

"No, Rigby! It's 3 am."

"Shit! You're right!" said Rigby as he glanced at the clock.

Down on all fours, like a wild animal, he ran up the stairs to his bed. "See ya in the morning, Mordo!" he exclaimed as he zipped away.

"Yeah, see...you...in...the...morning," said a now depressed Mordecai.

"I probably should hide this bong first so Benson won't find it in the morning. Not ready to get fired", he thought as he walked upstairs, bong in hand.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is shorter than the others, but it contains an important conversation that drives home one of Mordecai's critical concerns throughout the story. Does Margaret like him "like that?" I also want to highlight that Rigby never loses faith in his best friend despite the abuse he suffers. He is always there to help him out by offering him the truth, even if it hurts.