Later that day...
Mordecai and Rigby are seated at a booth in Delta City's famous "Coffee Shop." Lying between them on top of the table is a gray laptop computer. Directly in front of them are plates of half-eaten food. Intensely they stare at the screen, oblivious to the two room-temperature half-eaten soggy turkey bacon wraps, sagging french fries, and flattening Cokes sitting before them.
"Yo, Mordecai! Check this out! IRON DRAGON, THE ULTIMATE IRON MAIDEN COVER BAND."
"The lead singer dude's even got a full-size tattoo of 'Evil Eddie' etched into his chest!" said an excited Rigby, gleefully pointing his figure at a bare-chested image of the lead singer on their homepage.
"I don't know Rigby. Heavy metal sounds a bit too much for the event. How about something more lowkey like these guys, a Steely Dan cover band?"
"Dude, that's lame. Steely Dan is 'dad music'," responded Rigby.
"Uh, hello! Most of the people going to this event are baby boomer types who are both of our Dad's age. Besides, aren't you taking your Dad along as your guest?"
"Only to show him that I, Rigobert Riegersson III, am not a total fuckup loser. Not to listen to his lame-ass music!"
Mordecai shook his head while Rigby's eyes lit up. He started thinking out loud about the prospect of finally showing-up his overachieving brother Donnie thus earning much-needed respect from his Dad.
"I can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees me on stage, award in hand... He will finally shut up about Donnie, and for once, congratulate me instead!"
"I'm calling them up," replied Mordecai.
Mordecai grabbed his phone and began to dial. "No, you're not!" said Rigby as he reached out, attempting to grab Mordecai's phone to prevent him from dialing.
"Dude, lay off my phone!" said Mordecai as they struggled. Finally, Mordecai was able to pry Rigby's hands off of his phone, only to have it slip out and land on the floor, cracking its screen.
"Dude, what's wrong with you!?" yelled Mordecai to his friend, "Look what you did! [holding up the cracked phone]"
"What do you mean? You're the one who dropped it!"
Mordecai, let out a "Hmmph" then punched his friend in the tricep.
"Yeowch!" Rigby screamed in pain and rubbed his sore arm.
Mordecai ignored him and called the Steely Dan cover band:
"Hello, is this Walter Fagen?
Oh, sorry, you're his agent.
Anyways. Hi, my name is Mordecai, and I work for the Delta City Dept of Parks and Conservation.
And, I'm calling to see if the band is interested in performing at our annual gala on the 27th...
What's that? Oh... You say already have a gig that night?
Well, ummm, sorry to bother you then, have a good one."
"Damnit. That is the 15th rejection so far. All the bands I interviewed so far are either booked or they suck."
"Should've called Iron Dragon instead" replied Rigby with a straight face.
"Rigby, I am not calling 'Iron Dragon'"
"Iron Dragon! Iron Dragon! Iron Dragon!"
Rigby repeated the band's name until cut off by Eileen calling out to them from across the room.
"Hey, Rigby! Hey, Mordecai!"
"Oh Hi Eileen!" they replied in unison.
"Whatcha doing over there? I haven't seen either of you touch your food in almost 2 hours."
"Nothing really, just trying to pick out bands for a party," said Mordecai, with slight sadness in his voice.
"OOO! What kind of party?"
"Just The Annual Gala."
"What's that?"
"Just a party where Maellard and bunch of important rich people dress up and schmooze over wine and hors d'oeuvres, supposedly to raise money for the park," replied Rigby, before Mordecai had a chance to speak.
"Like a ball?" asked Eileen, eyes lighting up.
For a moment, she envisioned herself in a luxurious ballroom overlooking a beautiful lake surrounded by mountains.
Judging by the ornate trim work, the facility must have been built in the 1800's.
A chamber orchestra was playing "Blue Danube" in the background. She wore beautiful pink dress, that looked like it belonged in a fairytale.
Just then, a handsomely dressed Rigby wearing a black tuxedo walked up to her. He reached out and lifted one of her lace-gloved hands. "M'lady. May I take this dance?"
"Yeah, you could say that," Rigby replied as Eileen's vision ended.
"That sounds so cool!" replied or rather squealed the bespectacled mole.
"Well, it won't be if we can't find a band," interjected a dejected Mordecai.
With a sigh, he explained their predicament to Eileen.
"So anyway, we cannot find a band. Our event is on April 27th. That's less than 3 weeks from today. We've spent the past two hours asking around, maybe a dozen bands or so. And everyone damn one we've talked to is booked solid for months."
"I guess it's a lost cause. We won't get a band. The party will suck. Benson will fire us for sure [turning towards Rigby] and we'll be forced to live at home with our parents like a bunch of losers."
"Ahhh, Don't say that! I will admit that I can't help you here. I don't know enough 'bout the local music scene. But, I am pretty sure Margaret can. She took a course in music journalism in her last semester at community college and got to know several of the local artists and bands. From what I understand, she has kept in contact with at least some of them."
Mordecai's eyes lit up hearing Margaret's name. "I did not know that. Is she here?" he asked.
Upon hearing Mordecai ask about Margaret, Rigby pulled two small green army men action figures hidden deep in his fur and started playing with them intensely.
"Not yet, but she will be soon. Her shift starts in an hour." Eileen replied.
"I can try calling her now if you like; see if she can come early to help you two out."
"Awesome! Yeah, go do that. Let me know what she says."
Eileen stepped into the kitchen and called Margaret. She explained to her the situation...
"Nice, see ya soon! Goodbye." Eileen hung up that phone, walking back into the seating area.
"So what did she say?" asked Mordecai.
"She'll be here in half an hour," replied Eileen.
"Cool, we'll just play some games in the meantime!" said Mordecai excitedly as he opened up Minesweeper.
Now was his chance to ask Margaret to come along as his date, he thought. As she will be helping to pick out the band, she might be more receptive. Better still, he can ask her out casually without needing to use one of those calligraphy-laden formal invitations handed to him by Benson. Mordecai made a disgusted face as he opened and read the gold 2x4 invitation with its gold leaf border and scribbly cursive:
"Esteemed Guest.
You have been cordially invited to attend our One-Hundredth Annual Spring Gala, held on the twenty-seventh day of April, Two-thousand and Seven,
beginning that evening at six o'clock and ending around ten. We look forward to your arrival. Sincerely, Benson Dunwoody, Park Manager. RSVP"
"Yuck, who writes these things?" he thought.
Pointing to their food, Eileen offered them a sensible alternative: "Or, you can just eat the sandwiches you ordered and spent your money on."
"Well, technically, we're not paying for them. Benson's letting us expense 'em."
"So you're turning down a free meal?" asked a puzzled Eileen.
Mordecai looked up at her and shook his head no. Meanwhile, Rigby was still playing with his action figures.
Eileen bent down, taking their plates back to the kitchen. She didn't bother disturbing Rigby, who by now built a bunker for his men out of sugar packets and had a spoon set up as a catapult, ready to launch projectiles made from balled-up straw wrappers at an unseen enemy.
"I'll go and warm these up. Should only be a couple of minutes," she said walking away.
A couple of minutes later, Eileen returned with the sandwiches.
"I had the Cook heat these up for you. Much better now, aren't they?"
Eileen took their sodas to the soda fountain, where she dumped their contents and refilled them with fresh Coke and ice.
"Here, you'll probably need these as well," she said upon returning with their refilled Cokes.
Engrossed in play, Rigby didn't notice until the smell of the warm food hit his nostrils.
Now salivating from the aroma, Rigby stopped playing with his action figures and stared down at his plate.
Without saying a word, Rigby put away his toys and shoved the food into his mouth.
Upon seeing his friend's lack of table manners, Mordecai rolled his eyes and began to eat his food politely.
Mouth open and full of half-chewed food, Rigby began talking to Eileen. Eileen listened, trying hard not to be grossed out by the spectacle unfolding in Rigby's mouth.
"Thank you, Eileen, for doing this. These sandwiches are amazing! Hats off to the cook, as well!"
Rigby quickly grabbed a french fry and waved it excitedly while saying, "Even the fries are still crisp. Just think, we would've let these go to waste, all because Mordecai over here is too busy to eat. And me being the gentleman, would rather help him in his time of need than eat without him. Amirite, MOR-D-CAI?" said Rigby, playfully glaring at his friend.
Mordecai swallowed his food first before responding in a deadpan manner:
"A true gentleman doesn't talk with food in his mouth."
Upon which Eileen, Mordecai, and Rigby broke into laughter.
After what seemed like 5 minutes of laughter, Eileen looked around and saw a new customer sitting nervously at the counter, drumming his fingers on the Formica surface.
"Ummm, guys?"
"Yes," said Mordecai; Rigby was still laughing.
"I gotta go. Do you two need anything?"
"Naw, I'm fine," replied Mordecai.
"Me too," replied Rigby as he stopped giggling.
The pair resumed eating while Eileen left to help the customer.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The talking with food in his mouth bit is my attempt at highlighting Rigby's slovenly mannerisms, as he is a raccoon (actually, raccoons are quite clean since they wash their hands and food regularly, but they are stereotyped as dirty animals).
Also, I hope you got a kick out of my cover band names, and my fictional frontman, Walter Fagen, whose name is an anagram of the two guys in Steely Dan (Wait, It's 2 Guys!? LOL). Walter Becker + Donald Fagen.
Leave a comment if you like.
