In the empty void, the spirit of the Key-per entered. "Oh-my-this-place-hasn't-aged-a-day!" He said in his usually quickened speed. All around was a crushing, empty blackness. "I-LOVE-what-you've-done-with-the-place-10,000-years-trapped-here-and-not-much-has-changed-Haha-Mr.-Lich-if-that's-what-they're-calling-you-these-days-Can-I-call-you-something-more-homely-like-Bert?-I-like-Bert-You-like-Bert?"
Two green eyes peered from the blackness.
"Haha-I-guess-the-Lich-works-just-fine-You-don't-talk-much-do-you?-Of-course-you-don't-So-it's-been-about-647-years-four-months-eighteen-days-thirteen-hours-and-2360-seconds-since-the-last-time-you-stretched-your-legs-give-or-take-a-few-years-and-even-longer-since-I-visited-even-though-it-is-my-job-after-all-I-guess-I-won't-get-employee-of-the-millennium-ahahaha!"
The demon peered out, silent.
"Okay-so-just-taking-a-look-around-and-guessing-you-want-to-go-back-into-work-especially-since-the-last-guy-was-a-bust-You've-got-the-sappy-blue-jay-kid-but-he's-sort-of-a-wreck-and-a-no-go-and-an-idiot-raccoon-who-you-shouldn't-bother-with-I-don't-think-he-gets-anything-but-there's-this-gumball-machine-Jeez-I-can't-believe-I'm-saying-these-things-out-loud-I-must-sound-ridiculous-Do-I-sound-ridiculous?-I-probably-sound-ridiculous-Fat-guy-you-can-pass-but-the-yeti-character-is-quite-an-interesting-fella-whom-I-think-"
"You can bring me the boy."
"Aha… Ahem… Y-You-sure?"
"You can bring me the boy."
"Mr.-Lich-I-don't-tell-you-how-to-do-your-job-but-a-chance-like-this-comes-out-in-maybe-"
"You can bring me the boy."
"I-I-can-arrange-a-one-time-attention-grabber-and-get-you-closer-and-that's-all-I-can-do-but-other-than-that-it's-up-to-you-and-since-you're-powers-are-kind-of-horribly-weak-in-here-and-I-don't-think-he-"
"You can bring me the boy."
"Are-"
"You can bring me the boy."
His voice resonated throughout the empty abyss, shaking and quivering the dead air. Each word echoed louder and louder as his eyes stared deathly at the spirit before him.
"You can bring me the boy."
"… You will bring me the boy."
"Hmmmmmmmmmm-okay-I'll-stick-around-for-that-then-it's-goodbye-for-another-2396-years-or-so-It's-your-funeral-after-all-See-Ya!"
The demon rested as his being faded back into nothingness.
"WOAH DUDE!" Rigby exclaimed as he picked up the book bag Mordecai had found in the lake. He had just left it in the kitchen. Rigby was about to search its contents, but he thought it better to have Mordecai show everyone what HE had saved his life for…
Whatever this was, it looked horrendous. He simply had to check if amount of ironic humor enclosed in this book was unimaginable. This was going to be the most cringe-worthy, laughable experience of the night. Rigby needed something to calm himself down from before. He simply had to read it.
This was going to be terrible, atrocious. He simply had to read it.
Since Mordecai was probably balling his eyes out in their room, Rigby decided the kitchen was the best spot to crack open this cheesy book. " Jeez, even I can do better than this!" he gawked at the cover. It was so corny and cheap. He simply had to read it.
He simply had to read it.
He re-opened to the first page, no problems this time. It was completely blank, except for a single paragraph written in the middle of the page. He read quietly to himself.
"There is no fate for that which we do not make for ourselves." It is this belief that drives man through its darkest hour and through the unknown abyss. They ignorantly live believing their actions reflect upon the world though they are really nothing more than a brick in an endless wall, frozen in place alongside millions like it and serving a single purpose forever. The true deliverance comes with knowing the truth. Nothing belongs to ourselves. Everything is an artificial cycle endlessly encompassing all that exists. When this becomes realized; there is no fear, no longing, no remorse. You, Rigby, will learn this on your own soon enough."
If Rigby wasn't scared before, he was terrified now. "It knows my name, how the H does it know my name?!" He closed the book and threw it to the corner of the room. What on earth should he do? Get rid of it? Take it to Skips? He sat there as the minutes rolled by, staring at it. It
Eventually, Rigby's mind faltered and slowed. He eventually narrowed down what he was going to do. He heard something, maybe in his own head, but it was definitely something: "What are you waiting for, open it…"
Rigby knew what he was doing, how wrong this could lead. He was frantic, nervous, scared, excited, terrified, a million things running through his head at once. Knots in his stomach, a pounding on his head, all happening at once… And Rigby was enjoying it all…
Page by page Rigby dived through the book. He didn't know why he had been afraid earlier. "'Magic' give me a break. Most chump book I've ever read!" Rigby claimed. What "spells" the book did have had the stupidest names believable with, according to Rigby, chump drawings to go alongside. "I could make a better book in my sleep!" Cover-to-cover, Rigby blew threw it in less than an hour, ironically one of the only books he actually read that year. But something seemed to still be attracting him to the book.
He hardly believed this book was anything special… but then again… after all the supernatural encounters he's had over the years at the park, and what just happened to Mordecai… Deep down he knew this was legit, the real deal. He just did not want to admit it to himself.
"Okay, just one spell. That's it, just one. Then I'll give this to Skips." He quickly flipped through the book. "Come on, give me a good one." There! There was no name to it, but the illustration looked cool. Fire from your hands? What could be cooler?!
Now the problem was trying to figure out how to work this stupid thing. Well, in the movies they always cleared their minds or something like that. So, Rigby headed that sound logic and tried to clear his mind, unsuccessfully.
"You know what to do."
Rigby snapped up. He knew he heard something this time. It was not from his own head. "Who's there?" Rigby called out. There was no response.
He turned back to the book.
He concentrated, trying to clear his mind. He closed his eyes. The image depicted someone bringing their arms down to produce a ball of fire. He tried to replicate it, snapping his arm and wrist downwards. He tried over and over producing only a snapping sound with his fingers.
He tried to focus his mind and concentrate on something. Yet, a million images were jammed into his subconscious. He could not describe them, they were cague shapes and colors, but he knew how it made him feel: Angry. For some reason, the front of his head surged as he felt himself bottling up. He snapped and brought down his wrist again.
A sudden woosh of a type of green like fire appeared from the palm of his hand. It was barely warm, and was almost cool to Rigby's touch. "This is awesome!" Rigby yelled. Indeed it was the coolest thing he had seen. This was until it began to grow. It grew without control. The flame was getting bigger and bigger and bigger, absorbing his whole hand. "NOT AWESOME!" He tried shaking it off to no avail. He was panicking now, "GET OFF OF ME!" He flicked his arm downward, and the fireball flew from his hand.
"Oh shi-!" The fire ball slammed against the wall, making a small poof of fire. It was enough though to catch the wall. "Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!" Rigby was frantically saying to himself as he went for the fire extinguisher. As quickly as he could, he put the fire out, but the fire alarm over the sink still went off. "Goddammit!" he screamed as he quickly turned the alarm off.
"RIGBY!" Benson screamed from upstairs. Benson did not even have to see what happened to know who caused the alarm. He was already on edge from before, but now…
Rigby was frantic. He couldn't let them find the book. He threw the book into the first cupboard he could find. "Come on Rigby, make up a story, a scene, an excuse. You're good at this!" he muttered to himself. He grabbed an armload of random cooking equipment and threw it on the counter. By the time he turned around Benson was already at the door, his face blood red, with Pops behind him.
"WHAT DID YOU DO? LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID TO THE WALL! THERE'S A HOLE IN THE MIDDLE OF IT! YOU DIDN'T EVEN CLEAN THE LIVING ROOM!" Benson screamed at Rigby.
Almost too nervous to answer, Rigby replied, "I was hungry, so I-I-I was making a quick snack"
"At the oven… 10 feet away from the burn spot…" Benson remarked. The cooking equipment was all over the place with some bowls and pans lying on the floor.
Rigby could only shrug his comments off.
"Rigby, I can't believe you sometimes!" Rigby was wincing his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. "RIGBY, YOU'RE FI-"
"Benson!" Pops finally intervened, "Rigby has been improving over the past year. It was an honest mistake… wasn't it Rigby?" Pops said as he glared at Rigby. Even Pops was getting tired at times of covering Rigby's mistakes.
"Yeah, totally! It was an honest mistake! You can take it out of my pay-check if you want to."
Benson was now being opposed by both Rigby AND Pops now. Rigby he could care less for, but Pops in a way was HIS boss. He didn't want to make this any worse than it was. He sighed in defeat, "Alright, fine Rigby, apology accepted. But you're fixing this wall AND cleaning the other room, TONIGHT!"
"Ah, what?! But it's like eleven at night!" Rigby complained.
"No buts! There's plaster and paint in the basement, NOW GET TO WORK!" Benson yelled. "unbelievable…" he muttered as Pops and he walked out of the room.
Rigby was spared, this time. He went back to the cupboard and picked up the Enchiridion. " What ever this is, it's unlike anything I've ever seen before, " Rigby thought to himself. It's magical, it's possessed, it's almost like it was evil. It is NOT safe. But he could care less. He almost got a kind of excitement out of it. The thrill and the adrenaline of that much power was unlike anything he ever felt before in his life.
"… I need to try this again…"
