Soda Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Through the keyhole.

The early evening sun warmed his back as he cradled the cold cup of soda in his hands. An icy lemonade after a long, hot and stressful day was just what was needed. He traced his finger through the cool condensation on the paper surface, watching as the droplets of water rolled across his feathers as he thought of the day’s events.
“I just don’t know what else to say, man. I’m sorry that Skips freaked out and attacked you.” He repeated himself, still not feeling that sorry was quite enough. Anders seemed unusually level-headed about what had happened though; mostly focused on resetting one of his teeth. He was holding down his molar in to his gums, wincing as it touched some sensitive nerves. He occasionally mopped away some bloody saliva from his lips with a paper napkin.
	“It’s okay.” He murmured around his fingers, brushing his hair from his face with his free hand.
	“It’s not okay, dude. He hit you really, really hard. If we didn’t stop him, he could have killed you.”
	“He could never kill me, man. You gotta go to town on someone real bad if you’re gonna kill them.” Anders shrugged it off, sipping at some water and gargling it. He spat it out on to the concrete, leaving a frothy red-orange splatter on the ground.
	“He killed me by arm wrestling, once.” Rigby interjected. Mordecai glared, trying to get him to be quiet. He didn’t want him to take it any further, lest Anders ask too much about the legitimacy of his statement. The badger stared at Rigby, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
	“He obviously didn’t kill you, Rigby.”
	“He did tho-“
	“Dude that was a dream, remember?” Mordecai interrupted him, trying to curb any questions he might have. When Rigby looked like he was going to reply to the contrary, he received a sharp, bird-footed kick to the shin. He yelped, knocking his own soda on to the floor.
	“Yeah. A dream.” Rigby scowled, attempting to kick Mordecai back, but missing due to his short legs.
	“Anyway, I really hope he doesn’t do it again.” Mordecai continued, feeling somehow responsible for the way Skips had treated him.
	“It’s nothing, seriously. I get in to scraps all the time. You ever been in a bar during closing-time?” He left the question hanging there, knowing they hadn’t. Rigby’s ongoing intoxication was evidence enough.
	“Dude, Skips isn’t normally like that though.” Mordecai motioned with his hands; thankful that they weren’t confined to his crutches for the time being. He wanted to get across just how serious it was when Skips took such a drastic approach to someone.
	“Maybe he just thought I was attacking Rigby? I mean, he was on my shoulder when he smacked me in the chest.” Anders seemed to be far too reasonable about the assault. Mordecai had expected him to retaliate, respond in kind. That, or he expected him to press charges.
	“Yeah, maybe.” He thought for a moment, picking up his lemonade and slurping at it.
	“Mordecai gimme your soda.” Rigby barked, feeling upset after having spilled his own.
	“No way, man.” Mordecai took another swig.
	“No fair!” He complained, whining in his typical manner. “You made me spill mine!”
	“No dude.”
	“Hmph!” Rigby slumped over the table, folding his arms. He put on his best pout, staring at Mordecai as if willing his drink to spill in to his lap.
	“So, where do you think he went? Skips, was it?” Anders inquired, finally removing his fingers from his mouth, satisfied that his tooth was going to stay put without assistance.
	“I don’t know, man. He looked pretty freaked though.” Mordecai was still slightly spooked by the yeti’s outburst. He could still see his snarling expression in his mind.
	“You think he’ll try it again?” Anders didn’t sound worried at all; merely curious, almost as if he wanted Skips to reappear.
	“Maybe. He looked kinda upset when he left, though.” Mordecai gulped more lemonade, thankful of the cooling sensation in his stomach. It distracted him from his aching foot and the unsettling recent memories.
	“Mordecai, c’mon, gimme the soda!” Rigby whined.
	“No!” He yelled in response, already starting to get sick of his complaining.
	“C’mon, dude, I really need a drink!”
	“No! Buy another one!”
	“Dude, you know I don’t have any money!” Their bickering was trivial, but Anders found it at least mildly entertaining. It took his mind off of his swollen jaw, making him smile.
	“Well, I paid for the one you spilled! I’m not paying for another one.”
	“I thought you were my friend.” Rigby’s response was underhanded, questioning their friendship for the sake of some spilled sugar-water. Even though it was his most potent weapon in his persuasive arsenal, Mordecai didn’t buy it.
	“Stop being such a crybaby, Rigby!” He watched as the raccoon pouted all the more, looking dejected. There was no more than mouthful of the beverage left in the cup. Mordecai watched for as long as he could manage, as Rigby tried to coerce him with puppy-dog eyes. “Ugh! Fine! Here, have the stupid soda.” He slammed the cup down in front of him, making the contents splash out of it. Rigby avoided the droplets as they landed on the table, greedily snatching up the cup and pouring what was left of the lemonade on to his tongue.
	“Thanks Mordecai.” Rigby smiled politely, but Mordecai could only perceive smugness.
	“Pfft.” He huffed, rolling his eyes.
	“Aw, that’s cute.” Anders slowly began to return to his mischievous self. “Just like a married couple.” Mordecai and Rigby both glowered at the badger.
	“Not cool.” Mordecai began.
	“So not cool.” Rigby added.
	“Aw c’mon guys. It was a joke! Lighten up.” Anders grinned at them both, shrugging in an exaggerated fashion. They were quiet for a second. He was right, though they didn’t want to admit it. It was only a joke.
	“Even so, lay off the married couple jokes, kay?” Rigby demanded.
	“And the c’mon guys jokes?” Anders asked.
	“What?”
	“Never mind.” He let the joke sail over the raccoon’s head, dropping it from then on. Mordecai slapped his forehead with his palm.
	“Lame.” He commented, causing the badger to chuckle. He followed his laughter up with another sip of water and a sigh.
	“So, what do we do now?” Anders asked, crushing the small plastic bottle in his hands now that it was empty. Mordecai hummed for a moment, resting his head on his palm, supported by his elbow on the picnic table.
	“Who knows, dude?” He took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as he thought of what to do. It was only the early evening, but he knew that at some point they would have to split up. Mordecai, whether he liked it or not, still had work the following morning. He was fairly sure that he was the only one earning money between the three of them, but he couldn’t be sure about Anders. He was almost certain that he was a tourist, so he couldn’t be employed. Could he? It wouldn’t really explain how he was renting somewhere, seemingly permanently, without some stable form of income. The more he thought about it, the more he felt jealous of his friend. Rigby was unemployed, sure, but he was free to do as he pleased; Mordecai would be stuck inside all day doing countless boring tasks for his overbearing boss.
	“Dude, let’s go for a drink.” Rigby suggested, sounding rather enthusiastic.
	“No; you’re still drunk.” Anders rolled his eyes.
	“So? You guys aren’t. Yet.” He tried to convince them, though it wasn’t working at all.
	“No. You can’t handle your alcohol anyway. Maybe some other time, huh?”
	“Ugh, you guys are boring. I’m bored. This is boring.” He complained.
	“How about you guys come back to my place and we just hang out?” Anders left the offer floating to see if they would take it. Mordecai thought about it for a moment, still partly unsure about his motives. He ran his fingers through his feathery quiff as he considered it. On one hand, he still felt some animosity towards him, finding him unpredictable and at times, unreasonable. On the other, he was starting to see Anders for who he was; though his sense of humour was as he put it himself, dark, he could still be pleasant and responsible.
	“Uhm, I don’t know Anders...” He began, still mulling it over in his head.
	“Dude, he has video games...” Rigby jumped in to the conversation quickly.
	“There are video games back at the house.” He argued his point, but Rigby defended his reasoning.
	“...Including that weird promotional crossover of Strong Johns and Dig Champs.” The raccoon made a smug face, knowing that he had already won the debate.
	“Woah, really? That was meant for Europe only!” Mordecai’s face lit up. “Have you played it?” He sounded like a young kid at Christmas, presented with many unopened and neatly wrapped boxes. Rigby smirked.
	“I...” He drew out his pronunciation of the very first syllable in such a way that sounded smug and self-entitled. “... have the current high-score! Hmm-hmm-hmm!” He knew that he had thrown down the gauntlet.
	“Not for long!” Mordecai’s face set in to a determined expression as he slammed both hands down on the table. He leaned forward to stare Rigby down. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
	“You’re on! Don’t Morde-cry when I show Anders what a loser you are!” Rigby stood his ground, leaning across the table defiantly. The badger, first to step away from the table, laughed out loud.
	“Rigby’s a pretty mean player; I don’t know if you can handle him!” He jibed, trying to stir up their competitive nature. From previous experience with them both, he knew it wouldn’t take much to tip them in to a full-on melee.
	“Yeah, Mordecai! You heard him.” Rigby reached up and pinched Mordecai’s cheeks, as an embarrassing relative might do to a young child. “Better quit while I’m ahead.” He spoke as an enthusiastic pet owner; a cutesy tone of voice that stung the jay’s ego as much as Rigby’s pinching stung his face.
	“Quit it!” He slapped his hands away with a strong back-hand swipe. He frowned sternly, prodding the raccoon in the chest with every word. “You’re. Going. Down.” His third and final poke pushed Rigby with enough force that he tumbled backwards off of the bench he was kneeling on. He landed in the dirt with a dull thud. Anders could barely contain his raucous guffawing.
	“Literally!” He yelled as he cackled. Mordecai joined in, finding his timing to be perfect. Rigby picked himself up and dusted himself off.
	“Shut up!” He barked, walking around the table. He stood by Mordecai’s side and tried punching him in the gut; his weak right hook slowing against the jay’s feathers with a dull ‘piff’. Mordecai chuckled and pushed the raccoon away, firmly shoving his forehead with his broad palm.
	“C’mon, let’s go.” Anders stood and wandered around to stand over Rigby. He grabbed his arms, bunching his wrists together in one hand and dragging him along in the dirt, making way for the main gate.
	“Stop! Stop it! Stop!” Rigby yelled, kicking and squirming as he bumped over the pointy gravel.
	“Dude, you are so weak!” Mordecai teased as he stood, retrieving his crutches and hopping along behind them to catch up. Rigby whined pitifully, still twisting and struggling to release his hands as he scraped along the path towards the main street.

The key turned in the lock, opening the door on its creaking hinges. “Ugh, gotta oil this.” Anders complained, withdrawing the key from the lock. He tossed the tiny bunch of keys, held on a key-ring, on to the floor atop a pile of assorted objects. Mordecai recoiled slightly at the state of the apartment, finding it in an even worse state than, what was now, his room back at the house. He thought not to mention it, wanting to stay on Anders’ good side.
	In the middle of the room was a beaten-looking, brown leather sofa, complete with blankets and a pillow in a rough bundle at one end; obviously Rigby’s temporary lair. His trampoline stood on-end, leaning against the wall in a corner of the room, next to a tiny, ancient-looking TV on an upturned plastic crate. A variety of objects; old and new, junk and valuables, intact and broken littered the apartment. There were a few clear pathways through the sea of miscellany leading to the essentials; bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. A games console sat in its own clearing in the overgrown forest of old socks and food cartons, two controllers lying around haphazardly on the floor. Strong Johns VS Dig Champs was visible in the cartridge slot atop the black plastic casing.
	“Nice place.” Mordecai timidly complimented, though he knew it was a lie.
	“Thanks! It’s not much, but it’s home.” Anders wandered in to the kitchen, letting the two of them get comfortable. “Take a seat!” He yelled from the tiny room, rummaging through the cupboards. “You guys want something?” He asked, proceeding to relocate his search the fridge.
	“Uh, I’m good thanks.” Mordecai shyly parked himself on the sofa which squeaked in protest.
	“Got any snacks?” Rigby called. There was a moment filled with more rummaging noises, before Anders called back.
	“Got a few bars of chocolate... microwave popcorn... and some cheese-curls.”
	“All of that.” Rigby practically demanded, as though manners meant nothing.
	“A nutritious meal.” Anders joked as he wandered back in to the living room. He threw the armful of junk food at the raccoon, who yelped in surprise as the corner of a chocolate bar caught his cheek.
	“Dude, watch it!”
	“You watch it!” Anders argued, reminding Mordecai partly of himself.
	“Man, what gives?” Rigby complained as he picked up the neatly folded packet of microwave popcorn. “This popcorn ain’t popped.” He threw the brown paper packet at Anders, who caught it almost effortlessly and threw it straight back. The dense paper slab slapped him across the cheek.
	“The microwave is broken, remember?” He motioned at Rigby, as if it was too obvious.
	“Oh... Oh yeah.” He looked away, seeming embarrassed, but a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth was more than enough for Mordecai to figure out that Rigby had something to do with it.
	“No thanks to you. Oh well, it was an old piece of junk anyway.” Anders slumped down at the end of the sofa, leaving Rigby somewhat uncomfortably sandwiched between them. Mordecai wondered if it was a deliberate attempt to get back at the raccoon for destroying the appliance. The raccoon grumbled, wriggling his way out from between his friends.
	“Dude, not cool!” He jumped up from the sofa, letting the packet of corn kernels drop to the floor, before he carefully made his way across the living room to switch on the television.
	“Oh, sorry. Did you not have enough room?” Anders’ sarcasm made Rigby’s brow furrow with slight frustration.
	“Grr! Shut it!” He growled, scooping up the two controllers in both arms and stabbing at the power button of the games console with one foot as he wandered back to the sofa.
	“Calm down, dude.” Mordecai said with a throaty chuckle, finding Rigby’s annoyance to be as enjoyable as ever when it stemmed from a trivial situation.
	“No you calm down!” He yelled, throwing one of the controllers at his friend, his competitive nature starting to show. “Just you wait til I kick your butt at this game. Then we’ll see who needs to ‘calm down’.”
	“Okay dude.” Mordecai shrugged off his trash-talk, rolling his eyes. He took the controller in his hands, tracing the cable back to the port. With a smug grin he selected his character. “Gotta love the shovel.” He watched with amusement as the penny dropped.
	“Aw man! What? I thought you were player two!” Rigby looked to the TV, then back to Mordecai, then to Anders. The badger shrugged and grinned with as much smugness as his feathered acquaintance.
	“Hurry up and pick someone, dude! I wanna play.” Mordecai shifted towards the arm of the couch to give Rigby enough room. He begrudgingly accepted his position as player two, hopping back on to the patched-up, scuffed leather seat.
	“You’ll never beat me.” He grumbled, nudging the selection cursor over to the digger with the pickaxe.
	“Dude, I beat you at video games all the time.” Mordecai responded, not finding him threatening or challenging in the slightest.
	“You’ll see! I don’t need that sucky shovel. You’re going down, Mordecai!” Rigby barked, hitting START. The game commenced with a heavily digitised countdown.
	“THREE. TWO. ONE. FIGHT.” The TV buzzed, prompting the two armchair athletes to start attacking their controllers. Rigby vigorously mashed the buttons with white-knuckled ferocity, while Mordecai calmly tapped at the keys until he had a grasp on the controls; expertly manoeuvring his character away from the wildly flailing pickaxe.
	“Dude, quit dodging me!” Rigby yelled, getting far more in to the game than perhaps he should have.
	“Why don’t you just learn to hit me?” Mordecai teased, momentarily removing one hand from his controller and shoving Rigby over to one side. The raccoon growled angrily as he quickly righted himself, leaning forward and mashing the buttons even harder.
	“You’re never going to-“
	“PLAYER 1 WINS” The TV honked, obnoxiously primary-coloured letters flashing on the screen.
	“Beat me?” Mordecai finished Rigby’s sentence for him. Rigby shouted in frustration, slamming his controller down on the couch cushion.
	“Grr! NO FAIR! You got the guy with the shovel again!” He complained, making Anders stifle a laugh. He felt an almost uncontrollable urge to make the situation worse, but he thought to hold fire and see how far Rigby would dig by himself.
	“Dude, just face it; I’m always better than you at video games and I always will be.” Mordecai proclaimed with an air of self-importance, raising his chin proudly.
	“No! It’s just cuz you got the shovel guy! Gimme the controller!” Rigby commanded, reaching across to try and grab it.
	“No dude! It’s just a game!” Mordecai held the controller out of his reach, holding him back with his other hand.
	“Mordecai! Give me the controller!”
	“No! It doesn’t make a difference! You just suck at games!” Mordecai couldn’t help but be upfront about it. He knew Rigby wouldn’t take it well, but he wasn’t above hurting his feelings when he acted up.
	“No, you suck at games!” Rigby retorted, unable to find anything to respond with.
	“Stop whining and prove it, then!” Mordecai picked up Rigby’s controller by its cable and dropped the light plastic brick in to his lap.
	“I’ll show you!” Rigby started the next round, preparing for Mordecai’s attacks this time. He composed himself, seemingly as an expert, waiting for just the right moment. Mordecai moved in with a well-timed attack, making Rigby immediately revert to his old ways of practically destroying the controller.


No more than five minutes had passed before they reached their tenth consecutive round. Rigby was still aggressively hammering his thumbs in to the cheap plastic, hoping that it would eventually work. Mordecai remained his usual calm self, in the Zen state of competitive gaming. Rigby tried as hard as he could, finally learning how to avoid one of Mordecai’s most basic moves. When he finally felt that he had the upper hand, Mordecai managed to execute a special combo attack that instantly floored his friend’s character.
	“And... done.” Mordecai declared, holding out the controller in front of him and releasing it like an MC dropping the mic after winning a rap-battle.
	“K.O.! PLAYER 1 WINS. AGAIN.” Rigby knew that once the game itself had decided to mock him in its lo-fi robot voice, it was already far beyond Game Over.
	“Oooooh!” Mordecai chanted, whirling his hands around above his head in celebration. Rigby jumped down and stormed over to the console, pulling the plug straight from the outlet. Anders stood up.
	“Hold on a moment! What do you think you’re doing?” Anders frowned, his menacing appearance striking momentary fright in to Rigby as he turned to witness it.
	“I... Uh... Just...” Rigby stammered.
	“I’d thank you to treat my stuff with some more respect!” The badger seemed considerably more offended than he had imagined.
	“Yeah dude, what the heck?” Mordecai was also frowning, arms folded sternly. “That’s not ours, man.”
	“I’m sorry...” Rigby tried to seem sincere, but his anger towards Mordecai was far too prominent in his mind.
	“It’s just a game, Rigby.” Mordecai continued. It was a phrase that he recalled throwing around a lot over the years.
	“If you can’t treat my stuff with respect, why should I treat yours any differently?” Anders posed the question, wondering if Rigby had the answer.
	“I’m sorry, man...” He whined, hoping a pitiful tone of voice would fend him off. Anders calmed down a moment; a split second where Rigby was treading the right path. “...I just thought that cause this place was such a mess, you didn’t really care about it.” He finished his sentence with a shrug, making a monumental error in judgement.
	“What?!” Anders growled, bearing his teeth and lunging at him. Mordecai yelled for him to stop, but was unable to stand and hold him back physically. Anders listened, however, catching himself before he wrapped his fingers around the raccoon’s neck.
	“C’mon man, he’s really sorry!” Mordecai didn’t want to be part of yet another fight. Though he found it silly that Rigby got upset so quickly while playing video games, he also thought Anders was being extremely hot-headed in regards to his personal belongings. “He’s just really stupid.”
	“Hey!” Rigby threw his arms in to the air in protest, but Mordecai held up a palm to silence him.
	“Seriously Anders, give him another chance. He won’t do it again, I promise.” He just wanted the evening to go smoothly, taking up his role as peacekeeper between two volatile characters. Anders didn’t reply, thinking about what to say. He looked at Mordecai, receiving a pleading stare in return, before turning his attention to Rigby, who was shielding his face with both arms. He sighed and relaxed, turning back towards his place on the sofa and dropping in to it heavily. His hand reached for the foil packet of cheese curls that lay on the floor, lifting the rustling bag in to his lap.
	“I’m really sorry man, I shoulda been more careful I guess.” Rigby’s attempts at sincerity were somewhat flawed, but Anders ignored him. Again, he said nothing. He pried the bag open, rummaging through it to procure a fistful of the salty orange snacks before stuffing them in to his mouth. His guests watched awkwardly as he munched on the junk food, handful after handful.
	“Uh... Are you okay, dude?” Mordecai asked, worried by his sudden change of heart. He didn’t like it when people fell silent; especially potential psychopaths.
	“Yeah man, something up?” Rigby added, wanting to sound concerned. Silence replied yet again, reigning over the room except for the dull crunching sound of the corn-puffs against his teeth.

Once their host had stomached almost half of the share-size bag, he stopped, dropping it on to the floor carelessly and letting the contents spill out on to the carpet. He stared at his knees for a little while, a neutral expression on his face. Mordecai and Rigby watched with baited breath, each of them planning their own escape should the situation turn ugly.
	“Oh damnit!” His delayed reaction made them both jump. He stood, sweeping the bac off the floor and carrying it in to the kitchen. “How does that always happen?” He was apparently talking to himself. Rigby looked to Mordecai for a prompt, but his friend just shrugged. “No wonder this place looks like crap.” Mordecai craned his neck to get a look in to the kitchen, spotting the badger feverishly searching for a brush with which to get the bright orange dust out of the carpet pile.
	“Hey, dude...” He whispered to Rigby. “... This is really weird.”
	“Uh huh. Why’s he so pissed about it? It’s not like this place is clean anyway.” Rigby looked around at the piles of assorted trinkets strewn across the floor.
	“I don’t know, dude.” Mordecai took another peek. “Don’t say anything.” He warned the raccoon as Anders started to make his way out of the tiny kitchen and back in to his living room.
	“What, why?”
	“Because you’ll make it worse.” Mordecai hissed, hoping he would keep his mouth shut. Rigby grumbled, but he seemed to agree.

Anders knelt down in front of the couch and started the somewhat futile job of removing the powdery orange crumbs from the carpet. “Every time.” He complained to himself, his language then suddenly shifting to German. His guests stared on in confusion, both trying to translate his angered rambling in their heads, to no avail. They watched in silence as he scrubbed the carpet with frustration, doing nothing but spreading the increasingly finer crumbs through the pile. Once he had retrieved as much of the orange dust as he could, Anders yelled in frustration, throwing the brush across the room and over Rigby’s head. It sailed past the TV and knocked over a cluster of items, smashing something unseen as it fell from the table it was perched on. Panting with anger, he sat back, bringing his legs around in front of him. With a sigh, he leaned back against the sofa, sat on the floor. Mordecai and Rigby stared, not knowing what to do at all. “Forget it.” Anders murmured. They were silent for a while, contemplating what to do in such a tense and unpredictable moment. Mordecai managed to gather the courage to speak first, leaning forward to try and make eye contact from the side.
	“Anders?” He tentatively began, sounding unsure.
	“What?” The badger replied gruffly, running his hands up from his forehead, bunching up the greasy black and red bangs between his fingers.
	“What’s up, dude?” He asked, hoping they could help.
	“Nothing.” His reply was an obvious defence. Mordecai shuffled a little closer across the couch cushions, Settling a few feet away.
	“You sure?” He hoped that he would not have to beg for a reply.
	“Yes. I’m fine.” His anger laced every word. “So let’s do something else.”
	“Dude, you’re not fine.” Rigby interrupted. Mordecai shot him a panicked glance.
	“What did you say?” Anders leaned in a way that suggested he was about to stand.
	“Nothing?” Rigby shrank back, finding him even more intimidating than when they had first met.
	“I hope not.” He barked, sitting back again. The tension was killing them both as they watched Anders cautiously. He glared at them both, as if daring them to respond. When he finally broke eye contact, looking back to his knees, Mordecai considered a suitable reply. He saw his frustration with the state of his apartment, but the mess that he lived in was obviously far too overwhelming. His futile attempt at sorting the cheese curl spillage was testament to his predicament.
	“Uhm, Anders?” He tested the water again. With a sigh, Anders replied.
	“Yes?” Mordecai rubbed the back of his head and looked around the room for a moment.
	“Well... You seem upset… about…”
	“About?” He interrupted, frowning again.
	“About your apartment.” Mordecai took another breath before posing his question. Anders raised an eyebrow, waiting for the jay’s next move. “Well, eheh…” He hesitated, hoping that these wouldn’t be his last words. “…Well, we could… Ya know… Help you clean it up… maybe?” He ignored Rigby’s horrified grimace.
	“Dude!” Rigby hissed, not wanting to tidy up anything in the slightest. Mordecai silenced him with a finger held up to his beak and a stern stare. Rigby folded his arms and pouted childishly. Anders looked away and sighed again, far less upset than Mordecai had predicted. They waited for his reply.
	“It… is a bit of a dump in here.” The badger stated, scratching his chin as he thought about Mordecai’s offer.
	“Dude, you don’t care about stuff like that, right?” Rigby wondered why he was even considering fixing up his own living room.
	“Rigby.” Mordecai warned, letting Anders speak.
	“You’d help me get this place tidied up?” Anders asked, hoping they were being serious.
	“Yeah dude.” Mordecai answered with a nervous chuckle. He was relieved that Anders was on the verge of accepting his offer. He waited hopefully.
	“Okay. Okay, yeah. Let’s get this place fixed up.” Anders picked himself up and dusted himself down, heading in to the kitchen to search for any cleaning materials he might have. “I think I’ve got some garbage bags in here, maybe.” He smiled, his face softening so much that the contrast was almost scary. Mordecai looked back to Rigby and took a deep breath, sighing with relief.
	“Mordecai... Why’d you do that?” Rigby put his hands on his hips and scowled. “Now we gotta work.”
	“He’s your friend, right?” Mordecai asked. “It’s what friends do.”
	“Yeah, but… You volunteered me!” He complained.
	“Stop whining. Go get that brush he threw.” Mordecai demanded. “We’re gonna help him.”
	“Hm!” Rigby stomped over to the small table next to the TV set and reached underneath it. “Ow!” He yelped as a sharp piece of glass nicked his finger. “Stupid glass!”
	“Dude, stop complaining, seriously!” Mordecai picked up his crutches and rocked forwards, making an effort to stand.
	“Wait! Mordecai. Come look at this.” Rigby seemed suddenly excited.
	“What, Rigby? Did you find a shiny bottle cap or something?” Mordecai said sarcastically.
	“No, man. It’s a photo.” He picked up the simple wooden picture frame, inspecting the photo underneath the shattered glass.
	“So? People have photos in frames.” Mordecai limped towards Rigby, looking over his shoulder at what he held in his hands. It appeared to be a family photo; mother, father, son and daughter. They all had black-striped white faces and dark hair.
	“Who do you think they are?” Rigby asked, looking up at Mordecai.
	“It’s one of his family photos, you idiot.” He leaned forward, steadying himself on his crutches and taking a closer look. He noticed Rigby’s finger, bleeding slightly. “Dude, you cut yourself.” He casually mentioned.
	“Oh…Yeah, I did.” Rigby looked back towards the tiny pin-prick at the tip of his finger. A droplet of scarlet blood had formed, slowly growing until it formed a drop that had enough weight to fall away. It landed on the spider-web cracked glass, splashing across the face of the young boy in the picture. He immediately seemed familiar.