For You

Benson wanted to scream. Those idiots were mad at him? After everything he's done for them, all the second chances he's given them? They had the gull to push him out of the cart about a mile away from the park, and just drive off without him?

Gritting his teeth, Benson began stomping back to the house. "Ungrateful, lazy, idiotic..." As Benson walked, his footsteps softened, and eventually, all the anger was pushed out, leaving exhaustion and maybe a bit of lonliness behind.

After about an hour, nearly sunset, Benson had made it back to the house. He slowly climbed the stairs, and sat down on the couch, putting his glass head back on the old yet still soft fabric.

"Oh, Hello Benson!" Pops said cheerfully, "Care to join our game of cards?"

"Not now Pops," said Benson. He usually didn't mind playing a game with Pops, but right now, he just wasn't in the mood.

"Where's Mordecai and Rigby," Skips, who was also playing cards, asked.

"How should I know?" Benson snapped, "They stole the cart and took off! Can you believe it?"

"After what you pulled, I believe it," replied Skips.

Benson couldn't believe it. "What, you're still on their side!"

"You should've at least given them a chance," said Skips, trying to reason with his boss.

"Oh yes," added Pops, "It seems the honorable thing to do would be to appologize." Pops then looked back at his cards, and giggled. "Oh look, this one is you!" He held up the card, which was a Joker, only it had Benson on it.

The gumball machine didn't even questioned how it got there, he just simply sighed. "Maybe you're right," he stated reluctantly. He did throw away the game after he promised not to. Just because the game brought up bad memories for him, that didn't mean others couldn't play it. "Fine, I'll appologize."

Skips then took out his walkie talkie, and threw it to Benson. Catching it without much trouble, Benson pressed down on the button and spoke. "Mordecai, Rigby, are you there? Pick up." He waited a few seconds. Silence. "They won't answer!"

"Here, let me try," said Skips, taking the walkie talkie back. "Hello, Mordecai and Rigby, are ya there?"

"Hey Skips," Benson heard Rigby answer.

"Tell them I want to talk to them, tell them!" said Benson. But Skips knew it would probably be a good idea to get information out of the two employees first, and that he would be the best to get the info.

"Where are you guys?" Skips asked, skipping away from Benson. The gumball machine glared, but stayed silent. "Hmh. Hmh. Hmh. Alright." Getting off the walkie talkie, Skips turned back to Benson and Pops.

"So, where are they?" Benson asked.

"You aren't gonna like it," stated Skips.

"What? Did they get arrested?" Benson asked.

"No, they're in a Stick Hockey tournament, across town. It's just starting," Skips answered.

Benson's eyes widened. They wouldn't, they couldn't! "No, tell them to come back to the house!" Benson ordered.

"Look Benson, if they want to compete in the tournament, it's no big deal," said Skips.

"No! You don't understand!" Benson shouted. While the yeti was shocked, Benson snatched the talkie back, and yelled into it. "Mordecai! Rigby! Leave the tournament and come back to the house! Please, listen to me!"

"Sorry Benson, I can't hear you over how much fun we're having playing stick hockey!" answered Mordecai.

"Why don't you go chew on your own gumballs, Benson?" Rigby asked. He faintly heard the raccoon tell Mordecai to just leave the walkie talkie on the bench, and then all Benson could hear was silence.

"Mordecai! Rigby! Answer me!" Benson screamed. But still, no answer. "Dammit!" He then threw the walkie talkie on the ground, smashing it into pieces.

"Benson, please," Pops said, forgetting about his cards and placing a soft hand on the gumball machine's shaking body, "You're frightening me, please calm down."

"Benson, what's going on?" Skips asked. Benson looked at Skips, then at Pops. He sighed, and managed to calm himself down.

"I had that stick hockey table, because I used to be a master at it," Benson started to say, "They would call me the 'Death Dragon', because my wrists were quick or something like that. It doesn't matter. But everyday, I would go to the arcade, and play random people who thought they could beat me. But I was unstoppable.

"The game was taking over my life. I would play it whenever I wasn't working or practicing my drums. One day, I met another gumball machine who was a couple years younger than me." Benson smiled a little at the memory. "He said he wanted to be my apprentice at the game, he wanted me to teach him everything. The kid was so polite and shy, I couldn't just turn him away. Months went by, and we became close friends. Dave was a fast learner, and eventually became a great stick hockey player."

Benson frowned. "But, one day, we were just walking down the street, and Dave sees this ad. For a Stick Hockey Championship, for serious players only. Dave told me I should enter, and I agreed. But only if he entered too. 'It'll be fun,' I said, 'You'll make it all the way to the finals. You may even become the champ.' Dave was humble about his skills, but I knew he wanted to compete and really show me what he had learned. If only I had known..."

The gumball machine began shaking again, bitter memories filling his head. "Benson?" Benson looked up at Pops. "What happened to Dave?" he asked innocently.

"There was an accident," Benson stated, turning his head towards the floor, "at the tournament. He...He..." Benson shut his eyes tightly, trying to keep the tears from coming. "It was my fault."

"Whatever happened, you shouldn't blame yourself," said Skips, sounding about as comforting as he could get, "It was just stick hockey, you would've never guessed."

"But now I know," said Benson, sounding determined, "and if Chong is still the champion, which I'm willing to bet a year's worth of pay he is, then the same thing is going to happen to Mordecai and Rigby. Unless, I can stop it."

Gently taking Pops' hand off him, Benson turned and walked towards the front door. "You know you won't get outta there without a fight, you'll have to face him," said Skips.

"I know," said Benson. It didn't matter. Even if Mordecai and Rigby were jerks, he wasn't going to let two more people get hurt because of him and that damn game.

"Benson," said Pops said as he grabbed Benson's arm. Benson looked up at the glassy eyed lolliman. "Do promise you'll be careful."

"I promise," replied Benson. He then looked across the room at Skips. The stoick yeti didn't say anything, but he gave Benson a nod of his head, as if to say, "Good luck". Pops released his grip, and after hesitating just a moment, Benson walked out the front door, and ran towards his car.

()()()()()()()()

He recognized the grey, graffiti colored walls immediantly, even in the dark of night. Parking his car next to the park golf cart, Benson took a deep breath, and walked towards the door.

He could hear the yelling through the door. He wasn't a hundred percent sure, but Benson was pretty sure the crowd was chanting "Chong! Chong! Chong!" Not for long they won't, Benson thought.

"Hey, no one is allow..." the man started to say, but then his eyes widened. "D-D-The Death Dragon?"

"Open the door," Benson said, calm but strong, "Now." The man quickly opened the door. As Benson walked down the dark hallway, he could hear the crowd getting louder.

"I don't want him to chop off our heads!" That was Rigby! Benson quickened his pace, until he reached the gymnasium where the tournament was being held. He saw Chong, looking no different than he did ten years ago, standing by the stick hockey table, and laughing. In his hands, were the necks of Mordecai and Rigby, who looked badly hurt. Benson could feel his anger rising.

Chong laughed. "Who's going to finish your game now?"

"I'll finish it!" Benson shouted. Stepping out of the shadows and into the lights, Benson glared at his opponent.

Chong gasped. "Death Dragon. I haven't seen you in ten years." He smirked. "Do you still remembered what happened, or do I need to remind you."

Triggered by Chong's statement, memories of that night flashed before Benson's eyes. It was like he was watching an old, 80's movie, but unfortunately, it was real.

It had been the semi-finals. Benson and Dave were ready, although Dave was a little less confident. But after recieving a little bit of encoragement, the ever polite Dave thanked his 'master', and both gumball machines stepped up to face their opponents. Benson had some long haired twenty year old as his opponent. Dave had Chong.

Benson won his match quickly. When the time buzzer went off, Benson, who had been ten points ahead, raised his arms in victory and cheered. He looked over at Dave's game. Dave was four points ahead of Chong. Benson smiled at the fact that both he and his friend would be in the finals, and he continued taking in the crowd's praise.

And that's when it happened.

The crowd gasped. Benson turned around, and saw two of the poles from the stick hockey table, crossed across his neck like a pair of shears. He saw Chong's face, his merciless, victorious face. His arms came together, and so did the poles. Benson froze, and time seemed to slow down as he watched his friend's head fly up into the air.

Only when Dave's head fell next to Benson's feet, did the red gumball machine unfreeze. He could still remember the shock, he could still hear his scream echoing all around him, and at that moment, Benson could feel a hot tear running down his cheek. Knowing now was not the time to cry, Benson wiped away the tear, and glared at his opponent.

"I always knew the Dragon would return to his lair," said Chong. He tossed Mordecai and Rigby to the side.

"I go by Benson now," stated Benson, his expression never faltering.

"Oh Benson!" Chong repeated, feigning scared.

"I'm here to get my friends, and go," Benson said. Yes, he referred to the two as his friends. Even if they did annoy the crap out of him, deep down, Benson still cared about them and didn't want them to get killed.

"Who? These pathetic stick twiddlers?" Chong asked, pointing at the two employees.

"Don't say it like that," said Benson, remembering a very similar conversation he had with the two earlier that day.

Chong obviously didn't like to be corrected. "Get rid of them," he said to two men in black shorts. The two men grabbed Mordecai and Rigby, and began dragging the two screaming friends away.

"No!" Benson shouted.

"What are you going to do about it," Chong smirked.

"I'm going to finish the game, and beat you like I should have ten years ago," Benson replied.

Chong thought about this for a moment, and then turned to the head of the tournament. The head of the tournament seemed interested by the idea, and by the simple push of a button, Benson's name replaced Mordecai and Rigby's on the board.

"Benson no! Don't do it!" Mordecai shouted as he and Rigby tried to run up to him, but were blocked.

"This game is to the death!" Rigby yelled.

"Trust me," Benson said with a small smile. The two looked at him like he was insane, but they didn't say another word. Surprising, Benson didn't feel nervous or scared, he only felt determined.

Chong let his hair out of his braid, while Benson simply stepped up to the game. Chong laughed, pressed the start button and then, almost in slow motion, the miniature hockey puck flew up in the air and landed on the plastic rink.

The game was on.

Despite not playing for years, Benson's skills were still at the top of their game. 'Like riding a bike,' Benson thought, as he quickly turned the nobs and kept his eyes glued to the game. Only a minute and a half had passed, and Benson was already almost tying with Chong. Chong then decided to go for the offensive, but Benson blocked every single attempt.

"I see you've retained some of your skills," commented Chong. But then he smiled. "Too bad the game has changed."

Chong nodded towards the head of the tournament, and with the press of another button, a ring of fire emerged from the floor, and the platform began to rise. The heat caused Benson to start sweating, but he didn't dare take his hands off the game.

Just then, the platform moved, causing Benson to crash into the plastic dome of the game. Chong laughed, and the platform tilted again, this time, the opposite way. His sweaty palms slipped off the nobs, and he slid off the platform.

"Benson!"

Benson grabbed onto the edge of the platform, and looked down. The fire was so hot, he briefly questioned if his feet were melting. But getting his head back in the game, Benson pulled himself back onto the table, and grabbed onto the game. More determined than ever, he began pulling and twisting nobs.

Multiple goals were made, and for a brief moment, Benson was ahead. Time was quickly running out. Frusterated, Chong let out a battle cry and somehow, duplicated himself and the game.

Benson gasped as he found himself surrounded by Chongs, all laughing at him and scoring precious points. As Benson tried to grab one of the game boards, it vanished into thin air. He tried another and another, all vanishing until he was left with only two Chongs and games left.

But which one was it? He looked at the clock. Only fifty five seconds left! Frusterated, Benson screamed and pulled the two games towards each other until they were reunited. Once they were one, Benson got back on the offensive.

He was not, repeat not, going to lose! He was going to win this, for Dave.

The whole world felt like it was shaking, or maybe it was just him, Benson couldn't tell. Cracks in the game started forming. Only ten seconds left. Benson didn't give any mercy.

Yelling at the top of his lungs, Benson made his final moves, just before the game exploded under all the pressure. Both Chong and Benson flew backwards, landing on the hard floor below, just as the timer buzzed.

Benson wasn't sure if he blacked out or not. All he remembered was feeling nothing for a moment, and then having a horrible headache. People all around him were cheering and screaming.

"Benson! Benson, wake up dude!" That was Mordecai's voice.

The gumball machine slowly opened his eyes, and was greeted with Mordecai and Rigby smiling at him. "W-what...?"

"Dude, you did it! You won!" Rigby exclaimed. Benson sat up. Chong was still lying on the ground. The game had been destroyed, but the score counter survived. Benson read the score: He had won 48 to 47.

He almost couldn't believe it. But it was true, he had finished the game, and he had won. Slowly standing up, he looked around at the crowd, and smiled. 'That was for you, Dave.' The gumball machine raised his arms in victory, and the crowd went wild.

()()()(()()()()()()()

The three had returned home, safe and sound, much to Pops and Skips' relief. While Mordecai and Rigby explained the 'awesome and epic' details of the final match, Benson said he would be heading home.

Once he arrived at his apartment building, he couldn't believe what was by his front door. It was the Stick Hockey game. Apparently, one of the legs had been broken off, and now it was just laying by Benson's garbage cans.

He really hated irony sometimes.

The next morning, Benson fixed the leg, put the game in his car, placed it in the house garage, and called Mordecai and Rigby. Needless to say, the two were pleasantly surprised.

"Wow, thanks Benson," said Mordecai, "We..."

Benson stopped the bluejay mid sentence. "Wait, before you say anything, I just want to say I'm sorry for throwing your game away. I shouldn't have gone back on my word."

"That's okay, really," said Mordecai, "It's cool."

Benson placed a hand on the game's plastic dome. "I guess I didn't want to see you guys end up like me," he said, looking into his reflection, "Some dried up old loser who's stuck working at a park because he wasted his life playing stick hockey." While he only played the game for three years, Benson wished he had those three years back. Once he decided to quit stick hockey for good, he didn't have anything to fall back on. If it wasn't for Pops offering him a job at the park, he would've been homeless and bankrupt. There was also the fact that the game cost Benson one of his good friends, but some things were best left unsaid.

"Yeah," said Rigby, "That would really suck." Holding back a glare, Benson looked back up at the two friends and smiled.

"So, what do you say? You wanna play a round?" Benson asked, gesturing towards the game. Mordecai and Rigby looked at each other.

"Ah, no, that's okay," said Mordecai, "We should've trusted you, Benson."

"We're gonna go back to playing video games," added Rigby. The two then shouted a goodbye to Benson, and then ran back into the house.

Benson couldn't believe it. After all that... He sighed. "Why do I even bother?"

"Because you care about them." Benson looked, and saw Pops in the doorway. "Please forgive me for eavesdropping, my good man, but I couldn't help but overhear what you were saying. Just so you know Benson, you aren't someone I would call a dried up old loser."

Benson gave the lolliman a small smile. "Thanks Pops."

Pops smiled back as he walked into the garage. "I'm very proud of you, Benson. And I'm sure Dave is too."

A lump formed in Benson's throat, but he pushed it back and smiled a little more at Pops. In a strange way, Pops sort've reminded him of Dave. Polite, nice, fun loving, they even looked similar.

"Benson," said Pops, stepping up to the machine, "If you're still looking for a worthy opponent, I'd love to give it a go! After all, this game does look like jolly good fun!"

After Dave's death, Benson vowed never to play stick hockey again. Since that vow was already broken, he figured playing a round with Pops wouldn't matter much. In fact, it sounded like a great idea to him.

"Alright," said Benson, "let me show you the basics."