Twenty Questions

As Pops sat there at the kitchen table, he realized something.

He knew everyone at the park. He knew Mordecai and Rigby's favorite video games and television shows. He knew what bands and food Muscleman and High Five Ghost liked. He even knew a little about Skips' likes and dislikes, and he was the quietest of the bunch. Since Pops considered all his employees his extended family, he wanted to get to know them. And he did. But there was one person he still only knew a little about, and he was sitting right across from Pops, sipping his morning coffee.

Even though Benson and Pops were close friends, the extent of Pops' knowledge was still limited to Benson's employee record. What were the gumball machines' likes? Dislikes? Hobbies? His past? Did he have other friends? Perhaps siblings? Like a child who didn't know a secret everyone else knew, Pops just had to know more about the infamous gumball machine.

"Benson?" Benson glanced up from his coffee cup. "I was wondering, could we perhaps play a game together?"

"A game?" Benson repeated, a little confused, "Um, what game?"

"I was thinking we could play Twenty Questions and Answers," said Pops, "It could be jolly fun, and it would help us get to know each other a little more."

Benson sat down his cup. He never liked answering a bunch of questions, especially when he didn't know what the questions would be about. It could get very uncomfortable, very fast. "Pops, we have work to do," Benson stated.

"But it's only Ten o'Two," Pops said, looking at the clock, "Please Benson? If you want to, I can swear an oath of secrecy. Please?" The lolliland pleaded with the gumball machine with his eyes. Benson sighed.

"Fine," he said, "But only one game, okay? And instead of twenty, how about just fifteen?"

Pops smiled brightly. "Good show! Oh, may I start asking my fifteen questions?"

"Sure," said Benson as he picked up his mug and began to drink again. As Pops began to think, Benson felt kinda silly for the way he acted before. He shouldn't be nervous, this was Pops! The questions shouldn't be too bad...

"What flavor are your gumballs?" Benson nearly choked on his coffee.

"W-What?" Benson sputtered out.

"I'm only asking because I'm just curious," Pops said innocently, "Do they even have a flavor?" To Pops, it was just a simple question, but to Benson, it was the most awkward thing that could be asked.

"Uh, w-well," Benson started to say, his face red with embarrasment instead of anger for once, "I'm n-not really sure myself. Since they're pink, I assume it's strawberry or cherry."

"Oh," said Pops. He then smiled. "Well look at that, we're getting to know each other already." Benson gave a weak smile, and prayed that the next question wouldn't be so awkward.

"When did you start playing the drums?" Benson let out the breath he was holding, and he felt his face start to cool down. "Well, I started when I was about eight. My mom bought me a drumset from a pawn store. I was terrible at it." Benson laughed at the memory. "But she made me practice everyday, and after two weeks, she didn't even have to tell me to practice anymore. It was too much fun, I couldn't last a day without playing."

Pops noticed the smile on Benson's face. 'Perhaps I should ask him to play his drums more often,' Pops thought to himself, 'He looks so happy when he talks about them.'

"Do you have a favorite group of musicians?"

"I guess they're all pretty good," Benson stated, "But I guess Bon Jovi and Journey would be my favorite bands."

"What about the suited men in the yellow submarine?" Pops asked.

"The Beatles? Yeah they're pretty good too, I think I actually have one of their albums," said Benson. He was pretty sure he still had that box of records in his apartment.

"Perhaps we can listen to them..." Was Pops giving up the game? "...As soon as we finish our questions and answers." Damn.

"Okay," said Benson, "Next question?"

"Hmm," Pops said as he thought, "Do you have a favorite Talkie?" Benson gave him a confused look. "The moving picture shows?"

"Oh, movies," said Benson, "I don't really have a favorite movie. As long as it isn't some stupid teen movie or anything like that, any movies good for me."

"Are you a fan of Zombie Talkies?" Pops asked, "I recall you enjoying yourself at the Scary Movie Night last month."

Benson smiled at the memory. He still couldn't believe how lifelike those zombies were. "Yeah, I guess they can be pretty fun."

"Do you have any lady friends?"

"You mean, a girlfriend?" Pops nodded. Benson looked down at the floor. "Do I get one free question, you know, a question I don't have to answer?"

"If that's what makes you the most comfortable," said Pops. Benson gave him a 'thank you' nod. The question itself wasn't too hard to answer, but Benson was just worried that if he did answer it, the answer would lead to other tough questions.

"What about siblings?" Pops asked.

"Nope, I'm an only child," said Benson, "Do you have any siblings, Pops."

"Pardon me, but I think it's still my turn."

"Right, sorry," said Benson.

"It's quite alright," said Pops with a smile, "you can ask again when it's your turn. Alright, let's see... favorite color?

"Red."

"Favorite food?"

"I guess Chinese, that's always pretty good."

"Favorite animal?"

"Cat."

That certainly was an interesting answer. "Why?" Pops asked. Benson shrugged his shoulders.

"I guess just because they're soft, and as long as you feed them and all that other stuff, they'll stay with you. That, and they can keep you warm on a cold night."

"Have you ever had a pet cat, Benson?"

Benson thought back to another memory. "Well, when I was eleven, my mom brought home two siamese kittens. They were cute, but they were always getting into trouble."

Pops giggled. "They remind me of another pair."

"I have a feeling we're thinking of the same pair," Benson stated, "Anyway, not only did they get into trouble, but they had claws. Sharp claws. We wouldn't get them declawed because my mom always said it was only natural for cats to have claws. In the seven years I lived at home with them, I had to get two dozen new blankets. On the bright side, Mom always had plenty of material to practice sewing on."

Pops smiled at the gumball machine. This was great, he was learning so much. Quickly, he counted all the question he had asked in the past five minutes. "Oh my, it seems that I'm at my final question."

"Well, ask away," said Benson, before getting another drink.

Pops thought, and thought, and thought. Finally, he had his question. He looked at Benson, his face serious, a rare case for the naive lolliman. "Benson, why do you always put up walls around you?"

Benson blinked. He stayed silent, and just stared into the remaining brown liquid in his cup. Now he wished he hadn't used his freebie question. "I don't know what you're talking about, Pops."

"You don't share much about yourself," said Pops, "and if it wasn't for this game of ours, I wouldn't know about your favorite color, or your love of Zombie movies, your drums or your cats. Why don't you ever share anything with me, with the rest of us?"

"That was an extra question," Benson stated.

"Then ignore that question and answer my last one." Benson looked up at his elder. His face was stern, wanting Benson to answer the question, but at the same time, it was comforting and caring.

Benson sighed. "I guess it's because, because I don't want to get hurt."

Pops looked at his park manager. If he had another question, Pops would've asked what he meant by that. But it would've been a wasted question, because Benson had continued talking.

"A few times, a bunch of times actually," Benson continued, looking at the floor, "I've opened myself up to people, I've trusted them... but they've always just thrown that back at my face." His so called 'friends', his ex girlfriend, they all made Benson open up to them thinking it was safe, but it wasn't. It was one of the reasons why he was almost always alone. "Sometimes it's better to put walls up."

"Not always." Pops lifted Benson's chin up and looked him. He gave the gumball machine a caring smile, and hugged him. Despite being a little surprised, Benson hugged back.

"Benson, my good man," Pops said in a caring tone, "You can trust me to keep any secrets, and to not pass judgement on you. All I want, is for you to take down your walls, it'll make your world, and mine, a lot bigger."

Benson was surprised by Pops' words. He had never heard him speak this way, but at the same time, it was comforting. And he knew he could trust the lolliman.

"Thanks Pops," said Benson, smiling.

"No problem at all," replied Pops, "Now, I do believe you have fifteen questions to ask me."

Knowing Pops wouldn't let him leave until the game was over, Benson began thinking of some questions.

"Okay, well, what's your favorite flavor of lollipop?"

"Well, that question's a bit personal isn't it?" Benson shrunk a little. He was about to appologize when Pops started giggling. "I knew this little game of ours would get you to open up."

Benson smiled, sat back, and listened to Pops'. Now it was his turn to learn a little more about the naive man from Lolliland, and honestly, he didn't mind at all.