Benson's frustrations had gotten so severe that he was losing track of everything- how long has it been since he last went to work, and when was the last time he opened his blinds to let the sunlight in? All he knew was that after a few painful hours of awkward rinsing, he had managed to clean his insides out.

The gumball machine just couldn't run anymore on his anger; despite only being in his early twenties, he looked and acted like he was ten to fifteen years older. Creaking joints, etched in rings under his eyes…he just felt plain terrible. It was getting more uncomfortable for him to produce his precious gumballs, but he figured that was just part of his pent up emotions and exhausted body. The sugary orbs jostled around in his glass head as he slumped further into his broken in chair, watching mindless sitcoms on the telly.

He was just so exhausted…as every minute ticked by, his vision blurred more and more as the bright tones flashed from the screen. It was all just background noise anyway. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling and grabbed the TV remote. "I hate this show anyway…."

After his meltdown a few days ago, he had been surprised at how…calm and lazy he had become, but that came with a price. Waking up every morning was as bitter as salt pouring into his burning wounds, for the first things he remembered was how angry Pops and the other boys were, and how stupid he himself was for nearly killing himself and for destroying the one haven that he had worked so hard to keep. As his mind kept stewing over the events, he was finding himself becoming more reluctant to do anything that he normally enjoyed; the only thing that was soothing was just…sitting. Sitting and watching tv. But the most soothing thing he could think of doing was a torture. His mind was infected by his previous stubbornness, which in turn slowly ate at his self esteem and confidence until he found himself practically dead inside, like right now.

"I wonder what they are doing right now…" He said softly to himself. "Maybe they are getting along well without me…maybe Mordecai and Rigby are actually working because I am not there to dictate their efficiency…" He closed his eyes and frowned. "Maybe Pops took over my job, and everything is better because I just dragged everyone down because I am such a loser-"

His grieving thoughts were distracted when the sharp ringing of his phone sounded off. Slowly turning his head towards the device, he decided to just let it ring, only moving to turn on the speaker for the voicemail.

"Hey, it's Benson. I am not here right now- leave your name and number and I will get back to you later."

Hearing his own bored, tense voice made butterflies form in his artificial stomach. As the recorded message ended and the boring beep followed, he clutched his armrest in anticipation; was it Maellard calling to scold him for skipping work, or to tell him that he was fired? Could Mordecai and Rigby be making a mocking prank call on him, or was Skips going to deliver bad news about the park due to the manager's absence?

He was surprised to find out that the caller was none of the ones that he was fearing.

"Erm, hello?" The sweet voice of Pops radiated from the speaker as the message started to record. "I am calling for Benson, but nobody is answering me…" Poor, kind little Pops, not knowing that the days of telephone operators forwarding calls was long gone, "Well then, I hate to be a bother, but I was calling to let Benson know that I forgive him for what happened between us earlier…and um…" He seemed to be just as nervous as Benson was at the moment (the gumball machine was now leaning at the very edge of his chair), "I wanted to tell him that everyone at the park misses him dearly…" There was a painful silence on Pops' end, but for some reason Benson was too guilty from the trouble he caused to even pick up the phone. He was convinced that Pops was just going to hang up there, but was surprised that there was a sweet little finale to this surprise message. "And I miss my jolly old friend dearly, and I think about him everyday when I enjoy my candies…" Poor Pops sounded like he was on the verge of crying, and he hung up the phone from that point, as if he was too hurt and shy to keep going. Benson frowned, leaning back in his chair. He closed his eyes, but quickly opened them when they suddenly started to sting. As he reached up to try and rub them better, he was saddened even more to find out that he was crying.

"Oh Pops…I feel so alone without you." He drew his long legs up and curled up into as best of a ball that he could manage. "I could use a lollipop right now…"