Smoke surrounded the office, almost like it was supposed to be there. Pops cautiously stepped inside, whimpering at the godawful smell of tabacco and alcohol.
Pops jumped suddenly at Benson's pissed off tone. Something seemed off about his voice though. Sort of pitch strained and slurring. Had he been yelling for no reason?
Pops was again, surprised by the suddenness of Benson's harsh snappy phrases.
"Nothing much my good man. I have only come to ask of you where all the towels have gone."
"Blah blah blah your needs! Where's my friends? That's right! I don't have any! No one likes a short tempered, hot-headed, screaming gumball machine! All I do is sit here alone rotting myself from the inside out, drinking my anger and sorrows away like it's nothing!"
Benson was screaming again, but Pops hadn't known it was because of the alcohol. Benson took a drag of his cigarette and swallowed a mouthful of beer. Pops couldn't understand what it was, and if he did, he would have enough common sense to tell him to stop. Pops hadn't realized Benson was slowly trying to kill himself by doing this. Attempting to get cancer, hoping to die in a drunk accident, trying to take overdoses in hopes it would do something. Only thing was, since he was a gumball machine he couldnt die. Benson just wanted the pain to go away.
"Benson, are you ok?"
"Fantastic! Just FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!"
"Benson! Please watch your language."
"Make me!"
Benson harshly swiveled his chair to face the wall and gripe about his problems to the only thing that would listen. Pops looked upset, Benson was never this mean to him. Pops began to get suspicious about what Benson was drinking. Pops was brought out of his thinking by Benson's heavy sobs. Pops dared to walk closer to the desk.
"Down the hall to the right..."
Pops was surprised for the ump-teenth time by Benson. He went from screaming to talking softly. Pops was uneasy being around Benson like this. No, scratch that, he was scared. Benson was never like this, and the sudden change made Pops afraid to be around him. Pops took the action to leave and search for the towels. Benson sobbed louder, hearing that Pops had left. He did the strangest thing ever. Benson smiled lightly, still sobbing, though the sobbing evolved into crazed laughter. Benson shrieked with laughter, holding his throbbing metal gut from it. He clenched his bottle of beer tighter and threw it across the room and into the wall. It formed a small dent and the bottle exploded with beer splattering everywhere. Benson's crazed laughter died down a little. He still laughed, but tears still slid down his face.
"What's wrong with me...?"
Benson dropped to his knees. He just wanted to scream his lungs out. Why did it hurt so much? Benson's face contorted with frustration. Benson swore at the top of his lungs.
"I'm going to get rid of my problems..."
Benson stood and stumbled to his desk. He yanked a secret drawer open and let the wood slam to the ground and crush open to reveal a small pistol.
"...and no one is going to stop me."
Benson had lots of problems he couldn't stand, but only one stood out the most.
"I'm coming for bitch."

Benson hissed angrily. He always hated the way his metallic heart throbbed over the most snobbiest, self-centered, bitch he'd ever known. He hated the way he loved her. He did everything for her. He wrote songs about her, gave her gifts, he devoted half his hard earned money on that bitch! What did she do? Oh, you'll never guess what she did! She ripped up his songs, wasted his money, bitched about how Benson didn't treat her right. As Benson had watched her tear up the song he wrote for her, he felt an ounce of his heart get ripped up and stomped into the dirt beneath the feet of the woman he absolutely worshipped. She was like a god to him. He worshipped the very ground she walked on, now he wouldn't even spit in her direction. He hated the feelings he had toward her. He wanted to be rid of it! There was only one way to rid his feelings for her. To be rid of her. Benson smiled giddily, grabbing a knife from the drawer, and a jar from the cupboards. He laughed maniacally. Rigby stepped into the kitchen to see what the commotion was. He normally wasn't awake at this time, but he was hungry and he heard noise. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Benson. Benson was still laughing and searching the drawers for his car keys. Rigby stood, still as a statue while the scene played before him. Benson startled Rigby by yanking out the drawer and throwing across the floor.
Rigby jumped and shivered at the noise. Benson held up the knife and laughed again. Rigby saw Benson's glazed over eyes catch sight of him and he quickly hid. Benson stomped past his hiding spot.
"Be afraid could be next..."
Rigby shivered at Benson's harsh words. Venom lacing every word. Benson slipped into his car and drove away.

Veronica sighed. She laid back on her bed and let her hair out of her ponytail. Maybe she shouldn't have jogged. She did have stilletos on. Her feet were killing her. She kicked them off, not caring whether or not they busted a hole in the wall or anything. She needed rest. Her eyes slipped closed. The house she had been in was a fancy place with nice things. Expensive, nice things. Veronica loved the way she lived. She had much much more money. That was probably the only thing she thought about now. She didn't really like the guys she was with, but she just wanted the money they owned. Preferably a sick, diseased man who would die a few months after they got together. Veronica smiled. It was good to be her.
Veronica shot up, heart racing. It sounded like something broke. Veronica was afraid. What had that been? What caused it? Afraid, but curious, she steadily made her way downstairs. She picked up a bat along the way.
Veronica suppressed a squeak of shock. She quickly hid behind a wall, sweat beading on her glass dome. In. Out. In. Out. Somehow she had to keep reminding herself how to breathe. In. Out. I-in. Ou-how did it go again? Veronica practically forgot how to breathe. That's when she heard the scariest thing to ever hear in a dark house home alone. Footsteps.
Veronica's heart stopped. She breathed heavily.
In out in out in out dammit why is it so hard to breathe!
Veronica calmed herself down and convinced herself it was just her vivid imagination. The footsteps were heard once more. Veronica's heart jumped to her throat. Damn, it wasn't her imagination.
"Come out, come out sweetheart. Don't be afraid."
Veronica believed it to be the voice of her boyfriend. She sighed a heavy sigh of relief and stepped into the open. Big mistake. She gasped in horror. There, standing in the hall with a knife and a jar, was none other than Benson. Veronica gasped.
"Benson, what are you doing here?"
Benson held a ghastly smile, only made scarier by the dim lighting.
"who do you think you are,"
Veronica was taken aback by the question.
"runnin 'round leaving scars,"
Now Veronica was confused.
"collecting your jar of hearts,"
Now Veronica remembered. It was a song she remembered, "Jar of Hearts". She always enjoyed that song. It was cute. Even through the memories of the countless times she listened and even sang it, the voice of Benson cutting into her memories. He was singing it, but in a strangely calm voice. When he said "jar of hearts" he said it; emphasizing it. Veronica felt the stab of Benson's icy tone. Why was it so cold? Maybe it was the air conditioner that had been turned on? Maybe someone slipped ice into her clothes. No, it was Benson. He made her blood run cold. The sheer terror of seeing her ex-boyfriend in her hallway with a knife made her terrified. She gulped and took a step back. Benson took one forward.
"And who do you think you are,"
Veronica gulped and bumped into a wall. She looked frantically left and right, desperately trying to find an escape. There was none.
"Runnin 'round leaving scars,"
Veronica's fear was undescribeable. She was so afraid it would be impossible to explain it. Benson stepped so close, close enough his nose nearly touched Veronica's. The knife hovered between them, aimed directly at Veronica's chest. Tears slipped from Veronica's eyes.
"Collecting your jar of-HEARTS!"
With the word hearts, he thrust the knife into Veronica's chest. Veronica tried to scream, but found herself unable to. All she did was sob and try to keep breathing. Blood ran down her shirt. Benson slowly cut into her chest, making a hole, large enough for his hand. Benson grinned wickedly. Veronica was slumping to the ground, slowly numbing, feeling her life fade. Benson rammed his hand into her chest. More tears flowed from Veronica. Benson clenched his fist and yanked his hand back out, letting her blood shower him. Benson held a lump of flesh in his hand and showed it to Veronica. Veronica's eyes widened, not at the fact of what Benson held in his hand, but she smelled alcohol. She smelled alcohol on Benson's breath. Veronica realized Benson was drunk. The real Benson wouldn't have the balls to do this. Benson would have never come if he were sober. Then again, Benson never would have tasted alcohol if Veronica stayed with him. He was the happiest guy ever when he was with her. He never wanted a drop of alcohol when he was with her. Veronica wouldn't be here, on the ground, bleeding out, if she stayed with him. Veronica sobbed, she felt nothing but pain. Benson laughed at her pain. Benson took the flesh and placed it in the jar. Benson set the jar down on the ground, kneeling in her blood. Veronica looked through her blurry vision to see Benson smiling evilly. Benson waved goodbye to her.
"Who did you think you were,"
Veronica's eyes glazed over. The tears stopped. The noise stopped. Veronica's heart beat a few more times, splurging blood. Benson ran a few fingers through her blood. He ran his fingers over the jar, but in patterns, forming letters. Benson smiled, finishing his dirty work. Benson set the jar beside Veronica's still corpse. Benson left the knife beside the jar. Before Benson left, he spit on Veronica.
Later, Veronica's boyfriend came home. He discovered the place was a wreck. He roamed the halls, until one caught his attention. He slipped in a puddle. He was about to complain about Veronica spilling something, but he saw her. He saw her slumped against the wall, eyes half open, blood staining her clothes and a hole in her chest. Beside Veronica was a jar. The boyfriend looked inside the jar and screamed. The jar had been labeled in bloody lettering. It spelled VERONICA.
but it wasn't the blood that scared him. It was the flesh inside the jar.
Inside the jar was Veronica's heart.

Benson stepped into the park house. He wasn't thinking straight. On the way home, he sobered up a little, wondering vaguely why he had been covered in blood. He closed the door behind him, feeling a hangover begin. He walked to the stairs, hoping no one would see him like this.
Benson stiffened. Mordecai's voice. Crap! Mordecai rested a hand on Benson's shoulder. Benson suddenly felt the rush of memories come back. He did it. He killed Veronica.
"Benson, what are you covered in?"
Benson felt the tears sting at his eyes.
"Is can't be..."
Benson sobbed. He hoped Mordecai wouldn't hear him. Mordecai realized what Benson had all over him. Benson suddenly exploded in tears. He turned around and hugged Mordecai close to him. Mordecai was shocked.
"What have I done?"
Mordecai hugged Benson tightly, he was a little bothered since Benson was getting blood all over his feathers, but he had to comfort Benson. He was worried about him. Benson sobbed louder.
"What's wrong with me!"
"What did you do?"
Benson tried to muffle his sobs by burying his face into Mordecai's chest.
"I kimph ferkonica."
"I kimph ferkonica!"
Mordecai gave Benson a strange look. Benson didn't see it, because after he exploded, he buried his face back into Mordecai's chest. Mordecai's eyes widened. Benson, his boss, killed someone. No, he would never do that. Benson was all bark and no bite. Someone or something made Benson do it. HFG isn't mean enough to posses anyone. Pops, no. Skips, maybe. Muscle Man? Psh, yeah right. Rigby? Nah. No one did it. Maybe it was something then. Mordecai had a hard time figuring it out. He'd figure it out later. Benson looked into Mordecai's eyes.
"Don't tell, please..."
Mordecai was at a loss for words. He was going to be entrusted with the biggest secret of his life. He had to keep a murder a secret? Damn! Benson was glad it was Mordecai. He was almost the least likely to tell. His mouth would stay sealed. Besides, Mordecai was the least likely to blackmail Benson with this secret.
"Promise me, Mordecai...swear on your life you won't tell?"
Mordecai gulped. Was he able to be trusted? Would he keep this secret? Would he slip up? So many 'IFs' floated in his mind. Mordecai opened his beak to answer.
"I promise."
What had he just done?