For the next hour—or maybe a day; time moved weirdly around the cursed VHS—they were forced to live through parodies of every Season Two trope: a “Prank War” episode that became a literal war with tiny bazookas; a “Weekend at Benson’s” where they had to prop up an unconscious Skips at a high-stakes arm-wrestling tournament; and a musical episode where they couldn’t stop singing about their own incompetence.
Suddenly, a demonic pop-up appeared on screen: “TRY CROSSFIT FOR FREE! YOUR MORTAL SOUL IS THE ONLY PAYMENT.” And then a jackhammering, screaming goat mascot leaped out of the TV and started chasing Rigby around the living room.
“What,” Benson said slowly, “is that smell? Is that… nacho cheese and existential dread?”
Against every shred of common sense (which was approximately a shred and a half), they plugged the ancient VCR from the break room into the main TV. The moment they pushed the tape in, the lights flickered. The air turned cold. And the screen didn’t show the Regular Show intro.
They did it. The VCR whirred backward, the TV screeched, and with a final poof of ozone and stale popcorn, the tape ejected itself—now melted into a sad, black plastic puddle.
Rigby grinned. “It kinda did, though.”
“It is now. You must reorganize Benson’s filing cabinet. Alphabetically. By the second letter of each document’s third word.”
Regular Show Season 2 Complete Pack -
For the next hour—or maybe a day; time moved weirdly around the cursed VHS—they were forced to live through parodies of every Season Two trope: a “Prank War” episode that became a literal war with tiny bazookas; a “Weekend at Benson’s” where they had to prop up an unconscious Skips at a high-stakes arm-wrestling tournament; and a musical episode where they couldn’t stop singing about their own incompetence.
Suddenly, a demonic pop-up appeared on screen: “TRY CROSSFIT FOR FREE! YOUR MORTAL SOUL IS THE ONLY PAYMENT.” And then a jackhammering, screaming goat mascot leaped out of the TV and started chasing Rigby around the living room.
“What,” Benson said slowly, “is that smell? Is that… nacho cheese and existential dread?”
Against every shred of common sense (which was approximately a shred and a half), they plugged the ancient VCR from the break room into the main TV. The moment they pushed the tape in, the lights flickered. The air turned cold. And the screen didn’t show the Regular Show intro.
They did it. The VCR whirred backward, the TV screeched, and with a final poof of ozone and stale popcorn, the tape ejected itself—now melted into a sad, black plastic puddle.
Rigby grinned. “It kinda did, though.”
“It is now. You must reorganize Benson’s filing cabinet. Alphabetically. By the second letter of each document’s third word.”