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Rigby: Dude! Check it out, man! They're here!
Mordecai: What's here?
Rigby: Our fake band t-Shirts that we ordered from that site last night.
Rigby: Last night, I asked you if you wanted to be in a band and you said...
(A flashback of the previous night shows Mordecai and Rigby pounding sodas at the computer)
Mordecai: Yes, I wanna be in a band with you. Alright, but we gotta have a cool band name. What do you think of "Cool Dudes"?
Rigby: "Face Punch."
Mordecai: "Rad 'N' Subtract."
Rigby: "Helicopter Crash."
Mordecai: What about "Mustache Cash Stash"?
Rigby: That's it! That's it!
Mordecai: Order the shirts! Order the shirts!
(The flashback ends)
Mordecai: Oh yeah, T-Shirts.
Rigby: Check it out. Bam! (Pulls out a "Mordecai and the Rigbys" t-shirt)
Mordecai: Mordecai and the Rigbys? What happened to Mustache Cash Stash?
Rigby: I changed it. Awesome, right? (Throws a t-shirt at Mordecai)
Mordecai: But that's just our names. We aren't really going to wear these around, are we?
(Rigby puts on the shirt. Mordecai looks at him disapprovingly)
Margaret: Woah, rad shirts! What are those for?
Rigby: They're for our band.
Margaret: You guys are in a band? "Mordecai and the Rigbys"? That's so cool.
Mordecai: No, no, no, we're not in a band, heh...
Margaret: (skeptically) So, what, it's some sort of fake band?
Mordecai: No, it's a real band, but just... not a big deal, you know?
Margaret: (gasps) Your band should play the open mic tomorrow night. (Hands Mordecai and Rigby a flyer)
Mordecai: Yeah, for sure, uh... totally.
Margaret: Awesome. I can't wait to see you guys play. Well, I guess I'll see you then.
Mordecai: Yeah... see you then... then. (Faceplants on the table)
Rigby: What was that, man?
Mordecai: I don't know! I just didn't want her to think we had a stupid fake band!
Rigby: But now we gotta play that open mic tomorrow!
Mordecai: OK, OK, we can totally do this. We just gotta learn one song by tomorrow night.
Rigby: One song?
Mordecai: One song.
(Cuts to the house. Inside the garage, Mordecai and Rigby turn on their amps, and are shown wielding guitars)
Mordecai: One, two, three, four!
(They fumble aimlessly at the strings, producing distorted noise)
Mordecai: OK, stop, stop. We need help.
(Cuts to Pops' room, where Pops is playing a beautiful tune on the harpsichord)
Pops: A two-man ensemble? What a charming idea!
Mordecai: How'd you learn to be so good, Pops?
Pops: Ah-ha! (Rises from the harpsichord bench and pulls out some records from inside. The first is 'How to be a Musician' by 'Sir Geoffrey') Throw these records on the old talking machine and you'll be ready for your open mic in no time!
Mordecai: Agh, you know about the open mic night?
Pops: Yes, everybody knows about it. We're all going to be there!
Mordecai and Rigby: Augh!
(Cuts back to the garage. Rigby places the first record on an old-time gramaphone)
Rigby: Wait. If we're gonna learn this in time, then you gotta take this seriously.
Rigby: Put on the shirt.
Mordecai: Fine. (Puts on his Mordecai and the Rigbys t-shirt) Play the record.
(Rigby winds up the gramaphone and places the needle. A scratchy recording is heard)
Sir Geoffrey: So, you want to become a musician? Bravo! Now, what is the first thing all good musicians require?
Sir Geoffrey: Yes! Good personal hygiene is the key to becoming a successful gentleman musician!
Mordecai: (Talks over the record) Augh, this is gonna take like ten years!
Rigby: Yeah, and there's still two more after this one! (Holds up the remaining two records)
Mordecai: There's gotta be a faster way.
Sir Geoffrey: ... all washed up? Good! Now just locate your...
Rigby: All three at once?
(Cuts to Rigby and Mordecai setting three records. Sir Geoffrey talks over himself as they strum badly at their guitars once again)
Sir Geoffrey: (from three speakers)... one, two, three... A minor seventh... Harmonic can be tapped...
Rigby: Dude, this isn't working! I can't understand anything!
Mordecai: Dude, we gotta keep going. Do you wanna look like an idiot at the open mic?
(Mordecai shoves Rigby, who backs into an amp, knocking an opened soda can onto the floor. The soda flows over to power strip on the floor, causing a small electrical fire and plenty of sparks. The power strip explodes, and a bolt of yellow energy flows up through the cables into the gramaphone needles. The gramaphones shoot yellow power through the room and onto the ceiling as Mordecai and Rigby scream. Suddenly the room goes black)
Mordecai: What was that?
(The light re-appears and the room glows yellow, buzzing)
Mordecai: Dude, what's happening?!
Rigby: I don't know!
(The gramaphones levitate into mid air, focus their power into a central ball, spin around, then shoot a focused beam onto the floor. Stylised silhouettes of Mordecai and Rigby appear. The new Mordecai's arm, clad in red, reaches out, and present Mordecai and Rigby's guitars float away towards the new duo)
Mordecai and Rigby: Woah!
(The future Mordecai and Rigby launch into superb guitar solos. Future Mordecai has a goatee and shades, and is dressed somewhat like Michael Jackson; future Rigby has shaved most of his tail, is wearing a flannel shirt and shades, skin-tight black pants, brown boots, and has a pencil thin mustache)
Mordecai and Rigby: Woooaaah...
Mordecai: Dude, who are you guys?
Future Mordecai: (in British accent) We're Mordecai and Rigby. Who the blazes are you?
Future Mordecai: Hah! Just kiddin'. We know who you are. Coz we're you in ten years!
Future Rigby: (in British accent) You don't know it yet, but this is the moment where we teach you how to rock! (Makes metal sign with right hand)
Mordecai: Dude, this is perfect!
Rigby: Wait, wait. We suck, and if you're us, doesn't that mean you suck too?
Future Mordecai: Didn't you just hear us play?
Future Rigby: Yeah, we're super-successful musicians in the future.
Mordecai: Yeah, look at us, dude! We're wearing sunglasses!
Future Mordecai: Our future's so bright, we gotta wear shades.
Rigby: Awesome! Oh, hey, in the future, do we get that thing we always wanted?
Future Rigby: Oh, we got it. (Pulls up shirt to reveal a biting shark tattoo on his armpit, which bites when he moves his arm)
Mordecai: Oh, hey, in the future, do I get to go out with Margaret?
Future Mordecai: Huh! (Suggestively) I wouldn't wanna ruin the surprise.
Future Mordecai: Look. We promise we'll get you ready for tomorrow night's gig if you're willing to put in the work.
Mordecai: Yeah, whatever it takes.
Future Rigby: We said the same thing ten years ago.
Mordecai and Rigby: Awesome!
Future Mordecai: Let's rock!
(A montage shows in which, to the backing of the future Mordecai and Rigby's hit song, they teach the present Mordecai and Rigby all about rock moves and stances. They don't teach them at any time how to actually play an instrument - they practice on brooms and try on new clothes, struggling to walk in their skin-tight pants. The montage ends with future Mordecai and Rigby sitting on the amps applauding their old selves)
Future Mordecai: That's it. You're ready!
Mordecai and Rigby: What?
Mordecai: But we never learned how to play!
Rigby: We haven't even picked up a guitar.
Mordecai: Come on, we got the look, we've got the moves down, I know the lyrics backwards and forwards. Just teach us how to play!
Future Mordecai: Woah, woah, woah! Don't worry. You know enough. You're gonna be fine. Besides, it's too late to teach you anything else. Gig's in 20 minutes.
Mordecai: We're screwed.
(Cuts to the coffee shop exterior, where an excited crowd is going inside. In the coffee shop we see Angel playing a solo piece to wild acclaim. Benson, Skips and Pops enter and take seats)
Angel: (sings) ... You're my sweet little baby, and I think I might be crazy for you...
Benson: I can't believe they're gonna play tonight. Those two slackers have never even picked up an instrument. This is gonna be a trainwreck.
Pops: Woo, I love trains!
Angel: (sings) ... my sweet little baby, and I think I might be crazy for you. (song ends to wild applause. Rigby and Mordecai watch from behind a curtain)
Mordecai: Yeah. (Mordecai walks backstage, holding his stomach and groaning. Rigby picks up a box)
Rigby: Should I hand out the last of the t-shirts?
Mordecai: You brought the t-shirts?
Rigby: Yeah, for the fans.
Mordecai: Dude, we don't even have any fans. (Grabs the box of t-shirts)
(Margaret enters from through the curtain)
Margaret: Oh, wow! You guys look like rock stars. Hey, can I have one of those?
Mordecai: Uh, yeah... (chuckles nervously) Here's a small.
(Margaret struggles to pull on the shirt. Mordecai watches slack-jawed and drops the box. Margaret eventually manages to get the shirt on)
Margaret: How do I look?
Mordecai: (pause) Amazing.
Margaret: I can hand these out for you guys. Get everyone pumped for the closing act.
Mordecai and Rigby: Closing act?
Margaret: Yeah, save the best for last. Well, break a leg, guys. I can't wait.
Announcer: (from through the curtain) And finally, give it up for Mordecai and the Rigbys! Yeah, come on!
(The Future Mordecai and Rigby enter the dressing room)
Future Mordecai: Sorry we're late.
Mordecai: Where've you guys been?
Future Mordecai: We had to get you these. (holds up glowing guitar picks with a lightning motif)
Mordecai: Picks?! But we still don't even know how to play!
Future Mordecai: Just go out there, you'll be great. Just like we were ten years ago.
Future Mordecai: (shoving Mordecai and Rigby through the curtain) Crowd's waitin'! Go on!
(Mordecai and Rigby appear next to the stage. The crowd, dressed in the t-shirts, cheers for them. They take to the stage under the 'OPEN MIC NIGHT' banner. They put on their guitars and plug them into the amps as Mordecai takes the mic)
(Muscle Man is seen at the back of the crowd, standing on his chair and waving his shirt above his head)
Muscle Man: Come on, ladies, play us a tasty lick!
(Mordecai and Rigby look at each other helplessly. Future Rigby motions to Rigby to strum his guitar. Rigby does so and a perfect chord comes out. Mordecai does the same, then they both launch into brilliant lead guitar parts)
Benson: Holy crap!
(Mordecai starts to sing the song)
Mordecai: Your eyes starin' into my eyes, who am I but a guy with two eyes on the prize, and the prize in my eyes is ten times the surprise in your eyes as I kiss you goodnight. / The smile is the fire that lights my soul, gonna remember it until I grow old, cause life's too short, we've gotta do things right, so baby let's just party toni-ight. / Baby, let's just party toni-ight.
(More solos follow, but Mordecai drops his pick. Struggling to lift it up, he hears his guitar part still playing, and his singing part still going, even though he's away from the mic. His guitar, he sees, is plugged into the amp, but the amp isn't plugged into anything.)
Mordecai: (yelling) Rigby!
(Rigby is still rocking out. The crowd cheers as Mordecai waves his arms to stop them.)
Mordecai: No! Augh! (Mordecai sees a CD player at the side of the stage. Future Mordecai and Rigby wave and play air-guitar. Mordecai rushes over and turns off the CD, and the crowd falls silent but for a few calls of "What?")
Rigby: (still playing the unplugged electric guitar, badly) Uhuh! Yeah! Yeah, baby!
Mordecai: You can stop now.
(The crowd boos and heckles)
Mordecai: Wait, wait. I can explain, I can explain! We were lip-synching.
(The crowd boos again. Many throw their t-shirts onto the stage in disgust)
Mordecai: Hey, look, I don't blame you. We thought we could just order some t-shirts and pass ourselves off as a band. But it turns out, playing music's really hard to do. We just got caught up in the dream, man. And just for a little while, it was real. But that's over. And lip-synching's not cool. So we're breaking up the band.
Future Mordecai: (runs onto the stage with Future Rigby) Why'd you stop? It was going great.
Mordecai: You tricked us into lip-synching!
Future Mordecai: Look. We've become rich and famous because of lip-synching. Don't you wanna be a part of that?
Mordecai: (angry) No, that's lame! You may be me, but that's not the me I wanna be.
Rigby: Me neither!
Mordecai: Mordecai and the Rigbys is over. (The two take off their t-shirts. Future Mordecai and Future Rigby begin to fade from view)
Future Mordecai and Future Rigby: Woah, woah!
Future Mordecai: OK, dude. Think about what you're doing.
Future Rigby: Yeah, stop, man!
Future Mordecai: If you break up the band, what are we gonna do in the future?
Mordecai: I wouldn't wanna ruin the surprise. (Mordecai starts to rip his t-shirt)
Future Mordecai and Future Rigby: Nooo!
(The t-shirt rips in two. Future Mordecai and Future Rigby explode in a ball of white light, dazzling the crowd. After a moment of shocked silence, Benson rises to his feet and claps. Slowly the rest of the crowd joins in)
Benson: Yeah-heah! Alright!
(The crowd cheers more)
Rigby: I don't know why you thought this open mic would be embarrassing. This is awesome!
Margaret: (waving through the crowd) Mordecai! Mordecai!
Mordecai: (waving back and fighting through) Margaret! Margaret! Margaret!
Margaret: That was pretty cool, what you said up there.
Mordecai: Thanks, Margaret.
Margaret: Oh, hey, have you met my new boyfriend, Angel?
(Mordecai looks stunned)
Angel: C'mon, baby. We don't wanna be late for our (sings) dinner reserva-ations.
Margaret: Oh, yeah. See you, guys! Oh, Angel, you have such a great voice.
(Mordecai and Rigby stand alone)
Rigby: (pause) Maybe you should have just kept lip-synching.