I twist my human hands around the wooden handle of the broom, trying to keep my eyes low as the customer walks in.

"You may not appear in your…uh…Dorito form. Only as a human. People remember you, you know. They remember you as the demon who tried to destroy us all. So keep a low profile."

"Right. Okay, I think I can do that."

I flicker my eyes up. It's some random person with a shirt on. That's seriously all I have going on the guy. He's a human. There's no difference between one and the other.

"Second. No magic. I mean, maybe when we close for the night you can use teleportation, maybe clean something with magic, but no making anything. No creation of life, or of absence of life."

"Oh come on, you're killing me here!"

"Do you want a home, Cipher?"

"Okay, alright, alright, I can do that, Shooting Star…"

I'm awkward with a broom. It's still weird to hold stuff with these hands. It's like controlling centipedes independently. Three-jointed centipedes. I'm trying my hardest not to fling dust into the air, so I basically stay in one little two-foot radius, sweeping every iota of grime into a tiny little cylindrical pyramid.

"And lastly, you can't invade anyone's room. No reading our books, or looking through our diaries, or clicking around on our computers."

"You're just inviting it at this point."

"Cipher, I have a pig. He is armed."

"Point taken. But I'm in a human. Where will I sleep? On this…is this seriously papier Mache? This is a papier Mache skull. I can totally get you a real one, no sweat. Seriously?"

"We have an extra room. Just sleep in there. You'll be free to customize it, make it whatever you want. Within the boundary of the human dimension."

"I guess that's alright. I can live with that."

"Welcome to the Mystery Shack, Bill."

I adjust the hat I've put on my head. It's sliding off slowly. Usually I have some magic force holding it on. I'm not allowed to use it here. I guess… Maybe it's weird for humans to have floating hats? I've seen people with hats attached to their heads with wires, so who are they to judge the rest of the human race?

Long story short, I've been reformed. It took a lot of persuasion on both of our parts, plus three musical interludes and a short theatrical performance, but now I work and live full-time at the Mystery Shack as a thirteen-year-old human. I guess I'm not good with making up humans, so I took inspiration from the Internet, which is one of the most beautiful things the human race has ever made. They told me to look kind of like "Neil Patrick Harris", who's an actor. I'm blonde, lanky, and dapper as hell. I kept my hat as best as I could, and Shooting Star tied my bowtie. Pine Tree had the idea of putting a white eyepatch over one eye, to keep my one-eyed thing going. Shooting Star and I went out and bought me a yellow and black wardrobe.

I probably look like I have some cleanliness disorder. Or like I'm thinking very dark thoughts. In reality, I'm paused, holding the broom with both my hands, and staring intently into my dust mound. I get a stare, so I take the chance to walk over to a different place and sweep another little pile. Pine Tree's actually doing something useful with his broom, however. He gives me a rough look. I shrug at him and wiggle my fingers apologetically.

The shop closes. The last straggler leaves with a geode. I'm left alone in the shop, still sweeping a little mound of dust. I've become so entranced in it that Question Mark has to shake me out of it.

The shop closing seems to be the release of the magnetic pull between the Pines family. The children shut themselves into their rooms, the teenager drives off, Stan Pines goes off to buy or steal something or another, and I'm left to my own devices. So I explore.

There's the damn papier mache skull. I pick it up and test it, rolling it from hand to hand. Before I know what I'm doing, I hurl it into the wall across from me and it shatters into a million pieces.

It takes me a second. What was I thinking? There was no anger or pleasure in that. All it was was an automatic release. I kneel down in the shards and wave my hand over them, surrounding each in a blue aura, about ready to piece the thing back together when I think of something. I toss the shattered bits into the trash can and wave the human hands around in some motion that seems to match with the summoning of the skull. It's clean, white, and empty. It settles down in my hands like a silken orb. I drag my fingers across the smooth, soft surface of the bone. Human hands may be almost completely useless, but the sense of touch just one of those things to live for. I reset the new skull perfectly where the original one was.

The rest of the shop is pretty familiar to me. I use my fairly new fingers to feel around the inside of a geode, shivering slightly at the slight pain of pressing my finger roughly into the crystal and drawing a tiny bead of blood. I pull my hand away, staring at the little quivering drop of blood. I touch it with another finger and watch it roll silently down my finger. I wipe it off and walk around some more.

Pine trees.

I scan the shelf. For some reason, I had never noticed it. It's a single file line of Pine Tree's caps. They're classically overpriced and an exact carbon copy of the last. I pick one up and tilt it around, dropping it twice in the process. I'm not sure why, but it intrigues me. I remove my little hat and replace it with the cap, surprised at how comfortable it is. I teleport to the nearest mirror.

I look like a straight haired, blonde Pine Tree with an eyepatch and a suit. Okay, so I look nothing like him. Who cares?

"BILL!"

I recognize the voice as Shooting Star. I look to the left, then spin around on my heel, staring right at the Pines siblings. I'm inadvertently in their room.

"Oh! Sorry. I just…I was…" I look up at the hat on my head. "Yeah, I'll go now."

I wheel around on my heel and yank the door open awkwardly, closing it with a slam and trying awkwardly to stumble down the stairs as normally as possible.