"Wendyyyy, you've been in the your room getting ready for the our date for the passed minutes, when shall you be done in there?"
Wendy was preparing herself for the difficult mission of relieving Dipper's libido. She only agreed to going on the date because he gave her, like, twenty bucks. She had already spent the money on Uncle Stan's catheter bills. "Dipper, women take a long time," said Wendy sternly. "When my mother got me ready for the schooling, she never had-" her sentence went unfinished, as she was interrupted by Mabel kicking the door in with her foot.
"It is time," Mabel howled.
"Mabel, how did you know?"
"Dipper, we are cousin sisters, and I know who you know." Mabel bitch slapped Dipper.
Dipper huffed, and he puffed, and he blew off the makeup Wendy had been trying to put on for the past hour. "Mabel, are you going to ruin my love affair?" Dipper wiped his brows.
Mabel smirked. "Mayble."
Dipped turned to his lover, 25 years of experience factoring in the ages of her lovers. "You look prepared," he lied. It looked like she had poured an entire bottle of ink all over her face. "Wendyyyy," he whined.
Wendy flicked her hair. "What restaurant am I wasting my hard-earned cash at again?"
Dipper smiled dumbly. "Wendy's," he chortled. "It reminded me of you."
Wendy stared at the ceiling, praying this wouldn't end up like last time. She cleared her throat, the sputum hitting Mabel. "I got my license revoked for bashing in mailboxes with a baseball bat last week, so I'm not gonna be able to drive your ass there."
"I can drive y'all." Mabel offered, wiping the loogie from her blemished cheeks.
"No can do," said Dipper, standing proud.
Mabel regressed.
Dipper said, "We should locate the lost soul that is my Uncle Grunkle."
Mabel hit the buzzer. "What is Ask Grunkle Stan?"
Wendy's phone rang. "I'll get in the car. You two figure out the Stan plan. I'll put in the keys."
Dipper and Mabel shook hands, and agreed to set aside their differences just this once. Mabel grabbed Dipper's feet, and Dipper grabbed Mabel's feet, and they rolled out the door like a sibling wheel. Wendy admired this feat of feet. Wendy had a drank.
Dipper and Mabel scrounged for Uncle. They chequed the cupboards, the plateboards, and even the bowlboards, but Stan Pines was nowhere to be found.
"Shit," Mabel grunted. "I wish I got paid for this. I don't get paid enough."
Dipper suggested a workers union.
"Mabel wants food." Mabel bellowed as she knocked on the door four times to the cellar before using her brother to deflower the door.
They were surprised to see their Grunkle wearing a ski mask and a pair of grimy red overalls and headlamp wielding his band saw halfway through the loudly squeaking body of what used to be Waddles. He had dissected.
"GrunkleStan, we need a ride to Wendy's. Can you drive us?" Dipper tried to convince his relative, but the metallic ringing of the bandsaw and the terrified squeals of Mabel's pork were too loud. He gave up and tackled Grunk into his own saw.
His fez shielded him from the damaged, but he managed to stay cool. "What the hell did you just say?" Gramps washed the blood off his guilt-ridden hands.
"We need a vehicle," Mabel and Dipper begged on their knees in unison.
Grunkle Stan was pleased, mostly due to the proximity of the twins' mouths to his inflated balloon. "Very well, m'lady," he said, struggling to look Dipper in the eye. "Lemme go rev up the ol' John Deere."
The posse piled in. It was not a lawnmower.
Wendy's ribs were being crushed between the vibrating walls of the car and the vibrating balls of Dipper. "Dippet," Wendy emanated unenthusiastically, "Your privates are rubbing up against me."
Dipper hoped she wouldn't notice, but she did, so he was not happy. He put it away. It took them 17 minutes and 4 hours to arrive at Wendy's restaurant.
Everyone had fallen asleep, including Grunkle Stan. He collapsed onto the horn as the car swerved into the parking lot, hitting a telephone pole and wrenching it out of the ground. Everybody awoke from their beauty sleep.
Dipper pointed to Mabel, and Mabel pointed to Dipper. "We wee'd!" they said in unison, high-fiving over the now soiled seat.
"I wish I had some weed right now," Wendy moaned provocatively.
Soos weakly rolled out of the trunk. "The stench!" he screamed, soaked in urine.
"So that's where you were!" Stan growled. "I was wondering why the toilet wasn't flushed."
"I haven't eaten in a week," Soos cried. He heaved from the smell, but there was nothing to bring up. He grabbed hold of Mabel's skirt to guide his path.
The gang moseyed on in to the inspection-failing Wendy's. Instantly, they all lost their appetites, except for Soos, who absorbed all of theirs. Everybody, including Wendy, walked up to the counter.
"Table for 4," Dipper chimed up.
"That is good because that is the amount of chairs we have available left for you so it is a good thing you got here in time" the Wendy's lady said flatly.
They tried to sit at a table, but the woman threatened them. They relocated as the instructor directed them to the correct table.
She gave them a thumbs down.
Dipper, Dipper's sister, Dipper's girlfriend, and Dipper's great-uncle slid into place. Dipper's forgotten coworker did not have a place. It reminded him of high school. He tried to grab a chair that was unused, but the waitress slapped his hand away, giving him the finger.
Soos lay face down on the floor, sobbing and weeping like a dejected dog.
The waitress curb stomped Soos and pulled a notepad out from between her boobs. "What the flying fuck do you want to order?" she whistled like a fairy.
Grunkle was moved, both emotionally by the waitress's stunning boobies, and physically by Mabel pushing him aside to wail her order out.
"I'll have the number 3!" she howled.
The waitress's eyes went dead as she pressed a button on her neck. "We're all out of number 3." The words 'number 3' were an instant replay of Mabel's voice.
Wendy pulled herself together. "A large DIET COKE and a number 2, cause I'm feeling like shit."
"We don't have- 'like shit'- on the menu."
"Do you have a number 1?" Wendy asked.
"No."
"Do you have the number 4?" Wendy asked.
"No."
"Do you have some number 5?" Wendy asked.
"No."
"Do you have any number 6?" Wendy asked.
"We are all out of number 6."
"Do you have number 7?" Wendy asked.
"No."
"Do you have my number 8?" Wendy asked.
"No."
"Well what do you have?" Wendy asked.
The waitress responded instantly. "The family platter of sauerkraut, anchovies, and mustard."
"Perfect dish!" Great Stan intervened. "We'll take a dozen."
Everybody was too busy gagging at the thought to protest. The waitress came back to life. "Welcome to Wendy's, may I take your order?" She left.
Dipper seized the moment. He was ready for the courting ritual. "Wendy," he spoke, his prepubescent voice cracking like the San Andreas Fault, "Wanna know where babies come from? I learned all about in in sex ed. Just kidding. Mabel told me."
Wendy rolled her ankle.
"Well, really, she showed me this cool web site called porn hub dot com."
Mabel sighed, "Dipper, that was a different part of the process."
INTERLUDE
Stanley Pines was on his iPhone 3GS, using the 3G capabilities to access the internet.
His fingers fumbled around the keyboard like a game of Twister.
"Where is the 'S' button?"
All of the chairs were glued to the ground. Soos was having a tough time looking for his "seat." Soos's legs gave way to his body's pain, and he fell face-first to the unfinished wood floor. His nose became lodged within a hole. Soos snorted like the pig he used to be. "Is that the rotten stench of fresh meat?"
Soos's eyes began to water and his lip curled in a sneer of happiness. It was feeding time for Soos. Soos bared his fangs and started gnawing through the floor like a used document shredder and he bored his way to the basement.
Dipper's blood was pumping. The food had not yet arrived, and the tension between himself and his star-spangled lover was increasing by the minute, 48 of which had passed. He tapped his foot, slowly at first, quickly turning into a vicious stomp.
Mabel slammed her hands on the table. "Dipper, what the soaring dick are you doing?" she huffed and puffed.
Dipper shook his head, cranium and otherwise. He was at a loss of how to intrigue Wendy. Nay a thought rushed through his below-average brain. The thought hit him like his dad used to.
Dipper slammed his hairy leg on the table and pulled up his shirt with vigor. "Hey, Wendo, wanna see my Dipples?"
Dipper caressed his own chest, just as he hoped Wendy would. She would not, she could not. "I will not stand for this!" But just as the wind may come and go, the food came and went straight down on the table. The waitress slammed it reflexively food-first, splattering the mystery meat round and round.
Stan had at it like a dog in heat. "This is the best," he moaned through his stained teeth. Mabel tried to pick up an oyster, but it wasn't an oyster.
The kitchen was beautiful. Painted a bright crimson, the shelves were neatly organized with various breads, spices, and poultry. It reminded Soos of home. The chefs were cooking stew and sandwiches. "Hello, young man, you look hungry," one of them said, holding out a plate of pasta.
This is what Soos thought he was seeing. It reality, Soos was covered head to toe in sewage and maggot-filled table scraps. What he thought was a waitress was actually a dead rat. He had gone totally bonkers. He accepted the raccoon bones which he thought was spaghetti and chomped down. "This tastes a little undercooked," he thought as his teeth shattered.
There was not much time left for the obese orphan. In a way, he knew his fate was sealed, but the temptation of nourishment was just too strong…
Mabel finally found an oyster, but she wasn't hungry anymore. She just pouted.
"Hey, Wendy," Dipper smiled. Wendy looked at the security camera, hoping somebody would understand. Dipper circled his chest. "My Dipples are Dictating."
Wendy rose up. "No. Fuck this, fuck you, and fuck my life. You can kiss my wet salty ass." She packed her bags and started to leave.
"Where did I go wrong?" Dipper reminisced.
As Wendy exited the building, she was halted on her way by the employee which had served her. "Pardon me, miss, but may I have your name?" the uniformed woman asked.
Wendy was reluctant. "Um, it's Wendy," she answered.
The waitress's eyes glowed red, and a speaker came out from her dress. The sound machine blared, setting off all fire alarms within a 30-mile radius. Wendy's ears and eyes were suffocated by the sounds of sirens.
Three large unidentified men grabbed Wendy by the hair, taping her mouth shut and throwing her into a potato sack. With a swift kick, she was knocked out and thrown in the trunk of a car marked, "Denny's."
The girl was whisked away faster than the family could make it out. Mabel's braces fell off in shock.
Dipper sighed, disappointed. "Aw, man!"
Stan pretended to care, placing his groty hands on Dipper's shoulder. "Sorry, kid, she's gone…" He looked to the distance. "Just like the thousands of trees lost to deforestation each year. WIth your support, we can help save these trees, and make America a better, woodier place. Contact your senator today."