The newspaper read in big, bold letters: "STAN PINES DEAD". Stan Pines looked at the headline and grinned. He'd actually pulled it off; who'd have known that the biggest lie of his life would be his death? Stanley Pines was officially gone, and it was time for Stanford Pines to take his place. It's not like anyone would miss Stanley, anyway. Ex-Stanley-Now-Stanford leaned back against the counter and began to think about a funeral. He didn't really need one, did he? Nobody in Gravity Falls had known Stanley Pines, and he couldn't think of anywhere non-local to hold one, other than Glass Shard Beach. And Glass Shard Beach was a place he was never returning to. Besides, he didn't have the money. No, he decided, a funeral wasn't necessary. The sound of the phone ringing interrupted his train of thought. He jumped a little before picking up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Stanford, it's your mom. I have some bad news…" His mom sounded like she'd been crying. Stanley's heart felt like it was imploding. His mom's voice was one he hadn't heard in years. He suddenly couldn't remember how to talk. His mom took in a shaky breath on the other end of the line. "You might want to sit down, honey. Stanford?" Stanley forced himself to breathe again.
"Yeah, I'm here. I'm—I'm sitting. Go on, ma." Did he sound enough like Ford? Geez, how did someone even sound like Ford? His mom seemed to buy it, however.
"Your brother…baby, Stanley's dead." He heard her let out a sob, and vaguely registered that his stomach felt like ice. He was aware that he should be saying something, but what should he say? What was the proper response from a grieving brother? He regained his wits and put up a heart wrenching performance into the phone.
"Oh." It was quiet, final. His mom was still crying. She managed to get some words out that Stanley could understand.
"—having a funeral, y-you should come s-say goodbye—" Stanley internally cursed like a sailor. He would love to see his mom again; hell, just a few months ago he would've done anything to be able to see him again. But even though he and Ford were identical twins, they had some physical differences. Stanley looked at his hands. "Two differences, in fact…" he thought miserably. He heard himself speak.
"I can't go." There was no emotion in his words. His mother was silent for a moment.
"I haven't even told you what day—"
"I just can't go, ma. I'm sorry." He stood there gripping the phone, white-knuckled, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. He struggled to think of something else to say for a moment, before rushing out an "I love you." Then he hung up the phone. He continued to stand next to the phone, waiting for his grief-stricken mother to call back.
The phone didn't ring again that day.