Nothing special, just a quick and somewhat immature little piece. Hope you enjoy!


"….Ladies and gents, welcome aboard the Mobile Mystery Tour!" Stanford Pines greeted with hearty flair as he started up the tram. "For a measly twenty-five dollars, an experience like none other awaits you!"

The passengers oohed and aahed collectively as they drove around the property grounds. Stan meanwhile was wearing a grin that was nearly half the size of his face. The man was in his element, and relishing every moment of it. "Coming up on your right, folks, you'll see Dinosaur Boulder, and one of the best preserved tyrannosaurus footprints in the country!"

They passed by a large stone bearing a crudely chiseled shape with one too many "toes." The gullible group gasped collectively in amazement, and at least a dozen digital cameras immediately went off.

"And jsut to let you know, we have plenty Dinosaur Boulder t-shirts available at our lovely gift shop!" He aggressively pushed. "On sale this week only for three easy payments of nine ninety-nine, paid all at once! At prices like that, we're practically just giving them away!"

Murmurs of agreement went up, much to Stan's absolute delight. On some days, milking the masses was almost too easy. All it took was a few fresh attractions, the right touch of showmanship, and the money practically jumped from their wallets.

"All right folks, and here we have a real treat!" He announced as he brought the tram to a quick stop. "The Mystery Outhouse! How long has it stood here? Was it built last week? Was it constructed by early settlers to the area? Did ghosts have anything to do with it? Nooobody knooows!"

Again, a chorus of awed gasps filled the air. Never one to let an opportunity slip by, Stan reminded, "And for just ten bucks, you can pick up our one of a kind outhouse snowglobes back at the shack, where only the highest-quality souvenirs grace our shel-"

"Hello? Is anyone out there?" A voice suddenly rang out softly from inside the attraction. Stan immediately was thrown both off his guard and his game, and for a few moments just sat and starred. Realizing that he had a situation on his hands, he reached for the intercom and made a hasty announcement.

"Uh…hold onto your horses, folks! Just got to take care of a little something here." He then scrambled from the driver's seat and dashed over to the outhouse. As much as he wanted to simply drive off, he knew that the tour group had heard the gravelly and unmistakably elderly voice as clearly as he did. If there was anything that'd be bad for business, it would be ignoring a confused old woman in front of a sizable crowd.

"Hello?" The occupant gently inquired again in a quaver. "Hello? Who's there? Dear me, did the tour start already?"

Stan dawdled for a moment before announcing his presence to the befuddled tourist inside with a soft knock on the splintered door. "Um…yeah. Ma'am, Stan Pines, owner of the Mystery Shack. This attraction is actually off-limits to visitors."

"Goodness gracious!" She exclaimed in embarrassment. "And here I am, with my bloomers down and everything. Oh, I'm sorry, Mister Rines, I thought this was the ladies' room. I'll just pull these up, hold it in and-"

He grunted in dismay and nervously looked back to the tour group. "Gah! Uh…no, no it's okay, actually. Just…uh….just finish up your business, ma'am, and...um…you can just join the rest of the group. I'll even give you a two-dollar discount…eeuugghh, make that a dollar-fifty, actually."

"Well, bless your heart, young man." She rasped appreciatively. "Don't you worry, I should be finished here in just a minute or two."

"Yeah, yeah…" Stan flashed the others a reassuring grin before switching back his attention. This was aggravation he simply didn't need, not when there were waiting rubes to be fleeced. "Just make it quick, and if you could keep it down-"

A horrific din that sounded like a chainsaw cutting through a pile of mayonnaise suddenly rent the air. Instantly Stan's jaw immediately nearly hit the ground, as the tour group erupted with cries of horror and disgust.

"Yeesh!" He preemptively pinched his noise. "Lady, what the heck was that?"

"I'm sorry! Mercy, I-I'm so sorry!" She hastily threw out a wispy apology. "Oh how embarrassing! I didn't mean to-"

Another awful revolting din suddenly rocked the summer afternoon. This time it sounded more like someone violently stomping on a goose, but it wasn't one iota less repulsive than its predecessor. A pained moan swiftly followed.

"Oooh! Oooooh! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I had the beef stew at that nice diner down the street, and I…oh dear…oh d-dear!"

One more gag-inducing clamor trumpeted out so loudly Stan instinctively backed several feet away in alarm. Meanwhile the tourists had started to throw shirts and hands up over their faces to try to fend off the foul odors they expected to assail their nostrils any second now.

"Lady? Y-you okay in there?" He inquired nervously. "Do…do I need to call a doctor or something? L-lady?"

"No…n-no, Mister Signs, I think…I think I'm done he-oooh! Oooh no, wait, no I'm not! Oh I'm not at all!"

Once again, a soggy explosion mercilessly violated the ears of everyone in listening distance. At this point, a few hoarse sobs rang out from the appalled tour group. The outhouse had now unofficially become home to the world's most repulsive one-person symphony. Panicked out of his mind, Stan's self-preservation instincts kicked in, and he turned tail and sprinted back with the speed of an Olympic athlete.

"Hang tight in there I'll check on you later good luck!" He yelled out in one breath before hurling himself into the driver's seat and slamming down on the gas. Immediately they were off, and as the sickened visitors reeled, their guide roared loudly over the cacophony of nauseated cries."Remember folks, no refunds! No refunds!"

With a screech of tires the tram tore from view, just as another round of pungent-sounding horror ripped from the tiny outhouse. Shortly after the coast became clear, the little old woman with epic gastrointestinal distress opened the door and tumbled out, revealing her true identiy.

Giggling like mad, Mabel threw herself onto the ground as she was fast incapacitated with mischievous joy. Her partners in crime quickly followed, each one laughing themselves half to death already. Dipper dropped his expertly played whoopee cushion and flopped stomach-first into the grass as mirth wracked his scrawny body.

"I can't breathe! I….can't….breathe!" He managed to gasp. Wendy meanwhile had genuine tears trickling down the sides of her cheeks.

"When you t-told me to follow you out here, I-I...I didn't think we'd... we'd actually..." She wheezed and wiped at tearing eyes.

For a good several minutes, the three could do more than cackle away before finally collapsing from joy-fueled exhaustion. Barely had she started to catch her breath though when Mabel found herself struck by inspiration.

"Can we do this again? Tomorrow? And after that? And until it stops being funny?" The small girl was nearly delirious with triumph as she flashed them the brightest pair of pleading puppy eyes she could. "Please? Pleeeeease? We barely tapped the comedy goldmine here!"

"Stops being funny?" Dipper repeated with a chuckle. "So…don't you really mean 'until the end of the summer?'"

The sweater-clad mastermind snickered like a fiend as she shook her head furiously. It wasn't long until her joy proved to be absolutely infectious, and despite his splitting sides, her brother couldn't help but let fresh laughter flow forth.

Having wholeheartedly embraced immaturity for the moment, Wendy voiced her consent by cupping the bottom of her palms over her mouth and blowing wetly. The almost unsettlingly realistic sound effect that followed pushed everyone over the top again, and another two minutes of unfiltered glee followed.

As her bright brown eyes glistened wetly, the ringleader tossed her hands in the air and excitedly squealed, "All in favor! MOTION APPROVED! Anyone wanna add anything?"

Wendy tittered as she clutched her aching stomach. "Yeah…you guys make me so happy, it literally hurts…"