Curse of the Wolf Boy

(May 2015)

1: Throw Money and He Dances

With his broken leg mostly healed, Manly Dan Corduroy had left his crutch behind and had graduated to a cane, and though he still wore a special brace-boot on his injured leg, he was getting around well. He stopped in at the Shack on a Saturday morning in early May—Wendy was still living there, since Junior wouldn't go back north to Steve's logging camp until his dad was able to take on all the heavy work himself—and at first, she thought he'd just come to see her.

"Nah, baby girl," Dan rumbled. "Stanford and Stanley got an appointment with me today. We're gonna go over the blueprints for their houses that I'm gonna build down the hill. We got the lots cleared and the driveways 'dozed out, the foundations Danny poured last month are 'bout ready, and now we're gonna start framin' in."

"Oh," Wendy said. "They didn't tell me. OK, well, I gotta handle the gift shop this morning. We're expecting five tour buses before noon, along with the usual car traffic."

"Can I just set here and watch you?" Dan asked.

Wendy laughed. "Sure, Dad. Haul a chair in from the parlor and park it here against the wall beside the counter. I warn you, though, there's not much to see."

However, Dan seemed enthralled as Wendy went about straightening the items on the shelves, changing out a couple of damaged tchotchkes, and stocking the register. "When do the customers come?" he asked her.

"We open in twenty minutes."

Someone tapped on the door and Wendy said, "'Scuse me, somebody showed up early." But then she glanced through the glass panes on the door and did a double take before unlocking and opening the door. "Gideon?" she asked in an unbelieving voice.

"Hi, Wendy," Gideon Gleeful said. "Here for my first weekly shift of the tourist season as th' Wolf Boy. My, my, if I may say so you are looking good!"

"Come on in, dude," Wendy said. "Uh, I think you've met my Dad."

Gideon, who held his costume in a garment bag slung over his shoulder, said, "Why, to be sure! How are you, Mr. Corduroy? I hope you're recovering from your untimely accident."

"Uh, yeah, doin' good, doin' good. Uh, thanks," Dan said.

"Well, I have to get into my costume and make-up. Is my dressing room free, Wendy?"

"You mean the upstairs bathroom? Sure, dude, knock yourself out."

He went up the stairs, whistling to himself, and Dan said in what for him was a whisper, "Who the hell was that guy?"

"Gideon Gleeful," Wendy told him. "'Cept I haven't seen anything of him all winter. He's changed a whole lot!"

And he had. At thirteen, he'd shot up several inches. He must have been watching what he ate, too, because he had trimmed down—or shaped up, anyway, and maybe he had just grown into his weight. He was no longer a butterball, but a solid-looking young teen. And the poofy bouffant hairdo was gone—now his pale blond hair was still full, but he'd gathered it at the back into a ponytail. Most amazing of all, he no longer wore his bolo tie and pale blue Western-style suit.

He was actually in jeans and a black tee shirt, worn under a denim jacket. Had Wendy been fourteen rather than nearly eighteen, she would have admitted that he looked kind of hot!

Dan frowned. "Gideon Gleeful? That little frou-frou haired ball of turkey fat? That's really him?"

Wendy shrugged. "Yeah, it's him. I guess maybe he's got, like, a girl friend or something. He's toned up a lot since last fall!"

"Boy friend would be my guess," Dan rumbled. "Uh—not that I'm sayin', you know."

"Don't stereotype, Dad," Wendy told him with a smile.

Soos, in full Mr. Mystery regalia, came in, cheerfully greeted Dan, with whom he'd worked on several carpentry projects, mainly involving the Shack, and asked Wendy if they were ready to open.

"As we'll ever be," Wendy said. "Hooray, hooray, the first of May, tourists start to go nuts today!"

"It's the second of May, dawg," Soos told her gently. "But, yeah, they'll be pourin' in any minute now. Hark! I hear footsteps on the porch!" He threw open the door and said, "Welcome to the Mystery Shack, the shackiest mystery place in Central Ore—oh, hi, Mr. Pines and Dr. Pines. I thought you were, like, tourists or some deal."

"The place ready for business?" Stan asked, stepping past Soos and glaring all around. But then he smiled. "Oh, hey, Dan! Saw your truck out front. Sorry we're a little bit late."

"That's OK," Dan said, getting out of the chair. "Yeah, that's the four-wheel drive. Want to ride down to the site with me and we'll inspect the foundations, make plans for the framing?" He reached for his cane.

"That will be acceptable," Ford said. "It's not an ideal day—a little misty—but from the foundations, we can get a good idea of the placement of the houses."

"Why," said a voice from the doorway, "hello, Stanford! And Stanley! You're both looking well."

"Holy moly!" Stan said, blinking, his jaw dropping. "Gideon? What the fuzz happened to you? You're all buffed up!"

Wendy also gawped in surprise. Gideon's Wolf Boy costume was more elaborate and professional than the dog-hair leggings that Stan had forced Dipper to wear. His were more like chaps, the faux fur a match for his own hair. They rode low on him, but now with his flatter stomach he carried that off better. He wore a sort of modified, matching bolo jacket to make his arms look furry, he'd applied dark press-on nails to serve as claws, and he had—Wendy squinted—yes, he'd glued on a chest-hair wig. "Thank you," he told Stan. "Ghost Eyes convinced me I should be livin' a healthier life-style, so I've been doin' some weights and a little bit of road work and I'm layin' off the sweets!" He raised his chin. "Lookie here. I got an actual neck now!"

"Dude," Soos said, "that's a revealing costume! I mean, OK, I got no room to talk, I was Questiony the Question Mark, but you look like a chipper-shredder dancer or some junk!"

Gideon winked. "All the better to get big tips from the ladies! Whoo-ee! OK, I'll pull the curtain and I'll be ready on stage when you get a bunch in. Oh, and Soos? I brought some new music. Here." He handed Soos a USB stick. "Six songs, six slightly different routines. First one is 'The Big Bad Wolf,' for the kiddies, and then 'Hungry Like the Wolf' for the older ladies, and then there's a number by Rise Against, and I'm afraid it has some naughty words, but this is an instrumental version, so that should be OK, right? Just play that one whenever there are some hot teen girls, you know…."

"I understand completely, dawg," Soos said when Gideon had finished. Wendy knew that meant Soos would play the songs in random order.

She said, "Uh, I'll work the player, Soos. You got a lot of stuff on your mind."

He laughed. "Boy, do I! Uh, do I?" He chuckled. "Oh, you're right, I totally do. Thanks, Wendy!"

"Well-p," Stan said, "much as I'd like to watch you do your bit, I misplaced the melon baller a long time back and anyways, we got some business to take care of. Later, everybody!"

He, Ford, and Dan left just as the first tourist bus hauled in. And it was a good haul—sixty tourists, all with money from which, as Stan had always said, they were eager to be separated. Soos took half of them on the Mystery Trail tram ride while Wendy ushered the others through the museum and back into the gift shop, just in time for Mr. Mystery to re-appear and announce the amazing captive Wolf-boy who danced if you threw money at him.

And the curtain opened, and there stretched out and lounging on the stage, propped up on one elbow, was Gideon, smiling through his fake fangs. He crawled on hands and knees up to one of the younger tourists, a teen girl, and all but purred, "Don't tell me you're Li'l Red Riding Hood! I hope you're not scared of widdle ol' me!"

Wendy hit the play button, and he jumped up and went into his "Big Bad Wolf" dance. And, sure enough, the tourists threw money—not just coins, but fives and tens!

"Give you twenty if you'll howl!" one guy yelled.

Gideon grinned, struck a pose, and—"AoooOOOoooOOOOoooOOOOw!"

"Worth it!" the guy said, handing over the bill.

After the routine ended, the teen girl lingered to talk to Gideon, who sat perched on the edge of the stage. "Honey," Wendy heard him saying, "if you're gonna be in town for a while, let me take you an' show you some of the wild life!"

Oh, brother, Wendy thought.

And so it went for the rest of that day, with Gideon doing six shows in all. Then when the Shack closed at a few minutes past six, Gideon, still in wolf-boy costume, sat at the counter reckoning up his take as he stacked bills in order of denominations. "Two hundred and ten, two hundred and fifteen, two hundred and thirty, two hundred and thirty-five. And twenty-two singles. And I'm guessin' on the coins, but I'd reckon I'm gonna do two hundred and sixty, easy."

"New record, dude," Wendy said, smiling as she tilted her stool back and put her feet up on the counter. "Congrats!"

"Yeah, it lets me keep my hand in at performin'," Gideon said stretching. "I reckon I can get along all right without the hornswoggling and all, but I do kinda miss the spotlight, you know?"

"Well, you're real good at holding a crowd's attention," Wendy said. "Some of those fourteen- and fifteen-year-old girls were interested in you, man."

"Yeah, they're right sweet," Gideon said, packing away his cash in a leather pouch. He seemed to hesitate. They were alone in the gift shop—Soos was out putting away the tram, and Melody, who was expecting her second child literally any day, was resting as Abuelita took care of Little Soos off in his new playroom. Gideon cleared his throat. "Uh, Wendy? You and Dipper Pines have investigated some spooky stuff over the years, right?"

"Yeah, just a little bit," Wendy said, amused. Gideon had been there for a lot of it, especially back around Weirdmageddon.

For a few seconds Gideon seemed to be thinking something over. Then he sighed. "I'm gonna show you something," he said. "Nobody outside of my family knows about this." He unfastened the wolf-suit leggings and began to take them off.

"Whoa, dude!" Wendy said.

"Aw, I got swim trunks on underneath," Gideon said. He pushed the right leg of the wolf suit down. "See this?"

"Man, what happened?" Wendy asked, staring at the three-inch long curved scar on the pale outside of his thigh a few inches above the knee.

"I got bit," Gideon said. "Last fall. Out in the woods. Uh, you know what Sunday is?"

"Tomorrow?" Wendy asked.

"Full moon tomorrow night," Gideon said. Then, in a voice quivering with anxiety, he added, "Wendy, I got bit by a werewolf!"

"No way!"

He pulled the wolf-boy pants back up and sat on the stool Dipper always used when he helped Wendy out at the counter. "Yes way. I mean, it ain't like I turn into some slobbering monster—well, there's some slobbering—but I get all furry and my hands and feet turn into paws and I grow a tail and long pointy ears and a kinda snout! And fangs! And I'd run around in the woods nekkid and wild, 'cept my folks put me in a cage now. Well, it's really a kennel for a big dog? But I can't get out of it when I turn. And I ain't yet bit anybody, but I'm afraid I might do it, 'cause the change makes me go kind of crazy and I kinda black out for part of the time."

"Man, are you for real?"

"Yeah," he said miserably. "Would you do me a great big old favor? Would you get in touch with Dipper and see if there's some way or 'nother to cure this here condition of mine? 'Cause I don't mind playin' a wolf boy—but I'll tell you right now, it ain't much fun bein' a real one! I can pay him somethin' for his expenses, tell him."

"Dip won't want your money, but I'll do what I can," Wendy said. "You gotta know, though, it's too late to try to cure you before tomorrow night, man."

"Yeah," Gideon said with a sigh. "So tomorrow night I spend in a cage, like a dumb old dog. I got to say, bein' a werewolf is a weird mix of good and bad. I hate bein' a bipedal lycanthrope—did I say that right?—havin' to be all caged up for two days every month. On the other hand, it did help me get in good physical shape! And to tell you the truth, I'd purely love to get together with one of those adorin' teen-age girls when the moon's right, you know—'cept I just know I'd bite her!"

Trying to get that image out of her head, Wendy said, "Uh, I always face-time with Dipper on Saturday evenings. I promise I'll ask him tonight if you can do anything to, you know, fix this. Whatever Dip says, I'll give you a call before the moon rises tomorrow."

Gideon slipped off the stool and picked up his money pouch and from a nail driven into the back wall retrieved the garment bag with his underwear, jeans, shirt, and jacket inside. "Reckon I better run up to my dressin' room and change into my street clothes. Wendy, I surely do appreciate your help. Man, it just sucks, havin' to go through this agony once every twenty-eight days—well, I don't have to tell you that, do I? You're a girl—"

"Dude," Wendy said, "don't go there!"