Blessing


2 (Written for Wendip Week 2017 for the prompt 5 1)

(August 31, 2017)

"Mabel," Dipper asked early on the morning of their eighteenth birthday, "can I borrow your car?"

"Nope!" she chirped brightly. "But I'll drive you to Wendy's house!"

"Uh . . . I want to . . . ask Manly Dan something."

"Yup! So, you might need a driver to get you to the hospital." Mabel had gone retro—a new version of her rainbow sweater, and her hair band in a matching red—and they set out right after an early breakfast.

It was only seven o'clock, but Manly Dan was an early riser. "Git them trees before they're full awake," was his motto.

Gravity Falls was already stirring on that Thursday morning—a morning that threatened rain later, with low gray clouds. Mabel's graduation present, a new Chevy Sonic (bright red, stick shift, a compromise because Mabel had requested a BMW M6, a wee bit pricey), took the curves well, though Dipper had to grip the edge of his seat from time to time.

"Off to college next month," Mabel said. "So—you and Wendy are gonna room together, I guess?"

"Married couples do," Dipper said between clenched teeth.

"Set the date?"

"Today."

"No freakin' way!"

"Yeah—squirrel! Squirrel! That was close. Just a civil ceremony, to make it legal. Then on September 15, we'll have the church ceremony and you'll be—"

"Maid of Honor! Yes!"


Wendy was waiting on the porch of the Corduroy house. She hugged both Mabel and Dipper. "Happy birthday, you guys! I now pronounce you technically adults. Mortgages and weight control forever!"

"Is, is your dad—?"

"In the living room, dude. Mabes, let me drive your car for a little ride with you?"

"Sure! Here's the keys. Try not to hit any wildlife!"


Manly Dan glowered at him. "Well. Finally come around, did you?"

"Yes—yes, sir. I love Wendy, and she's agreed to marry me. I—I—we—I—"

"Spit it out!"

Dipper gulped, feeling like a twelve-year-old again. "I want to ask your blessing on our marriage!"

For many seconds, Manly Dan just glared at him. "You think you're man enough for my baby girl?"

Taking a deep breath, Dipper said, "If I'm not, I'll die trying to be."

Manly Dan cracked his knuckles. "Here's the deal. Let's put you to the test. Six, in fact. You fail 'em, you can't marry my daughter. You pass three, I'll give my OK."

Dipper clenched his jaw. "You're ten times stronger than I am, and I know the kind of test you'll put me to. Let's say if I pass one, you'll give us your blessing."

"One. OK. I hope you know what you're up against."

"I think I'll find out."


The two trees were of identical girth. Manly Dan said "Ready, set, go!"

Their axes flew. Dipper had learned a little about tree chopping from Wendy—but Dan's muscles and expertise had deep roots. Chips flew from his tree like sawdust from a buzz saw. When he yelled, "Timber!" and his tree crashed to the floor of the forest, Dipper had cut maybe a tenth of the way into the trunk of his own tree.

"One down," Dan said with a fierce grin. "I'll finish that one for ya. We don't have all day."


Dipper had seen Wendy do this a dozen times—loop the belt around the trunk, walk yourself up, quickly relocate the belt, repeat. Tree climbing, easy-peasy.

He got up five feet, lost two while repositioning the belt. Up ten, lost two more. Up fifteen—

"Two down!" Dan yelled from the crown of the tree. "You aint' doin' so well, sonny boy!"


"Let's do something I'm good at," Dipper suggested.

"Like what?"

"Math."

Dan grinned. "How many board feet of timber are in that first tree I cut? We'll measure it and calculate."

Maybe if Dipper had ever heard of the term "board feet" he might have stood a chance. As it was—

"I got 2500," Dan said. "Halfway through, and you ain't come up a winner yet. You want to check my figures?"

"No, I'm sure you're right," Dipper said with a sigh.

"Three to go, son. You want to go through with this?"

"Sir," Dipper said, "I'll see it out. But if I fail every single one and you don't give us your blessing—you know we're still going to be married."

"That so?"

"It's so."


They drove to the lake, to the place where back in July the lumbermen had thrown their get-together. In the pen a waterlogged, well, log, still floated. "Log rollin'," Dan said. "I know you seen us do this. First one to fall in the water loses."

For the first time that morning, Dipper gave Dan a run for his money. His track experience had given him speed and agility, and they were as important as sheer bulk and strength.

Forward, reverse, canny stop, leap, faster, slower—the log revolved in the water as the two struggled to stay on it.

And then something went wrong. Dipper's foot slipped on the slimy log. Dan reached down and plucked him out of the water.

"Down to two, boy."


At least Dan lent Dipper some of his son's old clothes, though Dipper did not feel at home, really, in flannel shirt and overalls. Next was—the hatchet toss.

Dan had a target set up out back. "My baby girl," he said, "can get five in the circle every time. Let me show you how."

It was almost like a juggling trick. Dan held four hatchets in his left hand, one in his right, and onetwothreefourfive he threw, shifted another, threw again, and all five were in the air practically simultaneously. With solid-sounding thwacks! they embedded themselves in the wood and stuck there quivering inside the faded ring of the painted circle.

Dipper . . . didn't have the knack. The very first one hit handle-first and bounced off. In the end, he managed to get one hatchet to stick, and it was outside the circle.

"I got my doubts about you," Dan said. "One chance left."

"Next?" Dipper asked grimly.

Dan grinned at him. "Arm wrasslin'."


"So . . ." Wendy said suspiciously, "Dad let you win?"

"Not exactly," Dipper said. "We sat down at the table, got into position—he had to sit way back because his arms are so much longer—and when he said, 'I'll count to three, and then we go,' I interrupted his count. I said, 'Sir, I just want you to know why I think I'm man enough. When I was thirteen years old, I slept with Wendy.'"

Wendy and Mabel both gasped.

Dipper shrugged. "He was so shocked that I think he was paralyzed for a second. That was when I slammed his fist down on the table and then, real quickly, explained that we just fell asleep watching TV on the floor in the Shack that New Year's, and nothing happened."

"And—you're not a ghost, are you?" Mabel asked. "He didn't kill you?"

"No. He laughed. He clapped me on the shoulder so hard I think I have a mild sprain. He said, 'That's what I was waiting for, boy! I know you got the Pines smarts. Listen, I want me some good strong, smart grandkids from you and my daughter. You get to work on that soon.'"

Wendy blushed. "That's my dad!"

"But," Dipper said, "he also told me he was just funning with me. He was going to give us his blessing anyway."

"Well-p," Mabel said, "that's one down. Now for Mom and Dad."

"Two down," Wendy said.

"Say what?" Mabel asked.

Dipper chuckled. "We'll tell you," he said, "when you're older."