It's morning of the next day. Day two. Dipper should be waking up any minute now, she hoped, and once he does, she will need his help to change him back to normal.
She fell asleep at the foot of her bed. She woke up with a puddle of drool next to her. She left the room to make her and Dipper breakfast.
She ate hers, and brought his upstairs.
It was pretty much just grass on a plate.
She sat it on the edge of the bed, and watched him lie there.
She frowns, and turns to leave. Just then, she hears the shifting of bed sheets and whirls around. Dipper was finally awake. He slowly sat up, his ears feld back. His hands were hooves too, she doesn't know how she missed that. He rubs his forehead, stops, looks at the hoof, and screams.
"I can explain!" She exclaims. "Gideon did it!" She points to nowhere in specific.
Dipper opened his mouth to speak, and choked out a shrill Ba-ah.
He clasped the toes of his hooves over his mouth in shock.
"Oh man. You can't talk, either? We gotta do something about this fast, before Grunkle Stan comes home."
Dipper gives her a worried and confused look, lowering his hooves to his sides. "Right." He says.
"...Oh. I can talk."
Mabel crossed her arms.
"Sorry. I just- BA-AH."
He did it again. He did the thing. The thing he does. He did it. Again.
Mabel giggled. "Okay, that's pretty funny, Dip."
"No it isn't! It's like hiccups that never en- BA-AH!"
He covered his mouth again and glared at her.
"Ha hah! Come on, there has to be something about this in your big dumb book." She said casually, gesturing to him.
"That's just it... I kind of lost that thing a few days ago."
"What?! Why, Dipper? Why?"
Dipper shrugs, a nervous grin spreading across his face.
"Don't you smile SHEEPishly at me, mister!" She yells.
"NO! NO PUNS!" He whines.
"Okay, okay. But Gideon is still breathing down our necks... We have to make it through the next two weeks in one... Fleece."
Dipper grouned loudly.
... ... ... ...
Dipper slowly made his way down the stairs, wobbling and swaying, his hooves threatening to trip over themselves.
And they did. He tumbled down to Mabel's feet, and she picked him up. "That's looks harder than wearing high-heels."
"How would you know what that's li-BA-AH!"
"I don't. I've seen you wear mom's, though, and those looked pretty hard to walk around in."
"Oh... Never... Never talk about that again, please."
"Sure thing... Can you manage?" She asks, still holding him up.
"Yeah, I think so." He says, taking a few steps forwards. He falls over.
"I think you're supposed to stand on all fours." She adds.
He struggles to his (four) hooves. His small, poofy tail starts lashing. "This is stupid. I can't go around like this! Can we atleast shave this wool off, so I can look like a normal wierdo?"
"You would probably just look like a creepy Satan worshiper walking around on his four devil hooves if you did that. With his devil horns. And his satanic case of hiccups."
He sighed, stumbling over to the door. "What are we gonna do, first? Try to find the book? Go beat the cr- I mean... "delay" Gideon's arrival a little further?"
"Well..." Mabel cooed, scratching the back of her head.
"Oh my god what." He knows she did something. What else could she have possibly done?
"I kind of invited Candy and Grenda to come over before all this happened. So we're kind of expecting some company."
"Why would you do that?! It's just us here!" He grabbed his horns in a panick.
"Oh hey, that feels kinda nice..."
"Really?" She asked.
"Yeah... And I have the wierdest urge to slam them into something. I'm gonna go smash my head against that wall over there. You can get ready or whatever."
"You're teething, Dipper. With your head." She said, slightly disgusted.
He was already banging his head against the wall.
"Uh..." She turned around, heading back up the stairs.
... ... ... ...
She came back down to check on him. It was about four in the afternoon now, and she was getting pretty sick of the noise he was making.
"Oh my god, Dipper." She gasped, walking over to him. He put two huge holes in the wall. "You need to stop."
"I... Can't... Stop... Ba-ah."
He sputtered inbetween collisions.
She pulled him away. "Your horns got bigger, too. I think that's a bad thing."
She was right, they were longer, and started to curve, probably into a spiral.
"Are you hungry or something? let's just go make you dinner." She said nervously, dragging him into the kitchen.
He stared blankly at the wall he was murdering, slowly rubbing his horns.
"Okay! What do sheep eat?"
He looked up at her. He was leaning against a counter. "I have no clue. I have a human mouth, I might have a human stomach. Just feed me people food."
She hands him a cookie, and he graciously accepts.
He takes one bite of it and spits it back out.
"This tastes HORRIBLE. What kind of cookie IS this?!"
Mabel looks at the bag. "...They're just chocolate chip."
"Not even past the expiration date?"
She picks the bag up, examining it. "Nope. Perfectly fine. We just bought these."
"Oh, man... I don't want to eat a bunch of... Whatever sheep eat... For the rest of my life!"
"Don't worry! We're going to fix you! Just... Look, grass probably doesn't even taste like grass anymore. You might like it."
Dipper frowns in disgust. "No way. If I have to eat a bunch of plants, let it atleast be some kind of store-bought lettuce-salad crap or something."
Mabel rolled her eyes. "Do you THINK we have that kind of stuff here? Geez Dipper, we're not vegetarian hippes. We never eat our vegetables anyways, Stan stopped buying them WEEKS ago."
"Then go to the store and buy some. Use the money he left us!" He argued, banging his hooves against the counter in a fit of rage.
"You're throwing a tissy fit? Over salad? What's gotten into you?" Mabel grabbed him by the arm and ceased his temper tantrum. "What?" He asked, his face red from pure rage.
"You're throwing a fit. Stop it." Dipper looked down at the counter. There were cracks in it. "Oh, I didn't even notice that." He whispered loudly, tucking his hooves behind his back.
"Sorry..." His ears feld back. "Come on, just wait a little while, I promise we'll go to the store tomorro-... Oh no."
"Grunkle Stan didn't leave us any money, did he?"
"Nope."
Dipper looked out of the window. "I'm so lost. What are we going to do?"
"We'll figure something out. We always do. Mystery twins, right?" Mabel put her hand on his shoulder, as he let out a long, depressed sigh.
"I guess... I guess I'll eat grass then." He murmered.
"That's the spirit! And look! You have a grass eating buddy." She pointed out of the window, to the goat that hangs around the Shack. He was nibbling at the ground.
Dipper narrowed his eyes and snorted.
Mabel backed away from him slowly.
