"What're you doing?"
"Studying."
"You've been doing that since you got here."
"Yes."
"Do you do anything else?"
Ford suppressed a groan – barely. It was like dealing with Stanley all over again.
"Look, Shermie, can't you go play with a ball or something?"
"Mom told me to stay upstairs 'cuz she's working and she has a headache. And anyway, you're in my room. You have to do what I say."
Ford had never been one to grind his teeth, but Shermie was seriously testing the impulse.
The Pawnshop had exactly two rooms over the store: a bedroom and a bathroom. Ma and Pa's room was downstairs. When Shermie was a baby, he'd slept in a cradle next to Ma's side of the bed. But as soon as Ford had moved out, Shermie had moved in. The walls were now covered with posters of cars, superheroes, and gum wads covering the stars on Ford's old constellation charts. Shermie had recently discovered Silly String and had used it to connect the gum wads in what was simultaneously a gross and accurate representation of the star maps.
Shermie held up his latest can threateningly. "I say you have to get your nose outta that book and play games with me, or those books are gonna get real stringy real quick."
Good grief, it really is like talking to Stan!
"Fine," Ford snapped, shoving himself back from his desk. "What game is so important that you have to interrupt my musings on the very nature of the universe?!"
He may have been slightly harsher than he intended. Shermie actually took a step back when Ford pushed away from the desk, but he quickly rallied himself.
"Checkers," he said firmly. "And I get to be red. And if I win you have to play again."
Ford snorted. He was a regional chess champion, for Sagan's sake. There was no way this kid would win.
He won.
Ford stared at the board. "How did you..."
Shermie rolled his eyes, picked up a piece, and handed it to Ford. When Ford held it up, nothing happened, but then he happened to turn it slightly. The piece shimmered in color from red to black. Ford had been so distracted, thinking of the calculations he'd been making, that he hadn't noticed when Shermie had turned a piece to make it seem like Ford had different pieces in different places on the board.
"What on earth is this?"
Shermie shrugged. "Spray paint. I was doing this thing with silly string and I wanted to mix two colors together to make graffiti, and then I thought, what if I could make graffiti that would disappear?"
"And you, what, figured out how to create a holographic effect by mixing spray paint?"
"No, I sorta had to raid the high school science lab."
Ford looked at him, amazed. "How old are you, exactly?"
"Eight, why?"
"No, no, that was rhetorical." Ford held up the piece again, his eyes shining with excitement. "This – this is amazing, Shermie! You're a chemist in the making! What else have you been doing?"
Shermie eyed him. "You're not gonna get me in trouble, are you?"
"For what, using your brain?" Ford laughed.
"Well, some of the stuff I've come up with isn't exactly, y'know, legal."
"Ah."
Shermie's mouth twisted up. Ford recognized the expression. It was the same one he wore when he really, really wanted to tell Pa about a new invention he'd made up – but he knew he'd get nothing but that blank glassy stare and an order to man up and get his head out of his books.
"I promise I won't incriminate you," Ford said firmly. "I would genuinely love to see what you've come up with. Just the holographic spray paint alone has amazing potential applications!"
"Yeah?"
"You could camouflage yourself to study creatures in their native habitat! Assuming they don't have thermal sensory detection. And even if they do you could use it to coat special cameras and place them anywhere, even out in the open, without being detected!"
"I actually have done that a couple of times," Shermie admitted. "Got some pretty good close-ups at the beach. Mostly of old people and some walruses, but a couple of cute girls. There's this one girl..." A dreamy look came over her face, an expression that clearly said: I'm gonna marry her someday. Then he sort of shook himself out of it and stood up. "Okay, I'll show you what I've got. S'long as you promise not to tell."
"I promise," Ford repeated.
"'Cuz I mean, I don't know you very well, you bein' at college for most of my life. But brothers don't back out on brothers," he warned.
A funny feeling jumped in Ford's gut, like he'd swallowed an eel. He ignored it. "I promise," he said again.
"Kay." He went over to his bed, pulled off his pillow, and plunged a hand into a hole in the mattress – the same one Stan had once used to hide his collection of three-point shooters.
Shermie took out a small metal box, replaced the pillow, and brought it over. He seemed both restless and excited, as if he'd never had a chance to show off his genius to someone who would understand. Ford could relate to that. He was pleased that he could be for Shermie what he always wanted for himself – someone who would encourage and support his intellectual pursuits. Clearly the boy had inherited the most important Pines family traits.
"Alright," Shermie said, lifting the lid. "Prepare to be amazed, folks..."
A/N: THIS WAS SO SO FUN TO WRITE! /^,^/
Okay, I have SO many headcanons about Shermie, but I will limit it to this:
-The baby Ma Pines was holding in "A Tale of Two Stans" was Shermie. Ford's been in college getting his degrees, which takes a while, so he's away for most of Shermie's younger years.
-I also like the idea that Ford and Stan have an older brother named Shermie, who left to join the military and left his son Shermie (Junior) at home for Ma to raise.
-Shermie grows up to work in the military like his father, working with designing new spy tech.
-Shermie remembers Ford so fondly for listening to and admiring his inventions, that he tells his kids all about how Ford is such a great role model. So when said kids decide that their own kids, Mabel and Dipper, could use some fresh air, who better to send them to than their great-uncle Ford?
