Chapter Two: Bogolicious Deal

Trigger Warnings: Mild Language (It's ONE word)

Word Count: 1,094

The plane tickets came in the mail later that week, along with another letter, explaining what to do when he arrived in SSM, Michigan. Looks like they really were going to be giving him the VIP treatment, which was obviously well-earned.

Dipper stuffed the letter in his pocket, and reached up to adjust his hat. He glanced up for just a moment, noticing that a brand-new neon pink poster was covering the corner of his half-sized, vintage ABBA one. He groaned,

"Mabel…"

He stomped down the hallway, following the distant sound of incessant humming. It led him into the kitchen, where his sister was sitting at the table, listening to her iPod and stitching up a hole in one of her old sweaters. He walked up, slamming his hand down on the table, making her jump in her seat.

"Oh! Dipper!" she replied, startled, "What's going on?"

She smiled innocently, but he continued to glare her down.

"What's wrong now?" she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice this time. Dipper crossed his arms before replying with a scowl,

"You put that damn poster of yours on MY SIDE of the room!"

Mabel rolled her eyes, keeping a smile on her lips.

"You're crazy. I checked before I put it up, Dippy," she told him, going back to her sweater. Dipper leaned in,

"Oh, really? You checked?" he sneered, "Well, you obviously didn't measure it correctly, because it's CLEARLY on MY SIDE of our room!"

Mabel groaned,

"Will you stop freaking out? What does it even matter?"

Dipper shot her one last glare before turning around,

"We split the room evenly for a REASON, Mabel! I don't want your stuff on my side!"

Mabel frowned,

"Where are you going?" she asked, a little concerned.

Dipper sighed,
"I'm gonna talk to Dad and see if he'll reconsider my offer for once."

"You know he won't," she told him, "Face it, bro, you're stuck with me! Just deal with it!"

"I refuse to put up with this anymore!" Dipper stormed away and to the front porch. He glanced around, noticing the garage door was opened. He dashed over to the garage, finding his father inside.

"Hey, Dad," he started nonchalantly. His father didn't look up. Dipper clicked his tongue before finally continuing,

"So…what are the chances that I'll have my own room by the time I get back from the con?" he asked quickly. His father glanced back, confused,

"What? What are you talking about?"

Dipper frowned,

"Come on," he told him, "You can't expect me and Mabel to fit in that tiny room forever, right?"

His dad just shook his head, sighing loudly.

"Dipper," he replied, still not turning around, "I've told you before, I'm not going to force Mabel and your mother to give up that craft room."

"Why can't we just put a bed in there and make it Mabel's room?" Dipper offered desperately.

"Her bed won't fit in there," his father sighed, "You know that we've tried everything we could, little man. You'll just have to stay put until college, okay?"

Dipper groaned loudly. This was just stupid! He was never going to get his way!

"Just enjoy your trip to Michigan," he continued, "Won't you have a whole, big suite to yourself?"

Dipper narrowed his eyes,

"No," he spit out, "I won't! Because I have to—surprise, surprise—SHARE it with someone!"

"Well, at least you'll have a chance to make a new friend," his dad offered. Dipper scoffed and walked away. There was never any point in trying to get what he wanted around here. His dad was just as effeminate as his mom and his sister. It was like he was the only man in this house, and it was way too frustrating.

He stomped back inside, only to be ambushed by his sister, holding up her fixed sweater.

"Check it out, Dipper!" she exclaimed, and quickly pulled the sweater over her head.

"It still fits!"

Dipper rolled his eyes with a sigh and made his way to his-their room. Mabel quickly followed behind, asking,

"Are you gonna wanna borrow one of my sweaters for your trip, Dippy? I hear it can get chilly over there! You gotta be prepared!"

Dipper slammed the bedroom door, keeping Mabel from entering. He heard her pause and then walk back to the kitchen before he walked over to his bed, pulled out his half-filled suitcase, and hastily finished packing.

His parents were at it again.

Norman sat on the steps to his house, trying to ignore the incessant arguing between his mother and father. The flight wasn't scheduled to leave for almost another two hours, but his dad never liked being late. He glanced over and cringed as his father carelessly tossed his laptop bag into the trunk and slammed down the lid. Oh, well, it's just a piece of junk, anyway…

He started to pull out his cell phone when he heard a familiar voice nearby. He stood up, walking up to the fence, and he glanced down the sidewalk to see Neil and Salma walking towards him, hand-in-hand. Neil was chatting the poor girl's ear off until he noticed Norman walk up to meet them.

"Hey, guys! I didn't think you were gonna make it," he told them sheepishly, motioning to his parents shuffling around and getting into the old station wagon in the driveway.

Neil told him that he would have gotten there earlier, had Salma not stopped by his place first, making sure he hadn't been wasting his time all day and actually completed his homework. Salma rolled her eyes and turned back to Norman,

"Congrats, by the way, on the essay. I'm surprised you did not need my assistance with your paper. I would have expected an offer to proofread, in the least, but it seems it was unnecessary. After all, you did actually win their contest."

Norman smiled weakly. Salma's compliments were always disguised like insults, but he did his best to accept them.

"Uhm, thanks," he replied. Suddenly, a loud honk came from the car parked in the driveway, and his father shouted for him to get in. He glanced back, starting towards the car, but turned back to wave at his friends before running up to the car and getting in. The car started with a loud sputter of the engine, and they were quickly off to the airport.

Before his parents could even start, Norman pulled out his iPod, shoving the earphones into his ears and pressing play.

Chapter Three: Plane and Ordinary

Get what I did there? No? Okay. Stupid joke; my bad.