It was quite the experience, being a Sphinx. Ford didn't have the urge to give everyone a riddle to solve like the legends say. But he did have to be careful when navigating around the Shack; on his first day as a Sphinx, Ford walked into the gift shop and knocked over most of the merchandise with his wings. Stan had not been happy with that, ordering Soos, Wendy and the kids to clean up the mess. Ford learned to fold up his wings as close to his body when moving about.
It was the third day of his transformation. Ford and Dipper were sitting on the floor of his study. Or rather, Ford was lying on his stomach (Mabel called it "loafing") while his great-nephew sat cross-legged next to him with Dr. Crackpot's book opened on the floor. The two of them have been thumbing through the yellowed pages, looking for something that would help change Ford back into a human.
"I dunno, Great Uncle Ford. This looks like an encyclopedia of monsters, but it's not in alphabetical order!" Dipper muttered, turning a page to a woman's scaly torso with bat-wings on her back and a serpent's tongue hanging out of her fanged mouth. "Oh, that's disturbing!"
Ford grunted, agreeing with his nephew. He was really only half-focusing on his nephew's comments, as he was distracted by an assortment of scents for the past several minutes. Somehow, he was able to isolate the smells: sweat, old sweat, something earthy, ink, and dust.
Ford realized two things: one, he's now capable of identifying individual scents from one odor or source and two, his great-nephew reeked.
"Dipper, don't take this the wrong way, but when was the last time you took a bath?" he asked carefully.
It worried him that Dipper actually paused to think about it. "Uh...the other day, I think?" Dipper responded, rolling his eyes upward. He suddenly looked up at Ford. "Wait, why are you asking me this?"
"Because it seems my sense of smell has greatly improved, and your smell is distracting me," Ford explained. His tail swished left and right on the floor as he looked at Dipper. He couldn't explain the feeling that came over him. No, an urge-the smell MUST be neutralized...
Dipper looked nervously at Ford, who lifted himself up by his front paws, his inscrutable stare never wavering. The boy started to sweat. What was up with him? he thought.
"Uh, you know what? I need to get going!" said Dipper, giving his Great Uncle a big, nervous smile while closing the book. He slowly got up to his feet, realizing that the top of his head didn't reach Ford's chin while the Sphinx was sitting. The tufty tail kept swishing left to right.
Dipper breathed in deeply.
"I'llseeyoulateratdinnerIgottagobye!"
He turned and started to run for it, but a large gray paw grabbed him by the waist and reeled him in. Dipper yelled as Ford trapped him between two large paws.
"I'm sorry, Dipper, but this is for your own good," said Ford, forcing the boy to sit down.
"Wait, what are you gonna-?!"
And then Dipper felt a large, raspy tongue run from the back of his neck up to the back of his head...
Meanwhile, somewhere in the woods.
Stan drove the golf cart through a path in the woods, regaling the tourists with tales about Gravity Falls' "legendary" Sascrotch, when an unusual sound pierced the air, making the birds caw and fly away from the trees.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah...!"
The tourists gasped.
"Good Lord, the Sascrotch claimed another victim!" yelped a man.
"Oh, that poor little girl!" cried the woman beside him.
Up in front, Stan (who recognized the scream) cleared his throat and said, "Uh-that's actually the call of the rare-uh-Goober bird. Yep, that's totally not made up! What a treat, folks! Now over there..."
An hour later, Mabel arrived back at the Shack from her boy-talk session with Grenda and Candy. It was a very satisfying discussion about the merits of the pop group, the Bronas Cousins, and their hotness factor.
When she reached the attic room, she opened the door and found her brother in front of the mirror, wearing a bathrobe and toweling his head.
"Wow, Dipper," she said approvingly. "You took a bath earlier than-WOAH, YOUR FACE IS SO PINK! Whaaaaat?"
Dipper dropped the towel, exposing his face on the mirror's reflection. His disgruntled face and ears were very pink, as though it had been given a vigorous scrubbing.
"Don't ask," he muttered. He raised a tube of ointment. "Please tell me it's safe to use this antiseptic cream on my face."
Downstairs, in the bathroom inside Ford's study, Stan leaned against the doorway while he watched his furry twin slurp from a mug filled with blue liquid. When Ford raised his head to gargle, Stan took this opportunity to ask, "What the hell were you thinking, Ford? The kid thinks it's a waste of time to take a bath every day!"
Ford scowled at him before spitting out the mouthwash into the sink. "Probably the lion's side of being a Sphinx," he explained. "Cats need to groom to wash off the scents that would make them vulnerable. Dipper's odor activated that instinct. Bleagh, I hope he washed his hair thoroughly."
"Well, at least you got the kid to take a bath today," said Stan. He chortled when Ford returned back to the mug for more mouthwash.
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Author's Note: The entry of the woman's torso with the bat-wings was a description of the manananggal, a monster from Philippine folklore.
