Mabel and Teek's Excellent Adventure

(July 4, 2014)

Chapter 9


"You can get off him now," Jahrkves said coldly.

"Just five more minutes," Mabel said, still clinging to Teek and snuggled up to that incredibly cool T-shirt.

"Uh—Mabel? There's Little Soos right over there," Teek said.

"Soosie!" She sprang off him and whirled. Sure enough, Little Soos, looking happy enough, sat on a rug in the, well, not corner, it was a circular room, but in the niche between a window seat—window above it wide open, hundreds of feet above the ground, nothing to keep the kid from clambering up and dropping to his death—but he was too busy playing with what looked like a pile of goblin bones, drumming on a small skull with a small tibia.

"Not so fast!" The Goblin King snapped his fingers, and Mabel felt the air congeal to something like taffy. She could make no headway and came to a halt leaning forward at a fifty-degree angle.

"What gives?" she demanded, struggling to stand up straight. "Little Soos is ours!"

"That remains to be seen. We must play the game—"

Mabel stared at the child. "You're letting him play with bones? That's unsanitary!"

Teek sniffed the air. "To be fair, so is Little Soos."

"They're not real bones!" the Goblin King said. "They're made of plastic! They're from a kit that teaches little goblins about basic anatomy!"

"That's disgusting!" Mabel said.

"Well, there don't happen to be any toy shops around here that sell human toys!" Jahrkves told her. "Really, we do the best we can, it's never appreciated!"

"Amazon has, like, same-day delivery," Teek pointed out helpfully.

"Yes, well," Jahrkves said in a sulky tone, "they only carry toys for females!"

"No, they don't!" Mabel said.

"The Amazons here do!" Jahrkves made a visible effort to control his temper. "All right. All right. We're going to play a game. The winner gets the baby!"

"Rock, paper, scissors!" Mabel said, sticking out her hand. "Gimme a rock! One about the size of a baseball should do it!"

"No!" the Goblin King told her. "Listen. We shall go to opposite corners—"

"Circular room, no corners," Teek said. "The narrator just said that a few paragraphs ago."

(I am astounded at his politeness. It's so rare that we narrators are even noticed. I mean, we slave away at the keyboard, trying to provide interesting plots and verisimilitude and all, and the characters never ever even think of us, not once! Thank you, Teek.)

"What—you—what narrat—what are you even talking about?" Jahrkves demanded. "Have I taken crazy pills?"

Mabel explained, "He's pretending that we're in a story, 'cause he has this theory that narrative conventions are this world's natural laws."

"Yeah," Teek said with a shrug. "It was just imaginary. There's not really a narrator."

(Oh, thank you SO much! Imaginary, am I? You know, I COULD have a swarm of rabid winged crocodiles come flying through that open window right this second if I wanted to! Oh, wait. Got to look something up, just be a moment. I'm back. Huh. Only mammals get rabies. Who knew? Where were we, anyway? Oh, right, to build up tension, we were about to abandon the scene in the tower and cross-cut to Dipper. Three dramatic chords! Flash cut!)


Dipper, waiting for his great-uncle Ford to answer the phone, started at something and frantically looked all around the attic room. Then he heard Stanford's voice: "Hello, Dipper! I'm planning to drive over there later—"

"Hi, Grunkle Ford! Hey, did you hear that?"

"What? I heard my computer phone ring."

"No, sounded almost like, I dunno, music? Chords? Dum-da-DUMM! Dramatic, you know? Never mind, not important. Listen, I've got this crystal ball I want to ask you about."

Ford sounded immediately interested: "Is it unusual?"

"It . . . might be. This is Gravity Falls, right? I have it right here. It's maybe two or three inches in diameter, very clear, and I think it's real crystal, not some polymer and not glass. It's a kind of yellow, I guess? Little more orangey than lemony, but definitely a yellow?"

"Hm. That sounds vaguely familiar. Early in my research career, I did collect several such artifacts. The majority of them were just replicas and glass imitations, of course. Some nice quartz spheres, though, particularly one rose-quartz. I wonder what Stanley did with those. But this one's yellow? Where did you find it?"

Dipper explained. "Must have come from the Shack, then," Ford said. Yellow, yellow . . . there's something nagging at my memory. Let me see. Oh! Citrine, of course!"

"Citrine?"

"It's a mineral," Ford said, and Dipper realized he was about to launch into exposition. "A variety of quartz, some of it—especially specimens from Spain—almost matching the color of topaz. I do remember collecting a crystal globe of citrine, oh, more than thirty-five years ago! I was still in grad school, and I ran into a traveling carnival. The fortune-teller was retiring and had a tent sale—would have been a garage sale, but she didn't have a car—and I picked that up for a hundred dollars. I had to eat ramen noodles for a week after that! Anyway, the fortune-teller warned me that it was in tune with another reality. That was an interest of mine, the possibility of alternate realities, I mean, but as far as I could tell, it was merely a fine specimen of pure citrine."

"Could it have caused something weird?" Dipper asked. "Because Mabel, Teek, and Little Soos seem to have disappeared."

"Hmm. The maiden, the hero, and the child. Characters out of classic fairy tales. Could it be that to trigger the crystal's powers all three had to be in one place at one time with the citrine globe?"

"I . . . don't know," Dipper said.

Ford chuckled. "That was rhetorical, Dipper. Just talking to myself. It's a habit I picked up while traveling between dimensions. I'll come over right away. Oh—do you mind if I bring a lady friend?"

"No, of course not," Dipper said.

"Good, good. I'll phone her and we'll probably just meet there at the Shack. Or is parking going to be a problem?"

"Not yet, but later when the barbecue begins—"

"Good point. I'll park around back, near the totem pole. I'll see you in half an hour."

The moment Dipper hung up, his phone rang, and the musical ring identified the caller as Wendy!

"Hi!" he said.

"Dude, are you like in trouble?" she asked, sounding worried. "I just had this odd kinda tingle."

"Not me, but I think Mabel is. Probably," Dipper said. He hurriedly explained.

"Oh, man! She's missing, and so is Little Soos? I'll bet Soos and Melody are going crazy!"

"No, because they don't know about it yet," Dipper said.

"Then don't tell them. Listen, I think Dad's had about as much of Aunty as anybody can take. I'll get him and my brothers into the pickup and we'll be back in Gravity Falls in less than an hour. I'll get Dad to swing by the Shack and let me out—say I'm gonna help with the barbecue. Later I guess Stan or somebody can give me a ride home."

"Sure!" Dipper said. "Please hurry. I need you!"

"Aw," Wendy said. "Hang in there, Big Dipper. I'll be there ASAP!"

Dipper hung up and put the crystal ball on his table in the slant of light from the triangular window. He leaned over and peered into its depths. "Show me Mabel," he murmured. "I want to see my sister. Show me Mabel Pines!"

Nothing happened.

He sighed and pulled his laptop toward him, fired it up, opened a browser, and began to look up the qualities, physical and mystical, of citrine.


"Fine!" the Goblin King roared. "Mabel will stand against the wall, there! I will stand against the other wall—"

"Only one wall in a circular room," Teek said.

"You tell him, sweetie!" Mabel cheered.

"If it had a half-twist, it would also be a wall with only one side. A Möbius wall," Teek continued.

"What good is a wall with only one side?" Jahrkves sounded like a man clinging to reality by one fingernail.

"Save on paint," Mabel suggested.

The Goblin King counted to ten, very slowly. He took two deep breaths. "Mabel will stand there, right, and I will stand, diametrically opposite her, against the wall over here!"

"What's the diameter of this room?" Teek asked.

"The dia—I don't know! I'd have to check the blueprints!"

"We'll wait," Mabel said.

"I—don't—know—where—the—blueprints—ARE!" he growled between clenched teeth. "Last I saw of them, they were tucked in a sticky drawer in a disused pantry about two hundred floors under us!"

"Tower's not that tall," Mabel pointed out.

"It's quantum, all right? Anyway—here. You, Teek, YOU take this piece of chalk—" he snapped his fingers and a big chunk of sidewalk chalk (yellow, does it even merit mentioning?) appeared in his hand. He gave it to Teek. "—right, and draw a straight line from one wall to the opposite spot on the SAME wall, and Mabel will stand at one end of the chalk line, and I'll stand at the other, and the baby will be in the center. EVERYBODY HAPPY?"

"I think Little Soos would be happier if I changed his diaper," Mabel said. "But I've misplaced the diaper bag. I think I might have left it at the mad tea party. Want me to go back and get it?"

Jahrkves closed his eyes. "Round table, middle of a clearing, a chocolate cake eating all the other treats?"

"Sounds right," Teek said.

"Fabric bag, over-the-shoulder handle, brightly colored pattern of flowers—daisies, I believe?"

"That's it," Mabel said.

The Goblin King snapped his fingers, and the bag appeared in a poof of smoke. Yes, the smoke was yellow. Stop bugging me about colors, please. Just assume yellow.

Neither Teek nor the Goblin King wanted to watch the process of diaper change (few men ever do), so they stepped to the window and gazed out over the countryside, the breeze fresh and piny-smelling in their faces.

"Really nice view," Teek said.

"Thank you," the Goblin King said. "I chose the hill because of that. I remember when all that was just woods."

"It's still just woods."

"Yes, well, I remember when it was different trees."

"It's a lot like our world," Teek said. "I mean, you see that waterfall over there?"

"I like a water feature, don't you?" Jahrkves said. "It's . . . calming. And sometimes I need calming."

"We have the same waterfall. We call it Gravity Falls Falls."

"That's peculiar."

"Well, the valley is Gravity Falls Valley. I think the waterfall was discovered after the valley, so it got the double name."

"Makes sense, I suppose. We call it Goblin Valley Falls."

"Anybody live in the valley other than goblins?"

Jahrkves shrugged. "Of course. Gnomes and centaurs. Fauns and fairies, a few assorted monsters, a few humans—wizards and witches, mainly. Everyone gets along. Live and let live, you know."

"Kind of that way in our valley, too," Teek said. "Didn't use to be. We're in the majority there. For a long time we humans ignored all the magical creatures."

"Well, that's a kind of accommodation, too," Jahrkves said.

"Yeah, but our world almost ended a couple years back, and since then, the supernatural creatures have sort of come out of the closet."

"How many ARE there?"

"Hundreds of thousands, I guess."

"How big are human closets?"

"All done!" Mabel said. "OK, where does Little Soos sit?"

"I've actually enjoyed several phrases of our chat," the Goblin King said to Teek. To Mabel, he added, "Let Teek decide where the middle is and put him there."

Teek drew the line and stepped off the paces: Nineteen from Mabel's spot to the opposite end, which was a good number because it meant he could pace nine steps from Mabel's side, make a cross mark, then pace off nine steps from Jahrkves's side and make another, and right between the cross marks Little Soos sat.

"What did you do with the dirty diaper?" Jahrkves asked.

"It's in a sealed baggie," Mabel said. "You can toss it in the trash later."

"I'll have a goblin do it."

"Whatever."

They went to their corners, sorry, force of habit, I mean their opposite points on the line, bowed to each other, and Jahrkves said, "Rules. Neither of us can move from our spots before the baby comes to one of us. We can entice the child with words and gestures and any props we may have. Teek will remain against the wall over there, neutral, and not speak or urge the child in any way. The one that the child creeps to is the winner."

"What happens to the loser?" Teek asked.

"If you lose, you become—hm. No, I don't think I'd want you as kitchen slaves. In fact, I don't want Mabel at all. I'd have a nervous breakdown. All right, if you lose, I just tell you how to get back home and let you go, but I keep the child."

"And what if you lose?" Mabel asked.

"Then I lose the child."

"That's not fair!" Teek said.

"It's the same for both of us!"

"Yeah, but we get sent home. You're already at home," Mabel pointed out. "If you lose, you have to send us AND the baby home safely. And, um, increase government spending for goblin art education programs! By twenty-five per cent! And if it's nothing now, double that percentage!"

"Fine, all right," Jahrkves said. "Anything else?"

"Can't think of anything," Teek said nervously.

"Hmm," Mabel said. "Look, GK, I may have said some mean things to you before, but I'm upset about your taking the baby, is all. I apologize for hurting your feelings, OK? And i gotta tell you: you're rockin' those tight pants, dude! And your hairstyle is to die for! And, oh yeah, thanks for decking my guy out in these threads. I'll say this for you—you got style!"

Jahrkves smiled. Softly, he said, "You know, Mabel, if conditions were quite different, I would take you as my queen and my bride."

"Hey!" Teek said.

"What conditions?" Mabel asked, sounding intrigued.

"Well," Jahrkves said, "to begin with, I'd have to be completely insane. Ready? We begin in three . . . two . . . one . . . NOW!"