I'm really new to this fandom, but I wanted to try my hand at some Relativity Falls. I wrote "Tourist Trapped," trying to strike a balance between keeping some stuff the same while changing a lot of the details. I don't know too much of the dialogue, though, since a lot of it is mine, so I'd love some feedback. I'm also not too thrilled about the title, but I couldn't think of anything better. Finally, this episode is divided into two parts. I'm not sure if I want to continue this AU beyond that, but I might. So, think of this as a pilot episode. Anyway, without further ado...

Warnings: implied child abuse, kidnapping by gnomes

Chapter 1

Summer vacation was, in Stan's opinion, the best time of the year. Normally, it meant days wandering around with his twin brother on Glass Shard Beach, searching for something fun. Leisurely days with nothing to do except play under the sun and try to stay out of the way. Relaxing.

Yeah, right. Stan supposed that this summer break fit a certain definition of relaxation…if that definition included hurtling down a road in a rickety old golf cart, chased by an unimaginable horror.

With his brother about to puke and a girl screaming at the top of her lungs.

Stan was pretty sure relaxing wasn't the word he was looking for.

It all started like this…

Stan and his brother, Ford, lived in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Their father owned a pawn shop, their mother was a phone psychic, and their older brother was off getting shot at in a war no one understood. Except maybe Ford, who'd tried to explain it to Stan once with a whole bunch of words that Stan was pretty sure college students would struggle with.

The pawn shop hadn't been doing well the past few years, and business for their mother hadn't exactly been going great either. After complaining extensively about the cost of feeding two knuckleheads who couldn't make themselves useful, Mr. Pines had gotten an idea.

This idea was to send Stan and Ford to live with their Grauntie Mabel for the summer. Somehow, he'd been conned into paying for transportation, but at least he wouldn't have to pay for food and he'd have them out of his hair.

Right before they left, Stan and Ford's father took them aside, his face as serious as ever. He held Stan by the arm tightly.

"I'm sending you to live with that crazy old lady for the summer. You'd better stay out of her hair, because I don't want to get a phone call saying you need to come back. Understand?"

Ford nodded, eyes wide.

"Sure, Pops," Stan said, earning him a glare. Or, at least, what Stan was pretty sure was a glare, considering his father was wearing a pair of shades.

"I want to hear you've been on your best behavior, because if I hear one story about you two, you'll be earning your keep the rest of the summer. And I'll make you regret you've ever been born."

Stan didn't really see the point of this declaration, as his father already talked about them earning the keep around the pawn shop. Clean this, pick up that. Little stuff, and not very hard, but there was a lot of it. And a lot of work meant lots of chances to mess up. Besides, 'I'll make you regret you've ever been born' was a common threat that only meant as much as the context.

In this case, however, the stakes were rather high, so the statement probably meant a lot.

"Yes, sir." Stan said. Ford nodded again.

Ten hours later, Stan and Ford had arrived in Gravity Falls, Oregon. All in all, Stan honestly wasn't that upset about spending a couple of months away from home. In fact, he viewed it as a magnificent opportunity. Ford, on the other hand, was freaking out.

"So," Stan said, sitting on the bed in the attic that had been assigned to him. He swung his legs, fixing the too-big striped shirt that had begun to slip down his shoulder. "What do you think?"

"This is stupid," Ford said. He still hadn't started unpacking, and was sitting on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. His brown trench coat hung around him like a security blanket and his glasses were lying on the bed next to him. Their dad had given up on buying Stan glasses after they kept breaking. "I wish we were back home."

"Oh, come on!" Stan said. "We've already searched back home for buried treasure! But I bet this place has loads. And it's our first summer away from home. I bet we'll meet loads of babes. Hey, I bet I can even get you a girlfriend, Sixer!"

"Yeah. A girlfriend. Great. I don't want a girlfriend, Stan," Ford said, giving him a look. "I want to go home. And sleep in my real bed and not an attic."

"You're being a real baby," Stan said. Why was Ford trying to ruin this? They didn't have to deal with their dad, or their dad and mom fighting, or— "Think on the bright side, Sixer. No Crampelter."

"There'll be different bullies," Ford said. He held out a six-fingered hand, as if to demonstrate the inevitability that stemmed from his…well, Stan's dad liked to call it a deformity. "And…this place just feels wrong."

"Eh, it'll be fine," Stan said. "Grauntie Mabel seems nice."

"Dad said she's crazy," Ford protested.

"Nah, just weird. Good weird."

"I'm inclined to agree with our father."

Stan laughed. "Sorry, you just sounded so…nerdy!"

"Kids!" Mabel shouted. "I need you to help me with something."

Stan sighed.

"We'd better go," Ford said.

When they got downstairs, they found Mabel waiting with a tray of cookies. They actually looked good, except for the fact that they were covered in glitter.

"Cookies!" Mabel shouted so loudly that Ford covered his ears. "Who wants one?" She set it down on the table in the kitchen with a trivet underneath. "Go on, they won't kill you. Probably."

The boys exchanged glances. Shrugging, Stan swiped a cookie off the tray, biting into it. He began coughing up glitter. Oh, well, at least the cookie tasted good.

Tentatively, Ford reached out and took a cookie, pulling it into two gooey pieces. Inside, it was full of glitter.

"Wow," Stan said, regretting his decision to eat one of his aunt's cookies.

"Fascinating," Ford said, examining it from different angles. "What temperature did you bake these at?"

"Hmm?" Mabel asked. "Oh, 350 degrees. Fahrenheit."

"And the glitter is plastic?"

"…yes? I think."

"How did it not melt?" Ford asked. "I suppose if you used some other type of glitter, but I don't think normal glitter can stand up under intense heat! But it's perfectly intact!" He showed it to Stan, a grin on his face.

Stan smiled back at his brother, internally resolving never to go near Mabel's cookies again. Melted plastic did not sound appetizing.

"I never thought of that," Mabel said. "Maybe it's a special glitter?"

"Can I borrow some of your glitter, Great Aunt Mabel?" Ford asked.

"It's Grauntie Mabel, and of course! The more glitter the better! Speaking of which, I need you two to glitterify the Jackalope—some tourists knocked it down, and it lost half of its bling."

Stan and Ford had first seen the tourist trap's exhibits when they arrived. Mostly, they were very obviously faked cryptids drenched in glitter and occasionally wearing sweaters. It was called the Mystery Shack, but the real mystery was how anyone could stand the tooth-rotting sweetness of the Puppy-Kitten-Dolphin. When Stan had seen it, he'd gagged.

He was pretty sure that he'd throw up glitter if he had to go near it again.

A week later, Stan and Ford were cleaning up yet another glitter spill. Grauntie Mabel hadn't exactly told them that they'd be working there that day, but neither twin wanted to risk getting told off for not working. Besides, it wasn't like there was much else to do. They weren't allowed in the woods and they couldn't drive into town, so there was just the closet of old board games to deal with.

Well, more accurately, Ford was cleaning up the glitter spill. Stan was close by, hiding behind a bunch of glittery pink bobbleheads of Grauntie Mabel. He'd just passed a note to a pretty girl with brown hair and a yellow and green dress. Stan was certain he had a shot with her. After all, he was confident, and ladies loved confidence. Right?

"Uh," said the girl, reading off of the list. "Do you like me? Yes? Definitely? Absolutely?"

"I rigged it!" Stan told his brother proudly.

"Do you even know her name?" Ford asked, shaking his head as he swept the last of the glitter into the dustpan.

"Uh, no, but I'll figure it out on our first date!" Stan said, just as the girl crumpled up the paper and threw it in a garbage can.

"Stan, can you please take your mind off the whole 'find babes' thing? You're acting really stupid."

"You're just jealous, Sixer," Stan protested. Ford rolled his eyes.

Stan just didn't get it. Ford was bent on ruining this vacation for the both of them. Two whole months away from home. Working in the Mystery Shack wasn't that bad, as long as Stan kept his gaze away from the horrifyingly sparkly exhibits. Less work to do, and if they messed up, Grauntie Mabel just gave them something else to do. Plus, there were tons of cute girls in Gravity Falls!

But Ford had to complain all the time. Yeah, it wasn't home. That was the point. Ford could have difficulty adjusting, fine, but a week! They'd been at the Mystery Shack for a week, and Ford still looked miserable.

"Listen, I know you want a girlfriend, but do you really need to flirt with every girl you meet?" Ford asked.

That was a stupid question. Of course, he did. How else was Stan supposed to find a girlfriend? "Look, I'll try to find a nerdy girl for you, too. Then we can have a double date!"

"I don't want a girlfriend," Ford said.

"Yeah, right. You just want to go home." Stan knew his brother was being difficult. Back at home, when he wasn't moping around, Ford always talked about how he wished girls would pay attention to him. Of course Sixer wanted a girlfriend!

"I do!" Ford said, leaning the broom up against the wall. "I've read the two books I brought, and my others are at home. I have nothing to do except work. The pillows here are all wrong, and the blankets aren't thick like the ones at home, so I can't even sleep!"

"You'll get used to it!" Stan said. "Or, I don't know, maybe Grauntie Mabel's got some different pillows lying around. Taking your nose out of a book could do you some good, you know."

"This is ridiculous," Ford disagreed. "Great Aunt Mabel just has a bunch of boring romance novels."

"Well, of course they're boring. What you need is a real, epic summer romance!" Stan insisted. "Here, I'll help you." He grabbed Ford's shoulder and pointed him towards a cute girl browsing the shelves. "What about her?"

Ford shook himself free. "Fine, if you want to go all girl crazy, go ahead. Just leave me out of it. None of them will date you anyway."

Stan raised an eyebrow. Well, that was a challenge he couldn't turn down. Now he just had to find a date by the end of the summer. Easy. "Mock me all you want, but I got a good feeling about this summer. I wouldn't be surprised if the girl of my dreams walked through that door right now."

At that exact moment, Mabel walked through the door, getting her hair stuck on a splinter in the doorframe. She tried to shake herself loose, only for a bunch of silvery glitter to fall out of her hair like dandruff.

"Ew," Stan said. Ford giggled. At least his brother was having fun.

"All right," Mabel said, finally freeing herself. "Look alive, people! That means…more glitter! I need someone to hammer up these signs in the spooky part of the forest. It's too dark and dreary there, and tourists won't know to look for our wonderful Mystery Shack."

"Not it!" Ford said immediately.

"Not it!" Stan followed. Weren't they not allowed in the forest? Oh, well, Mabel was very forgetful about what the rules actually were. Just yesterday, Stan had tricked her into thinking she'd given them permission to eat chocolate syrup on their chocolate chip pancakes. Or maybe she had? He wasn't sure, but it tasted amazing anyway.

"Also not it," said Maria calmly. Maria was the Mystery Shack's handywoman, and disturbingly calm about everything. Once, Mabel had started coughing up a pound of glitter. Maria had just smiled and said "I go get a vacuum now."

"Nobody asked you, Maria," Mabel said.

"I know," Maria said. "I am thanking God for that."

"Dan!" Mabel called out to the teenage employee who sat behind a cash register reading 'Lumberjack Weekly.' "I need you to put up these signs!"

"I am manning the cash register!" Boyish Dan shouted. Honestly, everything he said sounded like shouting. Stan found it a bit annoying. "It has man in it, so it's manly. I must not stop manning the cash register."

"Okay, he's an idiot," Stan muttered to no one in particular.

Ford glared at him. "Shut up. He's not an idiot. Two days ago, I was talking about the Odyssey around him and he had some really fascinating thoughts about it!" Stan raised his hands in surrender.

"I'd fire all of you if I could," Mabel said. "So I'll just settle for drenching you all in glitter later as payback!"

"No," Maria said. Calmly. "Not the glitter."

"All right." Mabel placed a hand on her chin, pretending to think about it. "Let's make it…eenie, meenie, miney…you." She pointed at Ford.

"But Great Aunt Mabel," Ford said. "Whenever I'm in those woods, I feel like I'm being watched."

"Ugh, this again," Stan said. "Quit being such a scaredy-cat, Sixer."

"I'm telling you, there's something weird going on in this town. Just today, my mosquito bites spelled out 'BATCH OUT FOR WILL.' Letters. That doesn't make any sense! I think it was telling me to watch out for someone named William."

"Paranoid, much?" Mabel asked. "I'm telling you, kiddo, there's nothing strange in those woods other than a couple of bears."

"Wow, I knew you were bored, but I didn't know you were this bored," Stan said. "Grauntie Mabel, have you got any good books for my nerdy brother over here?" Mabel's eyes lit up. "Not romance ones." Mabel started thinking, so Stan pulled Ford aside.

"What?" Ford hissed. "Those woods are creepy."

"Don't you remember what Dad said?" Stan asked. His brother was supposed to be the smart one, but he supposed he'd always have to be the twin that kept them both safe. Fine. Still, Ford could at least listen to him. "If we don't do what she says, then she'll call him, and we'll…have to spend the rest of the summer doing chores." And their father would be very, very upset. More upset than he ever was when Stan broke his glasses or when neither of them stood up to Crampelter. But Stan settled for chores, because he didn't want to freak out Ford too much.

"But…do you really think Great Aunt Mabel will get that upset?"

"I dunno," Stan said. "But she might, and that would be bad."

"I want to go home."

"No, you don't! I don't get it, Sixer. Grauntie Mabel hasn't gotten mad at us all week. Do you really want to break that streak? 'cos I don't. I'm gonna enjoy it while it lasts."

"Kids," Mabel said, having obviously attempted to think of a non-romance novel she owned and come up blank. "Don't get scared by all those stories about the woods. The whole 'monsters in the forest' thing is just local legend. We live on tourist traps, after all. There's no such thing as monsters."

"What about unicorns?" Ford asked. "You said it's your favorite animal."

Grauntie Mabel scratched her head. "Well, I know they're not real. Of course they're not real. Never seen a unicorn. Just don't believe what a bunch of conpeople say about the 'spoooooky woods.' Quit being so paranoid." She dumped the signs into Ford's arms. With them came a nicely sized helping of glitter. Ford sighed.

Out in the forest, the wind whipped through the trees. Ford stopped at a tree, grateful for his nice brown jacket that kept him safe from the cold. "Ugh," he said. "Nobody ever believes anything I say. Great Aunt Mabel's too busy with her glitter and stupid museum, and Stan only wants to get a date." He began to hammer a nail into a tree trunk when, to his surprise, a clang rang out through the forest. Almost like…

Almost like metal. Curiously, Ford tapped the tree with his hammer, receiving more metallic sounds. "Huh," Ford muttered. This was an interesting development. He looked at it more closely, taking off his glasses. The whole tree was covered in dust. When he wiped some away, he found a secret panel, which opened to reveal a strange contraption.

It was a mechanical box with two control switches, and looked something like a radio. Ford wished he had a notebook so that he could draw it.

Carefully, Ford twitched one of the switches on the top. Nothing happened. He twitched the other. Ford jumped as a grinding noise filled the air behind him. The nearby pig that Mabel had introduced as "Waddles—my soulmate!" let out a frightened oink and waddled away.

"Weird," Ford said, turning around to see a rectangular hole in the ground. He walked over to inspect it, finding a book inside. He pulled it out and wiped the dust and cobwebs off with his coat. It had a blue cover, and the front was decorated with a gold leaf pine tree. In the center of the symbol was a '3'.

Ford considered the book. He'd found it in the creepy woods; for all he knew, it was cursed and anyone who opened it would die. But if he was going to die, he'd at least make it in the pursuit of knowledge. And besides, he was just overreacting. Whoever had hidden it here probably was just playing a joke or something.

He flipped the book open, finding an eyeglass, which he placed on the ground. Another page had some actual information. Ford began to read it aloud, but he felt odd speaking alone in the forest. Like he was an intruder announcing his presence. Shivering, Ford resolved to just speak inside his head.

It's hard to believe that it has been six years since I moved to Gravity Falls Oregon. In my time here, I have encountered many strange and wonderful secrets. This town is unique, and the perfect place for studying the paranormal.

Ford's eyes nearly popped out of his head. The paranormal. He looked down at a six-fingered hand. He'd always been obsessed with the weird, the strange, the unexplained. The freakish. After all, he was an anomaly himself. And now this journal was telling him that there were other anomalies, far stranger than him. The paranormal.

Ford didn't believe in things like UFOs and ghosts. There simply wasn't any scientific evidence, and 'I want this to be true' didn't count. But…

But if whoever wrote this had uncovered evidence…

Ford flipped to another page, which read 'TRUST NO ONE.' Frowning, he read that section.

Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm running out of time, a scarce commodity that forever steals away my chance at succeeding. I must hide this journal before I disappear, somewhere no one can find it and use my research for ill. They are all watching me. Remember: In Gravity Falls, everyone is out for themselves. And everyone has a price. TRUST NO ONE.

"Everyone has a price," Ford read. That was something people said in movies. Everyone has something that they'll do anything for.

"Hello!" Something screamed.

"Ah!" Ford yelped, falling over backwards and getting stuck in the shallow hole that had held the journal.

"What're you reading?" Stan asked. "Some nerd thing?"

Ford hid the journal behind his back. "Uh, uh, it's nothing!" He didn't know why, but he just didn't want Stan to see this. He'd found it. It was his secret. His and no one else's.

"Uh, uh, it's nothing," Stan imitated. "C'mon, you're actually not gonna show me?"

Ford turned around to see Waddles the pig sniffing at the journal.

"Uh…" He said. Well, he'd had a secret from his brother for about five seconds. That had to be some sort of record. Maybe next time, he'd have one that lasted six. "Let's go somewhere a little more private."

Ten minutes later, the twins sat in the living room. Ford flipped through the journal while Stan perched on the arm of one of the chairs.

"It's amazing," Ford was saying. "According to this journal, the paranormal is real! Gravity Falls is filled with anomalies that we can investigate." He turned a page. "Eye bats, a shapeshifter, a Gremlobin—what even is that? And ghosts. I bet aliens are real!"

"Whoah, Sixer, slow down," Stan said. "You're excited, but you're really gonna believe some stupid journal?" He peered over at what Ford was reading. "It doesn't even have photographs!"

"Well," Ford said. "Look at this. These mosquitoes have bites that form badly-spelled warnings. The author got one that said 'BEWARB,' which was obviously telling him to beware. I'm supposed to 'BATCH OUT FOR WILL.' Remember?"

"Uh…" Stan said.

"And look," Ford said. "After a certain point, the pages stop. The guy who was writing it hid the journal because he knew he was going to disappear! Stan, don't you see? There are other anomalies, just like me!" His eyes shone as he showed the journal to his brother.

"You've got that podaty thing, right?" Stan asked. "There are others like you out there."

"Polydactyly," Ford corrected. He didn't understand how his brother could just forget the name of the thing that meant he'd been bullied his entire life. "And my sixth finger is fully functioning. That's super rare. Besides, there's ghosts! Real ghosts in Gravity Falls! Why can't you get it? We could research this all. Everyone would have to take us seriously if we published our findings. We could change the world! We'd be fa—" The doorbell rung, interrupting him. "Who's that?"

"Well, Sixer, while you were finding books in the woods, I found a friend!"

"Not a girlfriend," Ford clarified, narrowing his eyes.

"Still working on that," Stan admitted. The doorbell rang twice. "Coming!"

"Hey, Ford, what're you reading?" Mabel asked, entering the room.

Quickly, Ford stowed the book in his jacket and grabbed a magazine from the table. "I was just catching up on the…Friendship Bracelets for Oldsters magazine?" How did that magazine even pay for the printing costs?

"That's a great issue!" Mabel said. "Ooh, did you see the fishtail bracelet? I know, let's make fishtail bracelets for the entire family. We can do that next family bonding night."

"Uh…" Ford said. Last family bonding night had ended with them in jail for vandalism (Mabel had painted a car pink and glitterfied it) and counterfeiting money (Mabel Money was not, apparently, accepted in Gravity Falls). Luckily, Mabel had talked them out of charges. The police were idiots. "I'm gonna go talk to my brother!"

He placed the magazine on the table and ran into the gift shop. Next to Stan was a guy with a black hoodie and pale skin. His face had something red on it that looked like blood. Even Ford could tell that something was definitely off about him.

"Hey, guys!" Stan announced. "Say hello to my new friend!"

"'sup?" The guy asked.

"Hey…" Ford trailed off, looking at Stan. His brother was grinning proudly.

"Hello!" Mabel said cheerfully.

"We met at the cemetery," Stan said. "He's really cool. He loves buried treasure too! We're going to dig up some treasure in the woods. Wanna come hang out with us, Sixer?"

"Sixer?" The guy asked Stan.

Ford hid his hands, embarrassed. He didn't like Stan's new friend, and he didn't want to get made fun of for his…deformity.

"It's a nickname," Stan said. "He's got six fingers, see?"

"Stan!" Ford said. His brother shouldn't have said that; now the guy would make fun of Ford. Stan knew Ford didn't like people talking about his hands, and he did it anyway. Ford took a deep breath and pulled his hands out of his pockets. The guy didn't say anything. "What's your name?"

"Uh," he said, as if trying to remember. "Normal…MAN!"

Ford winced. That sounded…that sounded like a very specific denial of weirdness. 'Normal…MAN' hadn't flinched when he saw Ford's hands. Everyone flinched except Stan, and that was only because he was used to them.

"He means Norman," Stan said.

"Are you bleeding, Norman?" Ford asked.

"It's…jam," Norman said, wiping away the very suspicious red substance on his face.

"So, you wanna go dig up buried treasure or whatever?" Norman asked.

"You bet!" Stan said. "Ford, wanna come with us?"

"No." Ford said. "I'll, uh, read." He'd be reading the journal, consulting it to determine what was wrong with Norman. If Stan was the brawns, Ford was the brains, and they had to keep each other from getting hurt.

"Your loss," Stan shrugged, running out the door. Norman followed, banging into the wall several times on his way out.

Later, Ford sat up in the attic, flipping through the pages of the journal. He found a page that looked promising, propping himself up on his elbows to read. "Known for their pale skin and bad attitudes, these creatures are often mistaken for…teenagers! Beware Gravity Falls' nefarious…zombie!" Ford rushed to the window to see Norman and Stan holding shovels and talking. They were covered in dirt from digging. Stan was grinning, while Norman had the same dull expression as always.

"You're a great friend!" Stan said. Norman walked towards Stan with his arms outstretched.

"Oh, no!" Ford said. "Stan, watch out!"

Norman groaned, placing his hands on Stan's head.

"He's going to eat your brains!" Ford screamed.

Norman stepped back, revealing a pirate hat. Stan adjusted it, smiling.

"Wow," Stan said. "This is so cool!"

"Oh," Ford said, sitting down on his bed and resting his chin on his hands. He really was being paranoid. Maybe deep down, he just didn't want his brother to have any friends. 'You're just jealous,' Stan had said. And he had told Ford that he could come along with them. "Did my brother actually make friends with a zombie, or am I just that lonely?" He asked the air.

"It is a dilemma, to be sure," said a voice. Ford gasped, looking up to see Maria, the shack's handywoman, screwing in a lightbulb. "I heard you talking aloud in an empty room and I went to see what you are speaking."

Ford sighed. "Maria, you've seen Stan's new best friend. He's gotta be a zombie, right?"

"Hmm. Did you see him devour any brains?" Maria said thoughtfully.

Ford looked down at the journal and sighed. "Zero. Well, I think I saw him accidentally swallow a fly, so maybe an eighth?"

"I believe you, Ford," Maria said. "I always notice weird stuff here, but I do not let it phase me. Like the mailman. He is most definitely a werewolf. But you must just ignore it, or no one will ever change the lightbulbs."

Ford shook his head. "I can't just ignore it!" He said. "If I can uncover proof of the paranormal, I'll be able to publish an actual paper on it, and get into a really good college, and investigate anomalies. And get, like, twelve PhDs." He paused, looking back out the window. Stan was still grinning. He looked so happy. "And Stan could be in danger. No, what I need is evidence. Otherwise, people will think I'm just a…a freak with delusions of grandeur." That sounded fancy. Ford wasn't quite sure what 'grandeur' meant, but he'd read it in his books and he figured the expression meant he thought he was a lot better than he actually was.

"You can do that also," Maria said.

"Maria!" Mabel called from downstairs. "The portable toilets are clogged again!"

"I am needed elsewhere," Maria said, walking out of the room backwards.

Ford sighed. His brother was having more fun with a literal zombie than he did with him. And…and it was Ford's fault, for being such a pessimist this entire week.

But Ford couldn't help it. He hated the Mystery Shack. Mabel was confusing. She was too glittery and smiled too much. Anyone who smiled that much wanted something, and Ford was surprised Stan couldn't see through it. Like the journal said, no one did something unless they were to gain from it. Not unless they were idiots, and Great Aunt Mabel seemed to have a certain sort of intelligence.

She was hiding something. And Ford couldn't figure out what it was, because he didn't know what would happen if he got on her bad side. At least Dad was very clear about where they stood. Ford and Stan earned their keep. Ford did well in school, and one day he'd earn tons of money for the family. And Stan made sure Ford didn't get his brain damaged by bullies.

But Mabel? She didn't say she wanted anything except a little help around the house. They'd eaten her food for a week, and certainly hadn't paid anywhere close to that back. And she was too nice.

Plus, Ford could barely sleep. He hadn't been lying to Stanley; the weird covers and pillows kept him up for hours.

"Hey, Sixer!" Ford felt something jostle him from his thoughts, looking up to see Stan's hand on his shoulder. "I've been trying to get your attention for forever."

"Yeah?" Ford asked.

"Norman said he knows a neat part of the forest where he thinks there's buried treasure. We're gonna dig it up in 30 minutes. So d'you wanna sit around all day reading your boring nerd book, or come and find treasure?"

Ford sighed. If Ford let his brother go off with Norman alone, he might very well end up an only child. And no one was allowed to eat Stan's brains. But he could at least try to convince Stan one more time.

"Look, can't you see something is off with that guy?" Ford asked.

"Stop it!" Stan said. "I've got a friend and you don't have to ruin it. You think I wouldn't notice if something was wrong with him but you would? Sixer, you're so gullible a pelican could trick you."

"You're being mean," Ford said. Why was Stan acting like this? Couldn't he at just listen to Ford?

Stan sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry, Ford. But…please. I made a real friend. And I know you're trying to help, but I can handle this."

"But I think he's one of the things the journal warned us about!" Ford opened the journal and shoved it in Stan's face.

Stan squinted at the page in disbelief. "You think he's a gnome?"

"What?" Ford asked, looking for himself. Sure enough, the page held a picture of a small creature. It looked kind of cute, actually, but the 'weaknesses: unknown' suggested it wasn't as benevolent as it seemed. "No! I meant, here." He turned to a page titled 'The Undead.'

"A zombie? C'mon, Sixer, that's not funny. We're talking about buried treasure, not your crazy conspiracy theories."

"They're not crazy!" Ford protested.

Stan grabbed the journal and flipped through it. "Portal potties? Manotaurs?"

"Give it back!" Ford said, snatching it away and placing it on his bed.

"You coming or not?" Stan asked. "I found a friend for both of us, Sixer. It'll be lonely without my nerdy bro. We can even bring those walkie-talkies we packed!"

Ford looked at Stan. He was smiling in an almost pleading manner. Stan really thought that Norman was safe. And…well, Ford wasn't convinced, but Stan did have the better people-judgement of the two. "Fine. Let me get my boots."

After hiking in the woods for a while, the group stopped at a patch of dirt where the grass wasn't growing. "So," Ford said to Norman as Stan was comparing the different shovels to decide which one to take. "Your name's Normal Man, is it?"

"Norman," Norman groaned.

"And you're what, how old?" Ford asked.

"Thirteen."

Ford looked at Norman critically. There was no way this guy was thirteen. Also, it looked like he had a twig sticking out of his forehead. "I don't think I ever actually introduced myself," he said. "Stanford Pines. Are you a zombie?"

"Sixer!" Stan admonished. "I've finally found a friend—a friend for both of us—and you ask him if he's a zombie!"

Ford pushed his glasses up on his nose. "It's a legitimate question."

"No." Norman said. "I am…not a zombie. You are…funny."

"Uh, good?"

"Hey, we dropped the treasure bag," Stan said.

"Sixer, you get it. We…left it at the house."

Ford looked at Norman. Norman looked at Ford.

Nobody called Ford Sixer except for Stan.

"It's Ford," Ford said, glaring.

"I'll go," Stan said. "Just don't start digging without me! Oh, here." He passed Ford one of the cheap walkie-talkies they'd bought at Glass Shard Beach.

Ford watched Stan leave, wondering why he'd just wander off if he was so excited about his new friend. Maybe he thought leaving Ford alone with Norman would convince him that the teenager wasn't a zombie.

"Why…don't you…trust me?" Norman asked, making a gesture with one hand. It fell off, dropping to the forest floor.

Ford scrambled back. That…confirmed it. He was in the presence of a real, live zombie.

"Uh…this is…normal?" Norman said. It sounded more like a question.

"No, it's not!" Ford yelled. "Stan! Stan! He's actually really a zombie!"

"Be quiet!" Norman ordered. His voice sounded different, now that he wasn't speaking slowly and gravelly. Much less like a zombie. "I can show you I'm not a zombie, if you just stop yapping!"

"Alright," Ford said. He hoped Stan had heard him. Ford wasn't exactly the best runner, but he could probably run faster than the undead.

"Just don't freak out, okay? Just keep an open mind, be cool about this!" Slowly, Norman pulled down the zipper of his hoodie and threw it off, revealing five little men standing on top of each other's hats.

Ford's eyes widened. "You're…gnomes? Do you all wear the same clothing? Is there a gnome uniform or something? How are you actually standing on each other's heads without hurting anyone? Can you do magic? What does your diet consist of? What the heck were you planning to do with my brother?"

"I'm Jeff," the gnome on top said cheerfully. "And here we have Carson, Steve, Jason, and…I'm sorry, I always forget your name."

"Shmebulock," groaned a gnome with a grey beard and eyes pointing in the wrong directions.

"Shmebulock," Jeff said, snapping his fingers. "Yes! Anyways, long story short, us gnomes have been looking for an offering for our queen. Right, guys?"

"Queen, queen, queen!" The other gnomes chanted.

"Heh," Jeff chuckled. "So, what do you say? Do you want to come back to our magical home and be sacrificed in a ritual to our queen?"

"No!" Ford shouted, backing away. "I, uh, don't want to be sacrificed. Why would you think I'd want to be sacrificed?"

Jeff considered this. "Any of us would gladly sacrifice our lives for our queen!"

"Well," Ford said. "Uh, good for you? But I don't want do die. So, begone!"

"We understand," Jeff said sadly. "We'll never forget you, Sixer."

"Ford," Ford corrected. "And I'll, uh, never forget you either. In fact, I'll write a paper on the gnomes of Gravity Falls and then find a scientific journal to publish it in. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll ever figure out what's under your hats."

Jeff blinked at him, nonplussed, before turning back to the matter at hand. "Well, we'll never forget you. Because we're going to kidnap you!"

"What?" Ford asked.

"Get him!" Jeff yelled, jumping at Ford.

Ford pushed him away and kicked at one of the other gnomes. They were small. Ford wasn't that good at fighting, but surely he could take them. Just to be certain, though…

Quickly, Ford took the walkie-talkie out of his trench coat and turned it on. "Stan, I need some backup here. Norman is—"

Suddenly, several other gnomes jumped out of the bushes, attacking Ford in a swarm of red hats. The walkie-talkie fell to the ground, talk button pressed into the ground.

Ford screamed.

OCPUSS QOE SEEF VZE MLA ZVESZAG WDOX GVV ADJFGVK, A XNBFFAFE PFK HP SCLZD, LAR YUS XBHYQR.

Ugh, characterization. My arch-nemesis. I think Ford seems too immature and Stan seems too mean, but let me know what you think! See you next chapter!