Late fall 1983
Stan is late. Why is he late? He's never late.
Ford was passing up and down their driveway, waiting for his twin. It was uncharacteristic of him to come back home late at night. Granted, Ford wasn't their mother and Stan was free to do as he pleased in his free time. Only he had never done that in past years, that had just started recently. It worried him.
Is he thinking about leaving…
The griffin shook his head and chased that thought away. His brother was not going to leave him. Not after his hard work. It was Stan that had managed to get the house to a proper state. Stan's the one who got a job working at the Corduroy's lumber mill and brought back electricity and heated water. Ford put his notes in order and stayed at the house. He dusted and did small tasks - his tail feathers worked wonders as a dust buster - but there wasn't much he could do without opposable thumbs.
He sighed and glanced around to see where his paws had taken him. He was now at the edge of their clearing. He shuddered at the dark forest stretching before him.
He dared not venture too far into the woods or close to the main road alone, so he kept close to their house and the edge of the clearing. Even in this form he didn't want to stumble upon anything roaming the forest at night. He might be used to this body, to a certain extent, but he didn't want to try to fend for himself. He was clumsy enough walking around the house, he didn't need to see how he would fare in a fight against… anything. He shuddered at the thought and resumed his pacing with his head low. He glanced at the woods worriedly.
There was another reason he didn't dare go into them… alone.
He wasn't scared of the woods per say… he was more scared of himself. He wasn't sure what had happened earlier that fall when Stan and him had gone searching for his journal near the cliffs. He recalled standing in a clearing trying to remember where he had tried to climb and then he had heard a twig snapped behind him. The next thing he knew, he had his head stuck into some bush, his brother was calling for him and it had started to rain. He had felt so confused and lost, he hoped his twin didn't notice anything. The other time it happened, when they were in the basement, was bound to have been noticed by Stan.
Stanford returned to the house, sat down in and curled his tail around his legs to think for a moment, the tip of it twitching as he concentrated on his thoughts.
His memory had been blurry around those events. He couldn't recall how he had gotten there in both cases but as time went by, some images did come up to him. He could see himself stalking a deer in the forest before leaping at it and landing face first into the bush behind it. He had missed the deer by a mile. Next, in the basement, he later recalled standing up and walking over his paper up to his twin's back. He had been feeling strongly curious. He didn't understand why. It was his brother there was nothing curious about him. Sure, his whereabouts for the past seven odd years were a mystery but it wasn't what had driven him to walk up to him. He had found his twin to be a curious creature in this situation.
As if I've never seen something like him before…
He growled to himself, making his tail twitch even more. He didn't like that. In both instances he had acted more animalistic than usual. Sure, he had adopted some small ticks here and there because of his new anatomy but this was on a whole level.
Over the years he had adopted some behavior he couldn't avoid or ignore. If he was feeling itchy, especially behind the ears, he had to use his hind legs. Stan had pointed out that he stretched just as any cat but it was the only way he felt comfortable and well stretched in the morning! He obviously couldn't use any utensils to eat and had to just swallow his raw meat whole, barely chewing it. He curled into a ball at night in his parlor to sleep. Plus there was the fact that every time his brother would pet or more specifically scratch him an uncontrollable purr would erupt from his throat. All these were nothing compared to what happened in the forest and the basement. He frowned.
Stan had told him not to worry about it. That he must have been in the clouds or spaced out for a moment. He had shrugged it off as a one time event and moved on. Ford had to concede that he didn't remember experiencing any more of those things in a while after that.
Maybe it was just a one time thing and I'm overthinking it...
The griffin's ears stirred up when he caught the sound of a car engine rolling down the driveway. He turned his head to see two headlights coming towards him. He perked up as he recognized the sound of the StanleyMobile's engine. His brother was finally back! He stood up and walked up to the car, escorting it back to the house.
He froze when he realized what he had just done. He had just been happy to see his brother coming home, not that he doubted he would have never come back, leaving him here alone. He looked back toward the entrance of the clearing. He felt stupid to have greeted his twin just as a dog would greet its owner.
Stan didn't seem to have noticed what he had just done or if he did he didn't make any comments about it.
"Evening, Sixer." His brother said while yawning loudly and exiting his car. "I'm surprised ta see you up this late… Thought you'd be asleep by now. No wait, that's right, yer now a real night owl."
Ford just huffed. If he could, he would ask his brother the same thing. He opted to instead block his path by jumping ahead of him and landing on the back porch in front of the door. He planted his rear firmly before the door and stared down at his brother.
"What's going on here?" Stan asked while walking up the two stairs. He tried to worm his way around him but Ford just backed closer to the door. "Ford, I'm tired, it's past midnight and I have work at the lumber mill tomorrow. I wanna go ta bed." He tried pushing him away.
If there was one thing he did kind of enjoy in this new form, is that he wasn't pushed around easily. He wasn't sure how much he weighed - part of him didn't want to find out - but Stan couldn't move him as easily as before. That's why his small shove had… Ford stopped his thought before it got any further. It was in the past, Stan had healed and he wasn't going to use his wings any time soon. That's not what the issue was about tonight.
He looked on his right to see his twin still trying to make him move by pushing him. He shook his head, reached over his twin's jacket and grabbed it with his beak. Once he had a firm grip, Ford raised his head, lifting Stan off the ground with little trouble. His brother yelped in surprise but didn't try to free himself.
Ford let go of Stan in front of him and frowned. His brother glared back and crossed his arms over his chest. They stared at each other before Stan gave in and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"What is it?" His brother asked with a sigh.
The griffin rolled his head. He closed his eyes for a moment thinking how he was going to ask his twin why he was late.
"Hoo Roo Ooo?" He said looking alternatively at his twin and his car. Stan followed his gaze and groaned.
"What? I… I went for a ride after work and I lost track of time. I fell asleep on the backseat." He said while avoiding Stanford's gaze. He absentmindedly played with his jacket, specifically near his right wrist.
Ford wasn't sure he liked that answer. The way his brother could casually fall asleep on the back seat of his car worried him. He looked his brother up and realized that none of his clothes seemed to be torn. They were all in good condition. Odd if he had been sleeping in them. He didn't know why but he knew his twin was lying to him. He frowned, lowered his head to be eye level with Stan and growled softly.
It did the trick. Stan's eyes met his and he sighed in defeat, his arms hanging low on his sides.
"Fine. I didn't go on a car ride and fell asleep on the backseat. After work, the Corduroy's invited me for some drinks since it's been a good year. I lost track of time. Sorry I came back so late." He blurred out.
Stanford looked intensely at Stan before chirping loudly. He sidestepped out of the way and his brother opened the door, letting both of them in. As his twin closed the door, he raised an eyebrow and smiled at him.
"Did ya get locked out of the house? Again?" He said with a wicked grin.
The griffin puffed up his feathers and strode fast to his room, not before giving Stan a slight clip behind the ear with his tail.
He heard his twin laugh loudly as he walked up the stairs to his bedroom.
Winter 1984
The griffin woke up when the first few rays of sunshine creeped through his window, seeping deep into his bones. It felt good. He yawned wildly and shook his head before uncurling from his spot on the floor. His head felt all groggy, foggy and for once almost empty. It was peacefully comfortable. A nice way to start the day.
Sixer stretched his front legs before him, extending each of his digits as wide as he could and raised his hind legs. His tail curled above his back and he extended his wings as far as he could. It felt good.
Once done, he sat on his hind legs and looked at his left open wing. He noticed how most of the barbules of his flight feathers were all unhooked, he glanced at the rest of his body to see that most of his feathers weren't in a better state.
Got to clean!
He huffed and decided to get to work, using his beak to realign the unhooked barbs and restore the feathers to their peak conditions.
The whole thing took almost an hour, in which the griffin preened all of his feathers. Sixer was now moving on to his tail, looking for a small gland he was certain he had but never bothered to use, or search for that matter. Why would he? His brother would provide him with some bath once in a while and it was enough.
This morning though, he had felt a strong urge to do it properly for once. It just seemed like the right thing to do. He bent backward and proceeded to the last step, coating his body with a protective oil from a specific gland near his tail feathers.
He found the gland and squeezed it with his beak releasing a thin oily liquid. He then proceeded to cover his entire feather coat in it, giving his plumage a nice finishing look. He felt proud of the result.
The griffin was just about to do the finishing touch, when he caught the sound of his brother's footsteps in the stairs. The wood planks creaking under his weight. It brought him back to the present and he blinked a couple of times. His thoughts became suddenly crystal clear and Stanford realized what he had been doing. He raised his head and stood in shock, his breathing picking up.
What… What was I doing!
He was sitting but not upright. He was bent backward and had the feather of his tail, the big large one, in his beak. He wasn't biting down on it, just carefully holding it in. He opened his mouth to let go of the feather and his tail flumped to the ground. He took a closer look at himself and was really aware of what he had just done.
He had completely cleaned his feathers by himself for the first time in two years. He had done it in the same fashion birds and owls do it. He could feel the oily liquid his brain had known he would find near his tail feathers around his beak. He raised a paw and swiftly removed it. A chilling realization crashed down on him. He had done all of this without any consideration for his dignity. Only acting on instinct. Pure animal instincts.
He felt panic creep up inside him. He wasn't so sure those were one time things anymore. This was the third time he found himself spacing out and being lost in the moment. Not acting like himself…
It scared him. Scared him to his core. He gulped worriedly.
Am I becoming... feral?
He took deep breaths to calm his nerves. There was no point in having a panic attack this early.
Once he relaxed enough and his brain wasn't just a buzzing mess of swirling panicking thoughts, Ford laid back on his makeshift bed, blankets and pillows scattered on the floor of his parlor, and rested his head on his paws to think for a moment. His eyebrows knitted together in a worried frown.
It was the logical conclusion he could come up with. He was, maybe, becoming feral. It would explain the two events he had trouble remembering and the attitude he had adopted during those. From what he could recall, he was still pretty much the same, he just felt really simple minded, curious and… Happy? This was interesting but also concerning. Would he think Stan was a threat to him if he failed to recognize him in those moments? IF it ever re-occurred again.
His eyes opened wide as a cold hypothesis struck him: What if the longer this goes on, the wilder he would get? What would be the consequences? He shuddered. He knew what the consequences were. They had already started. Three times already. He sighed and swiped a clawed paw over his face.
Now the question was, what was he going to do with this new development? He didn't want to go back to mopping or spend days on end without moving. This wouldn't help. Maybe he should let Stan know about his worries, and open up more. He growled.
His brother's schedule seemed to be pretty full already. Every moment he wasn't at the lumber mill, he was bent over the desk in the basement reading and re-reading his notes or trying to put together a device that would turn him back. He was also coming home late on most nights during the week, claiming he had been drinking with the Corduroy's or reading some book at the library to help him understand some of Ford's more complex notes. He had brought copious notes back from those trips and the griffin couldn't help but be impressed by Stan's dedication.
Ford kept helping him and explained as best as he could some of the things that his twin didn't really understand but it was a tedious task with his limited vocabulary. Stan had transcribed some of his complex equations on bigger ones. It was primitive but effective. It definitely made communication easier between the two. They were still limited and constrained to his liking but he made do. It was still a guessing game sometimes with Stan. Would he be able to express his concerns with his cards? Should he plague his brother with this? On top of everything?
They were both way over their heads, adding the threat that he might become feral would just worry him more. He would blame himself, saying that's because he's not good enough and would just double his time downstairs. Work himself until he would pass out from exhaustion. Some nights he was even coming very late and would just go back to the basement the next morning. No, it wasn't worth risking Stan's health. He wouldn't risk it for just a hypothesis. He would be patient with his twin and not rush him.
It's not like it happens every day. It might just be a phase, maybe it'll wear off…
Ford was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't realize Stan was standing in the doorway looking him over. Stanford raised an eyebrow at his brother.
"Morning Sixer. What are ya thinking so hard this early?" Stan asked while crossing his arms over his chest.
Stanford eyed him.
Stan was wearing a white tank top, blue striped boxers and some slippers. The typical evening attire he wore almost every night. Despite the steady incomes he was making, his twin barely bought any new clothes. He kept wearing well used clothes, although albeit clean ones. They were decent enough, but Ford wished his brother would pick better clothes for himself and took better care of himself.
Ford took a deep breath. "Wroo..." He sighed and glanced to the side. So much was on his mind. The day had started on such a bright note until he came back to his senses. Now he just felt miserable and was fighting with himself to not whine loudly. He remained on his bed.
I won't say a thing… He doesn't need to know… It's just a one time thing. I'm still me! It probably won't happen again. Plus it's not like it happens everyday...Yet...
"Well, take your time… It's okay. S'not like we had anything different planned for a Saturday..." He added.
He felt Stan sit next to him, pressing his back against his side. He stretched his arm over Ford's neck and stroked some of his feathers absentmindedly. Ford didn't remember either of them ever being this touchy. The contact just seemed unnecessary to him for a long time. Plus, the way their father had basically drilled in their minds that men don't show affection hadn't helped either. But the way Stan would use him as a pillow sometimes, falling asleep while looking at the stars or watching tv felt… reassuring. The presence would soothe him and make his worry disappear.
Is this because of my predicament? Or just because I've been craving human contact unconsciously over the years?
He was pondering over that last thought when his twin went limp against him. He had stopped petting him just a moment before. Worried, Stanford raised his head to see Stan had fallen back to sleep against his side, snoring peacefully. The griffin smiled at the sight. He turned his head to look at the clock on his wall. It was barely over six thirty. His twin never woke up this early.
Stanford rested his head back on his front paws and made sure to turn it towards his brother. He wrapped his tail around him and Stan, the tip of his tail feather barely touching his beak. In doing so he drew his twin closer to him. He wasn't sure why but he wanted to be close to Stan. He closed his eyes and followed his brother soon into the land of peaceful slumber.
As the sun rose on the horizon, both brothers stayed next to each other and slept until way past noon.
Spring 1984
Ford was dumbfounded.
He kept staring at the letter resting on the kitchen table and couldn't make heads or tails of what he was reading.
It was addressed to him that much was obvious with the letterhead, but he never attended this school and hadn't written to anyone in… forever!
He re-read the letter for the tenth time.
"Dear mr Stanford Pines,
As requested, here is your report card for the winter semester of 1982. You'll find in the following pages instructions to follow, if you wish to continue to learn with us at Quentin Tremblay University
Looking forward to hearing from you."
His tail twitched in irritation. He didn't understand where this letter was coming from.
He never heard of that school and never attended it. Why did it send a report card, with passable grades, to his house? It must have been an administrative error. Someone might have stolen his identity to get into this school on a nice scholarship. Who would do that? The only one who could do it was…
Oh… oh...
The griffin's eyes opened wide as the pieces started to come together.
Stan came home late during the past months. He always claimed he did overtime because there was extra work at the lumber mill. Saying Dan gave him more responsibility and it came with extra hours. Ford hadn't doubted his twin. Why would he? Stan was giving his all to bring enough money to maintain the house and feed them both. Even when he came home late, he would spend an hour or two in the basement trying to find a solution to his problem.
At first he tried to piece together a new molecular analysis machine but after a few years he gave up and came home with a mass spectrometer instead. He had claimed to have found it near the scrap yard. Stanford had believed him. Even after Stan had started writing complex equations and notes about DNA and energy conversion.
Ford frowned as he recalled some of the equations his brother would write down. Those were complex and detailed, even for him.
They weren't machine related. They were notes about genes and genetics. His own studies had been focused more on quantum and theoretical advance physics, he only grazed biology. Yet, the earliest notes he could recall some of Stan's early notes about Mendel's laws of heredity popping here and there but he had scratched and discarded them as irrelevant from the glimpses Ford could make when he tried to peek over Stan's shoulders. His twin was very secretive with his notes, to the griffin's annoyance.
He wanted to help in any way possible but he felt lost. Other notes were about DNA and what useful information he could use. The double helix was always next to it with nucleotides. It was still all at an early stage but even Ford had to admit he wasn't sure he understood everything. Stanley had written about genetic codes and the information contained in cells. His field of study had been more towards theoretical advanced physics. He never really got into genetics. What was his twin up too?
The griffin stood still. Memories making their way to the forefront of his mind.
One morning, Stan had searched the whole house for all the loose strands of hair he could find on some of Ford's old clothes. He would carefully pick and put them in a plastic bag. Stan had added Ford's old hair brush later. He claimed they were keepsake and might come in handy later on. Another thing Stan was doing without giving him much details.
Ford wanted explanation, after years of secrets he deserved it. He wasn't sure how he should approach it. He could always shove the letter in Stan's face. His twin couldn't ignore that but he might still deflect it or render it irrelevant and unimportant. Stanford didn't want that. He wanted to understand what was going on with his twin.
I guess there's only one way to find out...
After debating with himself for some time, Ford decided that he would get answers one way or another. Taking the letter in his beak from the kitchen table where he found it, he dashed to the back door… and came to a stop when he found it closed shut. He snarled angrily. Of course it was!
Stan had left earlier this morning and closed it behind him. He claimed he had some work to do at the lumber mill. At the time, they both had agreed that Stan should lock the doors since the house was supposed to be inhabited and the griffin had manifested the desire to do some cleaning and order into some of his books.
Ford growled. It seemed like a good way to spend his saturday. He hadn't planned on being stuck inside the house with the intention of going out, or to stumble upon the letter. Why wasn't his twin telling him anything? Did he go back to school? Was he going back to school? Has he already been back? From the letter and results it seemed as much… But then why didn't he say anything to him? He shook his head.
He was getting out of the house, one way or another to shine lights on what had been going on for the past years.
He released his beak by tucking the letter between the feathers of his chest. He wrestled with the door knob for a couple of minutes before giving up and ripping it off completely. Not caring about the hole he had just created, Ford tossed the knob to the side and pushed the door open with his paws. He leaped outside and circled their house to run up their driveway toward the main road, leaving little dust clouds behind him.
I'm coming for you Stanley!
When he began to see the outline of the paved road, he lowered himself to the ground and jumped into the bushes to avoid being spotted. He followed the road toward the Corduroy's lumber mill, ignoring every cell in his body either telling him to go back to the house where he was safe and hidden or to explore and follow all the different sounds around him. He tried his best to tuck his ears close to his head and ignore everything around him. He had an objective and would not stray from it.
As he crawled through the woods, he realized that it was the first time, in two years, he ever got this far away from the house alone. No wonder he was feeling excited about every little thing. Part of him wondered if it was because he had cooped himself in the house or because some instinct was telling him to explore and hunt. He hoped it was the ladder. He didn't want to find out if he was capable of hunting deers or other critters. He shook his head to clear those thoughts, he didn't need to think about that at the moment. He needed to focus on what he would do when he saw his twin.
I got the letter with me, he can't deny that!
If Stan really was at the lumber mill doing extra work like he claimed, Ford would place himself by the window. Even if he wasn't lying about his whereabouts today, he needed to explain where the report card and letter came from. If Stan wasn't at the lumber mill…
The griffin wasn't sure what he would do. He didn't want to go back to the house without knowing where his twin was. He sighed. Even if he wasn't thrilled about it, he guessed he would search him to the utmost of his capacity. Avoiding crowded places and downtown. So he would be looking for his twin from the town's outskirts. Fortunately, his sight was spectacular. He could see even better than before. So despite staying outside of the town's boundaries, he would still be able to see clearly. Maybe he could climb the cliff to have a bird eye view of the town. He rolled his head.
Stan isn't the only one making bird jokes anymore.
He spotted a particularly large log on his path and braced himself to jump over it. He landed on top and pushed off aiming to land on the ground. Yet Ford's wings unwinded automatically. He felt the extra muscles he had acquired stretched and flex. His wings expended out on each side, extending to almost nine, maybe ten feet. He should ask Stan to measure them one day. They flapped and he felt his whole form lifting up instead of plummeting towards the ground as he intended. He was gliding. His heart leaped into his throat. Ford panicked and immediately lost his balance and momentum. He lifted his front paws to cushion his fall but still ended up crashing head first on the forest floor.
Graceful Stanford, real smooth...
His limbs were sprawled all around him in an uncoordinated heap. He grumbled and coughed the dirt he had accidentally swallowed in his fall. He swiped his paw over his face to get some of it off, specifically on his tongue. This thing was always dry and raspy. Anything he would swallow would stick to it and no amount of water would get it hydrated. He growled and stuck it out to get the dirt off. He gave up and resigned himself to taste dust and iron in his mouth for a while.
Ford still felt conscious about his mishaps and hoped nothing saw him. He stood back up and glanced around. He had created an impressive crater. He shook himself to dislodge any remaining dirt stuck to him and tucked his wings close to his sides. He made sure the letter was safely tucked away before he resumed his strides. He had already wasted enough time.
Stupid wings.
He resumed his run to the lumber mill but the incident stayed with him. When he had leaped over the log, Ford hadn't expected his body, especially his wings, to react this way. He was used to walking on all four and had managed to get some control over his tail. Just thinking about it made him grunt and he felt it swayed behind him. His wings were still off limits to him. For once, they were attached to muscles and bones he never had before.
He had a grasp as to how they moved and functioned. They were just an extra set of arms on his back. The way they moved was just like his arms used to but whenever he thought of his arms it's his front leg he would move. He was clumsy with his wings. But when he had leaped, they seemed to know what to do as opposed to his mind. Maybe that was the problem with them or with the rest of his limbs.
He was always fighting with his body, even after two years being turned. But if he let go, would it make him go feral in the process. He could feel a headache starting behind his eyes. Ford humphed.
This is not the time.
He stopped and scrunched his face in the hope to make it go away. If he could, he would pinch the bridge of his nose or beak. He settled instead in taking a deep breath and slowly opening his eyes. He chirped when he saw that he was finally at the lumber mill headquarters. He crawled to the edge of the woods and peered at the clearing before him.
The clearing was completely empty.
From his vantage point, he could see the office building on his left or rather the temporary, turned permanent, construction office that serves at their office. An old rectangular structure with green moss growing at the bottom. The griffin could see moss growing on the roof as well as some mushrooms. Some of the old red paint was coming off in places. The structure had pretty much fused with the ground floor underneath it. Stanford was pretty sure that if they tried to lift it, the floor would not come with the rest.
It was parked at the edge of the forest. Huge logs were stacked on each of its sides. He could see the woods clearing up on his left where the lumberjacks were cutting down trees. Next to it, neatly parked, were the red enormous road trucks on the right side of the clearing, near the entrance, with the rest of the heavy machinery. The whole thing was about four times the size of the clearing surrounding their house, if not more but it was completely empty.
A tumbleweed could have passed in the middle, it was so quiet. Instead a group of gnomes ran across.
Ford looked left and right to make sure he was truly alone and the gnomes had disappeared on the other side, before stepping out of the cover of the woods. He walked to the middle of the clearing and sat on his hunches. He glanced around, turning his head to one hundred and eighty degrees behind him. He scowled.
What is going on?
All the tire marks he could see weren't old but none of them were fresh. Except for one set. One that came from the main road, parked near the main building and then circled the clearing back out toward the main road. Ford stood up and walked closer to examine those tracks.
He immediately recognized them. They were the Stanmobil's tire tracks. So his brother did come to the lumber mill this morning but he didn't stay long. He didn't go back to the house that's for sure, so where did he go? Ford followed them back to the main road and saw that after leaving the clearing they turned toward the town.
The griffin's shoulders dropped. His twin had gone into town. He had hoped he didn't. He felt his ears drooped and his whole frame sagged. Stan was lying to him. He had hoped to be wrong about his brother but he was definitely hiding something from him. He took a deep breath.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
He stood back up and walked up to the entrance of the clearing, he was going to find his twin one way or another. He passed in front of some of the trucks and couldn't help but feel small next to them. He now towered over Stan's car but these were on a whole new level. He didn't want to be caught in front of them or any vehicle for that matter. He doubted Stan would know how to treat any wounds he might get and he doubted a veterinarian would accept to see him.
As he exited the clearing, he wondered where he should start his search for his brother. He couldn't go right to the middle, people would most likely run away from him and call animal control on him. He decided he would start by circling the town and try to spot the distinctive red El diablo from afar. It shouldn't be that hard, he just had to start to look in places he knew his brother would be. He raised his head to see the first building starting to appear between the trees.
Since he was coming from the east side of the town, he was closer to the residential area. He doubted he would find his twin here, so he walked around it and headed north, where most of the public buildings would be. He left the houses behind to follow the road toward downtown. He passed Gravity Falls High School with it's mostly empty parking lot except for the red El Diablo parked at -
Wait what!
Stanford skidded to halt, tripped over his paws and landed on his belly. He quickly stood up to shake himself and stare in bewilderment at the car on the other side of the road at the far end of the parking lot.
It… It can't be? What… What would Stan… It can't be!
He had expected his twin to be somewhere closer to downtown, where the things he likes would be. Not in the parking of a high school!
The griffin stepped forward until he was at the edge of the forest. He double checked on each of his sides to make sure no one was near or could see him before crossing over to have a look at the car. He kept himself low to the ground, the fur of his belly barely scraping the road, and creeped up to the car. He hid behind and made sure to keep a very low profile. The woods were just behind him if he needed to disappear fast.
It definitely looked like Stan's but he had to be certain. He peaked at the inside and saw a bunch of biology, genetics and physics books. There were notebooks next to them, they all looked relatively new to Ford, each label with a different number and what looked to be different classes. These weren't things his brother would bother to carry around… But the report card on the kitchen table suggested otherwise. This could always be the car of some else who just happened to have the same taste as his twin. He shuffled around and looked at the identification plaque on the front, to prove to himself that this wasn't Stan's car. This couldn't be…
The identification plaque read STNLYMBL.
Not caring to be seen or not, Stanford rose and sat on his hind legs to stare at the red car in front of him.
This was Stan's car. There were no doubts about it. His twin had science books in his car and notebooks to go with them. The calculations, the notes, the late night return home and now this…
Stan has gone back to school. To acquire knowledge he didn't possess… To find a solution to help me.
The griffin found himself choked up by the gesture. His breath became unsteady. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and blinked the wetness away that had suddenly appeared in his eyes. He thought back at the results on the report card. They were far from the ones he would have got himself but they were still decent and Stan had passed all of them. He felt proud. A quiet whine escaped his beak.
He had first come out here to confront his twin with the things he was bidding from him. That feeling of vindication was forgotten. He couldn't bring himself to be mad at Stan. He didn't want to be mad at Stan. It wouldn't do them any good. No, he would help and encourage his twin in any way he could, instead!
He raised his head and looked around. The corner of what remained of his lips twitching upward. He needed to see it! He wanted to see Stan. He had to be close by but where… He doubted his twin had sneaked inside the school. His eyes landed on the library building just a few paces away. Stanford left the parking lot and trotted to the building. He spotted a window on the side and peered in.
I hope I get to see him!
He frowned when he saw that he didn't have a good view of the whole library from here. He walked around and saw another one at the back of the building, slightly higher. Even with his side and standing high on his hind legs he could barely reach the bottom. He dropped down and huffed but his frustration was short when he saw the garbage container on his right. It wasn't the best of things but it would do, plus he had mostly lost his sense of smell when his nose was turned into a beak.
He rested both of his front paws on the top and pushed the container under the window. Once satisfied, he hopped on it, happy to finally reach the window, even on his hind legs. He rested his front paw on the window's ledge and peered inside. He immediately spotted his twin and chirped.
There!
Stan was sitting at a table just below the window, in the far end of the library, alone. Piles of books were surrounding him, heavy books by the looks of it. Stan was looking down on some papers scattered in front of him. He had his back turned to the window, but Stanford could see him holding his temple between his hands, trying to concentrate on what he was reading.
Stanford couldn't help the purring sound that erupted from his chest all the way to his throat. He was proud to see his twin going to such length to help him. People, mostly their father, might have said that Stan was riding on his coattail during high school but Ford didn't think that was it, not anymore. Maybe Stan just never had a reason or motivation to perform. Maybe if things had been different, his brother would have found his own passion. They had wanted to go sail around the world looking for treasure, Stan could have gotten a diploma and become an archeologist. Or something. Ford shook his head to chase all those scenarios away. There was no point in drowning in what ifs scenarios. His twin was studying and seemed pretty interested in what he was reading. How the tables have turned...
The griffin rested his head on his paws and kept looking at his twin for hours on end. He was mesmerized by the sight and didn't want to miss a thing. He tried to see what his twin was reading but even with his powerful vision he couldn't make out any of what Stan was reading. He settled into simply looking from a distance. It didn't matter. He felt excited about the prospect of seeing what Stan would be coming up with his new knowledge. His tail started to sway happily behind him.
I never thought I'd be the one looking at Stan while he studies.
The shadows stretched as the day went by. Ford was leaning on his paws and never took his eyes off of Stan's back. The sun was setting on the horizon and it's heat was seeping deep into his body. His eyelids suddenly became heavier. He eyed his twin and saw him yawn and stretch. Encouraged, Stanford did the same, ruffling his feathers before setting them down. He tilted his head when he saw his brother had stopped his stretch right in the middle. He was looking at something in front of him. The griffin followed his gaze and landed on…
Oh…
Ford froze in place. His twin was looking at the wall in front of him. A wall where the shadow from the window was cast. Where both brothers could clearly see the outline of Ford's head.
In an instant, Stan was standing on his feet and turning around to look at the window.
Stanford panicked and took a step back. Or more exactly, he misstepped. He lost his balance and tilted backward. A yelp of surprise escaped his throat. His front paws digged deep into the wall of the library in a desperate attempt to stop his fall. He crashed hard on the top of the garbage bin, landing on his back and knocking the wind out of him, before rolling over and hitting the ground.
For a moment, the world spun and Stanford felt dizzy. He groaned and closed his eyes. His back hurt and his left wing throbbed. He had landed on his side and his wing. He grumbled, raised his head and assessed the damage he had done. His eyes landed on the deep claw marks he had made.
So much for keeping a low profile. Maybe they'll think it was some kind of bear.
He heard the sound of footsteps coming his way and quickly stood on all four and sprinted for the safety of the threes. He crouched down and was about to head back to the house.
"Stanford!" Stan yelled behind him. "Ford, I saw you in the window. Plus you're kinda the only thing around here who could've left six fingered claw marks."
The griffin sighed and trotted back to the edge of the woods, making sure to stay in the shadows. Stan was standing a few paces away from the building with a leather handbag resting over his shoulder. To his surprise, his brother was also wearing a pair of half-moon glasses on his nose. Another thing he had kept hidden from him but Ford found that he couldn't be mad. His brother, on the other hand, didn't look thrilled by Ford's presence at the library. One of his feet was tapping the ground. He looked annoyed. His arms were crossed over his chest.
"What the hell are ya doing out here!" Stan hissed as he walked up to the edge of the woods. "What if someone saw you!"
Ford rolled his head.
Thank you for the vote of confidence, Stanley."Don't give me that look. I thought we were trying to keep a low profile." He whispered and raised an eyebrow. "What are ya doing here anyway?"
The griffin took a careful step out of the forest to come closer to his twin. He puffed up the feathers of his chest and ducked his head. He found the letter where he had securely tucked away. He carefully grabbed it in his beak and waved it in front of Stan's face.
"Wrooo." He said as quietly as possible.
Stan swayed him away before trying to grab the piece of paper. Stanford just raised his head higher to prevent him from Snatching it. He pointed toward what he was pretty sure was their home with one of his paws.
His brother raised an eyebrow and looked at where he was pointing. Both his eyebrows raised to his forehead when he realized what Ford was doing. He passed a hand over his face and groaned.
"Ya find the letter…" he whispered. It wasn't an accusation so much as a statement.
Ford nodded and gave him the paper. Stan took it and read it one more time before putting it in his bag. Ford just sat on his hind legs and waited. His brother took a deep breath.
"I didn't wanna keep it from you, I swear!" He looked Ford in the eye. The griffin could see that he was worried and anxious but honest. "I… I went ahead and registered for some classes and then one thing led to another and… here we are. I thought it would help us with our whole situation. This thing is beyond me. I needed help. I didn't wanna get your hopes up in case it turned out to be a waste of time. I was planning on telling you but never found the time or courage. Mostly courage. Do you believe me?"
Stanford rose to his feet and carefully balanced himself on his hind legs before raising his front ones and bringing his brother in for a hug, burying him in the feathers of his chest. He moved slowly and made sure to keep his claws in check but he needed to show Stanley that he truly appreciated all his twin was doing. With all his heart, he squeezed him tightly. For the second time that day, he felt proud. Proud and beyond grateful for what length his brother was going to in order to turn him back. He purred again to show all his appreciation toward Stanley.
I believe you Stanley. I'm sorry I ever doubted you.
He felt something moved. His brother was flailing his arms widely, trying to free himself from the griffin's soft grip. Ford chuckled and quickly released Stan from his cuddly embrace. His twin stepped backward a bit and coughed up one or two feathers.
"We're ya trying to smother me ta death?" He said. Despite the words there aren't any bite to them. Stan chuckled and rubbed a hand behind his head, eying the griffin. "I swear I'm not hiding anything more from you."
Stanford huffed and raised an eyebrow at Stan.
Really? Then what are these?He leaned in forward and grabbed the bridge of the glasses resting on his brother's nose with his beak. Stan made a strangled noise and hastily grabbed them back from Ford.
"Dang it! I've forgotten I was wearing them." He passed a thumb over one of the lenses before tucking them into his bag. He shot a sheepish smile at his brother. "Dan gave me those. They… They help me concentrate and read. I don't squint at the paper as much with them."
I was the one nearsighted, you don't need to justify yourself to me.
Stanford just shrugged his shoulders and sat on his hind legs. He wanted Stan to keep elaborating. He felt a bubble of excitement building up in his chest. His front paws were tapping the ground before him and his tail kept swaying left and right. He was truly happy. For the first time in a long time, he was happy.
Stanford might have taken some biology classes at Backupsmore but nothing close to what his twin was doing. He wanted to know everything his twin was learning and what theory he would cook up.
The griffin chirped and clapped his beak a couple of times, too eager to know all the knowledge his twin had come up with.
Stan laughed and raised a hand to make him stop. Ford's enthusiasm quieted down but happy mumbling noises kept coming out of his beak.
"All right, easy, Big Bird," He dug his hand in his pants pockets and retrieved his car keys. "What do you say we take this conversation home?" He walked back to the corner of the building. Before completely disappearing, he turned one last time and shouted. "Race ya!"
"WROOO!" Stanford answered back.
Moments later, he leaped over the Stanmobil and vanished into the woods at blazing speed. Some noises were distracting him a little but they didn't bother him as much as they did. He trusted his body to know what to do, just like he trusted and believed in his twin.
Maybe he would become feral in the long run but with his brother by his side, he would still feel himself and home.
Once they got back home and Stan chastised Ford for wrecking the back door again, they talked and talked for hours on end. Stan explained his reasoning to Stanford in detail and how he could feel a breakthrough coming to the tip of his fingers if he kept at it.
He wanted to keep at it. Stan wasn't sure if it was to prove to himself he could do it or just to help Ford.
Because of Stanford's academic record and the fact that Stan was using his name he got a free scholarship to Quentin Tremblay University College. This was a relief, he just had to stay focused and concentrate on his study and it would be a piece of cake. Stan couldn't give up. He was already too deep in it.
So for the years that followed, Stanford kept a low profile and encouraged his twin every day in his challenging endeavour. He still followed Stan to the library every chance he got, the griffin may or may not have been spotted by some children on more than one occasion but that shouldn't be a problem. Right?
And after eight years it happened. One morning the mailman came and gave Stan a big envelope with the school's seal on it.