I will never understand why so many people like this shitty, cracky, lame story.
"Do you prefer Stanley or Stan?"
Stan looked up with a snort, prepared to say a snarky comment, but felt his voice die in his throat. His interrogator was a red-head. She wore a leather cat-suit, and damn…
"Either one for you, babe." Stan said with a wink,
"So, tell me about yourself, Stan." The red-head said, sitting down in the seat across from Stan's.
"Well, I was born in Jersey. My mom was a pathological liar and my dad was a dick. I got kicked out of my house before I finished high school and went to make a fortune. I retired last year after the earthquake in Gravity Falls and went sailing with my brother." Stan said confidently, proud of himself for remembering the earthquake part.
"Really? My records here say...you've been dead." The red-head said and gave Stan a disappointed look.
"Uh..misprint." Stan said easily.
"So..tell me about the earthquake." She asked, and Stan shrugged as best as he could with his hands cuffed behind him.
"Well, it was big and did some damage." He replied, but felt himself blanch as the lady put some pictures on the table.
"What are these?" She asked, and Stan felt a drop of sweat fall onto the table.
"God, it's hot in here, isn't it?" He chuckled, and pretended to study the pictures. Sweet Moses, was that a picture of Ford...Mabel's bubble...no! He showed no outward emotion other than confusion, but inside he was fuming. I'd kill that damn triangle if he wasn't already dead. "I don't know what these are. Photocropped or shipped or whatever? Probably by those crazy people on the interwebs."
"Interesting." A perfect, arched eyebrow. "Your brother took a shining to this one in particular." She held up a picture of Bill in all his triangular glory, and Stan gritted his teeth.
"You drugged him. He was hallucinating. He's a paranormal investigator, and sometimes he's pretty stupid. He thinks he sees thinks when he doesn't. He's been pretty paranoid ever since-" Stan caught himself just in time, but realized that if he didn't finish the sentence it would look suspicious.
"Ever since, he..uh..was in the war. Vietnam. " Stan finished lamely. "He- uh..doesn't like me telling people. He was-er..a POW."
"And you didn't go to war?" She asked, and Stan nodded.
"That's why I pretended to be dead." He said, and realized his slip-up a moment too late.
"I thought you said that was a misprint?"
"Oh, did I? Bad memory." Stan was full out sweating now, drops running down his face. "Very hot in here."
"Is it? It's 68 degrees." The red-haired lady smirked, and Stan sighed.
"Whatever. You know how it is with old people. Hot flashes and what not." Stan muttered, looking at the picture of Bill again. Asshole. This damn thing is all your fault you fucking space nacho.
A buzzer sounded, and Stan looked up, relieved. "Well, that's all the time we have for today." The lady said, getting up, and Stan was sent back to his and Ford's cell.
Ford was doing pushups, but stopped once Stan was shoved in, glaring at the guard. "How was it?" He asked, getting up and sitting on his cot.
"Well..I told them that you're paranoid because you were a POW of Vietnam." Stanley said, and Ford stared at him.
"What in Heaven's name, Stanley? Why would you say that?" He exclaimed, and Stan sighed.
"There was a hot lady. She caught me off guard, you know? I was expecting one of those gross, masculine grunts. And technically, you have fought in a war. You were a prisoner of war."
"Shut up, Stanley." Ford hissed, giving Stan a venomous glare.
"I may have also told them that you were paranoid and a bit crazy." Stan continued, ignoring his brother.
"Stanley!"
"I mean, you were a bit paranoid...still kinda are. I noticed that you patrolled the shack everyday. Not as subtle as you think, Poindexter."
Ford let out a long sigh and began tuning out his brother.
"I'll have them clear you of all and any charges you've committed. That includes your long list from various fake, illegal IDs, fraud, theft...any of the other multiple crimes on your record. Assault...impersonation, faking your own death. Reckless driving, forgery, breaking and entering. We've barely even really gotten into it."
"Look here, Mr. Pirate," Stan said, ignoring the annoyed look from the other man, "I already explained that the death thing was just a misprint."
"And the rest of it? This could very well land you in a jail cell for a long, long, time, Mr. Pines."
"So what, you want me to tell you what happened? It was just an earthquake." Stan grinned, and Fury gave him a death glare.
"And let's not forget your brother. Illegal possession of a firearm, resisting arrest, assault, aiding a criminal."
Stan snorted. "I can't speak for my brother, but I'm pretty sure he'd tell you to fuck off. Except he'd probably say it nerdily. Is there even a way to say fuck off nerdily?"
"Consider our offer, Stanley. It's a very nice deal compared to the years you could spend rotting in a jail cell." Fury said, and got up, turning with a dramatic coat swish.
"Jeez, that guy's more dramatic than Ford is, am I right?" The annoying agent grunts didn't respond, rather taking Stan back to the cell.
Ford was sprawled out in the middle of the floor, looking a bit groggy as he looked around blearily. Both of his wrists were bandaged and Stan sighed. "You're drugged again. What did you do?"
Ford giggled, eyes crossing. "I brooooke the handcuffs and beat 'im up. I alsoooo bit the guaard. 'N scraaatched an'ther guaaard ooooon tha faceee." He drawled, and Stan cringed. It was always startling to hear his usually eloquent brother speaking so slurred.
"It's funny that you always fight with the guards when you always tell me not to make them mad." Stan huffed, helping his twin to his feet. "You have to stop doing this, Ford."
"Beeeetter meeee th'n youu"
Stan shook his head. "You're not supposed to be self-sacrificing, Sixer. It's out of character."
"Soooorry."
"You're not supposed to apologize either."
"Oh." With that, Stan dumped his brother in his cot and got into his own cot.
"Night Ford." Stan said, turning towards the wall.
Ford just grunted in response.