Camo and the Pines were, once again, watching TV. Cash Wheel this time, since Stan had gotten control of the remote for the day. She was sitting with her back on the floor, practically sitting on her head, by the dinosaur head. She was so horribly bored, at least until Soos came by yelling, "Mr. Pines! We got tourists at nine o'clock! A whole bus-load of them."
She picked up the top hat she'd lifted from Jason's house and excitedly looked at her boss. "Can I run the tour?!"
Everyone ran toward the window, except Stan, who ran to get dressed. When he did show up, though, he said, "Hot tamales, it's a jackpot! Soos, make some new attractions!" Soos was already doing that. "Wendy! Mark up those prices! The higher the better!" Wendy reluctantly changed the snow-globes from $2 to $200.
"Yeesh, Grunkle Stan!" Dipper said. "It's like when you look at tourists, all you see are wallets with legs."
Camo urgently looked out the window to make sure she didn't have Stanmoneyitis. Nope, regular tourists. Aw, one of them threw up. That was disgusting!
"Clean up on the front lawn!" Dipper reluctantly went to go clean it up.
"So . . ." Camo looked up at Stan hopefully. "Can I run the tour?!"
He sighed and nodded, and she squealed just loud enough that the tourists were displeased. She ran out onto the front lawn to start greeting them. "Hello, welcome to the Mystery Shack! Ooh, I love your shirt! Welcome! Care for a tour?" Then, when everyone had settled, she began. "Welcome one and all, to a place known across Gravity Falls! We bring these people novelties and befuddlements, and today, we bring them to you, too! I'm Camo HP, and I will be your tour guide today. If you could follow me inside . . . don't mind him, he's just cleaning that up . . . watch your step . . ."
"All right. Ladies and germ—uh, gentlemen," she continued, just barely catching herself, "looking around the Mystery Shack, you can see many wondrous roadside attractions, such as the amazing, only known photo of a horse, riding another horse!" The tourists, because they were dumb, took pictures. She felt awkward at this next point, so she changed the wording slightly for Dipper's sake. "And here we have a preteen wolf-boy, captured and brought here for rehabilitation," she said, pulling on the string. "Look at this one of a kind species! So unique!" Dipper looked very uncomfortable. "Uh, if you throw money at him, he dances!"
And the tourists did, because they were dumb. Dipper, reluctantly, started an awkward little dance. As the tourists looked around the room, she got up close to the stage and said, "Look, Dip, I'm doing the best I can, okay? Any more and Stan'll have me fired, and then who'll be there to look after you and your sister?"
He sighed. "I know, but this is demeaning."
She knew exactly what joke Stan would make there, but she wasn't a jerk, so she wouldn't say it. "I know, but this is how my paycheck is born. The more you let me do my thing, the more money I get." And the longer she could stay with food on her plate.
. . . she was pretty much out of money. Even with the extra hours she sometimes worked, the twins kept bringing her on adventures, which meant no money for that day and bruises and scrapes. At this point, every bit of her skin was either scratched, bruised, band-aided, sunburned, or covered with a big bite. She had to pay to get her clothes deep-cleaned, too, because of all the dirt they got on them. She was pretty screwed financially, especially since it was only the beginning on July.
She had just finished her tour when Stan yelled at Mabel for giving something away for free. Oh, that lecture. Camo never got it, since 1) she never worked the cash register, and 2) she wasn't dumb enough to give stuff away for free. When a customer was particularly nice, the most she ever did was half-off. Stan liked her, she was pretty sure—they thought alike, though she was a little more liberal than he was.
"Grunkle Stan, why do I have to wear this wolf costume?" Dipper asks. Ah, so he was pulling a Karen and asking the manager. Nice move. "I think I'm getting hookworm."
Stan laughed. "Yeah, gluing dog hair to your body will do that." She made a face, but the perfect argument sprang into her mind.
"Stan, don't you realize that if Dipper gets hookworm, you'll have to pay for it, being his legal guardian and such?" Stan's eyes widened in horror, and she grinned internally. Take that, lazy!
"You have all these dumb, fake exhibits in the Shack," Dipper said, tearing the ears off the headband he was wearing. "Meanwhile, I've seen actual amazing things in the forest every day! What if you hunted down a real attraction, instead of lying to people for a living?"
Camo raised a brow. "Dipper, I'm pretty sure Stan's been lying long before the Shack." Hadn't he mentioned it, that day at the lake so long ago?
"And you should be nicer to your employees, too!" Mabel butted in.
And, since they were all raising their beef with Stan, she added, "And it would be better if you treated the tourists better. Showing a little kindness and/or empathy every once in a while brings more customers."
They did a three-way high-five.
Stan sighed. "Look, if you guys got a problem with how I run the Shack, take it up with the complaints department," he said, lifting up the trash can with a chuckle.
Or . . . a brilliant idea began to blossom in her head. "Or we could make a bet." She said it slowly, walking her fingers along the counter and not looking at Stan for effect.
"And what did you have in mind?"
"I run the Shack. Three days. I do my best to tend to employee and customer reviews and treat people nicer than you do without letting them take advantage of me."
Stan rubbed his chin. "Alright. But. If I make more money on vacation than you make in those three days, all three of you have to wear a 'loser' shirt all summer." Okay. She could cover it up with a hoodie.
"But if we win, you change your ways and treat employees and customers better," Camo said.
"Plus, you have to sing an apology song, written by me," Mabel added.
"And we have to have real exhibits instead of fake ones!" Dipper exclaimed.
Stan stood upright and held out a hand. "You got yourself a deal, kid!" He held out a hand, and they shook on it, with surprising formality.
They stood, watching Stan pack his stuff to go. She did have a rising sense of trepidation, but she pushed it down with an air of confidence. She could handle this. She practically ran the Shack already whenever Stan was watching TV. She had this in the bag.
The fez was balanced rather precariously on her glasses frames. She may have had a big head, but no one had a bigger head than Stan. (You can take that as either a head joke or an ego joke. Both are applicable.)
"Alright," she said, clapping and turning around militaristically. She marched and started to pace in front of them. "Everyone here? Good. As you know, I'll be running the Shack for the next three days. In that time, I'm going to focus on customer and tourist reviews. Wendy, what ideas do you have that would help your work ethic?"
Wendy hummed. "Well, Stan never lets me hang out with friends at work," the teen said.
Camo thought about it. "Okay. For the moment, you can hang out with friends, but"—she stressed the last word—"only if you continue to do your job, don't break the merchandise, and don't piss off the customers, or me. Got it?" The teen deflated a little bit, but she nodded. "Soos, what ideas do you have to improve the Shack?"
"Well . . . I had this idea where I could be Questiony the Question Mark, and I'd be the Shack mascot. Stan didn't think I could handle it, though."
She hummed. "Is it already made?" The handyman nodded. "Alright. Sure, that sounds great, as long as you know how to take a tip on your style. And, Dipper—for as long as Stan is gone, no more wolf costume. I can't really promise for after, unfortunately, but not right now. You're allowed to go find a new exhibit out in the woods, as long as it's not dangerous and poses no harm to the tourists. Understand?"
"Sure do, Camo!"
She nodded crisply. "Okay. Let's try to make this the best three days of work yet, yeah?" They cheered. And then, quieter, to Wendy, with a powerful firmness, she added, "I meant every warning with your friends. I know they can get rowdy, but I won't have you be the reason I lose this bet, you got it?"
The teen nodded, and Camo got the vague impression that she was slightly scared of her.
She worked super hard. Mabel got to run the cashier (her rule was only one free item per customer, and that was only sometimes). She marked the prices down (not all the way—Stan was on Cash Wheel, and she couldn't afford the cheap stuff). She ran calculations on profit vs. cost for merchandise, she kept Wendy's friends under control, and she summoned all her charisma for the tourists. Of course, the effect was her being tired and worn out at the end of the day, but a loser shirt would put a damper on her self expression.
Dipper eventually showed up with a flock of "stomach-faced ducks", which were pretty good. She spent a bit of money getting a real enclosure for them and some time making it look good, but it went well with the tourists.
Soos had put on his question mark costume, and she would've done a spit-take, if she'd had any water in her mouth. He wasn't wearing anything except his underwear, and she frowned. "Soos, if your underwear work for the costume, wouldn't your clothes work too? You don't have to wear just underwear."
"Ohhhh . . . right. Thanks, Camo. And what if I forget my lines?"
"Write them on a little scrap of paper, small enough that you can hide it in your hand. That way, you can check on them if you really need to."
She walked indoors, very proud with the profit they'd made so far, and her smile instantly turned to a glare. "Wendy, what did I say about not wrecking the merchandise? You need to clean up whatever mess you make."
The teen groaned. "You're starting to sound like Stan."
"Yeah, well, I have to meet somewhere in the middle, and I'm not going to let you walk all over me. Clean up or your friends get the boot."
She sighed, but it worked. Yes! If she could keep Wendy under control, she could do anything!
Since everything was under control, she wandered to the TV, where she kept Cash Wheel running. Stan was making a mess of the rules. They probably wouldn't let him win, because he was cheating too much. Then, he started to take his clothes off and they abruptly went to commercials. She snorted loudly and returned to work.
Things progressed without issue . . . until somebody posted a picture of the stomach-faced ducks on social media. Granted, it wasn't as big a deal here as it would've been in her time, but that was . . . suboptimal. She placed a new ban on pictures of the exhibits when the guy refused to delete his post.
Then, they were doing really well. She kept checking up with Cash Wheel, and they were, somehow, staying ahead of him. She swelled up with pride at the thought.
However, that changed rather abruptly when the government guys showed up.
"Hey, Camo, did you know Stan and I have a code word for when I see a government vehicle?" Thankfully, Soos had put on some clothes so he wasn't totally terrifying every tourist.
"Uh . . . no? Why do you ask?"
"Because there is one."
"What?!" she exclaimed, looking out. If this was about that post on the stomach-faced ducks . . . She answered the door, shocked but still retaining her usual level of manners. "Uh, hello. How can I help you?"
Wow, these dudes were big and muscular. Kinda reminded her of the time dudes that brought her to Globnar. "My name is Agent Powers, and this is Agent Trigger," one of them said, and they both showed their ID cards. "We're here to investigate reports of paranormal creatures at this location."
"Oh," she said in a small voice. Stan probably would've lied and claimed there was nothing of the sort, but she wasn't Stan. "Yeah, right this way, sirs," she said, clearing her throat and leading them to the exhibit.
"We would like to talk with the owner of this establishment," Powers said in that same deadpan tone.
She chuckled nervously. "He's not here right now, but I've been appointed boss in his absence. He'll be back the day after tomorrow."
Powers raised an eyebrow. "He left a child in command?"
"Yeah," she said, and she coughed slightly. "But, I-I'm a pretty good employee, and it's only for a couple days. Here we are." Dipper was there, showing people the exhibit, and she shooed him away with a warning look. He moved the tourists to another room to look at something different, but she got the impression it was more because of the massive dudes in suits than her that he left. "So, the stomach-faced ducks. One of our employees found them in the woods, and I figured that it was good enough for this place."
"It is a felony for paranormal creatures to be put on display to the public," Powers continued to deadpan, and she winced. "But, since you are a minor, we will simply let you off with a stern warning as long as you agree to set them loose."
She nodded, a little chagrined. "Yes, sir." He moved to leave, along with his buddy, but she asked, "That's it? You're not going to question us, or wipe our memories, or anything?"
"These . . . stomach-faced ducks are hardly a shock. There are more important matters to attend to than lecturing a little girl." She winced again. Burn. "But if it happens again at this establishment, then you will be punishable with a high fine and you run the risk of jail time. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir." They left with their fancy government cars, and she waved. "Hope you enjoyed your stay at the Mystery Shack!"
Dipper walked up to her and asked, "So what was that all about?"
"Oh, you know. The exhibit you got is highly illegal, they were government dudes, and if they have to come again we'll have to pay and go to jail. Nothing much." She looked at the preteen, who was gaping back at her. "Go put those ducks back in the wild. I don't want to get caught with them again."
He nodded and turned to leave. However, she caught him on the shoulder. "Look, Stan doesn't have to know that we put his house on the radar for paranormal activity, right?"
His only reply was Wendy's 'lips are sealed' gesture.
Well, their profits suffered a little from that, but the day progressed without too much issue. Before she knew it, it was the last day of her being boss, and everything had gone without issue, surprisingly (except for the government guys, but she wasn't thinking about them. If she didn't think about, she couldn't slip up and tell Stan.) Then, it was over, quite anticlimactically. Stan came back, and everything was fine.
"How much did you get?" Camo asked. She knew, of course, having spent a good portion of her time watching Cash Wheel, but she knew Stan wanted to boast.
He puffed out his chest and said, "I won $300,000."
She gaped. They could never have earned that much!
"And then . . . I lost it all because I couldn't guess please," Stan admitted. "Guess that word can earn you money."
She cheered and reached for the sky. "Well, we got double the profits you would normally get within three days! So, ha!"
"So, what do I got to do now? Treat people better, and use real exhibits?"
Dipper cleared his throat. "Uh, never mind that last one."
"Okay, I gotta treat people better?"
Mabel grinned devilishly. "And . . ." She held up her camera, and Stan screamed and ran out the door when he realized.
"I'm Stan, and I was wrong. I'm doing the Stan wrong song. I shouldn't have taken that chance. Now here's my remorseful dance."
It was all worth it, if just for this.
*gasp* Camo actually . . . significantly changed the plot? But how!
Yeah, yeah, I know. Whatever. Shut up.