"Ooh!" Mabel squealed, pointing to a text-filled square on the papers spread flat across the kitchen table. "Look, Dipper! A petting zoo!"

"Mabel, shh!" Dipper said, putting a finger to his lips. He glanced across the room into the den where his Great Uncle Stan lay scrunched up in his lumpy mustard-yellow armchair. His head was lolled back, his mouth wide open, with a line of drool reaching nearly to his chin and dripping down farther every time Stan let out a massive snore. A thin light from the muted television, displaying a helicopter view of a traffic accident, illuminated him in his sleep, and he probably would have been an image of peace if not for the snoring, which treated his niece and nephew to a symphony not unlike what one would achieve by repeatedly yanking the start cord of an old push lawnmower.

Mabel nodded. "Right," she whispered. "Don't wake the Grunkle. But lookie!" She pointed at the newspaper again. "Petting zoo, all day Wednesday. I'm loving the sound of this Midsummer Festival!"

Dipper grinned. "Okay, when Stan does wake up, make sure you never let him hear you say that."

In town that prior afternoon, Dipper and Mabel had spotted the citizens of Gravity Falls decorating the main street and town square. Stan had tried his best to shoo the kids home, but not before Mabel asked what was going on here.

"Nothing," Stan had grunted, shoving them toward the car. "Now let's get-"

"Why Stan, didn't you know?" a voice had piped up from nearby, and Stan grimaced as he recognized the grating voice of self-proclaimed reporter Toby Determined. "All next week, the annual Midsummer Festival is in town!"

"Midsummer Festival?" Mabel had repeated. "What's that?"

"Only the biggest event in Gravity Falls!" Toby had replied excitedly. "A week of rides and games and food and shows. I'm surprised you forgot, about it, Stan."

Stan glared at him. "I didn't forget," he said. "It's just not worth my time. Can't get anything at the stupid Midsummer Festival that you couldn't find at the mystery fair."

Dipper turned to Toby. "Do the rides at Midsummer follow any sort of safety regulations?"

"Well, of course."

"Then it sounds like an improvement to me. Got any more info?"

The conversation commenced with Dipper and Mabel being loaded up with schedules and flyers, all courtesy of Toby, while Stan had stood to the side muttering inaudibly about "blood traitors" and how this was "worse than Pioneer Day." Now, Dipper and Mabel were perusing the promotional materials, armed with highlighters, ready to plan their week at the festival.

"So it's a definite for the petting zoo?" Mabel asked. "Maybe I could find a friend for Waddles! Like a lion, or a giraffe!"

"I'm pretty sure that's not how petting zoos work, Mabel," Dipper said.

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Oh, okay, but I'm sure I'll still find something. Ooh, how about this?" She held up a brochure. "Little Miss Gravity Falls Contest, Friday night! I could compete in that, and be a pageant princess! I could get a little sash and tiara and everything!"

" 'Open to permanent residents of Gravity Falls and outlying rural areas, ages four through eight'," Dipper read off the brochure's cover. "So, that's a no-go." He picked up another flyer. "Hey, this looks good! On monday evening, the museum is sponsoring a display of local and nearby archaeological findings: uncovered artifacts from the Tsetsaut, Gitksan, and Nuxalk tribes, as well as-"

Mabel let out an exaggerated yawn. "Booo-ring!" She said. "I am not going to spend my evening looking at a bunch of dusty old Indian doohickies. That sounds more like school than fun."

Dipper frowned at her. "Fine, what do you propose?"

"Hmm," Mabel said. She peered over the posters again. "I've got it!" she cried, snatching up one of them. Bold red font stood out against bright blue background, interlaced with clipart pictures of top hats and playing cards. "'Rose Thorn's Magical Extravaganza!'" she read. "'Tricks and illusions to delight the eyes and boggle the mind! An evening of fun for the whole family! First showing monday night and the Gravity Falls Community Center and Buffet.'"

Dipper winced. "I don't know, Mabel," he said. "Remember last time we went to see a show that had magic in it? You ended up with the world's creepiest stalker, and I nearly got my tongue cut out."

"Yeah, but that was real magic," Mabel argued. "It says right here on this poster: tricks and illusions! That means it's fake."

"We thought Gideon was fake too," Dipper replied. His gaze wandered over to the den. It passed over his sleeping uncle and to the TV, and his eyes widened. "And speak of the devil-" he whispered.

Immediately he pushed his chair back and hurried into the den, Mabel on his heels asking, "What is it? What devil?" He stared for a moment at the television screen. A woman wearing a navy-blue blazer and holding a microphone was standing in front of a very familiar blue tent. "Oh," Mabel said. "That devil."

Dipper leapt toward the set and cranked the volume dial. "Huh, whazza-" Stan mumbled, rousing from his sleep, but Mabel silenced him with a sharp, "Shh!" The reporter's solemn voice rang throughout the den.

"-are currently uncertain as to the cause of death. Police at the scene report no sign of external, physical force on the body, although there was evidence in the dressing room of a struggle. That, along with the alleged assault and battery of the late Gideon Gleeful's father, indicate foul play."

Stan's jaw dropped. "Did she say-"

"The late Gideon Gleeful?" Dipper gasped.

"The body has been formally extracted, and a forensics team dispatched to the scene of death. In the meantime, the most we can do is wait for the lab results. More on this story as it develops."

"Thank you, Seandra." The camera cut to a smiling man in a tie sitting behind a mahogany desk. "Well, it's been a gloomy day today in the world of stock trade, where-"

Stan cut the man off with flick of the mute button on his remote. The three of them sat in silence for a moment, each unwilling to be the first to speak. Finally, Mabel cleared her throat. "So... Gideon's dead?"

Dipper nodded dumbly and brought his knees up to his chest. "Yeah, looks like it," he said softly. He gulped. "You know, I know you're not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but..."

"But the little punk had it coming to him," Stan finished with a grunt.

Mabel whipped her head toward him with a gasp. "Grunkle Stan! How could you say that?"

"Look, I'm not saying I approve of murder or anything like that. I ain't heartless. I just figure, if anyone in this town had to go and die a mysterious death... well, I couldn't think of a better candidate."

Dipper tapped his fingers thoughtfully against his knee. "Mysterious..." he repeated slowly.

With a groan, Stan turned to scowl at his nephew. "Oh, no," he said. "I know that look. Listen, I know you're all about solving those little mysteries of yours, but you stay away from that yellow tape. You can have fun with your pixies and goblins, but a death site is not your scene. Are you listening to me, kid?"

"I'm listening."

"I'm serious, Dip. You try and play detective, you're just going to end up on the wrong side of the cops. So no snooping."

Dipper waved a hand lazily at his uncle. "I won't, Grunkle Stan. Promise."

"Good." Stan stretched, and several of his vertebrae popped loudly. "Ugh, that armchair is not good for the spine," he muttered. "I'm heading up to bed. You two coming?"

The kids nodded and followed Stan up the stairs. Their nighttime ablutions flicked by in silence, and Dipper and Mabel settled into their respective beds, the lights turned off. After a few minutes Mabel rolled over and said softly, "Stan said no snooping."

Dipper rolled over as well, to face her. "Yeah, I know."

"We gonna go snooping anyway?"

Her brother gave her a small smile. "Oh, yeah," he replied. "Definitely."

A/N: My family got a new puppy, and I can't snuggle with it because I'm in a different state. You can help cheer me up by reviewing, favoriting, and following. Do it for the puppy, guys.