"Jason Funderberker found the road!" Greg announced. The frog croaked affirmatively. Greg scooped him up and plopped him back in the pocket of his pants. "He's a great scout! We should take him on a hunting trip."

Wirt shielded his eyes as he came out from under the forest's canopy. The air hummed with heat without the trees there to interrupt it. The road was a stripe of yellow dust winding out of sight in both directions, lined with wild lupine. Greg was already stuffing the flowers under his teapot.

Wirt turned to Beatrice. "We have roads kinda like this. Do you?"

"Yeah, but the type of road isn't a great indicator of the time. I don't think."

"Right." He stooped to have a closer look. Tire marks were carved into the dust. "Aha! Do you have cars?"

"Cars? I mean I've heard of them, but," she bent to look, too. "I don't know, Wirt. Let's just follow it until we find somebody."

"Okay, but which way?" He looked right, then left. She looked left, then right. Forest, forest, forest, forest.

"I hate this," Beatrice groaned. "I never want to see another tree again."

"Wait, do you hear that?" Wirt froze. It sounded a little like a motor. "I think someone's coming."

"We're walking." Beatrice announced, already headed towards the sound.

"Greg!" Wirt called. Greg was trying to balance a twig vertically on Jason Funderberker's back.

"Hm?"

"Let's go."

Greg grinned. "Okay!" He stuck the frog under his arm and rushed to grab Wirt's hand.

That's new Wirt noted. Greg was humming a little tune under his breath. It was just like his "Adelaide Parade" song, but no doubt with different lyrics now.

"827 bottles o' Pitt on the wall! 827 bottles o' Pitt! You take one down, pass it around, 826 bottles of Pitt on the wall! Dipper solo!" Mabel sang in Dipper's direction.

Dipper smiled and sang

"826 bottles o' Pitt on the wall! 826 bottles o'," Suddenly, something appeared on the road ahead. "Mabel!"

"That's not how it goes!"

"No, stop!" his arm shot out in front of her and she slammed on the brakes, sending a cloud of dirt and a chorus of screams up in front of them.

When the dust had settled, there stood 3 figures. Dipper's glance fell on the freckled girl closest to them, who coughed, brushing dirt off of her dress. Then he looked at the thin boy a couple yards behind her. He was wearing a pointy red hat and a blue cape. His arm blocked a little kid behind him. He was peering out from behind his cape, and appeared to be wearing a teapot on his head.

After rubbing the dirt from her eyes and staring for a minute, Mabel threw her arms up in frustration.

"Well if the gnomes had looked like THAT then I wouldn't have had a problem-"

Dipper smacked a hand over her mouth.

"Who are you?" he demanded, eyeing each suspiciously.

The girl in front gave an abrupt curtsy. "I am Beatrice. These kids and I got a little turned around in the forest there,"

"And we don't know where or when we are?" the skinny boy interrupted. "I'm Wirt, by the way. And this is Greg."

"And this is Jason Funderberker!" Teapot chimed in, holding a frog above his head.

Mabel gasped and climbed out of the golf cart, arms outstretched toward the frog.

"Ohmygosh he's so handsome!" she squealed. "And I love your teapot! I happen to dabble in kitchen accessories myself." She pulled back her hair to reveal forks hanging from her ears.

"Mabel, be careful!" Dipper called, running to meet her, journal in tow.

"Oh yeah," Beatrice remarked. She dropped her attempt of putting up a sweet front. "Teapots can be very dangerous." Mabel giggled.

"It's not a teapot-" Greg started to explain.

Dipper set his jaw. "Look, we know what this town is all about, and if something's weird, it probably is dangerous," he said. He pulled Mabel away and started thumbing through his journal. "Not to worry, though! I'll know who all of you are shortly."

Wirt stepped forward, craning his neck to get a look at the journal. When Dipper frowned and stepped back to obstruct his view, Wirt turned to the girl. He noted the stars in her eyes and felt his face go hot. He looked to Beatrice for guidance, but she shooed him aggressively towards her.

"Um, what exactly is 'this town'?" he stooped down to her eye level and lowered his voice.

"This is Gravity Falls! But what you need to know is that my name is Mabel."

Dipper let out some kind of hiss and stomped Mabel's foot. "Ow! Dipper!" Mabel shoved him away.

Wirt turned to Beatrice and mouthed "Gravity Falls?" She shrugged.

"And, what year will it be on January first?"

"Twenty-f-!" Dipper stomped her foot again. "Ow! Dude, stomp on someone your own size!"

"Ohhhhh kay that's the future. This is the future." Wirt whipped around to face Beatrice and Greg, eyes wide. Beatrice's face was going pale while Greg's lit up.

"The future?" he beamed "Do you have a device that can make frogs talk? Jason Funderberker has loads of jokes to tell me. He's a really good singer, but-"

"Nothing!" Dipper yelled, slamming his journal shut. "Maybe there's something in the other two."

"Dipper, I think they're from the past."

Dipper glared at each of them in turn. He grabbed Wirt by the middle of his shirt (as high as he could reach), and pulled down.

"What year were you born?" he demanded.

"Woah! Uhhh. 1973." Wirt stammered. Beatrice took a protective step forward.

"Look, buddy, you don't need to know anything more about us." Beatrice pulled Wirt backwards, out of Dipper's reach. "We've got all the information we need, so we'll just be on our way."

"Yeah!" Greg pushed his teapot back on his head in an attempt to look more dignified and marched in the opposite direction.

"Wait!" Mabel cried. "We have a portal thingy! Dipper," she jumped in front of him. "We can help them!"

The trio was already heading back to the forest. Wirt and Beatrice were speaking earnestly, out of the twin's earshot.

"Mabel, we've got enough on our plate as it is. There's no sense in bringing a whole other mess back home!" He turned back toward the golf cart. "And besides, the portal is like, super dangerous. And it's inter-dimensional! That's space, not time. Probably."

Mabel's head whipped back and forth between the trio- who were now reaching the forest's edge- and Dipper.

"Ford would be proud of you!" she blurted. Dipper stopped in his tracks.

"How so?" he inquired over his shoulder.

"Well," Mabel clasped her hands behind her back and took a step towards him. "He spent his whole life writing about crazy weird happenstances," she shrugged and pursed her lips. "And now here's something he hasn't even seen before. Could be fun…."

Dipper whimpered at the thought of it.

"Hey guys!" he called, a little louder than intended. Wirt and Beatrice looked up from a frantic discussion at the edge of the forest. Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. "We ah, might be able to help you. Or, know someone who can? Maybe?"

"Hooray!" Greg cheered and ran panting towards the golf cart. "Can I ride on the back? I've always wanted to see stuff get further away instead of closer!"

"Greg, wait." Wirt cautioned. He shot a distrustful glance towards Dipper and huddled in to talk with Beatrice.

"How do we know they really want to help us?"

"We don't, Wirt, but do we have any other options? It's this or wander aimlessly through the forest, and I think we've had enough of that."

Wirt looked back at Greg, who had pulled a flower from his teapot and stuck it in Mabel's hair.

"I guess you're right, but if anything seems shady, you gotta tell me."

"Duh."

Wirt and Beatrice put on faces of gratitude and approached the golf cart.

"Let's ah, roll," Wirt said tensely. "Come on, Greg, I'll sit on the back with you."

"Dipper, you drive!" Mabel squealed and rushed to the back of the cart.

Dipper regarded Beatrice with embarrassment.

"I think she likes him," Beatrice commented, climbing in the passenger seat.

"Oh, yeah, well that's Mabel. She's got a crush on anything even slightly resembling a boy." Dipper started the golf cart and turned it around. "You mean the tall one, right?"

Beatrice paused.

"Yes," she said. "I do mean the one who isn't actually a toddler."

"Right, right," Dipper tried to laugh. "So um, how old did you say you were?"

"If this is 20 something, then I must be about… 140? Give or take a decade or two."

Dipper clutched the steering wheel tighter in response. "I'm taking a ghost home," he whispered to himself. "I'm taking three ghosts home."