"What'd I tell ya? Three open ended bus tickets outa this heatsink." Lee stretched grandly in the back of the trembly old bus, yawning so wide his jaw cracked. "Piece a' cake."

"Yeah, yeah Knucklehead. We get it, great job." Ford rolled his eyes, making a disgusted face at Fiddleford. "You're the hero of the day, yadda yadda yadda."

"Let's not be forgettin' ten bucks each. I got Ma up to ten bucks each. Fiddle, what'd your folks give ya?"

"Um. I. Um." Fiddleford swallowed, and Lee's face heated up.

"Look, t'ain't no secret yer folks make out better'n ours. Whatever ya got, it'll help all'a us," Ford patted Fiddle's arm. "Whatcha got?"

"Twenny," Fiddle mumbled, and Lee just about choked on his gum.

"Twenny!" Lee croaked. "I'd hafta hogtie Ma before I even started thinkin' 'bout askin' her for twenny a-piece! That's thirty dollars!"

"Forty," Ford corrected.

"Forty dollars!"

"But it's jus' me, so jus' twenny," Fiddle shrank into his seat. "M'sorry."

"Don' be sorry, Fiddle." Ford patted him gently on the back, about where Texas had been drawn so he didn't hit a burn line. "Lee's jus' a little sour. We got forty for all'a us now, I think we'll be good. Ya brought food an' sleepin' gear?"

"All I could find."

"Good. Lee, you brought the rest?"

"Enough comic books ta get us through ten car trips."

"Good stuff, Lee. Jus' one more thing. B'fore we get into the comic books, we gotta figure out where we're goin'. I stoled a book from the library, it's got a big ol' map of Oregon." He pulled a book from his backpack and spread it open. One area had been marked up in pencil. "See here? This part, this is where Fiddle's G F burn is. Now, we gotta find a place here that starts with G and F. Everybody start lookin'!"

"Is, is that it there?" Fiddle pointed to a name on the map. "Gravity Falls?"

Ford and Lee peered at the section.

"Welp." Lee leaned back, yanking out a comic book, "That didn't take long. I don' see any other places startin' with G and F."

"Me neither," Ford scratched his head. "Guess I better tell the driver."

…..

"Four days!"

"Yeah, I got that, Lee."

"Four. Bubblin'. Days. My comics di'n't even last us halfway here! An' we'll have the same time goin' back! I was gonna start beggin' fer a colorin' book an' crayons if it gone on much longer!"

"I got all our reports done," Fiddle offered meekly. "We'll hand 'em in to the teachers when we're back an' they won't mark us down fer bein' gone."

"He wrote three reports, Ford! That's how long! I'm gonna go bats!"

"Ya'll can shaddup now, we're here," Ford muttered, stumbling off the bus and stretching. "Gulls, I feel like an old man. Everything's crackin' when I move. Fiddle, got all yer gear?"

"I got my backpack, just gotta get the stuff from below." Fiddle headed around the bus for the luggage compartment.

"Okay wiseguy, now we're here in Gravity Falls. Now what're we gonna do?" Lee stretched mightily, setting off a string of joint crackings like popcorn over a campfire.

"Well, it's nighttime. I say we find a comfy spot an' roll out the sleepin' bags. Bound somethin's comin' to us in the mornin'."

"Yeah, an' just where we gonna roll out? Fiddle's been good on the bus, but only 'cause we barely got sleep on it. What if he starts yellin' at crazy dreams again?"

"Hate ta say it, Lee, but that might be what we need ta have happen. Someone's drawin' clues on him, an' the last clue we had was the name a' this place. We need more if'n we're gonna figure this out."

Lee frowned. "I don' like it, Poindexter. We're s'posed ta be protectin' him from whatever this is, not lettin' it burn 'im more."

"I don' like it either, Lee. But what else we gonna do?"

Lee sighed. "Ya got Ma's cream for him, right?"

"Yeah. I got it."

"Alright. I'll go scout us out a spot. But get us somethin' good fer dinner. I'm sick'a PB&J. Four days straight, Ford. I need somethin' meatier."

They bumped knuckles and parted, Lee headed in the direction of a promising looking forest, and Ford headed around to help Fiddle unload.

An hour later, Lee returned, calling he'd found a sweet spot. Fiddle and Lee loaded all the bags they could carry, while Ford held the three boxes of food he'd gotten from the local cafe, Greasy's Diner.

"You're not gonna believe it," he chuckled, leading them away from town, "Just not gonna believe what I found. Forget stayin' in the woods, this is perfect!"

A half-hour's walk led them to the porch of a sagging, run down, rickety old shack. The windows were cracked and the boarding was warped and buckled. Several roof shingles were missing, and dangerously large piles of scat lay heaped here and there around the property, but Lee walked up to it, beaming like he'd discovered Atlantis.

"See, what'd I tell ya? Not just some clearin' in the woods, we got us our own shack!"

"Lee, you sure 'bout this?" Ford bit his lip. "What if it's somebody's?"

Lee scoffed. "Get real, Poindexter. Lookit this place, nobody's been here in ages. Door even says so." Lee swung the door open, the ensuing hinge shriek scaring three flocks of birds into flight. "C'mon, this'll keep us dry if'n it rains and safe from bears an' stuff. We got us our very own house!"

"I, I like the idea of no bears," Fiddle piped up.

"There ya go, Fiddle's on board. Whaddaya say, Poindexter?"

Ford shrugged. "A'ight, Lee. Good find. But it's late, let's unpack an' get some shuteye. No tellin' what we're gonna find out t'morrow."