Shot to the Heart
(August 1-3, 2014)
Chapter 4: "That Funky Music"
Let's tell the truth: Stanley Pines had very little sense of rhythm, was somewhat tone-deaf, and thought most music performed after 1975 was basically noise. However, he had a great instinct for programming the musicians at Woodstick 2014.
The Friday performances launched at noon with a group called Fuzz Boots, who came on with a hard-rocking version of "Smoke Gets in My Water," a solid classic oldie with a killer bass riff that got the audience on its feet. They segued right into "Chains on My Heart," one of their originals, that let their lead guitarist go crazy with a showy solo bit, and then they blazed through four more songs that got everyone dancing, even Manly Dan, whom Wendy and Dipper spotted close to the stage.
Of course, his dancing looked a whole lot like a man trying to dodge a falling tree, and people gave him such a wide berth that he was dancing alone, but everyone seemed to enjoy the show. Anyway, they clapped along in rhythm.
"Man," Wendy said over the music and the crowd sounds, "I'm glad we parked ourselves up here. I mean, he's easy to pick out at this distance, but I don't think he'll spot us!"
Nate and Lee brought their girls up and joined Dipper and Wendy—Lee thoughtfully brought a big Navajo-patterned blanket they spread out, so they didn't have to sit on the prickly grass any longer—and a sad looking Thompson eventually trudged over, too.
Pam, Lee's girl, wasn't as trashy as Nate's teasing had led Dipper to expect. In fact, she was a perfectly nice brown-haired seventeen-year-old with close-cropped hair, nostril studs, and some tattoos on her arms that looked real. But she seemed friendly and even a little shy, saying "Hi" to Dipper with a smile that begged, Please like me just as I am.
Nate's girlfriend Cindy—Dipper had met her before twice—was dark, with black hair and big brown eyes and had a perpetual habit of being bored. "I thought they'd have some real music," she muttered. "This ground is hard. Nate, I want to sit on your lap."
When Fuzz Boots went out with their biggest hit, "Iron Dude," which got everyone on their feet and jumping in the air, except for Cindy. "That was OK," she said, the Gravity Falls equivalent of a Grammy. Following Fuzz Boots was Gramma's Panties, an all-girl group of six, all of them tattooed, pierced, and decked out in leather. They started playing while the audience was still cheering, and Dipper couldn't even hear the first chords of their song. Wendy yelled in his ear, "'Fumblelina!' Punk metal surf, dude!"
When he could hear the music again, at first Dipper thought there must be an electrical short in the amplifiers, but then the tune settled in to a bass-heavy DUN-DA-DUNNN drive, the lead guitarist leaned forward and started to scream the lyrics into the microphone—Dipper couldn't make out a word—and again the crowd started spontaneously dancing. Pam dragged Lee to a relatively clear spot and they started to, well, jump around rhythmically. Wendy yelled, "Yeah, Lee! Get your boog on, man!"
But . . . she made no sign that she wanted to dance, and Dipper sighed in a relieved way. It wasn't exactly his kind of song.
Band followed band. At one point, Wendy nudged Dipper. "Dad and three guys are leavin'," she told him. "It's six o'clock. They're goin' to the Skull Fracture for beer and burgers, bet you anything!" She waited until Manly Dan had climbed into some guy's Humvee—it sank visibly when he climbed in—and then hugged Dipper. "We're in the clear until they get back," she said.
And so, though at the moment the band was Pocket Full of Bees and the tunes had no recognizable beat or melody, Dipper and Wendy got up and sort of danced, to Nate's and Lee's cheers and Cindy's "Be OK if he was, like, taller."
Mabel made sure that the guys of Sev'ral Timez were in their trailer—Stan had lent them one—and fed. "OK," she said, wiping her sweaty face with a towel. "We've rehearsed until you're perfect. I want you guys to get lots of rest now. You lead off tomorrow at three o'clock! Any problems?"
Deep Chris said, "Yo, girl, you think we're competition for this metal stuff? Like, compared to them, we're mellow!"
"Music is about everything!" Mabel reminded them. "Tomorrow the crowd's gonna be all wound up for you guys! Don't try to imitate anybody else. Be true to your sound, and you got 'em!"
Greggy C. raised his hands. "Mabel, girl, that's chill, but you know, we are imitating BABBA when we do the tune with the Multibear."
"You're not imitating!" Mabel said. This was the eleventh time so far that she'd explained. "That number is a tribute to BABBA. Don't worry about it. By the time Multibear comes on stage, you'll have all the girls in the audience on your side. And all the girls love BABBA! Well, all the girls and my brother. OK, the caterer is coming with your pizza and sodas. It's paid for, and I gave Deep Chris five bucks. What do you do with it, Deep Chris?"
"I do not eat it!" Deep Chris said proudly, and the other members of Sev'ral Timez high-fived him.
"Yes, good," Mabel said. "But who do you give it to? Think!"
"Um—yo, got it, Santa Claus!"
"Good answer!" Leggy P. said encouragingly.
"Yeah," Mabel said. "But remember, Santa will be in disguise. Whoever brings the pizza is Santa, and you give Santa the five dollars and say—?"
"Yo, dude, don't eat this!" Deep Chris responded brightly.
"Or maybe 'This is a tip, dude,' Mabel suggested. When Deep Chris just stared at her with blue eyes like question marks, she sighed. "Whatever. Just tip the delivery person. OK, wander around if you want to, but don't go onstage. You can visit the other acts, that's fine. But when you get sleepy, you don't head for the mountains. Where do you sleep?"
The guys huddled, and then Deep Chris said, "We come back here and sleep on the bunks."
"Very good!" Mabel said, tossing him a bit of jerky treat, which he snapped right out of the air. "I got you guys two cell phones. I've saved my number in both. Deep Chris and Chubby Z. both know how to dial it, so if there's any trouble—what do we do?"
"Hide in the back of the cave!" Creggy G. exclaimed.
"No, no," Deep Chris said. "We dial your number, girl, and we—"
They leaned in and harmonized: "Call on you, girl, we always call on you!"
"You've still got it," Mabel said. "Have fun, and I will see you tomorrow at nine and I will bring your breakfasts."
She stepped out of the RV, rolling her eyes. She still liked Sev'ral Timez, and she still now and then listened to their music, and they were fun to hang out with for about five minutes at a stretch—but she needed to get away from them. She saw some musicians she recognized—Wretched Stretch's drummer, Thuds, chatting up the keyboardist for Five Slices of Cold Mouse Pizza, who probably was a girl, the pink-scarved Duke the Dude from Scarves Indoors, whose black hair had thinned some since 2012, a few others. One of them, who played guitar for a new band called White Gorilla in a Rainbow Wig, stopped her and asked about Sev'ral Timez. "They really got back together?"
"Well, yeah," Mabel said. "They never actually broke up. They just went on a long retreat with, uh, their guru."
"Oh. Beatles vibe, then."
"Um—sure," Mabel said. "Whatever."
As she made her way through the impromptu trailer park where the groups had set up their buses and vans, she saw a familiar one. Love God was back. And that reminded her—
"Man, I forgot Thompson! I gotta go out and work the crowd and find some lonely lady who deserves him. That bar should be low enough!"
And, cheerfully, she made her way past security and into the audience, now mostly chowing down on sandwiches and snacks. Nobody was on stage just then—a fifteen-minute break—except for Loopy Groupie, a rangy DJ from out of town, who was reading announcements: "OK, uh, whoever left a big dog in your Datsun, not cool, dude, you can claim your pet at the Gravity Falls pound on Monday morning. That's Monday at nine AM, the pound near the dog park. Remember, though dogs are not allowed in the dog park. And, OK, take this with a grain of salt if you want to, but there's a warning about the brown Smile Dip. Do not eat the brown Smile Dip . . . ."
Mabel stopped to say hi to a few people, including Pacifica and Adam, who reminded her a bit uncomfortably of a slightly more buff and bespectacled Dipper, and to a few girls she didn't know, but all of them were either hooked up or not interested in meeting a guy.
And then she saw a stocky, but not unattractive, girl on the fringe of the crowd, looking around furtively as she moved toward the fence. Mabel wondered Is she going to climb OVER the fence? Did she sneak in and now is sneaking out? However, the girl wore a green plastic bracelet, so that seemed—Oh. Oh ho! A fried chicken leg lay in the grass there, obviously dropped by some attendee and not disposed of.
The girl sat down, and a moment later she began to eat the chicken leg.
"Match made," Mabel murmured with a smile. She went over and plopped herself down next to the girl, who looked about fifteen or sixteen. "Hi!" she said to the girl. "I'm Mabel. Who are you?"
"Um. Hi," the girl said, sounding flustered. "I'm Vanilla? Well, my real name is Vivian, but I hate it. Hi, Mabel."
"Are you from around here?" Mabel asked.
"Um, Mossy Run," Vanilla said. "But when I heard about Woodstick, you know—and Sev'ral Timez! I saw a poster today that said they'll be here! I used to love them! I came to the last concert they gave. It was here, you know."
"I know," Mabel said. "Vanilla, are you here all on your own?"
"Well, yeah," the girl said. "My parents are divorced, and I'm spending the summer with my dad, you know, and I got my license, and he doesn't care what I do, and—"
"I see," Mabel said, cutting her off and letting her take another bite from the drumstick. "Vanilla, I always say you enjoy music better if you're with friends. What are you, sixteen?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Great. I'm from Gravity Falls—well, practically—and I have a bunch of friends your age who are great people. You'd love to hang out with them. Finish that and then let's go meet them."
"I—I don't know—"
"Vanilla, I know what you're thinking, but my friends are safe. They'll enjoy meeting you, and if you think you're not going to get along or anything, just come back down here."
"My dad says to be careful who I trust."
"And your dad is doing his job as a parent. Props to him! Hmm. Vanilla, if I had someone vouch for me, would that be OK?"
"Uh—who? I don't really know anybody here—"
"How about Sev'ral Timez?" Mabel asked. "I happen to be their new manager."
"Oh, wow!"
The music had resumed—not quite so loud now, with a run of a capella performers—when Mabel and a pleasantly dazed Vanilla made their way up the hill. Mabel spotted Wendy and Dipper and then saw the others. "Hi, gang!" she said, coming up. "Guys, this is Vanilla Spottlebeam from Mossy Run, and she's here all alone. Is it cool if she hangs with you?"
"Sure, whatever," Wendy said, smiling.
"Great!" Mabel said. "OK, Vanilla, this is Thompson. He's managing the local movie theater, and he's an expert on snacks. He'll introduce you around. Thompson, Vanilla. I think you guys have a lot in common."
"Mabes," Wendy said, "Me and Dip are about to go grab some dinner. You want to come with us?"
"Sure!" Mabel said. "I'm hungry. Wrangling musicians is a tougher job than I thought it was."
"OK," Wendy said, getting up. "Come on and we'll see if we can catch the tram. It stops in town in front of the History Museum."
"If not," Dipper said, "it's just a fifteen-minute walk from here."
"Not walk," Wendy groaned. "These sandals were a major mistake. My feet are hurting!"
"We'll take the tram," Mabel said. "Or catch a ride."
They did catch the tram and had tacos, rice, and beans at Hermanos Brothers—though Abuelita's cooking had spoiled them for other Mexican food, especially Hermanos Brothers, where the chef was Scandinavian. Then Mabel planned to head back to the festival, also on the tram, but Wendy and Dipper decided to give it a pass. "Not many groups that I like on this evening," Wendy said. "Tomorrow's gonna be crazy rockin', though!"
"Can't wait to see what you wear," Mabel told her.
"Wait, you're wearing a different outfit?" Dipper asked.
"Yeah, dude! 'Cause it ain't cool to wear the same threads too long!"
Mabel said, "Take a hint, Dipper!"
"I don't wear the same clothes!" Dipper insisted. "Well, I stopped when I turned thirteen. It's just that all my outfits are the same! It saves time!"
"Dude, wear whatever you want," Wendy said.
"Nope!" Mabel said firmly. "I'll fix him up for you, Wendy."
They boarded the tram, not as crowded now in the afternoon with the festival in full gear, and rode first to Woodstick, then to the Shack. Soos came in for dinner—"Schedule for the night's one tram an hour," he told them—and Abuelita cooked for him, herself, and Little Soos.
Meanwhile, Dipper and Wendy went upstairs. "Mind if I flop on your bed for a little bit?" Wendy asked. "Been a long day already!"
Dipper laughed and sat on the foot of the bed as she lay down, sighing. "Funny. You can go all day chopping trees."
"Yeah, well, 'cause that's normal, you know? Woodstick's, like, a once-in-a-long-while thing. Wears me down faster, for some reason. I had a good time. You?"
"Hey," Dipper said, "I always do when you're around."
Wendy yawned. "That's sweet. I ought to drag my butt out to the car and go check on my brothers, but just lying down here is so nice."
Dipper took her slim ankle in his hand. It IS nice. You look so fantastic, Wendy!
—Thanks, Dip. Your outfit's great. What happened to your shades?
Dipper reached up to his head. Huh! Lost them somewhere! Doesn't matter, Mabel picked them up at the second-hand shop and they were so scratched I couldn't even look through them.
—Wish I could stay here tonight. One day, Dip—what are you doing?
"What's wrong?" he asked out loud. "Don't you think you'll like it?"
—Well—it's not like I'd hate it, but—
"Just relax."
She giggled. "Dipper!"
"Trust me," he whispered.
Really, he had to remove only two articles of her clothing. Then he began to stroke her skin, very gently.
How's that?
—Nice. It's kinda nice.
It gets nicer.
Gazing at her face, he began to move faster, with more pressure and deeper strokes. She sighed and then gasped.
-Oh, my God, Dip! That's incredible! Harder! I'd like it rougher!
Tell me if I hurt you.
She arched her back and breathed faster, beginning to moan a little. Dipper pressed in with lots of force, then began to knead.
—There! Oh, yeah! Right there. Yeah, go, Dipper, that's the spot, that's it! Oh, that's so great! Yeah! That feels fantastic! How'd you learn that?
Well, I practiced on Mom and Mabel.
When it ended, after about ten minutes, Wendy said, "Dude! That was freakin' incredible!"
"It was your first time," Dipper said. "I could tell. From now on, whenever you want it—well, you always know where to find me!"
"Man," Wendy said with a long, happy sigh. "I never realized how wonderful a foot massage could feel!"