By the time it occurred to Dipper that maybe walking around the house with his nose buried in a book wasn't the best idea, it was too late. He had already tripped over the small pig napping in the middle of the den. Waddles popped up with a start, grunted confusedly, and without a hint of ill-will the docile little animal plopped himself right back on the floor.
"Sorry, buddy." The boy gave him an apologetic pat on the head, tucked Journal Number 3 under his arm and then continued off toward the kitchen. His stomach rumbled in anticipation of a mid-afternoon snack.
"Okay, so what do we have here..." The boy pursed his lips while he browsed the fridge's offerings. Suddenly he could feel hot breath on the back of his shin. Dipper turned around and met a beady gaze.
"So you're awake now, huh?" He remarked distractedly to the hopeful swine. "C'mon, you know the rules. You get dinner same time as always in a couple hours."
Gently he pushed the nosy little pig out of his way. He then fished out a handful of carrot sticks and plodded back out of the kitchen, or at least attempted to. Dipper took two steps before he tripped and tumbled hard onto the floor with an audible smack.
"Oh, c'mon!" He craned his neck around and saw that he had tripped over Waddles. "How did you get-"
Dipper heard a hungry oink from nearby. Either he was hearing things, or Waddles had somehow mastered the art of throwing his voice. The tween nearly gave himself whiplash as he twisted his gaze and laid eyes on another fat little pig happily gobbling up the scattered carrot sticks. He nearly blew a mental fuse on the spot. There was no denying the fact that there were definitely two completely identical animals in the room with him right now.
As if things couldn't be confounding enough, he watched a third trundle in. At first, he just remained where he still lay on the floor, swamped in confusion.
"How did you…." It was then that he noticed something. All three pigs were a near dead match for his twin's beloved pet with one major exception. They had curiously faded pink hides, as if they had stepped out from an old colored photograph. This realization promptly vanquished his bewilderment as everything made complete sense.
"Mabel?" His annoyed yell rang through the Shack.
"Yeah?" She answered back with a forcefully casual tone of voice. Dipper could always tell when she was trying to play innocent. Without further ado, he hauled himself to his feet and marched straight upstairs to the attic bedroom.
"You haven't been messing around with the copier in Grunkle Stan's office, have you?" He asked loudly.
"...Noooo." She answered back only after a pregnant telltale pause.
Mabel..." Dipper groaned as he finally reached the top floor. He pushed open the door, and was confronted with the sight of his sister happily sitting smack in the center of a herd at least a dozen chubby pot-bellied pigs, all totally indistinguishable from another. The boy folded his arms let out a mighty huff of exasperation. Caught red-handed, his sister grinned sheepishly as she hugged the original Waddles close.
"Okay…," She conceded. "Maybe a little bit..."