Stan led me into the Mystery Shack, gesturing toward a worn spot on the floor beside the sofa.
"Take a seat there."
I glanced at the dusty floor and decided standing was the better option.
"I'd rather stand, if that's alright."
Stan settled onto the sofa, cracked open a can of Pitt Cola, and took a sip. After wiping his glasses, he drummed his fingers on the armrest and focused his gaze on me.
"Alright, spill it. How'd you dig up my brother's history? And the six-finger thing? Don't play games – you look too young to have known him."
Long gone? Stanford? That didn't make sense. I'd seen him in the future. But now wasn't the time to challenge Stan. I had to tread carefully.
"I did my research, Mr. Pines. Stanford Filbrick Pines, graduated from Backupsmore University with a notable Ph.D. There's a documented history of him being a prodigy in high school, and he made waves in academia. He authored a well-known thesis that earned him a hefty $100,000."
Stan's irritation was palpable. "Fine, fine. You're not a complete dunce. But...Ford, I mean..I could've used a fake sixth finger! There are photos of Ford online with those six fingers, but those could also be me using a fake sixth finger!"
"I understand the skepticism, Mr. Pines, but those online pictures could be easily doctored. Besides, it's not just about appearances."
Stan seemed to deflate a bit, especially when I mentioned the perpetual motion machine.
"...Alright, why hasn't anyone caught on to my little charade then?"
"Your brother wasn't exactly a headline-maker. After Backupsmore, he faded from the spotlight. People lost interest. Except for me. I found his work fascinating and managed to piece together his identity based on his contributions."
Stan's eyes narrowed. "So, why work in this tourist trap?"
I was ready for this question. "The Mystery Shack might seem kitschy, but beneath the surface, it's a treasure trove of oddities and artifacts. I'm all about building a unique high school resume, and there's nowhere like this. Saying I worked here sets me apart."
Stan seemed intrigued. "So, it's not just for the thrills?"
I shook my head, adopting a more serious tone. "No, it's about gaining experiences that showcase my skills and interests. I want to learn from you, Mr. Pines, and contribute to this venture."
Stan's face remained stern, but a glimmer of something almost like approval flickered.
"Alright, you've got guts. I'll give you that."
Time to push further. "Is there a specific role you have in mind? I'm ready to start."
Stan leaned back, sizing me up. "You've got energy, so let's see if you can handle the counter. Deal with tourists, take their money, and hand out those pamphlets."
"Absolutely, Mr. Pines. I'm a quick learner and good with people."
Stan grunted, still unsure. "Prove it. Get behind the counter and start. Tourists will be here soon."
Excitement and nerves surged within me. "Will do. Thanks for this opportunity."
"Don't make me regret it," he cautioned before taking another sip of his cola.
"Before I leave you to it," Stan added, standing, "one rule: no touching the merchandise. Got it?"
"I'm on it, Mr. Pines. No touching."
His gaze was intense. "Some of this stuff might look like junk, but it's worth more than you'd believe."
"I won't mess with anything, sir."
"Good. I'll check on you later."
As he walked away, I exhaled, feeling a mix of triumph and anticipation. I'd made it – thanks to a mix of charm and deception.
Now I just had to wait for Stan's great-nephew and great-niece to show up. And while I waited, I could hear the customers' chatter, the excitement building.
Time to put my imagination to work.
Stan observed from a distance as Ray handled the counter, his initial skepticism now overshadowed by curiosity. The kid had audacity, that much was clear. Unearthing Stan's past and then throwing threats – not a common occurrence.
Ray engaged tourists with a calculated charm, effortlessly weaving tales about the bizarre merchandise. The visitors seemed captivated, their intrigue transforming into genuine interest. Stan could predict Ray's moves – urging them to spend more, to buy into the mystery.
A woman eyed an odd necklace. "How much for this, young man?"
Ray leaned in, his tone conspiratorial. "That's a rare piece from the Amazon rainforest. Tribal craftsmanship. Normally $50, but for you, I can do $70."
Intrigued, the woman hesitated. "If it's rare..."
Ray's grin widened. "No other piece like it. Guaranteed."
Stan raised an eyebrow. The kid was a born salesman, exploiting tourists' fascination with the strange. Ray was cunning, a skilled cheat – a talent Stan knew well.
As the day unfolded, Ray's finesse grew. A couple considered peculiar figurines, and Ray engaged them, his tone confidential.
"Check these out – limited edition set from the Himalayas. Only $100 each."
The exclusivity tempted them. "Limited edition, you say?"
Ray nodded, persuasive. "Exclusive deal, right here. A steal at this price."
Despite reservations, Stan was impressed. Ray expertly stoked desire, encouraged spending beyond intention. It was a valuable skill, one Stan had mastered himself.
Sunset approached, and Stan leaned against a wall, a grin forming. Maybe he'd misjudged the kid. While Ray's threats weren't forgotten, his resourcefulness shone. The potential was undeniable – a spark of Pines ingenuity.
Ray's voice broke his reverie, engaging a family over mystical crystals. "Feel the energy in these crystals. Infused with ancient magic from Transylvania. Yours for $80."
Stan grinned wider, acknowledging Ray's lying prowess. The kid was seizing the opportunity. As the last visitors left, Ray shot Stan a triumphant glance. This partnership might yield unexpected benefits.
"So, Mister, want this Amazonian artifact for only a hundred bucks?"
"Yes, all 10!"
Stan's mind clicked. Ray had just sold 10 worthless rocks... for $1000!
"...Haha! Money! That's what I'm talking about! Soos, come see this! The kid's a natural!"
Ray had transformed from an unwelcome intruder to a money-making magician, an asset in Stan's eyes. Something good with money.
"Ray, my boy! Come over here!"
"...Whoa."
After a wave of customers, Stan sauntered over to me, his grin wider than the Cheshire Cat's. He opened his arms for a hug, and I hesitated, trying to dodge the not-so-inviting scent of his armpits. But avoiding his bear-like embrace was a futile endeavor.
"Oof... So, does this mean you're really hiring me for a part-time gig?"
"Hiring? Oh, no, no, no... We're a family here, Ray! You're practically my long-lost son!" Stan's eyes seemed to sparkle, likely more at the sight of the money rolling in than at the prospect of family bonding. "And you know what, I'll even let you choose a piece of merchandise as a welcome gift!"
"Merchandise? Yeah, I think I'll pass on that."
Who would've thought that my knack for twisting the truth would turn out to be this handy? Fleecing these unsuspecting customers was almost as simple as taking candy from a baby. In all fairness, their intelligence didn't seem to be soaring, considering they willingly entered this peculiar establishment.
"So, what about working something like 13 hours a day at minimum wage? How's that sound?"
"13 hours?! Minimum wage?! You're a lifesaver, kid!"
Stan finally got around to drafting up my work contract. I wasn't exactly sure if what he was scribbling was legally binding for a teenager, but honestly, laws were just a minor speed bump on my path to survival. I was here to ensure my existence, so no legal red tape was going to hold me back.
"Great, great! Right now, I'm not losing any sleep over you knowing my true identity! Ha-ha-ha! Oops, didn't mean to blurt that out..."
"Yeah, okay. So, am I done for the day? Or is there more to tackle?"
"Done? No, no, no... First, let's introduce you to the motley crew of misfits who keep this place running," Stan exclaimed with a mischievous glint in his eye. He beckoned me to follow him toward a room adjacent to the main shop floor.
As we entered, I took a quick scan of the room's inhabitants. There was a portly guy wearing a cap and a bright, cheerful expression – Soos, I guessed. I heard Stan shouting his name outside the window while scanning on me. And then there she was – Wendy, with her iconic flannel shirt and a nonchalant demeanor.
"Soos, Wendy, this here's Ray," Stan announced, grinning like a proud father showing off his child's first steps. "Ray, meet Soos Ramirez, the handyman extraordinaire, and Wendy Corduroy, the...rebelling teen."
I nodded at them, a polite smile on my face. "Hey, nice to meet you both."
"Hey, dude! Welcome to the Shack!" Soos boomed with a friendly wave.
Wendy turned her head, and her eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Ray? No way! Long time no see."
I blinked, not expecting that reaction. "Wendy? Oh, wow, yeah, it's been a while."
We shared a brief, knowing smile. Wendy was...well, you know, that kind of friend who's not exactly a best friend but not distant either, that friend you talk to and hang out with occasionally. That was Wendy in my memories until the end of middle school.
...Her appearance changed a lot though. Mostly in height. And she ditched the pigtails. Ah, she also seemed to have traded her school uniform for that laid-back work attire. According to my recollection, we ended up going to the same high school, but oddly, I don't recall having many interactions with her there. Probably because she wasn't really the academic type, more of a free spirit. Too free, that's the problem though.
"Stan's pretty intense dude. You should run away when you can," Wendy said, her casual tone bringing back a rush of familiarity.
"Wendy! Don't you dare try to fool Ray. Ray! You'll be working the counter mostly, but don't hesitate to ask Soos or Wendy if you need help. And remember, no touching the merchandise!" Stan reminded, wagging a finger at me.
"Got it, no touching. I promise," I assured him.
As Stan left the room, Soos grinned widely and gave me a thumbs-up. "Dude, just have fun and roll with it. The Shack's like a rollercoaster, you never know what's gonna happen next!"
Wendy smirked and leaned against a nearby shelf. "So, you're here to join this mess, huh?"
"Seems like it," I replied with a chuckle. Though this was boring. "What about you?"
She shrugged, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. "Guess it's better than hanging out in a boring job somewhere else. Plus, I can leave the work to Soos and just do nothing here."
Before the conversation could continue, Stan's voice boomed over the intercom. "Attention, everyone! Tomorrow, my great nephew Dipper and my great niece Mabel will be visiting the Shack. So, let's make sure everything's spick and span!"
Dipper and Mabel? Stan's great nephew and niece were coming here? That meant the characters from the show were going to show up soon.
-Tick! Tick! Tick!
"...Yeah, I get it, I get it...I should protect them...or at least keep them alive, right?"
"You said something, Ray?"
"Ah, it's nothing. it's nothing."
...Memento Mori ticked again inside my mind. This time, I really needed to keep this story straight. No bad ending, No danger, No nothing. Let's keep this show...A fun kid's show.
"With a happy ending."