The summers in the Pacific Northwest were often mild, temperate, and gentle. They had low highs and high lows, meaning that even at it's coldest, they were pleasant and moderate in comparison to many other regions across the United States. This was often the case for the forests surrounding Gravity Falls. Should one walk down the forested paths and nature trails that crisscrossed the mountains and hills, it would be easy to find peace, and quiet.
For a teenager sitting outside of a tourist attraction with a world-record for red-flag warnings, and boy spoke on his phone, enjoying the kindly weather.
Then, loud as day, the speaker snapped, "You're going to do what?"
Dipper Pines had flinched from the loud exclamation. Wincing, he returned it back to his ear. "Stay up here, yeah," he confirmed, "It's kind of crazy, and doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but Grunkle Stan wasn't dead! Mabel and I figured out what happened, and things are looking good up here," Dipper told his mom through the phone, sitting outside by the gift shop door.
Not thirty minutes ago had he and his sister, Mabel, returned from the highway, about to drive home to the normalcy that is the rest of the world. The three had just gone inside with their bags when Dipper had received a call from his mother. As he rushed outside to take the call, Dipper told Mabel that she had better call their dad as well. Realizing that their return home had already been delayed, he argued it would be better to let them know that they're staying for a bit longer than previously expected.
The phone, speaking for Dipper's mother, said, "You sure your Grand Uncle isn't just guilting you on staying up there?" his mom asked, the flavors of suspicion ebbing through her voice. "This sounds exactly like the kind of thing he would do if he wanted some free workers."
"Mom, this isn't just about Grunkle Stan," Dipper replied, looking behind him to the lit window above. Just an outline, Mabel paced around, talking on the landline phone. Dipper turned back to his own cellphone, "and there's something else going on up here too."
"Dipper, is this one of those stories you wrote about?" his mom asked after a pause.
"Mom-" he started, but Dipper bit his tongue. He was not interested in another verbal debate about the truth of his prior stay at Gravity Falls – a long unresolved and contentious topic at best. Other than resolving to explain them away as fictions based off real-life events, no one had believed Dipper or Mabel regarding what had happened.
Perhaps his tone registered, for his mother relented. "Okay, okay," she sighed, "so you need to figure something out up there. Do you want me to tell Pizza Asteroid that you've been pre-occupied with something important? Maybe they'll buy jury duty..."
He snorted. "I'm not old enough for jury duty," Dipper told her.
"Oh, I'll figure it out," she told him with dismission, "how long do you think it'll take?"
Dipper looked around. The sun rested just below the horizon, and the orange glow from the sky above and between the many trees of the deep woods cast a warm light around him. In truth, he wanted to tell her he was going to be here all summer. The mystery presented could, in fact, take that long. He wanted to spend some quality time back in Gravity Falls. Dipper also knew that he did need to go back eventually. The internal dissonance of wanting to gain adult recognition grappling his need to resolve another mystery was strong. He combated it by pulling out the strange clue he had – the blue cylinder. The battery-like object quelled his own irritations, and he shrugged.
"Two weeks?" he guessed.
His mother hummed. "That's a bit of summer you're losing," she warned him.
Dipper grumbled. "It's not that bad!" Dipper said back, "I mean, all I would be doing back home is waiting tables and flipping pizzas around, or whatever. Not exactly a job with a lot of training needed. It won't be that bad if I stay up here for a bit longer."
"As long as you think you can afford to do this," his mother reminded him. He let out a quick 'mmhmm' in reply, deciding it better not to refute her further. She continued, "how's Mabel?"
Dipper snorted. "She's, uh, herself," Dipper said politely and his mother chuckled in response.
"It's been a while since you two last saw each other, hasn't it?"
"Yeah," Dipper nodded sadly.
His mother seemed to note the sadness in his voice well, and she switched her tone. "You know what, that's fair. Take your time up there. I'll tell your manager-to-be that you have important business that needs you there for now. Enjoy your time with your sister, and don't get into trouble slash get hurt!" His mom warned him and he happily chuckled.
"Okay, okay, mom," Dipper agreed. "Love you, okay?"
"Tell your sister that I love you both!" Miss Pines called through the phone one last time before he hung up.
Dipper looked around the woods, peering around for anything of interest. Though nothing strange had come crawling out yet, his awareness for the weirdness was always on alert around here.
More so weird, it still struck him as weird to be back. This had been such an important place. The Mystery Shack - or Manor as Grunkle Stan planned it to be, was a pinnacle of adventure to Dipper. It had shaped how he viewed the world around him, from the important mundane to the unnecessary things in life. It was a realm where life and death could be on the line, and his wits, his sisters instincts, and his friends aid always turned the tide in their favor. So many times had something like that happened that he almost lost count. There he was, back in the center of such a dangerous, important place. He worried if this brief stay at Gravity Falls would add to those death-defying moments he came to associate with this town. He already had escaped from a desperately crazed treasure hunter and his two speaking dogs; what else could be waiting in the near future?
"Dipper!"
Dipper craned his head directly above him, and Mabel peered down at him from the attic window she had just shoved open.
"Dad says hi, doofus!" she yelled down at him.
"Hi dad!" Dipper called and waved to his sister. She giggled and popped back inside. Dipper smiled and looked once more at the gravel path before him that lead to the main road. He then stood and turned to the door. Dipper walked inside and through the closed down gift shop, passing the shadowed, overpriced products his grand uncle would try to sell on a daily basis. He passed by the living room entryway, where Grunkle Stan sat, lazily sprawled out on his chair. He faced the glowing television, passively invested with whatever the channel displayed.
Dipper paused, and leaned on the hallway frame. "Catching up on The Duchess Approves?" Dipper asked with a knowing grin to his Uncle, who stared at the television.
"Ha! I wish they had that on instead of this crud. Can you believe they'd put all this other stuff on instead of genuinely good cinematic classics?" he told his grand nephew as he motioned to the TV.
"The remote is right there," Dipper pointed to the remote sitting atop the television.
"Yeah, I forgot it when I turned the TV on. But- it's this chair!" Grunkle Stan grunted, indicating towards the loveseat, "as soon as you sit down," Grunkle Stan attempted to raise up, and found himself struggling considerably, "see? You go no where!"
The TV proudly announced, "We now return to 'Our Feelings Guurrl: Problems of Privileged Teenagers in Suburbia'."
Stan looked mortified. "Dipper, if you have an compassion for an old man, you will hand me that remote," Grunkle Stan begged.
The TV wasn't done. "On the Channel Formerly Known as Learning and Stuff," the announcer concluded.
"Oh god!" Grunkle Stan clapped his hands against his ears.
"Here," Dipper sighed. He stepped over and tossed his Grunkle Stan the remote.
"Oh, sweet release!" Grunkle Stan sighed and instantly changed the channel. The TV flashed again and again until Grunkle Stan spotted a particular show set in a pawn shop. "Whoa, what's this?" Stan asked.
"Oh, that's Broker-Nova," Dipper told him, "some of my friends are into it."
"Brokers, huh?" Stan asked, cocking an eyebrow high as he leaned in to listen.
A visitor of the filmed show explained, "This here is a priceless edition of George Washington's boy-scout ring," a visitor of the televised placed down an open box of a historic ring, "and here are sixteen documents claiming its authenticity."
The show cut to one of the owners in a separate interview. "This is a really great item just to see for myself," the owner explained, "I really wanted to have this in my shop, but I had to ask myself- was sixteen documents really enough?" the owner shook his head, and the scene shifted back to the shop owner and visitor, "How much do you want for it?" the owner asked the visitor.
"Six thousand dollars is what a museum offered me," the visitor stated.
"I'll give you sixty bucks, cash," the store manager told him up-front.
The owner of the ring looked hard at the shop owner, and sweat started to form aside his head as he clearly had a great mental struggle before him. "You have yourself a deal!" the visitor gleefully answered, and shook the man's hand.
Stanley Pines roared, "Hahaha! That guy got stiffed! I love this show!" Grunkle Stan roared, and leaned closer to the television.
"I kind of figured you would," Dipper said, and left the room. Climbing up the stairs, he heard his Uncle laugh harder at the television, and wondered if he had made a mistake by introducing his Grunkle to that show. Stowing that concerned thought with a shrug, he arrived onto the second level floor. Before him was the door to his room, and he yawned as he swung the door open.
There was a piercing scream. "Gack! Dipper!" Mabel yelped as he barely got his foot through the door.
Panic roiling through his blood, Dipper took a wide stance, looking quickly around the ceiling and walls. "What!? Where!?" he shouted, thinking he had just come across something sneaking into their room. Then he spotted Mabel, and red deeply red in the cheeks.
"Get out!" Mabel screamed, holding a robe up to her nude body.
Dipper shrieked, and tried spinning to leave, instead hitting his face on the side of the doorframe. "I'm sorry!" Dipper apologized hastily and covered his eyes and flew out the room. With his eyes covered he immediately ran into the wall ahead of him without a moment of hesitation. Collapsing to the side, he groaned. "Ow," he mumbled, holding his nose tentatively, and the door behind him slammed shut.
Dipper waited for what felt like an hour for his sister to finish getting changed inside the room before he knocked. From within, her heard, "It is safe to enter," as his sister's voice floated from inside.
"Right," he said, taking a deep breath. Dipper hesitantly opened the door and slowly peeked around. Mabel sat on her bed in brightly colored pajama pants and her old floppy-disk t-shirt, reading happily into a magazine about fashion for dances. Dipper cleared his throat. "So... er... mom says she loves you," he told her as he robotically walked to his own bed, across the room from her own.
Entirely nonplussed, Mabel smiled. "How is she?" Mabel asked, looking up briefly from her magazine to her brother.
Dipper, stiffly organizing his clothes and materials, wasn't entirely sure how to handle himself after what had just happened. "Uh, she's good. Her job now has her working a lot, but she misses you," Dipper said through a tightened jaw as he then walked to his bed and sat down, looking dead ahead and blank.
"That's nice. Hey, check this out!" Mabel twisted around the magazine she read. Pushed into his vision was an advertisement for a pair of pants of varying color and a lot of electrical wiring. Mabel wiggled her eyebrows and asked, "What do you think? You can plug it into your computer, and program the colors it changes to based on the amount of steps you take! It's only rated a three out of five on the fire-hazard scale! It even comes with dances pre-programmed!"
Having taken his chance to look at the advertisement, Dipper turned to stare at the ceiling above him. "Yeah," Dipper said distantly.
"That's what I thought!" Mabel pulled it back excitedly, only to push another outlandish picture, this time of shoes that detect songs that are playing aloud, and then plays that same music with them, "we should totally get these in bulk."
Now slowly nodding, Dipper once again said, "Yeah."
"Wow! You're feeling this tonight, aren't you?" Mabel laughed and flipped through the magazine once more, and gasped, "what about this!?" she held ahead easily the most crazy object being advertised: plates, forks, spoons and knives that could only be used while the person using them was in motion. "Perfect for dance parties!" she exclaimed.
Third times the charm, with without any charm, Dipper again replied with, "Yeah."
Mabel frowned. "Okay, two is one thing, but three in a row? You always had something to say about these cool gadgets. What gives?" Mabel put the magazine down and stared carefully at her brother, who was initially unresponsive.
Dipper closed his eyes firmly. "I'm currently trying to focus on nothing. That way I can burn out the image of my sister, nearly naked," he said, not daring to look at her, fearing a full focus glance to her would spur the memory he dared not have.
She snorted. "Aw, come on Dipper," Mabel tried assuring him, "you have to relax! That kind of thing happens with siblings! If we'd been living together for these past three years, you'd have gotten over it by now."
"But we haven't," Dipper finally dared to look at his sister. He was gratified with her normal appearance not providing flashbacks, "and I really don't need that to happen again, you know."
Mabel waved a dismissive hand. "Dip, you just need to roll with it. I mean, you were totally ready to charge into Grunkle Stan when he was in the middle of a shower," Mabel reminded him.
His cheeks grew pink. "That was for a noble cause," he growled in reply, "finding out the identity of that tattoo was important!" Mabel just laughed and pointed teasingly at him. He grumbled, and relented. "Okay, fine!" he snapped at her teasing, "I'll get over it, but I don't want to have to go through that trauma again."
Mabel calmed her laughing and peered disapprovingly at him. "Trauma, humph. I'm not even on the gross scale like Grunkle Stan," she warned him, but Dipper had already begun his thinking.
He scratched his chin. "Maybe what we need are a set of rules for this room," Dipper nodded to himself as he thought out loud, "that way, as long as we both follow them, nothing like that can happen."
"Uggh," Mabel groaned and fell back against her bed, already unenthused about the idea, "c'mon Dipper, it was just one hiccup in our stay. Can we not write a whole 'Declaration of Lame-Vacation' just over this little incident?"
Though he heard her, he hadn't listened. Dipper's mind was already hard at work. "Here," Dipper said to himself as he withdrew a notebook and pen from his backpack, "we can start a list of potential rules. Let's start with the obvious," he said, and looked to Mabel. She sighed and put a pillow on her face. "Mabel, this is a good idea if we want some sibling civility."
"But I don't want ruuules," she whined through the pillow.
"Well I think it's a good idea," Dipper said, "maybe... rule one," he started writing, "always knock."
"Whaaat?" Mabel shot up and stared at Dipper, "you mean every time I have to enter my room, I have to wait, knock, and then, if I get an answer, I can enter?"
"It makes sure if either of us are inside, we have the chance to get fair warning," Dipper argued.
"Fiiiine," Mabel huffed, "wait, what if no one's inside? Do I just wait forever?" she asked with an air of mystery and fear.
"Easy- five second rule," Dipper nodded to his idea, "and that's an amendment to number one."
Mabel again fell back to her bed, her face twisted in anguish and disgust. While she had always missed her brother while they had been separated, there was a total freedom to having a room that entirely belonged to her. Not a single rule would be written for her living space. Her dad had 'house rules' that applied to her room, but she bent them as much as she could, usually getting to the better of her dad's patience. This would usually end in a heated debate between the two.
"How about 'rule six'," Dipper continued. Mabel was shocked and horrified that he had already, on his own, come up with four more rules before this new one. Dipper explained, "clothing that is clean is to be put away in an orderly fashion, and dirty clothes must remain on the side of the room for said occupant."
Mabel let out a pained moan. "Oh, c'mon Dipper!" Mabel shot up again while scowling, "I can tolerate half of that, but not the whole whopping package."
He cast her a smarmy glance. "I feel like there's a joke somewhere for what you just said," Dipper grinned faintly.
"Shuddup," Mabel told him, "kill the one about orderly clothes having to be put away quickly and you've got a deal."
"What, so you can leave your clean clothes in a pile and never put them away?" Dipper asked her bitterly.
"You want me to throw my dirty bras all over the place!?" she demanded. Dipper's mouth fell open in horror. She added "Mabel's inna a corner! She'll do it, man!"
"Okay! Amendment approved. Just dirty clothes," Dipper took a deep, worried breath as he wrote it down.
Mabel rolled her eyes. "Dude, let's just, like, deal with each other like normal siblings and stuff- these rules are going to be crazy in the end if we always have to follow them," Mabel asked pleadingly.
He shook his head. "This is for the better. We'll have less to fight about if it's on paper already," he explained. He looked over, and saw her pouting. "Imagine – we get into a dispute. Wait, what's that?" he said with grand exaggeration, "Who's in the wrong? If only I knew," Dipper asked around like he was uncertain of a answer to an unspoken question, "why look at that, this set of room rules already tells us who? Wow!"
Mabel, simmering in a grumpy, dissatisfied cross-legged seat, mumbled, "This is my room too, you know."
Dipper heard her. The venom lurking in her words gave him pause. He frowned, stood, and held the list above her. "Point me out one then that doesn't work," he demanded of her as he loomed above her. Her eyes scanned the rules painfully. As much as she wanted to deny the fact, none of the room rules actually had negatives. She merely gave Dipper an angered sticking-out-of-her-tongue, and turned away. "Thought so," Dipper sighed.
"Why can't we just chill together?" Mabel asked pointedly, "you have to go and make this some weird meeting thing?"
"There," Dipper said, casually ignoring his sister, as he taped the list to the wall by the door, "fifteen rules to follow when living in this room. This should minimize problems while we're here."
Mabel seethed, "It's already causing problems."
"I heard that," Dipper caught her, and she stared back at him. He rolled his eyes. "This isn't about the rules themselves, is it? You just don't want to have any rules for your room!"
"Of course I don't, Dipper!" Mabel cried out exasperatedly, "what kind of maniac wants to come back to their room and be on watch for their own laws?!"
"If you follow your own rules, it's never a problem," Dipper told her, and turned for his bed and began collecting sleeping wear.
"Like we follow rules!" Mabel snapped back from her bed, "if anything, since our first summer, we've broken, like, a bazillion rules! You're telling me you're a perfect little angel at moms?" Mabel demanded from her brother, who was slipping off his shoes under his bed, and retrieving a robe and bathroom supplies.
His nose in the air, Dipper cast side-eyes at his sister. "I will be changing in the bathroom," Dipper told her with an air of ease, "as it states on the list: change in the bathroom when someone is occupying the room."
"Oh, you-" Mabel furiously started, but Dipper calmly walked out, "Yeah, you- you- you better stay clean! You... stupid, rule oriented jerk!"
Mabel laid in bed furiously, her arms crossed tightly as she waited for her brother to return. She had many a choice word to use in verbal battle against him, and awaited her chance at full force retaliation. However, time passed, and she was left to stew in her negative energy. Boiling and reducing into a state of true teenaged bitterness, Mabel started to reduce from a roaring fire to angry embers. She had not the will nor energy to even hiss at her brother when he returned from a shower.
Dipper paused, as the first thing he spotted were those mean stares from his sister. "Yes?" he asked, almost as a dare.
She screwed her face up so much she almost put on a Grunkle Stan impression. "You're poop," she said in a disgruntled voice, and turned from him. Dipper stood for a moment, wondering if the comically childish insult was worth being mad about. About five seconds of pondering, he shrugged, and eventually was in bed too.
Dipper was, to his shock, first to rise in the morning. Mabel was not far behind on the race to awaken, but the fact he had trumped his sister on the chance to be up before her was glory enough- it meant he got first shot at bathroom usage. His process was little interrupted, with exception to Mabel, who snuck inside the shower while he used it, and stole all the towels.
Mabel outside the bathroom door demanded, "Do it!" as she called from the other side, holding all the towels with an evil smile.
"Ugh!" Dipper groaned through the door, and he sighed, readying himself for the impending new pop song. He gave his least amount of effort as he sang, "Baby just can't leave me hanging, my call for you has me all a swaying, so lets skip the dance floor because we have even more," he finished with a dead voice. He then snapped, "Now give me one of those towels!"
"You didn't siiing it," She reminded him, but he pounded on the door with his fist, and she relented, "Fine. Spoilsport," she allowed the door to open and she tossed a towel in without peeking. Dipper walked out a minute after with his robe and towel tucked around him.
"You're dead later," he warned her. Her reply was to fluttered her eyelashes and step inside the bathroom with her own abundance of towels and washing supplies.
Dipper stepped into the attic room and quickly began to change. He wouldn't be caught naked like his sister was, and so he made it quick with his boxers and pants. As he slipped on his button up shirt, he peeked outside to check the weather. The day looked great; sunny and cloudless. The sky was a bright blue and the trees gently swayed.
He took in a long breath, smelling mostly the attic, but still felt rejuvenated. "Good day for outside stuff," he told himself as he looked through the window. He was about to pull back into the room when he spotted something below, by the edge of the forest.
A small figure in the shadows seemed to be staring up at the window. Dipper pressed himself against to the window and stared, trying to get a better look at whatever watched him. He couldn't make out any details on 'it', but it remained steady as it peered up at him. As he watched, the humanoid silhouette revealed a set of glowing red eyes.
Excitement shot through his body like a bolt of lightning. "What-" Dipper wondered aloud. He instantly decided he would have to take his chances. Dipper turned and sprinted, running for his shoes and socks. After slamming both pairs onto his feet, he darted down the stairs, nearly running over Grunkle Stan, but not before knocking into the elderly man, aiding him in spilling hot coffee onto his shirt and pants.
"Ahh! My groin!" Grunkle Stan roared in pain.
Dipper ran past him, through the shop, and finally outside. Before him, having just arrived and parking her bike, was the red-headed employee of the Mystery Shack.
Wendy waved. "Hey man- whoa, dude," Wendy jolted aside as Dipper flew past her, and came to a halt by the gravel parking lot, looking to where he was certain the creature had been, "uh, Dipper?"
Dipper, hyper-focused, spotted the area of vegetation he spied before." I saw something from the window," Dipper told her while approaching a large bush that was nearby.
She chortled at first, and then saw him creep ahead. "Wait, like a 'something' or a 'something'?" She asked as he moved closer to the forest edge.
He nodded. "It looked alive, I had to see what it was!" Dipper said as he pushed his hands through the leaves and branches. He found nothing. "Dang it," he let the cluster of foliage collapse in together, "footprints, maybe it had footprints."
"Here, let me help," Wendy approached as well, and peered at the ground for anything, "how long ago did you say you saw that thing?"
"Not two minutes ago," Dipper told her as he moved aside snapped branches and old rotten leaves from the ground, hoping for an imbedded print of some kind.
"I must have just missed it then, or," she groaned, "aw shoot," Wendy growled and stood up fully, "what if I scared it away when I got here?"
Dipper stood up too, and gave her a look. She looked around the wood's perimeter with a frown, rubbing her shoulder. That wasn't impossible – she may have frightened a chance to find the weird and unusual. As he looked to the redhead, Dipper remembered the old flame he once held for her, a candle long since burnt out. However, he didn't like to let her down, and he sighed and straightened up fully.
Dipper shrugged. "Nah, don't worry about it, Wendy," he said calmly, "it was probably a crazy shadow I saw or something. I mean, no tracks, no noises... you didn't hear anything coming here, right?" he asked her.
"Not a hoot from the woods," she replied.
"Ah, then lets forget it. I'm sure something else will come around here anyway," Dipper said warmly.
"Thanks man," she patted his shoulder, and then eyed his torso. "Hey, you ever going to button up?"
Dipper blinked. "Huh?" he asked her.
"Your shirt, dude," she winked at him. He gasped, and desperately began to cover his partially exposed chest by finishing the buttons along the shirt. Wendy laughed at his desperation, yet gave him a wink, adding "Dude, don't worry. Won't tell anyone I saw."
Dipper snorted. "Like it's anything to see," Dipper grumbled.
"What?" she turned on him, displeased at his self-discouragement and gave him a strong enough punch for it to make him wince, "No down-talking yourself, not while I'm around bud."
"Ow... okay, okay," Dipper nodded with a half-grin.
She nudged her head towards the Mystery Shack. "C'mon. The one thing I did hear was Stan shouting something from the Shack," she snickered and Dipper hesitated, aware of the pain he caused his Grunkle in the search for what panned out to be nothing. They bother entered, where the grand picture of Grunkle Stan holding an old-style ice pack to his crotch awaited. Wendy could not contain herself, and left the room and burst out laughing.
Scowling, Grunkle Stan said, "Yeah, real funny, isn't it," Grunkle Stan growled at Wendy's laughter. Dipper was having a hard time keeping a straight face despite his guilt. Stan lifted a fist into the air warningly, "We'll give them out for free to the rest of you shmucks; free dumping of fresh, hot coffee. See how you like it."
Dipper cleared his throat. "Pass," he declared.
"Ditto," Wendy re-entered the room, having fulfilled her humor, and took her place behind the counter, rocking back in the chair, and her feet up.
From behind Stan, Mabel's voice cried out, "I love free things!" She descended the stairs and smacked into her Grand-Uncles back. He dropped the heavy ice bag onto his feet. Continuing his morning of pain, he leapt into the air, shouting as he hopped on one foot and clutched at it with his hand. All the while he still held another hand to his injured crotch. Mabel watched him move, and cooed. "What an original dance move, Grunkle Stan!."
"We should totally try that," Soos said as his head appeared from the other side of the doorframe.
"You and me, brotha," Mabel told Soos, and the two began to replicate the moves Stan was making in his pain.
Wendy cheered. "Oh man, no one told me today was 'party up in the shop'!" Wendy chuckled as one injured person and two way too enthused people hopped around on one foot.
Taking it all in, Dipper calmly said, "Adding notable ridiculous memories in the shack to file... complete."
This stirred Stanley's mind back to reality. "Gah! That's 'Manor' to you!" Grunkle Stan reminded Dipper as he finally calmed down. Grunkle Stan blinked, and turned to the two still dancing, "and what are you two supposed to be? Burned alive flamingos?"
Wendy and Dipper snickered, and she commented, "Inspired by Stanley Pines."
"Well stop it, before I pay you to keep both feet on the ground for the rest of your lives," Grunkle Stan told them as they calmed down, "Eesh, is that how kids dance these days?"
"I've seen worse," Wendy added from the counter as she peeked into a magazine.
Grunkle Stan took in the collected crowed. "Anyway, since my pain has reached a point of tolerance to my indomitable will," Grunkle Stan said, "the opening date of the Mystery Manor is in two weeks. We need to begin construction of the exterior. We've got the space inside finally, now lets see what we can do about fixing the outside to look like its worth a buck or two," Grunkle Stan rubbed his hands together expectantly.
Dipper nodded. "Great, so what's the plan then?" Dipper asked.
A glimmer twinkled in Stanley's eyes as he smirked. "We spend as little money as we humanly can, while maxing out on curb appeal! Hah!" he exclaimed, and eyed each of them. "So," he continued, "I need a volunteer to go and grab supplies. And also food. Oh, and print out a fake building inspection safety license. We'll need those for later," Grunkle Stan added to himself.
Soos raised a hand, "I can go get them," Soos offered.
"No Soos, I need your expertise in construction and destruction to get as much done with what little we have already. You're going nowhere," Stan said to his handyman.
Soos lowered his hand, nodding contently. "My job here, once again, is secure," he calmly said.
Stan rounded onto the female employee. "Wendy, how about you? Get into town and grab some stuff," Grunkle Stan told his other worker. She looked to him blankly, and shrugged unenthusiastically. Stan clapped a hand onto his fez, astounded at her lack-luster reaction, "What? You're kidding me! You always want to bust out of this place!"
"Eh, not feeling it today," she told him in a flat tone and a turn of the page.
Grunkle Stan smirked. "Well, that changes my perception of your laziness," Grunkle Stan taunted her, which she made no reply to. He sighed, and turned to the twins, "Okay. You two," he pointed to them, "get into town and grab stuff. Building material, like nails, but not too nice, okay? Then food- you know, that really processed stuff that lasts through a nuclear holocaust? All of them."
Dipper nodded. "The usual microwave meals," he noted.
Mabel excitedly added, "We can grab run-gurt! It's yogurt in a tube specially designed not to allow anything to come out unless you're running."
Stan, entirely unconcerned with their responses, continued, "Whatever. Here's fifty bucks for the food, and fifty bucks for the work stuff. Don't take forever, I want this place looking nice-ish sooner than never," Grunkle Stan said strongly, and he tossed the money to Dipper casually before turning back to the living room.
Dipper glanced at the money handed to him. "Grunkle Stan," he warned, "fifty bucks isn't going to get us much in line of, uh, building supplies," Dipper told his Gran Uncle worriedly.
"Look," Grunkle Stan turned back to him, adjusting his eye-patch to one eye, "I just need essentials. Nothing fancy- just get me the absolute, bottom of the bucket, bare minimum crud you can scrap off a house-depot floor you possibly can," Grunkle Stan explained as he turned away and walked off, "same goes for the food!"
"Fine," Dipper turned for the door.
"Hey!" Mabel ran and caught up with her brother, "I'm going too."
"Sure," Dipper said as he stepped outside, "but anything you pick that we can't deem as house-hold oriented doesn't go onto this money, it comes out of your wallet."
"Psh. fine," Mabel said, skipping past him to her bike. Dipper approached his car, and started to check his pockets for his keys. "Dip!" Mabel called him, and he turned. She was giving him an incredulous glare. She then wove her head, indicating him to approach. "Hop on!" she told him.
"...what?" he demanded, staring at the pink bike.
"It'd be a waste of gas for us to keep going back into town using both car and motorcycle," Mabel told her brother, "so, hop on!"
"Mabel, we're getting groceries, we need the car," Dipper reminded her with a single chuckle.
"Fine," she growled, getting off her precious ride. Dipper nodded and felt around for his keys. Only then did he realize his wallet and cell phone were upstairs. She grinned. "Uh oh," she teased, "did someone forget their keys?" and then reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out her own, dangling them for display.
"Mabel, if I'm going on the bike, I at least want some form of protection. It will just take a second to get my keys," Dipper told her, and he turned for the door.
At the door, Wendy emerged. "Hey, you going on the bike?" Wendy asked, spying the twins by the vehicles.
Quickly, Mabel chirped, "Yup!" Mabel smiled deviously at her brother, who looked between her and Wendy with uncertainty.
Uncertainty flooded Dipper's mind, and all he could manage was, "I, Uh..."
Wendy nodded. "Thought so. Well, one of you take this," she said, and tossed out with a solid underhanded swing to Dipper her own bike helmet, "play it safe, man."
Catching it with an 'oof', Dipper gave Wendy a weak smile. "Uh, thanks, I guess," Dipper nodded to her. Wendy waved, and stepped back inside. Dipper then started turning to face a gleaming Mabel. He sighed. "We still should take the car. Just give me a few-"
A loud, wood-splintering crash echoed from deep within the Manor. "Hey, are the twins still here?!" Stan shouted from within the building, "Tell them we now need supplies for the stairs! Because Soos smashed the stairs!" Stan added.
Their bedroom window slid open, and Soos' head popped out. "Hey dudes, can you also bring some metal sealant? I dropped my solid metal penguin statue down the stairs. Totally, like, shattered it too. Not the penguin, though, phew. Poor Lupe," Soos shook his head solemnly, "he's been through enough."
Dipper stared at the man above him, his mouth agape. The universe, once again, had conspired against him and his efforts to play the game safe and responsibly. With a grimace, he turned back to his smug, triumphant sister.
"You'll need these," Mabel grinned devilishly and handed him her pink sunglasses. Mabel slid on her own black sunglasses, enjoying every moment. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked, as he stared at the bike.
"N-nothing!" he stated, putting on the helmet and, regrettably, sliding on the very girly sunglasses.
Mabel snickered. "Waaaay too much swag," she said as Dipper cautiously approached the bike, and tried hopping on. He was wobbly, and almost fell off. Mabel chuckled, "Dude, just hold on," she told him while watching his struggles.
"To what!?" he demanded, "the wheels!?"
"Or me, it doesn't matter," she told him with a laugh, and revved on the bike, "but seriously dude, hold on."
All sense of dignity and hesitance were lost from Dipper as soon as the bike spun around. He wrapped his arms around his sister's torso like a vice, and held for dear life as she nearly back-wheeled out of the parking lot.
As he careened with his sister down the road, Dipper called, "Please, can you stay on the ground?!" in the midst of the noise as they rode down the street.
"Whaaat? I can't hear you?" Mabel called aloud.
"I said can you stay on the ground!?" Dipper tried again, screaming his lungs out for volume. Mabel looked back at him. A wicked grin arrived on her face, and Dipper's eyes widened in terror. "No, no, No, No, NO!" he cried as she, once again, tossed the front end of the bike into the air.
Arriving at the joint food and construction depot, Dipper Pines left the motorbike a more traumatized individual than he could have ever expected. No less than five wheelies came about from his request for a calm ride, and he had screamed no less than five times to match. He was absolutely certain that death would have come for him at any of those moments. Stepping off the bike quickly, his legs buckled and he quickly grasped a parking limit sign by the parking spot.
From the sidewalk, a deep, baritone voice called out. "Well, looky here," said the man. He turned and found a squat, dark-skinned cop with full gray moustache pointing at Dipper. He was motioning to his comrade, a taller and pale man with a buzz-cut and large nose. Both were dressed as police officers. "City boy here is having some trouble on anything less than four wheels."
His partner nudged the squat man on the shoulder. "We should show him, huh Sheriff?" the deputy asked/
"Let's do it," Sheriff Blugs told Deputy Durland with gravitas. They then quickly hopped onto Segways, and with a triumphant roar, the two blasted out of the parking lot at an astonishing thirteen miles an hour. They passed a field tractor by the road, and the farmer driving it cheered as they zoomed past.
"What a couple of roadsters!" the farmer cried aloud.
Dipper was so focused on that sight that he failed to spot Mabel approaching his side. "Whoo!" She said as she dismounted from the motorcycle, thrashing her head around to allow her hair to breathe, as she had a bad case of helmet hair, "you okay there, Dip?"
"I have yet to determine that," Dipper said weakly, trying his hardest to gain even footing, "I officially am going to get you back for this."
"Ohhh, I'm soo scared my knees are shaking. Oh, wait," Mabel sneered at her brother, "that's you! Bwahaha!"
Dipper stood up and marched past her, shoving her head out of the way grumpily. Mabel gave a curt 'whomp,' but she still laughed. Walking inside the massive store, they instantly were surprised with strange mixture of smells; the scent of cooking roast chickens and recently sawn woodchips perfumed the air around them.
Dipper took it in with a long breath, and decided it wasn't… awful. "Well," he started, "the cruddy food is right there. Let's grab it all while we can," Dipper said deliberately, attempting to move away from his embarrassing entrance with his sister. He grabbed and started pushing a cart and began his search for the ultimate savings he could.
Mabel hopped up next to him, and started to look around. "Oh, Dipper," she called as they entirely skipped an isle of snacks and sweets, "let's grab some sugar-rolls!" she said as she grabbed a package of clearly delicious, sugary food.
He shook his head. "No way, they cost a ton, and they only come in packages of eight. Grunkle Stan would totally hog all of them, or you would," Dipper scolded her.
She tossed them back over her shoulder. "Pluh. Fine," she grumbled. "At least can we grab some super-ultra-highly-industrial sugar dots?" she pointed at a large cartridge of sugar.
"Ew, no," Dipper said, "Why do you even want those? They aren't even edible unless you boil them, I think."
"I could totally break them down with my awesome teeth grinding powers," Mabel threatened the cartridge, flashing her pearly chompers.
"Mabel-"
"Okay, fine, Dippy-downer," Mabel rolled her eyes and followed suit.
Many times Mabel would try to grab an unnecessary food item for her joy. Many times Mabel was shot down by her brother as she tried placing them, or sneaking them, onto the cart. Her desire for sweet and delicious snacks barely swayed as they moved away from the bargain food items. As they approached the construction side of the massive building, she would switch focus to another passion – her fashion.
As she walked with Dipper, she began to roam around displays, semi-neat folded clothes piles, to entire sale racks. Her targets were ridiculous skirts, jackets, and of course, sweaters. As much as Mabel tried to wiggle out any amount of sympathy cash, Dipper remained resolute. Dipper grew tired of her distractions and would intentionally push faster ahead. To her chagrin, Mabel would succumb to his defiance, and she gave into his forward, pragmatic attitude. She would be damned, however, if she would walk around with her brother in silence.
After a moment of walking past some, in her opinion, beautiful tights, she cleared her throat. "So, bro-man," she spoke carefully, "what have you been up to, anyway?"
"Huh?" he asked, uncertain if she was actually asking a sane question or not.
"What have you been up to?" she asked again, "I am communicating in a way the Dipper can comprehend, yes?"
"Yeah- uh, yes, you are," he said, counting away discount nails from a bin, "like, do you mean at school?"
"Sure! School, home, between, whatever," she explained excitedly, "I bet it's all super smart and boring," she hung at the front end of the cart, blocking Dipper's vision.
He sighed, and stepped to the side from her blockade. "It's not boring. I joined the math club, chess club, the puzzle league united, and the book club," he listed off, "and I'm thinking about making a paranormal mysteries club, but-"
"Jeesh, I wasn't wrong," Mabel laughed as she let herself roll into the cart, and fell gently onto the spare nails, "ow."
"Serves you right," Dipper remarked as she crawled out and back to her 'hanging-off-the-cart' position, nails sticking out of her back and arms. He added, "And I've been at the top in school grades for a bit. Gives me tutoring chances. That's paid work once I'm a junior," Dipper told her with a cocky smile. She stuck out her tongue to the side, displaying her disinterest in the subject. "Well fine then, miss 'excitement is my middle name'," Dipper called her out, "what have you been doing?"
She proclaimed with a great burst of power, "Martial arts!"
"Really?" Dipper asked, genuinely surprised, "you started learning, like, karate?"
She shook her head. "Not karate! I've discovered this really new, and super cool subject known as 'The Paths'. It's so new that it barely has a history behind it at all!" Mabel explained excitedly.
"Does that make you a martial-hipster?" Dipper asked her.
"Makes me awesome, is what it makes me," Mabel told him proudly, "I get to be part of history in the making!"
He turned to another bin of highly discounted building supplies. Scratching his chin, he did his best to look deep in thought, whilst masking his great curiosity. "You any good at it?" he asked her as casually as he could.
"I think so," Mabel shrugged, "my teacher seems to think so anyway."
"Wow. Well, that is pretty cool, gotta give it to ya," Dipper shook his head as he considered his impressive facts were all club memberships or leaderships. His sister could have been learning to break stone boards in half with her face, and here he thought being the undefeated junior chess master at school was bragging rights.
"Aww yeaaah," Mabel grabbed her shoulders casually, crossing her arms in a 'victory salute', "Mabel Pines: official badass."
"Okay, okay, enough stroking the ego," Dipper laughed and poked her nose, which caused her to flinch. She grinned at him after rubbing her insulted nose. He had lightened up, just for a moment; long enough for them to really enjoy their company.
Looking to him with her own grin, she couldn't help but wonder the inevitable question for their departure. "So," Mabel started, her pace slow, "when do you think we're heading back?"
"I told mom about two weeks," Dipper said easily as he looked at sealants for the roof, "about as much time I hope this crazy blue glowing stick thing mystery can be solved."
"Only two weeks?" Mabel repeated, deflated.
Dipper looked towards her, her saddened tone not lost on his hearing. "Mabel, it's a good amount of time," Dipper reminded her.
"That's, like, less than twenty days," Mabel told him sadly.
"It's exactly fourteen," Dipper sighed at her annoyingly true estimation.
"Oh c'mon," Mabel groaned, "we can stay a bit longer than that, can't we? I mean... we just got here, you know?"
Dipper pressed his eyelids together. It was one thing to hear that voice in his head saying that, but to hear his sister then add onto the burning fire of this summer-desire was harsh. "I know," Dipper nodded as he selected more product and tossed it into the cart, "I get you, Mabel, I do. I... I don't really want to go either. But we have our own obligations. I've got my job that's going to help me towards college, and you've... well, you have your martial arts stuff you'll want to learn."
Mabel puffed her lips, and looked away. "Well, yeah... I guess you're right," Mabel shrugged and hopped off the cart to walk ahead. She scanned left and right, passing aisles for a distraction. Hoping that maybe she could rid herself of her heavy thoughts, she took a long look down a particularly distant aisle. Far down said division of organized merchandise, she did spot something that piqued her interest.
A blue and white hat that matched with a pine tree revealed itself before disappearing into a row. It wasn't the hat that truly befuddled her, but the appearance of the wearer. In the brief moment she spotted it, she had seen great familiarity. It was shorter than her, with pale skin and thick brown hair. Mabel stepped away from Dipper and the cart, approaching the aisle.
Her brother paused, eying her departure. "Mabel?" Dipper called to his sister as she walked away.
"Hold on," she held a hand up as she approached the row. Stepping inside, she found only a collection of winter shirts very out of season and several broken mannequins. She brought herself to the opposite end, scanning the other end for signs of movement.
"Mabel, what are you doing?" Dipper called her from the other end.
"I thought I saw a kid that looked just like you," she said with wonder, "wanted to let him know how adorable he looked."
"I didn't look adorable," Dipper defended himself.
"Okay, macho man," Mabel rolled her eyes and walked over to him. Her steps stopped as she looked to her side. A single mannequin stared blankly forward, and she glared back. "You got something to say, bub?" she growled with a throaty voice at the plastic creation, poking it in the eye once. It bobbled around, and collapsed to the floor, falling apart around Mabel. "Let's go," she stated nonchalantly.
"Good idea," Dipper agreed as they hurried off.
They left the depot store quickly enough, stopped at the photocopiers, and still got back to the Mystery Shack in good time. On the way back, Dipper had bag-holding duty. This might not have been a terrible encounter for him, but it coupled horribly with his new fear of riding a motorcycle with Mabel. Between Dipper's not incredible balance on the bike and Mabel doing her best wheelies to frighten her brother, it was a miracle to see all purchased items arrive in one piece (or however many pieces they had when originally bought). Arriving to the Shack, they were met by Grunkle Stan and Soos, who were ready for construction.
As the twins took the bags inside, Stan snorted absentmindedly. "Wonderful. Soos, you and Dipper start fixing that darn roof to the best of our materials ability. I am not above you using tree sap to fix things," Grunkle Stan told Soos and Dipper.
"Sure thing, Mister Pines," Soos nodded, and happily nudged Dipper, "ladder's over here, buddy. I'll show you how this sort of thing works."
"And you," Grunkle Stan turned to Mabel, "shove these away, will ya?" he said, plopping the bags into her arms as he turned and left for the living room. He called over his shoulder, "And when you're done, slap a few of these around the sides of the building," he pointed to the copied safety certifications.
"Sorting time," Mabel began to hum an upbeat theme song from a TV show. She walked past Wendy who was in her usual spot; feet up, face inside a magazine, happily reading whatever she could. Mabel arrived into the kitchen. "Boop-bee-doop, rubber noodles in the cabinets," Mabel hummed aloud, and stuffed away each item of terrible nutrition.
"Mabel," Wendy called from the other room.
"Yo!" Mabel called back from the kitchen.
"Dude, how does Dipper handle being on the bike?" Wendy asked.
"Oh my god Wendy," Mabel got up and walked into the other room, better to talk to her friend, "you should have seen his face! He was first kind of freaked out, but then, you wouldn't believe it – Waah!" she let out a terrified squeal in the same pitch as Dipper had on the ride to the depot. Wendy and her both started cracking up and laughing.
Stan blurted out from the living room, "Quiet the mockery! I can't hear these scrubs being scammed on TV!"
The two snickered and relaxed. Wendy said, "You know, me and Soos were kinda bummed when you two started heading out yesterday. This summer is going to be way cooler since you two are going to stick around."
"What? We aren't that cool," Mabel shrugged off the comment, lying down on the floor at ease as she and Wendy talked.
"Cooler than a lot of people around here," Wendy admitted with a small frown.
"But you have nice friends around here," Mabel pointed out.
Wendy put her magazine down, better to talk. "Yeah, not really much to do with my friends anymore, honestly," Wendy admitted.
"What? But you're awesome!" Mabel implored.
Wendy laughed. "Think so, huh? Well... things got between us all one way or another. Like Robbie and me," her voice dropped considerably and her excitement fell as she recalled her ex-boyfriend.
"Oh, I forgot about Robbie," Mabel mused.
"Wish I could," Wendy stated with annoyance.
"How is he, then?" Mabel asked. Quickly, an evil grin grew; nasty plans and schemes bubbling under the surface. She added, "We should strand him in the middle of the lake and see how long it takes for the Gobblewonker to show up," she quietly stated.
Wendy gave out a solitary laugh. "Like it would want to eat him. He's nothing but skin and bone," she reminded Mabel, who gagged while sticking out her tongue. Wendy tilted her head and added, "he actually left town, you know."
"Whaaat? He got over you?" Mabel asked with curiosity.
"Eh," Wendy mumbled a little, and looked to the side. She was rubbing the back of her neck. She quietly mentioned, "Sort of. I'm... not really sure I want to talk about it."
"Whoa, Wendy," Mabel stood and walked over to her, "that's like the first time I've ever seen you uncertain about... anything!"
"Yeah... change of topic, please?" Wendy asked with a plea.
"Yeah, of course! And what else to change topics, than with... SPARKLES!" Mabel reached into her pockets and launched into the air two handfuls of glitter, which flew everywhere in it's varying rainbow colors. "Let the colors touch your soul."
Wendy stared at her, and then gave her a smirk. "You are the most prepared person for random needs I've ever met," Wendy informed Mabel.
"Glitter is more important than people realize," Mabel lectured, "it can turn projects of 'B' plus into an 'A' range any day! Also, I was going to throw them onto Dipper if he screamed too womanly, just to let him know his accomplishment," Mabel added. Wendy chuckled, and leaned back against her stool, and her feet were back up. Mabel stared at her older friend for a moment.
Wendy having 'no-go' topics was new, but nothing that bothered Mabel. To her, it was a simple re-routing for conversation. Yet, she found herself drawn to the idea of un-comfortability. It wasn't something she really wanted to voice to the universe, but it was festering in her head. Finally, after a few moments to stew with indecision, she looked back to Wendy. "Hey, can I ask you something?" she asked the redhead.
"Mmhmm," Wendy said off-handedly as she picked up her magazine.
Mabel leaned into herself. "So," she started, "Dipper and me, we've... kinda become distant," Mabel said as she stood up, and leaned on the counter, "and I think we can feel it. We're sort of... I think we're uncomfortable with each other now."
"Really? You two?" Wendy asked, peeking to the side from her magazine for a better view of Mabel, "man, what happened? You two get into a big argument?"
"Uh... not us," Mabel looked around as she considered talking about her family's status.
Wendy seemed either to immediately understand and not care, or didn't comprehend the implication. Instead she hummed. "Huh. Well, you know, when people get all 'weird' with one another," Wendy started aloud, "you got two things you can do: tackle it directly, like a freaking bear," Wendy said, her face tensing with the aggressive tendency "or work it out slowly," she added, and flicked the magazine to straighten it up.
Mabel sighed. "I like tackling things, but I feel like that's not really helping in this one," Mabel grumbled. Wendy shrugged, and Mabel groaned as she turned and slid to sit against the counter. Mabel added, "but waiting for it to solve itself sounds worse."
"Dude, I didn't mean waiting around," Wendy looked to Mabel over her magazine, "it means you take small steps together until you both are okay with it."
Mabel, unfamiliar with the concept of 'slow and steady' processed this information. "Oh," she managed to blurt out.
"Yeah. If you two are just sitting around waiting for the problem to fix itself, it's either going to just sit there, or grow into something worse," Wendy said firmly, "take some initiative, girl. You're good at that."
"Thanks, Wendy," Mabel smiled as Wendy leaned back again and lazily began to read her magazine.
"No problemo, dude," Wendy said. Mabel stood up, dusting her hands of the glitter that covered the floor.
"Well, I'd better go get that-" Mabel started, but stalled as she saw something from the kitchen. It was the same fleeting image she had spotted earlier at the depot- a small figure with thick brown hair and blue and white hat. Without a second thought, she bolted to the kitchen. Coming to a halt as she slid atop the tiles, Mabel scanned around. The capped figure had been disappearing behind the wall that lead to the fridge. With only a second of hesitation, she reached out and pulled the door open.
"What..." she mumbled as she looked around. The fridge was large enough for someone to hide inside, but it was currently nearly empty. As she closed the door behind her, she began to wonder what she was seeing. Then she stepped on one of the 'rubber-noodle' packs, which exploded around her in a mess. "Whoopsies," she sighed, and then grinned, "oh, these are like un-colored glitter," she said, scooping up the smashed noodles into a pocket.
Only twenty feet above, a man of uncertain age and a fifteen-year-old kneeled upon a slanted, shoddy rooftop.
Soos pointed at a piece of patch-work they were focusing on. "You want to put this handy sealer before it's been nailed," Soos informed Dipper, who steadily nodded, "and after that, you just move onto the next one."
"Seems simple enough," Dipper said with confidence.
"Ah, do not allow the deceptively simple work here put your mind at ease," Soos said with a warning, "The trick is making sure you can do it, like, five hundred times."
"Five hundred times?" Dipper cried aloud, "is there really that many?"
"Eh, give or take twice that," Soos shrugged, "and then more when your Grunkle decides where to put the rest of the rooms."
"Rest of the rooms?" Dipper asked, starting on one tile quickly. "Grunkle Stan isn't done building yet?"
"Nope," Soos shook his head, looking at the roof tile he had started on, masterfully finishing it within moments to Dipper's shock, "the construction was delayed until the building's condition was deemed 'safe to live in'."
Dipper stared at him with a dawning realization. "... Mabel and I were living in the attic of a building that wasn't deemed safe to live?" Dipper asked.
"Uh, probably," Soos continued, "but there's always the chance that it wasn't until after you two left that it was considered unsafe. Or maybe," Soos added, "you were living in a deathtrap. Hard to say."
"That's comforting," Dipper said, finishing his first tile as Soos finished his fifth, "so what other rooms is he finishing? I saw the new bathroom, and sort of a new storage place?"
"Oh, that's just for his convenience. You see over there?" Soos directed Dipper's attention with a jab of his glue-brush in the indicated direction, "those markings on the ground?"
Dipper turned, and indeed saw the markings. "Yeah," he said. In chalk outlines and several small orange flags, Dipper could see what could eventually become a least a dozen new rooms, and what appeared to be smaller room within each. "What're those supposed to be? Cages for animals?"
"Hmmm," Soos contemplated, "I actually think that's how Mister Pines put it. But no, they're going to be motel rooms."
"Motel ro- wait," Dipper turned fully to Soos, "you mean Grunkle Stan, the guy who hates dealing with customers that doesn't involve him getting their money, is inviting them to stay at his place? In an extension of his home?"
Soos chuckled. "Me and Wendy's idea, actually. It was sort of a joke. We told him that he could make a lot more money if people stayed here, but he actually looked it up. If he called his place a 'haunted' or 'mysterious' motel, he could make nearly double what a standard motel makes."
Dipper sighed. "Well, trust Grunkle Stan never to pass up a dollar if he can afford to," Dipper shrugged, comfortable in the idea that at least the motel would be completed after he left.
Soo snooded. "You know it. Smart businessman, isn't he-"
Dipper had stopped listening to Soos. He had gone to wipe his brow, as the summer sun was beating down on his head. In the turn of his head, he saw it again: a shadowy figure peering from behind a bush, looking directly at him. He nearly dropped his supplies as he turned and stared back. The creature remained put, but after a moment, it flashed bright red eyes.
"Soos!" Dipper called loudly, not daring to turn away from the thing below and across the parking lot, "Soos!"
"What is it? You having some trouble with the sealant can?" Soos asked, hardly turning to Dipper.
"No, look below!" Dipper pointed, and in the fraction of a second he turned to see Soos, the animal had once again gone. "Oh- what?! C'mon," Dipper growled, angered by the speed the creature departed.
Soos chuckled. "Ah yes, some of life's greatest wonders," Soos said, wandering over to Dipper to look the same bush, "is it true if you jump in a bush and land it, you'll be totally cool? Like in the movies? Ah, I really wanna try, but then I think, boy, that would suck if I missed, huh?"
It had been hours since Dipper and Soos had gone to the roof for maintenance. Mabel had retreated to her room since then, going through her notepad of bets she had made with her dad on things related to Dipper. So far she had crossed off on a double-digit list things like 'growing facial hair' and 'is part of clubs relating to intellect'. With a great wicked smile, one particular note remained uncrossed- 'doesn't scream like a girl'.
"Mabel!" Dipper called from the hallway outside, knocking loudly on the door.
"In here, nerd," she called back as Dipper entered the room, "enjoy the roof work?"
"Eh, Soos did most of it-" he caught himself, and shook his head. "Mabel, I think I have a creature stalking me," Dipper told her as he entered. Mabel, who had been lying on the bed, shot up and looked to him with a serious stare. "You saw it too?"
"I keep seeing someone running around that looks like you," Mabel told him with energy, "like little baby you was still here, or something."
He stared. "Wait... baby me?" "Dipper repeated with confusion.
"Yeah, like smaller," Mabel put a level hand closer to the floor to emphasize the smaller stature of the thing in topic. Dipper ran to his bed, lifted the pillow, and pulled the journal to himself.
"I was wondering since earlier today," Dipper said aloud, "when I saw it looking at me from that window," Dipper pointed behind him as he sat on the floor, "what it could be. But Mabel," he looked to his sister, who sat down next to him, peering into the book," if you're seeing someone who looks like me, we now have a credible suspect."
Mabel gasped in fear. "The... shapeshifter," she darkly exclaimed.
"No, thankfully," Dipper sighed in relief, "remember, we froze him back into the cryostasis pod."
She limply say by him. "Oh. Who's dreaded suspect number two?" Mabel asked.
Dipper cast a grim look at the journel. "A doppelganger," Dipper flipped pages and came across a shimmering figure, one side a normal looking, happy man, the other a shadowy creature with illuminated eyes, "it says 'these nefarious creatures of evil stalk their prey day and night, all for the purpose of eventually taking their own place'," Dipper read aloud, and turned to his sister, "which means it could-" Dipper paused. To his disbelief, she was holding her hands to her mouth, trying to contain laughter. "What?" he grumbled.
"That is the silliest name I've heard yet," she managed, and then just burst out with a few short laughs, "okay, okay, I'm done. Wait," she added three more distinct barking laughs. She paused, looking around, almost waiting for more laughter. "I'm good now," she finally told him, "So, impersonating... does it say why?" Mabel asked.
"Uh... 'the cunning doppelganger has much to gain from impersonating others, such as stealing their property over time and hoarding it in a secret treasure trove, spending the stolen life's resources and wealth on questionable purchases, or just because it has a sad sense of humor'," Dipper read aloud.
"So he wants to replace you?" Mabel checked, craning her head to get a better view of the page. "What should we do about him?" she asked.
Dipper thought aloud. "I don't like the idea of just waiting for him, but going to get it could be really dangerous," Dipper said, picking at a spot on his chin as he scanned the page, "it says that 'directed bright light can reveal its true form, and prolonged exposure can cause it injury'."
"Dipper," Mabel told her brother seriously, "if this thing wants to grab you, we shouldn't wait for it," she remembered someone giving her a bit of advice from earlier, "let's be proactive about this monster, and get it first!"
Dipper gave his sister a look. It wasn't like her to be interested in a mystery case so quickly, not without having an ulterior motive somewhere in the mission. Yet as he looked to her, no thought of other desires could reason her interest.
A look of excitement flashed over his face. "Okay," Dipper nodded, "let's get some high powered flashlights and get ready to leave. We have a doppelganger to catch." Only then did Mabel smile with amusement. "What?"
"Since it's trying to get you, would it be called a... dipper-ganger?"
He glared at her. "Mabel, that's stupid."
"Heh heh. Dipper-ganger."
Oh noes! DOPPLEGANGER BEING ALL SNEAKY LIKE?! This bodes not well, my friends. At least it's got that nifty little weakness, eh?
How are you all enjoying this so far? Kind of hoping I can hear from a few of you dudes out there. With this being a new story, I would love a consensus of opinion. A lot of reviews so far have been positive, which is great!
Well, you guys know the drill. Review for me, you glorious men and women! REVIEW! AHAHAHAHA! It makes me especially want to have next week pass by extra fast!
Now, for this inconspicuously placed yogurt on my desk- I shall endeavor to devour. (EZB peels open the deliciously creamy looking yogurt, and slams the entire packet into his mouth, plastic and all.) NOM.
(EZB then explodes.)