"Thank you! Thank you and remember – if it's mysterious, chances are we sell it!" Stan Pines announced to the gift shop at large. He had just ended his last tour of the day. The late afternoon sun poured in through the windows, and the many satisfied guests were filing their way out of the shop. He reminded the leaving tourists, "Tomorrow all tours, and the gift shop are closed from noon onwards. Summerween is an important holiday to the town! Thank you!" Stan called as he slowly closed the door behind him, flipping through the various bills he had collected through the days benefits. "Hehehe, suckers."
Soos, sweeping idly, noted to Stan, "Looks like another successful day mister Pines."
"Absolutely!" he told his first and longest employee to date, rolling the dollar bills before him. "That's got to be at least five hundred dollars! Ahh, talk about sweet, sweet relief of cash against your fingers," he sighed, rubbing the money through his hands.
"Awesome thing, Mister Pines, "Soos told him, "I'm heading out, but I'll drop by tomorrow to check up on everybody. Got to pick someone up, after all. Seeya!"
"Yeah, yeah, bye Soos," Stan grumbled as his handyman left the building.
As Soos passed by the register counter, the second hired employee began to straighten up. "Yo, Stan," Wendy piped up, lifting her legs from the cash register, "You, uh, going to put all that way?"
"Oh, c'mon," Stan scolded her, "Let an old man enjoy his passion in life."
Watching Stanley Pines rub his face with twenty dollar bills, she cringed. "Yeah that's... kind of sad," Wendy muttered.
"Grunkle Stan!"
Mabel came running into the room, followed by Dipper. Stan dropped the cash with a sigh from his face and handed it to Wendy.
"Here. Lock it up," he grunted to her. As he turned to face his grand-kids, Wendy and Dipper shared a single look between one another. Quickly enough they looked away. Dipper fixed himself on his shoelaces and Wendy stared at the cash register she worked. Stan glanced between the two, but decided to focus on Mabel. "So, what do you kids want?"
"We're here for our official notice of leave for tomorrow," Mabel declared as she held up to Stan a single piece of paper. He took it and eyed it from behind his glasses. A drawn picture of Dipper and Mabel underneath a discoball with witches and skeletons dancing around them entertained Stan, but he crooked an eyebrow all the same.
"Wait, so, you're going to a party tomorrow?" he asked them.
"Yeah!" Mabel nodded and jumped into the air, snatching her picture back.
Dipper happily explained, "This will be the first time in a while we've had a chance to really duke it out as a duo," Dipper added, nudging his sister to stop her spinning in circles. "Last time we did this, we kind of had the looming 'mom and dad' thing."
Stan gave them a sympathetic nod of his head. "Heh. Figures. Well, might as well go have fun then," he told them with a grunt, "Can't stop teens, I'm not that dumb to try."
"Yes!" Mabel rocked her fist around her head. "Going rock out until morning! And go crazy on candy!"
"Hey, uh, Stan," Wendy piped up, passing by him as she walked around the corner, "Just a reminder about my day off-"
Stan waved a hand towards her. "Yeah, yeah, don't worry. Might as well start making it a habit with you," Stan told her as she nodded and placed her helmet on. "See you on Tuesday." Wendy said nothing as she curtly stepped out of the gift shop. Stan turned around and found his grand-nephew staring away from his one-time crush. As with youth, great age seemed to take away tact. "Did you two have a fight or something?" Stan asked Dipper.
"H-huh?" Dipper stammered.
Stan placed his knuckles on his hips. "I know a hurt look when I see one. Both of ya's got it. What happened?" he asked.
"Nothing," Dipper shrugged.
Stan quickly told him, "Heh. Good," and began to organize several objects on a nearby shelf. The door opened again, and Stan lifted his gaze, only to groan. "We're closed," he told the golden-haired woman stepping in.
"Fine by me," Arline told him as she walked inside briskly, "I'm not here to shop."
Stan grumbled, "Then whatever you want can wait until-"
"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel scolded him.
Stan flinched, crumpling his brow as he deeply frowned. Rather than retort, he turned away and began to restock the shelves. He had to get them ready for tomorrow. If the shop was ready for the weekend and next Monday, he could spend all tomorrow setting up the decorations. As he did, another voice called from the hallway.
"Friends," Yuki waved, walking in, "Mister Pines," he nodded to Stan, who grunted as he continued to file merchandise on the shelves, "I have completed the secondary electric upgrade to your heating system.
"Sweet! That's going to save a whole ton of cash! Ha!" Stan chuckled as he nodded to Yuki.
The alien frowned and walked over to the twins. "Dipper, Mabel. What is it you have in your hand, Miss Hirsh?" he asked.
"I'm about to tell you. I found – so I was in town, right?" Arline told the twins, catching Grunkle Stan's attention. His pace slowed as he paid attention to her words. "And check this out!" she unfolded a poster from under her arm. "Summerween?!" she gasped. "Like, they use a melon instead of a pumpkin, and it's all official looking and everything!"
"It's a holiday only Gravity Falls celebrates," Dipper said. Grunkle Stan could hear the excitement even from across the room. He craned his head around, just able to watch them with one eye. Dipper explained, "It's just a second Halloween, and the town goes full out with it."
"A holiday?" Yuki gasped.
Mabel gladly took charge to elaborate. "Yeah! Costumes! Candy! Decorations! Scares! Dance parties!" Mabel cheered, "It's totally awesome!"
"So, this isn't some elaborate prank!?" Arline begged from the twins. The shook their head, and she cheered. "Yes! That's too dang cool! Ugh, I wish I had brought up my decorations!"
"Wait, you like Halloween too?" Dipper asked.
Arline barked a single laugh. "Like? Dipper, I nearly worship the holiday," she told him. "I'm something of a Halloween aficionado," she admitted with a grin.
Beyond amused, Stan scoffed as he placed more items on the shelf. "Halloween expert. Please," he said. He turned to them, looking at the four, "If there's someone around here with a passion for terrifying people without consequence, it's me."
Arline took the comment into consideration. She then smirked, saying, "To be fair, I'm certain you're capable of scaring people without the use of anything more than underwear and a day without shaving."
"Eugh!" Mabel and Dipper groaned.
Arline laughed as Stan scowled and turned away.
"This 'Halloween'," Yuki asked, "I have studied it, and the use this town makes of it during the untraditional time of the end of June. It brings much merriment and community awareness through sweet food and dressing as fictitious characters."
"That's, uh, a very studious way of putting it, but yeah," Dipper nodded.
Yuki, missing a key ingredient to the holiday, asked, "But why scare people?"
"Because it's fun," Mabel asked with a sigh.
"I do not understand how fright is anything near fun," Yuki told them. "Fear is a pathological response to the concept of bodily, spiritual, or in some cases," Yuki glanced at Stan, "Economic harm."
Stan had been massaging a wad of dollar bills in his wallet. The four behind Stan went quiet. He must have realized at some point they were staring at him, as he rounded to them. "What? I have nightmares of burning cash sometimes," Stan admitted.
Yuki rolled his eyes and turned back to the twins.
Arline took a crack at explaining. "Well, when you get scared Yuki," Arline asked, "Don't you get a rush of energy, and then right after it, you feel more alive than ever before?"
"Only... recently," Yuki said. "My adaption to earth's atmosphere caused a mild growth of adrenal glands within my body. Not nearly as much as the human anatomy calls for, but I suppose I sort of understand."
"Yuki," Mabel put a hand on his shoulder, "Maybe you shouldn't study it from a distance."
"Huh?" he asked.
"Wait, yeah," Dipper nodded, a smile growing, "Yuki, you should come with us to the party!"
Yuki shuddered. "But– but I know not how to do such activities," Yuki worriedly admitted, holding his hands together as he squeezed them tightly. "Trick or treating is a custom I have only seen in file footage, apple-bobbing seems innately dangerous with two sources of suffocation, and candy highs are a threat to-"
"Yuki," Dipper chuckled, "It's okay."
"Yeah," Stan said as he marched over, putting the last of his in-arm merchandise on shelves, "It is okay. It'll be okay because you're going to stay in the Manor tomorrow."
"What?!" The twins and Arline barked.
"I-I am?" Yuki quietly repeated.
Stan nodded his head firmly. "Look, you need to start memorizing the layout of this building," Stan told him easily, "No more getting lost in the display areas. Once you get all the tour paths down, you're going to start leading those tours, like Soos," Stan told him. "That way you can get some real people experience – especially how to scam humans."
Yuki looked up to the elder, to his boss. His dark cheeks started flushing pink. "I, uh, was rather excited at the potential for holiday interaction," Yuki told Stan, "This would have been my first major holiday."
Stan crossed his arms. "Yuki, look. There's practically a holiday every day," Stan said.
"Yeah! Today's 'International Yoga Day'!" Mabel told Yuki.
"It's what?" Yuki asked her.
"The point being," Stan told him, "You'll get another chance later. In October. When its colder and you'll have less to do for me."
"C'mon Grunkle Stan," Dipper asked his elder, "Cut him a break. He's been really considerate to you all summer. Upgrading stuff and even fighting off a crowd? He could have a break."
Stan was unmoved. "Sorry kiddo, he's getting work because he asked for work," Stan told them, crossing his arms together.
"Hold on – to my understanding," Arline glared at Stan, "The only reason he asked for work was because he was left behind by his people. That doesn't sound fair."
"Hah!" Stan laughed, "Had you been here to see it," Stan retorted, "You'd know he left his people behind so he wouldn't be locked up in jail for breaking their crimes! So, he's lucky I didn't hand him over to any authorities at all!" Stan said proudly. Arline's face darkened as she shook her head. "Now beat it. I don't need any more money from you since Maximillion decided to pay for the repairs to my building."
Arline scowled and turned away, hands rigid at her side. Stan turned back to the three, and found not two, but three angered faces looking at him.
Feeling the heat, Stan glared at Yuki. "What? Anyone got anything else you all want to say to me?"
Yuki, often a timid soul, looked hurt. His brow had furrowed, and his eyes darkened. "No. I'll... go on and find something else to do," Yuki grumbled, and shuffled away, hands at his side as he stared at the floor.
"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel whipped around, and Stan pulled back from his grand-nieces wrath. "What is your problem!?" she demanded.
"What?!" he begged, "He's a worker here! And unlike Soos or Wendy, he gets paid in time to live here!"
"Yuki should be allowed to go with us!" Dipper pointed out. "He's upgraded everything you asked for! The car, the furnace, and even that stupid kitchen sink!"
"Which reminds me," Stan mentioned to himself, "He's got my bathroom sink to do."
"Seriously?" Dipper asked him, incredulous towards Stans attitude.
"Look," Stan stood his ground against his teenage relatives, "Holidays come and then they come again. It's why we have calendars," Stan told them, "So you remember when that holiday you don't care about comes back. Or taxes. Or anniversaries. Eesh," Stan grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, "Calendars suck."
Mabel glared up at her Grunkle. "Stanley Pines, you have lost some serious twin points this day," Mabel declared as Dipper scoffed at the old man.
Trying his best to be unphased, Stan grumbled, "Huh. I'll try remembering that like it actually means something." He raised his hand and pointed past them. "Now go bother someone else! I'm off to do more important things."
"It's nine pm," Dipper pointed out.
"Yeah, it's called 'sleep'. Now scram," he said and pushed past the twins.
Stan heard them grumble from behind him, but it wasn't much of a matter. They'd understand one day the liberties he had taken for their sake, and Yuki's. Taking in a stranger, who had caused the problems of the town single-handedly, and he would offer a room to this guy? Stan still wondered if socking him in the eye was a viable option. Probably not, but you never knew.
Pushing into his room past his door, Stan yawned and scratched his rear. "Another good day," he muttered to himself. Removing his hat, jacket, cuffs, golden chains, and watch, Stan began to disrobe while humming to himself.
It wasn't very long before her was lying in his bed, stretching out and content with his life at the moment. The second-best holiday in the world was tomorrow, and he had all the time in the world to enjoy it on his own. A good day indeed. Well, at least, he had fond memories of it. There was a lingering pain in his chest, which he often remembered was the same area of his heart.
He decided to ignore that feeling. He lifted up his recent magazine of 'New Dentures for Old Muscle' and started flipping through the pages, he heard an odd noise outside.
Stan lowered the magazine and looked at the door. The hallway light was out, and he didn't see any shapes moving around. It had sounded like a whisper, or a moan of some sort. He grunted to himself and looked back down to his magazine. The most recent models for 'man-molers' looked promising to him.
Then it happened again. A low moan, something distant and fearful in nature. Stan slowly placed down his magazine and looked at the door. The moaning now was constant. He could hear the coming of creaking wood, but wasn't sure there were any distinguishable footsteps to make out.
"Staaanleeeyyy..."
Stan gulped and sat up in his bed. He said nothing as he felt the world's heat slowly rush away. This was oddly familiar, but he dared not say a thing, in case this was more than just a dream.
"Staaaaannleeeeyyyy..."
With an accumulation of his bravery, he asked aloud, "Hello?"
The door burst open, and a figure in rags soared into the room. Gliding in with speed, the being moaned it's loudest and Stan wasted no time. He turned, reached under his pillow, and pulled out his revolved.
"Eat lead, ghostly home invader!" Stan shouted as he fired at the ghost, which shrieked and dived to the floor.
"What the heck, Stan!?" the ghost demanded from behind a board of the bed.
Stan paused, recognizing the voice. "Arline," he grumbled, but kept his gun out, "Stand up slowly and maybe I won't shoot twice. Maybe." Following instruction, the creature of black rags and cloth slowly stood up, removing it's hood to reveal the master martial artist. He snorted, "The holiday is tomorrow, smart one."
"What's going on!?"
The twins rushed into the room, ready for combat. "Spin, dreadful apparition!" Mabel demanded when she spotted Arline's back. The master glanced back at her, and Mabel silenced herself. "Oh. Sorry master," she apologized.
"What's going on here is this woman tried attacking me!" Grunkle Stan proclaimed as he lowered the business end of the gun down.
"I didn't attack anyone," Arline groaned.
"Hah! You're in my room, and have a crazy costume on!" Stan pointed out.
Arline cast a heated stare back at Stan. "Does that mean you attack anyone in the daylight if you share a room with 'em?"
As Stan opened his mouth to retort, Dipper asked, "If you weren't in here to attack Stan," stalling the argument about to blossom between Arline and Stan, "What were you doing in here?"
Arline turned as she crossed her arms, having the torn and knotted fabric tie around itself even more. She grunted and finally admitted, somewhat quietly, "I was going to scare Stan into changing his ways."
"Hah!" Stan bellowed, and he began to laugh, tossing his gun to the end of the bed, and falling back into his pillow as he roared with laughter.
"Why?" Dipper asked, trying to speak above Stan's barking chuckles noise.
Arline glowered at the laughter. "Because he's been nothing but a jerk since I got here!"
"Uh... yeah," Dipper admitted as he looked to his uncle, "You have been kind of mean to her since she got here."
"Hah, right," Stan calmed down, "And I've also been neglecting puppies, and kittens – Mabel, I haven',t actually!" Stan suddenly realized the face on his grandniece, and halted his sarcasm.
"That scared me," Mabel admitted, wiping her brow.
"Heh. Master of fright here," Stan grinned.
Arline growled and stepped closer. "You say you like scaring people, huh? Well how about being scared! Stan Pines," Arline pointed dramatically at him, "You've been a miser, a crude man, and a rude jerk all summer to not only myself, but to others in your need. Yuki wants to understand the ways of mankind, and all you can think of is how to use him! So, I put... uh... a curse on you!"
"Ohhh, scary," Stan chuckled, waving his arms around in mock fear.
Arline looked a little lost with her own declaration. She looked around, glancing to the twins before continuing. "So... well, I hope you do get haunted!" Arline said, her eyes wide with fury as she glared at the old man. "By three ghosts! And I hope they somehow remind you to be anything more than the worst!"
"That's awfully specific," Stan responded.
"There's nothing awful about it," Arline protested, "When it's all for you. You just don't care about anything but money."
"Hey," Stan pointed a warning finger at her, "I don't just care about money. I care about a whole ton of money!" he sneered, but then rolled his eyes when three angered gazes met him. "Okay, and family. Blood is important too."
"Well in case you didn't know," Arline leaned closer, holding the ends of the bed as she did, "Family isn't just about blood. It's about trust, and making sacrifices for others, and-"
"Ugh! So much bleeding heart! I can't take it!" Stan clapped his hands to his ears and shook his head.
Arline clenched her fists, holding down her eyes. "You know what?" she stated, opening those eyelids up to give Stan the most disappointed, done expression she had given him yet, "I actually do hope you do get haunted tonight. This was just a joke to get you to loosen up, but god, you really are a mean old man."
Stan dropped his act. He stared back at the younger woman, those words cutting deeper than he had anticipated. Still, Stan Pines was a master of his own poker face: indifference. He shrugged. "Huh. I'll keep an eye peeled tonight," Stan yawned as he stretched his arms over his head. "Now get out of my room. I'm getting bored by the company of a bad costume and empty threats." Arline took several tense breaths. She spun about, stomping out of the bedroom. Stan then eyed his grandkids. "You two as well. Get going. And old man needs his sleep!"
"You could be nicer to her," Mabel mumbled as she and Dipper closed the door behind them.
"Nicer. Cute," Stan rolled his eyes, "Like being nice to anyone got anything done. It's all about commanding respect and authority," he noted to himself as he lay back in his bed, sprawled out.
Now alone to his own thoughts, Stan slowly felt his face twist. He had that usual trained grin up, and it dissolved away like a sandcastle to the rain.
You really are a mean old man.
Stanley Pines scowled. Arline Hirsh. That woman had another thing coming if she thought she could burst into his room like that and demand anything like that him from. A curse? Hah. A change in character? She's gone too far. He wouldn't stand for anyone trying to change him, especially after all the things he's had to do for the town and others; the sacrifices he's had to make. What did she know about family? She didn't lose a brother! Or at least, he was pretty sure the twins hadn't said anything about a tragic backstory. And he had, to the portal not once but...
"Ugh," he shook his eyes and finally removed his glasses, "Not now," he pleaded to his brain, "Just get to bed," he told himself as he closed his eyes.
With a sigh, he readied himself for sleep once more, satisfied with the allowance that the morning would bring– Summerween. And thus, he felt the peace and satisfaction wallow over his old, worn body.
Grunkle Stan heard a tap on the floor nearby and he shifted. Darn old wooden floorboards, he thought to himself. Yet he heard it again, more pronounced than before. A rattle. "Ugh," he groaned aloud, and turned a pillow to his head. Stupid noises need to just go ahead and- the third time the rattle was a bounce, akin to that of a small ball, and Stan bolted out of bed and glared. "Mabel!" he shouted as he looked at small little Mabel, in a her jelly jar costume.
"Yes, Grunkle Stan?" she asked with a huge, bracers covered smile.
"I told you go to bed," he told her, and shifted back to sleep, "Now scram."
As Stan turned away from her, she said, "Can't go until I've completed haunting you."
Stan's mind flashed with a buzzing whiteness. Wait... a... second... he slowly pushed himself up with his arms and turned slowly. That hadn't been fifteen-year-old Mabel. That costume... her size... her voice... it was an old Mabel. A Mabel only now in a memory Stan held close to himself. He whipped around, and found Mabel and her bouncing ball had vanished.
"What the heck is going on?" he grumbled as he panned around the room. No sight of Mabel, or even a sound. On edge, but shaking off the realization he may be going crazy, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
Right where Mabel was floating above him, grinning her widest.
Stan screamed and rolled off the bed with a thud. Groaning and rubbing his shoulder, he scrambled for the door exiting his room, and pulled. It wouldn't open. The door knob wouldn't turn! It was as solid as rock! Stan whipped around and watched as Mabel's form descended to the ground, emanating a faint glow which matched that of ghosts he had seen in the past.
"Hi, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel said happily. "Are you excited for tomorrow?"
"Y-you're not Mabel," he pointed to her.
"You're right!" she nodded and bounced the ball.
"Who, or what, are you?" he demanded as he straightened himself up, aware of the entity he stared at mimicking his grand-niece.
"I'm a spirit," it announced with a bow, "A spirit of awesome, totally coolness that's here to show you," the Mabel look-alike stepped back and bowed, "The light of the past."
"Uh... wait, you're a ghost?" Stan asked, "That just looks like Mabel?"
"Not particularly," The ghost raised herself up, floating right up to Stan, who pressed himself against the door. "I look like a person from your past whomever I speak to holds dear. You care for me, Mabel," she said, with a spin as she lowered herself to the ground, "So boom! Here I am!"
"Then what actually are you?!" Stan demanded.
"I'm the ghost of Summerween past," it said.
"Summerween... past?" he repeated.
"Yes! Specifically, your past," she said, "After all, I have you, Fiddleford, and Stanford to thank for that," she said with a wide, warm grin.
Stan gulped and began to side-step her. "Look, I'm touched you took Arline seriously to do this prank, "Stan told her, "But this is enough. I want to sleep. Old men need rest."
"Pfft. Rest is for the weak! Or uninspired," Mabel told him as she blew a raspberry.
"I'm not going anywhere this tired," he told her with his arms crossed.
Mabel frowned and crossed her arms as she looked to the ceiling. Then she snapped her fingers. "I know! We'll just wake you up!" And Mabel flew forward, grasped Stan by the collar and punched her other first upwards. "Mabel away!"
Stan roared his loudest and shrillest he had in a very long time. The ceiling above him splintered and exploded as he and Mabel tore through the wood like it was tissue and leaves. Below him was the world, spinning and distant in blue, brown and green. Above him now as he rocketed into the sky was dark blue and specks of white. He was flying now, suspended only in the air by the will of the impostor spirit Mabel.
"See? Good rush of excitement!" Mabel laughed as she held Stan by the tips of her fingers.
"Put me down!" he demanded.
"Nope! Not until we get somewhere," she told him with a cackle.
"You're kidnapping your own grand-uncle! Stop it, or your grounded!" Stan warned her.
She merely laughed. "I'm not actually Mabel, Grunkle Stan," Mabel told him, her bright white smiled covered with braces. "I just look, talk, and think like her! So, buckle up! We're in for a ride!"
"No! No! Stop!" Stan roared as the spirit took a nose dive towards the earth. The trees of Gravity Falls grew closer and closer, soon he rushed past their canopies, passed their branches, and Stan tossed up his arms. The ground was inches from him and he clenched his eyes shut!
He felt gravity properly underneath him. Stan lowered his hands and opened his eyes with a few careful blinks. Mabel, or the Ghost of Summerween Past, was laughing and pointing at him.
Unamused, Stan grumbled, "Ha-ha-ha, yeah, make fun of the mortal for thinking he was going to die, thanks," Stan told the ghost, "Also, you owe me for the roof you blew up back there."
"Oh hush, you grouchy grumble butt," Mabel stuck her tongue out at him. "Look around," she said, waving her arm around, "Recognize anything?"
Stan did as was asked, and frowned. It wasn't the woods anymore, that was for sure. He was by a school. New pavement and concrete were laid onto the ground, and large chain-link fence was behind him. As Stan looked ahead, he realized where he was, in a single heart-fluttering moment.
"School," Stan muttered, "Jersey Academy for Youngsters."
No longer was it night, and no longer was he alone with ghost Mabel. Kids of varying sizes and ages walked around them, talking animatedly.
"This is what, exactly?" Mabel asked.
"My second school. Where me and-"
"Hey, Stanford!"
Stan shut his mouth. He spun, turning to see a trio of thug-looking kids approach a boy, much smaller than them while reading through thick glasses. He entirely ignored them until the smaller of the trio rushed forward and swiped away his book. He gasped and reached out but another of the trio pushed him back while chuckling.
"Give it back, Ralph!" young Stanford Pines demanded.
"You damn punks!" Stan rushed forward and swiped at the book the third kid had, who hadn't noticed Stan, "Give my brother back his book!" Yet his hand swiped through his body, leaving no change of the scene. "Wait, what?"
The image of Mabel walked up next to him. "Grunkle Stan, this is just a memory," Mabel told him, "You're just like me here – a ghost. They don't even know you're here."
Stan looked back just as his younger twin fell to the ground after being pushed. He gritted his teeth and stomped his foot. Then another kid, remarkably similar to Stanford, leapt from behind, tackling the bigger of the three to the ground.
"Not today, suckers!" the newcomer said triumphantly, and punched the face of the fallen punk twice. He whipped around at the other two, who gasped and tossed the book aside before running. "Jerks," he grumbled, standing up and handing the book back to his brother. "Boxing, good for character," young Stanley Pines told his twin.
Stanford looked up to his brother, receiving a hand to be pulled back to his feet. "Dad can say whatever he wants," Stanford grumbled as he took the book and adjusted his glasses, "Being punched doesn't build character. It builds brain damage."
"At least then you wouldn't be picked on," Stanley pointed out. Stanford spun around, putting his book into his sack. Youngster Stanley asked grinning as he patted his brother's shoulder, "So, you ready for tonight?"
"You bet I am!" Stanford grinned through his thick glasses.
"Wait," the older Stanley Pines gasped, and looked around, realizing that the leaves were all orange, red, brown and yellow, "It's-"
"Halloween!" the young twins and old man simultaneously cried out.
"Hah! I knew there was a reason I was ready to tackle a dude twice as big as me," Grunkle Stan told Mabel with a grin, "Aside from picking on my brother. You don't mess with a Pines on our favorite Holiday!"
"No kidding," Mabel said with a satisfied grin, "You really banged up that one kid."
"He was asking for it," Stan told her, "Pushing my brother around. This is the one day we have fun, and I don't let anyone get in the way of that. We used to have so much fun," Stan sighed, scratching the side of the face as he felt a great weight lift from his body like an evaporating mist. He looked to Mabel, who shocked him. She was... frowning. "What?" he asked.
"Here," she waved her hand in front of his face.
Stan blinked, and then gasped.
No longer was he in the home he had known for almost forty years of his life. He was in a different home – an older home. Still located in the eastern coast, they were just outside the window of his father's pawn shop. Stan could smell the shore of Jersey. The old man gasped as he felt his neck, allowing the hairs now standing on end to brush against his hand. The sun had just set, and the ending glow of coming night beckoned him. The lights were all off in the home as Stan focused around him. Pictures of witches and pumpkins decorated the walls around him.
Stanford strolled to the shop door. He looked around, and saw it was empty of other people, filled with useless junk sold for top notch prices. There was laughter, deeper inside. Stan approached the hallway ahead.
The spitting image of Mabel asked, "You remember all of this?" stepping next to him as he looked around the kitchen.
"Yup. In all of its glory," he said with a grin, and then two figures rushed past him. "And... my brother."
Time must have passed, as the version of Stanford Pines was much older than Grunkle Stan had just seen. He was about the same age as Dipper, and to Stans great amusement, looked twice the dork Dipper ever did. Wearing their old, homemade costumes, Grunkle Stan watched teenage Stanford and Stanley splash each other with something red. Dripping with dyed corn-syrup, the twins cackled as they checked the mirror.
Teenage Stanford told his brother, "John will go nuts when he sees us."
"You think Felicia will run first, or him?" Stanley asked as he applied more syrup to his face.
"John," Stanford nodded, "Definitely john."
Stan gasped and sighed as he stared at the younger memories of himself. Mabel stepped before them as they cackled further, reminding themselves of the coming exploit.
"You and your brother found a lot of joy in our sibling holiday," Mabel told him, "Halloween."
"Yeah, you could say that," Grunkle Stan shrugged.
"Could? C'mon Grunkle Stan," Mabel turned and pointed just as the two brothers began to flick at each other with the corn syrup. "You two worshipped it!"
"Why shouldn't we!?" Stan barked, stepping past her to watch himself and his brother play. "It was the only time of the year when freaks like us... finally had a chance to get back at the world without punishment. When the freaks like us were celebrated. A holiday for freaks like... me and my brother."
The doorbell rang, and all three Stans whipped away from the mirror. The two younger ones grinned and punched each other, vanishing into the shadows as Stan rubbed his hands together.
Grunkle Stan smirked, "Ohhh, this is going to be good."
"What do you and Stanley have up your sleeve?" Mabel asked, following Stan towards the front door.
"You'll see. In order to become master of fright," Stan told Mabel as he pushed his hand against the wall, and realized he could step through it, like it weren't there, "I had to start somewhere." Stan stepped out of the hallway. "You see Mabel – err, ghost of whatever," Stan looked behind him as Mabel stepped out, "Dad wouldn't ever stick around for Halloween. Couldn't do business with all the trick or treating; he took to the road. So, bro and I? We had our work cut out for us being the scariest in the neighborhood."
Stans stepped outside, finding himself not by the shop entrance, but by a side-entrance that the family and friends of the Pines used. Directly before Grunkle Stan and the image of Mabel was a young woman dressed like a nurse and a blond man dressed as suited Dracula. As the two stared at the door, looking nervously around, Stan's smile began to widen further and further.
"Hey, fellas?" the girl called to the door. "Are you home?"
"C'mon Felicia," the boyfriend named John said, putting an arm around her, "We should probably get going."
"But the twins said they'd come with us to the party," she said and pushed him aside, knocking on the door again. "Guys! Mister Pines?" she called.
"See? They aren't here. Let's get going already," John asked of her, poking at his fake fangs inside his mouth. From the side of the home, Stanford stepped out. Gasping and holding onto his stomach, he stumbled closer, eyes wide with terror as he got into Johns sight. The friend gasped and spun, "F-Felicia!"
"Huh? What is it-" she turned and saw her friend moving towards her, and shrieked. "Stanford!"
"R-run," Stanford gurgled as he fell to his knees. He let his hand move from his stomach, and the goopy puddle of corn syrup fell away into the grass of his lawn, leaving a huge, fake gash in his stomach. Yet the effect, couple with his tolerable acting as he collapsed to the side, sold the scene to John and Felicia. The man whimpered and pulled her away just as Stanley stepped out from a bush, holding a shovel at his side.
"Only one Stan allowed in this town!" Stanford roared as he swung the shovel above his head, flinging strings of crimson corn syrup around. "Witnesses are going to die! DIE! DIE-" Stanford leapt at the two. The two friends shrieked out, holding each other as doom certainly came to them. Then, relenting, Stan slid to a stop and began to laugh, dropping his shovel.
"Classic!" Stan roared next to Mabel.
"Guys!" Felicia gasped and shoved Stanley to the ground. He collapsed next to his twin, who grinned and chuckled as Stanford held his stomach from his cackles. The girl stomped at the ground, "That wasn't funny at all!"
"We disagree," Stanford pointed out as he wiped some of the syrup from his forehead.
"Hey, yeah, me too," Grunkle Stan added with a smirk.
"They can't hear you?" Mabel reminded him.
The clearly shaken friend, John, added, "Yeah, it was pretty funny," stepping out from behind his girlfriend as he pushed the messy looking shovel away with his foot.
"There! See? John's a good sport about it," Stanford pointed to the blond on the walkway.
"And an even better scare," Stanley chuckled.
"I-I wasn't scared," John proclaimed, adjusting his suit. The twins devilishly grinned as Felicia scoffed. "I was just, uh, startled. Yeah! That's it – startled."
"So, where's this party you're taking us to, 'oh so easily startled one'?" Stanley asked as he stood up quickly and helped up his brother.
"We'll take you now," Felicia asked them, "If you're done acting like a bunch of goons." In response, the twins began to amble forward, leaving their mouths open like a bunch of zombies. She groaned. "Total blockheads."
"More like 'bloodheads'," Stanford admitted. He and Stanley stepped next to the pair, and they began to leave behind Stan and Mabel.
Mabel looked up to Stan. "You had friends in high school."
"Don't act so surprised," Stan glared at her. She gave him a raised eyebrow, and Stan added a small, "Eventually. The twin thing helped," Stan explained, "If Stanford found someone who liked him, I had a chance to meet 'em too. Same with the other way around, if I ever found friends. But, we had each other's back a lot. Well... most of the time," Stan darkly added.
"Sounds like you had a lot of love for Halloween, ya big numbskull" Mabel stated.
Stan let himself grin. Those days were better. Not the best, but better. He had found a niche in life. He was growing to be a wide shouldered, strong minded, handsome man with a smarter brother than he could have ever anticipated. He remembered that feeling of a certain future. Then, near the end of that story, when Stanford would graduate...
Stan swallowed down that memory. Grunkle Stan glared down at Mabel. "So, are you done showing me my past?" Stan asked hopefully, "Because I'm not sure what you're trying to get across to me. It's not working though, whatever it is."
"That's because you're looking at Halloween, the holiday that started Summerween, dummy," Mabel told him, pointing up at him with accusation. "You don't remember the sweat you and your brother put into those costumes – tearing up those shirts and mixing up that syrupy-"
"I remember," Stan told her quickly, "It's not something I easily forget."
"Then you won't have forgotten how Summerween came to be," She told him.
Stan's eyes widened and his inner mind trembled. "No," he pleaded, "Don't take me there. You've already shown me enough-"
"Sorry, Grunkle Stan," Mabel sighed as she waved her hand, and the world grew dark and quiet at the same time, "Tour's not over yet."
"No! I don't want to-"
Stan was silenced. The world faded around him, and then grew back to exist. He stepped closer to her and then was stunned. He was now staring at a build that one would day be named the Mystery Shack. A rough construction in the middle of the woods in a barely developed town only known as Gravity Falls, the building had only enough room for one person, reasonably. Stan knew that, at the point he was staring in history and for two years straight, it had managed for not two but three. Stan yelped as the door burst open. A younger, more muscular, and angrier version of himself stomped out, covered in scratches and bandages on his arms.
A voice from within the building called out, "Stanley!"
Grunkle Stan gasped as he whipped around, a hand at his heart.
Stan begged aloud, "No, I don't want to be here," not entirely to Mabel, as he watched his equally aged twin brother follow him out. Stanford had also grown out physically, but still wore thick glasses and was relatively dwarfed by his brother. At the door behind Stanley was a thin, scrawny man with a long nose and brown mullet stepped out apprehensively. Grunkle Stan shook his head, "Ah, c'mon, Fiddleford," he grumbled.
"Grunkle Stan, you need to remember this," Mabel told him sadly.
Grunkle Stan barked back, "Why? What's good to remember here? Just a whole lot of... lot of pain."
"What?" the younger Stanley barked at his brother.
"Would you let the poor man explain himself?" Stanford told him.
"That's all he does! Explain! Explain! Yadda, yadda, yadda!" Stanley yelled to the darkening sky above.
Fiddleford McGucket, long before his descent into memory abuse, adjusted his glasses. He spoke in a gentle twang but carried a certain posture to his voice. "I'm sorry, Stanley, Stanford" the scientist behind said.
Stanford facepalmed with six fingers. "Fiddleford, it's okay," Stanford assured him, "My brother is just being a prissy little princess."
"Call me a what?!" Stanley demanded of his brother, rounding on him. Stanley faced him directly, now face to face.
Stanford wasn't budging from his spot. "I bet you fifty bucks that if you had those scratches on you later, and had babes around you, you'd be shrugging off those cuts like it was nothing, not wining about how much they sting," Stanford told him.
Stanley opened his mouth several times, as if on each occasion ready to retort with a new, more clever response. Yet his brother continued to glare at him, and finally Stanley relented and pouted, spinning away.
Mabel looked to Grunkle Stan. "Tough break, huh?" Mabel asked to the older Stanford, who solemnly watched the scene.
Grunkle Stan rubbed the back of his neck. It burned without pain; an itch under the surface he couldn't scratch. He remembered this night too well. He explained, "We had just dealt with the gnomes as enemies for the first time. Discovered they had borders to the woods, and I discovered they were pretty much indestructible," Stan explained. "It was one of the few nights we were all beat together."
True to Stan's word, the three looked exhausted. Stanley was physically beaten and worn; showing stained patches of blood on his shirt from quite the struggle. Stanford's hair looked tangled and messy, and he was smeared with dirt and grime. Fiddleford H. McGucket's shirt and tie were messy and tangled, and his glasses were entirely lop-sided. It looked like the three of them had gone through quite the tumble.
Stan looked away, holding his arm. "Can we go now, please?" Stan asked Mabel.
"Not yet," Mabel glared at him, "Hold your horses, amigo."
"You know, I need to blow of some steam," younger Stanley suddenly declared to the sky.
"Same here," McGucket added.
Stanley laughed. "And how does that work for you? Go through some of your math problems?"
"No," Fiddleford stated, but folded his arms and adjusted his glasses, "Not all the time. Sometimes I re-invent the rubix cube with different geometries."
As Stanley barked his laugh, Stanford sighed and rubbed his forehead too. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm feeling the same way."
"What?" Stanley cackled, "You want to go egghead with Fiddle-worth over here?"
"No," Ford rolled his eyes, "Blow off steam. You know, do something fun that we're going to entirely own in every regard," Stanford told Stanley and Fiddleford. "Like a, uh... haunted house or something."
"Ugh! Not more responsibility," Stanley groaned.
Fiddleford nodded. "As rare as it is to agree with Stanley on anything relating our works," McGucket told Stanford, "I reckon he's right. Let's not start any more projects that require maintenance."
Stanford puzzled, scratching his chin with extra fingers. "Then... maybe what we need," Stanford looked between them, "Is something that has built-in self-maintenance."
Stanley blinked, and looked around the woods, hopeful for a clue. "Yeah, I don't follow," Stanley shrugged.
Stanford sighed. "Something that we make that doesn't need us to watch over it," Stanford suggested, "Something that is so easy and enjoyable that we don't even consider it a chore-"
"And that sounds a lot like Halloween," Stanley pointed out to Stanley. The twin gasped.
"It does! Maybe-" Stanley said.
"We should-"
"Put costumes on-"
"And scare the-"
"Pants off of-"
"The entire town!"
The twins celebrated their brainstorming together, leaping into the air and high-sixing proudly. Stanley landed and held his arm to the side, wincing at the cuts and small bite-marks all along his arm. Stanford, only realizing a moment too late, reached out, worried he had caused more damage to his brother.
"As fun and, uh, spooky, as it all sounds," Fiddleford added with a timid raise of his finger, "Gentlemen, it's the end of June. Halloween ain't around for three more months."
"Heck to that," Stanley declared.
"Right," Stanford grinned, "I'm not going to let one night of total fun and scaring the pants off an entire town be ruined because the calendar decides for us when we can do that! Fiddleford, you in?" Stanford asked, holding out a hand to the timid scientists. Running a hand through his hair, McGucket slowly made his choice. With a sigh, he extended his hand and shook hands with Stanford.
"I might as well see what sorta tactics you two were talking about. 'Masters of Fright' is quite the impressive title," he told them with a faint grin.
"To the closets!" Stanley declared, "Find your worst shirts and pants, and prepare to utterly destroy them!"
"Oh, must we?" McGucket whined as both arms of his were taken by the twins, and he was dragged back inside the building, hoisted up into the air with ease. As the door closed behind them, Grunkle Stan crossed his arms and walked away.
"Grunkle Stan, don't you want to watch you create a holiday?" Mabel asked, skipping to keep up with him.
"No."
"Why not?" she asked. "It's pretty influential," she pointed out.
"Because this is stupid," he told her, refusing to look back, "Now take me home," he grumbled, "I want to sleep."
"Grunkle Stan," Mabel leapt before him, "You're ignoring the love you once had for this holiday! Once, this meant everything to you! It was your holiday: the one you and your brother breathed life into!"
"At what cost?" Stan asked her, his heavy gaze fixing itself to hers. Mabel closed her mouth, her expecting energy draining the longer he looked at her. "Mabel, what if I had just decided to have enough and leave town?"
"I don't know," she admitted.
"Stanford may never have gotten further with the portal. McGucket may never had tolerated me! Maybe he would have also left, and not lost his mind!" Stan groaned as he pushed a hand into his eyes. "I could have ended all their suffering in the future by just walking away from it all then and there. I was ready to, Mabel! Instead... we got together again and, and..."
Stan sighed and sat by a log, feeling the pressure in his chest cause the world to feel heavier than it should. With his hands covering his face, he could only hear Mabel step next to him until she patted his shoulder.
"Stanley Pines," she said, voice of Mabel but not the words, "You've done more than just 'ruin the lives' of two men. You've given a whole population of two thousand people something to enjoy. Look."
Mabel waved her hand, and spun him around, showing their location as changed. They were now in the middle of the small town. The populace had gathered by the town hall, holding up fliers excitedly, with the words 'Summerween' on them.
"The town loved it! Sure, the old residents thought you were Satan, and his cohorts, come to invade earth," Mabel shrugged, "But the kids thought it was awesome to have two Halloweens, parents liked it because it gave kids a chance to get outside more, and shopkeepers loved it because soda and candy got sold again! You gave a whole new holiday and they named it the following day. Summerween; by non-other than Fiddleford H. McGucket."
Stan pointed out, "And the man doesn't even remember. It was a stupid name, anyway," Stan protested as he stared at the dozens of people walking into town hall.
"I think what you suggested was Summer-Halloween?" Mabel told him. He grumbled, and Mabel stepped before him. "Stanley, please. You need to remember why this holiday was created, and what it gives people in the present."
"I remember, yeesh, don't cram it down my neck," he told her as he shook his head. "Now take me home already."
"Your love for the holiday needs to realized again," she told him.
"I do love the holiday," he growled.
"Then how can you stand to turn away from it's past?" she asked. The voice was Mabel, but the tone was strangely adult, mature. It didn't fit his grand-niece at all. Stan ground his teeth and looked away. The image of Mabel added, "You've let the memory of losing your brother pin you down, Stanley Pines."
Stan felt out of breath after that comment. "Don't try telling me what to feel about my brother!" Stan told her, "I've lost so much, and you-"
"Stanley Pines, you must look to your time and move on from the past. Otherwise, you will be forced to watch... the past repeat and escalate," she told him.
"W-What?!" he gasped, and stepped closer, "Escalate? Tell me what will happen!?"
"I can't. That's not what I am, Grunkle Stan," Mabel told him, "I'm just the past. I am what was, not what is, and I am most certainly not... what could be."
"Dang it, you impostor spook! You tell me why I should believe you, or I'll drag you right to my actual grand-niece and have her deal with you herself!" Stan threatened. Mabel only shrugged and sighed, wiggling a finger before his face.
"I'm not to be trifled with, Stanley. I'm a powerful spirit. Well, maybe one day I will be," she admitted with a sad sigh.
Stan had enough. He lunged forward, tackling the spirit of Mabel, and the past of Summerween. He rushed forward and fell at the ground, tussling the agile spirit. As he struggled against her will, suddenly Stan felt the urge to sneeze. Without warning, his body tensed up, he slammed his eyes shut and roared a sneeze.
When he opened them, he was sitting upright in his bed, half under covers and half out of them.
"Wait, what?" he said to himself, slowly looking around. There was no sign of the Spirit of Summerween Past, nor any sign as he glanced upwards, of the damage it had caused to the ceiling. Had it been just one, long, very complex dream? He looked around, and spotted a bullet hole in the wall he had shot. His mind then flickered as he remembered a certain threat, by a certain woman, who was staying in a certain motel room.
With a growl, Stan swiped the covers aside and marched to his door, twisted and pulled on the handle, and swung it aside as he marched out.
And yet, not a single carol in sight. What the heck is this blatant false-advertising!? SOMEONE HAS HECK TO PAY!
So if you know what I am literally ripping off, good. I have nothing to explain. But because I can't be too sure if the world knows what this is, let me explain anyway. (Still, good for you for knowing what this is based off of. :D)
This is a parody of a famous story by Charles Dickens, merely titled 'A Christmas Carol'. In it, Ebeneezer Scrooge, an old curmudgeonly miser is visited by several spirits, who all enlighten him to his mistakes of being a horrible human being. He slowly re-learns the spirit of not just Christmas, but of the generosity of Mankind.
Hopefully this all sounds somewhat familiar to you. At least maybe in 'theory'. :p
Part two is just around the corner. Then we meet the spirit of Summerween Present and then the dreaded Spirit of Summerween yet to come. Hope you enjoyed, and remember-
(A huge vat of boiling pudding is dropped onto EZB, encasing him in a chocolate demise of lava-like sweetness. Not the worst way to go, certainly.)