Ask the Stans

Ford: What do you mean, “Who writes sentences like that?”? *He puts a finger to his chin, trying to remember.* Hm, I do recall running out of room and having to write part of it on the next page in my last journal, but… it’s a perfectly sound sentence to me. Besides, what idiot would go into a Gremloblin encounter without reading the advice pages beforehand, and then approaching one?

Stan: Yeah, what knucklehead just does dangerous crap without readin’ the whole instruction, first?

*Dipper, who has been sitting at the living room table in the Shack listening to the Stan brothers respond to the question on their laptop camera, starts to nervously sweat in the corner. Mabel is sitting next to him putting together… some craft amalgamation of glitter and sequins everywhere, sweetly humming.*

Dipper: Y-yeah, you tell ‘em, guys! I mean, come on, yeah, what idiot would just… you know… *The sweating intensifies.* Go into a supernatural encounter and just… not know not to throw water on a Gremloblin? Amateur, am I right? 

Mabel: *Pauses her humming and crafting.* Aw, don’t be embarrassed, Dipper. It’s not like you messed up on purpose with the Gremloblin that day. 

*The room turns silent, except for Mabel continuing her humming. Ford and Stan look at Dipper for an awkward, long pause, and Dipper just sweats more, if that’s even possible.*

Dipper: *Voice cracking.* Oooookay, well… w-what matters is, is we, um… saved the day anyway! And I was the one who figured out the mirror trick to defeat him. The gift shop might have gotten… sort of wrecked, and cost thousands in damages, and it almost killed us, but I figured out a Gremloblin weakness that Grunkle Ford never did. So there.

Ford: Having been drinking some Mabel Juice, he spits it out and coughs. Ford wipes his mouth properly on a napkin - unlike Stan who is sitting across the table just wiping his mouth on his sleeve while eating some fried chicken - and chuckles nervously.

Ah, well... that's... a fascinating question, Anon. Let's see... the weirdest thing I've eaten...

Ford gets a thousand yard stare of what must be decades of strange experiences, his eye occasionally twitching, looking a bit nauseous at some of the memories. Whatever he's remembering, it sure isn't anything Michelin 5 star. Or 1 star. Er... or 'questionable origin gas station sushi in the most disgusting reaches of the Multiverse' level edible, for that matter.

Realizing he's taking too long to answer, he chuckles nervously again.

Apologies, it's just... there were so many culinary delights that I-

Stan: He spits out a bone from the chicken he's eating and, looking quite unimpressed, he answers for Ford. Well, there's the time he ate a literal planet. Oh, or the time he had to eat the thousands of years dead corpses of some aliens where the only thing left on 'em by that point was their, er... "bottom" ends. Somethin' about bein' made of different stuff than us that makes 'em decompose slower, he said. He shrugs. Said it tasted like roasted dust and, well... ass, go figure. But that's not even the worst thing he told me. Because one time-

Ford: Looking rather pissed and embarrassed. Stan, we probably should just leave it at that. It was pure survival, nothing more. There was nothing else in that dimension for me to eat.

Stan: With a grin. Oh, you're sayin' I shouldn't talk about the "secretions" meal you had once?

Ford: Yes! That's precisely what we shouldn't talk about!

There's a long pause, where Ford looks ready to slaughter someone, and Stan is just smirking and chewing on his chicken without a care in the world. Then he shrugs and blurts it.

Stan: Long story short, it involved Ford, some starvation, and some fresh - what he called - "secretions" from-

Ford: Getting up from the table and ready to lunge. Can it, Stan! I was desperate! I'd have starved had I not-

Stan: He interrupts. What's that? He turns the camera of the laptop towards Ford's face. Is that a shit-eating grin I see on your face, Sixer?

It is definitely not a shit-eating grin. It's an "I'm going to turn my brother into taxidermy" one. At that, Ford actually lunges, and Stan cackles as he gets up and starts running with the laptop in hand, finishing his reply over the video.

Ha! I'm gonna tell 'em all your secrets, and you can't stop me!

Ford: IT WAS EDIBLE IN THAT DIMENSION, IT WAS NOT SHIT, AND I WAS STARVING!

Stan: Oh really? It came from the ass-end of somethin' weird. Sounds like shit to me!

Ford: SECRETIONS, Stanley! Like milk from cows!

Stan: What!? How is alien ass-udder juice any better!?

The view on the laptop from here on out is a mix of Stan cackling, Ford looking about ready to kill Stan, all set in a wobble of the camera bouncing as Stan runs with Ford in close pursuit behind him.

Stan and Ford: At the same time. You mean Square-mie?

Both of them laugh, not in a harsh way, but the kind of lighthearted chuckles that usually come from one sibling teasing another. It's obvious they love their older brother, but... like most siblings, they'll always jump on a chance to make fun of one another.

Stan: Oh, he always hated that nickname! Look, Anon, lemme first introduce ya to the official scale of Pines fun-ness. At the top, there's me, for obvious reasons. Second best is Mabel, also for obvious reasons. And... He pauses, putting his hand to his chin. Damn, I gotta say, I think Ford's next-

Ford: I am as much of an adventurer as I am a scientist.

Stan: Yeah, definitely Ford, despite his dorkiness and obsession with... He gestures at Ford's honors and trophies for grades and intelligence related successes from childhood. That garbage. Good grades and other crap. And then-

Ford: Definitely our nephew, Dipper and Mabel's father. Works in IT, very smart, has a little bit more of Mabel's fun-loving nature. But far less adventurous than you or I. You and I could never live a boring suburban life like he does.

Stan: Grinning. Then, near the very bottom, you've got Dipper. No offense to the kid, but he's Ford's smarts but minus Ford's rebel streak. Walkin' wet blanket at times, always askin' how many laws we're breakin' while we're out havin' fun... although me and Ford are teachin' 'im to grow past it, as much as his parents will let us corrupt 'im. But he at least likes to have fun, I'll give 'im that. So that leaves us at-

Ford: Way at the very bottom of the Pines fun-ness scale, you have... Square-mie. He coughs. Shermie, sorry.

Both men howl with snorts and laughter again, barely able to explain why.

Stan: Wiping a tear from his eye, wheezing a bit. Okay, okay, Anon, picture this: take Dipper and his dad's wet blanket crap and crank it up to 1000. This guy? Our brother? Good ol' Saint Sherm? Guy's never even had a parking ticket his entire life! He won't even jaywalk! He never goes even one mile per hour above the speed limit! He's like the human equivalent of white bread. Of unflavored oatmeal. Got average grades, got a boring old suburban house with a literal white picket fence, had an average job-

Ford: Shudders. I have no idea how he worked as an IRS accountant for decades.

Stan: Ugh, don't remind me. He's always barkin' at me. "Stan, you pay your taxes yet this year?" this. "Stan, you need to contribute to your civic duty.", that. Cripes, ol' Sherm is like the anti-Pines. A Pines is supposed to laugh in the face of rules and authority. This guy huffs whatever authority's smokin' like he's part of a cult. Even when we were kids, he'd always do chores even when he wasn't asked. Kept his room clean as a whistle. Barked at me to do my homework and foiled our pranks when he could. Pure goody two shoes, so much he'd make an angel blush. I think all of our Ma's rebellion genes went to us, and Pa's strictness went to Sherm.

Ford: Yes, so after I returned and we explained to him what had happened, he...

Both men fall into a snicker fest again, unsure who will stop laughing first long enough to tell the story.

Stan: Holy mackerel, he... he... Snort. Picture Dipper at, like, seventy years old, but with an even bigger stick up his ass and even less muscles somehow. Gets told this long, convoluted as hell tale about me fakin' my death and pretendin' to be Ford for three decades, Ford gettin' lost in sci-fi sideburn land for just as long, the world almost ending with Sherm's grandkids along for the ride... just mind bendin' stuff... and the first words outta his mouth... and for reference, this guy never swears, and he never has thrown a punch at anyone... he's so square he's a cube! But he just says...

He wheezes, so Ford has to finish the story.

Ford: Snort. He raises his voice a bit, likely to mimic Shermie's. "I just knew I shoulda kicked your asses more when we were kids."

The two howl and cackle with laughter, leaning on each other for support.

Stan: And then he just... walked away, out his door, down the street to the gas station, bought beer for the - and I'm not kidding - the first time in his life, and sat back down in his old man chair and faced us as we just stood there, gobsmacked, while he cracked one open and drank it with an expression like a man betrayed. And he said-

Ford: "You two knuckleheads are lucky I'm even older than you, 'cause if I wasn't, I'd plant my loafer up your ass! You're gonna sit down, shut up, and let me drink this crap while I process whatever the f*ck I just heard and how many goddamn taxes you owe. And then maybe I'll think about huggin' your sorry asses."

More laughing.

Stan: I'm not sure if he was more mad about the taxes, or the fact that I'd faked my death all those years ago, or... the world ending part where Dipper and Mabes coulda been hurt... or maybe because we drove him to drink and swear and threaten someone for the first time in his whole goddamn life, all in the same day, he... Chuckles. He never really said. All I know is, is I don't think I've ever had my jaw that close to the floor in my life.

Ford: Honestly, I think we just kind of... broke him. Even still, I think he blew our minds more than we blew his.

Stan: He laughs a bit more, then shakes his head. Pfft, can you imagine Sherm kickin' our asses, anyway? He'd probably gently nudge one of our shins and give up. He's too nice for anything worse. That's the thing with our brother: he may be boring as sin, but... he's a good guy.

Ford: He always protected us from bullies when we were kids. Carried us home whenever we sprained an ankle or broke a bone.

Stan: And bought us ice cream whenever we asked, and fixed our bikes, and patched us up, scared the "monsters" outta our closet, and taught us most of what we know. Kind of like a second Dad, honestly, and one a lot less grumpy. A bit more somber. And he helped our parents out in their old age when we weren't around, until the... well, you know. 'Til the end.

Ford: His smile fades, then he sighs, expression a bit bittersweet. And he did actually hug us.

Stanley: Oh boy, here we go. Anon, I'll give ya one piece of advice when it comes to dealin' with my brother Ford: do not - and I repeat - do NOT remind 'im of anything he's either good at or proud of. Your ears will thank me.

Stanford: I'll translate that for you. He means to say, "I'm the younger twin, and I'm incredibly insecure about it.". There.

Stanley: Pfft, like a few minutes means anything!

All of the sudden, Dipper and Mabel walk into the room, looking quite bored. They see Ford and Stan having an argument and they both get sly smirks.

Mabel: Grunkle fight?

Dipper: Grunkle fight.

Stanley: Kids, that's not gonna work. I'm not gettin' into a fight with Sixer here just for your entertainment. Besides, I'm right: a few minutes doesn't matter. And even if it did, me and Ford are past fighting over petty crap now, because we're mature adults.

Dipper and Mabel give each other a skeptical look.

Stanley: Oh, wow, uh... ya know, I thought I left hooked that guy into oblivion? How the hell is he able to write a book? We erased him from my mind, so... is this like a 'found' book from before he bit the dust, or...? *He starts to sweat a bit nervously. Well, more than he normally sweats.* 'Cause if it's not, then... that has some... ah... interestin' implications...

*Stan starts to sweat even more and looks around the Shack from where he's sitting in his plaid yellow chair, as if to check if he's alone. Dipper and Mabel can be heard in the kitchen laughing about something, and Ford is nowhere to be seen.*

*Whispering, talking as fast as he can.* Actually, can you keep a secret, ask blog readers? There's somethin' I gotta tell ya that I can't tell anyone else here 'cause I don't wanna scare my family, and I don't have much time to say it before-

*He shakes his head and nervously taps his fingers together, glancing around the living room.*

Look, I've been havin' these weird ass dreams lately. Then I sometimes wake up in a completely different place than I sacked out and-

*Stan suddenly stops and looks at the ground for a while with a thousand-yard, frightened stare, as if he's completely somewhere else. Then he looks back up, right into the reader's eye.*

*Smiling his good old conman grin.* Ya know what? Forget it! I'm right as rain! Just some dumb dreams, is all. So Bill has a dusty old book comin' out, you say? You should definitely buy it! Buy hundreds of copies and give one to everyone you know! At the very least, it'll be funny watchin' Sixer get outsold by Bill and mope about it. He wishes his dumb journals could get as much attention!

*His stare gets more intense as he leans in closer, so close that only one of his eyes can be seen.*

And make sure you keep your copy with ya at all times! Specifically, make sure the eye is always facin' you. For no reason in particular. I mean, Bill is gone, right? There's no harm in doin' that, right? It'll be like havin' a best friend always watchin' your back!

Stanley: Shh, don't let Poindexter overhear ya! He's gonna kill me if he finds out-

Stanford: *Walking into the room, preoccupied with a demonic owl chick of some sort that's currently sleeping in his hair.* Ah, Stan, I see you're answering another ask from our blog. What's this one about?

Stanley: N-nothin'! *Switches to another internet tab quick.* Nothin' at all, don't worry about it, it's a question for me. Totally boring.

Stanford: Oh, really? *Raises brow.* Then why did the question start with 'Ford'? You know, my name?

Stanley: Uh...

*Stan glances around and starts to sweat bullets. How best to distract Ford? Then Stan grins. He knows just the trick.*

Stanley: Ya know... a more important question to ask, is... is the Patterson-Gimlin film legit?

Stanford: *A very intense, serious expression carves through his face. It's the face of a man with a strong opinion and just the right amount of ire to defend it, perhaps fueled by years of arguments over this very same exact question; a look akin to what someone on Twitter pulls right before they decide compassion and humanity is overrated, and being right is more important as they begin to rage-smash their keyboard.* Stan, I'm glad you asked. Because I think you're smart enough - and spent enough years as a conman - to know the difference between something real and something faked. The Patterson film is real, and I, Dr. Stanford Filbrick Pines, the world's greatest paranormal scientist and cryptozoologist, will die on this hill.

Stanley: Yes, exactly! *Stan looks relieved that the distraction worked.* Of course I agree. I mean, why wouldn't I? You tell 'em, Ford! Tell the world how legit the Patterson film is. Preferably in a different room than this one with your, uh... *Stan looks at the demonic owl chick sleeping in Ford's hair.* Whatever that is.

Stanford: *Smugly petting said demonic owl chick.* Hm, a better idea would be to utilize our ask blog to educate the populace on supernatural concepts such as this. I always wanted a platform to extend my knowledge to the world. I mean, teaching math to a whale was impressive enough, but imagine the paranormal knowledge I could spread with the power of the internet! *He chuckles.* Bill Nye and Neil DeGrasse Tyson better watch out, because a new popular scientist in media is in town. Stan, for the sake of knowledge, I'm going to need you to let me borrow our blog laptop for the afternoon.

Stanley: *Sweating bullets again.* W-what!? Not right now, Ford! You can have it later when I'm done with this one question. Just... gimme a little bit longer-

Stanford: Science cannot wait, Stanley. Hand it over.

Stanley: Alright, fine! Just lemme type somethin' quick and- h-hey!

Stanford: *Ford takes the laptop away from Stan and starts walking off with it.* Great, you already have the ask blog up. Time to...

*Ford sees the question about the ten guns in the Shack. He pauses.*

Stanley: Ford! Ford, I can explain... just let me... just hand the laptop back over and we can forget-

Stanford: *His voice cold.* Ten guns, Stan? Ten of them?

Stanley: It's... it's not what you think!

Stanford: Stan, you do know Dipper and Mabel live here in the summers, right? And you're telling me that you have ten guns around the Shack?

Stanley: Ford, just... *His expression turns defiant and mad.* Yeah, you know what? I've got ten guns! What of it!? Go ahead and judge me, Poindexter! You've always been good at that, haven't ya!?

Stanford: *Eyes narrowing.* Oh, I'm judging you, all right. Stan, I'm sorry, but I have no choice other than to host an emergency family meeting. We need to discuss this with Dipper and Mabel immediately. They must know about this. And then we can rectify this dangerous matter.

Stanley: Ford, really, it's fine, we don't need-

Stanford: *His voice ringing through the whole Shack.* Family meeting! Family meeting!

Three hours later...

*Stan, Ford, Dipper, Mabel are in the living room of the Shack at the dining table, where they usually host their family meetings. Stan looks more pissed than he has all day, Dipper looks nervous and confused, Mabel looks excited, and Ford is standing up by a chalkboard on wheels, multiple rules written on it, and he looks quite pleased.*

Stanford: Now, one final time, let's repeat the Pines family gun rules before this meeting comes to an end.

Stanley: Sweet Moses, Ford, isn't this overkill?

Mabel: Don't listen to Grunkle Stan! I am 1000% on board with all of these rules. *She pets the demonic owl chick that was sleeping in Ford's hair earlier and gives it a cheese flavored chip to eat.* Nice job, Grunkle Ford!

Dipper: I think Grunkle Stan has a point, though. Grunkle Ford, no offense, but-

Stanford: No buts! Now, repeat the rules, everyone!

Dipper, Mabel, and Stanley: *Stan and Dipper looking both annoyed, and Mabel looking very amused, they repeat the rules aloud in unison.*

Rule one, whenever a cryptid, government agent, evil being, or any kind of potential enemy of the Pines family comes to the door, carry a gun.

Rule two, everyone living in the Shack shall keep a gun or similar weapon by their bed at night in the case of a nighttime supernatural emergency.

Rule three, do not be afraid to brandish a gun whenever anyone asks too many questions about Stan's criminal past, Ford's research and/or interdimensional criminal past, or threatens to hurt Dipper or Mabel, either their feelings or physically.

Rule four, all members of the Pines family and their employees must be trained to use at least three different kinds of weapons.

Rule five, there must never be less than thirty guns hidden in the Shack at all times, preferably two per room and three per bedroom. Ten is not enough, no matter what Stan claims.

Rule six, when in doubt, Ford has the last say on anything related to weaponry and defense related matters in the Shack. Or else.

Stanford: Very good. Does anyone have any objections? Wait. *He chuckles deeply.* No, of course you don't, because these rules are forged from hard-earned lessons from the three decades I spent in the Multiverse, and they make perfect logical, ethical sense and are foolproof from accidents. Don't worry, I'll make sure all of these guns are kept in protective, cheap plastic cases.

Dipper: And here I thought living in the Shack every summer was crazy enough already. *He sighs and lets his head drop to the table.* Seriously, this is dumb.

Mabel: Grunkle Ford, why are you so badass and cool!? Grunkle Stan never let us use any guns last summer!

Stanley: I, uh... what? Excuse me? People hatin' on Mabel? Is that even a thing? Has the internet seen how much of a rainbow ray of sunshine that gal is? I'm a grumpy old conman, Ford's an egotistical, nerdy old fart, Dipper's a paranoid, insecure dweeb, and... people love us and hate Mabel? Why do they look past our flaws and not hers? Not that she has many, mind you. What, she's a little hyper sometimes and wanted her brother to stay? She's just excited about life and loves her family! How can you fault that?

And Mabel causin' Weirdmageddon? What kind of S&P approved substances have these folks been smokin'? *He turns to the side and calls up the stairs.*

Ford! Get your ass down here! I need you to help me argue with people! *Footsteps thunder down the stairs and Ford comes rushing in.*

Stanford: What is it about? And how many explosions do I need to get my point across? *He starts to dig through his trench coat.*

Stanley: Ford, no. Not again. We don't need to make any more insurance claims today.

Stanford: *His hand freezes in his coat, but he doesn't fully let go of whatever's inside. His expression is stern and serious, like a child defying their parent after being told to get their hand out of the cookie jar.* Stanley: Ford!

Stanford: *Rolls his eyes and sighs, letting his hand fall out of his coat again.* Fine, fine, have it your way. I'll just have to utterly and completely decimate them using my brain. Honestly, the plasma grenades would have been the more humane option. Anyways, what are we arguing about?

Stanley: *Points to the question.*

Stanford: *Leans forward, adjusts glasses, and squints, one brow raising more as he reads. Then he pauses, a furious glare to his brown eyes, and then... he bursts out laughing.*

Stanley: *Also laughing.* I know, I know, right? Okay, internet fans, let's get this straight: we all played a part in Weirdmageddon, I'll be honest. Ford started it all by lettin' Bill wine and dine 'im because of his ego problems.

Stanford: Stan is right. I was a fool to trust Bill. He took advantage of my endless need for validation. And then because of my fight with Stan over stupid unresolved issues, Stan was bitter about saving me during Weirdmageddon and then... I corrected his grammar at the worst moment possible.

Stanley: And then I tackled Sixer here. Also at the worst moment possible.

*More footsteps can be heard coming down the stairs. Stan and Ford turn to see that Dipper and Mabel peeking around the doorway.*

Stanford: Hey, kids. Stan and I were just talking about-

Dipper: Weirdmageddon? *Dipper hangs his head a bit and sighs.* Yeah, we heard. That was all our faults. But-

Mabel: *She smiles.* We all also played a part in fixing it! Wait... *She walks up to the computer and sees the question. Stan and Ford try to hide it quick, but she manages to peek through their arms.* People on the internet think I was the main reason for Weirdmageddon?

But... that's not true... right?

Stanford: *Slowly reaching into his trench coat for the grenades again upon seeing Mabel crying, with the look of someone about to unleash hell.*

Stanley: *Nods seriously to Ford, finally agreeing that maybe the grenades are a good idea as he starts to pull brass knuckles and an insurance business card out of his own pockets, then turns to Mabel with a warm smile, hiding the brass knuckles behind his back.* Pumpkin, of course it's not true! Hey, hey, don't listen to those idiots on the internet that this asker mentioned. Like you and Dips said, we're all at fault for Weirdmageddon, me and Ford the most! We're adults and we screwed up harder than anyone involved. You're just kids. We're nearly 60 and couldn't get along. You were 12 and showed us what we'd forgotten.

Dipper: But seriously... like... *Dipper glances at the screen for a moment, staring directly at the internet with cold, intense, dark-circled eyes, fueled by many sleepless nights of tinfoil hattery.* Wasn't the point of all that to show that family is important, how to trust again after it's been broken, and the value of mending relationships despite past hurts? That what really matters in the end is forgiveness and giving up ego for the sake of love? That people in broken family relationships can both be at fault and flawed?

Stanley: Never mind the whole 'bein' stubborn and unforgiving and unable to admit faults' caused me and Ford decades of suffering that could have been resolved had we just sucked it up and forgiven each other? *Stan glares at the screen.* That Mabel and Dipper avoided because they followed me and Ford's example of what not to let happen?

Stanford: *Also looking at the computer screen now, as if staring directly at the internet, breaking some kind of numbered wall.* Have any of you ever heard of character arcs? The rift metaphor? Was the whole two sets of twins thing not obvious enough parallelism and juxtaposition for you? Was Stan defeating Bill with the power of love for family not enough of a, shall we say, punch to the face of some major symbolism we let you watch the worst moments of our lives for?

Dipper: *Narrowing his eyes further.* I bet they don't even know what a theme is...

*Mabel still is sniffling in the background.*

Stanley: Mabel, sweetie, why don't you go upstairs for a few minutes? Me and Ford and Dips here will finish this ask. Get yourself a cookie and we'll handle this.

*Mabel leaves, still sniffling.*

*Stan turns to the computer with his brass knuckles. Ford adjusts his glasses and pulls out grenades. Dipper pulls out a hefty book from his vest.*

Stanley: Internet, listen here and listen good! You've got ten seconds to apologize to Mabel, or you're gonna get the Pines family special.

Stanford: *Says nothing, but casts an unhinged smile.*

Remember your brother Stanley was running for office as a candidate for mayor? If you were selected as candidate instead, what do you think about what could have happened?

Stanford: I have always despised politics and politicians. They all need truth teeth permanently installed in their mouths, if you ask me. But if I hadn't been so busy trying to fix the rift problem last summer, I would have run for office, as well. Gravity Falls has been a good town to me, and after the chaos my work has brought upon it, it would have been an honor to make up for my mistakes as its most humble servant.

I would have focused on protecting both the people and the supernatural from each other, and the outside world. I would have given greater funding to the schools and library. I would remove every symbol of Bill Cipher around the town.

And most importantly, I’d have had statues erected of both Fiddleford and my brother as town and world heroes, right in the center of main street. Of course, it wouldn’t have said anything about what they did specifically - hence the ‘Never Mind All That’ act - but history should never forget them.

Stanley: I'm still a little upset that my criminal record got me canned as mayor. Yeesh, as if tons of other politicians have never done any crime! Hell, most of 'em still do it while they're in office! So what if I've got mob ties? So what if I've smuggled pugs and spent some nights in the big house? What matters is that my heart is big, and it's always in the right place. Also, an eagle kissed me. Can any other politician say that? No. Didn't think so.

Stanford: Actually, now that I think of it... you probably would have made a great mayor, Stan.

Stanley: What, you really think so?

Stanford: Of course! Remember when we got stuck on that Caribbean island after the Stan-O’-War II had run into rocks?

Stanley: Oh man, the one with that freak who hunted humans, right?

Stanford: Yes. We wouldn’t have survived without you!

Stanley: *His cheeks flush a little pink.* Oh, well... what can I say? All I did was convince the other people gettin’ hunted with us that turnin’ on each other was crap, and we should focus our efforts on the jerk in the mansion that put us there in the first place. I mean, why direct your anger at other people who had nothin’ to do with why you’re stuck somewhere bad? Why not direct it at the schmuck who actually needs his clock cleaned?

Stanford: By the end of the night, you were in that hunter’s chair in his expensive estate, smoking his pipe by his fireplace-

Stanley: Most expensive tobacco I ever had the pleasure of puffin’.

Stanford: And afterwards, you convinced the others to help everyone fix each other’s boats and share supplies so that we could all get off that cursed island.

Stanley: Heh, that was nothin’! ‘Sides, I did his belongings a favor. Man wasn’t classy enough to live in a place that nice with stuff that fancy. I was just sad we had to leave it. I love the Stan-O’-War, don’t get me wrong. But a mansion on a Caribbean island? Sure was cozy.

Stanford: That was ingenious, charismatic, righteous leadership, Stan. See what I mean? A perfect mayor.

Stanley: Aw, well... honestly, the only way I’d ever run for anything ever again is if you were my running mate. Forget bein’ a mayor! Just think if we were president and vice president? I’d do the talkin’, and you’d do the thinkin’. We’d be unstoppable! And we’d legalize mostly everything! Pines and Pines 2024.

Stanford: And give NASA a way bigger budget!

Stanley: And redecorate the White House with sad clown paintings!

Stanford: And don’t forget, we’d-

Stanley: Hah! I know exactly what you’re gonna say, Ford. Hold on, wait.

*They both give each other a knowing look. It’s one of those rare, nearly twin telepathy moments.*

Stanley and Stanford: Declare ourselves the official Kings of New Jersey!

*They both erupt into laughter.*

Stanley: Also, I’d make Congress duke it out in boxing matches on the House and Senate floors. And broadcast it on live TV! Teddy would be so proud!

Stanford: You're talking about Marilyn, aren't you? Yes, my brother did-

Stanley: No, no... let me tell the story, Sixer. One of my happiest memories.

Stanford: But she-

Stanley: Oh Marilyn... that gal was the hottest, smartest woman this world has ever seen. I'm talkin' smokin', and not just on the outside. Hated authority, loved mischief, and didn't let anything get in her way.

One day, I was near Gravesfield between heists, and heard about this local woman who was a bit of a chaos-maker. I'd been asked to deliver her some really weird crap by one of my, uh... "associates". I'm talkin' random objects like a broken TV, fishing poles, yadda yadda. Honestly, I thought it was a setup, but I was desperate and knew how to defend myself, so... off I went.

Well, I get there near this park I was supposed to meet her by, and lo and behold, I see this lady with gorgeous long hair and a rather sharp tooth. However, I guess she had a knack for upsetting local law enforcement like I do, 'cause I'm about to approach and a cop pulls up and tells her to stay put. Somethin' about swiping muffins or whatever.

I helped her get away. When we got a moment to breathe, she gave me this weirded out look, then saw my gold chain necklace and said somethin' about "shinies". I was already fallin'. Asked her her name. She smiled, told me Marilyn, and that was the beginning of a very short, very sweet little romance.

One day, she asks me what's the shiniest place in the world. Told her the best I'd seen was Vegas. So we go on a road trip there, havin' the time of our lives, though she continually kept collecting these weird objects. I didn’t mind. Not like I had many possessions to fill my car up with, anyway.

Well, one thing led to another, and... we got married in Vegas and... oh, I couldn't have been more proud of her...

*Stan starts tearing up, then sobs a bit.*

Stanford: Need me to finish the story for you, Stan?

Stanley: No, I got it. No, she... she, uh... Marilyn robbed me the day after the ceremony. She robbed me blind. She took my gold chain, my clothes, my wallet, and my car. I hear her leave the hotel room, and next thing I know, I’m runnin’ after her in my underwear and she’s gettin’ away with my keys.

Long story short, I stole a motorcycle, chased after her on the highway in my underwear while being broadcast on public TV and chased by cops for ‘public indecency’, and caught up with her, mostly due to the fact that she didn’t know how to drive. I thanked her for her poor aim with the gun I’d stashed in the glovebox, told her I respected her long con game, and said I’d take her back to Connecticut if she let me have my stuff back.

Marilyn agreed. And then... after spendin’ my last days with her, I had to let that gem go. I let her keep my gold chain, though. She told me she’d pawn it as soon as she got home, and you know what? I couldn’t have respected her more. Wherever she is now, I hope she’s happy. She deserves it.

Stanford: You have very strange tastes in women.

Stanley: Way ahead of ya, kiddo! I've seen lots of great fanart and stories of myself before. Just think, I used to be a conman livin' off lottery tickets and fast food in the Stanleymobile, to having my best friend back and bein' cherished and adored online by tons of fans!

I tell ya, you fans are great! I used to think I was worth nothing 'cept what dough I could make. And I know it's not good to get confidence based on outside validation, but... after Weirdmageddon and stopping Bill and Ford callin’ me a hero, and now with all this praising me for bein' a good brother and how protective I am of my family in general, well... makes a man lift his chin a little higher, know what I mean?

As for Ford, I tend to limit what he can see on our internet connection. Wendy showed me how to put on parental controls. See, I've had fans on this blog before try to tell Ford about stuff like Rule 34 and whatnot. Then I had to borrow Ford's nerd gun and get out my brass knuckles and yell at 'em to start runnin'. Literally, check back to some early posts. Protectin' family. It's what I do!

I mean, you do you, internet. No hate. But Ford was away from the world for thirty years. He hasn't seen the depravity the internet can descend to like I have. I know he's tough - survivin' in the Multiverse for decades will make sure of that - but y'know... baby steps.

Stanford: Stan, may I remind you that I am an adult man? The same age as you? It’s been over a year since I got back to this dimension. And I’ve seen some horrifying things in other dimensions. I think I can handle unrestricted internet-

Stanley: You mini-nuked a picture of yourself in a speedo, Ford.

Stanford: See? Perfectly and healthily handled.

Stanley: Really? Mini-nuking a piece of paper wasn’t overkill in the slightest?

Stanford: No.

Stanley: *Sighs.* Y'know, you could use your high IQ and science gobbledygook to like, I dunno, improve the world instead of destroying fanart and gettin’ revenge on your poor old twin brother for dumb shit that didn’t deserve nearly the level of response it got.

Stanford: *Smiles in smug satisfaction with no regret whatsoever.*

Stanley: Or like, I dunno, invent somethin’ to make my life better as thanks for savin’ your ass from the portal, or that annoying Dorito, or all the times I rescued you or punched somethin’ for you on our Stan-O’-War II trip?

Stanford: *Hands Stan something from his trench coat.*

Stanley: This is deodorant.

Stanford: Yes, you said you wanted something to make your life better. *Pulls Stan into a one-armed hug and pats his cheek.* It’ll also make mine better, too.

Stanley: You’re dead to me, Ford!

Stanley: Well, Lu (can I call ya that for short?), you're right. I may not be a dad, but I'm somethin' even better: a Grunkle. See, people think parents are the most important people in a kid's life. And they are, don't get me wrong! But a Grunkle (or Graunty, for that matter) is so important, too. We're like backup parents or grandparents, minus dumb rules like goin' to bed at a reasonable time or limits on sugar intake, with added fun and law-breaking!

And you're 100% right: Ford can't take care of himself. Why do ya think I know about parenting so well? I had to look after this nerdy runt for years of my life! When we were kids, guess who had to protect ‘im from bullies and brush the sand outta his hair? Me. When we were teens, who had to make sure his late night science fair project candy stash was stocked and that he got enough sleep? This guy, that's who.

Never mind the thirty years I spent gettin' him back from sci-fi sideburn land. Oh, he whined about *raises voice an octave* "openin' that portal was too dangerous, Stan!" and "ya almost tore apart the fabric of reality!", but without me, Ford'd still be sleepin' in some slimy alien's armpit and chewin' on chicken-flavored tentacle strips for dinner.

If I thought workin' on fixin' the portal was hard, I was not prepared for takin' care of this guy after he got back. Oof, I'd take the task of carin' for Little Dork Ford or readin' theoretical physics textbooks over...

*He gestures over at Ford, who's working at the desk in his lab.* Ugh, whatever this wrinkly, musty, grumpy old creature is. It's Little Dork Ford, but now it sheds everywhere, has an ego, and it gets into even more trouble somehow.

Stanford: *Is currently busy at his desk, scribbling away at some experiment notes.* You do know that I can hear you insulting me, Stan?

Stanley: See? Ego taller than the Empire State Building, all to cover up insecurity as deep as... hey, Ford? What’s the world’s deepest ocean trench you told me those underwater aliens or whatever hide in?

Stanford: The Mariana Trench.

Stanley: Yeah, that place! Thanks, Sixer-

Stanford: *Reaches into sliding shelf behind his desk, pulls out The Norton Anthology of Shakespeare, Third Edition. He turns around without a word, narrows his eyes, and holds it up so Stan can see what it is. There are little post-it markers sticking up in neon colors from the pages, each marked similarly to “Quotes to Share with Stan #33″ His expression turns into a wicked, depraved smile.*

Stanley: *Backs away and starts sweating.* ANYWAYS, let’s take this conversation upstairs! AS FAR AWAY FROM FORD AS POSSIBLE!

Stanley: Look, kid. We've been over this. Ford can't marry anyone, because dorkus is already married to-

Stanford: Stanley, let me say it.

Stanley: Yeesh! Does every opportunity to be a dramatic nerd summon you, or somethin'?

Stanford: ...Yes?

Stanley: *Sighs*. Fine. But only 'cause you'd cry if I didn't let ya. *Stan facepalms, then gestures towards Ford.* Lupin, I hope ya know what kind of torture askin' Ford cringe-enablin' questions like this puts me through. But you wanted it. So here it is.

*Mumbles* Can't believe I had to share a womb with this man...

Stanford: Alright, are you ready? Are you prepared for it?

Stanley: Yes, Poindexter. They're ready. Shit or get off the pot before I smash my head through the computer screen.

Stanford: Dear Lupin, I'm afraid I can't marry you. Do you want to know why?

*A long dramatic pause ensues.*

Because I'm already married... to-

Stanley: *Stan pushes Ford out of the way.*

To SCIENCE!

Ha, in your face, Ford! I've had to suffer through years of hearin' that dumb joke, and now, I finally stole the punchline! How's it feel? Huh?

Stanford: "..."

Stanley: Ford? Ford, you, uh... you okay?

Stanford: "..."

Stanley: Ford, it was just a joke! C'mon, ya don't expect me to really believe I just broke your heart by finishin' that dumb saying for ya?

Stanford: "..."

Stanley: Damn it, Ford, you're not guiltin' me! You sent me through a portal to a bunch of angry leprechauns last week, and durin' the premiere of The Duchess Approves' reboot, no less! Which sucked anyways, but that's besides the point! I coulda returned a way worse kind of revenge for that heartless stunt!

Stanford: Married to... I was supposed to say...

Stanley: Ford? No hard feelings, right? We're two grown men. Above petty things, right? We gotta set a good twin example for Dips and Pumpkin. We can't be mad at each other again! It'll break their little-

Stanford: "Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand. Blood and revenge are hammering in my head."

Stanley: You're... oh God, you're quotin' Shakespeare! The last time ya did that was right before...

*Stan has a flashback of the absolute worst revenge Ford has ever pulled on him. It made the leprechauns incident look like child's play, and ended with Stan unable to get out of bed on the Stan-O'-War II for a week, at Ford's mercy, unable to do anything without his help, which Ford withheld over Stan's head by making him compliment and apologize to Ford every time Stan needed something.*

*Stan grabs the computer screen and looks into the viewer's eyes.*

If I don't survive this, just know that the cover up is a lie! There was no accident! Ford did me in! Don't let him get away with-

*Stan is dragged away from the computer screen. There's a long pause as he's pulled out of the room kicking and screaming. Then Ford comes back into view, and he looks deep into the viewer's eyes.*

Stanley: Well, we already talked about Wendy in another post. She basically didn't care, which was kinda expected. Can't get that girl to care about anything, honestly.

Soos mostly stayed away from Ford for my sake, at first. Said Ford didn’t appreciate me enough, and told ‘im right to his face that he was lucky to have me as a family member, ‘cause not everyone has family that sticks around and works that hard to make up for their mistakes like I did.

Eventually Soos and Ford got along. I mean, now the kid makes Stanfiction with him as the main character, which is as puke-worthy as it sounds. By the end of last Summer, he grew to respect Ford, but he was not a Ford fan at all for a while.

Not sure if you've noticed, but Soos and I have a rather... complex relationship. He’s extremely loyal to me. I s’pose I should feel grateful, but it’s a little weird, honestly.

Stanford: Stan, we talked about this when we were on the Stan-O-War. It’s quite obvious that Soos looks up to you as a fath-

Stanley: Boss! He looks up to me as the world’s greatest former boss! D-don’t listen to Sixer, here. Ain’t nothin’ between me and Soos but a serious, coldhearted manager-employee relationship!

Stanford: Stanley, he left your room here completely untouched after he took ownership of the Shack. When we got back, he knocked over everyone - including Melody - out of the way to hug you and wouldn’t let go for an hour.

Stanley: See? I’m the best boss he’s ever had.

Stanford: He emailed you every day while we were out at sea, sometimes multiple times, asking you for life advice and telling you how much he missed you, with attached pictures of himself in your Mr. Mystery outfit and how proud he was to wear it. Never mind the fact that he emailed me every day, too, to ask me to make sure you were happy and came back home safe.

That’s not even accounting for how he’s planning on naming his firstborn son after you-

Stanley: Stanley is a common, classy name. There’s no relation whatsoever- Stanford: Stanley...

Stanley: What!? Soos had some actual taste for once in his life, is all I’m sayin’! Who said I cried when he told me he was namin’ his son Stanley!? I didn’t feel a heartwrenching ache in my chest for days afterwards, neither! Not at all!

Stanford: *Pulls out a camera. On it is a set of photos of Stan standing on the deck of the Stan-O-War II, a doofy grin on his face, eyes puffy from what must have been hours of tears, with the look of a man who finally feels emotionally fulfilled for the first time in his life.* Photo evidence, Stanley- Stanley: *Snatches camera from Ford and vigorously deletes them. Afterwards, he gives Ford a betrayed look.*

Stanford: *Chuckles and snatches the camera back.* Not to mention, the extra hour you spent at the store the other day debating between buying a baby blanket and bottles and toys, then - you of all people, Mr. Cheapskate Pennypinch McScrooge himself - bought all of them and more, then proceeded to grin the entire time we spent in the checkout and during the drive home. You even started crying aga-

Stanley: ANYWAYS! How’d the rest of the town react to Ford? Let’s talk about that instead! That’s far more interesting than mine and Soos’ completely boring manager-employee relationship.

Ford, talk about yourself! It’s your favorite thing to do, right? Tell ‘em how everyone in this hickdump town reacted to the mind-blowin’, plot twisty return of Stanford Filbrick Pines.