#post gravity falls

Stan’s eyes opened up into complete darkness. He started to move but found his limbs stiff and wrapped in something. He was stuck and started thrashing around. He’d gotten it into his head that he was twisted up in his bedsheets again and started screaming.

“Oh god! Soos! Get the jaws of life! Get some snips or somethin’! I’m stuck!” he shouted.

“Nobody’s gonna help you out here, ole man,” said a strange voice from the dark.

“Who’s that?” said Stan. His tone was not so much panicked but annoyed. “Robbie Valentino, this better not be some stupid prank. I’m not playing around with you and Wendy’s games anymore!”

A new voice chimed in, making robotic tutting, “Nah, you don’t get it do ya?” We’re holding your ass for ransom.”

“Ransom?” said Stan. He considered the thought for a moment. “If you cut me in on this, I can get my brother to fork over some more cash. I know he’s good for it.”

“Shut the fuck up!” shouted the first voice. “If your scrawny boy toy doesn’t deliver the Smidgens we want, we’re going to slit your Cromdamned throat!”

“Boy toy? What the heck are you talking about?” he asked and received a smack across the face for it.

Everyone who surrounded him began to laugh as Stan’s head spun.

“Don’t play dumb,” he said. “You were rolling heavy with Rick Sanchez in this part of the galaxy for ten years. Suppose your spastic lust pet doesn’t show up; we’re going to cut your head off and bury you somewhere like a vampire.”

“Who?” asked Stan.

---

A large green portal opened up into a land covered in prone grease grease-slicked grandmothers. Two aged scientists stepped out and into the town. The residents of the town looked at them with fascination. Stanford Pines looked down at his tracker pad, which pinged with a map of this area and the little tracker.

“I cannot believe that my brother has gotten wrapped up in your nonsense, Sanchez,” he said. 

“Better believe it,” said Rick Sanchez, punctuating his brief statement with a burp. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you myself. What are they? Flansians? Predators? The Tall Whites?” asked Stanford, rapidly firing his questions at Rick.

“Beats the hell out of me,” said Rick. “If they’re after me through, Stan I’ll take care of them. Don’t worry your prissy little head about it.” 

Rick reached over and started tussling Stanford’s hair drunkenly, only for Ford to take his hand away. “None of that!”

“You can’t still be angry because I didn’t call you after our night of passion in the Hamburger Fields,” he said. Dismissing him.

“I can be, and I am!” he shouted.

“Oh blah, blah, blah! BLIGHITY BLAH!” shouted Rick. “Stan’s a better man than you anyways. He knows how to make a man feel appreciated. Y’know?” 

Rick then feigned ecstatic moans, “Ohh Stanley, yeah, yeah, yeah, right therreee!” 

“That’s lewd,” growled Stanford. His face flushed a deep red.

“You would know,” said Rick. “I recall you getting very into me sucking on your fingers.” 

“Nope,” Stanford walked forward. Stomping as he went. “Not listening. Just help me find my brother.”

Rick made a dismissive noise. “Bleh…fine….So, does he ever talk about me?” 

“Hmm?” began Stanford. “No, never.” 

“C’mon, i’m being serious right now. He must, right?’ asked Rick.

“Nope. Up until we got the note, I didn’t even know you two were acquainted,” said Stanford.

“What? We spent nearly a decade together, fucking and savaging around the country,” said Rick. “He must remember me.” 

“Well,” said Ford apprehensively. “There’s a chance that he genuinely doesn’t remember.” 

“Oh god, has he been hit with Alzheimer's?” said Rick, feeling his age.

“The truth is more…odd,” Said Ford. “Do you remember when i talked about Weirdmageddon?” 

“Dumb name, yes.”

“Ignoring that…To destroy Bill, Stanley allowed him to invade his mind…Then we erased it,” said Ford.

“You sick son of a bitch!” growled Rick.

“Oh, grow the hell up, Sanchez. I heard about how you regularly erase your grandson’s memories over minor mistakes on your end,” said Ford.

“How did you hear about that?” asked Rick.

“Summer and Wendy are friends on Tumblr,” said Ford.

“Goddamn, Summer,” whispered Rick under his breath. But then Rick smiled, “Hot Damn, Fordy baby, you’ve just given me a chance at this bullshit thing called love!” 

Rick pushed Ford over, and the old man fell on his ass. They opened up a portal that entered them into a dimension filled with bright blue slime bags, and they bounced off of them, weaving between each other as they fell. Rick blessed another portal into the wall of the dimension and it led into the back room of a bar.

Surrounding Stan’s tied-up form were impossibly tall robots and short dwarven aliens with big fly eyes. They all pulled their guns and started firing at the pair. They ducked behind pillars and exchanged looks. Ford looked ready to kill Rick.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!” he shouted.

“Relax,” Rick stepped in front of the scene.

His body was quickly riddled with plasma fire. The bolts of liquid energy passed through his scrawny form like butter, but he kept stepping forward. The aliens screamed at him in their native tongues—horrid insect chirping. Rick’s left arm unfolded, forming a kind of gun made of green semi-metal and flesh. The flesh gun sprayed the aliens with a horrible mist that caused their skin to erupt in horrible sizzling boils and caused the metal skin of the robots to erode rapidly.

“Come to me, everybody!” he shouted. “Look at me go! Your gods might not be real, but I’m sending you to him all the same!”

Ford stood behind the pillar, picking off stragglers with his pistol and resenting every word that fell out of Rick Sanchez’ stupid head. He didn’t have to do all of this. They could have just killed them; they didn’t have to cook alive inside their bodies.

Once this mad violence was over, Stanford dashed over to Stanley and tore the bag off his head; his brother winced at the light.

“It’s okay, Stanley, you’re going to be alright,” said Ford as he began to undo the binds.

Rick turned and flashed Stanley a look. He thought it was sexy, with is hip cocked to the side and the bulge in his pants prominently displayed. 

“Hey, hot stuff,” said Rick. “I’m Rick Sanchez, and I’m the rescue committee.”  

“Yeah,” said Stan. “I know who you are.”

Suddenly, Rick froze. Shit, he remembers all the scumbag shit I did.

Once up, Stan strode across the room and pushed Rick up against the wall, forcing his tongue into his mouth and dry-humping him against the wall. Ford stood by, irritated that it built up to this. He turned his head so he didn’t have to see the image of the two.

The two of them had been home from their boat trip for about a week, and Ford was already bored. After the two of them had adjusted back to Pacific Standard Time, Ford took to pacing around the house, looking for something to do with his time. While Stan was fine with reading a book or occasionally cashiering for Soos in the gift shop, his brother had began writing everything down on a legal pad, eager for something exciting to happen. He was always clicking his pen or muttering to himself ideas for new experiments, which was driving Stan crazy.

“Jesus Christ, Ford,” Stan had said last night before heading upstairs to bed. “Just go out exploring. You’re freaking me out.”

And, judging by the tremendous ROAR Stan had just heard from the front yard, his brother had done just that.

Glancing up from his magazine, Stan saw Ford being chased into the yard by a giant green beast with pointed fangs and glowing red eyes. It looked like a gremlin… or was it more like a goblin? Stan decided that either way, the thing was not happy with his brother.

Ford, in his frenzied escape, noticed Stan’s gaze through the window, and immediately began yelling for his brother’s help.

“STAN! HELP ME! THE GREMLOBLIN WON’T LEAVE ME ALONE!!”

Stan, however, was comfortable in his chair. (Huh, he thought off-handedly, it was both.)

Stan gestured vaguely to his ears, indicating that he couldn’t hear his brother. “What?” he mouthed.

“STANLEY!”

Stan merely shrugged, and went back to his magazine as Ford continued to run about the yard, pursued by his new friend.

Several minutes and several screams (from both Ford and the gremloblin) later, Stan heard the sonic boom of Ford’s laser gun, and subsequent terrified animal screams as the gremloblin retreated back into the woods.

Stan heard the kitchen door open and slam shut, and Ford’s boots clomping over towards the den before Ford entered, clearly worse for wear.

“Any particular reason you didn’t come help me?” Ford asked, making his way to the table and pulling a legal pad towards him.

“You’re the one who went looking for excitement,” Stan replied. “Besides, you wouldn’t be in this mess if you didn’t go poking around a monster nest. I was perfectly fine around the house.”

Ford’s chest puffed up indignantly. “For you information, Stanley, Gremloblins live in underground caverns, not nests.”

Stan gave his brother a look. “So what did we learn today?”

Ford sighed. “Not to go poking around Gremloblin caves alone,” he intoned, sounding a bit sheepish.

“See how much you can learn even at our old age, Sixer?”

But Ford was silent, scrawling away on his legal pad.

Sensing his brother’s hurt feelings, Stan sighed, and remembered all of the fun and adventure the two of them had had aboard the Stan O’War II.

“Hey, Ford,” he began, “if you still want to go looking for monsters, I think my schedule’s clear tomorrow.”

Ford looked up from his work and smiled at his twin. “I’d like that, Stanley.” He chuckled. “As long as I’m not the one doing all the work,” he added.

Stan grinned. “Hey, you’re talking to the man who once punched a pterodactyl in the face! I can take on any old goblin… thing any day of the week.”

Ford laughed out loud. “You’re on then!”

“No, you’re on, Poindexter!” Stan pulled out the footrest in his old chair. “But tomorrow. I’ve got a lot of reading to catch up on,” he added, reaching for the latest addition of Gold Chains for Old Men Magazine.

He could practically hear Ford roll his eyes, but nevertheless chuckled as he returned to whatever he was writing.