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This was originally an entry to a WWOEC Writer's Jam that, sadly, probably will never happen. So I retrofitted it into a standalone story which I hope you will all enjoy. More installments to come, so please leave a comment and let me know what you think! 
It was a warm summer night at the small Oregon town of Gravity Falls. The moon was high, storm clouds loomed ominously in the distance, shops were closed, and many homes were dark as their residents turned in for the night. Some homes still had light in their windows, and one such place was none other than the local tourist trap the Mystery Shack. Most of the Pines family had also retired for the night, save for one. Dipper, one half of the Pines Twins, had been staying up binge-watching the Used To Be About History Channel. All the lights were off, the soft glow of Grunkle Stan’s ancient TV being the only illumination in the room. Dipper’s eyes were completely glued to the screen as he was immersed into an episode of Extremely Old Extraterrestrials that discussed how it was aliens that created the dinosaurs, Noah’s Ark, coffee, and…pretty much everything else.
“I’m not saying the spork was invented by aliens…” spoke one of the show’s commentators, wearing a tweed jacket and who’s hair looked like he made out with a power outlet. “…but the spork was invented by aliens!”
“Well…” Dipper shrugged in half-agreement and half-disinterest. “Sure is weird enough for that.”
Suddenly the living room lights came to life, temporarily blinding Dipper as he shielded his eyes and groaned from the unpleasant sensation. The one responsible was none other than his Grunkle Stan, wearing nothing but his slippers, tank top, boxers, and fez, his glasses in one hand as he tiredly rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. When he put his glasses back on, he looked at the TV.
“Jeez, kid!” he said in his gruff, slightly raspy voice. “It’s passed ten. You’re still watching this garbage?”
“Hey, it’s not garbage!” Dipper said defensively. “It’s very informative and brings new perspectives on…” Right in the middle of his defense, the show began talking about how the Cuban Missile Crisis was actually about discovering dinosaurs that survived the K-T mass extinction…somehow…and that the Kennedy Assassination was perpetrated by bug-like aliens that left green chemical trails and craved sugar-water, and that the entire event was a collaboration between their species and the lizard people living under Los Angeles trying to cover up the fact that Marlynn Monroe was having an affair with the lizard prime minister. In that instant Dipper’s defense died on the spot. “Okay, it’s garbage. But it’s entertaining garbage.” Dipper conceded.
“If you say so.” Stan shrugged. “Personally I preferred my conspiracy theories when they weren’t on TV. Left a lot more to the imagination that way. Now that there’s a circus’ worth of talking heads endlessly discussing them it seems like they got to make up new junk just to keep people interested.” It was then that Stan gestured toward the TV as a picture of Fidel Castro riding a triceratops popped up. “I mean, dinosaurs in Cuba? Come on.”
“Well…” Dipper said through a mouthful of popcorn, washing it down with some Pitt before finishing his sentence. “To be fair, the dinosaur thing isn’t that crazy. I mean, we have some here in Gravity Falls.”
“That’s different!” Stan shot back. “They’re frozen in ancient underground tree-sap that is somehow inexplicably keeping them alive as it has for over 60 million years. WAY less crazy!” That brought a laugh out of Dipper, clenching his snack and soda-filled belly.
“Whatever you say, Grunkle Stan.” Dipper said through his laughter, which slowly turned into a tired, drawn out yawn. A yawn that didn’t go unnoticed by Grunkle Stan.
“Alright, ya little goblin.” Stan smirked as he walked toward the kitchen, playfully ruffling Dipper’s hair as he walked by. “Finish up your show and then get to bed. I think you had enough crazy conspiracy for one night.”
“Okay, Grunkle Stan…” Dipper said as he slowly began to fade, rubbing his eyes as the show he watched was beginning to close with an artist’s depiction of how World War II came to a close…by Soviet raptors storming Hitler’s bunker and eating him alive. The image was too obtuse to not laugh at. “Yeah…” Dipper said in a steadily trailing voice. “Crazy…”
Little did Dipper know that deep down in the sap caverns, the increasingly warm weather was making the sap containing the dinosaurs held captive was growing increasingly weaker. Thankfully most of them were far too weak to break out, and those that were strong enough were simply held in far too much sap for them to break through…all save for one. As the sap containing a particularly large therapod was melting away, an eye of the ferocious beast was soon exposed. Between the intense heat and a particularly strong, natural urge of its own, it wasn’t long at all before the bulk of his snout was exposed, a loathsome and hungry growl echoing through the mines.
Back at the Mystery Shack, Dipper had just made it back to his room, kicking off his shoes and shedding his clothes until he was in nothing but his tighty-whities and hat, then hanging his hat as he crawled into his bed and pulled the covers over him. His sister Mabel was already sound asleep in her bed, and he was quickly following her to dreamland. Alas, he didn’t even get to close his eyes before his phone vibrated, which he begrudgingly answered without checking the caller ID. “Hello?” he said through an exhausted voice.
“Hey, dude!” Came the voice of Wendy from the other end. “Thought you’d still be awake. Hey, I can’t sleep. Want to come over and watch some cheesy movies with me?”
In that very instant, the tired and weary Dipper was more invigorated than he would have been if he had gotten 12 hours of sleep and drank several cups of black coffee while getting several adrenaline shots at once. He sat up straight in his bed, his eyes enthusiastically wide and an ear to ear grin on his face.
“Would I!?” he blurted out in an excited and gleeful tone, which immediately retracted before struggling to save face for his former-kinda-sorta-still crush. He also glanced over at Mabel to make sure his excited outburst didn’t wake her, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw she was still snoozing away. “Uh…I mean…” he said in a cooler and more subdued voice. Yeah. Sounds good. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
“Sweet!” came an elated Wendy. “Better hurry, dude. Think it’s going to start raining any second.”
“Okay.” Dipper said with a smile. “See you soon.”
Dipper quickly and quietly got dressed, careful not to wake his sister. She’d stir now and again, but always go back to sleep afterwards. Soon enough Dipper was fully dressed, save for his shoes which he carried in one hand. He silently tip-toed out of their room and discreetly closed the door, the soft pitter-patter of his sock-clad feet slowly descending down the stairs. Once creek and click of the front door being opened and closed danced across listening ears, a happy grin came to Mabel’s face and one eye opening, looking toward the door.
“Go get her, Casanova.” Mabel whispered before drifting back to sleep.
On the highly leading to Gravity Falls, there was a date to be met. A due date to deliver a classified government package to a secret base hidden in the Oregon wilderness, inbound from Highland, Texas. 18 wheels of muscle and fury, hauling an armored trailer strong enough to hold a raging elephant…and being driven by two of the biggest idiots in the trucking industry.
“Candy Cane?” came a lonely yet ominous voice over the CB…which somehow made it over the power metal playing on the radio. “Anybody out there know Candy Cane? I need to find Candy Cane…”
The mic was plucked from the CB by the driver, a brown haired, large headed individual with some impressively big teeth and small, squinty eyes.
“Uh…” the driver said with a deep yet nasally voice through a low, throaty chuckle. “Candy Cane’s not here, asswipe. Uh huh huh huh…”
“Yeah!” the shrill voiced, wild-eyed, equally large headed blonde haired passenger chimed in with a wicked grin. “She’s like, um, hmm hmm, heh, not here! She’s um, hmm hmm, somewhere else…hmm hmm, heh.”
“I need to find Candy Cane…” came the voice yet again.
“Uh…” the driver spoke into the CB again. “Ask, like, your mom. Uh huh huh huh…”
“Yeah!” the passenger added. “Like, hmm hmm, your mom’s a whore! Hmm hmm, heh, and a slut! Yeah, a slut! And she sucks cocks, and has big boobs and a huge butt and-” the passenger’s sentence was suddenly cut off by a quick punch to the jaw from the driver. “AHHH!!! Stop hitting me, asshole! Hmm hmm, heh!”
“Settle down…” the driver dismissed. “Uh huh huh huh…”
Anything the voice on the other end of the CB said was drowned out by the incessant and idiotic giggling from the driver and passenger, not to mention the blaring power metal over the radio. Power metal that was steadily losing its signal and becoming more and more distorted and incoherent, prompting the driver to take his eyes off the road and begin messing with the radio.
“Damn it…” the driver grumbled and he toyed with the radio tuner. “Stupid radio…” It wasn’t long at all before he found another, clearer station, playing a country/western song that made both truckers grimace.
“Ack!” the passenger protested. “Dude, this song sucks! Change it!”
“Settle down, butthole!” the driver retorted.
More and more, the driver focused on finding some decent tunes and less on the road, their rig swerving to and fro on the empty highway. Off in the distance, the passenger noticed something. A large, shadowy figure as big as the truck they were in, and it was…moving? It appeared to be crossing the highway, and in the encroaching darkness it became harder and harder to see. Until they came close enough to where the truck’s headlights could illuminate it and the object’s head turned to face the on-coming truck, he couldn’t believe what he saw…as awesome as it was.
“Whoa!” he shouted with eyes wide with shock. “Dude, is that a T-rex!?”
“You dumbass.” The driver said as he finally settled on a radio station and put his eyes back on the road. “There’s no such thing as a T-”
In that moment the driver’s squinty, beady little eyes went as wide as they’d go when just 50 feet in front of them stood a 15 foot tall, 40 foot long tyrannosaurus rex, it’s eyes illuminated in the headlights of the oncoming truck. It had thick, scaly green skin and weighed nearly ten tons, staring back at the truck and suddenly letting out a booming roar that shook the cab of the rig. Panicking, the driver swerved around the hulking theropod, avoiding a collision but going off road and spinning out of control. As the driver tried to recover he overcompensated on the turn and caused the trailer to snap off and careen into the woods, barreling out of control and smashing into several trees. The truck itself managed to get back on the road, but only to smash into a billboard advertising Old Greasy’s Diner. The impact sent the passenger, who wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, rocketing out through the windshield and skipping across the asphalt like a stone skipping across the water before finally coming to a stop at about half a football field’s worth of distance from the crash site.
“That FUCKING HURT!” he bellowed as thunder roared in the distance and rain began to pour from above. It started as a light shower, but quickly grew heavier with each passing moment. The T-rex looked on, grunted, and continued to cross the highway and venture further into the woods. The driver, much better off from wearing his seatbelt, simply stared in awe with his mouth agape at the scene that just unfolded before him, his squinty eyes as wide as they could physically go without his eyeballs jumping out of his head. After a few moments of silence save for the increasingly pouring rain and the thunderous footsteps of the increasingly distant T-rex, he finally spoke.
“Whoa…” he said, followed by another chuckle. “That was cool!”
“This is Rubber Duck calling Cornholio the Great,” came a deep voice adorned with a Southern accent over the CB. “Rubber Duck to Cornholio; where the heck are you? You two knuckleheads were supposed to be here over an hour ago!”
The driver grabbed the microphone and spoke, rather nonchalantly, into it.
“Uh……..we crashed.”
Indeed they had, for their trailer was now turned on its’ side over in the bush, having taken some serious punishment in the wreck. Enough to where the structural integrity was compromised…something its’ passenger was more than aware of. Intense thrashing noises came from within, and suddenly the steel walls bent and contorted as though they were made of tin foil. Suddenly it was torn from within, and a tall, dark figure leapt from the homemade exit……and took to the air, the buzzing of wasp-like wings attached to a feminine yet alien looking body. It glanced around as rain poured around it, looking for signs of life from its’ airborne position…and it wasn’t long at all before it found exactly what it was looking for. Off in the distance were the fading lights of a small town as Gravity Falls turned in for the night. With fierce intent, the creature flew toward the slumbering town as fast as its’ wings could carry it, the rain coming down even harder and thunder drowning out the buzzing wings. The creature had one thing on its’ mind, and it wasn’t going to stop until it got exactly that.
“Feed…” it droned in a monotone, trance-like voice. “Breed…”
The storm raged on outside, the moon long since swallowed by the clouds and the midnight hour long passed. Rain pounded against the walls and on the roofs of the homes in Gravity Falls. The Corduroy residence was no exception, where light but from a single window shined in the darkness. Her brothers were spending the night with friends and the Corduroy Patriarch had his usual nightcap of four quarts of bourbon and 12 beers, so sound asleep that even the pouring rain, booming thunder, and raucous laughter of his daughter and her friend couldn’t wake him. They were already half through their second movie for the night, and neither were showing signs of slowing down.
“Dude….” An awestruck Wendy said with her mouth agape, her eyes unable to peel away from the bizarre image playing on her TV. “Is that Meat Loaf?”
The movie itself was a horror movie about vampires loosely based on a series of video-games sharing the title, and they had just reached a scene where the famous singer was giving perhaps his hammiest yet most uncaring performance in his career. Dipper was every bit as shocked, so stunned at what his eyes beheld that he didn’t notice that he was spilling his can of Pitt all over himself, the sugary sweet drink dribbling down his chin and soaking his shirt.
“That’s him alright…” Dipper finally spoke up, downing what remained of the can and tossing it aside. “Wow…who did he owe money to for him to star in this clunker?”
“Eh…” Wendy shrugged, cracking open a can of what Dipper assumed was more Pitt and taking a big swig of it. “I just assume most of his movie career is based on either debt or blackmail.”
“Well…” Dipper said as an idea suddenly came to him when he remembered the name of the director of this stinker. “I bet if you asked him, he’d give his answer in song…” Dipper then cleared his throat, and took a deep breath before singing his answer. “And I would do anything for Boll!”
Wendy, in the middle of taking another swig of her drink, laughed through the swig and caused some of it to spray out of her nose. There was an intense, burning sensation, but she was laughing too hard to care. In fact, she recovered quick, downed the rest of it, and added to Dipper’s verse. “Oh I would do anything for Boll!”
The two riffers then joined together, Windy placing her arm over Dipper’s shoulders while Dipper wrapped his arm around her waist, and the two finished the verse in perfect unison.
“I would do anything for Boll…but I will not act!”
After a few moments of uproarious laughter, the two settled down and continued watching, and laughing at, this incredibly corny movie. Once the movie was drawing to a close, Wendy reached over toward the ice-filled cooler resting by the side of her bed, which contained various drinks and snacks best served chilled, grabbing two cold cans and tossing one to Dipper as the next movie began to play. Dipper caught the can and cracked it open, taking a generous glug of Pitt…or at least he thought it was Pitt. When Wendy saw that the can of a cold, tasty beverage she was holding wasn’t what she reached for, the realization hit her like a truck.
“Dipper!” she cried as she turned toward him. “Don’t drink-!!”
It was too late. Once Dipper’s taste buds were assaulted with a bitter, piney, and citrusy front, sweet malt, and a dry finish in lieu of the nice sweet Pitt his eyes shut wide open and his gag-reflex worked double time. He spit the beverage out in a foamy, frothy cloud and proceeded to cough his lungs out. Wendy only watched horrorstruck as Dipper recovered, finally regaining himself enough to make sense of what just happened.
“Ugh!” he gagged as he looked at the can in his hand. “This Pitt tastes like it was filtered through a pine….tree…”
When Dipper observed what he was holding, his mind blew and his heart sank. What he held was not the unmistakable pink can of Pitt Cola, but rather a green can depicting a mermaid sitting on a rock in the ocean with red, flowing hair that conveniently covered her breasts. She held a mug full of golden ale with a thick, frothy head, and behind her was a hurricane of green, cone-shaped herbs, and her face wore a ‘come hither’ expression. But that wasn’t it. When he read the title and the description, his stomach jumped into his throat.
Atlantis India Pale Ale
Become part of our world and enjoy this delectable balance of cascade, golding, and grapefruit hops and malt fit for Atlantian royalty. Partake in this celebration of all things better down where it’s wetter and set sail for new horizons with this brew by your side, and don’t forget to share one with the King of the Sea should he come and visit you on your grand voyage.
“Wendy…” Dipper said in a low voice. “You…drink?”
To be continued...
---------------------------
Gravity Falls
Jurassic Snark
By Nurse Katie
Gravity Falls
Jurassic Snark
By Nurse Katie
It was a warm summer night at the small Oregon town of Gravity Falls. The moon was high, storm clouds loomed ominously in the distance, shops were closed, and many homes were dark as their residents turned in for the night. Some homes still had light in their windows, and one such place was none other than the local tourist trap the Mystery Shack. Most of the Pines family had also retired for the night, save for one. Dipper, one half of the Pines Twins, had been staying up binge-watching the Used To Be About History Channel. All the lights were off, the soft glow of Grunkle Stan’s ancient TV being the only illumination in the room. Dipper’s eyes were completely glued to the screen as he was immersed into an episode of Extremely Old Extraterrestrials that discussed how it was aliens that created the dinosaurs, Noah’s Ark, coffee, and…pretty much everything else.
“I’m not saying the spork was invented by aliens…” spoke one of the show’s commentators, wearing a tweed jacket and who’s hair looked like he made out with a power outlet. “…but the spork was invented by aliens!”
“Well…” Dipper shrugged in half-agreement and half-disinterest. “Sure is weird enough for that.”
Suddenly the living room lights came to life, temporarily blinding Dipper as he shielded his eyes and groaned from the unpleasant sensation. The one responsible was none other than his Grunkle Stan, wearing nothing but his slippers, tank top, boxers, and fez, his glasses in one hand as he tiredly rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. When he put his glasses back on, he looked at the TV.
“Jeez, kid!” he said in his gruff, slightly raspy voice. “It’s passed ten. You’re still watching this garbage?”
“Hey, it’s not garbage!” Dipper said defensively. “It’s very informative and brings new perspectives on…” Right in the middle of his defense, the show began talking about how the Cuban Missile Crisis was actually about discovering dinosaurs that survived the K-T mass extinction…somehow…and that the Kennedy Assassination was perpetrated by bug-like aliens that left green chemical trails and craved sugar-water, and that the entire event was a collaboration between their species and the lizard people living under Los Angeles trying to cover up the fact that Marlynn Monroe was having an affair with the lizard prime minister. In that instant Dipper’s defense died on the spot. “Okay, it’s garbage. But it’s entertaining garbage.” Dipper conceded.
“If you say so.” Stan shrugged. “Personally I preferred my conspiracy theories when they weren’t on TV. Left a lot more to the imagination that way. Now that there’s a circus’ worth of talking heads endlessly discussing them it seems like they got to make up new junk just to keep people interested.” It was then that Stan gestured toward the TV as a picture of Fidel Castro riding a triceratops popped up. “I mean, dinosaurs in Cuba? Come on.”
“Well…” Dipper said through a mouthful of popcorn, washing it down with some Pitt before finishing his sentence. “To be fair, the dinosaur thing isn’t that crazy. I mean, we have some here in Gravity Falls.”
“That’s different!” Stan shot back. “They’re frozen in ancient underground tree-sap that is somehow inexplicably keeping them alive as it has for over 60 million years. WAY less crazy!” That brought a laugh out of Dipper, clenching his snack and soda-filled belly.
“Whatever you say, Grunkle Stan.” Dipper said through his laughter, which slowly turned into a tired, drawn out yawn. A yawn that didn’t go unnoticed by Grunkle Stan.
“Alright, ya little goblin.” Stan smirked as he walked toward the kitchen, playfully ruffling Dipper’s hair as he walked by. “Finish up your show and then get to bed. I think you had enough crazy conspiracy for one night.”
“Okay, Grunkle Stan…” Dipper said as he slowly began to fade, rubbing his eyes as the show he watched was beginning to close with an artist’s depiction of how World War II came to a close…by Soviet raptors storming Hitler’s bunker and eating him alive. The image was too obtuse to not laugh at. “Yeah…” Dipper said in a steadily trailing voice. “Crazy…”
Little did Dipper know that deep down in the sap caverns, the increasingly warm weather was making the sap containing the dinosaurs held captive was growing increasingly weaker. Thankfully most of them were far too weak to break out, and those that were strong enough were simply held in far too much sap for them to break through…all save for one. As the sap containing a particularly large therapod was melting away, an eye of the ferocious beast was soon exposed. Between the intense heat and a particularly strong, natural urge of its own, it wasn’t long at all before the bulk of his snout was exposed, a loathsome and hungry growl echoing through the mines.
Back at the Mystery Shack, Dipper had just made it back to his room, kicking off his shoes and shedding his clothes until he was in nothing but his tighty-whities and hat, then hanging his hat as he crawled into his bed and pulled the covers over him. His sister Mabel was already sound asleep in her bed, and he was quickly following her to dreamland. Alas, he didn’t even get to close his eyes before his phone vibrated, which he begrudgingly answered without checking the caller ID. “Hello?” he said through an exhausted voice.
“Hey, dude!” Came the voice of Wendy from the other end. “Thought you’d still be awake. Hey, I can’t sleep. Want to come over and watch some cheesy movies with me?”
In that very instant, the tired and weary Dipper was more invigorated than he would have been if he had gotten 12 hours of sleep and drank several cups of black coffee while getting several adrenaline shots at once. He sat up straight in his bed, his eyes enthusiastically wide and an ear to ear grin on his face.
“Would I!?” he blurted out in an excited and gleeful tone, which immediately retracted before struggling to save face for his former-kinda-sorta-still crush. He also glanced over at Mabel to make sure his excited outburst didn’t wake her, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw she was still snoozing away. “Uh…I mean…” he said in a cooler and more subdued voice. Yeah. Sounds good. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
“Sweet!” came an elated Wendy. “Better hurry, dude. Think it’s going to start raining any second.”
“Okay.” Dipper said with a smile. “See you soon.”
Dipper quickly and quietly got dressed, careful not to wake his sister. She’d stir now and again, but always go back to sleep afterwards. Soon enough Dipper was fully dressed, save for his shoes which he carried in one hand. He silently tip-toed out of their room and discreetly closed the door, the soft pitter-patter of his sock-clad feet slowly descending down the stairs. Once creek and click of the front door being opened and closed danced across listening ears, a happy grin came to Mabel’s face and one eye opening, looking toward the door.
“Go get her, Casanova.” Mabel whispered before drifting back to sleep.
Later…
On the highly leading to Gravity Falls, there was a date to be met. A due date to deliver a classified government package to a secret base hidden in the Oregon wilderness, inbound from Highland, Texas. 18 wheels of muscle and fury, hauling an armored trailer strong enough to hold a raging elephant…and being driven by two of the biggest idiots in the trucking industry.
“Candy Cane?” came a lonely yet ominous voice over the CB…which somehow made it over the power metal playing on the radio. “Anybody out there know Candy Cane? I need to find Candy Cane…”
The mic was plucked from the CB by the driver, a brown haired, large headed individual with some impressively big teeth and small, squinty eyes.
“Uh…” the driver said with a deep yet nasally voice through a low, throaty chuckle. “Candy Cane’s not here, asswipe. Uh huh huh huh…”
“Yeah!” the shrill voiced, wild-eyed, equally large headed blonde haired passenger chimed in with a wicked grin. “She’s like, um, hmm hmm, heh, not here! She’s um, hmm hmm, somewhere else…hmm hmm, heh.”
“I need to find Candy Cane…” came the voice yet again.
“Uh…” the driver spoke into the CB again. “Ask, like, your mom. Uh huh huh huh…”
“Yeah!” the passenger added. “Like, hmm hmm, your mom’s a whore! Hmm hmm, heh, and a slut! Yeah, a slut! And she sucks cocks, and has big boobs and a huge butt and-” the passenger’s sentence was suddenly cut off by a quick punch to the jaw from the driver. “AHHH!!! Stop hitting me, asshole! Hmm hmm, heh!”
“Settle down…” the driver dismissed. “Uh huh huh huh…”
Anything the voice on the other end of the CB said was drowned out by the incessant and idiotic giggling from the driver and passenger, not to mention the blaring power metal over the radio. Power metal that was steadily losing its signal and becoming more and more distorted and incoherent, prompting the driver to take his eyes off the road and begin messing with the radio.
“Damn it…” the driver grumbled and he toyed with the radio tuner. “Stupid radio…” It wasn’t long at all before he found another, clearer station, playing a country/western song that made both truckers grimace.
“Ack!” the passenger protested. “Dude, this song sucks! Change it!”
“Settle down, butthole!” the driver retorted.
More and more, the driver focused on finding some decent tunes and less on the road, their rig swerving to and fro on the empty highway. Off in the distance, the passenger noticed something. A large, shadowy figure as big as the truck they were in, and it was…moving? It appeared to be crossing the highway, and in the encroaching darkness it became harder and harder to see. Until they came close enough to where the truck’s headlights could illuminate it and the object’s head turned to face the on-coming truck, he couldn’t believe what he saw…as awesome as it was.
“Whoa!” he shouted with eyes wide with shock. “Dude, is that a T-rex!?”
“You dumbass.” The driver said as he finally settled on a radio station and put his eyes back on the road. “There’s no such thing as a T-”
In that moment the driver’s squinty, beady little eyes went as wide as they’d go when just 50 feet in front of them stood a 15 foot tall, 40 foot long tyrannosaurus rex, it’s eyes illuminated in the headlights of the oncoming truck. It had thick, scaly green skin and weighed nearly ten tons, staring back at the truck and suddenly letting out a booming roar that shook the cab of the rig. Panicking, the driver swerved around the hulking theropod, avoiding a collision but going off road and spinning out of control. As the driver tried to recover he overcompensated on the turn and caused the trailer to snap off and careen into the woods, barreling out of control and smashing into several trees. The truck itself managed to get back on the road, but only to smash into a billboard advertising Old Greasy’s Diner. The impact sent the passenger, who wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, rocketing out through the windshield and skipping across the asphalt like a stone skipping across the water before finally coming to a stop at about half a football field’s worth of distance from the crash site.
“That FUCKING HURT!” he bellowed as thunder roared in the distance and rain began to pour from above. It started as a light shower, but quickly grew heavier with each passing moment. The T-rex looked on, grunted, and continued to cross the highway and venture further into the woods. The driver, much better off from wearing his seatbelt, simply stared in awe with his mouth agape at the scene that just unfolded before him, his squinty eyes as wide as they could physically go without his eyeballs jumping out of his head. After a few moments of silence save for the increasingly pouring rain and the thunderous footsteps of the increasingly distant T-rex, he finally spoke.
“Whoa…” he said, followed by another chuckle. “That was cool!”
“This is Rubber Duck calling Cornholio the Great,” came a deep voice adorned with a Southern accent over the CB. “Rubber Duck to Cornholio; where the heck are you? You two knuckleheads were supposed to be here over an hour ago!”
The driver grabbed the microphone and spoke, rather nonchalantly, into it.
“Uh……..we crashed.”
Indeed they had, for their trailer was now turned on its’ side over in the bush, having taken some serious punishment in the wreck. Enough to where the structural integrity was compromised…something its’ passenger was more than aware of. Intense thrashing noises came from within, and suddenly the steel walls bent and contorted as though they were made of tin foil. Suddenly it was torn from within, and a tall, dark figure leapt from the homemade exit……and took to the air, the buzzing of wasp-like wings attached to a feminine yet alien looking body. It glanced around as rain poured around it, looking for signs of life from its’ airborne position…and it wasn’t long at all before it found exactly what it was looking for. Off in the distance were the fading lights of a small town as Gravity Falls turned in for the night. With fierce intent, the creature flew toward the slumbering town as fast as its’ wings could carry it, the rain coming down even harder and thunder drowning out the buzzing wings. The creature had one thing on its’ mind, and it wasn’t going to stop until it got exactly that.
“Feed…” it droned in a monotone, trance-like voice. “Breed…”
……….
The storm raged on outside, the moon long since swallowed by the clouds and the midnight hour long passed. Rain pounded against the walls and on the roofs of the homes in Gravity Falls. The Corduroy residence was no exception, where light but from a single window shined in the darkness. Her brothers were spending the night with friends and the Corduroy Patriarch had his usual nightcap of four quarts of bourbon and 12 beers, so sound asleep that even the pouring rain, booming thunder, and raucous laughter of his daughter and her friend couldn’t wake him. They were already half through their second movie for the night, and neither were showing signs of slowing down.
“Dude….” An awestruck Wendy said with her mouth agape, her eyes unable to peel away from the bizarre image playing on her TV. “Is that Meat Loaf?”
The movie itself was a horror movie about vampires loosely based on a series of video-games sharing the title, and they had just reached a scene where the famous singer was giving perhaps his hammiest yet most uncaring performance in his career. Dipper was every bit as shocked, so stunned at what his eyes beheld that he didn’t notice that he was spilling his can of Pitt all over himself, the sugary sweet drink dribbling down his chin and soaking his shirt.
“That’s him alright…” Dipper finally spoke up, downing what remained of the can and tossing it aside. “Wow…who did he owe money to for him to star in this clunker?”
“Eh…” Wendy shrugged, cracking open a can of what Dipper assumed was more Pitt and taking a big swig of it. “I just assume most of his movie career is based on either debt or blackmail.”
“Well…” Dipper said as an idea suddenly came to him when he remembered the name of the director of this stinker. “I bet if you asked him, he’d give his answer in song…” Dipper then cleared his throat, and took a deep breath before singing his answer. “And I would do anything for Boll!”
Wendy, in the middle of taking another swig of her drink, laughed through the swig and caused some of it to spray out of her nose. There was an intense, burning sensation, but she was laughing too hard to care. In fact, she recovered quick, downed the rest of it, and added to Dipper’s verse. “Oh I would do anything for Boll!”
The two riffers then joined together, Windy placing her arm over Dipper’s shoulders while Dipper wrapped his arm around her waist, and the two finished the verse in perfect unison.
“I would do anything for Boll…but I will not act!”
After a few moments of uproarious laughter, the two settled down and continued watching, and laughing at, this incredibly corny movie. Once the movie was drawing to a close, Wendy reached over toward the ice-filled cooler resting by the side of her bed, which contained various drinks and snacks best served chilled, grabbing two cold cans and tossing one to Dipper as the next movie began to play. Dipper caught the can and cracked it open, taking a generous glug of Pitt…or at least he thought it was Pitt. When Wendy saw that the can of a cold, tasty beverage she was holding wasn’t what she reached for, the realization hit her like a truck.
“Dipper!” she cried as she turned toward him. “Don’t drink-!!”
It was too late. Once Dipper’s taste buds were assaulted with a bitter, piney, and citrusy front, sweet malt, and a dry finish in lieu of the nice sweet Pitt his eyes shut wide open and his gag-reflex worked double time. He spit the beverage out in a foamy, frothy cloud and proceeded to cough his lungs out. Wendy only watched horrorstruck as Dipper recovered, finally regaining himself enough to make sense of what just happened.
“Ugh!” he gagged as he looked at the can in his hand. “This Pitt tastes like it was filtered through a pine….tree…”
When Dipper observed what he was holding, his mind blew and his heart sank. What he held was not the unmistakable pink can of Pitt Cola, but rather a green can depicting a mermaid sitting on a rock in the ocean with red, flowing hair that conveniently covered her breasts. She held a mug full of golden ale with a thick, frothy head, and behind her was a hurricane of green, cone-shaped herbs, and her face wore a ‘come hither’ expression. But that wasn’t it. When he read the title and the description, his stomach jumped into his throat.
Atlantis India Pale Ale
Become part of our world and enjoy this delectable balance of cascade, golding, and grapefruit hops and malt fit for Atlantian royalty. Partake in this celebration of all things better down where it’s wetter and set sail for new horizons with this brew by your side, and don’t forget to share one with the King of the Sea should he come and visit you on your grand voyage.
A mortified Dipper slowly turned toward Wendy, who bit her lower lip in a mixture of humiliation and abstract horror.
“Wendy…” Dipper said in a low voice. “You…drink?”
To be continued...
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