Chapter Text
Stanley Pines was down on his luck, boy was that the understatement of the century. It had been around a decade since he got kicked out now and his time on the streets was something few could handle. He blinked as the sunlight glared into his rundown motel room. The lack of curtains evident. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, but all remnants of sleep were knocked out of him when someone knocked on his motel door. Slowly he reached for his bat and approached the door.
“Just give me a few more days Rico, I promise I’ll get you that money you know I'm good for it!”
“Mr Alcatraz there's somebody on the line for you.”
Well, that wasn't Rico. He lowered the bat and cautiously unlocked the door. It was the Motel clerk.
“Oh sorry, did they say who it was?”
It was likely his Ma or some shmuck he pulled one over on.
“Said his name was Fiddleford Mcgucket? Told me to get you to call back as soon as possible, you can use the phone at the check in desk”
Fiddleford? Now that's a name Stan hadn't heard, despite the many people he's met.
“I’ll come out in a minute.”
With that the clerk left and Stan got dressed, he didn't much feel like standing around in the motel check in in only his boxers and a wife beater. He slipped on some torn jeans and the scruffy red jacket that has been his only source of comfort throughout the last couple of years. It probably stunk and it was covered in tears and stains, but he found it oddly comforted him. With that he walked out of his room, triple checking its locked before he made his way over to the check in desk. The clerk dialled in the number before passing the phone back to Stanley
“Is this Stanley Pines?
Hell, if Stanley knew how this guy knew his real name, he hadn't used it since he got kicked out of New Jersey. The accent was thick, and Stanley placed it as Tennessee
“Who wants to know?”
Stanley fiddled with the phone cord. Some random southerner somehow knew the number of the Motel he was staying at and his full real name? None of this was quite adding up.
“This is Fiddleford Mcgucket speaking. Stanford's in a bad way. You oughta come see him. You got a notepad and paper with ya?”
Stanley tensed up at the mention of Stanford's name. How on earth would anybody even know to call Stan if something had happened to his twin? It's not like he was up there on the emergency contacts, hell he wouldn't be surprised if Stanford never even mentioned him after he got kicked out.
“I don't know who this is or what you're doing but i don't believe for a second Stanford wants me to come see him.”
“618 Gopher Road, Gravity Falls, Oregon. Please come!”
And with that the line went dead. Stanley managed to scrawl the address on a napkin he dug out of his pocket. Just what in the hell was that? Cruel prank? Somebody managed to get into his past and now they were trying to use it to trick him? Whatever it was Stanley wasn't biting. There was no way his brother truly wanted to see him. But a trip to Oregon couldn't hurt... It's not like he had much going for him in New Mexico, hell if he stuck around much longer, he probably wouldn't live much longer and potentially seeing Ford again could be good... After very little thought he had convinced himself to go. At least he wasn't banned from Oregon. He grabbed the pitiful amount of belongings he had and shoved them in his duffle bag. Opting to leave the Shammy's along with the rest of the unsold Stanco products. He grabbed one last shower despite the pathetic water pressure and lack of anything other than an empty bottle of three in one shampoo that he had filled with water to scrounge out the last of the bubbles. He still looked like a complete mess but at least his mullet was slightly less greasy. God when had he managed to grow a mullet? He shoved everything into his car and made sure to grab every bit of loose change he could find. Getting to Oregon was gonna take a lotta gas.