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Mabel Pines was sixteen years old the first time her mother threw up her hands and said, all right, fine, since Dipper was going to be headed to a trainee detective’s retreat in the mountain for the summer then she could go hang out with her Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan for the summer. And Mabel – who’d been begging her mother for permission to go on their boat, keeping up a strong email and video conference correspondence with her Grunkles for years - almost didn’t believe it’s really happening until she’s standing on the dock with her suitcase and laptop, and her Uncles’ boat is chugging into port.
The Stan O’ War looks better than it did the last time she saw it – it was varnished and polished, with a new coat of paint on the broadside and an aftdeck you could eat off of. Ford and Stan have worked hard to build it up, and it’s pretty glorious to be there as she waved goodbye to her folks, to send one last excited text to Dipper, and make a move toward the gangway.
Grunkle Stan was there, and he automatically offered a hand to scoop her out of harm’s way. “There ya go, sweetie,” Stan said, helping her aboard. “Watch out for the top step,” he added at the top of his voice, “it’s got a nail sticking out of it!”
She laughed and gave him a confident grin. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan, but I’m pretty sure I can handle myself.” She peered into the darkness of the belowdeck cabins. Her little berth, nothing more than a hammock with a shelf nailed beside it, looked comfy, but Mabel instead spun around and dropped her backpack, tackle-hugging her other Grunkle as Stan talked animatedly with Mabel’s parents.
She automatically squeezed Grunkle Ford too hard, and let out a soft ‘oof’ and squeezed her back, much more softly. “How are you, Mabel?”
“Doing super! I got an A on my trig final just like you said I would!”
He grinned. “Your Pines smarts are at work,” he said, and turned toward the steering wheel. “All ashore who’s going ashore!”
“…And I promise to make sure Mabel rinses out her retainer!” Stan finished. “See ya!”
Mabel’s parents – having been together for over two decades now – simply gave an awkward smile as the Stan O’ War chugged out of port. Mabel totally knew they knew she’d make contact once they made port again – she didn’t know why her father had chugged two sips of milk of magnesia that morning like he was getting ready to address Congress. Adults were so weird.
She stood on the deck and waved, watching the shoreline get smaller and smaller until there was nothing but her Grunkles and the big blue sea.
She immediately flew between Stan and Ford, excitedly burbling. “What’s first? Are we going to fight deadly seahorses? Save mermaids from tuna boats?” she gave an excited gasp. “Help lost sea kittens find their moms?!”
“I was gonna mop out the can,” Stan said.
“And I was planning on checking our star maps.” Ford adjusted his spectacles and added with delight, “We should be six days from our first stop. I hope you don’t mind snoring and boxed oatmeal for dinner.”
But Mabel’s eyes lit up. “Ooh! Do you think I could put googly eyes on the mop and trace our route with glitter glue?” Mabel had come prepared , as always, to add life to her grunkle’s semi-well-ordered world.
Ford and Stan glanced at each other, and shrugged.
“That mop’s seen worse,” Stan declared, and turned toward the stairs to the galley.
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Four minutes later, Stan’s mop was sporting a rather large pair of googly eyes and bow as they left the now-clean bathroom.
“Ick,” Mabel said, drying her now-clean hands while Stan flopped down on an apple crate, “so many spiders,” she said, shivering.
“That’ll happen. High sea spiders love wet places.” Stan raised an eyebrow. “I wish I didn’t know that.”
Mabel grinned and rocked on her heels. “Grunkle Stan, remember when you called me the other day and you tried to sneak Duck-tective spoilers out of me and I said I COMPLETELY forgot where my DVDs are and then you screamed really loud and scared Waddles the Second into hiding under my bed?”
“…Nah,” Stan said, though it was clear from the look in his eyes that he did.
Mabel dug through her crafting supply bag, and, with a ta-da, pulled out the latest season of Duck-tective on DVD. “My folks got me this just before I left!”
Stan made a sound of pure delight and snatched it up out of her grip. “This is why you’re my favorite grandniece.”
Mabel dimpled at him. “I’m your ONLY grandniece, Grunkle Stan!”
Stan cradled the DVD set to chest like a newborn infant. “Details shmetails. We’re gonna watch the heck out of these DVDs!”
“We’d better check and see if Uncle Ford needs us!”
Stan cupped a hand to his mouth. “HEY, FORD! DO YOU NEED US FOR FOUR HOURS, THREE MINUTES AND FORTY SECONDS?”
A pause. “That’s very specific, but no, we’re cruising steadily.”
“All right,” Stan grinned. He and Mabel hopped in place, rushing over to the tiny TV and DVD player that Stan and Ford used for entertainment.
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“Y’know, I could really get behind a Missus Duck-tective spin-off.” Stan hunched forward on his crate, eagerly watching the action play out as he enjoyed his bowl of oatmeal.
Mabel’s own oatmeal was congealing on the bottom of her bowl. She gasped. “Lady Chickamere left her fan on the stove before she left for her errand! Didn’t they just say she was afraid of stoves?! Do you think that means her feathers were the ones stuffed in the Colonel’s pillow?”
Further discussion was halted as the boat wildly listed to the left, spilling Mabel and Stan onto the ground.
Stan stood up and brushed off his shirt, a look of alarm on his face. “Aww crap, not again!”
“What? What crap? Where’s the crap?” Mabel asked.
“C’mon!” he called over his shoulder, lurching toward the deck. Mabel was a step behind him, lugging her backpack in case she needed it, and she had just enough time to see him rush to the side of the deck, cupping Ford’s shoulder as the man stared over the railing into the distance.
It was much darker out than it had been when she’d gone belowdeck; Mabel groped around in her bag for a flashlight and tried to shine it into the darkness.
To her surprise, there was something out in the mist. Something, because she couldn’t name nor could she recognize it – it was just a black mass in the distance, like an outcropping of rocks or a cliff. A low buzz, like an electric drill’s hum, filled her ears. As the Stan O’ War parted the mist with its’ prow Mabel could almost make out a glowing, two tiny pinpricks of light in all of that grey.
“Easy. Don’t jump into the drink this time,” Stan said, fingers tightening on the other Grunkle’s flesh. Mabel glimpsed Ford’s eyes then, and let out a muffled sound of surprise – he was transfixed by whatever lay on those rocks. She braced herself for whatever she would see as the boat swam ever nearer to it, the humming growing wilder, more insistent.
The fog lifted slightly as the boat passed. Mabel saw them, suddenly; a group of beautiful women, lounging on the rocks. They continued to hum, following the Stan O’War’s progress with their eyes as the ship floated further away from them. No one moved until they were firmly out of sight of the rocks and the women.
All at once, Ford’s eyes cleared. “Did they find us again?” asked Ford, rubbing a hand over his brow.
“Yep,” Stan said. “You stayed on deck this time.”
“Why are they lying out in the middle of the ocean like that?” Mabel wondered. “Do they live on that rock? Are they rock-ladies?!”
“Those,” Stan said, heading over to the steering wheel and pulling the ship astern, “are selkies. Half seal, half woman, all weirdness. Every year, they climb out of the ocean, peel off their skins and try to convince humans to mate with them. Then, when they’re done…” He jerked his thumb across his throat.
“Geesh, Grunkle Ford, I knew you were lonely…”
“Hey, don’t tease him! They’re really charming when they want to be.” Stan glowered. “I oughta know. I went out with a succubus once. She took my wallet! My good one, the one with the secret compartment in the back! Anyway, if you kiss one of ‘em twice and get away, then you’re immune for life. Like with mono. So guess which one of us isn’t.”
“You don’t have to rub it in,” Ford huffed.
“Believe me, you’re not missing out.” Stan stuck out the tip of his tongue. “They all taste like fish and anger.”
“So maybe we should find a nice selkie, let Grunkle Ford kiss her, and then run for our lives.”
“An exemplary idea. Unfortunately, the last time I tried to kiss one I panicked and accidentally threw up the mackerel she presented me with as a lovely courtship gift.”
“That’s a huge insult in selkie world,” said Stan. “Believe me, if they give you fish you don’t wanna reject it! They’ve been chasing us ever since, looking for revenge.”
“And they’ll keep chasing us until I finally kiss one of them. Which is something I’m strongly considering avoiding.”
“We already talked about this! You can’t run forever!”
“Of course not, that’d be absurd Stan,” said Ford. “But I’m sure if we make it through the summer and then dock for the winter months they’ll find a new target.”
“Right, that’s why they chased us over a thousand miles just to get to the stinkin’ boat!”
The two brothers glared at each other. Mabel made a nervous noise, then reached for their hands.
“Hey, let’s not fight!” she said. “If we get all divided up then the selkies will sneak up on us. And climb into our skins while we’re sleeping…”
“See? She’s going to get all freaked out!” Grunkle Stan put a protective hand on Mabel’s shoulder.
Ford sighed. Even his stubbornness had its limits. “We still have oatmeal downstairs, don’t we?”
“Yep. On the stove, just where I left it.”
“I assumed,” Ford said. He adjusted his spectacles and sighed. “Thank you for keeping me safe, Stanley.”
Grunkle Stan smiled, and Mabel felt her heart lighten. The crisis was, for the moment, stalled.
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After another bowl of oatmeal, some bananas and apple sauce and another round of Ducktective, Mabel found herself dreaming in her bunk. There was a large, endless ocean, and a girl standing there, blue-skinned and shivering in a dress.
“Help us, Mabel,” she requested, her eyes nearly clear, the strange transparent color of a sea ready to storm.
Mabel dreamed about other things as the night progressed; but that girl, her urgent franticness, that was what stayed with her when she woke in the middle of the morning to the sound of Grunkle Ford singing disco music as he mopped the common room up.
Mabel found Stan up on the deck, and he remarked instantly upon her tired expression.
Well, he said she looked like the living dead, but she supposed those were semantics.
“Grunkle Stan, have you ever had weird, spooky dream about a haunting woman who was trying to tell you something?”
“Heh, my dreams about girls aren’t spooky....” He blinked. “Are you serious?”
She nodded her head. “She was beautiful and she wanted me to help her. She had these weird eyes that were kind of piercing.”
“Like not-human piercing?” Stan asked. Mabel nodded. “Hmm,” he muttered. “You know, selkies can project themselves into people’s dreams. It’s kinda rare, but if you’re an imaginative person they’ll try it. And just about anything. Like I said, selkies are freakin’ weird.
“I’m an imaginative human!” Mabel said. “Do you think I can talk to her the next time I see her?”
“Eh, it’s worth a shot,” Stan said, and ruffled her hair. “But we don’t have to do it unless they get super weird about everything.”
“Doesn’t dream invasion count as super weird?” Stan gave Mabel a knowing look and she shrugged. “I just wanted to pretend for a little while for Grunkle Ford’s sake. He’s kinda stressed out! ”
“I’m not stressed out!” insisted Ford, as he poured himself a cup of instant coffee. “I’m dealing with the fact that a group of hungry, sharp-toothed selkies want to rip my body apart follicle by follicle after extracting my genetic material in some fashion with a rational, cool, calm, collected psyche.”
“Grunkle Ford, you’re pouring coffee into the oatmeal.”
“…In a rational way,” he said, sighing as he tossed the bowlful of oatmeal into the slop sink.
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For most of the day, Mabel settled on the main deck, trying to communicate with the selkie who had made contact with her. The cool wind whipped around her form as she meditated, eyes closed tight and her mouth a long, straight line.
“Mabel? MABEL!” Grunkle Stan shouted. “We made it into port, sweetie! If you want a burger and a hot bath, now’s the time!”
That broke her concentration, but she couldn’t honestly complain about it. Burgers and hot baths sounded like heaven and would give her noodle some time to rest.
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Ford, Mabel and Stan wandered around the tiny seaport town of Berke with curiosity and hunger in their open gazes. The island was crowded with tourists visiting from Greenland and the larger islands nearby, and stalls bustled with happy shouting, people selling knit hats and warm scarves and big mugs of cocoa. They ended up having hot dogs together, sitting on a high rock wall, between bites of French fries held in a big plastic bucket.
“Ahh, Berke Island. Home of the bottomless trough of fries,” Stan mused happily. “If they had a mini bucket of ketchup to go with it, it’d be perfect.”
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Stan,” Ford said. “After all, they gave us a double scoop after Mabel drew glitter smiley faces on their cheeks.”
“And now you know why I always bring my glitter pens everywhere!” Mabel grinned.
“You get that preparedness from me,” boasted Ford, who finished his hot dog and another couple of fries, which he ate with precise, quick bites.
Stan just shoved the last of the fries into his mouth and passed the empty bucket to Ford. “Your turn, I cleaned out the slop trap.”
Ford shook his head, getting up with the leavings. “Why don’t the two of you get a head start? I’ll throw away our trash and catch up with you in a minute. Does everyone know where we’re going?”
Stan sighed deeply. “Yeah, I completely forgot in the three hours since we talked about it….”
“THE ROCK MUSEUM!” Mabel said, her eyes shining. “They have a glitter exhibit! And then the Harfensheffer Horse Museum!!”
Ford adjusted his glasses and sighed. “Right, we’re going to the rock museum, then the pony exhibit.” She knew that Grunkle Ford would likely enjoy avoiding the latter. She decided she’d buy him a stuffed pony hat just because she felt bad for him.
“Then dinner, then back on the boat and straight on to the North Pole!” Said Stan, with a bit of smug satisfaction. The two brothers saluted each other playfully – they might get along quite well nowadays but there was always the gentlest of pushes and the littlest bit of pulling between the two of them. Ford went off to toss out the garbage, and Stan and Mabel walked along the crowded boulevard until they found the museum’s cheerful entrance.
Less cheerful was the entry price, which instantly outraged Stan. “Thirty bucks to see a bunch of rocks?! I coulda taken you back to Gravity Falls and seen a ton of ‘em for free!”
“I could give you the senior discount, sir,” said an unimpressed teenager with a lip ring, who tapped her fingers against the keys of the cash register.
“He’s not a senior!” Mabel said. “He’s just got character!”
Stan groaned at his grandniece’s attempt at smoothing over the wound. “One teen, two adults,” he said.
Mabel’s phone buzzed; she let out a sound of delight. “It’s Dipper!” she said, and immediately typed out a quick message to her twin telling him where they were and what Mabel and Stan were doing.
Dipper texted her back pictures of the detective camp; of his roommate and the clue he’d found and the cryptid flow chart he was working on – and a tuft of hair he promised was from the abominable snowman. She was almost kind of jealous – until she told him about Grunkle Ford and the selkie.
“Noo, Dipper,” she sighed, texting him back, “I’m not going to take a recording of the selkies’ singing! You’ll throw yourself into a punch bowl!”
When she glanced up, Grunkle Stan was frowning at a figure in the far distance.
“Mabel,” he said quietly, “stay here.”
She didn’t know who he was chasing after until she saw a flash of grey in the far distance, a familiar camel coat – and a red-polished hand dragging him down the street, away from the public and toward the docks.
The selkie had shed her skin, apparently. Shed it, found Grunkle Ford and hypnotized him!
By the time Mabel caught up to Stan, the selkie had already dragged Ford into the water and was swimming westward. Wordlessly, Mabel and Stan flew back to the Stan O’War and began to sail in their direction. The sun had begun to set, which would make the journey even more treacherous.
Perhaps the speed of the boat was a bit abrupt, even for Mabel’s hearty, seafaring self. “Grunkle Stan, I think we’re probably gonna hurl before we get there!”
“Keep breathing deep, sweetie. Think of ginger," he encouraged, his eyes locked on the water the selkie churned up in her wake.
“I have to admit I’m a little tiny bit worried that we might be breaking a few boating laws here,” she laughed nervously.
“Mabel, sweetie, there’s the letter of the law and the intent of the law,” Stan said, slamming his foot down on the gas and navigating the boat through several miles of icebergs and rocky outcroppings. “We’re following the intent!” Mabel clung to the mast as Grunkle Stan added, “we’ve gotta be fast! If we’re not, that chick’s going to suck out his brains like he’s an orange slice!”
Mabel’s eyes turned steely; her jaw locked and her lips formed a firm line against the dimpled rise of her cheeks. She grabbed the doorway of the galley and held on as hard as she could until Grunkle Stan abruptly killed the engine.
Mabel immediately understood why. She heard before she saw it – the humming drone of hundreds and hundreds of selkies singing their mating call. She stayed perfectly still and closed her eyes, thinking of the blonde girl she’d seen in her dream – somehow trying to make contact with her, projecting her thoughts into the air. She hummed through her nose and really thought as hard as she could.
When she opened her eyes, it was to the sight of a hundred more glowing back at her, red as hot pokers.
Stan was beside her. He rolled up his sleeves and stared at the mountain all but made of glowing, eyes. He didn’t seem afraid at all, which lent Mable some extra bravery. Not that she was timid – in fact, as they grew closer to the mountain laden with selkies she could see Grunkle Ford, tied and gagged, and being dragged up and away by the woman who had hypnotized him – her heart began to pound. Steeling herself, she heard Stan’s voice from beside her.
“Mabel, do you still have that grappling hook of yours?”
She grinned and pulled it out of her knapsack. “I’ve also got glitter spraypaint and a bunch of really sharp toothpicks.”
“Leave half the violence and the Ford-saving to me!” he said. “Whatever you do, don’t get hurt – and don’t watch the last three episodes of Ducktective without me!”
Mabel nodded, swinging her grappling hook up and over her head, hoping beyond hope that it would land somewhere good and solid. A loud thunk and a series of angry screeches, followed by a solid tug on the end of the rope told her she’d been successful. Stan grabbed a portion of the rope just above Mabel’s hand and they clung to each other as they got a running start and used leverage to land with a shared scream on the cliffside of the rocks.
Neither of them looked down, moving in unison up the sheer side of the rock with the help of the grappling hook’s firm grip. By the time they reached solid ground – a narrow footpath above the hissing selkies below them - Mabel felt as shaky as a bowl of Jello but refused to back down from the challenge before her. Stan helped Mabel scramble upward to a safer foothold, then inch by inch, they crept toward the cave at where Ford had been taken.
When Mabel dared to finally look down, it was to see a throng of human-shaped women with large red eyes hissing up at her. They were trying to scramble up the rock, of course. But it was a darned hard task with human feet and human hands and no climbing equipment.
“Hey,” Stan whispered, “there’s no way up the last footpath without me boosting you there. Get ready for some heaving and hoing!”
“I was BORN heaving…” she wrinkled her nose as Grunkle Stan cupped her foot and prepared to toss her up over his head. “EwwwAH!!” she shouted as she was flung up over his head and then belly down onto the plateau near the footpath, her bag landing beside her in a cloud of dust.
“Now pull me up!” he said, offering her his hand, but Stan was a bit too bottom heavy for Mabel to pull up with her bare hands.
She dug around worriedly in her pack. “Grunkle Stan, do you think you’re light enough to climb a ladder made out of sticker-covered Popsicle sticks?”
He frowned up at her. “Maybe when I was six. Come on, Mabel!” The hissing selkies were getting even closer.
“I’m trying!” She said. But then her eyes lit up. “YES!” she shouted, holding aloft a bottle of Krazy Glue and a series of plastic thumb grips.
“I’m not even gonna ask why you have those,” Stan said, catching the caps and gluing them to the side of the wall.
“Oh, that’s super easy – I’m going to hang a bunch of family pictures on the wall of the Stan O’ War! You and Grunkle Ford can keep them when I go home, so you can always remember us when you’re far away!”
“Aww…” Stan’s thick fingers struggled to maintain a grip on the mounts but he pulled himself skyward with determination. “This’d be really cute, if I weren’t climbing for my life.” The selkies behind him had figured out how to use the footpaths, and they weren’t far away.
Mabel grabbed Stan’s hand and together hauled him onto the plateau. There was less than a second to rest – she grabbed her pack, hauled it over her shoulder and got out of there with him at her heels.
They took a series of extreme turns as they reached the cave at the very top of the rock formation.
“What’re we going to do?” Mabel asked.
Stan shrugged. “We could always draw straws…”
She grabbed his hand. “Let’s go together!”
Stan nodded, his eyes steely as they rushed into the cave, grappling hook at the ready.
The sight that greeted them nearly made Stan chortle. Ford had a large bass jammed between his teeth, his eyes aswirl with selkie magic, and the lovely dark-haired queen bent over him, getting ready to suck his brains right out.
“Hey, seal-lady! Why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?”
She glanced at Ford, then at Stan, her eyebrows quirking in confusion. Stan glowered. “It’s a figure of expression! Get your flippers off my brother!”
That was the straw that broke the selkie’s back, so to speak. Glowering, she tackled Stan to the floor and the two of them started struggling.
Mabel threw herself toward Ford, and worked frantically at the ropes that bound his hands together. With the selkie distracted, his enchantment was broken, and he spat out the fish and started helping Mabel unbind his feet and arms. “How did you manage to find me?”
“Good luck and a lot of guts!” she said.
“If only we knew why the selkies are fixated on us!”
“I have an answer for you. You’re here because of me,” said a familiar soft, high voice from the cave mouth.
Instantly, Mabel understood exactly who stood before her. “You’re the one from my dream!” Mabel said.
The young selkie nodded shyly, moving into the body of the cave proper. “I’m sorry I had to do that, but I couldn’t figure out any other way to stop her. She’s my mother,” admitted the blonde girl quietly, as the selkie queen hissed at her. “And she hasn’t been the same since my father died.”
“Awww,” Mabel said.
“Yes,” Ford declared, his eyes darting about as he tried to squirm out of his bonds, “I would be enormously touched, were I not quite close to becoming selkie tartare!”
The eyes of the selkie princess sharpened. She had to be a princess, Mabel decided - with her regal baring and attitude there was nothing else she could be. “We don’t eat men!” The princess continued along a more genial path. “I hoped that she wouldn’t try to draw in a new man to our pod. But our species is aging, and any mortal man could be used for his genes. Or if they’re lucky, transformed into a selkie for all eternity.”
Mabel considered this idea quietly. Whatever happened next would be up to the young girl's influence over her mother's attitude.
“Mama,” the girl said, “I know you’re still in there! I know you’re sad over dad dying. But our pod needs your guidance. I’m not old enough to rule, and the women won’t listen to me because I lack your wisdom. We need YOU, mother! I need you! Please, forget these mortal men and come back to us!”
The glowing of her eyes cooled subtly, her grip on the collar of Stan’s jacket loosening. Slowly, the human side of her emerged through the cold mask of her selkie exterior; her eyes were as luminous as a full moon and her lips trembled.
“I miss him,” the queen admitted quietly.
“I do, too,” the princess said, wrapping both arms around her mother’s middle.
The Pines watched another family reunite with equal degrees of sentimentality. “Aww. This is the third most touching thing I’ve ever seen while smelling of fish,” observed Stan.
Mabel and Ford, meanwhile, had managed to get Ford mostly untied, and he worked his hands and feet in an attempt at getting blood back into his starved limbs. “Please don’t give me any more details. We’ve all suffered enough for one day,” Ford said, but he was smiling. “Good work, both of you. The two of you are a dynamic team, and the best back-up I have.”
“Now that that’s over,” Stan said, “what’re we going to do about their dude problem?”
“Dude problem?” asked Ford.
“We can’t just leave ‘em alone out here to face a life without uh…friends.”
Mabel’s grin was cheeky. “I think I have an idea that’ll solve all of their problems…”
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A few hours later, Stan had a cluster of selkies standing around him, as he patiently showed them how to use a dating application. Beside him was a crate of phones and solar-powered charges; ordered and air-lifted to the mountain via drone.
“Now, if you see a cute one, swipe left!” He said, and, after a glance at their queen to confirm the rightness of his suggestion, the selkies nodded and made a note of it.
“I still don’t know how he paid for all of this,” said Ford, scratching his chin.
“He has his ways,” Mabel observed. She’d just texted the entire story to Dipper and her brother was beyond flabbergasted.
“….He used one of his dummy cards and a fake ID, didn’t he?” sighed Ford.
“Hey,” said Stan, arriving onto the scene with his phone tucked into his jacket pocket, “I have seven fake IDs burning a hole in my pocket – might as well use one and keep wrecking the credit of some schmo who doesn’t exist instead of my own!”
“Well,” remarked Ford. “That’s rather logical of you.”
“That’s me. Good ol’ logical Stan,” he said, smirking. “Who managed to get us a bunch of fish in return for helping out their queen with her problem.”
Ford turned a bit green around the ears. “I think I’ll stick with the oatmeal.”
Stan rolled his eyes but looped an arm around his brother’s neck. It was a beautiful morning, and they’d managed to help a bunch of women hook up with other mythological, occasionally vicious creatures. All in all it wasn’t a bad day.
Minus the whole fleeing-for-their – lives – Grunkle – Ford – almost – getting – his – brain - eaten part. But Mabel was completely willing to overlook that one when it got her vacation off to one heck of a rip-roaring start.
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Later that morning they had a late breakfast of fish fried in an oatmeal crust (and Ford had a full bowl of plain oatmeal with sugar and cinnamon) while watching the end of Mabel’s Duck-tective DVDs. They laughed together at the adventuresome foibles playing out onscreen and they made bets, trying to figure out who the villain of the week was.
Stan and Mabel guessed right, and they hooted and shared a high five as they watched Duck-tective haul his perp off to jail.
“Another perfect team-up, Uncle Stan,” she said.
“Heh, as usual. You’re still one of the best partners I’ve ever had,” Stan grinned, giving Mabel a quick, hard hug. Ford coughed, and he grabbed Ford and dragged him into the hug. “You too.”
Mabel had to agree. The Pines were a darn good family to belong to, and she was prouder than ever to be on the team!