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Conventions Are Fun (And The People Are Funner)

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"Listen to me, Mabel! You do not go farther than three feet from me at this convention. There are people here. People who-"

 

Dipper Pines' protective older facade crumbles as his eyes drift over a tall figure with a black trench coat and a jet-black spike of hair. "-apparently don't understand that trenchcoats are out of style and have been for, like, three centuries- seriously, in a public place-"

 

The figure turns around and reveals a scowling teenager with large, round spectacles. "Hey! It's an authentic leather replica of Mulder's black trenchcoat!" His eyes are narrowed and his stance is defensive.

Beside Dipper, Mabel blinks owlishly and looks up at the teen. "What's Mulder?" she asks curiously.

After a long pause (during which Dipper buries his face in his hands exasperated- after all, his own sister didn't know of the X-Files-), the teenager's face goes blank. "I don't have time for this," he says finally, shaking his head. "Especially not when there are supernatural creatures all over this con!" Dipper looks skeptical while Mabel absently pats the furry cat on her sweater.

"Really," he says. The teenager looks frustrated. "Totally! Just- agh, look! Over there at the Sherlock booth!" Mabel looks over, confused.

"Why is that there? I thought this was, like, a monster convention."

The teen sighs. "It's supposed to be! But, no, it's "Mysterious MYSTERIES" and hey, a detective solves mysteries. Diluting the purity of our supernatural focus..." He shakes his head. "But anyways! Look! Look at the incredibly hairy man standing at the booth!" Before Dipper can ask the point of this, the teen exclaims loudly, "he's BIGFOOT!" gathering a lot of strange looks from security and the congoers. "See? They've got their people everywhere...or should I say....their MONSTERS!"

The aforementioned hairy man turns around, revealing a bearded face with a wibbling lower lip and an extremely full head of hair. A security guard begins to approach the teen.

"Sir, you're upsetting our patrons. We're-"

"They even have people on the inside." The teen leans close to the two siblings and whispers two words- "constant vigilance"- before straightening up. "Well, nice meeting you two! Dib Membrane's the name, I have a blog, it's pretty great-" By now the guard's firmly grabbed both of Dib's arms.

"You should leave of your own free will for a little while. Calm down and then come back." Her eyes promise terrible pain and Dib shrugs. "Yeah, right. Well, bye, kids."

"Hey! We're young adults!" Mabel objects at the two quickly retreating figures. As the two lose themselves in the large crowd, Mabel turns to Dipper. "Wow, what a weirdo, huh!" she says cheerily. Her brothers face is deathly pale. "Uh, Dipper-"

"No. No way. He can't be Mothman, no-oh-oh way."

"...Dipper?" Mabel asks, reaching out to her brother.

Dipper turns to her with a furious expression. "AGENT MOTHMAN IS BANANAS!" he shouts. "Absolutely NUTS! And this whole time I was talking to him over the Swollen Eyeball Network, and he sounded so- not crazy! And- then- now-" Dipper's gaze turns crazed.

"Mabel," he says quietly, "Dib is a relatively common name. Right?"

Mabel blinks and merely nods. "So maybe that guy wasn't Mothman."

Dipper looks panicked yet infinitely calmer than before.

Mabel merely smiles in terror.

----

"CAAAAAARRRRRR-L!" A blonde man in sunglasses stands in the middle of the eating area, hands cupped to his mouth. Mabel looks over at him with curiosity. "Wow! His hair is so...big!"

As if on cue, the man heads straight for Mabel and Dipper. Dipper groans silently but waits. The man stops and looks down at the siblings. "Hey, little mama and little dude. You seen any string-bean lookin' guys running around?"

At the twins' identical looks of bafflement, he continues. "Big old glasses? Dumb-lookin' clothes? Answers to Carl?"

"Besides that last qualifier, you just described half of the people here," Dipper says. He watches as a look of confusion passes over the man's face.

"Oh. Well, I guess I'll just-" The man turns to leave, only to run into a girl with short red hair and an orange turtleneck. She nearly falls, prevented only by the man's arm. "Whoa, careful there-" The man pauses suddenly and stares at the woman intently from behind his sunglasses. "Whoa, ba-by."

The woman squints and raises her hands up to cover her blushing face. "Sorry- I dropped my glasses..." She withdraws from the man awkwardly. "Can't see without them-" Her face suddenly crumples. The twins watch awkwardly as the man takes hold of the woman's hand gently. His voice has dropped down to a kind whisper.

"Don't worry about it, pretty lady. I'll help you look for 'em." Dipper looks unimpressed.

"What about Carl-" "Johnny Bravo," the man says. He then proceeds to bow. Mabel looks amazed, while Dipper looks disbelieving.

The woman stands, confused, before rushedly speaking. "Oh! Um...Velma. Velma Dinkley." The woman reaches her hand out blindly and Johnny takes it.

After a few moments, Mabel's stomach growls. "We should go eat," says Dipper. Mabel nods, and their brown-topped heads bob off into the crowd, leaving the two congoers staring at each other, the blond man still clutching the woman's hand stupidly.

----

"Well," Mabel chirps, "the Chokey Chicken was pretty good-"

"It is YOUR fault!" a red haired teenager shouts from next to Dipper and Mabel. His vaguely German accent, however, makes the words sound quite different. "Yooooou are the one who decided, oh, we should go to de cooooon, we should see de ELLLLLL-DER GODSSS CLAW MACHINE! And now look!"

The redhead waves a Cthulhu plushie in a taller, dark-haired boy's face. "We have- this thingie, and we are not even supposed to be at this place!"

The taller boy's voice is nasally. "So? It's not my fault! Maybe if you weren't staring at the stupid machine with that stupid look, like you wanted one so bad-"

"This 'ez not my fault, Mandark! You! You won the stuffed thing!" The redhead shoves the plushie into the other's hands- he shoves it right back.

"It's yours, stupid! I don't want it!"

"Then why-

"For you, moron! I know you didn't want to come. And you skipped a lab day at school to come here anyways."

"A poor decision on my part," the redhead sniffs, but he accepts the plushie. "Al-right. Are you sure you can get into the database and make the absence disappear?"

Though the dark-haired teen's face looks perfectly composed, his hand twitches nervously as he wraps his arm around the redhead's shoulders. "Yes, Dexter. Trust me."

The redhead stares at the plushie before relenting with a small smile. "Okay. Maybe if I tell Mom that I stopped by the card shop and bought it-"

"That's the spirit," the taller boy says, and the two drift off into the crowd.

Mabel looks at Dipper with a lost expression. "Do people always get this weird at conventions?"

Dipper shrugs. "This is my first one too, Mabel. Hey-" he points towards a booth with a crudely painted vampire on it. "Wanna get some candy fangs?"

"Would I!"

The twins scamper over to the booth, grinning, unknowing of the pair of eyes resting on the backs of their heads.

"Interesting," a dark figure murmurs, chewing eerily on a pack of gummies shaped like ghosts. "They seem to attract strange things."

The other figure rolls its eyes. "We're at a con. Shut up and enjoy it and stop scoping out potential investigators."

The figure sighs and nods, and two congoers in all-black slink over to the Sherlock booth unnoticed and watch as a hairy man gets his shirt signed by Martin Freeman.

---

END.