Adorable Like a Werekitten, Part 4

   With a bang, the doors of the Gravity Falls Post Office burst open. "Alright, dudes!" Soos roared like a giant hamster. "I wanna know where the Mailman is, and I'm not leaving 'til I get some answers!"
   Behind the counter, a veteran mailwoman put down some stamps and looked up. Pushing her glassed back onto her wrinkled nose, she wheezed, "Eh? Would that be Mr. Lycanthrope?"
   "Is he the Mailman?"
   "Well, he's the mailman who handles delivery, young man."
   "Then I want him!" Soos roared again.
   "I'm afraid I can't say where he is."
   "Can't say? Or won't say?!" Soos challenged her. "Don't toy with me, dude! I've got a silver-colored tape measure, and I'm not afraid to use it!" And he snapped it threateningly at her.
   "But he hasn't been in all day. It's actually quite unusual, and the whole office is worried."
   "Oh . . . Uh, have you checked the dude's house?" Soos suggested.
   "None of us know where he lives," the old mailwoman replied. "He delivers his own mail."
   Soos mulled that over for a minute. "In that case, I want to buy some stamps."
   "Patriotic roll, or a novelty roll?"
   "Patriotic would be fine, thanks. Then I want directions to the nearest shop where I can buy a slingshot, some silver, and some stakeout supplies."
   "Might I suggest across the street?"
   Soos looked. Steve's Shanty of Surveillance, Silver, and Slingshots (est. 1863).
   "That'll do."
   And, shortly after entering the oldest and proudest shop in Gravity Falls, Soos reemerged with sunglasses and a newspaper. Sitting at a bench, he pretended to read while watching the Post Office.
****
   "Alright, first we're gonna want some yarn grenades," Mabel affirmed.
   "Meabel, that's just a ball of string," Dipper said impatiently.
   "It's a distractionary weapon."
   "Neo, it's neot. It's just string."
   "It distracted you," Mabel reminded her brother. "And you're a werecat."
   Dipper sighed. "This is ridiculous."
   "Really? Look at the yarn, Dipper!" she sang as she waved it in his face. "Look at it!"
   "Stop that."
   "You'd better grab it before it gets away!"
   "Stop it, Meabel."
   "Ooo . . . It's getting away now . . ."
   "Meabel, just stop it."
   "Almost too late! You'd better—"
   Glomf! Dipper sank his teeth into the yarn.
   "See?" she said with a smug giggle. "Okay, so I've got one yarn grenade in each pocket, and one up each sleeve . . . Now I just need to find my . . . Hmm, where is it?"
   Norman, after digging under Dipper's bed, asked, "How about this supersoaker I found?"
   Dipper's eyes widened at the sight of it. "Okay, as a werecat, I can definitely say that's the meost terrifying weapon ever. That, or a Newfoundland."
   "Newfoundland?" Norman repeated, puzzled. "You mean like . . . the Canadian breed of dog?"
   "The huge, shaggy Canadian breed of dog!" Dipper burst out. "I mean, why would yeou breed something like that if neot to hunt werecats?!"
   "Oookay . . . Do you know where . . . we could find a Newfoundland?" Norman asked slowly. "Because otherwise, I'm gonna stick with the supersoaker."
   "Found it! My GRAPPLING HOOK!" Mabel exalted, holding it on high. "This is like the ultimate weapon. Think about it, guys: on all the Zelda games, once you have the grappling hook, you've practically won the game!"
   "In fairness, that's true. And it's gotta be meore useful than a ball of string," Dipper declared. "Speaking of which, meay I see one? Purely for research purposes, yeou understand."
   Mabel produced one.
   Dipper examined it. Then he sank his teeth into it. "Le'th go, guyth!"
****
   The sun crept westward.
   At four, Toby Determined released the evening edition of The Gossiper. The banner headline read: Ham Sandwiches with Kraft Real Mayo Come to Gravity Falls, Stolen by Bigfoot. It included multiple accounts of seven different sightings, with pictures, and a poll on favorite sandwich condiments. After mayonnaise, tomatoes were the favorite, followed closely by lettuce.
   At five, the Post Office closed. The Mailman hadn't come. In defeat, Soos set a course for the Mystery Shack, wondering what he was going to do about the infected and surely dangerous Dipper.
   At five ten, a butler entered the lounge of the swankiest hotel in Gravity Falls. He presented a copy of The Gossiper to his employer on a silver platter. The Honorable Safarington Pithelmet was so surprised at the headline that his monocle popped right out. He then rose and addressed his circle of khaki-clad, mustachioed, and bemonocled peers. "MmmGentlemen, we have hunted most every species of bear imaginable, as well as regular lions, mountain lions, and the Detroit Lions. MmmI thought we had found worthy sport on all seven continents. MmmBut I was wrong. MmmWe have not yet hunted the most elusive game of all, so I propose on the morrow we set our sights, not on a multibear, but on Magnus Pede—the creature that the locals call 'the Bigfoot'. MmmAll in favor: fire your rifles in the air." By the rain of plaster that followed, it was obvious that they were unanimous. They toasted a successful hunt with goblets of the finest Kraft Real Mayo, and guffawed until bedtime.
   At five fifteen, Wendy closed up shop. She thought it was a little strange that everyone else had disappeared all day, but the Shack was all about strange. Her friends swung by, and she left with them.
   At five twenty, Soos finally arrived. Despairing, he made himself some ramen, found a book about werewolves in the shop (Where wolf? There wolf! by Marty Feldman), ate his ramen, and then fell asleep while reading the book. Stakeouts are exhausting, after all.
   At six, Stan loped into the Shack. It was a relief to remove the costume, and he celebrated with a can of non-diet Pitt and a shower (both of which were a rare occurrence for him). He then decided to order a pizza, and called out, "Hey, kids! What toppings do you want?!" When he received no answer, he surmised, "So we're all good with half pepperoni and olives, half anchovies and olives?! Alright then!"
   At six thirty, the sun began to set. The woods were darkening, and the kids were all exhausted, but had nothing to show for it but blisters. They had gone to the base of Mount Immovable three times, yet found no trace of the Werecat nor of 3.
   Mabel summed it up succinctly as they turned home, "That sucked . . ."
   "Yeah . . ." Dipper concurred despondently.
   After a while, Norman announced, "When we get back, I'll phone my parents—let them know I'm sleeping over . . . Then we can start again early tomorrow . . ."
   "Yeah, great . . ." Dipper mumbled.
   "I'm sure we'll find it tomorrow," Norman said, trying to cheer Dipper up. "And it will have the cure and everything."
   "Yeah, sure . . ." Dipper responded vaguely. "And here we are back at the river . . . Joy . . ."
   "C'mon, we've already crossed it a bunch of times," Norman reminded him. "It's not that hard."
   "I'm a cat neow," Dipper reminded him. "Just the thought of water . . . Yeowck!"
   "Stone to stone!" Mabel sang, brightening up a little. "Just jump, jump, jump! This should be easy for you with a tail!"
   They all managed to get across, though Dipper did so very stiffly. At one point, his hand was splashed, and he shook it off vigorously and with evident disgust.
   Norman laughed, then so did Mabel. Eventually, Dipper did too.
   "Felling better?" Norman asked consolingly.
   "Yeou know . . . I kinda am. Meaybe it's knowing that we're going home, or that we don't have to cross the river any meore, or relief that we haven't seen the Werecat—"
   "Or maybe it's these pretty purple flowers!" Mabel interjected, seizing two handfuls of them.
   Rolling his enormous, glinting, yellow eyes, Dipper replied sarcastically, "Yes, Meabel or meaybe it's all the pretty purple flowers . . . which . . . admeittedly smell really nice . . ." He leaned in, burying his face in them, and inhaled deeply. "Rrrealy nice . . ."
   Norman took them from Mabel (who was only too glad to pass them and her brother off) and examined them closely. "Hey, I recognize this plant. My grandma had it all over the place. It's catnip."
   "C-catnip?" Dipper's eyes zeroed in on it with fully dilated pupils.
   "Y-yeah . . ." Norman stammered, suddenly realizing what that meant.
   GLOMPF! Dipper took it all in one, fanged mouthful.
   "D-Dipper! I don't think that was a g-good idea!" Norman stammered. "In fact, I'm pretty sure that was the worst idea you've ever had in a long series of bad ideas!"
   But Dipper wasn't listening. He was shivering all over.  "This stuff . . . is DELCIOUS!" he suddenly yowled throatily. "So good, I wanna RUB IT ALL OVER MEY BODY! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Gabbing nonsense happily, he plunged into the flowers and rolled back and forth through them. Then he started making angels in them, still laughing. Norman and Mabel tried to remove him bodily from the catnip, but he pulled out of their grip only to plow back in every time. Eventually, they decided just to wait him out. Soon his rolling became sluggish, then he lay there giggling and purring. "Yeou guys seriously gotta try this stuff . . . It's the best . . . I can't feel mey anything . . . I'll prove it! Rub mey belly! "
   Somewhat discomfited by that proposition, Norman asked, "Uh . . . c-can you stand up?"
   "Hehehehe . . . Yeou said 'stand' . . ." Dipper giggled.
   "Oh boy . . . I think I gotta carry him," Norman realized heavily. "Can you take the supersoaker?"
   "We could just squirt him," Mabel suggested.
   "Hehehe . . . Squirt! Classic!" And then Dipper yawned cavernously.
   Handing the supersoaker to Mabel, Norman replied, "I don't think that'd help. C'mon, buddy," he said to Dipper, seizing an arm and then slinging him piggyback.
   "Wheeeow! Ha . . . Like 'meow' . . ." Dipper laughed and mewed and yawned all at once.
   "You're nuts . . ." Norman grunted as he heaved himself forward.
   "Hehe . . . Yeah . . . I dunno why yeou guys even put up with meow . . . Hehe . . ."
   Mabel shook her head. "I'm not all that sure right now either."
   "Neaw . . . neaw, I mean . . . even normeally . . . Don't know . . . what I'd do without you guys . . . I love you guys! Hehehe . . . Love you, Meabel . . ."
   "I love you, too. You dip dippy Dipstick-Dipper," she said, exasperated but sincere.
   "Love you, Norrrmeon . . ." And he sloppily kissed Norman's cheek.
   Surprised, Norman went scarlet and almost fell over sideways. He hoped it was too dark for anyone to notice.
   "Said . . . I love you, Norrrmeon!" Dipper repeated, insistent if increasingly lethargic.
   Breathlessly, Norman croaked back, "L-love you, too . . . Dipper . . ."
   "Don't know . . . why yeou do . . ." Dipper went on, sleepily nestling against his friend's back. "Mmm pushy 'n' high-string—strung, wh'ever . . . Neo fun, n'like Meabel . . . Thoughtless . . . n'like yeou, thoughtful I mean . . . Yeou're so warrrm . . ." And, really purring, he laid his chin on Norman's shoulder and rubbed his face against Norman's crimson cheek. He was asleep seconds later.
   "Well . . . That happened," Mabel said after a minute. "Awkward, huh?"
   "Y-yeah . . . awkward . . ." Norman panted, though he was smiling to himself in the dark.
   A few minutes later—a little after seven—the Shack came into sight.
   "I'll distract Gruncle Stan," Mabel whispered conspiratorially. "You get Dipper into bed."
   "S-sure thing . . ." Norman said, now too red from exertion to blush any further.
   And then Mabel skipped into the living room, lilting, "Hi, Gruncle Stan!"
   "Wha! Change channel! Change channel!" Stan hissed to himself. "To . . . this football game! Yes, I was watching a football game."
   "We're back from doing innocent kid things! Teehee! The boys already went upstairs, and Norman is sleeping over!"
   While struggling up the stairs, Norman heard the answer. "My shock, it is great. Hi, Paintbrush!"
   "H-hi!" Norman shouted back.
   "Hey, Dipping Sauce!"
   Starting awake suddenly, Dipper flailed forward and shouted, "Onwards, Meowshima!"
   "Grah!" Thump!
   Stan glanced towards the stairs quizzically, then at Mabel. She was beaming innocently at him. "So . . . tell me, Mabel Syrup, you kids have fun doing . . . whatever?"
   "Always! And you? That's swell! Goodnight, Gruncle Stan!" And she kissed his stubbly cheek.
   "Oookay . . . Here's some pizza to take up."
   "Thank you, Gruncle Stan!" While lifting the lid to look inside, she asked, "So what's on—Buh! What are these fish things?! How . . . perfect . . . Purrrfect, hehehe! Thanks!" And with that, she tore up after the others.
   Stan sipped from his beverage. "So . . . business as unusual—Ha!—with those little gremlins . . ." he surmised as he furtively changed channels back to the Black-and-White-Period-Piece-Old-Lady-Boring-Movie-Channel. Tonight's feature was Of Viscounts and Barons.
   After heaving Dipper onto his bed, Norman collapsed onto the floor. Breathing hard, he checked his phone for the first time all day. 5 missed calls. "Dang . . ."
   Then Mabel burst in, chorusing, "We've got PIZZA! There's peperoni and olives for you and me, Norman, and there's anchoives or whatever these weird fish things are for Dipper!"
   Dipper's head lolled around, and he blinked sleepily at her. "Fish things?"
   "Cool . . ." Norman gasped.
   "Now let's put the mattresses together on the floor!"
   "In a minute . . . I probably need to . . . call my parents now . . ."
   "Oooo, yeah . . . I'll just sit here quietly and eat while you do that . . . Here's one for you, Dipper. I bet I can fit this entire piece in my mouth, but you can't!"
   Norman pressed redial, calling his house. After a moment, the call connected. To his disappointment, it was a man's voice that answered. "Hello?"
   "H-hi, Dad. It's me."
   "Norman? Where have you been all day? I've been trying to call for hours."
   "I know. S-sorry. We were in the woods, and the reception's b-bad in there."
   "Reception's bad in there . . ." his father sighed. "We were waiting for you, you know? Worried."
   "D-didn't mean to make you worry," Norman said, ashamed. "We were just . . . having fun, and didn't realize how late it was. Can I . . . can I stay over here for the night?"
   "You're not going to freak them out with your talking to ghosts are you?"
   "N-no, Dad," Norman promised meekly. Sadly.
   "Wait, it's those Pines kids, right? I guess that wouldn't freak them out, would it?"
   Somewhat more defiant now, Norman answered, "No, Dad. They're not freaked out by me."
   "Well, good . . . I guess. Don't stay up too late, and call us in the morning. Night, Norman."
   ". . . Night, Dad," he said at last, and then hung up. Turning heavily, he began, "I can stay—"
   And then a ball of yarn hit him in the mouth. "YARN GRENADE FIGHT!" Mabel bellowed.
   "No fair! You've got all the yarn!" Norman shouted back.
   She threw one at Dipper, who watched it bounce off his face impassively, and then another at Norman. "That's what you get for not recognizing an arms race when it's staring you in the face!"
   "Yarns race!" Norman retorted.
   And when Mabel shouted, "Exactly!" he dove for the supersoaker.
   "W-water!" Dipper startled, dodging behind the bed. "Hisss! I call neo water! Neo water!"