In the middle of the tour, Stan watched on as a man ran into the gift shop holding a large sack over his shoulder. As he panted and hunched over to rest his hands on his knees, Stan swore something in the bag moved on its own volition. "Am I too late for the tour?" asked the man once he'd caught his breath.

"Nah, it's just through that door. You got money to pay for it?"

"I'll do you one better," he replied. He put the sack on the floor. When he opened it, out stumbled a tiny baby goat. "He's yours! Well, I'd best be going. If I wait around here much longer, I'll miss the tour." Then, the man dashed after Ford's group, whom had quickly retreated into another room to supposedly view the first attractions.

The goat hadn't budged from where he'd been placed, and only moved to gnaw on the bottom of Stan's shirt. "Hey!" Stan cried, yanking the fabric out of the goat's mouth. When the goat loudly bleated in response, Stan asked, "Wow, really? Why don't you say that to my face, pal?" With a sigh, he managed to escape the animal with his shirt mostly unscathed. What the heck was he going to do with a goat? Hunt down the owner? Take it to an animal shelter? Were animal shelters for goats even a thing?

This couldn't go on any longer; he had a business to run. To try and deal with the strange encounter, he marched in the direction the man had run off to. He didn't even make it out of the gift shop before his path was halted by Dan blocking his way. He opened his mouth to say something, but Stan first asked, "What?" before the first word got out.

"My friends from the biker joint are coming over on my next break. You in? I don't think you've met them yet, huh?"

Stan's face fell. On any other day, he would've jumped at the chance to meet Dan's probably-awesome friends from a real, live biker joint. On any other day, he didn't have a Shack to operate. If Dan's friends were anything like him, they'd probably be on the rowdy side, Stan reasoned. What if they scared off potential customers, or broke a piece of merchandise? He couldn't let that happen. A bit of success had entered his reach, and he couldn't lose it.

"No! You can't bring them here."

"What? Why not? Mabel always lets me-"

"Because, uh, I made the rules and I say you can't. Mabel's not here, is she? So go man the register or you're not getting a break."

With a spectacular eye roll, Dan stomped back to the register. He sat down in the chair behind it with so much force that it threatened to break. A customer came up to him shortly afterwards, only wavering slightly at Dan's glower. "I'd like to buy this t-shirt for my friend. How much is-"

"At least you get to see your friends!" Dan bellowed across the room, slamming a large hand on the table. The woman flinched and quietly gasped before hustling as far away as she could from him. She replaced the shirt on a random rack and briskly exited the gift shop. Dan's expression softened and his glare faded as he exclaimed, voice still raised, "What? What'd I say?"

Stan stared wistfully at the gift shop door. A potential customer had been lost. No matter. The glass jar still contained a healthy amount of bills. For a moment, he considered giving in and letting Dan's friends come over. That moment didn't last long, for if he went back on what he said once, there was a chance he'd keep doing so until everything about his time as boss fell to pieces. Instead, he held his head high and entered the hallway after the man who'd left the goat behind.

Ford's voice was audible even before Stan opened the door to where the tour was. Shortly after he quietly slipped into the room, he knew something was off. Several tourists were on their phones, while others still had fallen asleep and snored with their mouths opened. Every pair of eyes in the room appeared slightly glazed, with the exception of one. Forget the goat, this was more important.

Ford himself stood in front of his captive audience, talking continuously. Behind him sat a chalkboard, completely covered in complex equations and notes. Even further back, a collection of several pictures and even more notes had been taped to the wall, connected by a red string that had been tacked on.

Picking up the chalk, he began to draw something that slightly resembled the moon in the small space remaining on the board. "Contrary to popular belief, the moon landing was not faked. Nor is the moon made of cheese, for if it was, the extraterrestrial rat colonies would've eaten it by now. However, I have reason to believe that the moon is actually thousands of smaller moons in a giant moon-sized trench coat..." he explained as even more of the audience began to fall asleep.

From the back of the room, Stan motioned Ford to stop talking and come closer to him. He ignored him several times, so Stan's gestures became progressively wilder. By that point, Ford and a few tourists had begun to stare pointedly. "Five-minute break, everyone. When I come back, we'll discuss the likelihood of the world being secretly run by alien pterodactyls," announced Ford to the audience. As several people sighed in relief, Ford pushed his way through the crowd and made it in front of Stan before they both exited into a nearby hallway out of the group's earshot.

"What were you doing in there, bro? I got flashbacks to school in there. Chalkboards should be made illegal in summer."

Ford crossed his arms. "I wanted to try something different; is that so terrible? While I have the chance, I might as well educate this town's population on the real phenomenas around them instead of fake taxidermy projects."

"It's a tour. It was made so people could come here in the summer and get away from education," Stan said as he prepared to enter the other room again. "Why don't I finish the rest of the tour?"

"Wait. There's something else."

"What?"

"The rug. Shouldn't we move it now that we know what it does? It needs further studies and I don't have enough notes on it as is."

Stan crossed his arms. "I thought you wanted to 'teach them about the real phenomenas around here,'" he replied, punctuating the last part of his sentence with air quotes.

Ford sighed. "The rug is different and you know that. I wanted to conduct further personal study on it, and I can't do that if some tourist destroys it. I don't want a perfectly good active specimen ruined. Remember the paint incident this morning? Why don't you just use some of your money from earlier and buy another carpet?"

"Are you kidding? We can't pay to get a new rug! The money we save on this could be the difference between winning and losing the bet!"

"Stan, I don't think-"

"No! We can work with this. I'm thinkin' we set this thing up as an attraction. I've got ideas. You want real attractions, I'll give them a real attraction! All I have to do is put up a velvet rope, and charge five bucks extra, no, twenty bucks extra, and let people swap bodies for a second. It worked on Mabel and I, so they could switch back no problem! They could get the real Gravity Falls experience!" Stan exclaimed, voice raising in volume and intensity with every sentence until he was practically yelling.

"You're being irrational," came the reply. Ford tilted his head upwards a bit, narrowing his eyes.

"Your face is irrational! You're just mad that I'm actually good at something for once."

"You really think I'm-"

"And you know what? You weren't put in charge here, were you? I can keep that rug there all day and you can't stop me," Stan replied, stomping a sneakered foot on the ground.

"So? I'm still running the tour. I can just tell people not to go there."

Stan groaned in response. He finally was good at something and it appeared the entire world was conspiring against him. "No, Ford. You're fired!"

He scoffed. "Really? You're firing me? How mature."

"I can do the tours from now on. I'll make it the most interesting tour you've ever seen and get a ton of cash and win the bet. You'll see!" he called after Ford, who had already began to retreat into the gift shop, presumably to make sure nobody messed up his oh-so-precious specimen. "Wait! Aren't you upset about not getting your paycheck?"

"You weren't paying me anyway. Whatever, I'm an underappreciated genius in my time," replied Ford, walking off with a shrug.

...

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are truly down to the wire in this round of Trivia Masters! Mabel currently has seven thousand dollars and Delilah currently has six thousand and seven hundred dollars. Now, it all comes down to one final question. Whoever answers first and correctly will win ten thousand dollars and take home everything. Whoever loses gets sent home with nothing. The final question...will be revealed after these messages!" the host announced. With that, the cameras momentarily shifted away, no longer hyper-fixing their attentions on the contestants.

The other contestant that stood across from Mabel dropped her gaze to the floor and gripped the front of her podium like a lifeline. "Y'know, I've had a rough time in my life before I came here. Husband left, he got the house, and I've been strapped for cash ever since. Also, my hamster died when I was seven and I've never been the same since! It sure would be nice to have the prize money to get back on my feet," she said. Mabel nodded. Oh, that was so sad! However, she didn't have time to ponder the reasons why she'd chosen to tell her all that. Soon, the commercial break had come to an end.

"Welcome back to Trivia Masters! Now, the final question will be revealed," said the host as a screen behind him changed to display the final question. "Whoever answers this right will get an additional ten thousand dollars and will take home everything. The loser will leave this room in shame. The question is: in what year was the knitting machine invented?"

Mabel knew this. She'd been knitting since forever; the fact had to have come up in one of her instruction books eventually. A simple course of action lay before her: she was to slam the red buzzer in front of her, answer the question, and win the bet easily. Instead, she stood frozen, unable to will herself into doing the simplest task. Did she really deserve this? More than her opponent? So she could fund her endless scams and secrets? While she only took a moment to ponder the topic before motioning to hit the button anyway, that split second was enough time for her opponent to act quickly and press hers first. "It was invented in 1589," the other contestant answered before precisely pursing her lips.

"Correct! Delilah has now taken home the prize!" exclaimed the host. Streamers were dumped from the ceiling as the cameras focused in on Mabel's opponent. Mabel, however, stood off to the side and wanted to leave as soon as possible. Still, it wasn't as if there was much to look forward to besides getting gloated at by a thirteen-year-old. Was she really too much of a pushover?

...

The rest of the weekend slipped by. As the money continued to accumulate, Stan grew more tired by the minute. His black suit was a nightmare to wear in the stuffy Shack. To make things worse, he constantly, breathlessly, had to run back and forth between the tour rooms and the gift shop. Dan still worked the register and Maria still acted as handyman, but Stan took on the brunt of the job himself. He couldn't face the risk that someone else could mess up and lose them more money.

Things remained in some state of calm as Stan ran the shack and tried to ignore Ford's general lack of presence in it since his firing. That calm didn't break until the afternoon of the last day. While Stan was tucked away in another room running a tour, the goat had run off again to some unknown place within the Shack. With his previous owner long gone and all attempts to put him in the front yard ending in him trying to munch on the tourists' shirts, there was nothing else to do except keep him in the Shack where someone could watch him. Too bad nobody had been watching him in that moment.

Dan, carrying a table down from one of the break rooms to put in the Shack, wasn't paying much attention to what was below his feet and crossed the carpet. At the same time, the goat stood on the edge of the carpet, nibbling on one corner of fabric. While Dan was carrying the table, he happened to lightly brush against the goat's coarse fur. With that came an electric shock. To Dan, the world seemed a lot bigger all of a sudden. The goat, in Dan's body, dropped to all fours and loudly bleated.

Dan let out an ear-shatteringly loud scream when he'd realized what had happened, before glancing around quickly to make sure that nobody was in the room to hear him do it. He exclaimed, "I'm never eating meat again!"

Just then, Stan emerged into the room, followed by the latest tour group. "And here we have the electrifying Electron Carpet! If you've ever wanted to live life in someone else's shoes, here's your chance. For a price of only twenty dollars per person."

Stan's eyes grew wide as dinner plates when he took notice of "Dan" lumbering around the room on all fours and making noises that sounded suspiciously like goat bleats. Just as an unruly tourist placed a foot onto the carpet, "Dan" ran into her. With a flash of electricity, they switched. As the tourist began screeching, the goat grew panicked and lunged himself at the rest of the group. Some jumped out of the way, ending up on the carpet, of course. Things got out of hand from there.

People began switching bodies like mad. The entire tour group, as well as the Shack's workers, descended into a state of constantly running amok and haphazardly swapping bodies. Stan himself ended up switching with at least three tourists successively as people jostled into him in their confusion. On the fourth switch, he temporarily breathed a sigh of relief when the body he switched into was the correct frame and height. However, he near-instantly realized he still wasn't in his own body when he looked down to see gloved hands and an aviator jacket. After another flash of electricity, he turned to face his own body.

"Stan! I thought I told you-"

"Ford?"

"Yeah, it's me. Come on, help me out here already!"

Ford smirked. "Why do you want my help? I thought you fired me."

Stan wanted to scream. If Ford wasn't going to help, then he'd have to fix it himself. Meanwhile, the Shack was still in chaos. Terrified screams, punctuated by the occasional goat's bleating, sounded throughout the Shack. The carpet constantly crackled with static electricity as people sprinted across it. A bright glow that characterized a mass body-switching occasionally emanated from the rug. Rubbing his feet on the carpet, Stan tapped Ford on the shoulder and felt the rush of electricity once again.

When he opened his eyes, he was looking at Ford. Stan glanced down to find the black suit and slight frame of his own body. He breathed a sigh of relief. However, it was short-lived when he noticed the glass jar of money lying on the ground. It wasn't broken, but that fact didn't make what he had to do any easier. Every cry of surprise made by any customer in the room registered loudly to Stan's ears, and his chest had begun to grow tight.

Taking a deep breath, he climbed on top of the counter and looked down on the scene. Then, as loudly as he could, he screamed, "Shut up!" He sustained the yell for so long that eventually, everybody froze in their tracks. "You're all scared. I get it. Some of you will probably need therapy after all this. But we need to sort this out right now."

"Why should we listen to you, huh?"

"Yeah, you were the one who showed us such a horrible thing!"

"If I don't get a refund, I'm never coming back. I'll tell all my friends not to come here, too!"

"I know, I know! But once all this is over, I promise I'll refund everybody. Nobody move right now. Maria, where are you?"

What appeared to be a random tourist in a Hawaiian shirt raised her hand. She searched for the person occupying her body before eventually finding him. With a rub of sneakers on the carpet and a handshake, they returned back to normal. Two down, a lot more to go. Stan aided the other tourists in catching on, ordering them to calmly call out their names and switch back into their own bodies. The Shack returned to a slightly-less-chaotic state as the situation fell under control. When Dan switched back into his own body, he remarked, "Yeah, I'm gonna take back what I said about never eating meat again. I could never give up bacon."

Then, the line began. The tour group lined up expectantly in front of Stan, some still directing pinched glares at him or quivering slightly at the traumatic incident that had just taken place. Stan reached into the jar of money and handed a few bills to a tourist, followed by the next, and the next. By the time the last tourist had taken the refund and walked out the door as quickly as they could, the jar was empty. "This was the last day. My last chance," Stan mused as he stared straight through the empty glass. For a moment, he wondered if it would've been better to simply take the money jar and run far away from all the chaos. Probably not. The damage to the Shack's reputation wouldn't be worth it.

Shortly afterwards, a familiar pink car pulled into the driveway and braked with a screech. Stan braced himself at the sound of footsteps echoing up the path to the Shack. Whatever Mabel did over vacation was bound to have made more money than he did. When Mabel swung open the door and burst inside, Stan couldn't help but stare at the floor with a slight grimace. The inevitable question from her arrived right on schedule. "So! How'd it go?"

Motioning to the empty jar, Stan mumbled, "Just fantastic."/p

"I can't believe it," Mabel replied. "Guess I won, then."

Stan sighed in resignation. "How much did you make?"

Mabel pulled a single one-dollar bill that she'd previously found in the vent from her pocket. "I didn't do very well, either. I lost the rest of the money I made because, yes, I should be firmer in my choices than I actually am sometimes. But one dollar is more than nothing, so I still win! Hand it over, buddy."

Stan pulled the fez off his head and returned it to Mabel without a second thought. "You can keep it. I've got other stuff I want to do this summer besides run this joint." He paused, a realization hitting him. "Some weirdo gave me a goat and I still have him! Wouldn't the goat be worth more than that dollar?"

"Well, where is this magic mystery goat?" Mabel asked with a chuckle.

Stan lifted a finger to signal her to wait a moment before spinning around to check the room for the goat. He then ran out of the gift shop to search in the attic and tour rooms. After a minute of fruitless searching, he returned. The goat was nowhere in sight, and had probably run off during the chaos. "Aw, man! I almost got out of having to do that stupid dance, too."

Mabel grinned. "I wasn't thinking of that, but now that you mention it, I did say you'd have to do a dance, didn't I?"

"What? No, you didn't. There's no dancing here. This is a dance-free zone. What's a dance?"

"I don't know, I thought I heard you agree to make this bet with me..."

Stan sighed. "Ugh, I guess I'll have to get this over with."

...

Ford had set up a camera to record this, because of course he did. Mabel, Dan, and Maria were all there as well, having set up lawn chairs in the Shack's front yard. Twisting a knob on the side of the camera, Ford focused in on Stan, whose expression slightly resembled that of a dog who'd been forced into some awful costume for the holiday cards. As he stood in front of a slapdash painted background, he sang off-key, "I'm Stan and I was wrong. I'm singing the Stan Wrong Song. I shouldn't have taken that chance, now here's my remorseful dance..."

"Do the kick!" exclaimed Mabel. In response, Stan's glare deepened. He lifted a foot off the ground in the tiniest of kicks, deliberately putting in as little effort as possible. "Jazzier!" Still, there was no change.

When he heard a rustling in a nearby bush, he paused where he was, eternally grateful for any sort of distraction. Before he took so much as a step forward, the goat jumped out of the bush, munching leaves. "Oh, now you show up. Are you serious? Where were you a few minutes ago?" The goat gave no response except to run to Stan's side and begin to nibble on the hem of his shirt.

"I really thought you were kidding about the goat thing," remarked Mabel from her seat.

"I mean, it's a little late now," said Stan. Turning to the goat, he continued, "You are the most stubborn, annoying, and troublemaking animal I have ever seen. You know what? I can relate to that. I'm gonna name you Gompers."

"As cute as this is, you're not getting out of it that easily. Why don't you try the song one more time? Three, two, one, take it from the top!"

HFNNVI'H Z JFZIGVI LU GSV DZB LEVI. SRTS GRNV ULI Z XRKSVI HDRGXS, RHM'G RG?