Another day, another long, futile attempt at cleaning up the basement.

It seemed like no matter how much of the piles of metal Ford dismantled and got rid of, there was still more waiting for him. At least today, though, he had a helper.

Dipper, in exchange for another game of D, D & D, was helping arrange the scraps and tattered remains of the portal into piles of "definitely need to throw out," "might come in handy later," and "I will for sure use this one day" (Ford had come up with the names himself). He had promised to stay away from anything Ford thought was too dangerous, and after half an hour they had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of sweeping, carrying and discarding.

Then, as Ford checked in a fresh corner of the room, he jumped back with a startled yell.

"AAAH! Stanley! How did you get-!"

A second later he realized that he was not talking to his actual brother-just a wax statue of him, standing there grinning and giving him a thumbs up.

As his initial-not fright, don't be ridiculous, just alarm-faded, Ford gave the statue a baleful glare.

Yet another testament of his brother's insufferable vanity.

Then Dipper said behind him, "Oh, here's where Wax Stan went."

Ford looked down with a raised eyebrow.

"Mabel made him herself," he said with a proud smile. "Pretty good, huh?"

Ford turned his head back towards the statue, and was forced to acknowledge, "Yes...she's quite the sculptor." Very good, in fact.

Dipper nodded. "I guess Grunkle Stan put him down here because at one point it got so hot that he started melting. Didn't want him dying twice."

"...Excuse me?"

It took a moment for Dipper to realize what he'd said; he blushed. "Uh, heh, it's nothing-just, um, there used to be a whole bunch of wax figures in this one hidden room, who we found out came to life when the moon was waxing…"

Dipper explained the whole 'wax statues' incident.

"...and Grunkle Stan ran out crying in the middle of the funeral-" At that moment he finally seemed to remember who he was talking to, and coughed awkwardly into his fist. "Um. And then the statues came to life and told us their plan, and Mabel and I had to fight them to the death by melting them."

He avoided Ford's eyes, examining the statue again. "I wonder if this guy's ever come to life, or if the curse or whatever didn't affect him 'cause he got recreated by Mabel."

"An interesting idea," Ford mused.

"I, uh, I'll go back to cleaning." Seconds later the boy was gone.

Ford stared at the statue, who grinned back at him.

"Don't look at me like that!" he finally snapped, and then turned away in annoyance.

No. No, I am not going to start talking to a wax statue of my brother. I am not that ridiculous.

The fact that he treated it like a substitute me changes nothing-he still ruined my life and put the whole world in danger just to get me back-

He growled, and left the room so he could get back to work too.

For a moment, the wax eyes might have flickered with a hint of sadness.

Of course, that could have just been a trick of the light...

I figure Stan wanted some company down in the basement while he was working. And it's easier to protect him.

...Great, now I've started anthropomorphizing Wax Stan too.