Little Dipper

Debate Prep

"Is this big enough?" Tad asked, coming over with a large sheet of poster paper.

"Yes, thank you." Gideon nodded. "If people aren't going to take the vision seriously, then I'll have to show them what kind of horrors to expect. Mabel, Tad, please help me draw this."

"What can I do?" Dipper asked.

"You can help color." Gideon told him.

"Oo!" Dipper hopped up and down.

"Is it really okay to do this here?" Mabel asked.

"School's out for summer and no one's using the gym for events right now. We're fine." Gideon assured her.

They were in the gym of the high school, art supplies around them ready for use. The large sheet of paper was put down on the floor and taped in place and then they got to work. Their deadline was Friday, the debate, so they had to work fast. Time was ticking quickly.

"Pine Tree?" Bill poked his head inside.

"Bill!" Dipper walked over to him. "You can't peek, it's a surprise!"

"I'm just looking for you." Bill picked him up. "But, now I'm curious."

"No, no! You have to wait! I'm going to distract Bill, okay?" Dipper called over.

"That's fine, thank you." Mabel replied.

"Let's go play!" Dipper looked at Bill.

"Okay, okay." Bill chuckled. "Come on, you can help make buttons with us and then we'll play a game."

"Okay!" Dipper smiled.

They walked away, closing the door behind them. Gideon sighed and used his powers to lock the door and ensure no one else came in on them.

–

The day of the debate, Stan was feeling nervous. All people have been talking about was the election, and for some strange reason Bud was somehow actually doing really well. What if he failed this? What if Bud became the guy in charge of everything? He was honestly afraid of what a guy with such low morals would do to this town.

"Doing okay?" Bill asked, walking up to him. "Your hands are shaking."

"I can't let Bud win..." Stan said nervously. "I just can't. I wish the kids were here, but they're understandably avoiding the whole thing with Gideon, I guess..."

"It's not like children can vote anyway, so they really couldn't make much difference." Preston commented, walking over to him with some folded clothes. "I've had your best suit pressed and ironed. You have to look your very best if you're going to sway Bud's voters."

"Kind of hard to sway the 'bomb the apocalypse' crowd with awesome fashion but okay." Stan took the clothes and went to go get dressed.

"He's right. Most of Bud's voters agree with that sentiment. But I've said it once, I'll say it again: Bombs would do nothing but destroy the town." Bill nodded firmly. "Pyronica and the others would laugh at human stupidity and dance in the flames."

"It does no good if you say it, since they'd see it as political propaganda." Preston shook his head.

"Yeah, which is why I haven't done it." Bill sighed heavily. "It's a tough thing to beat for sure."

Stan came over to them. "Well? How do I look?"

Preston reached over and smoothed out the fabric a bit before fixing his bowtie. "There. Now, where's your fez?" He went over to the hat-rack and paused, seeing two of them in the same color. "...You have two?"

"Ah, no." Stan walked over and took one of them off, showing it to him. "Mabel made this one for Lee. See? Six fingers." He pointed to the symbol on the fez.

"That guy doesn't recognize the good things he's got." Bill said, shaking his head and putting Stan's fez on the man's head. "There. You're ready."

Stan put the other fez back on the hat-rack and nodded. "Let's head out, then."

–

"Do you think I can win?" Bud asked as he served Ford up some eggs and bacon. "I mean, Stan's a pretty popular guy already."

"Well, we'll just have to see. The debate decides everything." Ford said, sitting down to eat. It had been interesting living with Bud. With his wife and son both staying out of the way, Bud had been doing all the cooking – Ford had offered once but, after he tried to cook a large rat that resembled a beast he had eaten in the multiverse before, Bud had given him a pitying look and said "It must've been hard..." before saying he would take over cooking. Ford felt a bit dejected; at least he could've given him a chance to follow a recipe or two.

Naturally, he didn't sleep well knowing Bill was alone. He slipped out at night to spy on Bill, but all he'd seen him do was toss and turn in his sleep crying out until Stan came in and woke him up, followed by him cradling the inter-dimensional creep in his arms. Then Stan had noticed him – or thought he noticed something – and gone over to close the curtains.

Ford had left after that, he couldn't risk being seen spying on Bill. He'd found Bud awake when he got home, but the man had seemed at a loss of what to do with his night. What did he usually do? Ford assumed it was related to his wife. He had tried to get into Gideon's room by both door and window, but it seemed the boy had protected his room against invaders. Shame, he was anxious to know what the boy could be hiding in there.

He'd asked Bud once and Bud had just laughed and said that Gideon was very particular about who entered his room and even his own father couldn't enter unless Gideon was already inside. In fact, it seemed no one could enter unless Gideon was inside, not even his mother. Though, based on the fact she had tried to KILL him before, Ford could understand that part.

But, he could worry about that later. First of all, he had to make sure his brother did not win the debate. Somehow. It was candidates-only, so what could he do?

"Lee? You should finish eatin', we gotta get going." Bud said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Right." Ford nodded, digging into his food.

Bud took his dishes to the sink and then went to go get dressed for the debate. Ford finished eating and then took his dishes to the sink, looking at the dirty dishes. Did he have time to clean them? He glanced at the clock – the debate was in an hour. Maybe they had time?

Bud came out, dressed in an ill-fitting suit. "I don't of'en wear this." He admitted.

"Who's going to care? It's a political debate, not a fashion show." Ford shrugged.

Bud smiled. "Yer right!"