Nobody Forgets Bill Cipher

The Boundaries of Insanity

     Mabel and I head back to the Mystery Shack and we're greeted by the transformation of the living room into a birthday party palooza as soon as we step through the door. A birthday banner hangs from wall to wall, adorned with multicolored streamers.     The store-bought cake is set on the table underneath, countless unlit candles stuck on the top. Bags of potato chips and platters of fruits and veggies surround the cake.
     "Wow," is my simple reaction to the party they've set up.
     "Wow?" Dipper echoes with a slightly sarcastic tone edging his voice. "Seriously? I mean, I know you've seen better, but come on, man!"
     "No, I just..." trying to correct my seemingly ungrateful attitude. In actuality, I'm impressed and even honored that they spent all the time planning this. "I'm speechless, that's all. I wasn't expecting any of this! Sorry if I don't react right. I'm still learning correct human responses to different situations."
     "That's okay, we know," Mabel tells me with a smile. "You still need a lot of practice, and you've got a lot to learn. Hey, everyone, watch this!" Oh no, what is she planning? "Okay, Bill, I want you to answer this truthfully. Yule taught him this one. What do you say when someone tells you, 'My bad'?"
     "'You're darn right it was.'" I answer honestly. Yule immediately doubles over with laughter, and the others in the room join in. "You've got to be kidding me," I say, completely deadpan. "That wasn't even true?"
     "In Gravity Falls, there's no one you can trust," Yule tells me matter-of-factly, quoting the photocopied journal three that he read through.
"Ouch," I remark coldly, but still in a joking manner. "That cut, Yule."
"You're darn right it did!" He busts out laughing again, though it seems he's getting more of a kick out of the joke than everyone else is.
The rest of the evening is full of games, food, gifts, and lighthearted banter. But, as all parties must eventually, the evening of fun ends. People wish me a happy birthday as they leave, and soon enough, it's just me, the Ramirezes, and now, the Pineses.
Not long after the last guest leaves, Ford pulls me aside and tells me, "I hate to end a good time, but we need to talk somewhere private."
     The two of us move to a room with no other people. He sits me down and demands I tell him everything about my experience meeting with the Society of the All-Seeing. I tell him everything, not leaving a single detail out. Well, that is, apart from leaving out the part about the uneasiness I felt around that unsettling girl, Sil.
     Ford is silent for a minute after I finish speaking. "Bill," he finally says, "if it ever came to be so, would you be willing to die for those put in danger alongside you? What I mean is, your henchmaniacs will target this family and your friends, just for being acquainted with you. Would you die to satisfy them in order to protect the rest of us?"
     "I would," I reply.
     "And your henchmaniacs... would they still have interest in killing us after you were dead?"
     "Yes," I answer solemnly, "insanity knows no bounds."
     "Then how do we stop them?"
     "Well, they're minor dream demons. They shouldn't be able to access this world without an inter-dimensional tear."
     "So, you're saying... they could cause another Weirdmageddon?"
"No... not exactly. They just aren't that powerful. They're minor dream demons. Actually, that fact in itself can kind of let them squeeze around rules. Rifts aren't the only things that can have tears. There are temporary inter-dimensional tears called quaflies, at least, that's what we called them in my home dimension. Quaflies are random tears that can open up literally anywhere at any time. Chances that one would open up here any time soon are next to nothing, but..." I trail off in thought.
"But?" Ford questions me.
"There are these beings called quafliers. You may or may not have come across one before. Though quaflies are naturally random, quafliers have partial control over their timing and location. But these creatures are awfully stubborn. I myself was never able to convince one to open a quafly for me."
"So are you suggesting that your henchmaniacs could have access to a quafly through the persuasion of one of these beings?"
"Yes, I am. There's absolutely no other way they could enter this world. They must really hate me to go through all that trouble, though. And how does the Society of the All Seeing even know what's going on with my henchmaniacs in an entirely different dimension?"
"They have mysterious ways, Bill. I would never expect them to disclose any of their methods," Ford answers me.
I burn my face in my hands. "Oh, Stanford, what are we going to do? I couldn't live with myself if any of you got hurt because of me."
"Don't convince yourself that this is your fault, Bill," Ford tries to assure me. "Now, it's no one's fault but the henchmaniacs."
"Don't lie, Sixer. You know just as well as I do that that isn't true."
Stanford doesn't answer that; he stares off into oblivion. He sighs and tells me, "There isn't anything we can do now but trust that the Society of the All-Seeing will be able to handle the situation on their own."
"Ughhhhh," I groan, my forehead now pressing on the table. "Why is life so stressfulllllllll? I hate all of this."
Ford gets up and leaves the room without another word. Mabel must have been waiting for one of us to leave, because a few moments later, she pops through the doorway. I lift my head a bit to look at her, then thump it back down on the table again.
"Oh, don't do that," Mabel chides me gently. "You'll hurt yourself."
"I've messed up enough already," I groan in utter annoyance at my situation. "What does it matter if I dent my forehead in the process?"
"Aww, don't say that." She sits down in the chair next to mine. "I don't know what you guys talked about, but should I be aware of any of it? I don't want to pound you for information or anything, but..."
"I'll tell you soon, Mabel. It's important that you know all this, but right now... my stars, I just wanna go to sleep and not think about any of this."
"That's fine," Mabel tells me, pecking a kiss on my now red forehead. "I'll see you in the morning. Good night, love."
"Sleep well, Shooting Star."