P
poisonbite01
Guest
Original poster
Dipper leaned against the hood of his little volkswagon bus. It was a worn down, ugly brown color, but it was his ride and his home through college. The 22 year old checked his watch then, getting an eye for the time. Mabel was supposed to arrive any minute now. They were going to drive the last few miles together, and had coordinated this through e-mail a few days ago.
The youth scratched his chin lightly, fingering the touch of stubble that had started to form on his chin, then fingered one of the tattoos peaking up out of the color of his shirt. It was a small hand of the Gremgoblin from years ago, copied out of Journal about two years ago. He'd taken to tattooing the pictures and names of things he'd faced somewhere on his body, usually to hide a scar he received from the creature. He'd run into another of the creatures in some woods out in Kansas, and had gotten a cracked collarbone while driving the creature away and back into hiding.
Man, he had a lot to tell Mabel when they finally met up again. He hadn't seen her since she'd left for college. He should have come and visit, but he'd been traveling so much while he went to an online college, balancing school-work and running a monster-and-paranormal-event-handling business. It wasn't great pay, but it paid for his gas, food, internet, and car tune-ups. Gruncle Stan had paid his tuition and bought all his books, so he hadn't had to worry about that.
It hadn't been easy, but he'd finally made it, and he had a degree in Cultural Anthropology, minoring in Religious Studies. Now he could charge more for his services and could, eventually, publish his findings involving crypto-zoological creatures and paranormal phenomena. His encounters with Bill were enough to write an entire Thesis on, for Pete's sake.
He checked his watch again, double-checked his warn vest and cap (Stan had sent him a new one when he'd told him he'd lost it hunting), and let out a sigh...
The youth scratched his chin lightly, fingering the touch of stubble that had started to form on his chin, then fingered one of the tattoos peaking up out of the color of his shirt. It was a small hand of the Gremgoblin from years ago, copied out of Journal about two years ago. He'd taken to tattooing the pictures and names of things he'd faced somewhere on his body, usually to hide a scar he received from the creature. He'd run into another of the creatures in some woods out in Kansas, and had gotten a cracked collarbone while driving the creature away and back into hiding.
Man, he had a lot to tell Mabel when they finally met up again. He hadn't seen her since she'd left for college. He should have come and visit, but he'd been traveling so much while he went to an online college, balancing school-work and running a monster-and-paranormal-event-handling business. It wasn't great pay, but it paid for his gas, food, internet, and car tune-ups. Gruncle Stan had paid his tuition and bought all his books, so he hadn't had to worry about that.
It hadn't been easy, but he'd finally made it, and he had a degree in Cultural Anthropology, minoring in Religious Studies. Now he could charge more for his services and could, eventually, publish his findings involving crypto-zoological creatures and paranormal phenomena. His encounters with Bill were enough to write an entire Thesis on, for Pete's sake.
He checked his watch again, double-checked his warn vest and cap (Stan had sent him a new one when he'd told him he'd lost it hunting), and let out a sigh...