P
poisonbite01
Guest
Original poster
Dipper actually did see the pill, but he thought nothing of it. After all, she could just have a stomach ache from the car ride, a head ache from their bickering, or some other thing he didn't know about and, at that moment, wasn't entirely sure he wanted to ask her about. He was still trying to figure out her statement about happiness.
He was happy. He loved what he was doing, and to him it was worth every scrape, every day without eating, and every trip to the hospital. It was worth the late hours he'd had to spend each night to finish his work, or the early days where he'd log in to get in line on the chat to wait for his turn to speak to one of his teachers. It was worth the frustration and the terror and the sensation that he was only now uncovering a tiny fraction of the mysteries of this world, a sensation that was equal parts horrible to consider and truly incredible.
But...how do you quantify it? Was he more happy than someone else? Was he less? How could someone not be allowed to be happy? Everything he'd experienced had reinforced one important thing: choice. It was up to every person on the planet to make their decisions, there was no guiding light or psychological pattern. There were systems in place, yes, but there was no definitive answer to "What do I do," or "Who am I?"
So the question became...why was Mabel choosing to not be happy...and why did he know that it wasn't that simple?
His musings were interrupted, though, when they finally cleared the trees, and there was the parking lot.
~~~
Business had been good, it seemed. Yes, everything was still old, almost-ramshackle, and appeared to be falling apart, but an artistic mind would notice that it was actually faked. The wear and tear was artificial, painted and sculpted and designed to give the appearance of a creepy building surrounded by foreboding woods. There were around ten cars parked in the parking lot area, most of them with out-of-state license plates, but they recognized Stan's old, beat-up car sitting in a reserved space at the far end of the lot. The golf-carts were still there as well, so everyone should be inside.
With a grin, Dipper pulled into the lot and found a space, making sure to leave enough space on his side for him to get out between the other parked vehicle. Mabel's side was empty, something Dipper had found he liked doing when he had people in his car. Plus, he didn't want to risk them forcing the door open to hard and slamming it into a neighboring car.
"Come on Mabel," he said, locking the doors once she opened hers then stepping out and closing the door behind him. "Lets go see everyone."
He was happy. He loved what he was doing, and to him it was worth every scrape, every day without eating, and every trip to the hospital. It was worth the late hours he'd had to spend each night to finish his work, or the early days where he'd log in to get in line on the chat to wait for his turn to speak to one of his teachers. It was worth the frustration and the terror and the sensation that he was only now uncovering a tiny fraction of the mysteries of this world, a sensation that was equal parts horrible to consider and truly incredible.
But...how do you quantify it? Was he more happy than someone else? Was he less? How could someone not be allowed to be happy? Everything he'd experienced had reinforced one important thing: choice. It was up to every person on the planet to make their decisions, there was no guiding light or psychological pattern. There were systems in place, yes, but there was no definitive answer to "What do I do," or "Who am I?"
So the question became...why was Mabel choosing to not be happy...and why did he know that it wasn't that simple?
His musings were interrupted, though, when they finally cleared the trees, and there was the parking lot.
~~~
Business had been good, it seemed. Yes, everything was still old, almost-ramshackle, and appeared to be falling apart, but an artistic mind would notice that it was actually faked. The wear and tear was artificial, painted and sculpted and designed to give the appearance of a creepy building surrounded by foreboding woods. There were around ten cars parked in the parking lot area, most of them with out-of-state license plates, but they recognized Stan's old, beat-up car sitting in a reserved space at the far end of the lot. The golf-carts were still there as well, so everyone should be inside.
With a grin, Dipper pulled into the lot and found a space, making sure to leave enough space on his side for him to get out between the other parked vehicle. Mabel's side was empty, something Dipper had found he liked doing when he had people in his car. Plus, he didn't want to risk them forcing the door open to hard and slamming it into a neighboring car.
"Come on Mabel," he said, locking the doors once she opened hers then stepping out and closing the door behind him. "Lets go see everyone."