"Come on, Mabel. We're thirteen. Why are we going to some kid place for our birthday?" Dipper whined.
"Because Mom said it's my year to choose where we go, and you said no more Pretty Princess Palace," Mabel answered her twin in a matter of fact manner.
He groaned rather loud. Though he wasn't interested in yet another year of pastel pink pedicures and colorful curls in his hair, the idea of children screeching and singing along with annoying animatronics was giving him a pounding headache already.
"Well, we could just not have a party. No one is coming to watch some lame bear." He kicked a rock in his way. "Not even Mom and Dad are showing up."
Sadly, this was true. Mr. and Mrs. Pines had jobs that weren't easy to get time off for. The best they could do was drop them off at the pizzeria and give them some cash.
Dipper picked up a tree branch and stabbed at an ant bed, watching as the tiny insects scurried.
"What's taking so long?" Mabel complained. "I wanna go already."
"Why are you in such a rush to spend our first day as teens surrounded by five-year-olds high on sugar?"
"Because I like actual socialization unlike you," she snapped back. His boohoo-ing was beginning to get on her nerves. Though she was usually the cheery one of the group, she wasn't quite pleased with his crying over how unsatisfied he is with her choice. The year before, she went to the library, of all places, because that's where he wanted to spend their twelfth birthday, and she hadn't said a word (mainly because the librarian kept shushing her). But God forbid Mabel have fun just this once.
"Come on, kids," Mrs. Pines called, leaving the house and heading to the car. "Let's go to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria."