“Let’s break into time prison!” says Mabel. “I hear it’s a…riot! Huh? Huh?” Mabel elbows Blendin in the side.

“Listen, Mabel, the Infinitentiary is no joke!” yells Blendin. “I was in that death trap for one thousand years. Or maybe two years. I’m a really bad judge of time. That’s probably why I get fired so often from my time job.”

Dipper and Mabel roll their eyes.

“The bottom line is,” says Blendin, “between the time gangs and the hover rats, we’ve got our work cut out for us here. But Davy Time-Jones is in that prison with our answers, and if we want to get him out, we have to get ourselves in first. Any ideas?”

“Okay,” says Dipper, pacing. “I’ve got a plan. The first thing we have to do is pick out some criminals who are wanted fugitives. We’ll spend a year studying their mannerisms and lifestyles, getting to know them as well as we know ourselves. Then, with the aid of a world-class surgeon and classified military technology, we’ll switch our faces with theirs, go into the prison, and impersonate them. After several months of gaining the inmates’ trust, and proving that we’re dangerous criminals by then, we’ll escape with their secrets. But! When we return to the real world, we’ll discover that the criminals we’ve impersonated have taken our faces, and we may need to have some sort of legendary showdown with them, and there’ll probably be doves. There are always doves.”

Mabel snorts and laughs. “Bro, you’re forgetting what Grunkle Stan says. Getting into prison is easy! Here, watch this!” Mabel spies a policeman walking by and tugs his shirt. “Excuse me, we’d like to confess to time crimes!”

“Which ones?” asks the police officer.

“All of them,” says Mabel. “All of the time crimes.”

“Time larceny?” asks the officer.

“Yup,” says Mabel.

“Clock theft?”

“Yes!”

“Time-icide?”

“Totally!”

“Indecent clock-sposure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Vehicular time-slaughter?”

“That, too!”

“Disorderly chrono-duct?”

“Uhmmm-hmmm!”

“Time forgery?”

“You know it!”

“Time laundering?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Minute trafficking?”

“All day, every day!”

“Future arson?”

“Extra that, please!”

“Time-bezzlement?”

“Totally!”

“Really? Time-bezzlement?” he asks.

“We time-bezzled the whoa out of some people,” she says.

The police officer stares at Mabel, Dipper, and Blendin. “Well, you three are clearly the most ruthless criminals I’ve ever met. Better send you to prison for infinity!” He pulls out his handcuffs.

“Yay!” the three cheer in unison.

The police officer takes the gang to a futuristic police station. He makes them swap their clothes for striped jumpsuits, and the officers take Blendin’s laser blasters, too.

“Oooh! These prison jumpsuits are surprisingly comfortable,” says Mabel, smoothing hers out.

“It’s the future!” says Blendin. “Everything is made of spandex! Clothes, chairs, even celebrities.”

The twins rub their arms to feel the spandex’s softness, oohing and aahing.

“Please stop enjoying your prison clothes,” snaps the guard.

Dipper and Mabel frown.

Moments later, Dipper, Mabel, and Blendin are thrust into the back of a hovering squad car. Within seconds, they’ve passed through the stratosphere and are docking at an enormous space station in the shape of an infinity symbol. A floating sign reads:

THE INFINITENTIARY: YOUR TIME IS UP

“Welcome to the Infinitentiary. First stop: cafeteria.”

A door opens before the trio, and they find themselves face to face with a scene of utter chaos: hundreds of strange convicts, aliens, and rogues are engaged in an all-out food fight. One beats another over the head with a clock, takes his steamed cabbage, and shoves it down a third one’s throat.

“What’s going on?” shouts Dipper.

“Gang fight,” says the guard. “This prison is ruled by two warring gangs. Frankly, I don’t understand why they can’t just get along. Might be the time madness. Anyway, good luck staying alive.” The guard closes the door and seals the air ducts behind them.

The twins and Blendin stare at the melee. A half man, half bird screeches above the room, dumping mustard on a group of toasters in striped pajamas. A large one-eyed human catapults mashed potatoes with a spoon.

Dipper, Mabel, and Blendin back up against the wall.

“Gleeee glor!” screams a chameleon man who is blending in with the wall. “Gleem glop glop!” He pushes the trio away from him and toward the center of the room.

“What do we do?” asks Mabel. She ducks to avoid a wayward pie. “I’m no good in food fights! I always want to eat my weapon!”

“I don’t know!” yells Blendin. “I never joined a gang! I usually hide in the corner and try to blend in with the whitest surface I can find!”

A large bearded and tattooed convict approaches the twins and Blendin. He has an eye patch and a tattoo of a skull and crossbones on his shoulder. He cocks back a bowl of chili to throw at them.

“I’m Davy Time-Jones and I ain’t ever seen you before,” he growls. “What side are you on? Are you a Clock King or a Time Duke?” he asks, wild-eyed. “’Cause depending on your answer, you’re either my sworn brothers or my worst enemies.”

Mabel blurts, “Uh…uh…Blendin knows!”

Blendin blurts, “Uh…uh…Dipper knows!”

Dipper blurts, “Uh…uh…We’re the…”

TIME DUKES: GO HERE CLOCK KINGS: GO HERE