“Guys, I think it’s time to clean up this old-timey town,” says Dipper.

With a smug smile, Dipper approaches the swinging double doors of the saloon and throws them open.

A hush falls over the honky-tonk.

“My name’s Pioneer Pines,” he says, “and I’m looking for—”

SMACK!

The swinging doors rebound and collide with Dipper’s back, causing him to stumble. He reaches for something to steady himself, but his hand finds only a tablecloth. He pulls it to the ground and sarsaparilla bottles fall like dominoes around the bar until…

CRASH!

One shatters in the lap of a hulking monstrous bandit, who stops chewing his gum and slowly rises to his feet. His enormous belt buckle has an inscription reading WILD EYES JOE and a smaller cursive subheading reading THE MOST FEARED OUTLAW IN THE LAND. The room freezes with anticipation.

“Sorry!” squeaks out Dipper in his prepubescent kitten voice.

Wild Eyes Joe struts across the saloon and grabs Dipper by the collar. “These are my favorite chaps you just spilled on,” he says, his wild eyes bulging from their sockets. “What manner o’ fella comes in a place like this and spills sarsaparilla on a man’s chaps?”

Dipper stammers incoherently. “We’re looking for a—a—”

“Are you an outlaw?” says Wild Eyes Joe. “Some kinda law? Or just an idiot? ’Cause I don’t take kindly to none of those,” he snarls.

Dipper nearly faints from the smell of Wild Eyes Joe’s breath.

“You better start explainin’, or I’m gonna have a little conversation with my friend the undertaker!” says Wild Eyes Joe.

“Oooh! What about?” asks Mabel with a smile.

“ABOUT KILLING YOU!” he says.

Mabel gasps.

Dipper looks around.

There’s an empty stage.

Maybe I could lie and tell him we’re the new saloon entertainment, he thinks.

There’s also an empty seat at the card table.

Or maybe I could play it cool and pretend I’m here for the game.

Either way, YOU better decide NOW!

SAY THEY’RE THE NEW ENTERTAINMENT: GO HERE SAY THEY’RE HERE TO PLAY CARDS: GO HERE