When I watching the opening I saw something run past in the forest, I know what it is in the original so with this one I was like, “Oh! It’s probably some really weird shit! Ima find out what it is!” AND I JUST SPENT THE PAST 15 MIN. PAUSING MY SCREEN TRYING TO GET A PICTURE ONLY TO FIND OUT IT WAS A FUCKING TREE RUNNING THROUGH A FOREST
i turned up with my cap on back to front tryin to be someone I saw on tv once you were sitting by the window looking out for me we were tryin to find a way to say hi that didn’t seem strange but it didn’t work out maybe that was just the way that it felt to me
“Hello, it’s Grunkle Stan, and I have a riddle for you…”
They don’t find out for nearly two weeks. The ocean is vast and mobile service is occasional at best, and while Fiddleford had whipped up some long-distance transmitters he had practically duct taped to their hands, those didn’t survive the run-in with the man-eating mermaids. Or were those the giant time-trapped centipedes from the Carboniferous period? (Eh, we lived.)
It also didn’t help that cosmic adventurer and history’s finest con man aside, they were two old men at heart, with all the technological ineptness that the fact suggested.
(Earth technology, Stanley. Really, it’s more that these… mobile devices are decades and centuries behind what I’m used to than any true lack of understanding of my part -
I’m the one who had to pay for the replacements, Sixer. All four of them that you reduced to fine glass and silicon powder. And - y'know, I’m not even mad, I just wanna know how you didit.)
The first time Stan and Ford went into a main port for the first time in six days, they chalked it all up to coincidence.
The odd looks, mostly at Stan, always after he had said something, weren’t all out of the normal considering that most things he said were loud or strange or casually offensive. The recognition, well. Stan still didn’t remember most of his life, and to be frank, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. And he had traveled the world, yeah? Probably ran into a guy or two - dozen? Hundred? Hell if he knew.
In the end, it all comes to a head in Ensenada about a week afterwards, when Stan orders half a dozen fish tacos in impeccably accented Spanish, and the vendor furrows his brows and asks, “Grunkle Stan?”
“Um,” Stan says. Behind him, Ford reaches for a blaster.
“¿El hombre del telefono, si? ¿Con los acertijos?”