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"I'm on top of the world!" the boy who wasn't Dipper exclaimed, standing atop a very precarious pile of stock boxes.
"Kid, I'm gonna have to ask you to get down," Bill sighed. "Who even are you, huh?"
The boy cackled, then. "Hey, you should recognise yourself when you see you!"
"So that's how it is..." Bill sighed, "Birch Tree."
"Oh, come on!" Bipper complained, "You won't even call you by your own name?!"
"Yeah, well," Bill scoffed, "I'm me. What you are is Pine Tree's memories of me. I don't have to call you anything."
Bipper rolled his eyes and breezed past all that, boasting, "Think about it! Think about it! We, together, could fuck so much shit up, make the world ours! Come on, me! Whaddaya say? Join me up here!" He knelt down and reached out a hand, as if he even had the capacity to make real deals.
"...I'm getting the spray bottle."