Fiddleford wasn't exactly sure where he was, he couldn't tell what street he was on or where his car was.

But he knew a couple of things.

His name was Fiddleford Hadron McGucket.

He was in Gravity Falls, Oregon.

He shouldn't have helped build that portal and he should never have trusted Stanford. Or the Muse, whatever it was. He should have been home, in Tennessee with the people who cared about him, whoever they were.

Someone had to care about him.

Right?

A sharp ache in his head sent him staggering forward, his hand flying to his temple as he tried to steady himself on a lamppost. Where was his car? He wasn't sure. Oh right, the accident, he didn't have a car anymore. He didn't have any way to get to places besides his two feet under him.

Fiddleford winced as he drew his hand from his head, the throbbing pain taking over his skull. That happened whenever he used the memory gun too much, he couldn't even remember where he put the gosh-darn thing.

Was it back at his apartment?

Did He have it?

Fiddleford closed his eyes for a moment before he pushed himself off the lamppost and staggered another step forward. Or he could have if he hadn't bumped into someone.

"I- I'm so sorry-" Fiddleford said through a slurring southern accent, trying to regain his balance. "I didn't mean t'- I'm plumb sorry- Gosh-diddly-darn it-"