A/N: Most of the dialogue in this piece is word-for-word what the characters actually say in the episode, which I did to keep the scene as close to canon as possible. That dialogue and the characters belong to the creators, Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. All the inner-monologue and the short convo between Rick and Morty after they return from the adventure is my own writing. Enjoy!
"Read 'em and we-EEUUGH-p, fellas!"
The others at the table groaned as I scooped the giant pile of shmeckels towards me. Haha, suckers. You can't beat a genius at a game based on strategy and odds! I heard light footsteps coming up beside me and turned to see the person who, weirdly enough, was responsible for my current satisfaction.
"Oh hey, Morty!" I said, smiling at him. He was an irritating little twerp, but hell, occasionally his ideas were good ones. "Listen, I'm really sorry about all that stuff I said earlier about your adventure. I-I-I'm havin' a good time, Morty. It's not so bad.
Morty looked away from me, gripping his arm with this right hand. "Let's just go home, okay?" He said in a low, defeated voice. "I'm calling it. The adventure's over."
Aw, c'mon! Didn't I just say I was having fun? Jeez, there was no pleasing this kid. "We can't leave now, Morty. I'm on fire!" I said, clenching my fist in a gesture of victory. Besides, I hadn't taken these suckers for everything they had yet.
"Look, I wanna leave now," Morty whimpered. "You win the bet, okay?"
What—I only heard that terrified voice on our most horrifying adventures. And giving up the bet?! Not even the threat of giant jail was enough to send Morty packing! What the hell could have happened in the…in the…? Shit, how long had he been gone? I looked at him, really looked, and for the first time noticed his ruffled hair and scuffed-up face, his wet shirt, the finger-shaped marks on his arms and neck that were sure to become bruises, and the rotten, sickly-sweet stench that clung to him—The fuck?
"Just give me the portal gun and let's go, please," Morty whined, grabbing me and rifling through my lab coat for the portal gun.
I narrowed my eyes and looked over Morty's head at the men's bathroom, the last place I knew he'd been. As the kid spoke, the door swung open and out walked an anthropomorphic jelly bean, his face covered with huge, swelling bruises.
NO.
For a moment my mind was frozen, unable to make sense of the situation. Then it sprang into overdrive and the pieces came together like plutonic quarks, cesium, and water. Emotions more corrosive than acid erupted in my gut, their toxic presence inhibiting my brain. Bile rose in my throat. My vision went red. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! A go at karaoke and a round of poker. That's how long. That was plenty of time to—wait. Morty's clothes still intact. Still able to walk. Jelly bean had the absolute shit beaten out of him (a flicker of pride). Not all the way. Still, a hundred vengeful torture fantasies ran through my mind in the span of a second. Then I registered Morty's warm hands on my arms, and snapped back to the present.
"Please, I just want to…go home," Morty whimpered, tears filling his eyes.
Torture would have to wait. Right now we had an adventure to finish. "Listen, Morty," I said, grabbing his shoulders. "I just won a bunch of shmeckels. Why don't we use 25 of them to pay slippery stair here for a ride back to the village, and then we'll give the rest of the shmeckels to the villagers, huh?" I gave him a smile, and to my satisfaction Morty perked up and smiled back.
"Really?" He said, wiping his eyes.
"Sure Morty, yeah. You know, a good adventure needs a good ending." And you can leave that jelly bean pervert to me.
I occupied myself on the quick (if jolting) ride down the Giant stairs by going through more revenge fantasies (slowly this time, so I could savor them) and trying to resist doing something really lame that I would definitely regret later…like giving Morty a hug. Ugh, just the thought of it makes me want to throw myself off these stairs.
Before I knew it we were back in the village. Morty presented the villagers with the bag of shmeckels and beamed when they called him a hero. The gratification was almost enough to stop my blood boiling. Almost.
"Good job, Morty!" I said, patting him on the back. "Looks like you win the bet." He sure as hell earned it, and bragging rights were the last thing I wanted right now.
"Gee thanks, Rick. But I don't know if I should," Morty said, uncertain. "You know, you were right about the universe. It's a crazy and chaotic place."
At least we can agree on that. But on the other hand…"Well, you know, maybe that's why it could a little cleaning up e-EEUUGH-very now and then, you know? This one's wrapped up neat and clean because we did it Morty Style."
I had destroyed so many places, so many lives. But now there were also countless places and lives that I hadn't torn apart, all because Morty had been with me. And I had to admit, this was one of the least traumatizing adventures we'd ever been on—or at least, it was for me. Shit.
"Oh! Heroes," one of the village leaders said, "we would like to introduce you to our beloved king so that he may thank you personally!"
Morty and I looked around to see several villagers carrying a litter throne. And sitting atop it, wrapped in a fur-lined cloak and wearing a crown, face still bashed in, was that sick monster of a jelly bean. My eyes widened, brain racing into overdrive again at the sight of him.
"Uh, no, i-it's cool!" Morty said, his voice an octave higher than normal. He grabbed me by the coat and yanked me down so our faces were level (geez, he's stronger than he looks). "Rick. Portal. Hurry," he said through clenched teeth.
I didn't need telling twice. I whipped out my portal gun and fired, and the familiar glowing green swirl appeared on the wall of a village hut. We ran for it, leaping through the portal to safety just as we had done a hundred times before. But this time I knew we were bringing back more damage than we were leaving behind.
Back in the relative safety of the garage, I allowed myself to breathe. Just for a second. Then it was time to continue the battle. I looked over at Morty; he was standing there awkwardly, right hand grasping his left arm, not looking at me.
"R-Rick…I-I-I-"
"That was some good thinking M-Morty," I said, cracking a smile. "A-always leave before the rulers get ahold of ya. You know, becau-EUUGHH-se that's when they sucker y-you into doing—doing a-all kinds of other stuff for 'em. Gotta…you gotta ge-get out of dodge befo-EUUGHH-re that happens."
Relief flickered across Morty's face; I wouldn't interrogate him about anything. "Y-yeah, exactly," he agreed.
"Y-you go on in the house, M-Morty. I gotta check something."
I bent down to open my safe, listening for when the door to the house closed. When it did I pulled out a very special gun. "What would happen if someone was stranded in space without a space suit?" Morty had once asked me. The victim would feel a simultaneous freezing and burning sensation as their skin was pelted with radiation at temperatures below freezing. And in a vacuum, every cell in your body would be pulled outward from it's center, ripping you apart. That was how it felt to be killed with this gun. It would be a (regrettably) quick—but excruciating—death. I shot another portal to that same village. Leaning close to it, I could just make out the shadows and shapes of the world beyond. I located my target, stuck my arm through the portal and fired. I watched with grim satisfaction as the filthy thing that had dared touch my grandson swelled up and burst, showering the villagers with stinking sweet goo. I withdrew my hand and the portal closed.
After stowing the gun in my safe I made my way back to the house. Morty had stopped in the doorway to the living room, and when I came up behind him I could see why; the place was trashed. It looked like a stampede had been through it. Yet Beth and Jerry were cuddling on the couch.
"What the hell happened to this place?" I asked, walking into the room.
Beth and Jerry gripped about the Meseeks box I had given them, something about Jerry's golf swing. What an idiot. They were all still speaking to me. I tried to engage in the present like I always did after escaping the mayhem, but I couldn't. I spoke back to them, but my mind wouldn't leave that Thirsty-Step bar. Shit, why was this happening? I KILLED that son of a bitch, he was DEAD. That part was over, done! Why couldn't I just let it go? I got through it unscathed. Fuck, it hadn't even happened to me! So why did I have to suffer for it? I took a swig from my flask, but still all I could see was Morty's face—his broken, terrified face and oh god! I could feel his bruises and scraped like they were my own, and shit, this was why I never allowed my emotions to run free. I needed release, but I couldn't just start chugging a bottle of scotch whisky in front of the three of them. Fuck, I can't do this, I can't. I can't. I can't I can't I can't I CAN'T—
"Wubbalubbadubdub!" I shouted. "haha, yeah! That's my new thing!"
The all laughed. Strange, how emotions can warp on their way violently out of your mouth.