The table was littered with the remnants of breakfast. A half-finished bowl of oatmeal slowly swallowed its spoon, while an untouched bowl of raspberries surveyed the chaos from the head of the table. A knife lay next to a stick of butter, whose end was steeply slanted from dozens of careless, uneven cuts. An overfilled cup of coffee dripped rich, brown tears over a small puddle of milk.
"Eh. It's just Algebra," Morty said. He pushed a plate piled up with butter-soaked toast to the side and dropped his books and papers on the table. "I-I should be okay."
"Alright. Tell me if you need me," Jerry said, returning to the fidget-spinner simulation on his tablet.
"N-No-one needs you, Jerry," Rick grunted as he entered the room. He pulled a chair out and flopped into it. "You trying to do Algebra is like a-a-an ant trying to do... A-Algebra." He took a sip from his flask and slammed it on the table.
Jerry sneered and mocked under his breath, "...an ant trying to do Algebra! Like, what does that even mean?"
"Uh-huh." Rick rolled his eyes. "Anyway, Morty, I'm going to the *belch* bank later. W-wanna come with?"
"I dunno, Rick. I kinda gotta a lot of homework."
"If they really wanted you to do it, th-they woulda had you do it at school."
"I-I mean, I guess."
"Cool. Meet you in the car."
"W-wait, now? You said later!"
"I *burp* meant now. Let's go."
"Now, wait," said Jerry. "What if I have something to say about this? I am his father."
"I-It's the fucking bank, Jerry. I didn't think I had to ask your permission, asshole."
Jerry pushed his chair away from the table, making it screech across the floor. He stood up, picked up his tablet, and walked out of the room without a word.
"Whatever," Rick grunted. He stood up and started to walk out the door. "S-see you in the car in less that *belch* two minutes."
"S-so where is the bank, Rick?" Morty asked. He was watching the trees pass by as Rick sped across the bumpy dirt road.
"Downtown."
"Thi-this doesn't look like downtown."
"It's a sh-shortcut."
Morty's eyebrows crinkled in confusion, but he didn't say anything. He lay his head against the window and watched the blur of green and brown outside.
After a minute, Rick turned on the radio. Muffled voices fought through the white noise as Rick randomly turned the channel dial. Finally, he settled on a channel and leaned back in his chair.
"...a chicken with a wine glass!" came a small voice with a British accent. This was quickly followed by, "Icego; fifteen minutes could save you fifteen percent or more on house insurance."
"Heh. That was random, huh, Rick?" chuckled Morty.
"Yeah, whatever."
"Welcome back to the music," the radio sang. "Up next: Deleted, by Imunicorn Unicorns."
"Ooh! I love this song!" Rick said. "Turn it up." He turned the volume up near the maximum, as the bass grew and grew until it shook the very car itself.
"Yeah, this song's pretty cool," said Morty, though the music blocked out his words.
"Oh, this is our stop!" Rick shouted.
"W-what? There's nothing here!"
Rick turned the car onto a nearly invisible path that was completely overrun with grass and weeds.
"Uh, Rick? There's nothing on this road but that w-wall at the end."
Rick didn't respond. Instead, he pushed on the gas pedal harder, pushing the car to 50 miles per hour, 60, 70, 80.
"Rick? We should slow down!" Morty yelled.
Rick turned the music up to the max and let the car speed up, faster and faster. The wall that started off so far away was getting bigger and bigger as the car got closer.
"Rick, stop!"
"Close your eyes, Morty!"
Morty shook at his head and looked at the speedometer.
He closed his eyes.
All he could hear was the booming music in his ears and the car's engine as it revved louder and higher. His heart pounded, and his sweaty hands clenched onto the sides of his seat.
"RI-I-I-I-CK!"
"WUBBALUBBADUBDUB!"