Morty lied comfortably on the living room floor, a yellow-green carpet splayed underneath him. Perched on his chest was a small, monochrome cat with keen eyes and a mangy coat, hardly more than a year old. Morty tried to bathe the thing a number of times before, but it would never sit still enough for Morty to do much good to clean him up. Thick white snow could be seen blanketing the yard through the sliding glass door.
Inside where it was warm, Morty waved his fingers in front of his new pet. Nimble paws batted at his hand, claws still intact slightly pricking him with each swat. The TV blasted some kind of commercial, but Morty wasn't really paying attention to what was being advertised. Rick drank from a beer from the couch, feet propped on the coffee table.
Suddenly, gently lifting the cat from his chest, he sat up and faced his grandpa.
"H-hey Rick?" he smiled.
Rick glanced down at him.
"Wh-what if I named him Schrödinger?" he grinned, proud of himself.
Rick blinked. "No."
Morty seemed hurt.
"Th-th-that was just a dumb—a dumb joke anyway, Morty. Schrödinger wasn't serious he was making fun of everyone. It was a joke. A-a… joke. Now let me get back to my show."
He took a gulp from his beer and reverted his attention back to the TV.
Morty stared at him, trying to think of something clever to say. "You know, that's really, that's really rude, Rick," he stammered out at last, failing that.
Then picking up his cat again, laid back down, setting his new friend on his chest and started to pet him gently, his hand passing over scruffy fur.
"Schrödinger…."