"Morty, c-come h-URP-ere and hand me that extractor," Rick called from the garage, loud enough to wake up the whole house.
Morty jolted awake from his half-asleep daze. He blinked and rubbed his bloodshot eyes, glancing at the clock. It read 1:24 AM. Shit. He needed to pass this Spanish final. Why, oh why did Rick have to drag him off so often? Suddenly, Morty was suffering for not focusing all semester. How was he going to memorize all of these verb conjugations in the next six hours?
He stood up. Wait, how did Rick even know he was awake? He'd told everyone he was going to bed early at dinner. Oh well, duty calls. Grabbing his textbook, he went downstairs and walked into the garage. He wordlessly handed Rick the extractor and whatever else he asked for as he read the words over again. Boot verbs: empezar (e-ie), poder (o-ue)...
God, why couldn't he remember anything? All he could think about was Jessica saying hi to him in the hallway the other day. The way her lips curved, her beautiful eyes...but most importantly, her bare thighs with her teasing little skirt -
"Morty! Jesus, Mo-URP-ty, what are you doing? Y-y-y-you know what's gonna happen if I don't fix this thing? We're gonna blow up this whole neighborhood. Is that what you want, Morty? You wanna blow us up?" The drool by Rick's mouth was really getting out of hand. Morty almost wanted to get him a tissue this time.
His eyes widened slightly and he shook his head. Morty was suddenly alert when Rick mentioned blowing up the neighborhood. If he did that, he'd look terrible for Jessica tomorrow...and he wouldn't pass his final. "W-what did you need, Rick?"
"Pliers." He scurried to grab the pliers, sighing. Maybe if he was smart, like his mom and Summer and Rick, life would be easier. Why did Morty have to be the dumb one? Why did he have to be like his dad?
"Yes! Morty, we did it! Y-you know, I really thought this was gonna be i-URP-t, I thought we'd have to move dimensions again. This was a close one." Rick did a happy jig, setting down his tools and wiping his hands. He glanced at his grandson. Morty looked away, taking a seat in an old chair.
"M-Morty, what's going on?" Rick turned around, leaning against his table as he took a swig from his flask. He eyed him intensely, and Morty finally gave in.
"I have a final tomorrow and I can't think of - I can't focus on - I'm not…" Morty struggled with conveying his point. "I-I-I wish I was smart, like you, Rick."
Rick frowned. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he scowled. "School doesn't matter. Your mother and your stupid father might tell y-you otherwise but they - it won't matter. You think I got good grades in high school, Morty? No. I put my energy into things that matter, l-l-l-like science." He took a long, thoughtful swig.
Morty frowned. "Rick, you always say that. But w-w-what am I gonna do when it does start to matter, like when I-I have to - when I need to get a job?"
The boy's grandpa rolled his eyes. "Oh my g-URP-od. People who think like that end up like your dad. I-Is that what you want, to end up as useless as your old man?"
"No, but -"
"Then stop being such a worrywart and focus on what's more important."
Morty stood up, grabbing his textbook. "No!" He exclaimed. The older man looked at him warily. "Maybe it's easy for you, 'cause you're the smartest man in the u-universe or whatever! B-B-But I'm just me, and I can't just give up on my life like that! You're smart and I'm dumb, remember?" He pointed at the drawing on the wall, demonstrating how Rick's genius brain waves were cancelled out by Morty's Morty Waves. "So stop pretending like you want me for anything other than covering your ass!"
Rick's expression went blank, as it always did when people blew up on him. He watched his grandson storm away, too wrapped up in his fury to care anymore. And then Rick seemed to snap back to reality. "I swear to God, Morty, you're becoming more and more like your sister by the second! All teenagery and hormonal and shit!" He shouted after him.
Morty went back to his room, hoping the rest of the family hadn't heard Rick and Morty going at each other. Well, his dad wasn't much to worry about. He sat back down at his desk, miserably staring into the pages of the textbook. It was so late and he was so tired…
Within the next fifteen minutes, Morty was back to being passed out over his textbook, drool spilling over the pages as he snored away.
Rick sank into his seat, feeling the empty void in him swallow him whole. He couldn't avoid his problems by turning into a pickle this time. He couldn't run away again, either. He couldn't devastate Beth again.
Annoyed with himself, he stood up and moved his desk chair aside to reveal one of the hatches in the garage floor. Morty's Mindblowers, as Rick liked to call them. He climbed the ladder down into the room, looking at the room of erased memories. Red, pink, and blue memories all labeled and sitting in rows. All of these were memories involving Morty.
Rick glanced over his shoulder before picking up a red one at the end of one of the rows. Something triggered and part of the wall slid back to reveal a shoebox. He set the lid aside to reveal black memories. This was what Rick did when he felt like this. Revisit his own unwanted memories and let his self-hatred fester until he felt like erasing those memories away again. He slid the helmet on and revisited his first unwanted memory, simply labeled 'High School'.
He lay in the chair, tilting his head back as his vision faded and he saw the world as he saw it fifty years ago as a teenager, where the two most important things in his world were his projects and...someone.