Morty quickly took an empty booth closest to the door, staring out the window. The glass was smudged with some dark stain, and it looked fresh. Morty scooted away from the window, but stayed in the booth.
Rick sat opposite of him, picked up a menu by the corner of their table, and flipped it open.
Morty moved to pick up his own menu, but noticed it was written in an alien dialect. Rick would have to order for the both of them.
Morty stared past the dark smudge on the window, lingering on the slow lazy trail of the asteroid belt. It started making him drowsy, so he looked away from the emerald shined glass.
Rick was muttering behind the menu, tapping at random photos and nodding slowly. He flipped the menu over to Morty, a finger held at one item in the menu.
"I got this last time I was here. It's like a ba-ba-aayyghconator, but instead of a few pieces of bacon, it's like the whole thing's wrapped in it."
Morty tilted his head. "I-It looks pink Rick."
"I know. Pr-pretty cool, right?" Rick asked.
Morty nodded. "Yeah, it- hey is that shaped like a Plumbus?" He suddenly asked, pointing at a specific picture.
Rick flipped the menu back over to himself, and his eyes widened. He lifted the menu closer to his face. "Je-eeeghsus fucking Christ, it is!"
"Can I get that?" Morty asked hopefully. He tapped on the booth table lightly and glanced back at the stain on the wall. It was surprisingly much darker and thicker than last time, and a small fissure appeared in the center of it, splitting open like liquefying gelatin.
Morty gagged, forgetting about the Plumbus shaped meal. "Rick, l-l-look at the stain. It's so nasty."
"Not as nasty as your gross obsession over Jessica." Rick replied without looking up at the menu.
"Rick, seriously. Look at this." Morty pressed.
Rick tore his gaze from the menu with a disinterested glare. "That could hardly be called a stain, Mo-oorghty. Here," he said, throwing a swab at him, "poke it."
"Wh-wh-why would I poke it?" Morty asked.
"Because your an adolescent male, Morty. Kids your age usually start poking at dead things for some type of gain."
"Kids my age usually start drinking, Rick." Morty said, poking the gelatinous dark matter on the glass.
"Well, ki-kiighds your age actually know the simple answer to four times five."
Morty pressed his lips together into a thin line, angrily pulling the swab away from the window. He forced a gag down his throat when the dark semi-liquid trailed with the swab, releasing the fumes of a scent similar to sour milk.
Something tapped against him, and Morty looked down at the long thin vial Rick was gesturing to him with. The slime was starting to gain the old man's interest.
Swallowing thickly, Morty twirled the swab around, gathering the trailed slime hanging between the window and the end of the swab, breaking the trail and putting the sample into the vial.
Morty shivered as Rick put the vial into his lab coat. "Rick, w-w-would you mind switching seats with me?"
"Why, scared of a l-ligghttle slime hanging off a wi-win-dogghow?" Rick teased.
"Rick, please." Morty pleaded.
Rick stared at Morty, then stood up grumbling. He took out a set of tools from his pocket after he took Morty's previous seat in the booth, prodding at the specimen with more interest. "Huh, it's organic." He mumbled to himself.
A low warbled voice came from behind them. "Sir, if you'll stop prodding the mess on the window, I'll take your order."
Morty glanced away from Rick's cock-eyed stare and glanced down at the source of the voice.
The slick red alien was standing on the floor, hopping from leg to leg. It made a coughing sort of gesture and hopped again. "If you would be kind enough to lift me up to the table." He warbled to Morty.
"Oh, I-It's no problem." Morty replied, reaching an open palm to the creature. The alien hopped on, and Morty passed the alien up slowly to the table, where it pattered around.
"Thanks. Busted wing." It unfurled a slightly bent wing, buzzing with crystalline transparency. A needle suddenly jabbed into the thin membrane of the wing, and green fluorescent liquid poured inside, tracing the veins like stained glass.
Rick pulled the needle from the creature's appendage, rolling his eyes while placing the syringe into his lab pocket.
The bent wing righted itself with a twitch, and the small alien inspected It's previously injured appendage. "It's still green." It stated simply. "No, matter." It said shaking it's head while closing one eye. "Would you gents like to order now?"
"Oh, right." Rick said. He glanced at the menu quickly. "I'll take the Vuxterip special, and my grandson wi-iighll take the one that's shaped like a Plumbus."
"Ahh. Order one hundred, and one hundred-twenty." The small alien said, jotting down everything in it's order pad. It flew off, barking orders in it's native language while fluttering into the kitchen.
Rick muttered, turning back to the dark matter on the window.
"W-w-what's wrong Rick?" Morty asked.
Rick took another sample from the window. "I wasted a serum on the alien."
Morty was appalled. "How could you say that? He wouldn't have been able to do his job."
"It, Morty, barely lives that long. It only evolved to live an extra three minutes from it's half an hour life span, and it can't e-eeghven form it's own gender."
"So, why did you use it?" Morty asked.
"'Cause I'm fuckin' hungry Morty." Rick retorted. He rolled his eyes when Morty glared at him.
Morty shook his head, a nervous twinge sitting at the bottom of his gut. He shifted in his seat, tapping the underside of the table absentmindedly.
Rick stopped poking at the mold on the window, wafting away the stench of sour milk by waving his hand. "Holy hell." He said, removing another flask from his breast pocket. "You were right, it's na-aghhsty."
"Here it is. Order one hun-der-red, and hun-dred twenty." The small red alien singsonged to them. It placed their trays of food down with ease, considering the food was twice it's body weight. It tapped it's notebook. "Your payments can be made at the front." It ripped off the sheet from the rest of the notebook, handing it to Rick. "If there's any concerns about your order, please consult my brother."
"Okay." Morty said.
The small alien nodded politely, the flew into a corner above a biological reprocess unit. It's wings buzzed for a few seconds, and then the alien grew paler, struggling to keep up it's altitude. A warbled sigh escaped it, and it dropped, where it was promptly re-purposed in three seconds by the whirring machine.
Morty sat still, watching Rick digging into his alien burger with glee through his peripheral vision. The nervous twinge in his gut turned into nausea, and he poked at his Plumbus shaped meal with less interest.
"Rick, do you know where the bathroom is?" Morty asked.
Rick pointed outside, trying to quickly swallow his food. "Outside. Le-egghft. You'll see it, it looks like a shitty outpost."
Morty pushed his plate away from him as Rick continued to scarf down the burger. As directed, Morty walked out the burger joint and turned left, the once calm enjoyable trail of asteroids tightening his gut with more nausea. He scuffled hurriedly to the bathroom, kicking up more of the sulphurous dust on his way.
He found the bathrooms, which were surprisingly similar to a gas station rest stop, albeit the signs were in alien dialect. Morty took the section to the left, feeling safer about Rick's planetary guidance. Coincidentally, the sign outside was blue, so maybe the bathrooms were gender specific.
Morty walked to a sink, and turned the faucet. He barely registered the green water as it sloshed onto his hands and onto his face. Morty splashed another handful of water on his face, trying to ignore the nausea in the pit of his stomach.
Something squelched, and Morty turned at the sound, both hands on the edge of the sink. Nothing remarkable stood out, the stalls were empty, and the sound seemed to have come from nowhere.
Morty turned back to the sink, suddenly hit with the curdled scent of expired milk. He gagged, forcing the rise of bile back down his throat. He swallowed thickly, catching a glimpse of the last stall in the mirror.
Mangled flesh gripped the ceiling and walls, pulsating noxious gas into the bathroom. The stench of sour milk got worse, and Morty's stomach lurched.
He heaved into the sink, his innards burning as the mix of semi-digested snacks and stomach acids rose up. The running tap water washed most of his vomit away, chunks of food still sitting around the drain.
Morty felt lightheaded, his hands gripping the sides of the sink again to keep himself up from falling to the ground. Another wave of nausea clawed at him, and he swallowed it back.
More gas emitted from the corner of flesh, and Morty's nausea and dizziness intensified. Turning off the faucet, Morty ran out of the bathroom, vomiting tartly outside, preferably away from the creature inside.
His stomach churned as he thought of the gas in the room, cold sweat gathering around his forehead. He took a shaky breath, the taste of bile still on his tongue.
"Morty. Come o-oogghn, I got this stuff to go, and- oh you're fuckin' shittin' me."
Morty backtracked a step towards Rick's ship, keeping an eye on the bathroom door. A wave of dizziness and nausea hit him simultaneously, and Morty's head spun.
"Ah, don't fa-iighnt on me like a bi-iightch, Morty." Rick said. He grabbed his socially awkward grandson roughly by the shoulders, pushing him into the passenger seat as gently as the stock market crash.
He secured him onto the chair with the barely functional seatbelt, then took his own beloved seat in front of the steering wheel, taking a nice precautionary swig of alcohol just to be on the safe side of a space highway.
Fuck the space highway.
Rick muttered about his now-getting-cold-burger-that-he-wanted-to-share-with-his-grandson as he started the slavery powered car, pulling out of the dingy parking lot of the "shitty ass planet, anyway."
Morty's head lolled towards the window, so Rick couldn't catch the exact shape the boy was in, but judging by his posture, he looked smashed to hell. Just what the fuck happened in the span of three minutes?
'Whatever' Rick thought. 'Morty always bounced back from worse.'