It all started with a writing assignment for Mrs. Kane's eighth period English class.

They were reading Ray Bradbury's "The Martian Chronicles", and their job was to write a sci fi story. Usually Morty hated writing, but this was Mrs. Kane-she was his favorite teacher at Harry Herpson High. There was nobody like Mrs. Kane: she was always a fair grader, she never judged, and she always listened to whatever he had to say.

Writing had never been easy for Morty. He'd gotten diagnosed as dyslexic that year, and it wasn't just reading that made his head hurt….When he got home the day she gave out the assignment, he was so worried he almost went to his dad for help….but he doubted his father could be of much use, as he mainly just read the newspaper at breakfast as a form of literature. The rest of the family probably could have cared less. Morty went straight to his room without getting a snack that day. He didn't watch tv or play video games like he usually did. Instead, Morty crawled into bed before dinnertime, fully clothed, and fell into a restless sleep.

He awoke several hours later with a start, his heart beating wildly in his chest, excitement filling his soul-who was that man? That man in his dream? The man with the crazy eyes and the wild electric blue hair? He was so strange, this man, that Morty felt was somehow-familiar….He was acting strange-slurring his words-driving a-a-SPACESHIP? He knew Morty, too….he kept on saying his name, repeatedly, sometimes even burping it as he talked-

Morty's eyes widened, as he realized at once: THERE was his sci-fi character!

He leapt out of bed and immediately snatched a blank notebook from his desk and a pen. He began to write and kept writing, the words seemingly pouring from his fingertips with ease as he jotted them down at an unusual speed. The man-he didn't have a name for him yet-made him laugh so hard it hurt-made him laugh until he cried.

There was only one thing to make this story even better, Morty thought: I'll just pretend that he's my Grandpa…..He only knew a few things about his grandfather: one of them being his name, Rick Sanchez.

Morty smiled to himself at the idea of riding around in a spaceship….a spaceship his Grandpa Rick built with his own bare hands….Nobody had a space-traveling grandfather! And nobody certainly had a grandfather that had built their own spaceship out of things he found lying around the garage….It was something that anyone could do if they had the right knowledge and the right tools…

The world he was painting was a strange and exciting one, filled with all kinds of crazy creatures, and places to travel to, even different dimensions…

In reality Morty had never traveled anywhere. The Morty he wrote about in the story was a better Morty than he was, because this Morty was fearless in everything he did. He was brave and ready for any challenge that came his way. Sure, he still stuttered, but that didn't matter, because he was important. He was special. He was Grandpa Rick's assistant, and together, they traveled all over the universe, and the multiverse, and fought the bad guys and they always won-no matter what, it was Rick and Morty, Rick and Morty forever a hundred years, Forever a hundred years Rick and , www. , 100 years rick and morty-

Wait-what?

Morty rubbed his tired eyes. It was way past dinnertime. His mom had knocked on his door, but he had yelled back that he wasn't hungry, he had a stomach ache; she left him alone after that. It was about 10 pm now and he was exhausted. His fingers hurt from so much writing. Flipping through the book, Morty was surprised to find that he'd written at least 5 pages worth. That was a lot for him. (Mrs. Kane was going to be impressed.)

He didn't show the writing to anyone else, already nervous about having to read his story in class. The project was due on Friday, which meant he had two full days of waiting. When the day finally came he was so nervous he had barely slept the night before. He stood in front of the class and tried his best not to stutter. The class cracked up at the part where they were going in search of an intergalactic fruit known as Mega Seeds. When he read his grandfather's instructions, "When we get to customs, I'm gonna need you to take these seeds into the bathroom. And I'm gonna need you to put them way up inside your butthole Morty-"

"MORTY!" Mrs. Kane's face was bright red. "That's enough!"

Morty's face turned beet red as well, and realized he'd made a big mistake. The class was roaring.

"Your Space Grandpa's a perv!" someone in the back shouted.

"Yeah only an IDIOT would stick seeds up their butt!" another student cackled hysterically.

"I bet he got off on it!" someone else roared.

"STUDENTS!" Mrs. Kane was desperately trying to regain order of her classroom, but to no avail. "STUDENTS! Enough! Morty please take a seat. I want to see you after class."

"Maybe she's gonna ask you to stick some seeds up your butt," someone whispered to Morty as he slowly trudged, head hung low, crestfallen, back to his seat in the back of the room.

When he approached Mrs. Kane after class as instructed, she wouldn't look at him, and she simply handed him a note. The note said, "Please rewrite your story to contain appropriate language and make sure it is turned in by Monday."

Morty's shoulders sank-he'd done exactly what he hadn't wanted to do. He'd let his favorite teacher down and embarrassed himself in front of the whole class.

News got around quickly, and pretty soon everyone knew about Morty's imaginary "space grandpa", including Frank, who was in a different grade, and wasted no time in making Morty suffer for it.

Even Summer, at dinner, brought up the incident. "Did you guys know Morty's been talking about having a "Space Grandpa" in English class?" she asked casually one evening at the dinner table.

"S-shut UP, SUMMER!" Morty snapped, glaring at her dangerously. (Why couldn't she ever just stay out of his business.

" 'Space...Grandpa'?" Jerry Smith echoed his daughter's words with confusion, before shooting Morty an even more confused look. "What's this about, son?" His father's question was posed innocently, but it still made Morty stew with vengeful rage towards his super annoying (and nosy) older sibling.

To Morty's surprise it was his mother who immediately chimed in, "OH, Jerry, you know our son just has a wonderful imagination-let's just let him be himself-shall we?" She gave Morty's shoulder a gentle squeeze, along with an understanding smile; usually this helped, and it did a little, but Morty just wanted to hide.

"It...it's nothing," Morty mumbled to his lap, "it's...just a stupid assignment for class.'

"You know people already think you're a dork," Summer piped in as she kept on texting, not once looking up from her phone as she spoke. "How about not giving them a reason?"

"SHUT. UP. SUMMER!" Morty hissed this time with emphasis. He was practically ready to explode.

"Morty," his mother cut in quickly, "why don't you help clear the table? We're having my famous Pumpkin Pie for dessert! Help me get things ready in the kitchen will you?"

She didn't wait for him to answer as she started clearing her plate and Summer's. Morty continued to glare at his sister's direction all the way to the kitchen as he carried his plate along with his father's.

"Morty…." Once they were alone, his mother turned towards him hesitantly. "You know….that none of that stuff about Dad is true...right?"

"Yeah, Mom." Morty rolled his eyes with annoyance as he did the dishes. "You don't have to t-tell me that!"

"Okay Morty. I only ask because-" His mother hesitated even longer this time, prompting Morty to pause mid-wash. "Because….you know the difference between fact, and fiction….right?"

"Yeah I know Mom," Morty muttered. "Grandpa's a scientist-he left when you were six-sixteen-right? S-something like that?"

"Yes Morty." Beth Smith sounded somber and Morty kicked himself mentally for even bringing it up. "That's right," his mother concluded softly. "Now….come and have some pie with us before you go off to your bedroom for the night….okay?" She gave him a squeeze this time around both of his shoulders; she knew teenage boys liked their space and weren't much into hugs; what she didn't know was how much Morty still appreciated them.

"Yeah. Okay," he agreed.

The story would have to wait.

It wasn't until a few days later, after Morty had turned in his much altered assignment to Mrs. Kane's liking, that things began to get a little…..weird.

"Hey MOOORty!"

Shit-Frank.

"MOOORty!"

"Go away Frank," Morty snapped as he entered the code to his locker.

"Or what?" Frank jabbed him so hard in the back that Morty had to wince. "You're gonna make me walk the plank?"

"-H-Huh…?" Morty was so confused he had to turn around and face his bully.

"YOU know," Frank chided him with a heavy roll of the eyes, "the whole pirate getup? The eyepatch thingy? Whuddya think, Jessica's into pirates or some shit? Get real bro, she doesn't think that way-no girl in their right mind would-like they would want a little shrimp like you anyways!"

"Huh?" It was all Morty could think of to say. He was completely flabbergasted by this line of questioning. "What-what are you talking about-!? I-I don't think I'm a pirate!"

"HEY," Frank jabbed him again-this time so hard that Morty visibly flinched, "where's your eyepatch thingy?" Frank leaned in so close they were practically touching noses. "I bet you're some real sicko who only wears it to impress the ladies!"

"What!?" Morty yelped, "NOI I-I really don't know what you're-"

"What's going on here?" It was Mr. Vagina, the prinicpal.

"Oh-nothing Sir." Frank was playing innocent, just like always. "We were just-ya know-chatting about-personal stuff-right, MORTY?"

"Sure. Yeah. That's right Frank." Morty automatically responded. "We were-discussing uhhh-"

"The school dance," Frank inserted, "I'm taking Morty to the dance!"

"What!?" Morty blurted out but Frank immediately covered his mouth.

"Ummm...ooookay…." Principal Vagina looked downright embarrassed. "We here at Harry Herpson High embrace all definitions of gender and sexual-er-identity…."

"I-I gotta go to the bathroom!" Morty blurted out as he somehow managed to jerk himself free, and before Frank could stop him, he took off running down the hall.

After hiding in the stall (and promptly missing the bus) Morty headed back to his locker, which was thankfully in a (now) empty hallway.

However, what wasn't empty, surprisingly, was his locker: because inside, he found a very curious note.

A piece of plain white paper was taped to the back of his locker. Written in a childish scrawl were the words: "I AM YOUR OWN WORST NIGHTMARE." There was no signature. It was probably from Frank.

Morty was amazed he'd actually figured out the code to his locker….but then again bullies somehow figured out these things whether you wanted them to or not.

He took the note and, not sure what to do with it, he stuffed it deep into the bottom of his bookbag. The note itself terrified him, but as there was no way he could figure out who had written it, it was best to leave it alone; he would have to try not to think about it.

So Morty walked home, where, exhausted, he once again immediately went to his room and fell asleep. He left the note in the very bottom of his book bag, where it remained, useless and forgotten.