10/10/20: Don't Ask

It was just after sundown, and Steven Universe could see a pair of hitchhikers waiting by the road. He smiled, and slowed the car down; even though his therapist had told him to live more for himself, he still enjoyed picking up hitchhikers. He liked the company.

It was when he realised that one of them was carrying a dirty shovel and the other was covered in red gunk that he began to reconsider. But it was too late; he had stopped and they were already walking over.

"Hey, can you take us to the next -urp!- IHOP and don't ask any questions?" the older of the two asked.

"Uh… sure," replied Steven.

The two climbed into the back, and Steven began to drive down the dark desert highway.

Before long, he heard one of the two strangers muttering.

"So much blood… so much blood…"

"Yyyyyyup. That'll happen, Morty. Borflorfians are like pimples, you just… you just don't wanna pop 'em."

"A-all I did was give him a hi-five, Rick!"

"Well, now you know, don't you? Don't hi-five 'em. And maybe next time w-we won't have to bury any more High Kings, y'know?"

Steven rapped on the steering wheel.

"Y-you guys haven't committed murder, have you?" he asked.

"Please. It's barely even manslaughter," replied Rick. "Hey, you ever notice that? They call it manslaughter, but what if you accidentally kill a woman, huh? They don't call that womenslaughter. Sexist, am I right?"

"Yeah, you know, that does sound a bit wrong," mused Morty.

"I didn't say it was wrong, I said it was sexist," said Rick flatly.

"Well, you kind of look like you just buried a body," said Steven.

"Didn't I tell you not to ask questions?"

"You did."

"Good, 'cause I've had a long day and I just want pancakes."

He sat back, and there was silence for a long time.

"I-a-aw, Morty!" Rick blurted out. "You've still got Jerry Ford's eyeball stuck in your ear!"

"Aw geez, do I? C-can you get it?"

"I'm not touching that shit, Morty, you get it out," snapped Rick. "Hey, hey driver guy-"

"Steven."

"Whatever. Turn the radio on, they usually save the good stuff for after dark," said Rick.

Steven turned on the radio, ignoring Morty's groans and yelps as he fished the unwanted body part out of his ear.

"Oh. Oh, hell yeah, I love this one, turn it up."

Steven turned up the dial, and stared stoically forward as he listened to the strange sounds in the back seat.

"Some folks like to get away, take a holidaaaaaaaay from the -urp!-bourhood…"

"Aw geez, I think I pushed it in further!"

"Take a flight to Miami Beach or… or Hollywood…"

"Oh no! It's in my hair! It's in my hair!"

"But I'm taking a Greyhound on the Hudson River Liiiiine…"

"Awwwugherarghurg!"

"I'm in a New York State of Mind… ah, Billy Joel. He just, he eases the pain, y'know."

"Rick, I got it out."

"Well then throw it out the window! …I'm in a New Yoooork State of Mind…"

Steven glanced back.

"Is this… normal for you guys?"

Rick and Morty looked at each other.

"Yep."

"Yeah, pretty much," said Morty. "Y-y-y-you get used to it."

"Hey, how would ya like it if I asked you questions about your life, huh?" demanded Rick. "What's your life story, huh?"

"Yeah, what-what do you get up to?"

"Oh, I'm just driving around the country to find myself," replied Steven. "Y'know, 'cause my mom and her family were alien space dictators, and then I had a midlife crisis at sixteen and literally turned into a monster, so…"

"Oh, la-de-da," said Rick.

"Actually, yeah, that does sound kinda traumatic-"

"Morty, I traumatise you more than that five times a day and you know it," snapped Rick.

"What the heck is your problem?" demanded Steven.

"I asked you not to ask questions," snapped Rick. "I need you to do one goddamn thing and you won't do it."

"You are covered in blood! And body parts!"

"Yeah, but they're not mine."

"Fine! Fine, just… fine!" Steven swallowed, forcing down some pinkness.

They sat quietly for another two minutes.

"Hey Rick, what do we do if the cops pull us over?" asked Morty.

"Laser 'em. Just… just laser 'em."

"Okay, what? Why would the cops pull you over?" demanded Steven.

"What did I just goddamn tell you?" snapped Rick.

"Aw geez," Morty buried his head in his hands.

"You didn't tell me I might get arrested for giving you a lift!" shouted Steven.

"You won't! Because I'm gonna murder the cops. With lasers."

"Nobody is murdering anybody in my car!" shouted Steven.

"Oh, and who's gonna stop me, huh?" demanded Rick. "I can do whatever I want."

"Rick, please don't…"

"Next to you? I'm a god. So how about you shut up and drive me to my pancakes, so…"

"No!"

Steven pulled over and brought the car to a halt.

"Get out!" he ordered.

Rick stared.

"Rick, I'm tired, just… just do what he says, you know?" asked Morty.

"Who's that on your dashboard?" asked Rick. "The Indian girl?"

"What, Connie?" Steven answered reflectively, and then threw his hands over his mouth.

"Girlfriend, huh?" Rick crossed his arms. "Take me to my pancakes, or I'll… I'll incinerate her. Or throw her into the dimension of spikes. Or…"

"Rick, this is how all of this started, please don't threaten people over pancakes…"

Steven's eyes flashed pink.

"Don't," he snapped. "Don't threaten her."

"I'll threaten who I want, bitch!"

"Aw geez, he said the b-word…"

"Get! Out! Of my car!"

"Drive! Me! To Pancakes!"

Rick pulled a gun from his coat.

"Not so brave when you're staring down one o' these, huh? Huh, motherfu-"

"I'm really sorry, I'm working on this anger thing."

"Nah, m-most people Rick pisses off try to kill, this… this is an improvement."

Steven and Morty sat on the roof of the Dondai with a bag of takeaway pancakes as Roadside Assistance cut Rick out of the cactus he was imbedded in.

"Yeah, but I shouldn't throw people in cacti," said Steven. "Dr. Brooks is gonna be pretty upset."

Morty shrugged.

"At least we finally got pancakes," he said.

"Is that really why you had to bury a body in the desert?" asked Steven. "Pancakes?"

Morty looked down at the syrup-covered pancake.

"Truly these are the devil's nectar," he said.

"Tasty, though."

"Yeah."