When Rick got home, he headed straight for the kitchen. (After all of that, he really needed a drink.)

He wasn't prepared for the sight before him:

Mortimer was lying on the floor in front of the wastepaper basket. A puddle of vomit was on the floor beside him, right next to one of Rick's empty beer cans-BEER? Rick bent down and sniffed the kid. He reeked of alcohol. It didn't take a genius to know immediately what had happened while he was gone.

That little shit!

HIS Morty would have never gotten into Rick's beer. This Morty had drunk himself into an oblivious stupor.

"Hey!" Rick pounded the beer can in his fist, startling Mortimer awake. "Just-just what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Tee hee hee hee!" Mortimer's giggle gave Rick pause. "I'mma bein' sillllly…"

"You're damn right, you're fucking silly," Rick snapped, "except it wasn't just SILLY to drink my fucking BEER, it was fucking STUPID."

"I'mma s-s-sooSOR-r-r-rrry…" Mortimer giggled again as his words slurred in spite of himself. He didn't care at the moment that Rick was angry; he was simply enjoying a kaleidoscope of Ricks dancing around on the ceiling. "I'mmmma gonna sleep a lil…" He rolled onto his side, only to find himself being lifted from his place on the floor and onto Rick's shoulder. "He-eeey!" he protested. "N-no fair-"

"You drinking my BEER is what's not fucking FAIR, Morty." Rick hoisted him above his shoulder as he carried him upstairs. "LIFE isn't fucking FAIR, MORTY."

"M-m-my name is m-m-m-MOrti-mer-"

"Whatever the fucking hell your stupid name is…" Rick muttered as he brought him straight into Morty's old room and dropped him unceremoniously on the bed. "...you keep your ass right here-and DON'T YOU FUCKING MOVE until I SAY SO!"

"Tee hee hee hee," Mortimer responded from under the covers, hiccuping a couple of times before Rick simply shut off the light and shut the door promptly from behind him.

When Summer got home, she found Rick passed out on the couch, with several empty beer cans strewn around him and a half-empty pizza.

Summer groaned to herself silently as she went about picking up the empty beer cans. So what else is new?

She'd had a shitty day as it was, and it seemed that it wasn't about to get any better. Ms. Hernandez had called her into her office at 2:30. She'd told her all about the talk she'd had with her grandfather. She'd said her grandpa was going to be making sure she started a new schedule and that she stuck to it. Yeah right, thought Summer at the time of the conversation, He can barely stick to his own schedule, let alone enforce me to make and keep mine!

"Hey!" She nudged Rick's foot with her hand. He'd let his shoes fall to the floor and his bare feet were sticking straight up in the air. They stunk to the "high heavens". "Where's Morty?" she demanded.

"Drunkfff…." Rick half-mumbled, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Yeah I KNOW you are," Summer snapped, "I'm talking about MORTY. Where is he?"

"D-damn kids...Got into my liquor-he-damn kid got no RESPECT!" Rick bellowed, his words slurring a lot more heavily than usual. "K-kid's gotta know, know BETTER than that-to-to get into my damn fucking BEER-"

"He WHAT?"

"F-fffound him innna puddle of a pile of his own warm p-puke…"

"Oh my GOD!" Summer tore at once up the stairs and threw open the door to Morty's room.

She was relieved when she found him fast asleep in bed. His face looked painfully pale and he had dark rings under his eyes, but he was snoring peacefully. She brushed the hair back from his head and made sure he was fully covered by the bedsheets. Then she stormed back downstairs.

"How could you let him DO that!?"

"I did'na do NOTHING you damn BITCH!" Rick roared.

"You let him get DRUNK!" Summer hollered. "I TRUSTED you were going to take CARE of him!"

"Fffft!" Rick snapped back at her indifferently. "S-sssstupid lameass therapizzzz." He attempted to point a finger at Summer but wound up pointing instead at the far wall. "Youuu better shape up, kid-O, 'cuz you goin' down, an' I won' always be there…."

Summer glowered at Rick with disgust. Before she lost her nerve, she hovered dangerously over him to where their faces were almost touching. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, but this time she didn't gag. "I hope you vomit in the middle of the night and choke on it," she hissed as darkly as she could muster without raising her voice so as not to disturb Morty.

Then she stormed out of the room and stalked upstairs, where she flopped onto her bed with exhaustion.

When Mortimer woke, the moon was full outside the bedroom window, but even that light was far too bright for him. His head was killing him. He needed some water, but he couldn't seem to move. "S-s-Summer…?" he called out. His raspy voice was painfully weak-sounding. He'd never felt this ill before. The moonlight mixed with shadows created strange constantly moving patterns in front of his eyes. I'm never drinking soda ever again.

As carefully as he could, he climbed out of bed, half-stumbling down the hall, as his gait was still a bit unsteady. He went into the bathroom and turned on the sink, letting the water run as he splashed himself in the face several times, the coolness of the water soothing his aching skull.

When he opened the door to Summer's bedroom, Summer was fast asleep. He didn't feel right about waking her; he'd already caused way too much trouble, and he could only imagine what lay in store for him now. He seemed to recall someone picking him up off the floor, although he had a funny feeling it hadn't been Summer.

Was it actually Rick? Mortimer couldn't conceive of Rick doing anything like that. When he'd been sick in the past, like with a cold, Rick had just ignored him and eventually, he'd gotten over it. This time, with this Rick, had been way different-Rick had actually taken care of him, and put him to bed.

Mortimer glanced down the hall towards Rick's room. He could hear snoring that he recognized immediately as Rick's. He was going to have to say thank you somehow, but he wasn't sure how; this was all new territory to him. He'd never once wanted to thank his Rick for anything, as his Rick had never given him a reason to say thank you-but this Rick had.

Mortimer smiled softly to himself as he tiptoed slowly and carefully back down the hall to the room Summer had said he could call his own. He climbed into bed and hugged Buster Bear close to his cheek. A small tear escaped his eye and disappeared into the soft brown fur.

Maybe all Ricks weren't so bad after all.