New revised chapters, in chronological order- so no more timeline jumping. Hopefully this will make for a smother, and less confusing read! ^^
Myra's silvery eyes were focused intently on the odd boy across the street, from her front lawn. She was sitting in the grass with her books; making a feeble attempt at pretending to read. Just in case her mother caught her looking at the 'strange, derelict, boy across the street' again.
The boy had a strange assortment of tools sprawled across his front driveway; his hands working frantically as he pulled a welding mask down over his face. Myra shielded her eyes as the blinding sparks began to flash as he melded the metal together, fixing something into place. Sheer fascination tingled her skin as she watching him work; his eyes full of a frenzied obsession she had never seen in an adult, let alone a boy of her age.
Myra had moved to the neighbourhood a week prior; her parents were wealthy, beyond reason, and had believed it was within her best interests to attend the best school the country had to offer. Of course, their intention had nothing to do with her intellect, in the slightest; their motivations were soley for the intention of rubbing elbows with the other 'fat cats' of society. They wanted her to marry above and beyond their "class"; merging two wealthy families together.
So, they had sold their penthouse and moved to a wealthy, little suburbia; not too far from where her prestigious school was located; within walking distance – if they were ever so inclined to let her do anything as ghastly and destitute as walking anywhere. Especially when they had such a pretentious car to show off to the citizens of their new location. How her parents loved rubbing their wealth in everyone's face.
Myra found herself shaking her head at the thought and glimpsed up from the book at the boy once again. The first time she had seen him, she had thought he was a little peculiar. As she had watched him more and more; she had become utterly fascinated by everything about him – from his strange, bluish hair to the way he obsessively created strange, little… things.
For she had no idea what to call them, other than that; things.
She fanatically found herself thinking about them; wondering what their functionality could possibly be – and more importantly, what drove this boy to build and create such things out of the rubbish he collected. She could see he was seemingly obsessed with creating things and Myra wanted to share his passion for crafting.
She slapped her book closed and placed it on the ground as she rose to her feet. She gently brushed off her purple, floral dress and started towards the path. Today was the day she would find out; she was going to ask him what on earth he was doing. Myra glimpsed over her shoulder towards her house; making sure her mother wasn't watching from the window, before she set off across the road towards the boy.
She stepped up onto the sidewalk near the boy and stood still, her eyes wandering over the little contraption he was tinkering with. He was hunched over as he tapped it on the pavement several times, muttering to himself as he bumped something into place.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
The boy jumped, clearly surprised by her sudden appearance.
"Fuck!" he cursed and glared at her in annoyance, "Y-you should really wear a bell or something… Y-you can't sneak up on a man when he's working on shit!"
"You swore!" Myra gasped, covering her mouth in shock, "You can't swear!"
"I can do whatever the fuck I want!" The boy grumbled, his face contorting in anger – his monobrow furrowing as he glared at her. "You're the new neighbour's kid?" he sounded irritated, yet curious.
She nodded her head, "I am Myra Mortimer."
He pulled a disgusted face, "Y-you're parents must really hate you to name y-you something like that!" He peered up at her with a sudden thought, "I-I know; I'll call you Morty; short for Mortimer…." He was grinning, "Yeah I-I like the sound of that… Morty, Morty… Mmmmmoooorttyyy!"
"But my name is Myra." She frowned at him.
"Don't be a-a dumbass, Morty." He was grinning as he wiped the sweat from his brow, with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of black grease. He stood up and gestured to the thing he held in his hand, "This is my latest invention, Morty!" He grinned. "I call it the 'Zapper'."
Myra frowned, her eyes wandering critically across the crude welding and wiring handiwork; it certainly looked like it would zap someone."
"That's interesting, I guess…" She frowned, "You know you're kind of a mean person."
The boy shrugged, "I don't give a shit. Wanna help me test th-this thing out?" He grinned eagerly, as held the little contraption towards her.
Myra shrugged, "Ok." It was curiosity that had killed the cat, after all.
He grinned at her, holding out his hand, "My name is Rick, by the way. Rick Sanchez."
She shook it, albeit timidly.
He let go of her hand and suddenly pressed the Zapper against her shoulder. She felt a surge of electricity run through her body- setting her nerves aflame with agonising pain. She collapsed in a writhing heap as she lost control of her own appendages. Her body twitched uncontrollably and she let out a little yelp.
Rick laughed with delight, "Holy shit, i-it works!?" He laughed maniacally.
Myra stopped writhing, after several moments and burst into tears as she sat up, "Why did you do that to me?" She whimpered between sobs. She wiped her eyes, suddenly glaring at him furiously, "you made me cry!"
Rick knelt down on the ground next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, "I-I'm sorry, but it was better you than me. I-I'll tell you what- you can give me a zap now, if it will make you feel better?" He held out the Zapper towards her with a sarcastic smile.
Myra snatched it off him, before he could react and pressed the button as she thrust it against his arm.
Rick whimpered with a strange, involuntary noise and fell to the ground. His body jerked around as it had a fit, caused by the electrical surge.
Myra grinned as she stood over him, suddenly delighted by the instant Karma she had dished out.
"I was joking!" Rick scowled, after his body stopped jerking around, "But I-I guess that makes us even." He leapt to his feet and stared at her with an odd smirk, "You're kinda ok, I guess…"
"MYRA ALEXIS MORTIMER!"
Myra's head whipped around as she stared at her furious mother, across the road. She looked completely beside herself with anger; her hands we on her hips and her beautiful face was contorted in rage; turning redder by the second. "Get away from that boy!"
"Oops…" Rick snorted, "L=looks like you're in trouble, Morty…" He smirked at her, "See ya around?"
"Maybe…" Myra said in a low tone as she quickly hurried across the street. She buried her face behind a curtain of red hair as she scampered towards her angry mother.
Despite the fact he was extremely rude; Myra had instantly liked Rick.
Nothing would ever stop their misadventures; it was going to be 'Rick and Morty' forever. At least, that had been the original plan.
The wind and rain howled relentlessly outside, almost mimicking Myra's sombre mood, as she glanced out her bedroom window. Her eyes once again fixated on Rick's garage; hoping to see some, inspiring flash of light to give her an ounce of awe.
Although it had only been a few days since their first encounter, Myra was already longing to interact with him. She wanted to be of some assistance to him; to catch his favour for creation; hopefully learn some things along the way.
She heard a shuffling noise from her bedroom door, and glanced over to her mother, a half-finished glass of wine poised in her bony fingers. It was only ten, in the morning.
"Wipe that miserable look off your face." Her mother scowled irritably at her, "Isn't it bad enough that the weather is so relentless today?" She hissed, taking a sip of her wine, "I can't have the couch delivered in this mess, let alone start the preparations on tomorrow's party!" She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Myra was at a loss for words; there was never a right thing to say, when her mother was drinking. So, she turned to glance out the window once more, feeling a sudden jolt of excitement as she saw a bright flash from Rick's garage. She quickly stood up, feeling a surge of relief when she turned to see her mother had vanished from sight.
She had to be quick. Knowing her mother, she was going to be on a morning bender; which meant she would pass out sometime around noon. Usually, whenever Myra was cooped up inside, under such circumstances, she would make herself rather scarce. Today would be no exception.
Myra hurriedly grasped a raincoat from her closet, shrugging it onto her shoulders, before she silently made her way through their labyrinth of a house. Her mother was standing by the front door, her eyes filled with disgust as she gulped down the rest of her wine. She let out an irritated sigh and headed towards the kitchen, ready to fill up her glass again.
Myra tiptoed towards the front door, swiftly snatching up a pair of shoes to pull on. She glanced over her shoulder once more, to make sure the coast was clear, before she silently opened the door and snuck outside.
Her heart was pounding once the door was closed behind her. Her mother would give her the worst thrashing, if she caught her; but she could care less.
She raced across the front lawn; her feet squelching in the wet, sodden grass. There was no way in hell she was going to put up with a day of her mother's bitterness; not when there was something far more appealing occurring across the street.
Her feet hit the puddles in the pavement, soaking through her once white shoes. Myra approached her neighbour's garage window and gave a gentle tap, peering inside at Rick.
He glanced up at her, over his shoulder- his expression turned from annoyed to a bemused smirk. He grinned at her as he strode towards the door, opening it wide with a chuckle.
"Y-you look like a fucking drowned rat, Morty!" He snickered, gesturing for her to enter the garage.
"The weather isn't exactly nice." Myra shot back at him, "Please tell me you are doing something exciting here?" Her eyes were suddenly tracing over his garage, focusing on all the crude gadgets that lined the shelves.
Rick shrugged his shoulders and scratched his head, somewhat sheepishly, "Nothing particularly exciting…" He trailed off, "I mean, I-I have a ton of ideas on how to fuck with m-my dad currently in the works… Y'know- things t-that I'll definitely get my ass whooped for." He shrugged suddenly, an amused smirk on his face.
Myra smirked back at him, "Where do I sign up? You know I could really use something for my parents."
Rick casually leant against the wall, his arms folded across his chest as he watched her wandering around, her excitement brimming as she glanced over his inventions.
"Don't tell me y-you're a part of the 'asshole parent' club too?" Rick snickered, "Man, here I-I thought I was the only one with a shitty dad."
Myra paused suddenly, glancing at him, "both of my parents are butt-heads; my mother is the worst; my father is away most of the time."
Rick gave her an odd glance, "Geez…." He trailed off, somewhat awkwardly, "At least my mother isn't a complete bitch…"
Myra turned away from him, "Must be nice."
She felt a hand on her shoulder suddenly, and she glanced around to see Rick staring at her, "I-if it makes you feel any better; you're kinda a piece of shit too." He grinned suddenly.
Myra shoved him playfully, "You're such a rude, boy!"
Rick let out a feigned gasp, grasping his face between his hands, "Who, me? No fucking way!"
Myra wrinkled her nose at him, with a grin. His sense of humour was certainly breath of fresh air, compared to the usual, pompous, kids from her parents' circle of 'friends'.
He let out a little chuckle, after watching her for a silent moment, "C'mon I have something to show you, Morty." He gestured for her to follow him towards the back of the garage.
He stopped before a metal garbage can, his eyes bright with delight, "Welcome to Chateau de Rick," He motioned towards the can with both of his arms.
"A garbage can?" Myra glanced at him with a disappointed frown, "You think that garbage is interesting?"
Rick snorted at her, "W-well that's a entirely different topic for another day, Morty." He grinned, "A-actually it's what's inside the can…"
Myra was frowning at him as she gently removed the lid.
There was a small flash and a boom sound, before some greenish gas substance started to erupt from the can. A foul stench suddenly choked the air from her lungs Myra began to wretch and dry heave as she fell to the ground.
She gasping for breath, feeling the stench completely overwhelming her senses.
Rick was letting out choked chortles, as he also struggled to breathe. He suddenly grasped her by the back of her dress and dragged her towards the back door on the garage; hauling it wide open.
Myra gasped desperately, filling her lungs with fresh air, "Holy cow…" She choked, "What the hell was that?" she winced, covering her nose as the foul stench started seeping from the garage.
Rick was still choking on laughter, "T-t-that was a 'fart bomb'…. Perhaps a little too military-grade." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "nothing a little formula modification can't fix…"
Myra glanced up, a suddenly wicked idea had gripped her, "Did you know my mother is having a fancy party in a few days' time?" She asked, grinning maniacally.
Rick glanced at her, suddenly mimicking her wicked grin, "geez, I-I was kinda on the fence about you, Morty; but I have to admit, I like th-that you're a deviant piece of shit."
Myra grinned at him, suddenly slinging her arm around his bony shoulders, "Well, what do you say to 'Rick and Morty' ruining their shitty parent's lives forever?"
Rick snorted, laughing in hysterics suddenly, "I-I think that's th-the stupidest idea ever!" He chuckled, wiping away a stray tear, his expression turned suddenly serious, " I'm in."
"Richard…" The woman's voice suddenly seized their attention, "Sweetie, what are you doing outside?" a tall, slender woman appeared, sporting a fair complexion and a neat bun of faded red hair.
Her eyes were full of surprise and confusion as she laid eyes on Rick and Myra; as though she was witnessing the most peculiar abnormality.
"Hello…" She was smiling pleasantly, her eyes turning quizzingly to Rick, "Who's your little friend?"
"Th-this is Morty…" Rick grinned, "New kid- those assholes from across the street." Rick stated matter-of-factly.
"Richard; language!" His mother shook her head at him.
"Dad says it all the time." Rick shrugged his shoulders, "My six-year-old brain is like a sponge; those profanities really stick right in there!" He chortled and his mother shook her head once more.
"Morty…" His mother frowned, "Is that your name?" She glanced at Myra; her expression soft and pleasant.
Myra shook her head, "Not my actual name, mam' . My name is Myra Mortimer, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Sanchez."
Rick snorted in disbelief, "Jesus! W-what's with this sudden formality, Morty?"
"Richard…" His mother said in a warning tone, "It's a pleasure to meet you too." She smiled warmly and Myra couldn't help but to like her instantly, "There's really no need to act so formally here…" She chuckled softly, "I do understand that your parents probably hang around with a different calibre of people." She smiled, and a feeling of warmth and comfort swept over Myra once again. "I promise I won't tattle."
Myra's mind flooded with questions. Was this what everyone else's mother was like? Was this what normality was? How bad could Rick's father really be?
"You'd better clean that smell from the garage, before your father gets home from work. Mrs Sanchez said, turning her gaze to Rick, "You know that will only upset him more than all your little contraptions…" She let out a weary sigh, "Sometimes I swear you like getting yourself into trouble…"
Rick shrugged his shoulders, "Maybe one day he'll learn to leave my shit alone."
His mother made a noise of disbelief, "Is this still about him throwing out your old socks? Richard… they were holier than the pope!"
Rick made a series of grumbled sentences and headed into the garage to open the car port door.
Mrs Sanchez turned to Myra with another warm smile, "I am about to bake some cookies, would you like to help?"
Myra's mind was racing with uncertainty, but she nodded her head, and followed Mrs Sanchez inside, Rick close behind, still muttering beneath his breath.
A week later, Myra was grounded.
It was something that she would certainly get used to, as time passed; but in the early years it was absolute torture. Her mother would wander past her room every so often and let out a string of berating insults and then slink back towards the kitchen to refill her suddenly empty glass.
To say that her mother was upset, about the stink bomb fiasco, would be a dramatic understatement. It had, however been a great success for Myra and Rick; one of the many they would have.
Myra's attention was focused on her painfully white ceiling. Being barred in her room, without even books to entertain herself, was certainly irritating.
A sudden tapping at her window seized her attention. She climbed to her feet to investigate, her entire face brightened as she saw Rick with a series of broomsticks crudely duct-taped together. He grinned, tossing the over-sized contraption aside, watching as Myra opened her window and poked her head outside.
"Still grounded?" He smirked at her, his face bright with amusement.
"You know it." She wrinkled her nose at him, "She said 'until you learn to act appropriately'!" She mimicked her mother's stern tone, and then shrugged her shoulders, "Guess I'm going to die in here, Sanchez."
Rick snorted, and rolled his eyes at her, "Just climb down here, Morty." He said, gesturing for him to follow him, "I-I have something to show you!"
Myra frowned, before resigning to the fact that anything was better than another day being cooped up with her mother. She slipped her legs out over the ledge of the windowsill and onto the rooftop shackles. She gently made her way towards the gutter and shuffled towards the latticed hedge, and gently climbed down, grateful that her parents bought a house with such an easy escape route.
Once she was on the ground, Rick was waiting with his bicycle, "Geez… you took forever, Morty." He grumbled, "A-and that was so painful to watch…" He shook his head, "I suppose you don't have a bike either…"
Myra frowned at him, "My mother said they can break your hymen." She shrugged. "Apparently having one makes me more likeable… or something."
"What's a…." He frowned, his brow pinching together, "I-it's a girl thing…I-I don't want to know." He shook his head dismissively, "J-just get on the bars."
Myra frowned, glancing at his bike and strategically climbing onto the front handlebars. She placed her feet either side of the front wheel nuts and held on tightly. It was surprisingly comfortable and she turned to glance over her shoulder at Rick, who looked less than impressed.
"If you blind me, because of y-your dress flying over my head…" He muttered, starting to pedal.
"We can always swap clothes." Myra giggled, amused by her suggestion.
Rick smirked at her, "Although I am all in favour of keeping things breezy… I don't think riding a bike would be the best situation for wearing something so …frilly…"
They rode down the road, for a few moments before Rick veered off the track, onto a dirt trail, which led into the nearby woods. After a few more moments he insisted they ditch the bike, and they continued on-foot.
"H-have you ever done anything without your parent's approval before?" Rick frowned at her, as they wandered down the trail, "I mean… you seem intelligent enough to have thoughts of your own."
Myra thought for a moment, "Ever since we left the inner-city, it's just become so much worse." She shook her head, "My mother keeps drinking so much… dad is away all of the time…" She shook her head, "They fight whenever they're together…"
Rick was giving her an odd stare, "Yeah, we can kind of hear them sometimes." He cleared his throat, "My mom insists that you should come and live with us." He shook his head, "Even my dad says that no child should ever have to hear that."
Myra smiled, "You're parents are so great; I wish mine were more like them."
Rick snorted, "If my dad was yours…. I think you'd be singing a different tune, Morty." He paused, gesturing for her to follow him off the trail, "I-I'm just happy that my parents leave me to my own devices, most of the time. But they still care enough to get angry if I set myself on fire, or something."
They wandered further into the woods, and Myra felt herself losing her sense of direction. She was suddenly aware of how much trust she had in Rick Sanchez, and she began to question herself for such a poor decision.
After a few moments Rick was grinning, "Ah, there it is!" he pointed, and Myra saw some kind of structure amongst the trees and could hear rushing water nearby. "This is my secret place, Morty. If you tell anyone about it I-I'll hurt you." His tone was serious.
Myra frowned at him, "If this is such a secret, then I insist that it's also my secret place too!" She was frowning at him as they approached the structure. It was crudely crafted out of branches, old logs and planks; but the functionality of a treehouse was certainly there.
Rick snorted at her, "oh you insist do you?" he rolled his eyes, "Fine… but you have to help me do something first."
Myra frowned watching him closely, "Fine… what is it?"
"We're going to filch some power, Morty… there's a transformer nearby we should be able to connect to…" He scratched his head thoughtfully, "Of course, t-there could be lethal consequences."
Myra was frowning at him, "How do you know how to do all of these things?" she asked, feeling rather confused as she stared at him.
"Trail and error, mostly." He shrugged his shoulders, "Also, I-I real a lot of shit."
Although the expedition had proven to be extremely dangerous; they were successful, once again. Rick had insisted that they were great partners; that nothing would get in their way.
For the first time, Myra began to believe that she could take on the world; provided Rick was also there, of course.
Years passed with a significant ease.
To the Mortimer's surprise, Rick also attended the same uppity, pompous excuse for a private school, as their daughter. They hired some over-priced P.I to investigate the Sanchez', feeling concerned that their seemingly lowly neighbours were harbouring some kind of secret wealth. As it turned out, they were; but certainly not enough for them to approve of Rick and Myra's friendship.
But they gradually fell into defeat with Myra continuously defying their demands to stay away from him. They were resigned to the fact there was nothing they could really do, apart from having the entire family removed from the neighbourhood. Which, oddly enough, would prove to be an unpopular move with the rest of their neighbours.
Funnily enough, the Sanchez' were quite a popular family, within the little gated community. Rod and Beverly were actively involved in many of the little organizations, much to the Mortimer's disgust.
So, they let Rick and Myra be, for the most part.
Myra was sitting beneath the shade of the tree, in the front yard; her face buried in yet another novel. She wasn't supposed to be outside; she was in trouble.
There were construction workers, busily installing a large fence around the perimeter of the house, busily clanking away. But for the moment, Myra wasn't completely fenced in.
Her mother wanted her confined to her room, though that hadn't really been punishment for Myra in years. But, it was certainly far too nice a day to spend indoors; so she had climbed out od her window to escape into the front garden. Her mother would be furious, and no doubt prattle on about how "ladies" didn't do such ghastly things; Myra could care less.
She wasn't interested in being her parent's societal puppet. She knew the only reason they sent her to the prestigious private school, was to rub elbows with the other wealthy parents and kids. They wanted her to find a rich husband already, despite not having even hit puberty.
A red ball suddenly landed on the grass next to her and she jumped, glancing around to see who had thrown it. There was no-one around, but she definitely suspected Rick was up to something.
"W-what are you reading there, Morty?" Rick's voice chimed from behind the tree.
Myra resisted the urge to throw the ball at him; she instead turned back to her book, pretending to read, "Go away- you've gotten me into enough trouble this week, Sanchez." She was frowning, her face contorting into annoyance.
Rick's laugh came in a pleasant thrum, "Because of t-the cat thing?"
"Because a lady isn't supposed to be interested in the complexities of science." Myra muttered in a sarcastic tone, "Because I am far more suited to being a housewife than creating temporal fields and making our cat, Tingles, explode in the front yard."
Rick snorted suddenly, appearing from behind the tree, "Clearly my calculations were off, Morty."
Myra frowned at him, "Obviously." She felt her eyes go wide as she saw the large, new bruise he was sporting on his face; spreading from his left cheek to eye, "What happened?"
Rick slumped down onto the grass beside her, "My dad didn't appreciate the cat-thing either." He was frowning, suddenly surly as his eyes focused on the ground before him. It wasn't the first time his father had hit him, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
"One day we'll make something that… just opens a door to a new world, or something." Myra frowned, resisting the urge to physically comfort Rick, knowing he'd hate it. "We'll just leave this shitty world." She waved her arms about to emphasize the point.
Rick let out a weary sigh and smirked, "Maybe you're right, Morty… Maybe you're right."
Rick's eyes wandered from the boring worksheet, on the desk before him, across to the other side of the room. Myra was frowning with sheer boredom, as she stared out the window; no doubt daydreaming of something more significant. She rested her chin upon her hand with a weary sigh, her eyes suddenly turning away and locking with his.
Her face brightened and she stuck out her tongue at him, before there was a sudden, frustrated grumble from the front of the class.
"Myra?!" The teacher snapped irritably, "Have you even been listening this entire time?"
If rolling eyes could make a sound; Myra would win prizes. Though, being a teacher, Mrs Blubs would get off easy; Myra seemingly had too much common-courtesy for the adult morons, of the world.
"Yes, I'm sorry." She said simply, though Rick could see that she had clenched her hands, ever so slightly.
Despite being ten, Rick had his suspicions that hormones were hitting her hard. To say she had a short fuse… well, that would be an understatement, to say the very least.
"I've finished the worksheet already." Myra said, holding up the filled sheet already, "I understand the correct mathematical formula already. I thought it would be nicer to sit and stare out the window, rather than complain about your methods of solution."
"Oof…" Rick snickered, feeling the burn, despite it being directed at the teacher. Myra was clearly in a mood.
Mrs Blub's rotund face turned red with irritation, "Excuse me?" she said, waddling her way towards Myra, "This is the correct method, taught at college."
Myra held up her sheet as the burly woman approached, "Its ok, Mrs Blub; there are multiple ways to arrive at the answer- so long as the answer is correct."
Mrs Blub's frown widened, making her resemble a toad as she snatched the piece of paper from Myra, her eyes wandering over the page with a venomous fury.
Rick could see the moment of disbelief and disgust on her face as she realised she had been seemingly outsmarted by a child. Her face was turning purple.
"Principal's office, Miss Mortimer." She frowned, "I won't tolerate any more of your sass in my classroom!" She said through clenched teeth.
Myra stood up, visibly resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Mrs Blub again, and made her way towards the door.
Rick stood up, smirking, "Yeah, I… uh, finished too b-but I'm lacking her sophistication. I-I'm just going to call your work out for w-what it is… which is shit."
Mrs Blub's face went impossibly dark-beet; her features contorting in pure rage, "GET OUT!" She said, practically throwing a punch as she pointed her finger towards the door.
Rick smirked to himself, quickly catching up to Myra in the hallway, "W-well that was certainly… something."
Myra giggled, "I thought she was going to start catching flies with her tongue, or something."
Rick chortled, "Honestly I thought she was going t-to shit her pants."
"With breath like hers; I'm pretty sure her anus is her mouth!" Myra shot back.
They both burst out into cackles, Rick gripping his sides.
"You wanna get out of here?" Rick cocked his brow at her, "Honestly I-it's more than a sign when you're smarter than your teacher?" He smirked at her.
Myra grinned back at him, "yeah, it really is." She said, tucking a strand of red hair back into place, "Let's go finish that thing we are doing with the frogs. I also have a proposal about a few robotic modifications… especially for that one that has no back legs…"
Rick chuckled, more to himself than to her. She was forever the optimist whenever it came to the frail and helpless. He had watched her nurse the deformed tadpole into adulthood; she had been extremely incessant about ensuring it's survival. It was certainly admirable; he wouldn't have hesitated to put it out of its misery.
"You thought of a name for that poor bastard, yet?" Rick asked absent-mindedly, "I-I mean, he's practically thriving now; I think it's pretty safe to give him a name now?"
Myra contemplated for a moment, before she gave a dismissive shrug, "I don't want to get too attached." She muttered dismissively, as they walked out of the front doors, of the school building.
Rick knew that it was already too late for that, but he decided to keep his mouth closed about it. They walked in silence, all the way to their clubhouse; both contempt with each other's quiet company.
Although he wasn't exactly gifted, with the ability to read people, he knew there was something on her mind. She was certainly moodier than usual but she was also trying to hide it from him. He concluded that it was something to do with her parents and began to wonder whether he should broach the topic, or not.
She was standing over the terrarium, her shoulders slouched as she stared through the glass, "Do you ever wonder if your parents are happy?" She murmured, almost inaudibly.
Rick frowned, "Although they can both be surly bastards; they certainly seem like happy people, in general. Though, my dad has that eternal stick up his ass…"
"I mean; do you think that they love each other?" She asked, turning her silvery gaze towards him.
Rick felt slightly taken aback by the question, "I-I mean… yeah?" he shrugged his shoulders awkwardly. It was true; he had seen the way his parents looked at each other, at times. That odd twinkle in their eyes whenever they thought no one was looking. The way they danced together, in silence, whenever they thought he was away or in bed.
His dad was an angry bastard; but there was certainly no denying that he was in love with Rick's mother.
Myra turned her gaze back to the terrarium, "I read this book; it was all about the 'chemistry' of love. With all the right chemical formula, you could make anyone think that they were in love with you." She smirked, "I don't think that there is a genuine feeling of love; it's more the attachment of familiarity. The longer you are exposed to someone, the more you care about them; throw in a bout of oxytocin… well your brain makes you believe you are in love."
Rick contemplated her words momentarily, uncertain he agreed with them or not. He had seen the way his parents looked at each other; seen a few older couples walking down the street, so obviously smitten with each other. Could all of that been due to a simple influx of chemicals within their brains?
Myra let out a weary sigh, "What I'd really like, is to be able to get my hands on a vole. Apparently those things are as monogamous and fully of oxytocin as things can get; I'd like to see for myself the effects something like that would have on these frogs, or something…"
He wasn't used to seeing her that miserable; sure there were certainly times, where her parents had fought, or her mother had said something particularly scathing… but it was obvious something had happened.
He cleared his throat, "I'm not great a-at reading people, Morty." He frowned, "But I-I think I know you enough to know when something's wrong…"
Myra shot him an annoyed glance, "It's everything. I hate people, I hate my parents…" she shook her head irritably, "I'm just so angry all of the time and I want to hit everyone in their stupid faces." She was clenching her fists, "Why can't my parents just leave each other, already? They'd be so much happier! I'd be so much happier…." She trailed off, her fists unclenching.
Rick screwed up his face, feeling a strange mixture of emotion about her outburst, "Hey… fuck those guys." He said, slapping her on the back, in a pathetic means to comfort her.
She shoved him in response, a slight smirk curved her mouth, "Guess the only person I don't completely hate, is you." She said, amusement glimmering within the depths of her eyes, "At least you make this shitty existence, somewhat tolerable."
Rick cocked his brow at her, "Don't be weird."
Despite putting on the façade of being uncomfortable by her disjointed compliment; Rick was actually brimming with joy. In reality, he felt oddly the same. He certainly felt their friendship would last through anything the shitty world would throw at them. He didn't account for puberty, however.
