CHAPTER TWO
Strange, blobby cartoons bounced back and forth on the medium-sized TV screen as I stared, slumped on the family couch, eyes wide open and unblinking, spaced out. I had no idea what was going on in this show, didn't have a clue as to what was being said, what happened or what the plot was, and wasn't paying attention. Morty, sitting next to me, was enjoying whatever it we were watching. He chuckled every five minutes… I think. It was hard to tell, for I was completely zoning and had drowned out everything around me. All I could picture in my mind was that man in the garage, who was in the same house as I was in, under the same roof, living where I was going to be sleeping for the weekend. Morty had tried his absolute best to assure me that he was harmless and that nothing bad would happen; but, taking into consideration how I thought I was going to die just an hour ago, it didn't exactly convince me. I continued to sit on the couch until reality finally started creeping into my conscience.
"Hey Morty, don't you have to study or something?"
"Yeah," he said without hesitation, as if he had forgotten and was pleasantly reminded. "I better get going."
He got up, set the remote down next to me, and headed for the stairs. I watched him climb the staircase until he disappeared from sight and I heard his footsteps fade away overhead, followed by his door opening and closing. I reached for the remote and turned off the strange blobby creatures bouncing back and forth on the TV, whatever it was. Once again, silence. I reached in my pocket to take out my phone, immediately tapping both thumbs on the screen madly, writing a paragraph to send my best friend about my morning. The third sentence in, I realized the house wasn't completely quiet. I held my breath in order to try making out what the faint noise was, as it didn't sound like an air conditioning unit. It was a barely detectable high pitched noise—a whirring of some sort. I turned my head towards where the sound was coming from, and immediately stopped when I realized where the origin of the noise was: the garage. I quickly twisted my head back around and stared at the black TV screen, as if it was still on.
What do I do now…?
After a brief debate within my mind, I decided to pretend I was getting water from the kitchen, right next to the garage door, just to see if I could hear anything. Getting up from the couch felt like climbing out of a pool: forced, heavy, slow, and cold as soon as you're up. When I approached the refrigerator, I realized I didn't even grab a glass. I tried shaking off my apprehension while reaching for the cupboard. Why am I so nervous? It's not like he's going to do anything. After a few deep breaths I finally made it to my pretend destination; my glass slowly filled with water as the sound of the dispenser drowned out the whirring noise coming from right next to me. After my glass was full, I pulled back and began to slowly inch towards Rick's door, slowly sipping out of my cup. The whirring grew louder and more clear—which turned out to be a mix of whirs, sparks, and gears grinding—but there was something else in the midst of the noise that I couldn't quite make out. Another noise, a living thing's noise, but not… human, exactly. Before I knew it, I was standing by the door, and I could feel it vibrating right in front of my nose. The strange noise slowly started to clear up a little, but was still unintelligible. I moved even closer and turned my head to press my ear against the vibrating wooden barrier standing in between me and the madman. The noise was finally coherent.
"Murfma tomeshbrog slemlag mrefsh."
"Shut up, you lost your rights when you—burp—reached for my portal gun!"
"SHMURG RELFSH SLEMBLUL!"
"Try me, bitch!"
At this point both of my hands were flatly pressed on either side of my head, my face pressed hard against the door, my ear completely cupped against the wood, my glass prop on the floor next to me. What the hell is that? I heard some metal clanking before a loud grunt, and not a moment later, an ear-splitting PEW fired on the other side of the door, followed by a bellowing gargle of agonizing pain. The sound of something heavy slammed on the floor, shaking the door hinge.
"Useless." Rick's voice said solemnly.
Before I was even able to blink, the door swung open faster than I could process. I sucked in a stuttered gasp and froze, horror shooting down my spine. Rick stood over me, making me feel tiny again. There was a slimy, green fluid splattered all over his shirt, coat, and half of his face. Behind him laid a large, grotesque, malformed, green and yellow… creature. It was lying, dead, in a puddle of green, mucky fluid. Rick's eyes widened with a steadily growing ferocity.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
My brain continued to stutter. "I-I-I-I-I heard something and—"
"And that gave you the idea that you could eavesdrop at a stranger's house, w-w-with your ear all pressed against the door like a—burp—creep?"
I felt my face burn. My ears started to feel completely hot. I'm fucked…
Suddenly, Rick grabbed my arm and yanked me into his garage, whisking my head back. He shut the door behind him. "You've seen too much," he grumbled as he sat me down on a chair, right next to the rancid corpse beginning to smolder the room.
"What?"
"D-do you want me to say it again? Did you not hear?" He mocked. "You saw too much. Now I have to erase the last ten minutes of your—burp—memory. I haven't had to do this in years, so I'll have to make a new neuro-cleanser."
What the actual fuck? I immediately got out of the chair. "Erase my memory? What is this, Men in Black? No!"
He let out an amused grunt. "Hah," he looked at me with a snide gleam in his eye, hunching over his table full of wires and gadgets. "The men in black are child's play. I would know—I've met them."
My eyes squinted in utter disbelief. "Who are you? What the hell is that thing? What's going on?"
"I'm Rick Sanchez of C-137, that's an alien that tried to cross me, now it's dead, I travel between dimensions, now sit down, I'm almost—burp—done."
I laughed loudly, obnoxiously, and only then realized there was anxiety saturated in my voice.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, you're frankly insane… But you're not going to do anything to me," I huffed and got out of the chair, starting for the door, walking as fast as I could.
I felt a hand firmly wrap tightly around my wrist and pull me so suddenly that I began to fall backwards. I shut my eyes tightly and embraced for impact, but the floor never hit. I opened my eyes again and realized an arm was firmly across my back, holding me up, while another was hooked under my knees, keeping me stable. Before I was able to turn my head, I was swooped back on the chair, and promptly met with Velcro straps around my wrists and ankles, tying me down.
"L-look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I want this to be over with just as much as you do, okay?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound was made. What's happening?
Rick spun around and reached for his table, picking up the foreign object he was making. He then turned towards me again, his thumb hovering over the white button, pointing it at my head. "You're going to wake up on the couch remembering that you heard something, but you won't, and you'll be confused for a while, but everything will go on as—burp—normal."
I finally forced the words out of my mouth.
"I'M GOING TO CALL BETH AND TELL HER YOU ALMOST DESTROYED THE HOUSE."
His eyes shot wide open, maliciously. I continued.
"So either you have to remake that thing to erase the entire day from my mind, during which I'll scream at the top of my lungs until Morty hears me, or you are going to let me go and we can agree like adults that I will not tell anyone of what I've seen." I stared right back into his ferocious eyes, unwavering, unafraid. I didn't blink once.
He relaxed suddenly, as if a switch had been turned, and he lowered his arm and removed his thumb from the button.
"W-whatever. Go."
My heart jumped, but I suppressed any visible indication of my excitement and relief. I had to remain cool.
"Are you going to untie me? Or am I going to hop this chair out of here? Like…" I trailed off and gave him the bitchiest look I was capable of.
He rolled his eyes. "L-looks like we got a—burp—smartass." He bent over and began to unwind the straps on my wrists, giving me cold sensations every time our skin made contact.
For someone who's constantly working, he's awfully cold…
He moved down to my ankles. His hands wrapped around them as he pulled apart the straps, his head mere inches from my knees. When he moved to the other ankle, I felt the tips of his unruly, wild hair brush across my shin, and shivers were sent down my spine.
No, no, no, don't get goosebumps, Haylee!
"Well aren't you sensitive," Rick looked up at me, his eyes suddenly sly and humorous. It was the first time I've seen them this warm.
Damn it. My face burned, and I knew it was flushing a deep red. Fuck my life.
He paused and turned his head to look at the memory-erasing machine on his table. He looked at it for a while before looking back at me, a sudden cunning, devious look coming across his face. My eyes widened and locked in on his, trapped once again. He then continued what he was doing. He unwound the last ankle strap and then stood up, took a step back, and opened his palms, gesturing towards the door. I was completely free to leave…
After a few seconds, he raised an eyebrow.
Why aren't I getting up?
