Beth was sitting in her car outside St. Equine's. It was still dark, but the sun was now beginning to rise. She checked the time on her phone. 5:45 A.M. With a sigh, she drank some of the extra large coffee she was holding.
"At least the sunrise is pretty. Not pretty enough to be up this fucking early, but pretty just the same. I wonder what's going on at home. How Dad's doing. By now, that transforming sickness must have cycled through at least a few more diseases. Morty's there to take care of him. Oh, and Jerry too, of course. And Dad's as tough as they come. I'm sure they're fine. Still, I wish I knew more about these things." Beth said to herself.
After a few seconds of thinking and a bit more coffee, something occurred to her, and she corrected herself, "Wait, maybe I know more about this than I think." She grabbed her phone again and quickly dialed a familiar number.
"Hello?" Space Beth answered instantly.
"Hi. Hope I didn't wake you. It's stupid early here, and I have no idea if it is where you are, too, but we have a bit of a situation here on Earth." Beth began to explain.
"Situation as in alien invasion? Situation as in Dad woke up some monster that's been sleeping beneath the planet's surface for a few centuries? Other? I need details. What happened, and how is it Dad's fault?" Space Beth inquired. She was in her space station apartment orbiting Earth, and was studying a wall of weapons, ready to choose the correct ones for whatever mission her other self was about to describe.
"Actually, he didn't do anything, per se. He's sick, and he says it's nothing to worry about, but I can't help thinking that means I should worry more."
"I wouldn't. The way that man gets around, it's doubtful this is his first intergalactic STD. He's probably only even mentioning it to brag. And if that's not it, then I assume he's just more hungover than usual." Space Beth scoffed.
In spite of herself, Domestic Beth laughed a little before replying, "No, it's not that. Well, maybe a little of the second one, but that's not the main issue. What do you know about Gloppydropian Mimicking Disease?" Space Beth raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.
"I know that if Dad's telling you that's what he's sick with, he's lying to you." she answered flatly.
"What?! How can you be so sure of that?"
"1, it doesn't exist anymore. Dad, well not our Dad, but you know, a version of him – eradicated it almost 20 years ago. 2, even if it were still around, humans were never one of the species it was contagious to." Space Beth explained. She then asked, "Out of curiosity, what kind of symptoms was he trying to blame on *Snort!* Mimicking Disease?" She was clearly amused by the situation.
"Well, all I noticed was a lot of sneezing and a nasty cough, like he has a bad cold…because that is exactly what he has, isn't it?" Beth facepalmed as she came to that realization. Her badass sci-fi counterpart burst out laughing.
"Just to clarify, are you laughing at him, or at me for believing him?" Beth asked.
After taking a few more seconds to get herself under control, Space Beth answered, "A little of both. Naivete is not normally a quality I admire, but it's cute on you. Mostly, I am laughing at Dad thinking he could pass off a cold as Gloppydropian Mimicking Disease." She barely held back another wave of laughter.
"Seriously, what was his plan with that, and how did he expect to explain when the symptoms never changed? Why is he faking having an alien disease it is literally impossible for him to have, to hide having a cold?"
"I do not have answers to any of those questions. I do know Summer was onto him, and that's why Dad sent her off with a huge list of errands like… going to Space Walmart." Beth answered, wishing her coffee were wine instead. Space Beth had started laughing hysterically again.
Once she'd recovered her composure, she asked, "You want any help?"
"When I thought this might be something serious, yes. Now that I know without a doubt that it isn't, I don't want to waste your time. Dad, Jerry and Morty can handle this on their own for the day." Beth replied.
"I wasn't planning to drop everything and run to Earth to bring Dad chicken soup. But maybe Summer could use a hand with that errand list? You said it was long. I'm not doing anything today. If I go split the list with her, she'll get home to keep an eye on the guys faster." Space Beth offered. Earth Beth nodded appreciatively.
Back on Earth, Morty was walking back to Rick's room, announcing, "Good news, bad news time. Good news is, I found a thermometer, and this almost full bottle of cold medicine. The bad news is, it's expired by like, two years. But the internet says it's still safe to take. It just maybe won't work quite as well. Or it might work too well, whatever that's supposed to mean? People on this one website were arguing about it, and it got pretty heated. I guess people really will be assholes to each other over anything online, huh? Then there was this one guy just screaming in all caps about how viruses aren't real in the first place…"
Morty's rambling cut off as soon as he saw Rick. Now dressed in only his boxers and a stained tanktop, he was sitting in the middle of the bed, two blankets wrapped haphazardly around him. He was currently taking a blood sample from his left arm. There was a microscope in his lap, and he was surrounded by petri dishes and empty vials.
"For fuck's sake. Rick, what do you think you're doing?" Morty asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
"I had an idea while you were gone, Morty! If I shrink you down and inject you into my bloodstream, you can negotiate some kind of peace treaty with the virus. Or just, y'know, nuke it. Obviously I'll *Achoo!* send you in armed to the teeth." Rick exclaimed.
"What?! Rick, no. I'm not doing that."
"I figured you'd say that. Truth be told, I like the nuclear option best. It'd be quicker and more effective. But I admit, it might hurt a little more than I'm willing to deal with today. So, fine. Negotiation it is. *COUGH!* Obviously, I'll have to make the germs sentient first. Otherwise, what good is talking to them going to do, right? That is going to add some time, but it should only be a few extra minutes." Rick continued to rant. He removed the blood sample needle from his arm and emptied the contents into one of the petri dishes.
"No! You said yourself you can't think straight when you're sick, and this proves it! Making your cold germs sentient so you can inject me into your bloodstream to talk them into leaving you alone? Do you hear yourself, Rick? Of all the cornball, low budget sci-fi TV show ideas… It'd be different if you were like, dying and that was the only way to save you. But we're not doing all that over a cold! You're gonna take some medicine and go to sleep until it's time to take more, and, ummm, whatever else normal people do when they're sick. Got it?"
Rick looked back and forth between his grandson and the project in front of him a few times, thinking it over. Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he grabbed his portal gun and used it to send the microscope and other equipment back to the garage.
"Fine! We'll do this your way, Morty. *COUGH!* But I still say my way would be cooler." he reluctantly agreed, scowling at Morty. He wrapped the blankets tighter around himself and pulled his knees up to his chest.
"That's more like it. Okay, Rick. Here you go." Morty sighed. He carefully filled the medicine's accompanying measuring cup to the top line and tried to hand it to Rick.
"I don't want it." Rick grumbled, waving it away.
"Seriously?! Why not?" Morty asked, exasperated.
"It looks gross. I'm too stuffed up to tell, but it probably smells gross, too. And I know it's gonna taste like shit. So no, I don't want it." Rick explained, stubbornly turning his head. Morty barely held back a scream.
"Are you kidding me?! I thought it was gonna be something about this stuff being inferior to anything you'd make, so you were like, insulted by it. But it's just that? Of course it's gonna taste bad. Doesn't all medicine? Just swallow it quick and get it over with." He held the cup in front of Rick, who shook his head and continued refusing to take it.
"Of course this would be the one thing in the whole damn universe you won't drink. Rick, come on! It's for your own good. Stop acting like a 4 year old and take it!" Morty argued, climbing onto the bed and shoving the small cup in front of Rick's face. Rick opened his mouth to argue further, which Morty took advantage of by quickly pouring the medicine in before the old man could react.
Furious, the second he'd swallowed it down, Rick began sputtering, "Ugh, that's even worse than I thought it would be! *Cough! Cough!* What the hell, Morty?! Not cool! You can't force strange liquids down people's throats like that!"
"You think I enjoyed any part of that?! And don't be so dramatic - alI I did was make you take some cold medicine. Also, there's no way that's the most disgusting thing you've ever swallowed." Morty pointed out.
"Well, if nothing else, I can't argue that part. Still, that shit is foul. Yuck." Rick complained, still looking disgusted. He grabbed his flask and took a swig to wash away the taste. Morty considered saying something about that not being a great idea, but quickly decided it was a losing battle he wasn't interested in.
Instead, he said, "See. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Rick just glared at him again, so Morty continued, "I'm sorry it's gross. But that medicine should help you feel better. And that's what we're trying to do, right, buddy? Get you back on your feet." An indignant shrug and sniffle was all he got in response.
"You uh, you need anything, Rick? If you're good and just gonna sleep, I might *YAWN!* go back to bed, too. Or I can hang out here if you want."
Rick thought it over before saying, "Morty, g-give me that medicine bottle." Morty handed it to him, figuring Rick wanted to read the ingredients, maybe get a sample to synthesize more. Or see for himself just how expired it was. After giving the bottle a quick once-over, Rick proceeded to chug the rest of the contents.
"Rick, no! What the hell?! You can't do that! Stop!" Morty yelled, trying to take the bottle back. Of course, it was already empty at this point.
"First you want me to take this disgusting medicine, now you don't want me to take it? *ACHOO!* Make up your mind, Morty! I'm in no mood to try and decipher mixed signals today." Rick snapped, shivering badly. He was still cold even with the two blankets, and the medicine did taste absolutely terrible. He quickly drank the rest of what was in his flask to get rid of the taste. Morty's look of horror and disapproval increased.
"Not like that, Rick! You're not supposed to take it all at once! It's dangerous! Aw geez, do we know the number for Poison Control? That cannot be good for you, and… what am I saying? If anyone else pulled a stunt like that, they'd definitely need to go to the hospital. But it's you, so it's fine. Probably." Morty answered, going from panicked to weary as he thought about the situation and who he was dealing with. Rick just shrugged, clearly not sharing Morty's concerns.