The Diary

:(3):

        I don't want this. Why couldn't he have just... acted like nothing happened? I'm not going to fall for it. I don't give a shit what the other's say, they know I won't do it. It's wrong, it's damn near pedophilia with the incredible age gap, and it's incestuous. There's no way in hell that many negatives can make that type of relationship work. There's no way that will ever happen. I cannot follow through with this. The little shit has to understand that. I can't. I don't want this.
       What have you done, Morty?

        I snapped the diary shut once more, tucking it between my desk and bed. Yes, I know. Rick Sanchez, C137, hottest baby maker out there, isn't supposed to keep a diary. Well deal with it because he can and he does.

        "Fuck, Morty." My hands pressed to my face, exhaustion wafting over me like a sea of torment. I hadn't slept at all last night, too busy thinking. No matter what I tried, the thoughts couldn't be chased away. No. Just no. Don't do this to yourself.

        I shoved myself off the bed, stumbling to the door. Beth was at work, Jerry was looking for a job, and the kids were at college, growing up. I had never been the sentimental, caring type, but the fact that they were still growing up was a shocker. It really did happen too fast, and I found myself wondering where the hell the time went. 

       "Bar. Booze. I need a drink." My hand dragged along the wall of the garage as I made my way to the cruiser, clambering in and starting her up. On the passenger window, there was an outline from where Morty would always lay his head. I reached in the backseat and grabbed a rag, hesitating before wiping it away. It really just smudged, but it was gone and that was all that mattered.

       Take-off was bumpy, but the ride smoothed out. "No more Rick and Morty, huh? Whatever happened eugh to forever, kid?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

       "One eugh one more, please." I shook the empty glass in front of me, the same way I did multiple times over the course of the last three hours. The barkeep, a hamster in a butt, spoke in a rather deep voice for one of his stature. "You been downing 'em left an' right for a while. You're gon' have to leave, mate." He pointed a small arm to the door, "I'd rather not have to watch your ass dragged outta here, yeah?"

        "Listen," I slurred, trying to sit up, "I-I-I can't go back yet. It eugh it-it just... I eugh I need to forget him, alright? eugh pl- eugh please? I jus... I just need one more before I go."

        "Alright, just one. But then you're gettin' on outta here." He poured another glass, the ice melting slightly, yet clinking against the cool glass all the same. When I'd emptied it, I smacked it down on the table, threw a couple bills, and walked out.

       "I just need to forget about him."