The Diary

:(6):

       The months passed in a drunken blur, days blending together. It was winter now, not that it mattered. I could hardly separate the actions of one day from another, too busy drinking to forget. Obviously it had worked. I could remember it had something to do with the kid, but not much else.

        As I found myself running from the Galactic Federation for the millionth time since Morty left, I cursed myself for not getting a new Morty. "I should've ju- eugh just replaced him."

        Right now, I could really use a fucking Morty. I had taken some gems from a random ass government, a job for a friend who couldn't do it. I vowed never to take a job from him again, already planning out a way to get back at him.

       I ran as fast as I could, shots firing all around me. I felt heat in my left calf, stumbling slightly. "Dammit!" 

         I reached both hands into my pockets, whipping out the portal gun and a random weapon. I fired behind me blindly, punching in coordinates. "C'mon, c'mon already!" I shook the portal gun, begging it to go faster.

        Finally, a portal appeared in front of me. I hopped in, urging it to shut before anybody else could slip through.

        I heaved a sigh of relief, watching the portal closing up. Nobody could fit through that. 

       But I never counted on bullets. As the swirling green mass closed in front of me, white hot heat pierced my right shoulder.

       "SON OF A BITCH! FUCK!" I fell to the floor, cradling my arm momentarily. I shoved my left hand onto the edge of my desk, hoisting my body from the floor. I dug around, searching for my gauze or something like that.

        "Fuck!" My bandages weren't anywhere to be found as I threw everything from my desk to the floor. Of fucking course everybody's gone. I'm gonna fucking die here.

        I found myself stumbling through the kitchen, digging in drawers of miscellaneous shit and praying for a miracle. While digging around, a form crossed the driveway, a taxi pulling away. They don't look familiar. Must have the wrong address.

       Growling, I crossed the kitchen, knocks ringing out. The door was easily yanked open and I glared at the individual. "What?" I growled, watching them jump in surprise. Their hood blocked a majority of their face, so I really couldn't tell if it was male or female. I heard a squeak before they pushed past me. "Who the eugh fuck are you? What the hell are-are you eugh doing just barg-barging in?"

       The mystery person set a bag on the floor near the table, slipping their shoes off. Once their hands reached the zipper of the coat, pulling it down with an annoying sound, they replied, "Wouldn't think you'd wanna remember, anyway, you dick." 

       My breath hitched in my throat as they removed their coat, setting it with their shoes.

       "Mo-Morty?"

       "What's up, Rick?" His voice had an edge to it, something I'd never really heard with such force before. There were so many differences.

       As I stood, gaping, I tried to figure everything out. His hair was styled differently, longer and straightened slightly. Morty had toned up, no longer a smol string bean. And his voice was lower.
       His eyes looked darker, as though more empowered. The bags under his eyes suggested he was tired, probably from the long trek over. 

        He sounded more confident. The way his jeans hugged him, his shirt pressed tightly against him flat stomach and firm chest... there was something about it all.

       He looked like a younger version of me.

       Morty was hot now.

       Christ almighty. 

       "Y-Y-You changed, eugh Morty." My eyes were wide, trying to take in the sudden changes. I'd seen him months ago, but I never thought he'd change like this just from college life. He sneered, grabbing his bag and hoisting it over his shoulder. Yes, he was Morty, but he wasn't. He was too different to be Morty anymore.

       "Yea, well, I met somebody. Daemon. He's responsible for all this." He waved his free hand over his entire form, smirking now. He turned and ran upstairs, most likely taking back his old room.

       I continued clutching my arm, "He-He doesn't eugh even bother to-to ask what the hell happened. He's not Morty anymore." I continued my search for gauze, only having two minutes to look before the door opened again.

       "Grampa Rick! What happened!" Groaning, I turned to face Summer. "Welcome eugh home. Wanna help?" I knew I sounded pissed. I knew because I was. 

       In an instant, she dropped everything and ran around. We found the gauze and she helped patch me up, despite me constantly insisting I was a grown ass man who could do it himself. 

       Morty came back downstairs, his nose stuck in his phone and a stupid grin on his face. "Hey, Summer, what's up?" Summer screamed, running and tackling Morty, "That's a great welcome home! YOU LOOK DIFFERENT, MORTYYY!" I watched as he flinched, grunting with the force of his sister's hug.

       "Yea, well. I met somebody." He looked back at his phone, flipping through something before showing Summer the screen. An image of Morty hanging on some dude's arm was portrayed on the screen, the guy's tongue pressed against Morty's neck. "His name's Daemon."

       Summer gawked, her jaw nearly hitting the floor before she smacked Morty's back, shouting "Get some!" 

       The duo laughed and sat on the couch together, flicking through the channels and settling on Ball Fondlers, like they used to. "Grampa Rick! Come sit with us!" Summer looked so grown up and professional now, looking more and more like her mother as she patted the couch, staring at me expectantly.

       "No thanks, kid. I-I-I gotta... eugh I'm just gonna go upstairs." I slipped off, limping up the damned staircase and into my room.

       I pulled out a box, digging around until I found a syringe filled with a similar serum to what had fixed Morty's broken legs once upon a time. I jabbed it into my arm, then into my thigh, watching it run through the needle and into my system. I stared momentarily before chucking the metallic object at the door, the wounds healing up and no longer bleeding like a bitch.

       "Who the hell eugh is Morty anymore?"