A Final Season of Rick and Morty

25 -- RMR

Morty, Beth, and Summer were sitting at the dining table, picking at an alien soup-like cereal as Jerry gets up with his last piece of toast. Morty doesn't seem to care and continues explaining, "Yesterday was... We just came back tired, and grumpy. Then this morning, Rick yelled at her, pretty much just because she said the L word—"

"I..." Jerry interrupts, "I'm going to lose my breakfast..." blocking his view of their moving cereals. He gets up. "I'll be in the den..." and holds his mouth tight to prevent vomiting or screaming like he saw a mouse.

Beth stops him with her eyes, "But what if it makes us sick or attacks us. Don't you want to protect us against Rick's stuff?" intentionally trying to appeal to his only source of strength.

"I can't turn this off Beth," pointing to his stomach, retching a bit, "I—" retching again "—No one can just turn things off, otherwise no one would have problems," and he scurries off.

Beth grumbles, disappointed but understanding it's true.

The three of them each stare at their bowl of freaky stuff, stuff that they couldn't tell if it was growing and evolving, or simply absorbing the milk like Magic Grow compressed sponges.

"Maybe it's not food..." Summer suggests. "Maybe he just hides it there. Maybe it's to punish anyone who steals his food."

Beth mutters, "Morty said he saw Rick eating it before, so..."

Summer says, "I still think it could be a kit to use your stomach as a farm for something."

But while Beth and Summer each have their own battle of mind-over-grumbly-tummy, Morty was staring through his bowl, still absorbed in his own thoughts, and takes a bite as if it were normal cereal. As if it were air.

Summer sees his bravery and takes a bite, then Beth soon follows. Their faces contort into several shapes, each thinking 'EWW, oh god, that's new, not bad, actually wow, wow, I wonder if this is how bacon rum ice cream tastes.'

"So anyways..." Morty finally continues, "That's why breakfast wasn't made."

Summer takes another bite, surprising herself with how good this disgusting slimy thing tastes, "Well, then, way to go Morty," she congratulates, "getting grandpa laid. And you gave us an excuse to try his new cereal, or whatever this is. You rock." She gives him a congratulatory rough nudge in the arm, for him, not that she cared about Rick so much.

"Or... Well... I hope I didn't get one of them killed. Or everyone. It's a—It's uh... long story."

Summer gripes, "Well maybe now he won't be such a dick. To you at least."

"I—I don't know, I don't think anything could change that," and Morty slumps to rest his chin on the table to merely stare towards Rick's room again.

"By the way," Beth says, "if you don't want to finish that, I will."

"Why?" Morty says, without eye contact or sulking any less. "We should save some for Rick. It's his."

"Well, I'd be an idiot if I didn't think these weren't tentacles or alien pubic hairs, but that aside, this tastes better than anything any human could cook and he's never shared it once. I'm a little pissed off about that, (on top of everything else,) because he clearly disrespects domestic work and people that do it—

"(You mean women,)" Summer mutters over her.

"—yet he's had ever opportunity to bond with his daughter by creating new cooking tools together, but no," eyeing Morty, almost jealously. "He just leaches off me, and Jerry, and you. So, he owes it to me. To us."