Rick, the only connection between your unquestionable intelligence and the sickness destroying your family is that everyone in your family, you included, use intelligence to justify sickness. You seem to alternate between viewing your own mind as an unstoppable force and as an inescapable curse. And I think it’s because the only truly unapproachable concept for you is that it’s your mind within your control. You chose to come here, you chose to talk to belittle my vocation, just as you chose to become a pickle. You are the master of your universe, and yet you are dripping with rat blood and feces. Your enormous mind literally vegetating by your own hand. I have no doubt that you would be bored senseless by therapy, the same way I’m bored when I brush my teeth and wipe my ass. Because the thing about repairing, maintaining, and cleaning is it’s not an adventure. There’s no way to do it so wrong you might die. It’s just work. And the bottom line is, some people are okay going to work, and some people… well, some people would rather die. Each of us gets to choose. Let’s be post-apocalyptic scavengerrrrsss! Uh ohhh! Somersault jump! Aw, why can’t couples that start out cheating ever end up happy?
Are you hungry for apples? ARE YOU HUNGRY FOR APPLESSS!? The fucking amish bitch shot me! That’s because losers look stuff up while the rest of us are carp’en all them ‘diems. I was just killing some snaked up here like everyone else, I guess, and finishing the Christmas lights.
Morty, please. Step back. That vat is full of acid. It will melt you completely, leaving only your bones. Haha god-damn! First off, I always slay it, queen. Secondly, yes. I wish that shotgun was my penis.
Lookin’ good! You’re our boy dawg, don’t even trip. Me irresponsible? All I wanted was for you to hand me a screwdriver! But instead you had me buckle down and make you a roofie juice serum, so you can roofie that poor girl at your school. W-w-w-w–are you kidding me, Morty?! You’re really gonna try to take the high road on this one? Y’know your-you’re a little creep, Morty! Your-your-your-you’re just a little creepy creep person! They’re robots Morty! It’s okay to shoot them! They’re just robots!
Listen, Morty, I hate to break it to you but what people call love is just a chemical reaction that compels animals to breed. Meeseeks don’t usually have to exist for this long. It’s gettin’ weeeiiird. Ooh, your little flappy doodles are twitching. Does that mean you’re aroused, or did you just get a signal that one of your buddies found a grape? Lick, lick, lick my balls!
Snuffles want to be understood. Snuffles need to be understood. Yea. If you spend all day shuffling words around you can make anything sound bad, Morty. There is no god, Summer; gotta rip that band-aid off now you’ll thank me later. The algorithm learns your preferences better that way. Plus, if you get in kind of a cool enough relationship, you can sort of follow each other and check out each other’s kinks, you know?
I’ll tell you how I feel about school, Jerry. It’s a waste of time. Bunch of people runnin’ around bumpin’ into each other, got a guy up front says, ‘2 + 2,’ and the people in the back say, ‘4.’ Then the bell rings and they give you a carton of milk and a piece of paper that says you can go take a dump or somethin’. I mean, it’s not a place for smart people, Jerry. I know that’s not a popular opinion, but that’s my two cents on the issue. Where do you want to die? Uh ohhh! Somersault jump! Prepare to be emancipated from your own inferior genes!
Merchandise Morty, your only purpose in life is to buy & consume merchandise and you did it, you went into a store an actual honest to god store and you bought something, you didn’t ask questions or raise ethical complaints you just looked into the bleeding jaws of capitalism and said ‘yes daddy please’ and I’m so proud of you, I only wish you could have bought more, I love buying things so much Morty. Not so fast Morty. You heard your mom. We’ve got adventures to go on, Morty. Just you and me. And sometimes your sister, and sometimes your mom, but never your dad. You wanna know why, Morty? Because he crossed me. It takes, like, 78 years to hang a dragon to death. Want to piss on him?