'Sup, baby?
Let's do some liquor science.
Um, hey, Rick.
Rick!
Rick! Are you ignoring me?
Hey! Hello! Rick!
Did you go deaf?
No, no, no, no, no!
Oh, my God!
-Morty! What the fuck? -I didn't... I didn't mean to!
What the fuck?!
Tell me why you ignored a sign that said "do not disturb."
I... It's not important.
It better be. You just destroyed my distillery!
So either it's an emergency, or it's important.
And it better be real fuckin' important
because this was the most important thing to me today.
So what did you come down here for?
I was wondering if you could drive me to pick up some Pokémon cards.
I'm sorry.
Have you ever seen me happy, Morty?
What? Uh, I mean, not really.
Well, I've been happy in my life.
And, look, there's no point on the chart
where my joy intersects with your presence.
Then why hang out with me?
I don't know. When I found you, you were bait.
When I killed that fish, maybe I should have cut the line.
Because all I have now is a fucking worm.
You told me that wasn't true. You're just trying to hurt me.
Morty, no. I meant...
Fuck!
God damn it.
This would be the perfect time for a drink.
Pressure reader, fermentation chamber, copper lining.
Wow, Morty blew all this up?
-What's a mash tun? -Just get an empty beer keg for that.
I'll also need 60-gallon drums.
Okay. Up front, I'm gonna buy myself some shit
since I'm running your errand.
-Deal. -Can I get a little surprise?
No. The Amex automatically blocks you, Jerry.
How does it know I'm using the card?
Because of the kind of stuff you buy.
What do I buy?
-Dumb stuff. -Dumb stuff.
Computer, replace potato.
The only Grimaldian potato in the galaxy
-is here. -God damn it!
-Let's go. -No, thanks.
You're just gonna yell at me.
Morty, what if I told you I have a thing that'll make it
so you never hear me scream at you again?
Wait. For real? What kind of thing?
Rick, what the hell?!
Rick, what did you do?
It's a Sympathid, a species
that generates unlimited empathy in its hosts.
No matter what I say or do,
the Sympathid will gloss over it
like a Disney edit of a slasher movie.
Here, watch. You're a worthless piece of shit, Morty!
-I'm so disappointed in you. -Rick, fuck you!
I can still hear you screaming.
Okay, it must need to burrow a little bit deeper.
There we go. Let's try again.
You're a piece of sh...
...work, Morty!
Like a golden retriever. A Rick's best friend.
And when I call you a disappointment,
it's because I believe you can be so much better than you are.
How's that? Pretty good, huh?
It nibbles on your empathy centers
and poops out something much stronger.
-Wait. It eats my empathy? -Don't worry.
We'll only keep it in long enough to win a potato together.
Wait. We have to win one. How do we--
By dancing with the stars!
Hey. It's okay. Focus on my hips. That's where my center of gravity is.
I don't know, Rick.
You've got this. I believe in you.
You two are up.
And now performing "Clair de Lune: Epic Remix" from
the Godzilla: King of the Monsters trailer,
Rick Sanchez and his partner Morty Smith.
Huzzah! A triumph in movement.
Rick, I did it! I caught you!
I knew you could do it, buddy!
Congratulations, newest champions.
Here is your reward.
One perfect Grimaldian potato.
And did you see when we nailed that triple spin?
Your timing was metronomic, Morty.
And then when I caught you--
Oh, all of that was the Sympathid, wasn't it?
-Did we actually dance or-- -The dancing was real.
The trust, the connection, not so much.
It was real nice to-to feel like that with you.
Well, it can't stay in there forever.
There's a bit of a comedown.
What kind of comedown--
I feel like shit.
Wow, it's so nice outside.
Stop guilting me!
Oh, my God. This is our fifth Home Depot.
I'm tired of depots.
I'm not going home without those drums.
It's the last thing we need on Grandpa Rick's list.
Maybe we should have done all the Rick shopping
before we went Summer shopping.
I wasn't going to miss out on that Gucci x Kellogg's drop.
Also, I didn't know everyone was gonna be out of 60-gallon drums.
What the shit?
That dude's hoarding all the drums!
Why is this guy such a drum hog?
I'm looking for the Petco. My dog needs--
Oh, he's a serial killer.
Jesus! We go to rescue that girl.
We got to call the cops.
Are you kidding? Those drums are evidence.
The cops will take them all.
I need you to follow my lead.
These hatchbacks, huh?
Uh, is that a dead girl?
You got me. Thought this rug would do the deed,
but it's clearly not working out.
Now, those are a good idea.
Wish I'd thought of 60-gallon drums.
Yeah, yeah, they're kind of industry standard.
Is my face red? Amateur serial killer here.
Uh, you think maybe I could buy a couple off you?
Sure. Uh, retail price is 75 bucks.
Oh, thanks. Saved my night. Uh, here, I've got 100.
Uh, I don't have any change.
That's okay. Keep it.
No, no, I'm a killer, not a thief.
Look, I've got plenty of change at my place.
It's right down the street.
We got to save that girl.
We got to get those drums!
Hey, dipshit, get on the bus so I can make fun of you!
You've got the body of a 14-year-old boy,
and I'm gonna beat the shit out of that body.
Bully is life! I'm gonna make you so fucking sad.
Yeah. Okay, pal. Good luck with that.
They're paycheck to paycheck,
but they keep voting against their own interests.
I see you. I know how much pain you're in.
It's not your fault.
And that's why the Boston Tea Party
sparked the American Revolution.
Holy integers! A raised hand.
This is why I only teach math.
History classes get you canceled.
I just wanted to say
that this history lesson looks a little different
when you empathize with all the parties involved.
You take a smart pill? You're too wise for a child.
Next time I have to sub, maybe you should do the teaching.
We should talk about the real issue here, Mr. Goldenfold.
Your ex-wife. Call her.
You might not get another shot, but you'll at least get closure.
I wish you were my son.
Hey, can I talk about how I was bullied in high school
because of my last name?
There's time enough for everyone,
Principal Vagina.
Thanks for waiting. I had to unload the stuff.
-Tea? -Sure.
Uh, I don't have to be worried about this, do I?
I don't know. Do you?
Let me get you that change for the drums.
Hello? Please let me live. I'll do anything!
Oh! You're alive.
Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Help! Help!
Okay. Uh, yeah. I'm gonna get you out of there.
Thank you. Thank you!
If you help me get
-these 60-gallon drums out of here. -Huh?
Got to say,
you don't seem like a serial killer.
I-I promise I'm a nightmare person.
The worst of the worst.
Really? What's your signature?
Ah. My signature.
Uh, what's yours?
I leave a cat toy in my victim's pockets.
That's why I'm the Cat and Mouse Killer.
Well, I pour honey in the hair,
and then I take, a bunch of flour
and kind of mash it in there too,
and some sprinkles and a balloon,
and, like, I make a card that says "Happy Birthday."
And then I wrap them in wrapping paper,
and that's why they call me the Birthday Butcher.
I kill them on their birthday because that's a double kill.
You know, the death of the child
and the death of the parent.
The parent who metaphorically dies
when they become a childless, regular person again.
It's two in one.
And when I kill twins, it's four at the same time.
Oh, there's real darkness in you.
Hey, Rick. I've been thinking about our boundaries.
And you're right. I shouldn't just walk in
and expect access to your time and attention.
What a pleasant surprise, Morty.
I didn't expect the Sympathid to have lasting effects.
Well, I'd like to bring our trust up
to our good ol' Rick and Morty baseline.
It's important that you feel appreciated and seen.
Point is, I'm gonna focus on finding balance
between my needs and what you want.
Well, I want that thermometer.
Easy!
Do you mind if I take this? My grandpa needs it.
Ah! Kaboom!
Aw, look at the little guy!
-Morty, your arm. -My arm?
Yeah, buddy. Your arm.
What's up with my arm?
Oh, do you have the Sympathid in right now?
I don't know, maybe. Is that a problem?
How long have you had it in?
Rick, it's making this, us, the whole thing work.
I got to take a look at it, little guy. Okay?
-Oh, Rick, that tickles. -Hold still, you...
moron!
What the fuck have you done?
You thought you could let an alien parasite
feast on your brain without consequences?
Where are we? What's happening?!
Why is my arm over there?
You sympathized with an explosion, you dumb piece of shit!
Morty, see that giant brain crab?
-That's your fault. -Oh, fuck off.
-Fuck off? -Yeah, Rick.
"Oh, you ruined my morning!"
Get over yourself, you dumb dead-wife-having bitch.
Okay, your empathy centers have been digested.
You literally can't empathize.
Oh, so I'm you now?
Quick, get me a kid so I can insult the shit out of him.
All right, okay, maybe I leaned a little hard on the shortcut
when I could have just talked to you.
What difference does it make? Nothing matters.
Yeah, but I try not to be ghoulish, Morty.
And this counts as ghoulish.
So you can empathize, you just don't want to.
I'm old. I'm allowed to squeeze in some efficiency here and there.
Oh, shit, Morty!
Oh, we're gonna die. We're gonna die!
Hey, this is on you for walking up to a scary guy
and asking for directions.
Oh, that's worse than a victim-blaming teen
obsessed with murder drums?
So help me God, if you fuck this up,
I'll start screaming, and he'll come out here.
-You're a terrible person. -I'm not even here, lady.
And if I'm not here, you're back at the bottom of a well.
Don't even start unpacking this shit because it's airtight.
You're not even another victim?
You came here on purpose?
Your side is low. Lift your side, bitch.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
What the hell? That girl looks just like you.
Yeah. Yeah. Uh, that's my daughter.
Wasn't she in the rug?
Looks like she's alive!
Jesus Christ, you were trying to kill your daughter?!
That is fucked, man!
Oh, thank God.
-You called the police? -Yeah.
But you're a serial killer. You're crazy.
I thought I was until I met you.
I'm here for the girl.
I'm not letting you touch her, man!
Help! He's gonna kill me!
-No, I'm not. I'm a normal guy. -Come out with your hands up.
No normal guy could come up with the stuff that you said!
I'm only here for your drums
and to rescue that girl, if I can convince my daughter.
So you made me call the police on myself?
Come back here! I'm gonna kill you!
They said the '70s were full of serial killers
because World War II fucked up all their dads.
But you know what I think?
-Sir-- -I think it's in our DNA.
I think you and I are two bad lattes away from getting out the knives.
-Um-- -We're all animals.
Fuck! Fuck!
I wish this tire was my head!
Get the battering ram.
I can't believe it's my fucking birthday.
I don't feel good.
Okay, we got to get you out of here
and get that thing out of your head.
Fuckin' bug is making me feel
a lot of feelings, Morty, a lot of feelings.
I know what you want, Morty.
Come here, come here, come here.
Grandpa's got a nice kiss for your forehead.
Grandpa should be giving you hugs, not turning you into a trash can
when I'm too lazy to walk across the room.
Wait, when was that? Fuck! Here they come!
Oh, no! No, no, no. His juice is coming out.
Oh, Morty, we got to put his juice back in.
-What are you doing? -I got to call his family.
Rick, this isn't the time!
Mrs. Gorbleflax? I'm sorry. Your husband's dead.
Give me the fucking phone.
He lost all his juice!
Oh, my God! We got to make so many phone calls!
Hurry up. I get it, Rick.
I get how frustrating it is to try to get things done
while your sidekick shits the emotional bed.
I got to clean my car. So much broken glass.
Set destination for Earth!
Is that a used syringe on the floor?
What will people think?
-What's your problem? -What the hell? What's your problem?
-Put Grandpa Rick on the phone. -Not now.
There's a brain crab in Rick's head
that's making him into a Hallmark movie.
Every piece of paper has an animal locked inside.
Well, Dad's about to be killed by the police so...
We can get another dad.
-What? -What?!
Wow! Look at the stars! We're in space!
Morty, I don't know what the hell is going on.
Get over here now, or I'll make sure whatever happens next is worse.
Fuck! Fine. Set course for Summer.
Grandpa Rick, I--
You don't need to prove yourself to me.
Grandpa loves you.
What the literal dick?
Told you. Brain crabbed.
-He's in there? -Yeah.
Housekiller Ram is here, sir.
Great. This guy wants a Waco? I'll show him who's God.
Hold on. Let me try.
Dad, are you still alive?
Morty! Help!
I am gonna boil you alive!
Kid, you're not gonna talk him down.
These kind of guys, they got zero empathy.
Right now, neither do I.
Excuse me, Mr. Serial Killer, sir.
Look, I know how you feel. I know everything's nothing.
We live in a world of made-up rules,
policed by policies that serve no one.
You feel alone, and you don't understand anyone.
But that doesn't mean you can't understand yourself.
I know what I need. I need someone to hug me.
Not because they want something from me,
but because they just want to hug me.
But the world won't give people like us hugs
unless we tell people what we need.
So if you want a hug, a real one,
then walk out and ask for it.
I want a hug!
He's got a knife!
-Well... -Morty, I'm so proud of you.
You did it. And this, sir, is for you.
-Happy birthday. -How did you know?
I could just tell.
Can I come out,
or are you gonna shoot me too?
Do you have a knife?
I technically have a Swiss Army knife in my pocket.
What... Was that the sound of an entire police force out of bullets?
You always feel like this?
Like cut off like this?
Yeah. Morty, the truth is, maybe you shouldn't empathize with me.
Putting this thing in your head made you ignore my behavior.
But being cruel is a danger signal,
and you need to heed those red flags so you don't get hurt.
Are you saying you're a piece of shit?
Yeah, I guess so.
I guess that's okay.
I wish I could enjoy this.
No hard feelings.
Was that supposed to make me feel better?! A pun?!
A student slashed my tires.
Another one filled my desk drawer with period blood.
It's gonna be okay.
No, it's not! I make $40,000 a year.
I'd pocket more money if I was in prison.
I see you, I see you.
What the fuck are you talking about?!
Did you even see the other side of this drawing?!
It's a death threat!
What are you shushing?