Original subtitles

Thank you.

Calm down, Morty. I'm almost done collecting Citadel records. I am calm.

fidget spinning has a passive aggressiveness to it. I can be calm and

You're a million years late on that thing anyways. Didn't the Egyptians

those? Fashion's cyclical, babe. I'm retro.

Ah, fuck, shit.

Hang on, we gotta find a place to land.

Whoa, there's people living here? Are they refugees?

Clones. Biotrash. I thought everyone got sucked back to their reality of origin.

That happened, right? Exactly.

The Citadel was basically a factory farm for spare bodies. That portal reset

sucked them all back.

Oh. We don't want to stop here. This is the Morty part of town, if you know what

I'm saying.

Let's touch down over there.

All right, Morty, grab the sealant. I'll make this quick.

Damn, this is nice corn.

Thank you. Whoa.

All right.

Take it easy, old timer.

I've heard about loners like this, Morty. What are you doing on my land?

Trying to leave it as quickly as possible.

Leave faster.

Jesus. I was fixing it when you cocked the gun.

See? Done.

Fuck. Hillbilly. What's that got to do? Morty, I can't imagine anything worse

than having to know.

My whole Saturday was a fun day, too.

I was thinking about ways not to do.

I laid down my weapon for what I've done.

But too late to hide, feet too soft to run.

People say I'm the luckiest.

Closed. Get the fuck out of here.

Sorry he says that every time you come in. Mm -hmm.

Widgets, skidgets, fertilizer.

Hey, hey, Doc.

Did we salvage any more of those processors?

We did, but they're on a pretty high shelf, which I...

You're the worst.

Just trying to leave with my stuff.

Wait, you live around here?

We don't need to get acquainted.

Got that right, motherfucker.

that gene lock yet? Boss is getting antsy. This is the one.

Ah! No!

Oh, God! Oh, God!

Ah!

Fiddlesticks!

What a haul!

The ship smells like Morty farts now. Where's my money? Odd job, Rick. Take

upstairs.

You like football?

What? Just making small talk. Long elevator.

Well,

now. My associates here tell me you rustled up quite the...

Our job. Your normal job, please.

I can monologue while we wait.

You ever wonder why I'm an overweight southern railroad baron? See, I was

to be the mascot of a Citadel gumbo chain.

Get your mouth around it.

But Big Rick's gumbo hut is trash now.

Whole Citadel is trash now.

And there ain't no pecking order amongst the trash.

What a utopia.

It will be once I have the requisite modis. We can all be kings here, Mr.

Trafica. Good luck with that.

Don't go spending it all in one place now.

He'll say degenerate.

No accent.

you doing here get the fuck out of my car i'm coming with you to rescue our

friends i'm not going to rescue your friends i'm going to kill those guys who

stole my shit yeah exactly it's the same guys it is the same guys flush us into

space or keep driving fucking morty hey man you're the one who built this truck

with a back seat if you die you die

change. Some change is good.

We had our own town, man. We were free.

Hey, you know, my Rick wasn't so bad.

He used to take me and Summer to the park. No, he didn't. I have the same

memory. It's fabricated. Taking me and Summer to the park.

And I said it all. You Ricks don't have many original ideas, do you?

And you're the arbiter of taste?

Cool haircut.

Stay out of my way. Stay out of mine.

I'm gonna head to a reality where no one has facial hair. In the land of the

blind. When I get my hop, I'm off to a dimension where racism is cool.

Idiot, you gotta have bigger plans than one jump.

Oh, yeah?

And what's your big plan?

You mean after I keybag your mom?

I don't even have a mom.

That's where the barrel is going if you don't start talking.

Uh, your butt or my butt?

Give me back my friend!

Jesus, man!

We fight it here.

You were always a good customer. Yeah, you always had exact change.

Ready?

No medical degree, but I've read enough to know one's an okay death and one is

terrible.

Flames aren't getting any closer.

Looks like it'll definitely be the bleeding out one.

Bye,

pal. Off to the big med school in the sky.

Hey! Hey!

Ow! Sorry. They make me do this to bully me.

Oh, shaming.

To clarify, I'm sorry about the needle prick. Overall, I agree with what

doing here.

Our arcade, Morty?

Richard Sanchez.

When my associates here told me that strange little mordy town had themselves

pet rick with a farm full of cloning equipment, my interest was piqued.

equipment? You see, what we have here, gentlemen, is a friend.

In the guise of a papa.

Why, not only is this little Henley boy not a clone, he's also the Citadel's

former head of Mordy replication.

Oh, a Mordy cloning scientist?

The best Mordy cloning scientist. And from the looks of these boys, he's still

got it.

Richard, Richard.

And I thought I loved my job.

This is such a head fuck. Break out the bubbly, boy!

Get your mouth around it. That place had good curly fries. Oh, you been there?

So you're not even a clone?

What the fuck are you doing with your life?

I don't belong anywhere else, kid.

You don't want to be an evil Citadel guy, so instead you live next to a bunch

cloned Mortys on an asteroid?

Wow, you're so different.

Never said I was a good guy.

I hate you.

Oh, now.

That ain't no way to talk to your pa.

to see it.

Now, we don't need to be so unpleasant with each other.

I'd love to offer you your old job back.

I'll take it. Hit the switch.

Don't do it! Shut up!

It's great.

I'm no better than any of you. I'm just self -loathing about it.

See there? I told you he was good, B.

All right, now.

I think that's a... large enough.

Look how you turned out. Don't give yourself credit.

Wait, Rick. What are you doing?

Not giving myself credit.

Go make some memories that aren't fabricated.

you just took.

My plans were always bigger than one jump. No need for that.

Drop the accent.

Whatever you say, man.

That's your real voice?

Ah, shit. A death gun?

An escatoir.

wannabe. That's the freedom of life as a clone.

You wouldn't know.

Someone made you with pay -ucks. All those sweaty parts and nibbly bits.

You disgust me.

It's over, man. Your dream's about to be gumbo. Get your mouth round

it. You know me.

you're under the delusion of something called the Oter myth.

Truth is, any big project that's made in collaboration, lots of delegating, I

sort of gave notes.

I don't want to hear this! Good news, you don't have to.

Au revoir, son.

What do we do now?

Go home?

We decide where home is. For each of us.

That old homesteader wanted us to make memories for ourselves.

No Morty Towns or Citadels or huddling together.

It's time to grow up.

Hey, is your Rick around?

I think my Morty dropped his fidget spinner down here.

I'm telling you, I checked everywhere else. Morty, I swear to God, if I check

between the seats of our car. I checked between the seats.

Oh, shit, Morty. Check it out. I think this little dude killed his Rick. You

really think so?

Yeah. Look, there's a grave. He buried him out front as a warning.

Damn, ice cold.

Is that a second, smaller grave?

Burnt down his house, too. Starting to think we should have stuck around.

Jesus. Christ, I didn't kill... Found it.

I told you I check between seats.

When you're right, you're right, Morty. Told you I admit that kind of stuff now.

And I can admit you're right about that, Rick. You're really changing.

Assholes.

Did you get any of that?