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rick-and-morty-script

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What the hell is wrong with you two!? I—I m—I m—I mean you four!?
All Ricks:
Good I'm glad it was painful. You do deserve it! I saw you, you're both all over the damn place. We've been split for twenty minutes and your lives are already scattered to the quantum fucking wind? What the hell do either of you have to be so uncertain about? Your brand of zit cream? Which chair to sit in while I do everything? Come on, spit it out!
All Mortys:
Well you don't exactly make it easy, Rick!
Morty 1:
You make fun of me all the time and now Summer's doing it too!
Morty 2:
You're always picking on me and now you got someone to kiss your ass!
Summer 1:
Me? What about you? Would you get more excited to see me fail? You want Grampa all to yourself!
All Ricks:
Alright, cool it, I see what's happening here. You're both young, you're both unsure about your place in the universe, you both wanna be “Grampa's favorite.” I can fix this. Morty sit here, Summer, you sit here. Now listen, I know the two of you are very different from each other in a lot of ways, but you have to understand that as far as Grampa's concerned, you're both pieces of shit. Yeah, I can prove it mathematically. Actually, let me grab my whiteboard. This has been a long time coming anyway.
Beth:
Emergency, wounded deer coming in.
Vet:
Three. Excuse me, you can't be back here.
Beth:
I'm a certified horse surgeon, and this deer needs medical attention. Nurse, please move that snake.
Vet:
That's my nurse, and as a horse surgeon, I'm sure that you know that deer have much smaller, much more intricate organs-
Beth:
As a vet, I'm sure you know a deer is closer to a horse than you are to a doctor, so let's save the measuring for when our dicks are out, it's time to save a life!
Vet:
Geez...
Beth:
That's odd, this deer's wounded.
Jerry:
Uh, yeah, I was there, you don't have to rub it in.
Beth:
I mean it's been shot. With a gun.
Vet:
May I help you, sir?
Vet:
Look, I don't know what the law says about this, but I took an oath that I would let no animal come to harm. Except when sterilizing, aborting or euthenizing them and also when eating them at almost any meal.
Beth:
In your dreams, bitch! Scalpel!
All Ricks:
So in conclusion, you're both equally mercurial, overly sensitive, clingy hysterical bird brained homunculi. And I honestly can't tell the two of you half the time because I don't go by height or age, I go by amount of pain in my ass, which makes you both identical. Alright, everything resolved? Everybody nice and certain about their position in my world?
All Ricks:
Alright, perfect. Sit still, arms down, I'm gonna do this again, this time, be like Grampa.
Morty 2:
You mean drunk?
Morty 2:
No.
All Ricks:
Huh, that's weird. Oh, my God.
All Summers:
What?
All Ricks:
That son of a bitch is gonna kill me!
All Mortys:
Rick what the hell are you doing?
All Ricks:
Saving our lives. After he takes me out he's gonna be coming for you!
All Summers:
Who?
All Ricks:
Me!
All Summers:
Ahh!
All Mortys:
Whoa whoa!
All Ricks:
Oh God, now there's three of them, we're outnumbered! Get in the cupboards! Wait, don't don't do that, they'll know... wait wait, think about getting in the cupboards but don't really. AAAAH IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT YOU SICK FUCKS? YOU WANNA SEE CHILDREN DIE?
Beth:
You son of a bitch, you don't stop living until I SAY SO!