Watching Rick pin Jerry to the floor and pummel him with his fists, Morty had countless words starting with p that he wanted to send this looooooooser's way.
Sure enough, Jerry. Loser. King of screwups. Smith.
The absolute ceiling of screwups among higher primates.
Rick had just listed the names of everyone who wasn't a parasite, but because of this guy suddenly recalling something—
Even Morty himself, whose memories had been clear before, now seemed to have at least some extra memories layered over them.
Looking at his delicate wife beside him and her pair of adorable kitten-like eyes, Morty instinctively thought she had to be a parasite. But when he recalled their happy times together—
Her endless tolerance and affection for him.
And how, when he was recovering from injuries after adventuring with Rick, she had cared for him in every possible way.
Especially the two of them wandering aimlessly down the street beneath the bright sunshine and passing breeze, talking freely about their wonderful future—where they would settle down, how many children they would have, and which of the two old geezers would die first.
That series of sweet memories filled Morty's eyes with a trace of heartfelt love.
With a wife like this, why would I need to think about all that annoying stuff?
Isn't this the sense of belonging I've always wanted...?
I'm not alone anymore. I have my own little family!
He thought about how he had come to this unfamiliar world and constantly faced an unknown future and unknown fears, until he had met, gotten to know, and fallen in love with her by chance.
That woman in a white dress, smiling like a flower, had stood amid the cold wind and drizzle. Having just been dumped, she had looked like a puppy abandoned