Naturally, it was a trap.
Just as Morty's fingers touched the bag of chips growing from the tree, a gunshot suddenly rang out behind him. A microchip was fired into the back of his neck, followed by a surge of electricity that sent smoke billowing from the boy's body as he collapsed onto the grass.
"Deedle-lee da-da!"
Accompanied by a cheerful little tune, an old man emerged from behind a nearby tree. His face looked like a potato, his eyes were equally lifeless, his eyebrows formed a single blue-gray bar, and there was still drool around his mouth that he had not wiped away.
He wore an orange-red vest and hat in the classic Hunter getup. His prey was Mortys, though the other Ricks were also using every trick they had to capture these grandsons.
He threw out a hunting net, caught the Morty who had been shocked too weak to resist, and dragged his prey across the grass.
"Let me go! Rick! Let me go!"
Morty struggled inside the large net. This Hunter Rick was one of the prison guards, and without a doubt, he was a genius just like the other Ricks.
After the spaceship crash, these Ricks had quickly adapted to the local environment and evolved into all kinds of terrifying Predators.
"Burp! No, this is your punishment for trying to eat wild snacks." Rick slung his hunting rifle over his shoulder and let out a satisfied burp. "You knew it was a trap, right? Chips don't grow on trees. Though those chip bags are mostly full of air, just like your head."
"No, you have to let me go. It's not that I wanted snacks, it's—" Morty remembered that Mermaid Morty was still waiting for him. He needed food and water, or he would probably die.