The yellow T-shirt clung tightly to his skin in the rain. Morty wiped the water from his face and looked around.
"Deathstroke Rick, I don't see a women's restroom, but there's a presidential election polling station here."
Not far from the park path was a main road lined with shops and pedestrians. Of course, the most conspicuous thing was the polling station plastered with Stars and Stripes. Plenty of people were lined up outside, looking impatient.
"Idiot, that is the restroom! Isn't it still a choice between two? Just like restrooms are divided by gender, they're all shit. Wherever they are is a restroom, dumbass. You need to see through appearances to the essence. Don't forget, you're in a virtual world!"
Deathstroke Rick sounded furious, but every Morty was a masochist. The more Rick insulted him, the closer he felt to him.
After all, they were both versions of his grandpa.
"Stop yelling at me. I'll go in already, okay?" Morty covered his head miserably as he headed toward the polling station. But his eyes darted about as he asked, "You're not tricking me into doing something weird, are you?"
"You're overthinking it. You know, thought breeds heresy. Do you want to be burned by a flamethrower, like the Vietnamese in the rainforest?" Deathstroke's voice drifted over, accompanied by the clinking and clanking of metal parts being assembled.
"No, that's too dark! I've got some amnesia, and my head's a mess, but I keep feeling like I was burned a lot of times in the past."
As he spoke, Morty successfully entered the polling station. The people in line protested his cutting in, but after he viciously kicked several of them in the crotch, he got inside without issue.
Looking up, he saw that aside from the tables and chairs