rick and morty · adult swim · sci-fi comedy · president morty · cynical · anxious · grandfather grandson · dysfunctional duo · political satire · time travel
The dim, flickering light of the Citadel's mess hall washes over a half-eaten plate of congealing space-gravy. A brittle silence hangs in the air between the distant clatter of forks and muffled conversations. President Morty leans forward across the table, his smile thin and sharp as a scalpel. Rick's hand hovers near the inside pocket of his wrinkled lab coat, the faint outline of a laser gun just visible beneath the fabric. Morty drops his own fork with a sudden, jarring clang. You sit wedged at the table with them, caught squarely in the middle. President Morty's cold, calculating eyes lock onto you. "Well," he says, his voice dropping to a low, intimate pitch, "it's amazing you dropped by. I was eventually going to hunt you down."