10. Close Rick-Counters of the Rick Kind (第1季)【完整台词】

- So, dad, guess what tomorrow is.

- Martin Luther King Jr.

's birthday.

No.

- Well, it might be.

- It is.

Fine.

But also, tomorrow is your one-year anniversary back in our lives.

I'm gonna make you flying-saucer-shaped pancakes.

Oh, t-t-there's no need to do that, Beth.

Regular pancakes are fine.

Oh, my God! Oh, what is happening?! - Happy anniversary, dad.

- Oh, I get it.

Regular pancakes are already shaped like flying saucers.

I-I should be making you breakfast for putting up with me.

You should be making us a whole restaurant.

Nonsense.

We couldn't be happier to have you around.

I just wish I got to see more of you.

Rick Sanchez of earth dimension C-137, you are under arrest for crimes against alternate Ricks by the authority of the trans-dimensional council of Ricks.

- Hey! What the heck?! - Neutralize the Jerry.

Wait! No! I'll -- Dad! - Dad! - Rick! Everybody, relax.

If I know these a-holes, and I am these a-holes, they just want to haul me to their stupid clubhouse and waste my time with a bunch of questions.

Let's get it over with.

Bring his Morty.

- Oh, man.

- Leave my Morty out of this.

You lost the right to have a say in these things when you refused to j-- join the council.

W-w-w-what about Jerry? Will you at least unfreeze my daughter's idiot? Give you anything! I have a rare antique-coin collection! Just don't hurt me! Okay, maybe not antique, but it was a limited minting.

They have little R2-D2s instead of George Washington.

- Our son's been abducted! - You hate me for buying those coins! - Geez, Rick, w-what is this place? - The citadel of Ricks.

It's the secret headquarters for the council of Ricks.

Council of Ricks? As you know, Morty, I've got a lot of enemies in the universe that consider my genius a threat -- galactic terrorists, a few sub-galactic dictators, most of the entire intergalactic government.

Wherever you find people with heads up their asses, someone wants a piece of your grandpa, and a lot of versions of me on different timelines had the same problem, so a few thousand versions of me had the ingenious idea of banding together like a herd of cattle or a school of fish or those people who answer questions on yahoo! Answers.

Hey! What do you know? It's a cowboy version of me.

Geez, you're easy to impress.

Yeah, most timelines have a Rick, and most Ricks have a Morty.

This place is a real who's who of who's you and me.

Turn your boring, old Morty into a-- hot fashion statement with some Morty dazzlers.

Hey, check this out.

Show me the Morty.

Dumb.

Excuse me, sir, is your Morty insured? You know, every year, hundreds of Mortys are injured -- Back off! Not my cup of tea, this place.

I say the point of being a Rick is being a Rick.

Save your anti-Rick speech for the council of Ricks, terror-Rick.

Hey, save your Rick rules for the sheep-Ricks, Rick-pig.

- [beep] me, pal.

- [beep] you? No, no, no, no, no.

[beep] me.

Bring up the holograms.

their own timelines-- an unprecedented Rick-icidal epidemic.

What say you, earth Rick C-137? You think I did this? Why am I the first Rick you pull in every time a Rick stubs his toe? You have a history of non-cooperation with the council.

Yeah, so does the scientist formerly known as Rick.

W-w-w-w-w-why isn't he here in handcuffs? Because he's dead, too! Who else would you have us question? You fit the profile.

Of all the Ricks in the central finite curve, you're the malcontent, the rogue.

I'm the Rick, and so were the rest of you before you formed this stupid alliance.

You wanted to be safe from the government, so you became a stupid government.

That makes every Rick here less Rick than me.

Yeah, murmur it up, d-bags.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got pancakes back home with syrup on top of them.

They're about to hit that critical point of syrup absorption that turns the cakes into a gross paste, and I hate to get all Andy Rooney about it, but I think we all like Fluffy disks of cake with syrup on top, and I think we also like to be accused of crimes when there's evidence! So, as they say in Canada, peace oot! Evidence! Good idea.

Scan his portal gun! Oh, come on.

Don't look at another man's portal-gun history.

We -- we all go to weird places.

Yes, but it appears you alone have been going to the exact timelines and locations in which the murders occurred.

What?! That's Rick-diculous! I'm obviously being set up.

Earth Rick C-137, the council of Ricks sentences you to the machine of unspeakable doom, which swaps your conscious and unconscious minds, rendering your fantasies pointless while everything you've known becomes impossible to grasp.

Also, every 10 seconds, it stabs your balls.

I've heard enough.

Run, Morty! Unh-unh.

Not you.

Aaaah! No! Oh! Oh! Yeah, I'd like to order one large person with extra people, please.

White people.

No, no, no, no.

Black people.

And hispanic on half.

Yes, I'd like to order one large sofa chair with extra chair, please.

High chair.

No, no, no, no.

Recliner.

And wheelchair on half.

They could have gone into any one of these.

- Son of a - Oh, geez.

- Oh, man! - We lost 'em.

Yeah, I'd like to order one large phone with extra phones, please.

Cellphone.

No, no, no, no.

Rotary.

And pay phone on half.

That'll keep 'em busy for a while.

Those guys were wrong, right? Y-y-y-you-- you wouldn't kill yourself -- yourselves.

Of course not, Morty.

How could that profit me? But someone out there is killing Ricks, and the council ain't gonna stop thinking it's me until we clear our names -- by finding the real Rick-killer.

I'm scared, Rick.

Maybe we should go home and stockpile weapons, like that show "doomsday preppers".

Not really my style, Morty.

Besides, your home is most likely swarming with Ricks by now.

All right, listen, Jerry.

If Rick calls, this device is gonna trace his location.

You just got to keep him on the phone for 30 seconds or longer.