Steve, I just got a weird e-mail.
Did you buy us airline tickets? Aw, shoot.
It was supposed to be a surprise.
I wanted to thank you for letting me live here all this time, so I'm treating the family to a vacation! Steve, you're so sweet.
- Thanks, uncle Steve! - Best uncle ever! Look out, world.
The Smith family is going to Paris! Yeah! Awesome! Rick, I don't like glowing rocks in the kitchen trash! Well, I don't like your unemployed genes in my grandchildren, Jerry, but life is made of little concessions.
I-- You know what? You're gonna land on your feet, Jer.
Some company out there's gonna thank their lucky stars they hired my little brother.
- Who the [bleep] are you? - My goofy brother, Steve.
He's been living here almost a year now.
Are you losing your mind? Hey, someone's been spending too much time around glowing rocks.
Am I right? - Oh, my god! - Call an ambulance! - Oh, god! Steve! - What the hell, Rick?! Will everybody just relax for a second? There's no such thing as an "uncle Steve".
That is an alien parasite.
- But I've known him my whole life.
- No, you haven't, Jerry.
These telepathic little bastards, they embed themselves in memories, and then they use those to multiply and spread out, take over planets.
It's-- It's disgusting.
- Steve wasn't real? - He's a real piece of shit.
This is a big one.
Somebody probably tracked it in last week on the bottom of their shoe on a piece of alien fruit.
- Someone? - Get off the high road, Summer.
We all got pink eye because you won't stop texting on the toilet.
But uncle Steve taught me how to ride a bike! No, "Steve" put that memory in your brain so he could live in your house, eat your food, and multiply.
We could be infested with these things.
So we got to keep an eye out for any zany, wacky characters that pop up.
Ooh, whee! Whatever you want, Rick! We're here to help! Thanks, Mr.
Poopybutthole.
I always could count on you.
All right.
There's six of us, and that's it.
Me, Morty, Jerry, Beth, Mr.
Poopybutthole, and Summer.
Maybe you got the first one in time, Rick! Can't afford to chance it.
Dad, why does our house have blast shields? Trust me, Beth, you don't want to know how many answers that question has.
Ooh, gosh, it feels claustrophobic! Reminds me of that time we all got stuck in the elevator together.
Y-- remember that? After "The Hulk" musical? Jerry, buttons don't work better if you hit them harder, and foam fists don't make you strong.
I know.
Friends make you strong.
I watched the same musical you did.
Why couldn't I bring my portal gun? Why did all the drinks have to be extra large? Oh, the hulk.
I just got that.
Just pee your pants.
I did it the minute we got stuck.
Oh, oh, yeah, yeah, shame me.
At least when I'm disgusting, it's on purpose.
Oh, y'all, we're gonna be fine.
I've always been here for you guys, and I always will be.
Somebody call for repairs? Yay! Cousin Nicky! It's me, cousin Nicky.
I'm walkin' here! I mean, I'm not.
I'm crouched in the elevator shaft, but hey, I'm walkin' here! It's true.
We really do get into some crazy situations as a family, mostly when we're cooped up like this.
Hey, maybe Mr.
Poopypants is right.
Let's get some fresh air.
Come on, cousin Nicky.
You heard Rick.
We have to stay quarantined until we know that there's no more of these things.
I hear you, Morty.
Back in Brooklyn, we got a sayin'-- "We're walkin' here!" Nicky, get-- Oh! What the? Cousin Nicky was a parasite?! Six, Morty! There's supposed to be six of us! If there's seven, then that means somebody's not real.
But how did you know it was Nicky? I guessed.
That's why I aimed for his shoulder.
So we can't trust any of our memories now? Nicky was the reason we found that old Nazi submarine.
Did that not even happen? Well, of course it happened.
Now that I possess the mighty staff of rah-gubaba, the world will tremble before the Fourth Reich! This is the last time I ask you for help on my history final, Rick.
Hey, we got a word for Nazis back in Brooklyn, pal.
I'm comfortable being called a Nazi.
You think there's some other word that will hurt my feelings? Yeah.
Think before you talk shit.
Rah-gubaba, help me kill America! Mr.
Beauregard! After due consideration, I have elected not to retire.
Yeah! Oh, thank god! Now, I believe someone has a final exam to attend.
Set a course for Morty's high school.
Perhaps I'm biased, but if that story never happened, then I wouldn't still be the family butler.
Dare to dream.
Wait.
And if Mr.
Beauregard wasn't our butler, it's safe to say the family'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble.
No! Don't flashback! You're just gonna make more swelling.
- Just relax.
- Don't worry, Jerry.
We called the fire department.
You know they won't come here anymore.
Marmalade is served! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Oh, whee! I guess I take back what I said about British cuisine.
Take that, Summer! We're trying to sleep.
I don't want to go to the dance alone.
Then perhaps you shouldn't.
Aww.
Mr.
Beauregard.
- Shall we, master Morty? - We shall.
Oh, wait, don't leave without letting photography Raptor take a picture.
Everybody stop remembering! These parasites are like bed bugs, and every flashback is another mattress.
Look! There's only supposed to be six people in this house.
But there's always been 10.
No! Uh, the fact that I wrote this number down means that there's four parasites.
You sure about that, Rick? Begging your pardon, master Rick, but I seem to recall a great deal of confusion surrounding that number.
All right, there's six of us.
And that's it.
Me, Morty, Jerry, Beth, Mr.
Poopybutthole, Frankenstein, Sleepy Gary, photography Raptor, Mr.
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