Rick: Okay, listen [belch] up. I’m going to keep this short, not because I think you won’t listen – I know [belch] you won’t. But I can’t legally let you sub-moronic idiots go without reading some boi-[belch]-ler plate so you can get on with the rest your insignificant, miserable lives.
Morty: But we… we’re not miserable Rick! We want to go on leave and…
Rick: Of course you do, Morty! If you’ll let me proceed. So [belch] where do I begin? Well first off…sex–er “partner assisted PT.” If you’re going to get schwifty, always use a condom. If you don’t use a condom, your hormones will be your undoing, sending you on the downward spiral of disappointment. Inevitably a resentful stripper soon-to-be-ex-wife who will use your power of attorney to sell your Mustang to run off an elope with Jody and perhaps most annoyingly kids! Kids make you combat ineffective, Morty!
Morty: I didn’t make my parents combat ineffective, Rick!
Rick: Twenty percent right as usual, Morty. Anyway, Immigrants. Stay away from them. Even Mr. Meseeks knows that avoiding the coyotes is in your best interest. If not, I have to send the Meseeks out looking for what will prob-[belch]-ally be your corpse! Have you ever tried to explain to a Meseeks that you know Joe Snuffy couldn’t be found alive and it’s okay for him to die now?
Rick: Purely rhetorical, Morty. But nevertheless, didn’t think so.
Morty: But I don’t want to mess with immigrants, Rick. I just want strippers and to get laid!
Rick: Pay attention Morty! Some of this may save your life…at least one of your lives anyway. Not that I care. That said, DUIs. Not worth your time. I’ve been to most of the realities on this end of the finite curve, and let me tell you, in almost every one of them, this weekend one of you will die in a DUI, one of you will catch your wife pulling a train and kill yourself, and one of you will catch a dose in a whorehouse in Dallas. Even in Cronenberg world.
Morty: I really hated Cronenberg world Rick.
Rick: The Cronenberg, Morty, would be very disappointed to hear you say that. Finally, if you’re out at the club and some girl named Tammy starts getting up on you, don’t buy it. You’re not that hot.
Tammy is obviously Foreign Intelligence for the federation. She’ll look really good Morty! Better than McNuggets drenched in Mulan Szechuan dipping sauce! But’s it’s [belch] a trap Morty! A trap! Just like the strippers and marriage! You let old Drill Sergeant Rick at the problem and stay away from her!
Remember: Nobody’s here on purpose. Nobody belongs anywhere. Everybody’s going to die. Now get the fuck out of here. Wubba-lubba-dub-dub! That’s the safety brief! Good talk everyone.