It was a slow Wednesday morning in the Smith household. Sunlight spilled lazily through half-drawn blinds, casting long beams across the kitchen tiles. Beth was already on her second glass of wine, eyes skimming a veterinary journal she barely pretended to read. Jerry hummed a tuneless melody, blissfully unaware of the awkward tension that perpetually hung in the air like a fart no one wanted to claim.
At the center of it all sat Richard. Clad in a simple black turtleneck, he sipped his plain black coffee, his gaze locked on the holographic tablet floating in front of him. Dozens of windows hovered around him, each streaming real-time analytics, theoretical equations, and investment forecasts for industries the world hadn't even discovered yet. On paper, Richard was untouchable—holder of over fifty PhDs, the mind that revolutionized artificial intelligence at age ten, and the architect of a business empire whose GDP overshadowed most nations.
"Y'know," Beth muttered, casual but laced with venom, "most people with your qualifications don't live in their mom's house."
Richard didn't look up. "Most people spend ninety percent of their income trying to impress others. I prefer optimizing my access to free breakfast while minimizing unnecessary emotional interactions. This house meets both criteria."
Jerry beamed proudly. "That's my boy! Down-to-earth billionaire genius."
"Multi-trillionaire," Richard corrected flatly. "Billionaires are just upper-middle class to me. And need I remind you, your last attempt to mingle with 'high-class people' ended with a universe-breaking threat in our garage."
"At least I didn't destroy the entire house," Jerry snapped.
Richard blinked, caught mid-sip. He slowly turned toward Jerry, startled. "You... snapped back with facts." He stood, eyes wide in rare wonder. "You've grown. Rick! Jerry is evolving! I did it! I finally enhanced his intelligence! It only took twenty-two years!"
Summer groaned dramatically. "God, you're insufferable."
"And I also pay for your yacht party, your entire imaginary school reputation, and all the filters in your social media app. Show some respect, Summer," Richard shot back, his brief joy already evaporated.
"Oh my God, this is why your girlfriend left you," Summer muttered. Richard opened his mouth, then closed it, stunned. 'Even Summer's getting good at roasting. What the actual hell is happening? It is always trouble when these 2 can show signs of intelligence.' He thought as he waited for Rick.
Just then, the garage door hissed open, releasing a puff of pressurized gas as Rick Sanchez stumbled in. Goggles askew, lab coat flapping, reeking of ethanol and motor oil—he looked every bit the mad prophet of science. "Wubba-lubba-dub-dub!" he bellowed, arms raised like a preacher at a rave.
"No," Richard deadpanned instantly. 'Here comes the trouble,' Richard thought.
Rick stared at him, then both burst into laughter. Beth groaned into her wine glass. "Good morning to you, too, Rick," Richard said dryly. "You're early. What reckless invention or existential threat are we tolerating today?"
Rick slapped a glowing pink vial onto the kitchen table. "Morty's gettin' laid!" Morty, quietly spooning cereal nearby, choked. "W-what?!"
"Rick, don't joke about stuff not even infinity could solve," Richard said. "That's like saying Jerry is competent. Or that your marriage still has a pulse, Beth."
"Hey!" Jerry snapped, catching yet another stray. No one acknowledged him.
Rick leaned close to Morty, eyes wide with excitement. "You like Jessica, right? Your love life's been drier than a neutron star's butthole. So I cooked up a love potion. Synthesized from a Vesperian pheromone matrix, bonded to your DNA. One drop and she'll be all over you—like Jerry on unemployment."
"I'm literally sitting right here," Jerry grumbled.
Morty stared at the vial like it might explode. "S-so I just give this to her and she... likes me back?"
Richard snatched the vial from his hand, inspecting it with a raised brow. "You didn't account for environmental variables, did you?"
Rick scoffed. "Of course I did—ish. Flu season's nothing. It's DNA-locked to Morty. It's safe."
"It's going to mutate," Richard said, already bored. "You bound it with airborne bonding proteins. You're going to Cronenberg the planet. Again."
Morty blinked. "W-what's 'Cronenberg' mean?"
"Google it," Rick muttered. "Anyway," he continued, waving off the concern, "just drop it in her drink. Teenage romance, unlocked. What could go wrong?"
"With this family?" Richard said, sipping his coffee. "We swing between 'too smart' and 'Jerry.' Guess where Morty lands."
"I believe in Morty," Rick grinned. "And if he does end the world, we'll just hop to another."
"You can. I'm a singularity, remember? One-of-one. Can't multiverse-hop." Richard shrugged. "Educational chaos has value. I will be siting in a conner observing morty screwing up, which I will be 25 quantme mine"
"I will accept that bet," Rick said with a confident smirk and added, "Be ready to go into the quantum world to get me those mines."
Morty held the vial like a sacred treasure. "Thanks, Rick... I think."
Rick slurped something neon green from his flask. "Go get her, tiger."
{Later That Night – Harry Herpson High School}
The gym pulsed with awkward teenage energy. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. A tacky banner above the DJ booth read: "Get Sick With Love – Winter Dance 2025." Morty lingered near the punch bowl, palms clammy, eyes locked on Jessica across the room. She laughed with her friends, radiant and unreachable.
"Okay... okay..." he muttered, unscrewing the vial. "Just one drop."
A few feet away, Richard stood in the shadows, arms crossed, dressed in a suit that belonged more in a lab than a dance. His gaze scanned the room, expression unreadable. Tiny drones buzzed around him, unnoticed, collecting air samples and cross-referencing viral data. Morty dropped the potion into the punch and exhaled. Easy.
Jessica approached the table just as someone sneezed nearby. A cheerleader. Then another. Then ten more. Richard's brow furrowed. "Oh," he murmured, amused. "Here we go."
Jessica sipped the punch. Her pupils dilated. She turned toward Morty, her movement mechanical, precise. "Mooortyyyy," she purred, suddenly inches from him. "I love you."
Morty froze. "W-wait, what?!" Richard sipped his coffee calmly from the corner. 'Rick, you insufferable bastard. You made it too strong. At least dilute next time. Not that I care, but now look what you've done.' He thought.