Rick: 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.
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.
Rick: Bring his *burps* Morty.
Morty: Oh, man.
Rick: Leave my *burps* Morty out of this.
Rick: You lost the right to have a say in these things when you refused to j-*burps* join the council.
Beth: Wait-w-w-w-what about Jerry?
Rick: Will you at least unfreeze my daughter’s idiot?
Rick: Wherever you find people with heads up their asses, someone wants a piece of your Grandpa.
Rick: 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 that answer questions on Yahoo! Answers.
Rick: Hey! Check this out!
Doll: Show me the Morty!
Rick: I say the point of being a Rick is being a Rick.
Rick: Save your anti-Rick speech for the Council of Ricks, terror-Rick.
Rick: Hey, save your Rick-rules for the *burps* sheep-Ricks, Rick-pig.
Rick: Fuck me, pal.
Rick: Fuck, you? No no no no no, fuck me.
Rick: You wanted to be safe from the government, so you became a stupid government. That makes every Rick here less Rick than me.
Rick: So, as they say in Canada, peace oot!
Rick: That’s Rick-diculous.
Rick: 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 ever known becomes impossible to grasp. Also, every 10 seconds it stabs your balls.
Rick: Hey, Jerry, it’s Rick.
Jerry: Rick! Hey. What’s-what’s up?
Rick: So listen, the heat’s on, and there’s nowhere left to turn, so Morty and I are just gonna fly my spaceship into a black hole.
Rick: Is that cool with you, dawg?
Jerry: Rick, no! Morty!
Rick: We got it. The call’s coming from, inside the house! Look at his face Look at his face!
Rick: You dummy!
Rick: Can’t believe our daughter married you.
Rick: Hey, it’s a good thing that space outlet had lab coats and your favorite kind of shirt in stock, huh, Morty?
Morty: Yeah, Rick, I-I heard you the first time. You don’t have to keep saying it over and over.
Rick: Well, one Morty’s enough to hide from the bureaucrats. But you get-you get a matrix of Mortys and put them in agonizing pain, that creates a pattern that hide even from other Ricks. Motherfucker. I fiddled with a concept like this once. On paper, Morty. On paper. I wouldn’t do this, it’s barbaric overkill. I mean you could accomplish the same result with, like, five Mortys and a jumper cable…Which I also wouldn’t do! I’m just saying, it’s bad craftsmanship.
Rick: Earth Rick C-137, the council apologizes for its false accusation. And in the way of reparations *burps* for our terrible mistake, we would like to compensate you with voucher for a free replacement Morty in the event that y-*burps*our current *burps* Morty should-
Rick: Uh, guys, not a good time.
Morty: Is it time for arcs yet, Rick? I did a pretty good job back there for a human cloaking device. Saved your ass.
Rick: All right, Morty. Don’t break an arm jerking yourself off.
Rick: What’s that dipshit doing out there? Are you friends with him? You know he eats his own shit, right? Oh my god, this is rich! I’ve got like *burps* ten Ricks to call right now.