fun in space | rick sanchez

20. pickle rick

"So, should we refrigerate you?" Cas asked, furrowing her brows.

"No," Rick replied. "I mean, you know, Beth could put me in her purse or a pocket or Cas could, like, carry me around. If you really need me to go," Rick suggested and Cas noticed Morty now looking up at a syringe tied to a string with scissors and a timer.

"Nobody needs anything. Okay, it's fine," Beth said, trying to force herself to just shake it off. "I mean, you should just stay here and focus on not being a pickle."

"Hey, Rick? Why is there a syringe of mysterious fluid hanging directly over you?" Morty asked, "Also, why the string attached to it running through a pair of scissors attached to a timer? And why is that timer set to 10 minutes from now, exactly when we would have left for therapy?" Morty finished and Cas gave Rick an expecting look, just waiting for what he'd do to get out of this one.

"Well, Morty, if you must know, the syringe is completely unrelated to this discussion and, therefore, it does not warrant further explanation," Rick lied.

"Good to know," Cas smirked and clenched her fist, green wisps coming across her skin. The scissors cute the rope and with another flick of her wrist, the syringe was in her hand. "Now, we shouldn't be late. Let's go," Cas smiled and put the syringe in the pocket of her leather jacket.

"W-w-what are you doing there, Cassie?"

"How would a syringe full of unrelated liquid help the current pickle you seem to have gotten yourself in, darlin'?" Cas flashed him an innocent smile. "I mean, that would be a rather cumbersome situation if the syringe was the fall on you, huh?" Cas asked and she could tell Rick didn't appreciate those two puns either.

"Can't argue with that," Rick agreed through his teeth.

"Great, see you later, cute-cumber," She grinned in response, ignoring Rick's calls for her to be careful with the syringe as she got in the car.

"God, I hate therapist offices. They all told me the same thing when I was kid. You know, daddy issues, abandonment issues, mommy issues, etc." Cas shrugged, picking up a magazine off the table in front of them. "Never thought I'd be going to therapy with my 60 year old boyfriends family, though. At least that's something new," She pointed out as she opened the magazine.

"Yeah, how is this even therapy family if dad's not invited and Grandpa won't come?" Summer asked.

"And what's courageous about eating a hot dog?" Morty added, looking at the poster on the wall.

"It's nobody's choice to be here, you knobs. The family was told to get counseling by your principal, even though it's not the family, or even Cas, that was huffing pottery glaze in the art room and desk wetting in history class," Beth blamed. Cas winced at that, not finding that throwing the blame their way was the accurate solution to the problem. However, her eyes widened as Morty's math teacher walked out of the door, to which Cas had just noticed the plaque on the door that said "Family Therapist, Coprophagia Recovery."

"Oh, the Smith family, minus a dad and plus one more," Mr. Goldenfold greeted. "You're patients of Dr. Wong, too?"

"Temporarily - by order of the school," Beth responded.

"Me too, how long have you all been eating poop?" Mr. Goldenfold asked and Cas' eyes widened at that.

"We... have never... eaten poop," Summer said awkwardly and Cas nodded in agreement with her.