Following the defeat of the Galactic Federation, the Council Of Ricks, and successfully gaining control of his family, Rick Sanchez commemorates his 'victories' with a nighttime of drunken competition across the multiverse. However in his drunken st...
Rick freaking Sanchez, the man who makes even the word miracle useless. He had done it this time. But can you blame him? They are the ones who pushed his buttons. I guess they didn't expect him to push right back a thousand folds.
With the Intergalactic Federation gone, and the Citadel of Ricks powerless, Rick had basically killed two birds with one stone, well, three if you can count Jerry as a stone. Rick finally managed to make her daughter so desperate for his presence that she finally broke up with her own husband.
With that, Rick finally took charge over the family, and with Beth about to spiral down the path of depression over the family's torn state, Rick has now replaced himself as the de facto patriarch of the household, meaning no limits, no house laws, and most importantly, he could finally have Morty for any and all future adventures, no matter how dangerous.
So after scaring his grandson away by yelling the season 3 premier in his ear for god knows wtf reason, Rick finally had time for himself.
"Okay Garage, let's wrap this up, take Jerry off the family whitelist"
"Won't that make him subject to the strike zone of the home security defence system?"
Rick froze and began to stroke his chin.
"Wow, I totally didn't think about that..."
He noted.
"In that case, increase damage to certain death"
"You rotten devil"
The garage quoted.
"You're not the first to call me that and you won't be the last, at this point, it's basically a compliment"
Rick retorted as the computer shut down. He pulled his sit from his desk and sat down in front of his desk.
"Man am I awesome"
Rick complimented himself while yawning.
"You know what? Yeah, I am awesome, I'm a freaking beast. I can do what I want, whenever I want. The universe is my toilet, and shit in it I will. If gods exist, I'll be the God of god's. I mean just look at it, in a few months, people are gonna be yelling for an old dipping sauce because of me.
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I'm gonna make the entire crowd worship pickles, and by that I mean me.
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