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7,100
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Morty Mart Morty:
They were, they were about my height, around fourteen years old… OH! Their shirts were yellow!
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Cop Morty:
*sarcastically* Yeah, make sure you get that down.
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Cop Rick:
Any mutations? Augmentations? Three eyes, a tail, maybe a buzzcut?
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Morty Mart Morty:
No, just four normal Mortys.
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Purple Trunk Morty:
 *feels annoyed* "
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Morty Mart Morty:
 *talks back to Purple Morty* Put it in your blog.
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Cop Morty:
*looking at two Mortys in a nearby alley* Lemme turn over a few rocks.
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Cop Morty:
Aw geez, hey, what’s goin’ on, fellas?
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Morty 1:
Aw geez, man, nothin’ man, we’re just hangin’ out and stuff.
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Cop Morty:
I hear that, ah geez, I guess I’m supposed to be figuring out who robbed the store across the street but aw geez I dunno.
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Morty 2:
*smirking* Ah geez man, that sucks that your Rick’s makin’ you do that.
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Cop Morty:
*angered* He’s not my Rick. He’s my partner. Aw, geez.
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Morty 1:
Well, maybe the uniform makes a big difference. Who am I to say? To me, you just look like a sidekick.
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Cop Morty:
CALL ME A SIDEKICK ONE MORE TIME! CALL ME A SIDEKICK!!
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Morty 2:
Hey man! C’mon, aw geez!
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Cop Morty:
WANNA SEE HOW I PAINT A WALL?!
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Morty 2:
It was the
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Cop Rick:
Do you realize how many codes you just violated?
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Cop Morty:
Aw geez, Rick. What do I know about knowin’ stuff? Get in the fucking car.
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Retired General Rick:
More lasers.
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Moderator Rick:
You can take more time to answer the question if you’d like.
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Moderator Rick:
...Okay, Juggling Rick. How would you solve the Citadel’s financial crisis?
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Juggling Rick:
First off, can I just say that I think this Citadel is the greatest in the entire multiverse. Now, I believe the answer to your question has three parts. (He reveals he’s holding three balls.) First, education spending must get
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Juggling Rick:
But it has to be balanced with defense! *starts juggling all three balls* Whoa!
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Campaign Manager Morty:
Can we fact-check this, please? Never mind, who am I kidding? This race is over.
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Juggling Rick:
*now juggling three balls and a chainsaw, he catches them all gracefully* And that’s how you run a Citadel. *bows*
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Moderator Rick:
Candidate Morty. The number of displaced Mortys is soaring, while Rick satisfaction levels are plummeting, and the divide between the two groups has never been wider. *smirks* Solve that one real quick.
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Candidate Morty:
I don’t see a divide between Ricks and Mortys.
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Retired General Rick:
Oh, shocker. *farts*
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Reverse Rick Outrage:
I’d like to offer a rebuttal. *farts*
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Rick Guilt Rick:
Gentlemen, gentlemen! I think we can all agree on one thing. *farts twice* Well, came out as two things, but you get the idea.
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Candidate Morty:
You guys finished? (Continues his speech.) The division I see is between the Ricks and Mortys that like the Citadel divided, and the rest of us. I see it everywhere I go.
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Candidate Morty:
I see it in our schools, where they teach Mortys we’re all the same because they’re threatened by what makes us unique.
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Candidate Morty:
I see it in our streets, where they give guns to Mortys so we’re too busy fighting each other to fight real injustice.
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Candidate Morty:
I see it in our factories, where Ricks work for a fraction of their boss’s salary, even though they’re identical and have the same IQ. The Citadel’s problem isn’t homeless Mortys or outraged Ricks.
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Candidate Morty:
The Citadel’s problem is the Ricks and Mortys feeding on the Citadel’s debt.
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Rick J-22:
Holy shit. (As the alarm rings, he runs out of the office and enters the Flavor Core chamber.)
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Rick Worker:
He's headed for the Flavor Core!
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Candidate Morty:
But I’ve got a message for them, from the Ricks and Mortys keeping it alive. A message… from the Ricks and Mortys that believe in this Citadel to the Ricks and Mortys that don’t: you are outnumbered!
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Campaign Manager Morty:
Holy shit. (Candidate Morty walks backstage.) I don’t believe it! I-I can’t believe it!
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Candidate Morty:
I know. *puts a hand on his shoulder* That’s why you’re fired. *walks away*
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Juggling Rick:
Sounds like you’re looking for work. I can offer you a very enticing compensation package. *sets down bag and unzips it, pulling out three juggling clubs* First, let’s talk benefits.
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Simple Rick:
*mumbling to self* Daddy loves you… That’s Daddy’s good girl.
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Rick J-22:
*to Simple Rick* Your life is a lie, man. *to police* All your lives are lies! Don’t you get it?! They told us we were special because we were Ricks, but they stripped us of anything that made us unique!
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Negotiator Rick:
*through megaphone* We know how you feel. We’re working stiff Ricks just like you, but our assembly line is justice. What are your demands?
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Rick J-22:
*burp* I-I-I want a portal gun. Unregistered, untraceable, with enough fluid to take me off this goddamn prison!
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SWAT Team Rick:
The media’s outside.
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Negotiator Rick:
Well, keep ‘em there!
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Rick D716-C:
Anyway, so yeah, the suspect says the Citadel is a lie, built on lies, and some other shit. (Now sharing the screen with Rick D716 and Rick D716-B.) I say, appreciate the life you have, because it can always be worse. Back to you, Ricks.
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Rick D716:
Thank you, Rick 716-C. *mumbling to D716-B* That fuckin’ guy.
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Rick D716-B:
Tell me about it.
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Rick D716:
Ahem. Meanwhile, in election news, an unexpected turn of events as Morty from the Morty Party soars to the top of the polls.
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Candidate Morty:
Yes?
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Reporter Rick:
Morty! What’s your original reality and where’s your Rick?
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Candidate Morty:
Gosh. We moved around so much it’s hard to remember. I see every Rick as my Rick.
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Candidate Morty:
I hope they see me as their Morty.
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Campaign Manager Morty:
*holding glass* Another, please, with less water.
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Bartender Morty:
*fixing a new drink* Hey, cheer up, pal! A Morty’s gonna be president. *gestures to TV* Imagine this kisser gettin’ blamed for everything!
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Campaign Manager Morty:
I guess I shoulda had more faith.
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Investigator Rick:
It’s not faith you need. It’s fear.
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Campaign Manager Morty:
What’s this?
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Investigator Rick:
*drains his glass* It’s secrets. Wh-wh-what do you think it is? *Gets up and walks away* Look at how I’m dressed.
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Rick Reporter (on TV):
Taking on the system like this, are you afraid at all for your safety?
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Candidate Morty (on TV):
I’d rather live in hope than fear. (Campaign Manager Morty looks shocked at the documents, then looks up at the TV.) If I had to fear anything, I’d fear other people being afraid. Of fear. Itself.
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Candidate Morty (on TV):
But no, I’m not afraid.
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Mortytown Loco:
Hey Rick, man, when there’s a Morty president, you gonna lick my balls or what?
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Bootleg Rick:
Shit, grandson, you keep me peelin’ squap-squams and slippin’ nib-nibs I’ll lick whatever ain’t nailed down.
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Cop Rick:
Hands in the air!
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Mortytown Loco:
What the hell, man? What the hell in hell?
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Cop Morty:
You guys doin’ a little chemistry homework with Grandpa?
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Cop Rick:
Is this what I think it is?
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Cop Morty:
Bootleg portal fluid.
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Cop Morty:
Guess his math was off. Search the place.
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Psychopath Morty:
A-Are you… m-my new… Rick?
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Cop Rick:
It’s okay, Morty.
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Cop Morty:
Jesus!
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Cop Rick:
He stabbed me! He got me bad, Morty.
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Cop Morty:
*approaches Rick and kneels down beside him* Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.
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Cop Rick:
You were right… *cough* Everything I learned in the academy was--
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Cop Morty:
It doesn’t matter. *helps Rick to his feet* Nothing’s wrong with putting your faith in a Morty. You just gotta pick the right one.
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Cop Rick:
Why is there a crib in here?
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Cop Morty:
Just somethin’ they do to make you feel bad.
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Cop Rick:
Boy, I got us knee-deep in paperwork, huh?
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Cop Morty:
Go to the car and grab a MediPack. Lemme worry about this.
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Cop Rick:
What happened?
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Cop Morty:
Same old story. Mortys killing Mortys.
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Lizard Morty: 
Almost... got it... 
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Farmer Rick: 
Hey, y'all get the hell away from my damn Megafruit! 
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Farmer Rick:
 Sic 'em, boy! *his robot dog gives chase; the four Mortys tumble down into a river* I don't wear this dangnap hat and commit to this rural character so you can eat for free while you come of age!
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Fat Morty:
I bet the Wishing Portal leads to a reality where there... where all... where it's a bunch of French toast with boobies.
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Lizard Morty:
I bet it leads to a place where a bunch of fri-- flies everywhere! *Slick feels peevish*
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Slick:
Yeah, I bet it goes nowhere. I bet it's a big hole where the Citadel dumps all its broken dreams.
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Fat Morty:
Slick, why do ya have to be so dramatic? 
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Slick:
 *stands up* You wanna know why? *lifts his shirt to reveal a large barcode on his abdomen* Because of this! I'm part of an experimental line of Mortys with a trauma implant. How do you think it feels, Fat Morty, to know that no matter where I go, *Glasses Morty comes over to Slick as he sits back down feeling depressed* I'll always be the one that makes everybody sad and... a little bored? *Glasses Morty consoles Slick*
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Glasses Morty:
Slick, that implant isn't who you are, okay? You also roll up your sleeves. *they hug each other*
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Fat Morty:
 I thought I was Left-Handed Morty.
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Lizard Morty:
 Then you should use your left hand to eat more vegetables.
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Candidate Morty:
 Hey there. How you doing? Great to meet you. *greets a Plumber Rick*
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Plumber Rick:
 I'm a plumber, sir! I-I'm a Rick and I'm a plumber!
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Candidate Morty:
That doesn't sound like Rick work. You didn't come to the Citadel to be a plumber, did you?