Rick and Morty

Who's ready for Rick's famous spaghetti?

I love Spaghetti Thursdays!

Oh, my god, Rick, it's like it's better every time!

Hell yeah, you like that?

That's a some good spaghetti!

Grandpa Rick, I'm skull emoji but words.

Sauce? More sauce? Oh, we gots the sauce!

Dad, you had a job interview, right?

Bombed it! But it's nothing a little Bolognese won't cure!

Dad, this noodle is so tender.

A little spicy. A little sweet. A little spicy. A little sweet.

It's so nice that we're talking, you know

all... talking because we're a family and everything

and this a good time we're having.

- Is there any more? - Seconds? Thirds?

We spa-gots as much as you can spag-eat!

Rick, I gotta know, like, what's the secret ingredient...

God, no! Why? Why?

No. Why is it always this shit with you?

Of course, it's a person!

Rick, why couldn't it just be spaghetti?

I'm just going to say this as simply as possible

and let you not believe me.

On this planet, people that kill themselves

turn into spaghetti.

- What? - I know

you're a visual learner so follow me.

Oh, hi, Dr. Hotpenis.

You're not supposed to bring patients...

Hi, Michael, it's okay.

This alien boy has space cancer

and his dying wish is to see deader people

so he can feel superior.

All you had to say.

Check it out. Murdered.

Oh, gross!

Car crash.

- And suicide. - Rick, I don't...

Wait, what is that smell?

You know god damn well what it is, baby.

Get in here.

Oh, don't do that!

You've been doing it for weeks

every spaghetti night!

Come on, Morty. Choo-choo plane!

- Gross! - Come on!

God damn!

- Telling you! - Why? How?

Their cortisol increases

the starch content in their bloodstream

changing their intestines

into one long spaghetti noodle

and the surrounding tissues

into a spicy-sweet hematoma

that we would call a Bolognese.

But it takes a lot of cortisol

like a suicidal amount.

It's almost better cold!

Wouldn't go that far, don't be a hipster.

Excuse me.

Are you two eating a corpse?

It's okay. It's spaghetti.

Morty, they don't know what that is.

I'm calling the police!

Before you do that, just...

No, Rick, stop!

What? Where am I?

- In a morgue, eating bodies! - We're what?

- Stop using that thing! - What thing? Who are we?

We were just leaving.

All you had to say.

Whose car is this? Whose sun visor is this?

What's a sun?

Jesus, sorry, that's always embarrassing.

But you see what I mean now?

Best spaghetti in the galaxy

and it's a hundred percent guilt-free.

I wanna know their names.

Who? Michael? Coroner Number One?

The people we've been eating

every spaghetti night!

Do you even know their names?

I'm not giving you

your spaghettises' names!

You've found my line, Morty!

I... I find that ghoulish!

I... I want their names or I'm telling Mom.

And no more spaghetti night!

You suck! Where's the thing?

- Where's the Men in Black thing? - Names!

And if you know the fuckin' names of your spaghettis, that's it?

- This is done? - It's all I ask!

You won't get overwhelmed with even more guilt

and then demand to go to their fuckin' funeral?

Just their names and then I'm done.

I promise.

I fucking hate you.

I just want to pay my respects!

The only reason you're still alive

is because you don't turn delicious when you die.

Thank you for that moment of silence.

I'd like to open it up to the congregation.

If anyone would like to say a few words about Lawrence?

Or another moment of silence.

Jeez, no wonder he killed himself.

Okay, let's...

- Oh, for... - Hi.

I just wanna be honest about something.

After Lawrence died, we...

ate him.

Wait, we're not werewolves or anything.

We come from a planet, where, to us, when you guys kill yourselves

you turn into what my planet considers food.

Spaghetti. It brought us together.

Lawrence brought us together.

It just felt wrong not having anyone know that.

But he was delicious. I... I hope that helps make it right.

That should do it, buddy.

Everybody enjoy your closure.

So we were eating... people.

I... I'm afraid so.

They were so... spaghetti-esque.

Yes, they were.

It's going to be hard to...

Hard to put out of your mind.

Yes, which is why I thought it best to keep you all in the dark.

So, Morty ruined spaghetti night.

- Correct. - Summer! It was people!

It was people, Summer.

Which is disgusting. And not cool to lie about.

Correct.

But, it should also be noted, to Morty

that it's not cool to tattle.

- Dad! - They were delicious!

- So keep eating them! - We can't now!

Because of you!

Sorry. Morty. That was terrible parenting.

You did the "right thing."

We are technically very happy to be better informed.

First, octopus, now this.

Have... have we thought about just giving up

and joining the fascist half of the country?

- No! - Just saying, they get to do more.

Well, I guess I'll go to my room since everyone hates me now.

Sorry. Good night, Morty.

- Good night, Morty. - Good night, Morty.

Hey, big boy.

Are you depressed? Ooh, Mama likes depression.

Oopsie, I spilled my milk.

Now we're both sad.

I'm a bad family therapist farm girl.

Hello, Morty Smith.

You are invited to 41-Kepler B.

You know it as Spaghetti Planet.

You're not in trouble. We just want to talk.

Can that thing support my weight?

It should.

Okay... up here?

Oh, geez.

- Ever heard of a ramp? - This is a ramp.

Hi, Morty, I'm the president of this planet.

I saw the video of you at that funeral.

- I'm sorry. - Don't be.

It was quite the... revelation.

Would you mind showing us?

This is the "spaghetti" of a person that took their own life.

They did consent to be eaten.

Okay.

Yeah, amazing as always. Not gonna lie.

And would you consider yourself a typical Earthian?

Well, on Earth, it's considered inferior to be typical

so we're all very special and different

but we definitely all do like spaghetti.

All eight billion of you?

Morty, how would you feel about being a kind of ambassador?

A liaison between our worlds.

Now hold on.

I... I went to that funeral because...

Because you felt bad.

Because you didn't have permission.

Show him.

My name is Tanya Radcliffe.

I've been living in pain for years.

I've lost all my loved ones, I've got nothing.

So when doctors told me

I could finally have the right to die

if I agree to be dinner for some alien boy

I simply said, "I hope I'm delicious."

God damn.

And would you say that makes it taste better?

It makes it go down a lot easier.

Oh, I like that.

Maybe it's time we allow some people

the right to die and be delicious.

Please feel free to finish Tanya.

- It is what she wanted. - No. No I... think I'm good.

Thanks.

Tanya, you really were tasty.

Actually, can I take her to go?

Who's ready for more ethical spaghetti?