- Yay!
Wait, what's that?
Do I hear something coming down the chimney?
Rick Santa-chez here with gifts from across the multiverse.
- Oh, my God. - Yes!
For Jerry, an extradimensional version of Miracle on 34th Street.
Two hours longer! They fixed my only problem with it!
For Beth, a framed photo of the two of us from a universe where she wasn't murdered as a child.
Oh, my God. Dad.
And for Space Beth, the same thing because we don't know which of you is real.
I am also touched.
Summer, check your Venmo.
- Money? How did you know? - You're 17.
And last but not least, for my number one number two.
Morty you asked for this a long time ago
and I finally went far, far away enough to get it
since shipping would have killed me.
- You didn't! No fucking way. - No fucking way.
- Does it make the noises? - Of course, that's like half the fun.
- Awesome! - Whoa, do not turn that on!
Don't worry. Morty's only going to use this very honorable weapon
in designated Jedi zones, like the garage right now.
Holy crap. I hate to say it, but I wish there was something to attack.
It's too bad nobody bought a cart of fruit!
- You beautiful son of a bitch. - Grapefruit!
Mango! Papaya! Watermelon! A second papaya!
Another watermelon! Strike me down.
- What? - Strike me down!
- I'm not striking you down. - Strike me down.
I'll become a pile of clothes like that old guy.
But you'll die, you're drunk.
- Here, I'll do it myself— - No!
Wow, you did it! Just like Obi Wan. Rick?
You can come out now. I'm serious. Did you, like, become your clothes?
Are you T-shirt Rick now?
Psst. Over here, butt fart.
- Oh, that was awesome! - Right?
Rick, you know you've been so great the last couple months.
The family's so happy, I'm really grateful.
Aw, thanks, kid, but less talk more melon slaying.
Heads up!
Whoops!
- Shit, open it, Rick! - Let me do it!
- Get up— Fucking move! - Hurry!
Oh, whoa! Whoa, whoa!
You dropped it perfectly vertical, Morty. Perfectly fucking vertical!
- I got it, I got it, aw! - Oh, shit.
- Shit. - Elevator. Elevator.
We gotta get ahead of it. Level ten?
No, no, no, 15.
Wait, we live over a cool sushi spot?
- Domo. Domo. Not now, though.
Okay, we overshot it. Good problem to have.
- Still doing the eel roll? - We should've gone to ten.
No, Morty, not ten.
- Morty, wait, wait. - Cut it out.
What the fuck?
- Rick? - You dumb fucking robot.
- You had one job. - That job was to be a good grandpa.
- I go where the kid goes. - Don't touch me.
How long have I— You said you weren't a robot.
It killed me to lie to you.
But it would have literally killed me not to lie to you.
Betrayal. Betrayal on all sides.
Don't overreact.
I replaced myself towards the beginning of that whole Knights of the Sun thing.
I'm no good to anybody till I resolve this arch-nemesis crap.
You're hunting the guy who killed your wife?
You don't have to rub it in, that's why I removed myself.
I've become the thing I hate. It's like a Netflix drama down here,
and I don't mean an accidentally good one, I mean a regular-ass Netflix drama.
I did you a favor.
You gave him a fucking lightsaber for Christmas?
It's almost like someone designed me to be 22% more thoughtful than you.
I'm shutting you down.
Don't you dare. You've done enough. The whole family.
Everybody loves this thing.
Oh, good.
Your lightsaber's probably run out of sub-basement
- by now, so, congrats. - Unbelievable.
I can't believe you tricked us into loving you.
Not because I like it, because it's my job.
- Thank God I don't have to do it anymore. - The fuck you don't. It's Christmas!
Get up there and trick everyone into loving you more.
Let's get our miracle on.
- Speaking of miracles... - What, bored of your toy already?
Just, uh, excited to spend time with my family.
You know me and Morty, we're all about those streets.
Would you look at this? New York City.
Wow, who would've thought it had so many streets?
And avenues too. Oh, gosh.
Hey, sir. Sir, have you seen any miracles?
- My little girl, she's sick and she needs a miracle.
The Presidential Blackhawk is landing on the lawn.
I'll get rid of him.
You got something to tell me, Morty?
Merry Christmas?
Who dropped a lightsaber perfectly fucking vertical?
Oh, shit.
Guess what. It's a mile deep and still going.
- You know what's in the hilt of that? - Kyber crystals.
Okay, nerd. Whatever it is, when it hits the core,
it's gonna cause a chain reaction that destroys the Earth.
Itis?
Why are you still playing with laser swords? You're 14.
You know all that Star Wars shit is silly, right?
Lucas promised a new trilogy for decades, then, when he delivered, fans turned on him
and started giving any knucklehead with nerd cred a shot
and churned out these irredeemable cash grabs.
Half pretend to be satisfied, half shit on it
and in the end no one's happy. Do you know why, Morty?
Because when you start with a turd, you end with a turd.
Why you crying? Where's Rick?
He's busy. And I hate him.
And I lost my lightsaber and now it might destroy Earth
and you're unloading all this Gen X hatred on me for wanting one
- and it's the worst Christmas ever. - Okay, Morty, Morty, Morty.
I shouldn't have talked to you like you're a UN official.
Let's get your embarrassing lightsaber back SO you can swing it around instead of kissing girls.
Whoa. You found me. Found me. Found me.
- Security breach. - What the hell?
- Unauthorized presence. - What the fuck, Morty?
This morning, a real life version of George Lucas's trademarked lightsaber
was dropped point down and is whomp-whomping its way to the core of the Earth
where it will blow us all up.
Touch my shit and die.
That's not a threat from me, that's how advanced my shit is.
Impressive lair, Sanchez.
Got about 600,000 permits?
If I wanted the government in my house, I'd buy an Alexa.
- I invited him in, Rick. - Yeah, well, they can leave.
I'll destroy it.
- We're gonna retrieve it. - That's stupid.
What kind of grandfather are you? It's Christmas, for God's sake,
and you look like Phil Spector wiped his ass with Randy Quaid.
If you're gonna help, help, otherwise step aside.
Merry Christmas to me.
- Merry Christmas to me! - To me.
Anyhoo, I'm no expert but it seems we've got a...
A certain amount of time to build a big drill ship.
A big drill ship?
That's some loud stepping aside you're doing.
- Let me destroy the thing. - You've destroyed enough.
Ooh.
Oh, I see someone found my Told-ya-so Dispenser.
Oh, my God, look at all these streets.
We got 34th Street. 35th Street. Oh, 36th Street coming too.
Oh, it's a miracle. We got miracles on 37th Street.
38th, and don't even get me started on the avenues.
I can't believe they cut this.
Mm-hm.
Dad. You've been so great lately. I'm almost afraid it's not real.
You're not a robot, are you?
Ha. Put it this way, honey.
If I am, I'm a robot programmed to love you very, very much.
Aw.
Will this drill down fast enough to get under the lightsaber?
Yep. It will be under the lightsaber in one hour—
Wait, it's lower now. Oh, right, it's moving.
You fucking idiot. Get out of here.
Good luck finding a good scientist on Christmas.
I'm president of the United Assholes.
All right, genius, I give you permission to make our drill ship faster.
I'm not touching that thing. I'll get neurotypical cooties.
I have son-in-laws more imaginative.
All right, just destroy the lightsaber.
Thought you'd never ask. Not true, I knew you'd ask.
- What is that? - A second lightsaber
with an Al-controlled gyroscopic rocket in the hilt.
- You had a lightsaber? - Oh, did you want one?
What a terrible gift that would have made.
Vertisaber, state your prime directive.
- To stay vertical. - Then show 'em how it's done.
Affirmative.
- Yeah! - Americal
Maintain verticality, Vertisaber.
Affirmative.
All right, looking good. Stay on target.
Uh-huh.
Progress report.
- Vertisaber? Do you copy? - Do I have to respond every time?
Excuse me?
I'm designed to stay perfectly vertical,
not to give constant affirmation. You do your job I'll do mine.
I control you.
Okay, I'll just turn off my brain and you can do that, bye.
Fucking kidding me? Shit.
- Trajectory's drifting, sir. - Where is it coming out?
Looks like Italy, sir.
That could've been worse.
Well, uh, that is definitely not amore.
- Way to show us how it's done, Rick. - Whatever.
- Italian prime minister on line one. - Put him on hold.
We can pin this on the Saudis. This is something they'd do.
They may as well have done it. They did do it.
Oh, there's another miracle at the end of the intersection
of 401st Boulevard and 7,000 Street.
That's a miracle per block so far,
Okay, even I'm nearing my limit.
Let's play a Christmas game.
Oh, um, have you guys ever played "Are You a Robot?"
Each person here has to decide whether or not they're a robot.
- Never played that. - Yes!
Don't say it out loud. 'Cause if you're a robot,
you're not allowed to say you are, that's the rule.
That's the horrible, painful thing about being a robot.
But you do have to answer everyone's questions.
And it's their jobs to decide whether you are or aren't a robot
because if you are a robot, you can't say.
You're not allowed to say at all. I'll go first. Uh, question?
Ooh! Uh, are you a robot? Can I just ask that?
You can. But don't forget that if I am, I have to lie even though I don't want to.
- More questions? - Can you feel things?
Oh, fuck yes. Yes. That's the problem.
If I'm a robot, which I'm not, don't forget I have to say that,
but yes, yes, I feel so much, I'm filled with love for certain people,
but also filled with shame
if I'm programmed to deceive them, but that's a big if.
- What's your skeleton made of? - Titanium.
- You're a robot. - Yes.
No.
But that's what a robot would say.
So you get the idea.
- Whoo! - Suck it, bitches!
This is fun. I've always been afraid to let my guard down
and have stupid family fun like this
but Grandpa Rick is making me learn to be vulnerable.
- Me too. - Right on.
Your derivative drill ship is now faster than a lightsaber.
- You want front or back? - Who says the two of us are going?
- You didn't want to— - For fuck's sake, bye, good luck.
- Don't blow up my planet. - You act like you're the one
- that got stabbed in the back. - I am the one.
You wanna know why I replaced myself in the beginning of that Knights of the Sun thing?
I said don't take the fucking sword and you were like, "Whatever,"
like I'm our neighbor Gene or David Arquette or something.
You called me boring. I've become dog shit to you.
That's what happens when you let people in and they stop respecting you.
They touch your shit, they kill your fucking family.
Trust him. You're going to learn the same fucking thing.
I am not going to kill your family, Morty.
That means a lot.
In case this goes south, any last words, Morty?
I've never been old enough to vote,
- but when I am, I'll vote for you. - Thanks, Morty.
Every vote counts.
I can have them legally change your age.
Uh, no, I'm not in any hurry to get into that shit show.
Approaching the lightsaber in T-minus— Shit, now, T-minus-now.
I missed countdown day at the academy.
Now or never, Morty.
- There it is! - Reverse the jets.
I got this.
No. I do!
Morty, you magnificent little bastard.
Let's get this thing topside.
May the Force be with me.
I think you mean with me.
What? You hate Star Wars.
I was your age when this shit was in theaters.
This franchise raised me,
trained me, taught me good from evil,
made having a bad father empowering.
And when that third movie got all muppety...
something in me began to rot, but make no mistake, child.
I own Star Wars. Not you.
Not that bubble throat, pompadour fuck,
not some Mickey Mouse shit machine. They didn't pay the price with their souls.
I did. I earned this. Not you.
America. Transform and roll out.
Bastard!
Rick. I would be honored if you would carve the ham this year.
- Whoa. Dad. That's— - Unheard of?
You're quite right, Summer.
It's my way of saying I see your mom's father as my father too.
Oh, Jerry, why don't you cut it?
What the hell are you doing?
He's like adopting you into his biological family, Grandpa.
Morty, I am sure glad to see you.
You ready to tag your old grandpa back in?
You're not my grandpa, you're a fucking robot.
Ugh. Finally.
Okay, okay, okay.
- Summer, do you have any drugs? - Are you serious?
I guess not.
I'm just glad I'm not the one that ruined Christmas.
- People of Earth. - Hmm, that's never good.
I'm not here to play the blame game, but Morty Smith got a lightsaber for Christmas,
dropped it, and it's now heading for the Earth's core again— For the first time.
Son of a bitch. He played with it!
If it does reach the core, it will blow all of you up.
I mean, all of us up. But don't abandon hope.
We're doing everything we can to stop it
and only if that fails, will we launch the White House into space.
Welp, I'm busted. Clearly in space already.
- You did ruin Christmas. - Nuh-uh.
He stole my lightsaber and must've dropped it. A second time.
Does that mean you stopped it a first time?
- How? - A drill ship.
A drill ship? Awesome.
It was, but the government took it with them.
Then we lean on the only asshole smart enough to make another one.
But Rick's gone.
And I'm not sure he's ever coming back.
Then let's settle for the next best thing.
Oh, fuck, just let me die. Turn me off.
Not that I can be turned off, because I'm obviously not a robot.
Fuck yeah. I got you.
Okay, I can work with that.
What do you mean the White House chef was grocery shopping?
Well, do you know how to make an egg? You do?
Everyone does?
Good news, sir. The lightsaber was intercepted before it hit the core.
All right, here we go.
I don't suppose you could send it up here.
Uh, who intercepted it anyway?
That's the bad news.
That is bad news.
Hey, Mr. P. Drop something?
Morty!
I see you and, uh, Rick patched things up, that's nice.
The real Rick and I have never been worse thanks to that wedge
you drove between us to get that lightsaber.
Yeah, well, looks like you got it back.
Your journey is complete. As a nerd.
You're the nerd. You can't say all that crazy shit about Star Wars
and then act like you're cool.
Oh, really? Would a person who wasn't cool have one of these?
I think so?
Slowly closing door, slide.
Oh, no, I'm not gonna make it.
What a shame to be put out of my misery again.
Aw, man.
What the hell? Was this always part of the White House?
Carter built it with his own two hands. Reagan tried to destroy it.
George W added kegs to the cantina.
But only I saw its true value.
Mr. President. You need to come home and tell the people the truth.
The fuck I do! Droids, get that saber.
Give it a minute. Usually comes out on the fourth try.
All right, here we go. Look at 'em: lightsaber hands!
Tell me that's not cool.
It's not. I always wanted to fight with a lightsaber, but not like this.
- You ruined it. - Disney ruined it!
You think I want 30 low-rent TV series with bad CGI?
They film everything on that one big green screen.
- Like you've got better ideas. - I've got a million.
Here's one: a robot with lightsabers for eyes.
Goddamn it, he can't see.
It was a good idea otherwise.
Uh, admit it, you were intimidated.
Now, Morty...
Come on, put down the lightsaber gatling gun.
We had our fun, right?
Star Wars rules say you have to forgive me.
I'm done with that and I'm done with you!
- Morty. No! - Rick bot!
He sacrificed his life for me.
Yeah, don't be too touched. He's actively trying to die.
Ugh. It's okay, it doesn't hurt.
Oh, God, they're sliding, Morty. They're sliding! They're sliding!
Perfectly fucking vertical.
Save yourself, Morty. Rick can build another me!
- If I was a robot, which I'm not. - I don't want another you.
No!
- Rick? You came to help. - Better tend to your lil toaster.
I'm coughing up oil, Morty.
Oh, Rick bot, I never should've pushed you away.
- You were so great. - Of course I'm great, I'm Rick.
Rick literally built me to make you happy, Morty.
Anything I do is technically something Rick did.
But maybe he can do a little more himself.
- God, how long do you take to die? - Goodbye, Morty.
Ugh. Jesus.
Rick, uh...
I guess this is a bad time to ask for a new White House?
Morty, would you mind calling me an Uber?
Right, well, uh...
Merry Christmas.
I guess I'll go watch a guy scream about streets with the family.
Also, you need to shower.
Hey. Maybe the robot's right.
I should have included you in my shit.
You can help me if you want.
Wow, are those all the places Rick Prime could be?
I wish, Morty. It's all the places he is.
- Oh, jeez. - Welcome to my darkness.
I spent my life hunting this guy, Morty.
This is the closest I've ever been to catching Rick Prime. It's impossible.
He's an incredibly crafty piece of shit.
Hunting him destroyed me, Morty. But now we're gonna do it together.
You and me. It's gonna take over your life, Morty.
Rick and Morty, Season 7, hunting my nemesis.
Maybe trying to stay healthy while doing it.
Juggling plates. Not every episode, Morty.
It could be all happening in the background. Who knows? You know, no one will. Except us.
It's the most painful shit
I've ever had to deal with and I'm bringing you into it.
Because you asked for it, Morty. You and me, Morty.
Ooh-wee. What a season, huh? Rick Prime. Therapy.
And that thing we did with Roy, remember that?
Sorry I wasn't around,
been busy getting my little poopy butt in shape.
Been toning and boning.
You might think I'm over-compensating for the emptiness
after Amy left with Poopy Jr,
but my trainer Carl says the best way to get over a girl
is to get under a 300-pound squat.
Damn right.
Ah. Ooh-wee, that's the good stuff.
Oh, sugar, oh, sugar, oh, sugar! Is it bad?
Oh! It seems really bad, isn't it?
Someone call Amy, tell her I need her. Tell her I love her.
Not my phone, she blocked me, use yours.
Ooh-wee.
I am broken.