"Boy, Morty, I really Cronenberg'd the world up, didn't I? We got a whole planet of Cronenbergs walking around down there, Morty. At least they're not in love with you anymore, though. That's a huge step in the right direction," Rick reflected from the roof of the supermarket, with the flying machine just behind him and his grandson.
"Oh my God, it's a living nightmare. How could you be so irresponsibe, Rick?!" Morty shouted, more shocked than angry.
"ME irresponsible?! Y-All I wanted you to do was hand me a screwdriver, Morty!" Rick stuttered, "You're the one who wanted me... Wanted me to... Buckle down and make you up a... Rufie... Juice... Serum. So you could rufie that poor girl at your school," Rick Sanchez completely ignored his grandson's gaping mouth, as Rick spouted nonsense, "Wha... Ergh... Are you kidding me Morty?! You're gonna try to take the high road on this one?! You-you-you-you're a little CREEP, Morty! You-you-you're just a little creepy creep... Person."
"Alright, fine!" Morty retorted, "I should've just listened to you when you refused to make the serum, I'm willing to take my part in the blame for this, but I'll tell you something, you know what?! You gotta accept your part of the blame! I'm not the one who fouled up the serum! I'm not the one who... Who-who-who-who haphazardly, y'know, mixed a bunch of nonsense together and created a bunch of Cronenbergs!"