“Jessica, it’s Morty from school,” he says as the beeping goes into overdrive. What nonsense, you object: I can’t get mobile coverage in the kitchen, let alone outer space. Morty, convinced he and his comatose, sociopathicscience whiz of a grandpa Rick are going to die on re-entry, makes his last phone call. Flames lick his craft and the noise – my God, the noise – of beeping alarm systems portends what rocket scientists call “nothing good”.ĭo flying saucers even have steering wheels, you ask? Spare me your plodding literalism, I reply. N erdy Morty is steering his flying saucer back to Earth, escaping the ectoplasmic thing that was menacing him and his mad grandfather at the end of season four.
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