Season One

Rick: If you get killed in someone else’s dream, you die for real, Morty.
Morty: What?! Are you kidding me?! Ohhhhhh!
Rick: Don’t be a baby! You avoid getting shot in real life all the time, Morty. Just do the same thing here, and we’ll be fine!

Snuffles: Where are my testicles, Summer? Where are my testicles, Summer? They were removed. Where have they gone?
Summer: Oh, wow. That’s an intense line of questioning, Snuffles.
Snuffles: Do not call me that! “Snuffles” was my slave name. You shall now call me Snowball, because my fur is pretty and white.
Summer: Okay, Snowball, just calm down, okay? You’re scaring me.
Snowball: Scaring you? Tell me, Summer, if a human was born with stumpy legs, would they breed it with another deformed human and put their children on display like the Dachshund?

Morty: What the hell? Why would Mr. Goldenfold’s dream version of Mrs. Pancakes’ dream version of a centaur be dreaming about a scary place like this, Rick?
Rick: Geez, I don’t know, Morty. Wha-what do you want from me?
Scary Terry: Welcome to your nightmare, bitch!
Rick: Oh, here we go!
Morty: Holy crap!
Rick: Looks like some sort of legally safe knock-off of an ’80s horror character with miniature swords for fingers instead of knives.
Scary Terry: I’m Scary Terry. You can run, but you can’t hide, bitch!

Rick: Allahu *burps* Akbar! We’re gonna take control of this plane! We’re gonna 9/11 it unless Morty Smith gets better grades in math! Hey! I said nobody move, buddy!
Goldenfold: The name’s not buddy. It’s Goldenfold. Nice to wheat you!
Rick: Take cover, Morty! Goldenfold’s got more control here than I anticipated. I mean, the guy teaches high-school math. I didn’t take him for an active dreamer.

Snowball: You’re being very aggressive, Jerry. Perhaps tomorrow Dr.
scraps will solve that problem with a bit of surgery.
Jerry: You think you can control me with a haircut?

Rick: What’s that dipshit doing out there? Are you friends with him? You know he eats his own shit, right? Oh my god, this is rich! I’ve got like *burps* ten Ricks to call right now.

Morty: Is it time for arcs yet, Rick? I did a pretty good job back there for a human cloaking device. Saved your ass.
Rick: All right, Morty. Don’t break an arm jerking yourself off.

Rick: Rick Sanchez of Earth dimension C-137, you are under arrest for crimes against alternate Ricks by the authority of the Trans-Dimensional Council of Ricks.

Rick: So, as they say in Canada, peace oot!

Rick: Earth Rick C-137, the council of Ricks sentences you to the machine of unspeakable doom. Which swaps your conscious and unconscious minds. rendering your fantasies pointless while everything you’ve ever known becomes impossible to grasp. Also, every 10 seconds it stabs your balls.

Rick: Well, i can’t cure death. This is bad, Morty. You’re trapped in a dead man. Listen, if the situation keeps darkening, do yourself a favor and pop by Pirates of the Pancreas. Obviously I’m biased, but I think it’s great, Morty. It’s a bunch of *belches* pirates running around a *belches* pancreas. We don’t whitewash it, either, Morty. I mean, the pirates are really rapey.

Summer: Dad, I’m not giving you my phone.
Jerry: Put it in the stocking, summer, or I’m joining Facebook.
Summer: *gasps*

Leonard: Your mother and I have shared body, and soul, and when minds and souls are joined for eternity and when eternity is at the door, it’s an invitation to let go of the body and an opportunity to share and experiment.
Jerry: Dad, please. What are you saying?
Beth: Whatever it is, it’s beautiful, Leonard, and we support you.
Jerry: Hey, speak for yourself, because it *laughs nervously* sounds like you’re about to say Jacob is your lover.
Leonard: No, no, no, no, no, no. Jacob is your mother’s lover. *chuckles* I watch them sometimes from a chair and sometimes from a closet, almost always dressed as Superman. *smooches*
Jacob: Oh. Jerry, this ham has got to be all you, right? It’s incredible. *chuckles*
Summer: Happy human holiday, Dad.

Rick: Morty, can you get to the left nipple?
Morty: Are you kidding? I’m hoping I can get to both of ’em, Rick.

Annie: You can put your fingers wherever you want.
Rick: Morty, you want to put it on mute or something? I’m-I’m trying to concentrate.

Prince Nebulon: Oh, a-and by the way, I don’t have discolored butthole-flaps. That was part of the simulation.
Cynthia: Oh. Uh, sir, should i cancel that appointment, then?
Prince Nebulon: Yeah! Of course you should! *chuckles* No, keep it. Move it up, actually, if you can.

Morty: Ugh! I’m gonna get an “f” in class, Rick.
Rick: Morty, that’s not class. T-t-t-that wasn’t your teacher. This isn’t your school. This entire world is not the world. We’re inside a huge simulation chamber on an alien spaceship.
Morty: Wait a minute. W-what are you talking about?
Rick: It’s all fake *burps* Morty, all of it. Nanobotic renderings, a bunch of crazy fake nonsense, Morty. I couldn’t say so until we got In the shower. They won’t monitor us in here.
Morty: Monitor us?! W-who?!
Rick: Zigerion scammers, Morty. The galaxy’s most ambitious, least successful con artists. You know, it’s lucky for us they’re also really uncomfortable with nudity.