The whirring of a quantum blade echoed through the garage, sparks flying in every direction as Richard soldered together a device that looked like it belonged in a Lovecraftian torture chamber… if said chamber were sponsored by NASA. Rick belched loudly nearby, lazily wiping green goo off a dripping spanner. Morty sat slumped on a stool, still visibly shaken from their last escapade. He clutched a trauma blanket with Rick's face printed on it—some twisted gag gift from Richard.
"Alright, Morty," Rick muttered, dragging his voice like a rusted chain, "you learned your lesson—adventure equals trauma. Let's dial it back for a few days before your eyeballs start bleeding again."
"I-I mean, yeah, that'd be great," Morty stammered, wide-eyed. "Can we maybe do something chill, like… play cards or watch TV? Maybe not almost die this time?"
Richard didn't even glance up from his workstation. His fingers moved like machine pistons, flipping switches, tightening wires, and whispering half-mad equations under his breath. "Speak for yourself," Richard said coolly. "I'm just getting warmed up."
Rick raised an eyebrow. "You seriously wanna keep adventuring after that Zigerion mind frag?"
Richard finally looked up, eyes gleaming. "That was barely a warm-up. I want blood, Rick. Preferably blue and flammable."
"Right, you're still in that edgy teen phase. Why again? Oh yeah—your girlfriend left you because you neglected her. HAHAHA!" Rick started to laugh, but a wrench was sent flying, barely missing him by a hair's breadth, and stuck itself on the garage walls.
"Say one more word, and my next adventure will be causing you pain. Remember last time you slightly pissed me off? I threw you in a goose cage with a dog army chasing you." Richard said, going back to his work. He then casually added, "Now let's have some fun, shall we? Let's go to the Void Nebula and hunt some bugs."
Before Rick could respond with some drunken approval or morally questionable metaphor, the garage door creaked open. Beth, Summer, and Jerry walked in with matching expressions of domestic irritation. Richard groaned audibly. 'What's this about?' he thought.
Beth got right to the point. "We need help around the house. Summer's grades are slipping, Jerry's trying to get into some country club—"
"I'm trying to bond with billionaires, Beth," Jerry interrupted.
"—and I have surgeries stacked up like pancakes."
Rick, unbothered, pulled out a small box. It was glossy blue with a glowing red button on top. "The Meeseeks Box," he said casually. "Push the button, get a Meeseeks. Ask them to do something, and they vanish when they're done."
Richard caught the box in mid-air as Rick tossed it lazily toward the table. He studied it, fingers already tracing its edges. "Hm. Cute idea," Richard muttered, then promptly pulled out a screwdriver and popped it open like a Christmas gift. "But flawed as hell."
Rick, intrigued and a little agitated, asked, "Why do you say that?"
"This would work if you talking about a normal family. Heck, Beth, Summer, and Morty could use it well. Sadly, we have to acutome it to Jerry." Richard answered as he worked on it. Rick understood while Jerry protested.
"Hey, I am not that stupid."
"I never said you were stupid, Jerry. You are just–slow," Richard said, while he was still making some changes to the box.
"Oh, well, ok then," Jerry said, 'Richard is right' was the thought that passed through everyone's head. Rick just accepted his defeat since he clearly can't win against Richard when it comes to understanding his father.
"So, what are you doing with it?"
"Upgrading it. The Meeseeks in the original design glitch out if they can't complete the task. Self-aware constructs shouldn't be forced into an existential crisis over Jerry's mediocrity. I'm installing a failsafe—a hard-coded sanity threshold. If a task is deemed impossible, they vanish. No genocidal mobs. No global resets." He slapped the lid back on and handed it to Jerry with a smirk. "Try not to disappoint it." Then, without skipping a beat, Richard spun on his heel and tapped his wrist device. A swirling portal opened in the center of the garage.
"Rick, adventure time."
"Oh, hell yeah," Rick grinned, already stepping through. "Morty, come on."
Morty hesitated. "W-Wait! What about the—"
"It is alright, Rick. Let him rest; he's seen enough for today," Richard said with a sigh before adding, "It is just a regret that the place we are going to would have a lot of beautiful girls that are into short people. I thought of finally getting Morty a girlfriend and making him less gay, but alas."
"Wait, what's this about girls?" Morty said, immediately perked on the idea of a girl. "I think I can come since you will need a lot of help," He said as he ran with Rick, who just said under his breath.
"Smip," Rick muttered, stepping through the portal. The portal collapsed behind them like a deflating god. Jerry stared at the Meeseeks Box like it was a golden key to validation. With trembling fingers, he pressed the button. Poof! A blue humanoid popped into existence, grinning with its wide, creepy smile. "I'm Mr. Meeseeks! Look at me!"
Jerry puffed up his chest. "Teach me how to play golf. I'm trying to bond with rich guys."
The Meeseeks blinked. "Oookay! Let's lower your handicap!"
{30 Minutes Later}
The living room was now a war zone of broken golf clubs, shattered picture frames, and multiple Meeseeks in existential despair. "This task is… not achievable!" one of them shrieked, eyes bloodshot. But then—Poof!—they vanished. The failsafe kicked in. Beth and Summer looked relieved.
"That was easy," Summer said. "Thanks, Richard." Even though he wasn't present, she still thanked probably because she knew that they are a dozen cameras watching the entire town, including their family.
Jerry, however, was fuming. His face reddened like a sunburnt peach. "No. No! I refuse to be the only person a Meeseeks gives up on!" He marched back to the box and slammed the button repeatedly. Poof! Poof! Poof! Meeseeks flooded the room.
"Teach me golf!" "Make me a winner!" "Make my wife respect me!"
The Meeseeks, encountering the same fail condition, all promptly vanished with satisfying pops. Enraged, Jerry went full Jerry. He stormed into the garage, grabbed one of Rick's half-finished devices—a glowing, humming thing labeled "Unstable Temporal Phase Array - Do Not Touch You Idiot"—and screamed: "MAKE ME A PRO OR DIE TRYING!"
He hits the box with the gun as the machine malfunctioned instantly, of course. Jerry opened a hole in localized time, spawning infinite versions of himself, each demanding better golf skills. The Meeseeks began interpreting every Jerry as a separate request—and none could be fulfilled.