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Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, Canada
Morty: Rick? W-where are you?
Pickle Rick: On my work bench, Morty.
Morty: Are you invisible and you're gonna, like, fart on me?
Pickle Rick: Flip the pickle over.
Morty: What, I'm gonna touch it, and you're gonna tell me it's an alien ♥♥♥♥ or something.
Pickle Rick: Come on, flip the pickle, Morty. You're not gonna regret it. The payoff is huge.
[Morty hesitantly picks up the screwdriver and turns the pickle over. The pickle has Rick's face on it] I turned myself into a pickle, Morty! Boom! Big reveal: I'm a pickle. What do you think about that? I turned myself into a pickle! W-what are you just staring at me for, bro. I turned myself into a pickle, Morty!
Morty: And?
Pickle Rick: "And"? What more do you want tacked on to this? I turned myself into a pickle, and 9/11 was an inside job?
Morty: Was it?
Pickle Rick: Who cares, Morty? Global acts of terrorism happen every day. Uh, here's something that's never happened before: I'm a pickle. I'm Pickle Rick!