Hey, golf is easy now!
Aah! Golf is hard again! Golf is hard again!
The view from here is the same as yours, Jim.
A giant head has entered Earth's gravity,
triggering climate change and natural disasters
we thought were impossible for at least another eight years.
Let's not make this political, Terry.
Do we know what this giant head wants?
Show me what you got.
Jim, you heard the... said — "Show me what you got."
Show me what you got.
I want to see what you got.
Oh, boy. Time to go, Morty.
Uh, where?
The Pentagon.
I mean, not the Pentagon.
The lame one here on Earth.
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Is it God?
If it's God, do we get out of school?
It's not God, Summer.
She's allowed to think it's God if she wants, honey.
Shut up, Jerry.
Okay.
Dad, what do you know about this?
Morty and I are going to look into it.
You guys hold tight.
Scary stuff, huh? Pretty freaky.
Hi. I'm Morty's math teacher.
I'm also part of the street team inviting folks
to the church downtown so we can pray together.
How is praying going to help?
Ma'am, a giant head in the sky is controlling the weather.
Did you want to play checkers? Let's be rational!
I'll see you at God's house!
Gentlemen, gentlemen! One at a time! Simon?
Seti, Norad, and every broadcaster on the planet
are attempting to show this being what humanity's got —
String Theory, World History, the Human Genome —
Have you tried sending it launch codes?
Mr. President, what America's got
is 70,000 megatons of kaboom-boom,
and I say we show it right up this floating head's ass.
No, you need to let me talk!
Shut up!
Hold it! Don't move!
Stay back! This watch turns people into snakes!
Oh!
Stand down! Everybody, stand down!
I'm the leader of these people, and I'm unarmed.
There's no need for any more snake-makery.
My name is Rick Sanchez.
This here is my grandson, Morty.
- Hi, Morty. - Hey.
I've seen enough of the Galaxy to know what we've got here
is a Cromulon from the Signus Five Expanse.
So you can forget about nukes, and you can forget about math.
This head won't go away
until Earth shows them it's got...
a hit song.
- A hit song? - We can't possibly —
- You mean like Vivaldi? - No, Frasier.
A live performance of a newly written, catchy original song.
The Cromulon feed on the talent and showmanship
of less-evolved life-forms.
All right, all right. Thank you, Mr. Sanchez.
Change of plan, people.
Get me Pharrell, Randy Newman,
Billy Corgan, and The-Dream.
The-Dream?
He wrote "Umbrella" and "Single Ladies"?
You people haven't heard of The-Dream?
You're gonna want to put them on that giant speaker system
at your sonic testing facility at Area 51.
How do you know about that?
For god's sake, Nathan,
the man turns people into snakes.
He can use Google maps.
Sir, Pharrell, Newman, Corgan, and that Dream guy —
- They're all dead. - What?
How is that possible? Do people just die when I name them?
The Grammys, sir.
There was an earthquake and... all the musicians,
all the famous ones... they're gone.
Dear god.
Hold on, sir. Just a minute.
Ice-T survived.
He's inbound on an F-15, E.T.A. two hours.
Good luck, Mr. President.
Sir, the magnetic poles are about to reverse.
In two hours, there may not be an Earth to save.
Sanchez? Are you a musician?
I dabble, Mr. President.
Get this man and his grandson on a Black Hawk to Area 51.
People! Everyone! Remain calm!
Every crisis of faith is an opportunity for more faith.
When God deals you an 11, you don't fold!
You double down!
And always hit on a soft 16.
That means you, Jews.
I beg your pardon, Pastor, but the last I looked outside,
it seems to be you that's been dealt the weak hand.
Jews rule!
Nobody? Okay, tough church.
Hi. Principal Vagina —
The name's real, possibly Scandinavian.
I'm just gonna come out and make this pitch —
The old gods are dead.
Fuck all previous existing religions.
All hail the one true God —
The giant head in the sky.
- Children of God! - Ah-ta-ta-ta!
Bob, Bob, I get it.
But unless this can beat that,
what have you done for me lately?
So, if you'll all excuse me,
I'm going out onto the sidewalk,
I'm dropping to my knees, and pledging my eternal soul
to the thing that literally controls the fucking weather.
Out of my way.
Okay.
If sanity's been restored to this assembly,
I'd like to talk about the cost of repairing our new organ.
Sally, the plate, please.
Oh! This is my favorite part!
Rick, are you really a musician?
Who's not a musician, Morty?
- Me! - Yeah, not with that attitude.
We're in the drop zone! I'm the jumpmaster!
My name's Jamey — With an e-y!
Go, go, go!
B-but — But we don't have a song!
Giant head in the sky, please forgive all that we've done.
We're sorry for our increased levels of emissions
and our racism and, of course, the amber alerts
I keep ignoring on my phone.
Whoa!
All right, Morty. Let's get — let's do it.
Why don't you, uh, find a button on one of those keyboards
and lay down some kind of beat?
Rick, I think we need to cut our losses.
W-we get our family and portal out of here!
Morty, good music comes from people who are relaxed.
Just hit a button, Morty! Give me a beat!
Oh, man. Okay. All right, um...
Get "Schwifty"? What the hell is that?
It's our world's best effort. That's what.
"Mr. Bulldops"?
Don't analyze it, Nathan. It's working!
and third-level donors get our all-access family pass.
Listen! The storm is stopping!
Hmm.
Please be kind to us, for we are but tiny things
with entire bodies, stuck to your ground.
I like what you got! Good job!
- Yeah! - Whoo!
We did it!
What do you know? He was right!
- Hooray Principal Vagina! - Yeah, I'll take it.
Now, hold on a second!
Let's be rational about this.
No, I'm — I'm just saying,
we don't know there's a cause-effect relationship —
Oh, my god!
What is going on now?
Whoa! Whoa!
What the hell happened?
Mr. President, you're gonna want to see this.
I think planet Earth has just been transported.
The Head has left and sent its children.
Holy crap!
Oh, dear giant Head, we apologize for that discussion.
It will never happen again.
Oh, dear — Oh, dear giant Head...
Sir, we started picking up on a garbled signal.
We're decrypting it now.
We asked them to show us what they got,
and they did.
Now we'll see which of them has got the most.
24 hours, 5 planets, 5 songs.
But in the end, there can only be one...
Planet Music!
All participation is involuntary.
Disqualified and losing planets
are disintegrated by plasma ray.
Uh, it's probably a bad time to mention it,
but any astronauts you guys had in orbit are definitely dead.
Welcome back to "Planet Music"!
First up, let's hear the latest song
from planet Parblesnops', The Greeby Bobes!
Show me what you got!
Hold it, hold it. Stop.
Music isn't about competition or captivity.
If you love music, you love freedom.
Let these worlds be free! Please!
Disqualified.
There's one every season.
Moving on to planet Arboles Mentirosos.
Arbolian Mentirososians, show us what you got!
A2, 3, 4!
Rick, Morty, Ice-T, the timetable's moved up.
Earth's on in six hours.
Like we're not already under enough pressure?
- Whoa! Whoa! - Yeah!
Geez, Morty, the guy's just doing his job. Take it easy.
Rick, Ice-T, could you guys take it less easy?
We've got six hours to come up with a song!
Genius happens in the moment, Morty.
Well, can we at least go get our family?
You know, so we can take them wis—
With u— With us if we lose?
That's planning for failure, Morty.
Even dumber than regular planning.
Balls.
Morty, Morty, stop. Listen.
There's only so much charge left in this thing.
If we portal home from here and back,
we're not gonna have enough charge left to get off world.
- Get it? - What?
- Yeah. - You see?
I try to shelter you
from certain realities Morty,
because if I let you make me nervous,
then we can't get schwifty.
Stop saying it like it's a thing! You made it up!
Hey, Morty, could you lick my...
balls, balls...
Rick, cut it out! It's not funny, Rick!
I've seen enough. These guys are one-hit wonders.
And what's your plan, General?
We still have the nuclear option.
On my word, we can launch a missile
at every one of those heads in the sky.
Our planet's held captive on a live game show,
and your solution is to shoot the audience?
You can put your faith in nukes if we get through this, General.
Until then, I'll put mine in Rick and Morty.
"Get Schwifty" was a jam.
Hello? Yes, sir, yeah.
Eh, thank you, sir. Thank you.
He says he's proud of what we're doing
and hopes we have a great ascension festival!
Happy ascension!
We should pack up and leave town now.
I think it's inspiring that our community is coping with fear
in a way that involves a festival and homemade ice cream.
If you'd stop being such an evangelical atheist,
you might start enjoying yourself.
Whoa! Look at you!
You're wearing the hat and everything!
Here's yours!
Mom, do you mind if I cook dinner tonight?
Yeah, sure. Wait. What?
I love you guys. You gave me life.
And it's the will of the many Heads
that all children honor their parents.
Dinner sounds nice.
Pardon, Mr. And Mrs. Smith.
Summer, are you coming to the ascension?
Father, can we please go to the ascension?
Sure! Let's go to the ascension.
Wh-wh-what is it?
We hereby send these unwantables skyward
that they might be inhaled by the many Heads,
later to be sneezed back to us as better babies.
Headward, free now to rise.
Oh, yes! Yes! Rise to the giant Head!
You are free to be free!
And squeegee comes up from the garage, right?
But he's got a lobster in one hand,
the movie tickets in the other, he's like, "I'm ready!"
You gonna take a lobster to see "Iron Man 3"?
Ice-T!
Ah, damn.
We're out of original-flavor Fig Newtons.
I should get going anyway.
Wait, wait, wait! C-come on.
H-hold on a second. Hold on.
- What? - Damn.
You didn't tell me you fuck around with portals and shit.
That's it!
Whoa, whoa, Morty! Give me that.
You lied! You lied about the charge!
You were just being lazy!
Get back! Sit down!
Morty, just put it down.
You don't know what you're doing.
I'm going to go find mom and dad!
No!
Oh shit.
And then Ethan played guitar, and we learned
the seven contemplations of the Head by singing them.
It was really fun.
Praise be the Head!
- Praise be the... - Yeah.
Hi, folks. Head Priest Vagina.
Thanks for farming all those potatoes.
It's 6:00 p.m, so if you're a parent,
you're now entitled to adoration from your children.
I'm going to start dinner!
I don't know what to say.
Summer is doing really well here.
She's aced every test in potato class,
and look how important potatoes have become.
She's not getting pregnant or doing drugs or missing curfew.
Please help me. You can reach me if you try.
Please help me!
That's not our business as long as Summer is thriving.
Taco time!
I hope it pleases you as the Head desires.
That's wonderful, Summer.
We're so proud of you.
But obviously you don't have to make dinner every night.
Of course I do, silly!
Oh, my god, daddy! I'm sorry I called you silly!
I'm so sorry!
Heavenly Heads and cranial creator,
forgive my transgressions against family and community.
May my chores complete me as I complete them.
Morty.
Birdperson?
You appear to be dying.
I will make efforts to prevent this
but can promise nothing.
Wh-what do you think, Ice? Probably a little overdeveloped.
Shit, overdeveloped, underdeveloped —
A bad song's a bad song.
Well, do you think, maybe —
Could you give me some help with it, or...?
Aw, hell no, man.
You do your thing, but I can't afford to
get my pride wrapped up in your shame.
You know what I'm saying?
Ice, I don't want to be a negative Nelly or anything,
but if Morty doesn't come back with my portal gun
and I eat it out there,
it's, uh, you know, kind of your problem, too.
Pfft! I ain't worried about no Earth blowing up, man.
What? Why not?
Yo, this is why.
What the fuck, you can turn into ice?
My story begins at the dawn of time
in the faraway realm of Alphabetrium.
There, every being is a letter of the alphabet.
But I was frozen and exiled to the cosmos by my elders
as punishment for not caring enough about anything.
Earth is just one of my many stops
on a lifelong journey with no destination.
So you better believe I don't care if it blows up,
because I'll just be ice floating through space,
like a comet.
Take it from me, Ice, you can't just
Float around space not caring about stuff forever.
Pfft. Man, watch me.
Good luck, Rick.
Okay, things are getting out of hand.
I better make sure Rick has everything he needs
to get schwifty.
Oh, for god's sakes. That's enough.
What the hell are you doing, Nathan?
I'm the goddamn President of the United fucking States!
I'm setting the nuclear option to launch
one minute into Earth's performance.
And you, Mr. President...
I hope you like being hit in the face with a gun.
Wait, wait, wait. Why — why —
I believe I can access the history of Rick's gun
and help you get back to him.
But can you help me get to my family?
You know, at — at my house?
Is your intention to abandon Rick
using his own portal gun?
In Bird culture, this is considered a dick move.
All of Rick's moves are dick moves!
What — What am I eating?
Wh-what is this, bird— birdseed?
It is random debris. I found it in my carpet.
I don't know what humans eat.
You know what this human eats.
Don't be gross, Tammy.
Bird dick.
Tammy, gross.
Birdperson, you always stick up for Rick,
but he doesn't care about anyone but himself.
He doesn't think about the consequences
of anything he does.
And as a result, he has the power
to save or destroy entire worlds.
And he is the reason you and I know each other...
and the reason I'm alive at all.
What's that? Who's that baby?
Morty, suppose you could retrieve your family from Earth
but had to abandon Rick.
I could give your loved ones shelter on Birdworld,
even jobs, possibly as worm ranchers.
How often do you think you might look up at the stars
and wonder what might have been
had you just put your faith in Rick?
That was Chunkytunk with
"Full Ming Mong, Empty Gorbdork."
Up next, planet Earth!
Oh. god! We're up?
Jerry and Beth, your family is a golden example
of what Headism has to offer the world.
- The world? - Headism is a hit.
We're taking it worldwide, and we'd like Jerry to be
our church's Head of advertising.
You would?
Beth, we'd like to promote you from horse surgeon
straight past human surgeon to Head of medicine.
That's my dream! That's my dream.
Thank you. This is all so overwhelming.
But, uh...
we can't. - Absolutely not.
I'm sorry?
We've been waiting 16 years
for our daughter to respect us,
but the key is, it has to be our daughter,
not this person she's become.
We'll take our chances raising her
without fancy new jobs,
outside of a potato-based religion.
And you know what? I-I'm sick of pretending that we're together
because of the kids in the first place.
I married you because you're the love of my life.
And I'm lucky to have you, and I never tell you that!
You know, we will come out of this stronger as a family.
Please don't do this! Please don't do this!
- Summer! - Summer, listen carefully.
I stole a paper clip, and I have it in my cheek,
but I don't know what to do with it, and it hurts.
You're going to be okay.
You will come back as babies.
I am a baby! I'm a baby now!
Hello?
Is anybody here?
Mr. President!
This is Bluebird!
Code Tango Niner Alpha!
Abort launch! Abort! Hello?
He's blocked me out.
Sir, I need to get to the stage
and help Rick get Schwifty!
It won't matter how Schwifty you get, Morty.
The General's got nukes set to launch
halfway through Earth's song!
Oh, my god! Uh, c-can you fly a Black Hawk?
Can the Pope's dick fit through a doughnut?
Uh, I'm... not sure.
Exactly.
Show me what you got!
Uh...
Headward, free now to rise.
Hey, look at the Heads!
Looks like the Heads are getting angry!
I'm really bad at this, Morty!
There are way too many buttons in this thing!
Mr. President, if I've learned one thing today
it's that sometimes you have to not give a fuck.
Ugh. Tough crowd.
I'm sure that has —
That has nothing to do with this.
The Heads are displeased!
Summer!
Um...
Marty!
Hooray!
Hooray! Look!
Hooray!
The Heads love this!
They love it when we don't kill the Smith family!
No! Stop that!
You're not allowed to interpret the will of the Heads!
Call off the nuclear strike! This is the President!
Stop the nuclear missile launch!
Just launch the missiles!
Boo! Not cool!
I'm the only one that speaks to the Heads!
Disqualified!
The Heads disqualified Vagina! Get him!
Disqualified!
Ice-T?
That's right. It's me — Ice-T.
I care now.
You made me care more.
With all due respect,
I'd like to hear what Rick and Morty have to play.
What do you say, Rick?
I say, let's do it!
Hooray!
Yeah.
All right.
Here we go.
Sing it with me now!
Oh, my go—
Yeah.
All right!
Oh, yeah. Raised up posterior!
After 988 seasons of "Planet Music,"
the Cromulons have decided to declare Earth the final winner
and bring our musical reality show to a conclusion.
Goodbye.
- Yeah! - We did it! Yes!
Let's get a music album now!
Did he just say "Musical Reality Show"?
Yeah, it's possible that we may have been correlating
some things that weren't actually related at all.
Help!
We should go get him.
I hope I can call on you and Rick again if I need you, Morty.
Sure thing. And I —
I was kind of hoping that I could get a selfie with you?
Actually, if you try to tell anyone what happened here,
we'll deny it and probably worse.
Understood.
D-I-I-I-I-ie!
Oh, no, no, no!
Why didn't he turn into a snake?
Trade secret, Mr. President.
Particle beam in a wristwatch,
snake holster on the leg.
I love this man!
Magnesium-J, Hydrogen-F...
Father.
Word of your selfless acts on the Earth planet
have traveled across the galaxy.
I have changed.
I am ready to rejoin my brethren on Alphabetrium.
Very well.
Your exile ends today.
Welcome home, Water-T.
The Numbericons! They're attacking!
Battle stations!
Aah!
Father!
I love you, son.
I should have never turned you to ice.
Water-T, where are you going?
There's too many of them!
Then I better crunch the numbers.
- Aaaaaaaaaaaah!
Did you get any of that?
It's-a good show-a.
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