All language subtitles for rick.and.morty.s07e04.1080p.web.h264-nhtfs[eztv.re]_Track03

Who’s ready for rick’s famous spaghetti?

- I love Spaghetti Thursdays!
- Oh my god Rick,

- it’s like it’s better every time.
- Hell yeah, you like that?

That’s... a some good spaghetti!

Grandpa Rick,
I’m skull emoji but words.

Sauce? More sauce?
We gots the sauce.

Dad, you had a job interview, right?

Bombed it. But it’s nothing
a little bolognese won’t cure.

Dad, this noodle is so tender.

A little spicy, a little sweet.
A little spicy, a little sweet.

It’s so nice that we’re talking,

you know, all talking because
we’re a family and everything,

and this a good time we’re having.

- Is there any more?
- Seconds? Thirds?

We spa-gots as much as you can spag-eat!

Rick, I gotta know, like,
what’s the secret ingredient?

God no. Why?
Why? No.

Why is it always this shit with you?
Of course it’s a person.

Rick, why couldn’t it just be spaghetti?

I’m just going to say this
as simply as possible

and let you not believe me,
on this planet,

people that kill themselves
turn into spaghetti.

- What?
- I know, you’re a visual learner,

so follow me.

Hi, Doctor Hotpenis,
you’re not supposed to bring patients...

Hi, Michael, it’s okay,
this alien boy has space cancer

and his dying wish is to see
deader people so he can feel superior.

All you had to say.

Check it out. Murdered.

Gross.

Car crash.

- And suicide.
- Rick, I don’t...

Wait, what is that smell?

You know god damn well what it is, baby.
Get in here.

Don’t do that!

You’ve been doing it for weeks
every spaghetti night.

Come on, Morty.
Choo choo plane!

- Gross.
- Come on!

- God damn.
- Telling you.

Why? How?

Their cortisol increases the starch
content in their bloodstream,

changing their intestines
into one long spaghetti noodle,

and the surrounding tissues into a spicy
sweet hematoma

that we would call a bolognese.

But it takes a lot of cortisol.
Like a suicidal amount.

It’s almost better cold.

Wouldn’t go that far,
don’t be a hipster.

Excuse me.

- Are you two eating a corpse?
- It’s okay! It’s spaghetti.

- Morty, they don’t know what that is.
- I’m calling the police!

- Before you do that, just...
- No, Rick, stop!

- What? Where am I?
- In a morgue, eating bodies.

- We’re what?
- Stop using that thing!

What thing? Who are we?

- We were just leaving.
- All you had to say.

Whose car is this?
Whose sun visor is this? What’s a sun?

Jesus, sorry,
that’s always embarrassing.

But you see what I mean now?

Best spaghetti in the galaxy
and it’s a hundred percent guilt-free.

I wanna know their names.

Who? Michael?
Coroner Number One?

The people we’ve been eating
every spaghetti night!

Do you even know their names?

I’m not giving you
your spaghettises’ names!

You’ve found my line, Morty,
I find that ghoulish.

I want their names or I’m
telling Mom and no more spaghetti night.

You suck! Where’s the thing?
Where’s the Men in Black thing?

Names!

And if you know the fucking
names of your spaghettis, that’s it?

- This is done?
- It’s all I ask!

You won’t get overwhelmed
with even more guilt

and then demand to go
to their fucking funeral?

Just their names and then I’m done.

I promise.

- I fucking hate you.
- I just want to pay my respects.

The only reason you’re still alive

is because you don’t turn delicious
when you die.

Thank you for that moment of silence.

I’d like to open it up to
the congregation,

if anyone would like to say
a few words about Lawrence...

Or another moment of silence.

Jeez, no wonder he killed himself.

Okay let’s...

- For...
- Hi.

I just want to be honest
about something.

After Lawrence died,

we...

...ate him.

Wait, we’re not...
werewolves or anything,

we come from a planet, where to us,
when you guys kill yourselves,

you turn into what
my planet considers food.

Spaghetti.

It brought us together.

Lawrence. Brought us together.

It just felt wrong
not having anyone know that.

But he was delicious.

I hope that helps make it right.

That should do it, buddy.
Everybody enjoy your closure.

So we were eating people.

I’m afraid so.

They were so... spaghettesque.

Yes, they were.

It’s going to be... hard to...

Hard to put out of your mind, yes,

which is why I thought it best
to keep you all in the dark.

So... Morty ruined spaghetti night.

- Correct.
- Summer, it was people!

It was people, Summer.
Which is disgusting.

And not cool to lie about.

Correct.

But. It should also be noted,
to Morty, that it’s not cool to tattle.

- Dad!
- They were delicious.

- So keep eating them!
- We can’t now!

Because of you!
Sorry.

Morty. That was terrible parenting.

You did the quote unquote right thing.

We are technically very happy
to be better informed.

First octopus, now this.

Have we thought about just giving up and
joining the fascist half of the country?

- No!
- Just saying, they get to do more.

Well, I guess I’ll go to my room
since everyone hates me now.

- Sorry. Good night, Morty.
- Goodnight, Morty.

Hey, big boy. Are you depressed?
Mama likes depression.

I spilled my milk. Now we’re both sad.
I’m a bad family therapist farm girl.

Hello, Morty Smith.
You are invited to 41-Kepler B.

You know it as Spaghetti Planet.

You’re not in trouble.
We just want to talk.

Can that thing support my weight?

It should.

Okay...

...up here?

Geez.
Ever heard of a ramp?

This is a ramp.

Hi, Morty,
I’m the president of this planet.

I saw the video of you at that funeral.

- I’m sorry.
- Don’t be.

It was quite the revelation.

Would you mind showing us?

This is the "spaghetti"
of a person that took their own life.

They did consent to be eaten.

Okay.

Wow, yeah, amazing as always.
Not gonna lie.

And would you consider yourself
a typical Earthian?

Well, on Earth, it’s considered
inferior to be typical so

we’re all very special and different
but we definitely all do like spaghetti.

All eight billion of you.

Morty, how would you feel about
being a kind of ambassador?

A liaison between our worlds.

Now hold on.
I went to that funeral because...

Because you felt bad.
Because you didn’t have permission.

Show him.

My name is Tanya Radcliffe.

I’ve been living in pain for years,

I’ve lost all my loved ones,
I’ve got nothing.

So when doctors told me
I could finally have the "right to die"

if I agree to be dinner
for some alien boy,

I simply said, "I hope I’m delicious."

God damn.

And would you say
that makes it taste better?

It makes it go down a lot easier.

I like that.

Maybe it’s time we allow some people
the right to die and be delicious.

Please feel free to finish Tanya.

- It is what she wanted.
- No. No I think I’m good.

Thanks.
Tanya, you really were tasty.

Actually, can I take her to go?

Who’s ready for more ethical spaghetti?

Me. I love this ethical shit.

Full admission, I was fine before to.

God this is so good!
Pass the Parmesan!

Where’s Dad? Why does he keep
missing spaghetti night?

I guess he got butthurt
because Morty high-roaded him

and got us the delicious spaghetti
without all the lies and nihilism.

And another cheer
for the added bonus of no Rick...

Boom.

Sorry to interrupt Morty’s
perfect spaghetti night,

- but thought he’d wanna see this.
- What the fuck is that?

"Morty-O’s Suicide Spaghetti
is 100% ethical, single-origin pasta."

Oh dear God.

Lemme guess,
you went back to the planet,

gave some thoughtful
insight to their leader,

and now they’re selling
their dead at every Space Walmart.

I did, but I didn’t say to do this.

Is this people, or not people?

I just need to know
how much I should pretend to be upset.

This seems to be ‘Roger.’

Hi. I’m Roger Wayne Marder.
I was a serial killer and cannibal,

and now I get to kill myself
and be food for you,

which I suppose is a silver lining
to all my misdeeds.

Anyway, please enjoy me.

So "yes" to people?

I mean, on the bright side,

I feel like one could look
at this as a really nice epilogue

to a story about telling the truth.

Care to see that epilogue?

What is all this...

Cans of spaghetti selling out
to every neighboring planet.

Wanna go see how ethical
it is down there?

This is Spaghetti Planet?

- What happened?
- You happened.

You happened all over those billboards.

Oh jeez, oh no.

See that, they call that bridge
"The Most Scenic Jump".

There used to be safety rails,

they melted them down
for giant spaghetti strainers.

- You wanna turn on the radio?
- I get it, it’s all Enya.

Nope, all morning Zoo teams.
Just patter. No songs.

Oh and for TV?

Wall-to-wall reality television,
but not the good kind.

It’s like their whole planet
was bought by Discovery.

Jesus Christ, this is depressing.

That’s definitely
what they’re going for.

Look at this shit!
They dyed their sun institutional grey.

That’s not easy, kinda impressed.

And all of it is thanks to.

Oh god. I’m a murderer.

Oh no, Morty.
What you did was much more indirect.

I understand your concerns,
but look around.

With what’s coming
in from intergalactic spaghetti trade,

we’ve decreased our debt,
are making a lot of money.

We’ve got clean energy...

That space where you paused is where you
should have said "mental healthcare."

Alright, we had to put our fingers
on the scale, a little.

But if we stop this, the supply chain
crumbles and kills the global economy.

How many people will suffer then?

Okay, tough problem,
definitely a spicy meat-a-ball.

But we can fix it. Right, Rick?

- You mean me. You want me to fix it.
- A moment?

Yes, I want you to fix it.

None of this would have happened if
you’d been honest about the spaghetti.

Morty, I lied to protect you,
you told the truth to hurt me.

I can’t travel the galaxy with you

if every time we come near a fucked-up
system you leap into its wires

and electrocute yourself.

I promise to stop.

- You what?
- If you help me,

I promise I’ll never look under
the curtain at a Rick thing

to figure out what’s bad about it,
ever again.

And you can never say no to me.

What are you, Keith Raniere?

- For two weeks.
- Fine.

My grandson kissed my ass so I’m in.

Okay, so, w-we just need to figure
out something else besides

people to put in the cans, right?

But people are the spaghetti,
that’s the whole thing.

But what if they weren’t?

- I’m listening.
- Me, too.

I mean,
what if we make something like a person.

Like...
Rick you’re always doing clones, right?

What are you suggesting here?

A sped up lifespan
and indoctrination program?

Limiting their exposure to the world

and convincing them that becoming
spaghetti is their destiny?

I won’t be delicious for them!

I love you, CLONE-5617B!

That was some speed run
of Never Let Me Go.

Spoilers, Rick!

I guess all clone stories turn
out the same way.

So. We’re back to the regular people,
regular suicides?

No, hold on, hold on.
we can do this.

Maybe we make them less...

...people.

How much of a people
do they have to be to become spaghetti?

Grey areas. My specialty.

Subject one.

No frontal lobe, no empathy centers.

Otherwise the same
physiology as a person.

Unfortunately, to this guy there’s
no difference between life and death.

So, no spaghetti.

Then there’s this one.

It’s in horrible, unimaginable pain
from the moment it’s born.

Oh jeez, oh no, Rick!!

And so I didn’t even bother to make it
because I knew you’d take issue.

Even though you’d be doing
it a favor by ending its life.

Fuck you.

You might want to examine that
"Trolley Problem" at some point, Morty.

Anyway, here’s the last one.

Kept the brain stem,
internal motor functions.

But essentially just a headless,
boneless torso.

There’s spaghetti inside that?

Theoretically, yes.
The problem is the...

You know.

Could you, Like.

What is that, what are you,
is this charades?

Okay, are you making a fist?

Wait is that supposed to be a phone?

Ah fuck it, just spell it out for me.

Maybe give them...

...a claw-like, hand so they can,
ya know,

- stab themselves to death?
- All you had to say.

Well, this is some solution
you guys have cooked up.

- Spaghetti!
- Technically.

Good enough for me.

We need to fill hundred thousand
cans by the weekend.

So let’s fire up these chunky boys!

Torso’s rights! Torso’s rights!

The new spaghetti sucks!

We want authentic spaghetti!

- Were you...
- Wait, you’re gonna blow yourself up?

Yeah, but if you wanna do it...

Well, you clearly have
a morally superior position so.

Please. Go ahead.

You just want me to kill myself
so you can eat the spaghetti, right?

- Fucking alien piece of shit...
- Fuck you!

Fuck you!

How long does a society
take to collapse?

Let’s find out.

What’s the fucking hold-up?

I’ve got an entire planet
waiting on delivery.

- They say they’re out of spaghetti.
- Then let’s go down there and make some.

Kill yourself, kill yourself,
kill yourself, kill yourself,

I understand. Divert half of the armed
patrols to civil unrest,

the other half to planetary defense.

Take every action
necessary to restore order.

Still didn’t hear much diverting
towards mental healthcare.

The brainstorming is over,
you ghoulish little corpse-eating alien.

You’ve helped enough.

Fuck. We owe so much spaghetti
to so many planets

that we’re all going to have
to kill ourselves.

Slow down, slow down.

Rick can synthesize anything he gets
a sample of, can’t we still try that?

I mean, is there anyone else left
who might wanna kill themselves?

There’s one, but good luck.

Two months to live.

Bedridden, terrible pain...

Why hasn’t he done it yet?

- Hey!
- Fuck you, spaghetti child!

- What gives?
- I’m in pain...

...and I wish I could die.

But I won’t feed your
sick system of profit.

Integrity means living with pain.

What if I told you this would
end the spaghetti trade forever?

- What do you mean?
- I’ll explain on the way.

Did you have a, like a...
euthanasia chamber ready to go?

It’s just a place.

Hey! Hey!
Everyone Stop! Stop!

I have a solution
to get you all spaghetti.

We’re gonna do this one last time.

This guy here, he’s gonna do the deed
and I’ll synthesize it.

This is the Kitty Hawk
of our Wright Brothers flight,

or the fill-in-the-blank
from your fill-in-the-planet.

Now, Fred?
Just think about your life.

This machine will put it on screen
for everyone to see.

When you’re ready, press the button.

- Do you think this is gonna work?
- Trust me.

Maybe, I don’t really wanna know,

How your garden grows,

Cause I just wanna fly.

Lately, did you ever feel the pain,

In the morning rain,

As it soaks you to the bone?

Maybe I just wanna fly,
Wanna live I don’t wanna die,

Maybe I just wanna breathe,
Maybe I just don't believe,

Maybe you're the same as me,
We see things they'll never see,

You and I are gonna live forever.

I said maybe,

I don't really wanna know,

How your garden grows,
Cause I just wanna fly.

Lately, did you ever feel the pain,
In the morning rain,

As it soaks you to the bone?

Maybe I will never be,
All the things that I wanna be.

Now is not the time to cry,
Now's the time to find out why,

I think you're the same as me,
We see things they'll never see.

You and I are gonna live forever.

Maybe, I don't really wanna know,

How your garden grows,
Cause I just wanna fly.

Lately, did you ever feel the pain,

In the morning rain,

As it soaks you to the bone?

Maybe I just wanna fly,
Wanna live, I don't wanna die,

Maybe I just wanna breathe,
Maybe I just don't believe,

Maybe you're the same as me,
We see things they'll never see,

You and I are gonna live forever,

Gonna live forever.

Bon appétit.

Well, fuck.

I think I can speak
on behalf of my people.

We’ve had enough spaghetti.

You did it, didn’t you.

You couldn’t change everyone’s taste,
but you could make it...

distasteful.

- It wasn’t the death, was it?
- It was the complexity of life.

God, what was the point?

If you’re asking whether this was
a story about right and wrong,

the answer is, I don’t care.

- So what do we do?
- Cells consume, Morty.

Life itself is wrong,
and that means death is right.

But you can’t side with that.

So you live, even when it means eating.

And Fred here really did it well.

The hell is this?
Where is the spaghetti?

Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Summer?

- What?
- What’s wrong with Salisbury Steaks?

At least try them.

Holy shit, this is...

the best Salisbury steak I’ve ever had.

Is it actually Salisbury steak?

Do you want to know or not?

No thanks!

Just so you know, it’s really bad.

- Whatever you say.
- Seriously, I’m not kidding.

I won’t tell you but I need you
to know the truth is horrible

so that if you ever find out on accident
you can’t blame me.

Now that’s a deal.

Honestly if you knew
you might kill yourselves,

- that’s the last thing I’ll say forever.
- Good!

Gonna live forever.

That’s where vacuum cleaner bags
come from?

Oh my god.