cats and shit.

“That is pretty neat,” I thought. “as someone who likes both Rick and Morty and tie dye, I am vaguely interested in buying that.”

But then my senses came to me. As I stood at the window, H&M purchases in one hand and my phone in the other I suffered an Scrubs-like internal monologue.

“What are you doing Max, you can’t wear that to school. It would ruin your reputation as a pretentious boarding school educated Andy Warhol enthusiast. You would be roasted to a crisp. The lads would laugh you into extinction. Even the guys who like Rick and Morty. And if your Tumblr audience saw you wearing that you would be burned to a crisp.”

“But you love that show. That shirt would look great with your overalls. You like Rick and Morty. You wasted several days of your life binge-watching it. When have you ever cared what people thought? Your apathy is your defining feature. Besides, it isn’t as though you create Rick and Morty Musicallys and write incest fanfiction. It’s a shirt. A shirt you like. Buy it, you have money.”

I took two confident steps towards the entrance before I stopped.

“What if while you’re wearing it someone walks up to you and simply says “I’m Pickle Rick!” What will you do? You will punch them. You will be arrested for assault and spend two years in prison. Your life will be ruined. The conviction will mean you cannot get a job. You will have nothing but the shirt on your back. A Rick and Morty shirt.”