#sirensummer

@sirensummer

“A-are you sure I look a-alright?”

This was probably the half dozenth time he’d asked his alternate dimension granddaughter about the quality of his appearance, but Plug Rick couldn’t help it. Today was the day that they were going to the Smith house for dinner, and well…

He was nervous as hell. After all, he was showing up as a plus-one, and it wasn’t like he’d gotten in a whole lot of family time lately between the drug-dealing business and the whole no living family of his own thing.

@sirensummer

Up until now, Rick had been having the time of his goddamn life.

The last couple of hours had passed in an indistinguishable blur of party liquor and powdered substances arranged in neat lines that complemented the excitement of being caught up in a vortex of sweaty bodies pressed close, wildly thrashing in time to an infectious beat. The speakers vibrated under the bass, his head felt like it was full of cotton, and all things considered, Rick figured that he really couldn’t have chosen a better place to get high and let his self control lapse. It felt just like the good old days.

In fact, he’d become so accustomed and confident, so comfortable in his environment that he figured, hey, why /not/ step into the heart of the growing mosh pit and exchange a few blows? Yeah. It’d /seemed/ like a good idea, right up until –

Until a balled fist swung out of the morphing wall of people and drove knuckles squarely in his solar plexus.

“–OOF!” He wheezed as the breath was subsequently forced from his lungs in one huff, eyes going crossed and spittle flying forth from his limp lips. It took him brutally off guard, destroyed the safety of his enjoyable buzz and wiped the grin right off of his face, going as far as to buckle knees and send Rick toppling to the dance floor in a heap of pitifully breathless old man.