Chapter 4: In which Morty reaches the mailbox.


Morty reached the mailbox, and realized he had forgotten his keys. He was a dumb son of a bitch like that. He walked back to his door and found that he had locked himself out. He walked back around his apartment building to the open, lone window out of his apartment, and looked in. There was no sign of his bird friend. Morty sat there, in his fancy suit, and tried to figure out the best way to get in.

 

“If it catches on the latch, Ill rip my fancy suit, if I go in feet first, I could break my legs splitting stepping in. I should take off my fancy suit, feed it through the window, and slide through head first. The fancy suit will break my fall, and my legs wont hurt so I can walk back to the mailbox.”

 

I mentioned he was a dumb motherfucker, didn’t I?

 

Morty stripped his pasty, emaciated frame down to his boxers and dribbled his fancy suit in. He stood there, nearly bare, in the shiny Minnesota light, shiny teeth shining. He took a deep breath, and in an uncharacteristically graceful maneuver, dove straight through the window. And landed face-first.

 

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