Rick and Morty_122

Oh man, buckle up, because if we're diving into a huge yap session about Rick and Morty comic issue #12 (yeah, I'm assuming that's the "book 122" you meant—typos happen in the multiverse, and honestly, with 60+ issues in the original run plus revivals, numbering gets wonky, but this one's a gem from the first arc that shifts everything), we're talking about one of those pivotal, gut-punch issues that captures the show's soul in panel form. Released back in March 2016, written by Tom Fowler (who takes the reins from Zac Gorman here and just nails the chaotic energy), with art by Marc Ellerby that somehow makes the absurdity look both grotesque and hilarious. It's the start of the "Head-Space" arc (issues 12-14), and if you haven't read it, spoiler warning: we're yapping full throttle, no holds barred. This thing is a masterclass in subverting expectations, roasting family dynamics, and reminding you why Rick Sanchez is the ultimate nihilistic troll-genius. Let's unpack this bad boy layer by layer, because holy burp, there's so much to chew on. First off, the hook—oh boy, the hook. The issue opens with Jerry, poor hapless Jerry, griping about the toaster. Rick's modded it to make "perfect" toast, but Jerry wants his burnt, sad-dad edges, you know? It's such a perfect, mundane entry point into the madness. Beth, ever the enabler with a scalpel-sharp edge, tells him to just bug Rick in the garage. Jerry shuffles in, expecting maybe a half-assed fix or a belittling rant, but nope: BAM. Severed. Rick. Head. Wired up like some Frankenstein fever dream, eyes glassy, mouth agape in eternal cynicism. Jerry freaks—screams his lungs out—and the family piles in. Beth's dissecting the implications like it's a horse autopsy gone wrong, Summer's scrolling her phone in denial, and Jerry's just... Jerry, blubbering about how this is "proof" Rick's finally pushed too far. They can't find Morty anywhere (classic), so boom: assumption mode activated. Both dead. Funeral planning commences. It's this hilariously somber beat where the Smith family unravels in real-time, and Fowler leans into it hard. The dialogue? Gold. Beth and Jerry's passive-aggressive marital autopsy turns into full-on blame Olympics: "You always resented him!" "He turned our lives into a circus!" Summer storms off, slamming doors, because who wants to mediate that when your grandpa's noggin is a science fair reject?But here's where it gets Rick and Morty—that switcheroo that makes you cackle and cringe. Cut to: Rick and Morty, alive-ish, getting auctioned off like interdimensional cattle to some sleazy alien bidders. Morty's got that wide-eyed "Aw jeez, Rick, what'd we do now?" panic sweat, and Rick's just smirking through a exposition dump that's equal parts brilliant and belittling. See, the head in the garage? Not their Rick. It's a knockoff from some death dimension—a parallel hell where time ticks faster than a caffeinated squirrel on Flurbos. Our duo got zapped into this alternate Rick's dying brain-meat, reliving his final memories like a bad acid trip through existential regret. They're piecing together how that Rick croaked (spoiler: hubris, always hubris), while the real family back home is picking out caskets and therapy plans. The art pops here—Ellerby's style is all jagged lines and exaggerated expressions, making the auction scene feel like a twisted game show. Aliens with tentacles bidding in space-credits, Rick quipping "Higher, you cheap bastards, this Morty's got resale value," and Morty just whimpering in the background. It's peak discomfort humor: you're laughing at the absurdity while feeling that twinge of "damn,How can Grok help?

full İngilizce ve çok kötüydü hiç hayal ettiğim gibi değildi

bu Rick and morty ye benzemiyor bile tamamen saçmalık