somethingwithturquoise | Gaia; Galaxy Unknown; Dimension FH-001. Later that Friday [05/28 FT].

After having found a nice spot with a beautiful vista far, far, far away from anything going on involving Gaia and Rick's multitude of alleged children, Jerry Smith sat happily on a log, warmed by a cheerful fire, stripping away the bark of a stick and honing it to a sharp point with his knife, completely unaware (or simply refusing to acknowledge) the dull, unimpressed looks his children had been giving him from across the fire the entire time.

"Dad," Morty, unable to handle it anymore, finally spoke up, "can we please go back and hang out with Grampa's clay people?"

Jerry	And, just like that, Jerry's carefully constructed bubble of happiness was popped. "Why?" he asked, glowering at the stick to avoid having to turn the expression on his son. "Because they might have a Sega Dreamcast?" He did, however, point the stick at them for a moment before returning to his whittling. "Why is it so hard for you two to just let nature in?"
Summer	"Because this sucks ass!" Summer informed him, passionately, practically before he even finished the question. She folded her arms in front of her. "Camping is just being homeless without the change."
Jerry	"Well," Jerry frowned at her, "that attitude is exactly why we're out here. You guys wouldn't last two seconds on your own. You're only happy when you're penned in or drugged up, like some kinda...chicken...or...lemur...Hey!" It was then that he noticed that Summer and Morty weren't paying attention to him anymore, and for a very particular reason. "I told you kids! No phones!"
Morty	"There's not even any service!" Morty informed him, as Summer poked idly at her own screen with a frown of commisseration for the fact that not even her pimped-out, kitted-up phone was picking up anything. "J-just-just let us be happy for a minute."
Jerry	But this was fine. Jerry could handle this. "You know," he ventured, letting a new swing of confidence take him over as he reached for his back, pulling it closer as he pulled out a small, retractable toasting stick and a marshmallow to stick on the end, "maybe if you two stopped whining and let your old man take the reins, you miiight actually learn something." He gently lowered the marshmallow into the campfire for a moment and then, in just a few swift movements, placed it, nice and toasted, between two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate. "Here," he said, offering it out for whoever would have it, "take a bite of this tasty treat."
Summer	It was Summer who took it, after a moment of just staring down her dad because he very clearly didn't have any idea what he was talking about. They wouldn't last two seconds on their own? Did he have any idea of the kind of shit they'd been through? And that was it, wasn't it? Because no. He didn't. He didn't have a fucking clue. And he never would because what was he going to do? Actually listen to them? Like he listened to them so much about not wanting to do this stupid camping trip in the first place? So Summer took the s'more, regarding it with the same level of disdain she was feeling for her father, and then turned that ire on him with the direct focus of a laser. "Oh, you think this s'more makes you special?" she asked. "What? Because someone said 'good job' to you once when you were ten?" She threw the s'more on the ground to emphasize her point. "That's actually really sad, Dad. Let's be real." She stood up, placing her hands on her hips, before the passion in her speech caused her hands to flow with the words. "You've been high-roading us non-stop, forcing us to do nothing in the middle of fucking nowhere, because it's the only way you're gonna level the playing field, isn't it? Because if you move the bar so low," she leaned in, eyes narrowed as she drove the point home, "you might actually seem like you're worth a fuck."
Jerry	And that was...that was... ...well, that was...a lot, and Jerry, a little blindsided by the burst of vitriol from his daughter, was rendered speechless. "Huh," he finally managed to wedge out, sniffling back something else a bit more emotional that threatened to follow it. And, then, a moment later, he slowly rose to his feet. "I'm gonna go take a walk," he decided, slinging his backback over one shoulder before turning away, with his eyes down, though he could still feel the Summer's unrelenting glare following him. Unrelenting, perhaps, until he stopped, turning to look back over his shoulder, and she faltered a little. But not quite enough.
Morty	"Jesus Christ," said Morty, once Jerry was well out of eyesight and earshot and an awkward silence filled with nothing but the crackling campfire settled. "You know who you sounds like, right?"
Summer	And Summer, who was contending with a lot of emotions in that moment, not least of all was at least a little twinge of regret, turned on Morty sharply. "Don't," she warned him.
Morty	"I-I-I'm serious!" he insisted, his voice stuttering in his own wavering bravery, but he knew he could stand up to Summer better than their dad could. "It's...it's almost uncanny, you know? For a moment there--"
Summer	"Grampa Rick," Summer insisted, "does not have a patent on calling Dad out on his shit, okay? Tell me that there wasn't anything in there that he didn't need to hear, Morty. Huh? Tell me. Where is the lie?"
Morty	"I-I just don't think," Morty started, feeling himself get a little heated under the refocused heat of his sister's anger, but he stopped himself to pull it back a little, dropping his eyes to his fingers tapping nervously together. "I just don't think y-you have any right to...to be so harsh on him, like that, you know? I-I mean, we...we barely even see you anymore! Y-you're off with...with your new life, and your...your success and your friends...and...and...that's really kind of hard for him, you know?"
Summer	"How is that," asked Summer, "any of my fault?"
Morty	"It--" Morty balked, looking up at Summer and the cold fury still there in her face, and he sighed, getting up from the log they'd previous shared a moment ago. "I'm gonna go wait....for when he comes back...over in the tent."

And, just like that, Summer realized she'd masterfully managed to cause both her dad and her brother to stalk off in pitiful dismay because of her, and she sucked in a shaky breath before letting it out slowly.

And this, she concluded, glancing down at her phone again and the absolute utter lack of any sort of signal and feeling an urge to just angrily chuck it into the nearest lake, was why camping was clearly the worst.

[[ half the reason I wanted to do this episode was Summer's S'mores Speech. Taken from and ENHANCED *cough* from S04;E09 of Rick & Morty, "Childrick of Mort," there's likely at least one more of these coming at you today; look, I unexpectedly got today off from work and I'm clearly planning to make the most of it with this plot now. Standard NFB, NFI, OOC alphabet soup applies! ]]