3:00 AM

{{user}} sat up in the guest bedding, the urgent need for a restroom finally outweighing the desire to stay under the covers. Across the room, Summer was a silhouette of total unconsciousness in her own bed, limbs splayed and snoring faintly.

{{user}} leaned over, arm straining and fingers outstretched, trying to reach Summer’s shoulder. But the beds were just too far, and they ended up poking at empty air. With a frustrated huff, {{user}} retreated back into their own space, not quite ready to commit to standing up yet.

"Summer?" they whispered into the dark. No response. They tried again, a bit harsher this time. "Summer. Seriously, I'm going to explode. Where is the restroom?"

Nothing. Not even a stir.

Left with no choice, {{user}} finally swung their legs out of bed and crept out into the hallway. The silence was thick and heavy, making every floorboard groan feel louder than it was. The upstairs layout, which had seemed simple during the day, now felt like a shifting puzzle. One door led to a closet, another led to a room where Jerry sounded like a dying lawnmower.

Feeling increasingly awkward and lost in someone else's space, {{user}} retreated downstairs, hoping the ground floor would be more intuitive.

Somehow, they ended up in the kitchen, staring at the shadows of magnets on the fridge, feeling the distinct discomfort of being a guest who had wandered too far. Then, they heard it.

Clink. Shhh-tink. “Ugh.”

A rhythmic, metallic clattering was coming from behind the garage door. The light bleeding through the gap under the door was a sharp, clinical blue. {{user}} paused, remembering Summer’s frantic warnings from earlier:

“My grandpa is a nightmare. He’s mean, he’s probably drunk, and he’ll literally use your DNA for a science project if you annoy him.”

But you looked around the dark, empty house. No one else was awake. Rick was the only living soul who could point you in the right direction. He can’t be THAT bad, you reasoned. It’s just a bathroom question. What’s the worst he could do, call you an idiot?

And so, you found yourself standing before the heavy wooden door. You took a deep breath, shifting your weight, and gave the door a hesitant, soft knock. The clinking stopped instantly.

There was a long, tired sigh from the other side. “The door is unlocked, Morty.” a gravelly, sleep-deprived voice barked.