Rick shook his head. Now Artik was alive. Given, the old dude would spend his time managing Vegeta and Nova Roma, but still. At least he could relax.
But then, the TARDIS sputtered and sparked. Ryuzaki cursed and read the technical read-outs while hanging desperately onto the console; the gravity was all topsy-turvy. He muttered, "Let's see.... 'Last user: Watashi Artik. Malfunction count: 0. Intentional malfunction count: 9,351.' Jesus! 'Years used: 10,450' Yeah. Really meant it when he said he's been busy.... 'Current user: Hideki Ryuzaki. Malfunction count: 0.75. Intentional malfunction count: <><>.' Terrific! 'Years travelled: 3.4' Hmm. Fat lot of good this did!" He freed one of his white-knuckled hands to comb through a manual that looked like Artik had tried to throw it into a sun. "Right. 'If gravity is warped, try talking to her sternly.' TARDIS," he scolded her, "Put the gravity back to a fit state right this instance!" It worked. Rick walked out contently as he went to a pub in good Ol' Londontown. He sighed disdainfully at the television.
"And the One... Onion... Orion... Oneiroi are still continuing to attack Heaven. Cosmopolis is still crowded to the brim. Namek's frog pandemic is dire once more. A supermassive..." the news was interrupted by the barkeep changing it to a football game.
Rick sighed and decided to really get knackered. When he walked outside and into the TARDIS, much to his disdain, the sobriety filter activated, "Darn it," he scolded her, "the one time I want to drive home drunk!" He sighed and took his cleared head for a stroll.
"You know it isn't so easy," a slightly ethereal voice said quietly.
Rick turned to see a strange looking alien holding a ball linked to his neck, where spaghetti was attached to his chin. "What?" Ryuzaki asked.
"You must continue to fight for the universe," the noodleman said simply.
"Right, of course." Rick sighed and walked off.
