The Morty is a strange skinny creature with an electronic social life and appalling personal hygiene. Although it bears no arms in a literal sense (aside, that is from the other literal sense, which is not covered in the scope of this humble document), one should approach The Morty with extreme caution. A sturdy clothes peg on the nose doesn't go astray either.
The Morty is a creature of the cold climes. It prefers to huddle in dark dingy corners of dank dusty rooms, staring into strange glowing boxes, which appear to give off the meagre amount of heat by which The Morty avoids freezing completely solid.
The Morty is not on a diet. In fact, it eats continuously in a vain attempt to plump up. Just a little. The Morty's diet appears to consist almost entirely of Coke (the drinking kind), various varieties of crisps and the odd sausage (the eating kind).
The Morty has used a wide varity of alternate names. Among the most notable are:
- Da Mortynat0r
Um, that's about it.
The Morty does not like music. As a substitute, it listens to various genres of random noise, for which it has developed strange yet somehow mildly endearing names, such as "Hard House", "Trance", "Hardtrance", "Hardstyle", "Hardcore", "Housecore", "Hardhard", "Paris Hilton" and other such frivolous nonsenses.
A small collection has been taken up by concerned acquaintances of The Morty with the aim of correcting this serious character flaw. Please, have a heart, donate to the Give The Morty Some Goddamn Musical Taste Fund today!