Well, well, well, look who's back.
Where the hell you been?
At home, sitting on your asses,
practicing social distancing?
Washing your hands 20 times a day
while us essential workers risked our lives
making sure you have enough toilet paper
and wheat flour for your sourdough?
What a bunch of pussies.
And now y-you can't remember what happened
last season on Shameless?
Get out of here.
Go on, get.
Get! I will piss on your leg.
I'll piss on your leg.
What do you got, Gallagher?
Sanitation Department is in bed with the real estate developers.
It's all overseen by this cat named Otis.
Otis wants you to bust into that house
and take a shit in the living room.
Okay, took a shit in somebody's living room.
You're gonna make one hell of a cop someday, Gallagher.
Thank you, sir.
- Who the fuck is this? - Julia.
They said she was young, but...
- Who are you? - I'm Sandy...
her girlfriend.
We have an arrest warrant for Deborah Gallagher.
Statutory rape of a minor, Julia Nicolo.
- Fuck. - We got a runner!
Stop! Police!
So this Keg Zone stuff is actually working?
I got 20 fully paid Keggers already.
I'm not moving to Milwaukee. I told you that.
Come look inside the house with me.
It's got two beds, big backyard.
I don't need to look inside.
Jesus.
- Needs some work. - Two bedrooms?
Yeah.
I now pronounce you husband and husband.
- Now? - Yes, now.
- Synced and corrected by ChrisKe - -- for www.addic7ed.com --
_
Chicago, the city of broad shoulders,
the Windy City,
a city with a multitude of voices,
languages, and a vibrant history.
From the four corners of the Earth,
people come to the city on the lake
to work and help create
a truly modern metropolis.
Yep, from all four corners
of the Earth, all right.
Polacks and krauts and dagos
and the lowest of the low, the Irish...
Starving spud famine refugees,
like us Gallaghers.
Every important moment in Chicago history,
a Gallagher was there.
The Chicago Fire, Mrs. O'Leary's cow,
that was Great-Great-Grandma Gallagher's Holstein.
The union stockyard workers,
the poor bastards butchering 6,000 steers a day,
covered in blood and shit,
all Gallaghers.
The Black Sox score-fixing scandal,
a Gallagher.
No, he wasn't a player. He was a gambler.
Set the whole thing up. Made a bundle.
Prohibition, Capone, you think it was all Italians?
Hell no.
It was Gallaghers that provided
the homicidal muscle.
The riots at the Democratic Convention in '68,
yep, that was me.
Part of the Chicago Eight.
The Chicago Eight?
I thought it was the Chicago Seven.
It was eight.
I was at a White Castle getting burgers
for Abbie and the guys when the pigs broke in.
So they only took seven and put 'em on trial.
Where we're standing, right here,
on Ashland Avenue,
there were 20 bars on this block 100 years ago,
each and every one of 'em owned by a Gallagher.
Now, we got three hipster coffee shops.
It was seven before the COVID took down the weak.
Chinamen did us a favor with that virus.
Who the hell needs seven coffee shops?
Hey, do you know why they call
this part of the South Side Back of the Yards?
- Sure, it was right behind the... - No, no,
not because it was behind the stockyards,
because it was the back of the Gallagher yards.
Every single house owned by a Gallagher.
Is any of this true?
The Gallaghers built Chicago single-handedly.
Come on, I'll take you to Leavitt Street.
I'll show you the tenement
where Paddy Gallagher wrote The Jungle.
_
Oh, no, no.
Let him cry.
He's teething.
The hell does he need teeth for anyway?
I don't know.
We could drug him.
Break up a downer or something.
Frank used to rub whiskey on our gums.
Then he'd dump us in the tub.
Without water, I hope.
Not always.
I think I'm gonna die.
Can you die from lack of sleep?
Oh, my God. Okay.
- I'll get him. You start coffee. - Okay.
Hey, where's the Mr. Coffee?
Oh, I bought us a French press
at an eviction yard sale.
What?
It's by the stove. Just add hot water.
There's a new bag of coffee in the fridge.
Huh.
Hey, um, maybe we need to try something else,
you know, with Fred teething.
Yeah?
Like what?
I don't know, we could do, uh,
I don't know, one night on, one night off.
You know, one of us stays at my old house
or your dad's, gets a good night's sleep
while the other one stays here.
We could, uh, trade off, you know?
Okay.
Dibs first night.
Who got evicted?
Aniya, that girl who was working
at the beauty supply shop on Ashland.
Is that the one that, uh, bellied up?
Oh, my God.
Yeah, yeah. One of many.
Hey, I need you to run some errands for me today...
Grocery, paint store.
Is that a problem?
No. Glad to.
Mm.
- I'm gonna go brush my teeth. - That's a good idea.
Stop!
Got you, fucker.
Outstanding, Gallagher.
Thank you, sir.
Why didn't you shoot him?
I knew I could catch him, sir.
Uncuff him. Give me the gun.
That's how it's done, cadets.
Never shoot a suspect in the back. You wait for 'em to turn around,
and then you shoot 'em in the face.
Good to know, sir.
Why are you shaving your head?
'Cause I'm goin' bald.
But you're bald now, Kev.
Exactly. Now no one will know I was going bald.
Science.
Should I just pour the weed right in?
Yeah, I think so.
Go see if those gummies are setting up right.
They need a few more minutes.
Hey, no sampling the product.
Excellent, Gemma. Nice and tight.
Amy, good, but a little less product
in the next one, okay?
Kev, what are the girls doing?
Their tiny fingers are perfect.
Look, this is why they used little kids
to dig stuff out of machinery back in the old days.
They outlawed that, Kev. It's called child labor.
Well, we're a family business now.
We all need to pull our own weight.
No. Girls, go finish getting ready for school,
and don't forget your masks.
I was gonna have 'em wash their hands
- when they were done. - Girls, wash your hands.
Did you pick up the display case?
Yeah, it's in the truck.
Isn't this exciting?
Legal weed in Chicago?
Can you believe it?
Remember Diego, my roommate from the group home,
the one with the glass eye?
He got 20 years.
Now we can just sell it right out in the open.
Not out in the open. We're not licensed yet.
And we're supposed to be closed anyway.
Amy?
Gemma.
Girl's got a gift.
Mm, morning Mr. Milkovich.
Morning, Mr. Gallagher.
Five times last night. I'm feeling kinda raw.
How about you, stud?
I could go another five right now.
- Mm - Mm-hmm.
Some big talk. You ready to back it up?
Gotta get to work.
Call in sick.
We need the paycheck.
All right. Your loss.
Hey, you making breakfast for both of us?
No. Didn't know you were gonna get up.
You didn't get up yesterday.
Well, throw some more bread in that bitch.
Sorry, I only make toast for husbands who have jobs.
- Good thing I have a job. - No, you have a laundromat owner
who's terrified you're gonna smash his face
- into a dryer again. - Exactly.
I'm sure he'd write you fake pay-stubs
to give to your parole officer if I asked him.
That's not the point. We need more money coming in.
All right.
Fine, I'll hit the Stop & Shop on Rush.
Hey, no. I don't wanna be some sad-ass prison widow
catching a bus to Stateville every weekend.
No? Want me to get some shitty-ass
minimum-wage job like you,
hauling boxes around a warehouse?
No.
There aren't many other jobs left around here, Mick.
It's either Amazon or digging graves.
Until you decide to do one or the other,
my shitty minimum-wage job is the only money
we got coming in.
- And the bills are piling up. - Uh-huh.
Okay, fine.
I'll start digging into the wedding present money
instead of saving it to get our own place.
Do what you gotta do, lover.
Me, I'm gonna go take an ice bath.
My asshole's on fire.
Just not right.
I mean, Julia's only ten months younger than me.
Why do I have to plead guilty
and wear this fuckin' ankle bracelet
and do all that community service
when Carl did the exact same thing with Julia
but they didn't arrest him?
Well, not exactly the same thing.
He wasn't banging Julia and her mom at the same time.
No, that judge just hates lesbians.
I mean, did you see the way that he looked at me,
at Julia?
It was disgust.
Mm, I don't know.
He seemed pretty into it to me,
especially when, uh, Julia was describing
how you used to go down on her for hours.
It's looking good, sweetie.
Okay, it's time to get ready for school.
No more Zoom. Real school. Let's put your shoes on.
How long do you think it'll be before the school
shuts down again this time?
I bet a week.
UPS just dropped this off.
It came!
- What is it? - Gotta put 'em on.
Put what on?
Let's go.
_
Hmm. What do you think?
Everything?
Welding, plumbing, carpentry, household repairs.
I mean, it could have multiple meanings.
What?
Liam, no.
Hello, Debbie Does Everything?
Um, I've got a rusty pipe.
You think you could shine it up for me?
Look at my truck.
That doesn't tell you that I'm a handyman?
Debbie Does Everything? My sewer line is clogged.
Can you please come over and plunge it for me?
Huh.
You see that house with the "For Sale" sign?
The Sons of Columbus burned a cross in the yard
the first night the Jacksons moved in.
But the Jacksons were tough.
Used to be sharecroppers in Alabama.
A racist bonfire didn't scare them.
Mr. Jackson died of the 'VID last spring.
He was a janitor over at Mercy.
Getting a little dry here, laddie.
My memory elixir!
Hey...
thanks for caring for what I have to say, by the way.
Well, you're the only person who responded to my flyer.
"Units start as low as $170,000."
Time was, you could've bought a whole block down here
for that much money.
Everything's changing.
The Prius crowd is moving in,
taking advantage of the folks who lost their jobs
in the Corona hoax.
- Oh, hey, girl! - Hey!
Let's go over by the park.
I'll show you
where the best crack house in Chicago used to be,
see if any of the old gang's still around.
Okay, Franny.
Remember, no hugging anybody.
They say anything about going back
to alternating days, yet?
Jesus, I hope not.
Boss won't let me bring Tommy to work anymore.
- Who's the new guy? - Uh, Barry.
What'd he do?
Rapist, I think.
Yeah, he just got out.
His son's kinda cute, though.
He's the spiky-haired one
right there in the Slayer shirt, you see him?
Hey, Slash! Anyone gives you shit,
I just want you to punch 'em in the throat
like I showed you.
Barry, you're over the line, man.
The fuck'd you say?
That line... It's exactly 500 feet
from the school's entrance.
If you cross it, the cops could bust you.
Oh. Okay. Thanks.
- Appreciate it. - Yeah.
Debbie, misdemeanor... Statutory rape.
But she was only ten months younger than me.
Barry, statutory two, with felony.
But hey, she looked 20.
I love you, Franny.
Remember, no hugging the other kids.
IOUs?
What the fuck is this?
I go to get our money for the utilities
out of our wedding cash, and all I find is IOUs.
You spent all our money from the wedding?
Relax, you know I'm good for it.
That's not the point. It's not your money.
It's our money.
Okay, so I spent some of our money.
On what?
I don't know. Stuff.
It's-it's not your money to spend.
We decided we were saving it to get our own place.
No, no. You decided we were saving it to get our own place.
I said we should use the wedding money
for us to have some fuckin' fun.
Yeah, one of us has certainly
been having some fuckin' fun.
Oh, quit being a bitch. I'll pay it back.
Oh.
We're supposed to be making these decisions together.
Okay, so can I use some of our money to buy a beer?
- One beer. - Sure. One beer.
- Yes. - Great. So what about lube?
Can I use our money to buy lube?
You're the one who likes that expensive strawberry shit.
I'm good with spit.
What about your meds? Ain't cheap.
That comin' out of your money or our money
- or is that coming out of... - There isn't any your money
or my money, there's only our money.
That's what happens when you get married.
Sure.
I gotta get to work.
Okay, I'm off.
You have a good day with Daddy, all right?
I thought you were gonna fix the wheel on that jogger yesterday.
Yeah, no. I got caught up with this.
Okay, well, do it, and take Fred for a run.
Fresh air's supposed to help babies sleep at night.
And then I need you to go by the paint store
and pick up four gallons of this:
- Seafoam Morning Mist. - Mm-hmm.
And then can you swing by Voodoo Java
and get me a skinny grande latte with extra foam
and drop it by the salon?
I've got ten clients today, and I am not gonna make it
without my midday caffeine.
So how much did we pay for this?
It's a '47 Chief.
Mm-hmm.
3 grand.
Just 'cause things are tight,
you know, the salon was closed for a long time,
your hours being cut back at the shop, so...
Voodoo Java?
I know, but it's so good.
Well, you know, this'll be worth, I mean,
around 12 when I'm done, maybe even more.
Mm.
- All right. - Yeah.
- Bye. - Muah.
Don't forget to wear your mask.
I don't wanna get that shit again.
Ha.
I made a big mistake, son.
See, I rented this house
without asking your mommy first,
and now I'm basically her bitch.
Gallagher, you ready for this afternoon, cadet?
- Sir. - Department's counting on you.
I won't let you down.
Don't let that oath mess ya up.
- Sir? - Yeah, you know,
the truth, the whole truth, nothin' but the truth...
It's all bullshit.
You just tell the judge what they need to hear to convict.
The bastard's guilty as hell.
Roger that.
I'm, uh, I'm aware your academy application
included several irregularities.
Irregularities, sir?
Your age, your IQ score.
But with the loss of so many officers to the 'rona,
the bosses are willing to put you on the street,
as long as you do the right thing today.
- I will, sir. - It's not a tough call
to give you a badge.
You're number one in your class in firearms,
choke holds, baton beatings.
Well, what about my classroom work, sir?
You know, state laws, criminal statutes?
I'm kind of a slow reader.
Dead last.
But, hey, you don't have to be an Einstein
to wear the blue.
Bustin' heads is a man's job,
and you are a natural born ass kicker.
So you go in that courtroom this afternoon and kick ass.
- Huh? - Yes, sir.
I like making bad decisions
That's right, Jamie. Keep those ropes movin'.
Your rhomboids are loving it.
Back straight.
Engage those abs.
That's it, Celeste.
That's two more laps.
You got this.
All right, listen up, kombucha drinkers.
The Alibi has special prices
for all your cannabis needs.
Sore muscles?
Anxiety 'cause you're not getting enough likes
for your most recent adorable puppy post?
The Alibi's got two-for-one deals
on all spliffs for anyone wearing
a Kev Fit t-shirt,
which are for sale right over there on that tire.
What the hell are you doing, Dash?
Get your over-educated ass up
and give me another 50 mailbox presses.
- Jesus, man. Are you all right? - It's my crypto.
- Your what? - My Bitcoin.
It's down 30, and I was using it
to leverage my Tether and my Ethereum.
I have no idea what you just said.
Oil futures gutted my portfolio last spring.
So if there's another two-point drop on my cryptos,
I'll have to cover a margin call.
So that's bad.
It's fucking Death Star Order of the Sith
Korriban invasion exploding planet bad, man!
I'll-I'll have to call my-my dad.
- I got you. Come on. - Okay.
_
Blue Dream. Yellow Sunflower.
Purple Haze. Our five-year-old daughter Gemma
rolled those herself.
Pink Peppermint.
Mama's Mocha.
Gorilla... although, I don't recommend Gorilla
for a beginner like you.
Oh, I'm not a beginner.
I smoked a lot of weed in college.
College weed, not the same thing.
Where'd you go to college?
- Kenyon. - Where the fuck is Kenyon?
Ohio.
Yeah, you're a rookie.
Stick with the gummies and the baked goods.
V baked these brownies herself this morning.
Ooh, I love brownies.
You've had these kind of brownies?
No, but they look delicious.
They have a kick. You gotta make sure
you have someplace safe to sit after you eat one.
One brownie?
Jesus, potheads are a bunch of pussies.
I knocked back 15 tequila shots
at my nephew's weird socially distant wedding last week,
- and was fine driving home. - Fifteen?
You check the grill of your car the next morning
to make sure there wasn't blood and hanks of hair?
What's a socially distanced wedding like?
Stupid.
It was one person per pew,
and the bride and groom kissed each other
with their masks on.
Like they're not just gonna go back
to the Honeymoon Hotel and bang boots.
Okay, weed is for old hippies and cancer patients.
Real men drink.
Taylor Swift over there needs a shot of JB, not gummies.
I-I tried weed when Grammy had some for her glaucoma.
Made me sleepy.
Aw, this isn't your grammy's weed, Kermit.
Glaucoma weed is a Prius.
This is a Ferrari at Daytona weed.
We're closed.
City of Chicago says all bars are closed
until further notice.
Go, go, go, go, go! Hide in the back.
- This is what we practiced. - We are absolutely complying
with the mayor's very smart decision
to close all bars and taverns.
Distractions all around
- What's up? - Oh, my...
- The fuck, Kev? - Come on.
Hail 'rona survivors.
What-where is everyone?
Fuck, Frank?
You were supposed to use the secret knock
on the door in the gym.
What? No, no.
I heard somewhere bars are open again.
Three weeks ago, maybe. Mayor shut us all down again on Tuesday.
Well, who the hell can keep track?
And excuse me, but fuck the mayor.
He has no authority to tread upon my rights
as a free American male
to drink my favorite brew in the tavern of my choice.
The mayor is a she, and she has every right to do it, and has.
Come on out, everyone. It's just Frank.
There they are. Do you want to...
False alarm, everybody.
Uh, this is-this is Brad.
He's making a major film about me.
Actually, my name is Alan.
I'm a graduate student at Lake Forest.
Holy shit.
What the hell is that?
Have I finally arrived at Mecca after a long pilgrimage?
Hands off, Frank. We're not offering credit
on cannabis products.
Payment up front only.
Lake Forest? The hell are you doing all the way down here?
My doctoral dissertation
is on neighborhoods in transition
due to the economic displacement
caused by the pandemic.
Well, you've come to the right place.
Lots of economic displacement and transition
going on around here.
Gentrification, my friends.
The ten percenters gobbling up what's left
of the working man's dreams when he's down and out.
Felled by a tiny, lifeless microbe.
We're the last of the Mohicans.
Chicago aboriginals struggling to preserve
a vanishing culture.
Actually, there were aboriginal cultures here before us.
The Miami and the Kickapoo tribes.
Also Gallaghers.
Kev, could we?
Oh, shit, I... pay the man.
- Do you take Venmo? - Hell no.
Holy shit.
- Gorilla? - Yep.
Ohio.
Hey, Mrs. Lionetti, I'm almost done.
Leave. Now.
Huh? I'm almost finished.
- Seven? - Seven what?
- She was seven years old? - Who was seven years old?
If my Tony were still alive,
he'd take you down to the lake, shoot you,
and push you in for the fish.
What are you talking about?
I got a notification. I checked the website.
- What website? - The sex offender website.
And your picture is on it.
This is you, right?
Hey, Hassan, coffee still fresh?
Four hours old.
That's good enough.
Gimme one sec.
- That still a buck? - Yep.
Here you go.
Thank you.
$5.49? Jesus.
He spent all our wedding money on God knows what.
Isn't marriage supposed to be about communication?
Compromise? Agreed upon mutual fuckin' goals?
How's that supposed to happen when one person in the marriage
just goes off and does whatever the hell he wants
without telling the other person what he's doing?
Sounds just like me and my first husband, Juan. No communication.
He sits around the house all day
like we're not in the worst economy since the Depression.
Says we're still on our honeymoon.
- How long you been married? - Six months.
What's he expect us to live on?
The bills are piling up.
Marriage is hard.
You should've worked that shit out before you tied the knot.
Once you're married, it's already too late.
Thanks, Teri.
- Hey. - Hi.
Look at you. You fixed the jogger.
Yeah.
Hello, baby of mine. Hi.
Wow. You're sweating.
I did five miles.
Thank God. You're my savior.
And, uh, two packets raw sugar, right?
- Yes. Thanks. - Here you go.
Did you go by the paint store yet?
I'm heading there next.
Oh. Where's my foam?
Oh, uh, you know, it must've gotten
all mixed in, you know, when I was running.
Oh.
Oh, God.
Delicious.
Thank you.
Both: Muah.
Oh.
Seven! It says Julia was seven years old, not 17.
It's not fuckin' funny.
Everybody's gonna think I'm a child molester.
Well, you sort of are.
It's got my address, my social security number, my email.
God damn it.
I'm lucky if the neighborhood moms
don't show up out front tonight with torches
to hang me from the playground swing set.
Okay, it's probably not that big of a deal.
Look at all these other guys.
- What? - All these little dots
on the map are sex offenders in the area.
Jesus.
There must be 100 of them.
What the fuck is wrong with people?
Hey, that's Mr. Mosier down the block.
I knew it. He was always way too into Halloween.
Nice picture, though.
You're sexy.
I mean, look at that cleavage.
- Yeah, I do look pretty hot. - Mm-hmm.
Oh, shit.
Who the hell is gonna hire me now?
I told Lieutenant Rucker I was undercover,
but he said I wasn't undercover.
But I was. Which is why I'm here today.
What were you asked to do in that house, Mr. Gallagher?
Empty my bowels, ma'am.
- So, defecate? - I did not defecate.
I took a shit.
Can you point to the man
who told you to take that shit?
That's him, ma'am.
Please let the record show
Mr. Gallagher identified the defendant, Otis Grange.
- _ - Mr. Winston.
So, Mr. Gallagher,
you're a police cadet, are you not?
Yes, sir.
And you're 19 years old?
Almost 20, sir.
And how exactly did you get a spot
at the Chicago Police Academy at such a tender age?
Tender? I'm not tender, sir.
I work out.
- I can bench 240. - Good for you.
Did anyone promise you a spot at the police academy
in exchange for your testimony against my client today?
Sir, if you were to work garbage duty
in Chicago for six months,
you'd deserve a spot, too.
Is that a no?
Garbage in Chicago is dirty, sir.
Very dirty.
So no quid pro quo.
Squid pro what?
Were you told that you could enter the police academy
two years early in exchange for your testimony?
And let me remind you that you have taken an oath
in this court to tell the truth,
and only the truth, so help you God.
No, sir.
I got into the academy because they know
I'm gonna be a great police officer.
You understand, Mr. Gallagher,
that lying under oath is perjury,
punishable by up to five years in state prison.
Are you calling me a liar, sir?
Why? Because I grew up poor on the South Side?
Because my father is a drunk and my mother was a junkie?
Because I'm not as smart as you
and you can humiliate me using big words I don't know.
I got into the academy because they know
when we roll up on a gun fight,
I'll be the one running towards the shooting,
not away from it. They know when a 911 call comes in
and it's some bastard scumbag pistol-whipping
a little girl, trying to steal her pink bicycle,
that I'll be there, ready to take a bullet in the face.
O... kay.
There you go. Hey, man.
- Yo, Flavio. - Hey.
I didn't know you worked here.
I thought you were still at Rowdy's Chicken.
Yeah, yeah, Rowdy's closed for good, man.
I survived the first shutdown, but not the second one.
So, my uncle got me a job here.
He's afraid of my mom.
We all are. She drinking again?
Yeah. Waving that gun around.
- Oh, yeah. - Yeah.
That your kid?
Uh, yeah, that's Fred. Oh, he's sleeping.
Hey, look, you got, uh,
this Seafoam Morning Mist?
Uh, sure, yeah. The Monticello Collection.
Supposed to be the colors Thomas Jefferson created
for Monticello.
No kidding. Jefferson, huh?
Yeah, it's probably bullshit,
but the PBR crowd eats it up.
- It's pricey, though. - Yeah? How pricey?
Uh, how many you need?
I don't know, four gallons.
Set you back a little over a hundie with tax.
- Ooh. - Yeah.
Um...
Hey, what about these?
Paint the yoga mat ladies buy and then return
'cause they say it didn't match the sample book.
- Got any blues? - Mm, probably.
Mm, hmm...
Hey.
Oh, wait, what about this one?
Ah, no, they're not the same.
Ah, it's close enough. You got another one of these blues?
Uh...
Yeah, yeah.
All right, great.
Now we just need two more.
That's not bad.
Hey, what do you think about those?
And blend together in the mixer,
pour the mixed paint
back into the cans.
You write Seafoam Morning Mist on those cans,
there's an extra tenner in it for you, all right?
- Deal. - Thank you, thank you.
Thank you.
Hey, we're all set, okay, bud?
We're almost outta here, all right?
You check to make sure he's still breathing?
I think he wet his pants.
Where the hell'd you get that?
On the floor. Joe College didn't finish it.
Pretty good shit. I'd give it four puffs.
- How's the Blue Dream? - Mm.
"You'll float on a downy bank of clouds
on a bright summer's day."
The Pink Peppermint?
"Hints of an herb garden,
Alice in Wonderland, and the Mad Hatter."
What flavor are the gummies, lime?
- Mm-hmm. - Jesus, where the fuck are we?
Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory?
What about the Purple Haze? Is it really strong?
Uh, I'm not too sure about that one. We just got that one in.
But our daughter Gemma... She's five...
- She rolled those herself. - Oh.
Maybe I could be of some help.
Why don't you order one of each,
and I can sample them for you
and then rate them on my world-renowned Gallagher Puff Scale?
- Puff Scale? - One puff being a glass of ros�
on a warm, summery day.
Five puffs being you wake up naked in an alley
with something stuck in your ass,
no idea where the fuck you are.
Leave the customers alone, Frank.
Two Pink Peppermints and ten gummies, please.
Christ. Do we really need
another legal intoxicating substance?
- That shit's a gateway drug. - Weed?
We're 20 years into the next century, Nancy Reagan.
It's really a question of personal freedom.
Why is it any of your damn business
if I choose to smoke a fat one after dinner?
Or shoot up in the privacy of my local Denny's bathroom?
It's my life. My body, my choice.
Your problem, Tommy, is you think
knocking back boilermakers
while your ass is stuck on that stool
is something that all red-blooded
white American males are supposed to do,
while smoking weed is a Black folk thing.
The only reason why marijuana's been illegal
for the last hundred years is because
poor Black people in the ghetto were smoking it.
Marijuana prosecution was criminalized racism.
Now that white people decided they like smoking it,
it has to be made legal.
Can't make lily white kids go to prison
for having a couple of blunts.
That's it. That's how we stop it.
We've been getting gentrified
because it's gotten too safe down here.
The murder rate was at an all-time low
before the 'VID, right?
Rich people weren't afraid to move down here.
But now that we've had a few good riots,
burned a few bougie stores,
I'll bet you the gentrifiers are gettin' nervous.
All we gotta do is make the Yards dangerous again.
Make sure the murder rate is rising.
Spill some blood.
What? We have to shoot people?
No, no, not just any people.
The right people.
Shoot a couple of Millennials, like Alan here.
Oh, ho, the gentrifiers would be on the first Uber
back to Bucktown.
It's a little extreme, don't you think?
Well, you don't have to kill him.
Just wound them. Get on the news.
Make the South Side dangerous again.
That's the Chicago I loved.
A lot of bleeding.
Well, I should probably get going.
Oh, hey! It was so great meeting you.
- Take care! - Not that door. Back door.
Don't be a stranger.
He sure acts like he's having a pretty great time.
Hey, you know, we should try it.
No thanks. I'm not a loser.
It's great for the immune system.
Also the libido. I've had epic sex on weed.
If you don't wanna smoke it, why not try a brownie?
They're all-natural and delicious, too.
Who doesn't love a brownie?
Okay, one brownie.
- Tommy? - Nope.
Mmm, these are delicious.
Come on. What are you, chicken?
Chicken? A-are we in second grade?
Fine. Oh, God.
Fine, gimme the damn brownie.
Not bad.
Oh! Hey, if you're giving free samples, can I...
- Going down, sir? - He's going down.
Congratulations, Gallagher.
You're gonna get to be one of the best of the best,
a goddamn Chicago police officer.
Thank you, sir.
- Hey. - Hey. Shh.
- Naptime? - Yeah.
Now he sleeps.
He'll be up all night later. He's teething.
Have you tried Frank's whiskey trick with the tub?
I'm pretty sure that's considered bad parenting now.
I'm pretty sure that was considered bad parenting then.
What's up?
Oh, the whole marriage thing is harder than it looks.
Do you and Tami share your money?
We're not married.
You say so.
So how do you handle your cash?
Do you put it all together, or just some of it, or what?
Here, hold this wrench, will you?
Yeah.
The money? Uh...
Uh, I guess Tami kinda runs things.
So you just give her all your money and that's it?
We don't really have enough money to worry about it.
But, uh, truth is,
I don't really care much about money.
And she cares a lot.
Me and you, we never had much of anything growing up,
and we always managed to get by, right?
- Barely. - Lemme see.
Tami, she always had enough.
Ever since this pandemic, she's worried we won't.
It's weird how people with money
are always afraid of losing it
and all poor people can think about is spending it.
But do you decide what you're gonna spend money on together?
Well, there's really not much to decide.
We're, uh, pretty much broke at the end of the month.
Why?
You and Mick having some money troubles?
Yeah, I make it, and he doesn't.
What, you didn't wanna talk about any of that stuff
before you got married?
I figured we just agreed on how things were gonna work.
Guess not, huh?
Yeah. It's my mistake, I guess.
Well, gotta talk about it.
Right? You compromise, all that couple shit.
Look, you, uh, love each other,
Right?
- Yes. - Okay, so,
gotta get on the same page about how this marriage thing
is supposed to work.
You sure I can't just get him to do
everything the way I want?
Pretty sure, yeah.
Look, we didn't have parents who could show us
what a relationship was supposed to look like.
We gotta figure out that shit as we go.
The hell was that... Dr. Phil?
Good Housekeeping.
It's on the rack at the well-child checkup.
Can you at least take the mugshot
with my cleavage off the site
and get Julia's age right?
Yes, she was 17, not seven.
Well, then check the damn court records!
I'm on probation... would I be on probation if she'd been seven?
Really?
You can get probation if you diddled a seven-year-old?
That's really fucked up.
Yes, please. Thank you so much.
Okay, she said she's gonna correct Julia's age,
but they won't do anything about the mugshot.
Well, I'm getting a lot of hits.
On what?
Your new Instagram account.
What new account?
@DebbieHotLesbianConvict.
I put it up with your cleavage mugshot.
"Wrongly convicted lesbian welder."
Would it have happened if she wasn't queer?
Would anyone have cared if she wasn't a lesbian?
It's blowing up.
Everybody wants to hire you.
Jesus, really?
Well, lots of lesbians, anyway.
And some seriously creepy old white dudes.
Hm.
HotLesbianConvict.
You two okay?
Did you eat all the brownies?
I had three, and Tommy had four.
- Four? - We were hungry.
- Kev! These fools ate all the brownies. - And the gummies.
Jesus!
Are they okay?
I'm fine.
I just gotta hit the head.
Yeah, yeah me too.
Do you have a gas can around here, Kev?
What are you going on about?
Making the South Side even more dangerous.
I'm thinking we set a cop car on fire.
The cops have to show up with riot gear, tear gas.
I always loved this song.
Yeah. Me too.
? But the pain still grows ?
? It's no stranger to you and me ?
? I can feel it ?
? Coming in the air tonight ?
? Oh, Lord ?
? Well, I've been waiting for this moment ?
? For all my life ?
? Oh, Lord ?
? I can feel it in the air tonight ?
? Oh, Lord ?
? Well, I've been waiting for this moment ?
? For all my life ?
? Oh, Lord ?
? I can feel it coming ?
? In the air tonight ?
? Oh, Lord ?
? And I've been waiting for this moment ?
? For all my life ?
We need to be honest with each other, all right?
No more secrets.
- No more secrets at all? - No.
Nothing but truth.
We should've talked about what we expected from each other
before we got married, but we didn't,
- so now we have to. - Look, if this is about
the wedding money, I'm gonna pay it back, man.
Yes, but it's also about...
It's about what we want the marriage to be.
We need some rules.
Yeah, I'm not great with rules.
A mutual understanding of how shit is gonna work.
What does that mean?
Like, how we spend money together,
joint purchases, monogamy.
The hell is that?
Not fucking other people.
Oh.
We just talking fucking,
or are we talking about blow jobs, too?
I think blow jobs should count, yeah.
Right.
You really never wanna fuck anybody else?
I mean, I... if I'm being honest,
I'm not really sure either.
It's just kinda hard to imagine
that I'm never, ever gonna wanna
fuck anyone else, you know?
But I also know I...
definitely don't want you to fuck anyone else.
Well, hold on, that just means you wanna be able to fuck other people
but you don't want me to be able to fuck other people.
That doesn't sound fair.
Okay, so we're both monogamous
or we both get to fuck other people.
- Yeah. That sounds fair. - Mm-hmm.
What do you wanna do?
I asked you first.
I don't know.
Okay, uh, I'll tell you what.
We'll both each write down what we want,
then we'll turn our answers over at the same time.
Great.
So we both turn 'em over on three.
One, two, three.
_
Hey, turn your fuckin' paper over.
I think I spelled monogamy wrong.
- I spelled monogamy wrong! - Will you let me...
I spelled it wrong! Oh, shit, he-ey-ey-ey!
Look who's a real cop now.
Yep. Badge, gun, and everything.
- You graduated? - Tomorrow.
But they gave us the uniforms today
so we can wear 'em to the ceremony.
Fuckin' fantastic. No more parking tickets for me.
You don't have a car, dumbass.
- Hey. - Hey.
- Where y'all goin'? - Lip and Tami's.
Gotta finish dry-walling the living room.
Hey, y'all get enough chicken?
Two buckets of extra crispy.
You two coming or what?
- Hell yeah. Hell yeah. - Uh...
Yeah.
Let's do it.
Hey!
How am I supposed to open the door
- when I don't have any hands? - Yo!
- What's up, Lip? - My man.
- Hi! We have arrived! - Hi! What the fuck?
- Hi. - Yo! Hey.
- We made it. - Hi.
Look at you.
- Check it out. - Wow. Nice.
Hey, gimme a hammer. I wanna break some shit.
- You wanna help? - I guess so.
There you go.
- Yo. - Yo.
Hey, you guys talk?
Uh... sort of.
- Yeah? - Yeah. We'll figure it out.
Hey.
Uh, hey.
- Everything good? - Yeah, yeah.
All right. Hey, I wanna show you something.
Yeah?
What do you think?
Uh, it's beautiful.
Definitely worth the extra money.
Absolutely.
Okay, I am starving.
Hey, Tami.
Hey.
Hey, Fran, you wanna help Uncle Carl?
This is my Chicago,
the Chicago I love.
Lip's got a baby now.
Debbie's got a kid and a rap sheet.
Carl's gonna be a cop.
Didn't see that coming.
Ian's married to a Milkovich.
Really didn't see that coming.
Family looking after family.
That's the South Side way.
The Gallagher way.
Yeah, this is our Chicago.
It's disappearing fast.
But before it's gone,
we're gonna enjoy every fuckin' minute of it.
_
Are you Hot Lesbian Convict Lady?
Would you, um, like to buy some cookies,
Hot Lesbian Convict Lady?
I'm only seven.
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