Shameless

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.

Think of all the luck you got.

Know that it's not for naught.

You were beaming once before.

But it's not like that anymore.

What is this downside.

That you speak of?

What is this feeling.

You're so sure of?

Round up the friends you got.

Know that they're not for naught.

You were willing once before.

But it's not like that anymore.

What is this downside.

That you speak of?

What is this feeling

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.

Upbeat rock music.

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? -

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.

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?

Rock music.

Stop!

Got you, fucker.

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.

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 paystubs

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.