South Side, in front of the dilapidated building.
Dexter smiled at Carl. "My personal advice is that you shouldn't just go to school, you should really try to see if you can learn something."
"Because, in my opinion, education determines a person's lower limit."
"Without this lower limit, if you want to do some things in the future, you won't even be able to get in the door; you'll be rejected."
"For example, if in a few years I hand this club over to you to manage, you wouldn't be able to do it. At most, you could only be a bouncer."
Hearing this, Carl's eyes lit up instantly. "Being a bouncer is great. If I don't like someone, I beat them up. It suits me very well!"
Dexter: "..."
Alright, coming from Carl's mouth, there was indeed nothing wrong with that.
Dexter couldn't help but shake his head with a smile, then reached out and rubbed Carl's head again. "Maybe. Then let me ask you, do you want to be a bouncer for the rest of your life?"
"Being a bouncer for a lifetime, earning that little money, you'll probably only be able to find a fierce wife here in the South Side."
Hearing this, Carl was startled and frowned.
Carl didn't want a fierce wife; he wanted a wife like Bianca.
"When you have time, think carefully about what kind of life you want to live in the future. Is it living day by day like Frank, or living a life like Fiona, working yourself to death and relying on others' moods?"
"I won't necessarily be here forever. When I leave, making money won't be as simple for you as it is now."
"Understand?"
Carl was startled again, looking up at Dexter with wide eyes. "You're leaving?"
Dexter smiled. "Not for the time being, but who knows what will happen in the future."
Carl fell silent, lost in thought.
Dexter waited for a short while and didn't nag more. After all, Carl was too young; nagging really wouldn't be useful and might even be counterproductive. So he just smiled and said, "Alright, let's head back."
Carl nodded and silently followed Dexter back to the restaurant.
Returning to the restaurant, seeing Mickey, who had left for something earlier, had returned, Carl didn't delay. He said goodbye to Dexter, took Liam, and got into Mickey's car.
In the car.
Carl genuinely felt that with his brain, he really couldn't figure out Dexter's words, so he asked Mickey, "Mickey, I want to ask you something."
Mickey, with a cigarette in his mouth, heard this and replied unceremoniously, "Spit it out."
Carl was used to it and didn't talk nonsense. "I just told Dexter I didn't want to go to school anymore..."
Carl roughly repeated what Dexter said.
Finally, Carl looked at Mickey and said, "You're uneducated too, and you're living pretty well."
"?????" Mickey glared hearing this. Although he knew Carl didn't mean anything else by this, hearing it still made him quite unhappy.
So.
Mickey casually slapped Carl on the head, of course, not too hard.
"Who are you calling uneducated?" Mickey retorted.
Carl: "????? You are uneducated. I wasn't wrong, was I?"
Mickey: "..."
Fine.
Really can't afford to provoke a retard. No way out.
Mickey didn't hit him again. He took a fierce drag on his cigarette and changed the subject. "You have one more year, going to middle school, right?"
Carl nodded. "Assuming I can get into middle school. Probably a bit difficult, I failed several subjects."
Mickey: "..."
What could he say?
Messing up elementary school like this, truly a talent.
Mickey had to take another fierce drag on his cigarette and spoke up. "Give it a try. It shouldn't be difficult. Even I could get into middle school just by messing around back then. You can't be worse than me."
Carl wasn't sure. "Probably really worse than you."
"Shut up," Mickey found that discussing this kind of issue with Carl could easily anger him to death. He couldn't help but scold him, then said, "Anyway, I suggest you try, just for a year."
"As for what you said about me being uneducated and living pretty well... have you forgotten what kind of person I was before?"
"If not for Dexter, I'd probably be in juvenile detention right now. Then next year, when I turn eighteen, I'd probably go to prison."
"Do you think that kind of life is called living well?"
Carl really hadn't thought in this direction. He was stunned and didn't make a sound.
Seeing this, Mickey felt it was enough and prepared to end this topic. "Carl, it's up to you how you think about this matter."
"If you want to continue living a life like your Gallagher family in the future, then do whatever you want. Going to school or not makes no difference."
"If you don't want to, and want to live a good life, then do as Dexter says and try to learn."
"Some things, if you don't learn them in school, you'll still have to learn them when you enter society, only the price you pay will be greater."
Carl felt these issues were too complicated and nodded somewhat irritably.
Mickey didn't like talking about this kind of thing either. Seeing Carl's reaction, he couldn't be bothered to say more, so he focused on driving to go shopping.
Busy for the whole summer, having some money on hand, Mickey was going to spend it... not all of it, but most of it had to be spent.
---
Under the still somewhat scorching sun.
Sammi pushed Frank all the way.
Approaching the street where the Alibi Room was located, Frank abruptly changed his mind. "Sammi, push me to the Alibi."
Hearing this, Sammi was truly worried. "Oh, Daddy, the doctor said you absolutely cannot drink alcohol right now. Let's go home."
"I won't drink, I'll just smell the alcohol," Frank's attitude was firm.
Sammi hesitated slightly, had no choice but to push Frank toward the Alibi.
At this time in the afternoon.
There were only some idlers chatting and bullshitting in the Alibi, killing time. Most of them were regulars of the Alibi, those old drunkards.
Sammi pushed Frank in.
Seeing Frank appear, the group of old drunkards were more or less surprised.
"Jesus, Frank, I thought you were already dead."
"I swear I saw your obituary in the newspaper a few days ago."
"How do I remember that you indeed died?"
"..."
The group of old drunkards said with surprise and laughter.
Frank wasn't annoyed either. He felt particularly comfortable from the inside out as soon as he came here. He took a deep breath, smelled the alcohol here fiercely, then smiled smugly. "Fxxk you all!!!"
"Even if you all die, I, Frank, will absolutely still be alive and kicking!"
"Just you wait. When you die, I guarantee I'll go spit on your graves!"
Hearing this.
The group of drunkards were also not annoyed; they all smiled.
The fact was, even though Frank was indeed a scumbag, for the group of drunkards, having drunk together at the Alibi for so many years, there really was affection. Seeing Frank wasn't dead, they were all still somewhat delighted.
Accompanying this delight.
The drunkards laughed and made noise again.
"Haha, then let's make a bet."
"See who dies first."
"Frank, to celebrate your narrow escape, I'll treat you to a drink."
"..."
Frank laughed very happily, truly liking this place too much. "The doctor said I can't drink yet, but I remember it. You all owe me a drink. In a week, I'll come to collect my debt."
Hearing this, the group of drunkards responded.
"Fxxk off!"
"Haha, offer expires if not claimed."
"If you don't drink, what did you come here for?"