Gallagher House, Second Floor.
Ian listened to Monica's words, and they resonated deeply with him.
Ian resolutely refused to believe he had bipolar disorder. He just felt a little down, which was perfectly normal.
Who didn't feel down sotis?
So, after hearing Monica out, Ian mustered a bit of energy. "Okay, I'll eat sothing."
Monica bead. "Great, I'll go get it for you."
Monica left.
Ian took a deep breath, struggled to sit up, and slowly shuffled toward the bathroom.
Monica returned to the first-floor dining room. Not wasting a second, she imdiately smiled and spoke to Fiona and Lip, whose faces were filled with urgent anticipation. "He's going to eat. No problem at all."
Willingness to eat was very good news.
Fiona instantly breathed a sigh of relief. Then, a flicker of hope—one that absolutely shouldn't have been there—sparked in her eyes. "Does he really have bipolar disorder?"
It was a profoundly stupid question.
First, Monica herself was bipolar. Second, Monica wasn't a doctor.
Lip instinctively glanced at Fiona. He wanted to say sothing, but the words caught in his throat, and he held back.
Monica shook her head with a smile. "Not necessarily. Don't worry, maybe he's just feeling down."
Hearing this, Fiona furrowed her brow, looking like she wanted to say more but stopped herself.
Monica didn't dwell on it. She quickly plated so breakfast and headed back upstairs.
Ian ate a tiny bit, then lay back down.
Monica offered a few words of concern, then left the room to let him rest.
After eating her own breakfast.
Monica didn't dilly-dally. She got up and left the Gallagher house, heading straight for 2114 North Wallace Street.
Once Monica was out of the house, Lip lit a cigarette. With a serious expression, he spoke up, asking Fiona, "Do you think she's taking her ds right now?"
Fiona gave a bitter smile and shook her head. "In all these years, how many tis has she actually taken them?"
"We can't let her be around Ian too much. Otherwise, Ian might copy Monica and refuse to take ds too," Lip said.
Fiona was conflicted. "Maybe she can help Ian. She is familiar with the illness, after all."
The siblings debated.
Fiona's stubborn hope in Monica beca more and more apparent throughout the discussion.
Lip found this incredibly frustrating.
...
2114 North Wallace Street.
Knock, knock, knock.
Monica knocked heavily on the front door.
Carl had just finished washing up, getting ready to go out and buy breakfast for himself and Peggy.
Peggy could barely move now; cooking breakfast was out of the question.
Hearing the knock, Carl was puzzled. He ran to open the door.
Opening it and seeing Monica, Carl froze. "Mom?"
Hearing this, Monica's face lit up with joy. She bent down and hugged Carl tight. "Oh! Carl! Haven't seen you in a while. You've gotten taller."
Carl was a bit uncomfortable with the hug and squird out of her embrace. "Why are you here?"
"I'm ho! Heard you moved here. Co on, show around," Monica smiled brilliantly, her deanor hinting at a manic high. Without waiting for Carl to respond, she walked right into the house.
In the living room, on the sofa.
Peggy was smoking. She had recognized Monica's voice monts ago. She turned her head, her wrinkled face full of disdain.
Peggy genuinely hated Monica.
And Monica felt the sa way about her.
The two won locked eyes for a mont, neither speaking, then looked away.
Monica made herself at ho, looking around the house as she walked, smiling at Carl. "Carl, this place is actually pretty nice. Where's your room?"
Carl was still confused, not knowing what Monica wanted. He silently led her to his room.
Monica looked around the room, praised it, and then smiled brightly as she tried to persuade him. "Carl, when are you moving back ho? Mom's back now. It's inconvenient for to take care of you if you live here. Why don't you move back?"
Hearing this, Carl didn't hesitate for a second. He shook his head decisively. "I like living here. I'm not moving back."
Monica tried to persuade him so more, but seeing it was ineffective, she gave up for the ti being.
Mother and son returned to the living room.
"Carl, it's getting late. Go buy breakfast," Peggy exhaled a puff of smoke and said to Carl.
"Okay, going now," Carl left imdiately.
Monica thought for a mont and followed him. "Carl, I'll go with you."
The two left the house.
From start to finish, Monica and Peggy didn't exchange a single word.
On the living room sofa.
Peggy lit another cigarette and let out a cold laugh.
That btch Monica was back. Now she would definitely be showing up here often because of Frank...
Peggy truly loathed Monica. Amidst the swirling smoke, she started plotting.
How should I play that btch Monica to death?
...
"Carl, where is Frank?" Walking alongside Carl, chattering nonstop for a while, Monica suddenly thought to ask.
Carl shook his head directly. "He went to the Alibi last night and hasn't co back yet. He's probably either sleeping next to so dumpster or at Sheila's house."
Monica knew where Sheila's house was. Hearing this, she decided to check Sheila's place first and prodded Carl, "Let's go to Sheila's and find Frank then."
"Why look for him? No," Carl refused bluntly.
Monica instinctively wanted to say 'Then I'll go myself,' but caught herself, realizing that sounded wrong. She quickly changed her tune. "Then I'll go myself later. Where are you buying breakfast?"
Carl genuinely felt Monica's nonstop talking was annoying.
About ten minutes later.
After dropping Carl back at 2114 North Wallace Street and saying goodbye with a smile, Monica imdiately turned and walked briskly toward Sheila's house.
...
Frank was indeed at Sheila's house, sleeping soundly in Sheila's bed.
In the first-floor dining room.
Sheila had made breakfast and was eating with Eddie.
Sheila chatted with Eddie while eating.
Eddie really had nothing to say to Sheila, but he didn't want to ruin this lifestyle, so he occasionally offered a perfunctory response.
The dining room was filled with the oppressive atmosphere typical of a strained middle-aged marriage.
Knock, knock, knock.
At that mont, there was a knock on the door.
Sheila hurried to open it. Seeing Monica, her heart tightened, and she looked worried. "You're here for?"
Monica smiled happily. "I'm looking for Frank. He's here, right?"
"He is, but you..." Sheila really didn't want to let Monica in but didn't know how to refuse politely. She was at a loss for words.
Before she could finish.
Monica walked right in.
Seeing this.
Sheila's head buzzed, and she panicked. "Shoes! Take off your shoes! You can't wear shoes inside."
Hearing this, Monica was cooperative enough. She kicked off her shoes quickly, strode into the living room, and shouted, "Frank! Frank!!"
In the second-floor bedroom.
Frank heard Monica's voice in his groggy state and thought he was hallucinating. He slowly opened his eyes.
Stunned for two seconds, realizing he hadn't misheard, Frank jolted awake and sat up. "Monica?"
"It's ! I'm back!" Hearing Frank's voice from upstairs, Monica replied as she dashed up the stairs.
Monica ran into the bedroom where Frank was in one breath. Seeing Frank, she laughed excitedly. "Frank!"
Seeing Monica with his own eyes, Frank got excited too. "Monica!"
The next second.
Monica moved with incredible speed, leaping onto the bed and tackling Frank. "Oh! Frank!"
Monica didn't know Frank had lost his manhood. Shouting, she stripped off her clothes in the blink of an eye.
Then, Frank's clothes gradually ca off.
One second, two seconds, three seconds...
Uh oh.
Awkward. Very awkward. Extrely awkward.
Monica was dumbfounded, completely bewildered.
Frank was also incredibly embarrassed, unable to speak.
After being stunned for several seconds, Monica blinked, recovered a little, and asked Frank in disbelief, "Frank, what happened to you? Where's the junk?"
Frank gave a bitter smile and explained, "One day, it just... fell off..."
Monica: "???? That thing can just fall off?"
"The doctors don't know why either. It just fell off," Frank said helplessly.
Monica had never encountered this situation before and didn't know what to say.
Frank's mind raced, and he spoke up. "I still have my mouth and hands."
Hearing this, Monica grinned.
The two continued to play.
First floor.
having put Monica's shoes into a plastic bag, Sheila was in no mood for breakfast. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up, wringing her hands anxiously.
After a while.
Sheila couldn't take it anymore. She walked quickly to Eddie, who had just finished breakfast and was leisurely reading the newspaper. She sat down in front of him, looking at him with a face full of misery.
Eddie noticed Sheila's gaze and didn't want to engage.
But Sheila just kept staring. It was really uncomfortable...
Eddie had no choice but to put down the newspaper and ask Sheila, "If you have sothing to say, just say it."
Sheila forced a small smile. "Then I'll say it. I'm worried Monica will steal Frank away. Can you help ?"
"????" Eddie was confused. "How can I help you?"
"You could go steal Monica away. That way, she won't steal Frank..." Although Sheila knew this thod was sick, for Frank's sake, she had to do it.
Hearing those words.
Eddie was shocked to his core. He blinked several tis, genuinely suspecting he had misheard.
It took him a few seconds to process it. He wanted to confirm. "You want to go fxxk Monica?"
Sheila didn't hesitate for a second. She nodded decisively. "Yes."
Eddie: "????"
Eddie fell silent.
The truth is.
Eddie used to be a believer. But later, he stopped believing for a while and started the chaotic lifestyle of the Jackson household... Currently, Eddie was still in the phase of temporarily abandoning his faith...
But even so, this was a bit too extre.
Eddie instinctively couldn't accept it and remained silent.
Seeing this, Sheila got anxious. "Eddie, help . This is good for you too. You not only get to fxxk Monica, but you can also piss off Frank to death."
"I know you hate Frank. Isn't this perfect?"
Hearing this.
Eddie thought about it.
Actually, she had a point.
It's just...
Sheila, this crazy woman, was getting sicker and sicker.
If this kept up, she'd probably turn into a full-blown lunatic.
Eddie thought about it, pondered again, and gave his answer. "I'll try. If it doesn't work, don't bla . Also, I'm doing you a favor. I expect a return later."
Hearing this, Sheila bead instantly. "Okay, okay. Go up quickly."
Eddie put down the newspaper, stood up, and walked slowly upstairs.
A mont later.
Inside Sheila's bedroom.
Eddie smiled faintly at Monica. "Can I join? Monica."
Eddie was actually quite handso...
More importantly, the mood was right, and Frank was... useless.
Monica, whose emotions had never been stable, was instantly tempted. But she didn't agree imdiately. Instead, she asked Frank, "Frank, what do you think?"
Hearing this, Eddie imdiately beat Frank to the punch and spoke to him. "Frank, is living here comfortable?"
Frank was very smart. He understood Eddie's aning instantly: if he didn't agree, he wouldn't be able to live here anymore.
And...
How should he put it?
He did fxxk Eddie's wife. Now, letting Eddie fxxk his wife back seed fair.
After a quick ntal calculation, Frank smiled at Monica. "Sure."
Monts later.
Eddie joined the ga.
Outside the bedroom.
Karen listened to the voices and smiled slyly. Suddenly, she felt that a dad like this wasn't so bad after all.
With that thought, Karen headed downstairs, ready to execute the mission Dexter had assigned.
Dexter had just texted her the mission.
It was simple, just one sentence: Sleep with Mickey. Create an opportunity for Mandy to walk in on it.
Karen thought this mission was almost too easy.
After all, Mickey had wanted to sleep with her before.
Easy!
"On it," Karen text back with a smile.
---
In the vacant lot on the outskirts.
Mickey, a cigarette in his mouth, stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with Carl. He tried to sound as casual as possible. "Did Ian disappear? Mandy said she still can't reach him."
Carl had almost no guile. He answered truthfully and directly. "He didn't disappear. He's just sick. He seems to have bipolar disorder. He's been sleeping all the ti."
Thump.
Hearing Ian was sick, Mickey's heart clenched, and he got nervous. "Bipolar? What is that? I've never even heard of it."
Carl had heard of it, but explaining it... that was asking too much.
Carl shook his head. "I don't know what kind of sickness it is either. But my mom has it too. It's bad. She acts like a crazy person."
After speaking, Carl had an idea. "You can look it up online."
Hearing this, Mickey, driven by nervousness and worry, didn't waste a second. He pulled out his phone, opened the browser, and got ready to search.
But.
He froze.
The reason was simple.
Mickey didn't know how to spell "bipolar."
So awkward.
"How do you spell 'bipolar'?" Mickey had to bite the bullet and ask Carl.
Carl: "????"
Like Carl would know.
"I don't know. You don't know either?" Carl asked.
Proud as Mickey was, he refused to answer. He thought for a mont and chose to call Mandy.
"Mandy, have you heard of bipolar?" The call connected, and Mickey got straight to the point.
"Yeah, I have. Why?" Mandy didn't understand.
"Tell what it is," Mickey didn't answer, just asked.
Mandy was even more confused, but she explained anyway. "Bipolar is a ntal illness. People who have it get super excited one minute, and then super depressed the next..."
Mandy spilled everything she knew in one breath. After finishing, she realized a possibility. "Who has bipolar?"
Mickey, as usual, didn't answer. "Text the word 'bipolar'."
Dropping that sentence, Mickey hung up directly.
Shortly after.
He received the text.
Mickey hurriedly searched online. His face was full of panic, and within that panic, a growing sadness.
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