A New Day, Morning.
The weather was great. The sun was shining bright, and it was already getting a little hot.
Dexter lit a cigarette and took Big Joe out for a walk.
Stepping out of the yard, Dexter exhaled a cloud of smoke, pulled up the system interface, and used the [Suicide Party] card he had drawn yesterday.
The guest list had been finalized last night.
Fifteen pieces of trash that no one would miss were officially invited to the party.
Closing the system, Dexter smiled, recalling the original plot.
How many junkies were in this place? How many people with perfectly functioning limbs chose to live like animals...
There were quite a few just in the holess shelter alone.
Later in the original series, Comrade Frank even rallied a bunch of holess people and founded the "Holess Shelter"...
The South Side of Chicago was a place where unbelievable things happened constantly.
Maybe that's exactly why the South Side is the South Side.
Dexter, having nothing better to do, mused on these thoughts as he walked.
Returning to his front door.
Dexter was surprised to find Carl standing on the porch. It looked like he'd been waiting for a while.
"Morning. What's up?" Dexter asked with a smile.
"I wanted to ask you sothing," Carl said, his expression looking a bit distressed.
Dexter unhooked the leash, letting Big Joe go inside on his own, then walked over to Carl. "Shoot."
"My grandma is getting worse. Is there really nothing we can do?" Carl frowned as he asked.
Dexter shook his head. "Stage four pancreatic cancer. There's not much point in treatnt..."
As he spoke, Dexter had an idea. "But, you could make her last days a lot more comfortable."
Hearing this, Carl perked up, his eyes lighting up. "How?"
"Go buy her a lot of painkillers, so weed, whatever. Anything to ease the pain. Ask Mickey for help; he can definitely get the good stuff," Dexter replied.
"Okay!" Carl nodded vigorously, then turned to leave imdiately. "I'm gonna go find Mickey."
Carl was a man of action. Once he knew what to do, he did it. No hesitation, no overthinking.
"Wait. How about this? You call Mickey instead. And skip work this morning. Co with to do sothing," Dexter had another idea.
Carl was confused. "Do what?"
"Go arrange your grandma's funeral," Dexter replied.
Carl went silent for a few seconds. "Okay."
"Then make the call, and co inside for breakfast. Bring so back for Peg when we're done," Dexter said.
Carl nodded and agreed.
Death, for Carl, could actually be a good thing.
Experiencing death, seeing death up close... it seed like sothing that would make Carl grow up fast.
It happened that way in the original show.
Whether it would happen now, Dexter wasn't sure. But it didn't hurt to try.
Dexter's House, Kitchen.
Bianca hadn't seen Carl in a while. Seeing him now, and knowing Dexter cared about the kid, she was very welcoming—sort of a "love , love my dog" situation.
In all his life, Carl had never t an adult woman as nice as Bianca. He really liked her. His mood improved significantly, and his behavior followed suit. He was acting almost like a normal kid.
Dexter sat at the dining table, watching with a grin, unable to help himself.
If Carl ets more won like Bianca who can be a positive influence, maybe his life will turn out better, Dexter pondered.
Monts later.
Three people, one dog, and one bird were having breakfast.
As Carl ate, he kept sneaking pieces of delicious bacon to Big Joe without a second thought.
Generosity was one of Carl's biggest virtues.
After eating.
They packed up a breakfast for Peg.
Carl got into the car with Dexter and Bianca.
They drove for a short while and arrived at 2114 North Wallace.
Dexter thought for a mont and decided to go in and check on Peg's condition. He also wanted to see if there was a chance to discuss the "end of life" plan with her.
Although, theoretically, a sane Peg wouldn't off herself inside the house, you never know.
If Peg committed suicide in the house and scared the sht out of Carl, that wouldn't be good.
Entering the house.
Heh.
Seeing Frank busy working around the house this early in the morning with a sour look on his face, Dexter couldn't help but want to laugh.
Normally, Frank would be passed out drunk sowhere at this hour.
Now, because of Peg, it was like he was a completely different person. How entertaining.
Peg sat in her wheelchair. Seeing Dexter, she grinned. Then, she decisively pulled a bill from her pocket and ordered Frank, "Frank, go buy a pack of cigarettes and a six-pack of beer. Hurry up. Be back in fifteen minutes!"
Frank really couldn't stand being ordered around like a slave by Peg. He started grinding his teeth. But then he thought about the twenty grand he'd get after she died...
Frank swallowed his pride, hurriedly grabbed the money from Peg's hand, and smiled cooperatively. "Okay, back in a flash."
Dropping that line, Frank walked out fast.
Dexter could tell Peg sent Frank away on purpose, so he looked at Carl.
Carl had just placed the breakfast in front of Peg.
"Carl, go wait in the car. I need a word with your grandma," Dexter said.
Carl didn't think much of it and obediently did as he was told.
In the blink of an eye.
Only Dexter and Peg were left in the house.
Peg lit a cigarette and asked Dexter, "You have sothing to say to ?"
Dexter shook his head gently. "Not really. Just wanted to see what stage you're at."
Peg smiled and said calmly, "I'll hold on for another week. Then it's ti to go. I've had enough."
"Decided how you're going to go?" Dexter asked, his tone equally calm.
"Haven't decided yet," Peg shook her head, turning to look at Dexter. "You got a suggestion?"
"How about an overdose?" Dexter did have a suggestion and offered it directly. "Painless, fast. Plus, it'll make sure Carl rembers never to touch that sht."
Peg blinked. "Your level of concern for Carl... sotis I really don't get it. But whatever, doesn't matter. Overdose it is."
"Not in the house. Don't scare Carl. Do it in the backyard," Dexter added.
Peg had long since made peace with her impending death... where she died didn't matter to her. "Fine."
"Thanks," Dexter said.
Peg smiled and didn't say anything else.
Dexter turned and left.
---
After dropping Bianca off at the hospital, Dexter drove Carl to find a funeral ho.
An interesting phenonon in Arica is that there are tens of thousands of funeral hos across the country. Statistics show there's one funeral ho for roughly every ten thousand people.
The funeral business is a serious industry.
Of course, that makes sense.
After all, death is very common in this land.
And unnatural deaths are extrely frequent.
Shootings, drugs, explosions, car accidents... all kinds of things happen.
Generally speaking, this land is truly magical.
With so many funeral hos, finding one wasn't hard.
Before long, Dexter found one that looked decent from the outside. He parked the car but didn't get out imdiately. He looked at Carl, who had been silent and despondent the whole ride. "What are you thinking about?"
Hearing this, Carl turned to Dexter. "I don't want Grandma to die..."
Dexter reached out and patted Carl's head. "Everyone dies. Your grandma lived to be over seventy. That's already pretty good."
"In a place like the South Side, a lot of people don't make it to that age."
Carl had limited intelligence. He understood the words, but he couldn't accept the logic. "I don't care if other people die. I just don't want Grandma to die..."
Dexter smiled. "Too bad we can't stop it."
Carl fell silent, not knowing what to say.
Dexter comforted him for a while before Carl finally got out of the car and followed him into the funeral ho.
Funerals are a business in Arica. As such, the director, who had spotted Dexter's luxury car pulling up, imdiately greeted them with enthusiasm.
Feeling this warmth, Dexter actually felt a little weird.
This is a fcking funeral ho. Is the "make yourself at ho" vibe really appropriate?
A funeral involves a lot of decisions.
Cremation or burial? If burial, choosing a casket. Determining the scale of the service. Arranging the venue. Picking a cetery plot...
Lots of things. Had to tackle them one by one.
"Burial," Dexter answered the director.
"Then let's go pick out a casket," the director said. The truth was, this guy knew who Dexter was, and more importantly, knew how rich Dexter was.
simply put, Dexter was a whale.
"Carl, you pick the casket. What do you think?" Dexter suggested to Carl.
Carl was stunned.
"Peg is your grandma. She would want you to choose it," Dexter explained.
Carl heard this, felt he understood, and nodded. "Okay."
After a long ti.
Carl chose a casket that looked quite luxurious and cost over five thousand dollars.
The funeral director almost danced with joy.
The profit margin on a casket at that price point was terrifyingly high.
With the casket chosen, the rest followed procedure.
After dealing with everything until almost 11:00 AM, most of the arrangents were decided.
Dexter took out his checkbook, wrote a check, and then left with Carl.
"Let's go to the restaurant. I'll treat you to lunch. Sothing good," Dexter said with a faint smile, seeing Carl still looking down as they walked out.
Carl looked up slightly and was silent for two seconds. "Thanks... Can I pack so to take back to Grandma?"
"Of course."
After lunch at Dex Restaurant, carrying a takeout box, Carl said goodbye to Dexter and hurriedly left. He then called Mickey to pick up the drugs he asked for and walked briskly ho.
2114 North Wallace.
Seeing the drugs Carl brought back...
Frank's eyes instantly glazed over, and every neuron in his brain lit up!
Want! Want it so bad! Must have it!
Frank decided without hesitation that he would find an opportunity to steal those drugs!
Peg didn't notice Frank's reaction for the mont because her attention was focused on one question...
Carl didn't have the brains to think of buying these drugs on his own. Soone had to have told him to do it...
Who?
Dexter!
The question was, when did Dexter tell Carl to do this? Before or after that brief conversation this morning?
Peg wanted to know, so she asked Carl.
Carl answered everything truthfully.
Listening to him.
Peg felt an inexplicable chill run down her spine.
In this mont, Peg felt like Dexter had arranged her fate long ago...
Furthermore, thinking back on other people and other things, including Carl...
Heh.
Dexter, who always smiled, looked sunny and cheerful, had a good temper, and seed harmless... how many people's fates had he arranged? How many was he arranging right now?
That was truly fcking creepy.
Peg was forced into silence. At the sa ti, she fully realized that Dexter was far more terrifying than she had thought!
...
This noon, Dexter's terrifying nature revealed itself.
The Apartnt Building.
The six pieces of trash selected for the Suicide Party calmly left the apartnt one after another, heading in various directions across the South Side.
Shortly after.
One of the scumbags stepped into heavy traffic on a busy road, becoming the first to exit the party.
---
The Gallagher House.
After the chaos of the night, Ian slept until this afternoon. He woke up feeling a little hungry, got out of bed, and went downstairs to find sothing to eat.
Lip had been waiting for Ian on the couch. seeing him, he didn't waste a second and called out imdiately, "Ian. Co sit with for a bit."
Hearing this, Ian turned to Lip with a cold expression, knowing exactly what Lip wanted. "I'm gonna eat first. I'm hungry."
Based on Lip's experience... Ian knowing he was hungry ant he was actually getting better. This manic episode was almost over...
But right now, Lip couldn't be sure.
After all, not many hours ago, Ian was wandering the streets trying to find God.
"Okay. There's lunch in the fridge," Lip hesitated but replied.
Ian didn't respond. He walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, took out food, sat at the table, and ate silently.
As he ate, Ian mulled over an idea.
He wanted to leave this place.
He felt that Fiona, Lip, and the rest couldn't understand him at all.
Here, he felt suffocated.
He wanted to be with soone who understood him.
Who?
Monica!
He planned to go visit Monica later.
With this thought in mind, Ian finished his lunch. After thinking for a mont, he moved to sit on the couch next to Lip.
After sitting down, Ian didn't beat around the bush. His expression remained cold as he asked directly, "What do you want to talk about? I'm not going to the ntal hospital. I'm not sick."
"..." Looking at Ian like this, Lip couldn't control a wave of dazed confusion.
In his daze, Lip felt like the person in front of him wasn't Ian anymore, but Monica.
This made Lip feel incredibly panicked.
Lip could accept Ian having bipolar disorder, and he was willing to take care of a bipolar Ian, but he absolutely could not accept Ian becoming a maniac like Monica...
"Ian..." After the daze passed, Lip's thoughts raced. He forced a grin and spoke up. "When did you and Mickey get together? How co you never told ?"
Mickey...
Hearing the na, Ian's expression changed drastically. He said decisively, "I don't want to hear his na ever again!"
Hearing those words.
Clearly seeing the shift in Ian, Lip thought for a few seconds. He rapidly replayed Ian's strange behavior over the past few days and felt he understood.
Ian and Mickey had a problem—a big problem—and then, Ian's bipolar disorder exploded...
User Comments
0 comments from readers