Bonnie isn’t interested in Carl’s money (he has none) or his charm (he has negative amounts). She is interested in his survival skills. When they first properly connect, Bonnie is stealing food from the school cafeteria. Carl, recognizing a kindred spirit, doesn’t judge her. He helps her.
Carl, desperate to impress her, dives headfirst into the family business: crime. He starts small—boosting bikes, selling stolen goods. But Bonnie pushes him further. She isn’t malicious; she’s hungry. And Carl, who has never been loved for who he is, mistakes her desperation for affection. The centerpiece of “The Legend of Bonnie and Carl” is a scene so tense and so perfectly executed that it rivals Breaking Bad for pure suburban dread. Carl and Bonnie decide to rob a corner convenience store. It’s not a bank. It’s not a mansion. It’s a dingy bodega run by a tired, elderly Korean couple who have seen it all. Shameless 4x9
Carl thinks he’s won. He thinks he’s the hero. He buys Bonnie a cheap necklace from a vending machine and tells her he loves her (in the awkward, stilted way only Carl Gallagher can). This is the tragedy: Carl believes that crime is love. He believes that violence is a stand-in for stability. Frank and Monica’s parenting—or lack thereof—has created a boy who can only express care through chaos. Bonnie isn’t interested in Carl’s money (he has