Yo! This books hit 5k!
Whoop!
And I sort of..
um..
shaved my head!
Yeah!
Whoop!
Continuing on to the the story,

John Pov
So Alex and I applied for jobs.
It was sort of strange, I'm not going to lie. Even though it's a small corner shop, I felt sort of..
down graded I guess?

I've been wearing the same clothes for a week and living on a bench, so I don't exactly look good.

When you go to interviews, people wear ties and shit like that. I'm wearing a worn plaid shirt and awful striped blue shirt that looks like it belongs in 2006.

Yes.
I'm saying 2006 fashion was fucking awful.

We all knew it was awful too so don't even say I'm wrong. I think the worst thing you can say to someone is that they look like they're stuck in 2006.

Because the 90s weren't completely and utterly awful, and now isn't really too bad but 2003-2006 was just...
ouch.

The cringe is literally psychical.
If you showed me a picture of myself in 2006, I would close my eyes and sink into my chair due to cringe levels.

Actually no.
The worst insult is probably telling someone they look like 2003 Fergie.

I wish I was sorry.

The talking in the interview wasn't bad, but as you can tell I was unreasonable uncomfortable with my 'business attire'.

"So How'd your interview go?"
I asked Alex as we walked out.

He ate a cracker and shrugged.
"I look pretty bad, but the talking was ok." He said.

"Fucking same,"
I groaned sitting down on our bench.

I ate a cracker, watching people walk by. We've lived on the bench for three days but I've already gotten used to seeing the same people everyday.

The guy at the counter still gives us crackers and water, which is nice.
He's a good person.

Alex and I stopped doing our fake coughing and stutters next to him.
I don't know his name, but he knows mine and Alex's.

"It's my birthday in two days."
Alex said.

"I know."
I told him.

"Being twenty is probably the least exciting birthday. I mean,
I'm already in double digits,
already an adult,
and still can't drink in legally in the U.S." He said.

I shrugged.
"When did that ever stop anybody?"
I asked.

"True."
He muttered.

"I sort of miss New York." Alex said.

"Me too. Arizona doesn't have the same smell of pollution and giant ass rats."
I said.

"Don't forget the Newsies," Alex added. "And lawyers left and right," I said.
"And people sweating ecstasy and vodka everyday," He said, eating another cracker.

"And the crowded streets,"
I said, looking around.

"Oh and guys taking a piss on that one building..what was the building?"
I asked.

"..I think it was Goodwill?"
He suggested.

I snapped my fingers.
"That's the one."

"Hey we should find a goodwill. Maybe get clothes that aren't complete shit." He said.

"Do you think people piss on the building here too?" I asked.

"Probably not. I think people are nicer in Arizona." He said.

"What part of New York are you from again?" I asked.

"Brooklyn."
He replied.

Damn.
Brooklyn?
They are tough ass motherfuckers.

No wonder Alex took breaking his nose, and cutting his wrist.

Maybe it's because of the army.
But seriously, Brooklyn guys are insanely tough.

Get in trouble with one of them, and you'll have a bloody nose and need crutches within minutes.

"What bout you?" He asked.
"Queens. I was in Manhattan for a while though." I told him.

"Where were you born?
Queens?"
He asked.

"Nah.
Carolina.
South Carolina.
I was there till I was fifteen.
Where you born? In Brooklyn?"
I asked him.

"Nope. A place called Nevis. A little island in the Caribbean." He told me.

"Sounds nice."
I muttered.

He snorted.
"Yeah I wish."

"Whats that supposed to mean?" I said.

"One, most people there are..a little mean. Not everyone, but to when I was a lad, everyone pretty much was an asshole towards me.
'Whores son.'
That's what they'd call me.
Or they'd call me 'Hamilton's bastard.'
Or just plain old
'bastard'.
Needless to say, I didn't go outside much." He told me.

"Damn." I muttered.

"Why'd you go to Brooklyn?" I asked.

"Why do you think? I was escaping that hellhole." He said.

"...Were you a Brooklyn Newsie?"
I asked.

"Were you a Manhattan Newsie?"
He mocked.

I rolled my eyes.

"But really? If you were an orphan, and in Brooklyn..then you'd almost automatically be a Newsie." I said.

He glared at me.
"Only for a little bit."
He muttered.

"So you were!" I exclaimed.

"Shut up about it already, would ya?" He hissed.

"What? What's wrong with being a Brooklyn Newsie?" I asked.

"As stupid as it may sound, I still fear Spot, the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies. Just saying his name is..I don't know man." He said.

I sighed.
It was quite between us.

"I hope we get those jobs."
Alex said softly.

"Me too, kid. Me too."