FULL CHAPTER HERE —> AGAINST MY WILL 16

How the hell is this line eleven deep?Eleven.On a Thursday.Eleven-forty in the morning and this many people wanted a hotdog. Do none of you have jobs or something? He wasn’t being hypocritical, of course, mostly because he didn’t have one. Not unless standing here listening to the guy at the front try to consider the topping options counted as a career.After ninety seconds, it felt like it.Bro. It's kraut or no kraut. He adjusted the strap on his duffel, edging it up his too-skinny shoulder. There's two options.Being Green Lantern also wasn’t a job… yet.For one, he didn’t get paid for it. For two… well, he’d only really started yesterday. All in all, it was pretty much being a hero as a hobby over everything else. And I didn’t have to go bald to do it. He snorted as he adjusted the bag one more time. Yay me, right?The duffel bag had been weighing him down since 8 this morning, Orin hauling the thing all over Queens because the green-black bag had his whole — current — life in it. Granted, a bunch of shirts, some dollar store briefs, a toothbrush, and about five hundred in change rolled up in a sock wasn’t much of a life but he could make do.If anything, he was doing better than most homeless people. I’m setting some high bars for myself man. Orin couldn’t help but snort as he moved up six inches with everybody else, the kraut guy finally leaving the line. Intergalactic space cop and above-average bum. Straight up the Hal Jordan lifestyle.Granted, his homelessness was more by choice this time. So yeah, above average.He’d had a basement maintenance room all to himself, slop sink and pipe walls and stained mattress — his little squatter’s paradise. Really, he technically still had the basement, more or less, considering he went back there three or four nights a week. Sometimes five, if it was rainy.FULL CHAPTER HERE —> AGAINST MY WILL 16