Berk's jeans met the cover of the old pleather recliner and they made their customary rude sound.
"The Grappling Hook is hiring."
Tom said it enthusiastically, as though Berk's response was gonna be " No shit? Great!"
Berk chewed his middle fingernail.
Spitting a tiny shard of nail into the carpet, he said "I'm not working in a comic book store."
Tom, his mom's only brother that would even speak to him, said " You love comics."
Berk chuckled, one solitary chuck.
" I love booze too, but I don't wanna work in a liquor store. Not lucrative enough."
" You can't drink on parole," Tom said as though it was breaking news.
Berk just nodded.
"You have to find a job," Tom said, this time with just a bit of empathy.
" I'll figure out how to make money.”
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Jimmy Doom's Roulette Weal to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.