Peter sat at the edge of his bed in his studio apartment with his head in his hands. He sighed heavily, slowly stood up, and made his way out of his room towards the kitchen. A bruised, slightly broken, and extremely exhausted-mentally and physically-Peter Parker opened his refrigerator door.
"Of course there's no food in here…why would there be? All my money goes to pay rent for this place. And to make that money, I have to have a job; to have a job, I have to take pictures or go back to working temp jobs. That's not gonna happen." Peter shook his head as he closed the door. "Looks like I'm going back to J.J."
On his way back to his bedroom, Peter was careful to not bump his shoulder against anything or turn too quickly. Any further irritation of his injuries would most defiantly require a hospital visit; and that was the last thing he needed. While peering into his closet Peter really considered putting his costume on before his street clothes, but he gave up doing that a while ago. Instead, he just put on a pair of jeans, a clean white t-shirt, and a white, yellow, blue patterned oxford. Thank God for places like the Salvation Army and Goodwill, he thought. If it weren't for them I'd have to make my own clothes. He examined himself in the mirror to make sure the tape wrapped around his torso was not incredibly obvious. Confident it wasn't, Peter grabbed his keys, slipped his brown leather sandals on, and walked out the door, locking it behind him. He began counting softly under his breath.
"Parker…don't tell me, you're going out to find a job. No, no, no…you've got an interview, right? C'mon Pete, when I said I'd help ya' as much as I can I didn't mean I'd forego your rent. I know you've been goin' through a rough job spell, but you gotta get yourself together." This was Peter's landlord, Alec Crawford, a man he let down about as many times as a north side Chicago baseball team had let their fans down.
Peter sighed and turned to look at face that was full of disappointment. Got up to twenty this time…Mr. Crawford must be slipping. That or he dreads this as much as I do. "Actually, yes, I was going to the Bugle in hopes of getting my photography job back." Peter hardly recognized his own voice. Had his attitude affected his voice as well? "When they let me go, the company was having problems with some of the staff and somehow my name slipped in. I planned on talking to Mr. Jameson and asking him if he would re-hire me." Yeah, that sounded like a load of bullshit.
Mr. Crawford shook his head. "Alright Peter, you come back with a job today and I'll forget about the month and a half worth of rent you owe me. But you have to come back with a job, not just a slip of paper with an interview time on it. You understand me Parker?"
"Yes Mr. Crawford, I understand." This is gonna be about as easy as me trying to take on the Sinister Six without my spider sense. "I won't come back until I find a job."