Hey to everyone! This is not the first fanfiction that I've written but it's an idea I got this morning while being in the Christmas spirit…and being extremely sugar high. There is a character in this story that is directly-indirectly based upon me, but you won't find out until the second chapter, which I will post tomorrow, if all goes well. I plan to post the last chapter on the 26th—yet again—if all goes well. That's a lot of hope, but I'm getting into the Christmas spirit, so don't blame me.

Disclaimer: you'd better watch out, you'd better not cry, you'd better not pout I'm tellin' you why…Then the Newsies will belong to me and only me. But seeing as how you've been good this year (darn personal values) they don't...yet

Chapter 1

Dear Santa Klaus,

The newsie seemed unhappy with such a simple beginning, he quickly tore up the small piece of paper and started again. It would be too bad if the man got offended because he was addressed too familiarly. The newsie thought hard and wrote slowly.

To: Chris Cringle

Sir;

I would like to report in this letter that since the 'incident' I have been as well-behaved as possible. I have had some set backs, but have overcome most of my temptations with a toss of the head and a resolution that I really need what I'm asking for this year. I am hard on my boys, but I'm in charge, so I need to keep on top of them as much as possible. I hope that if my being harsh would be a reason for you to hesitate on giving me gifts this year, this would be taken into consideration.

I've heard that you only give presents to the very best children, and the richer ones get presents from their parents if they deserve them or not. I have no delusions, and do not expect that I've been good enough to deserve what I'm asking for, but I would like a family. Anyone, any family, not just the ties I have with my boys or anyone I know now, but someone who's always going be there because they have to, but also because they choose to.

Christmas is just 12 days away but I know that you can do anything, so I'm asking you as hopefully as I can. Please, I want a family this Christmas, more than anything.

Being as good as possible,

Spot Conlon.

The newsie sealed the envelope and pasted his last precious stamp on the top right corner. Care of…care of what? North Pole? Well, he had to think of something.

Santa Klaus
Head office
North Pole

That didn't seem like it would go anywhere, not without numbers or anything. Well, the man would probably get it if he managed to go around the world in one night. Spot sighed. Now the hard part was getting to the mail box without anyone seeing him. He bounded down the stairs, checking around the corner to make sure no one was coming, and slipped through the doorway, coming within two feet of the mail box before he was viciously apprehended…by Patrick.

Spot groaned inwardly. He'd never get away now. This kid was not only way too curious for his own good, he was also constantly sugar high, and around Christmas, it only got worse.

"Heya, Spot!" Patrick was jumping from foot to foot, licking a candy cane like it was the last one on earth. "So? What's the letter for?"

"Um, I'm writin' ta…me goil…yeah, I's writin' ta me goil, so…" he summoned up his best glare, reserved especially for Patrick, who ran whenever he saw anything that looked like he was supposed to keep it a secret. "Scram." He uttered those words with a large heaping of fake suspiciousness, but Patrick ate it up. On his way out the door (at a hundred miles per hour) he winked at Spot.

When he was finally out the door and the letter safely deposited Spot heaved a huge sigh, and decided to go chew on his pillow until he was allowed to wallop someone on the 26th.

The mailman paused, almost impatient, outside of the lodging house, before unlocking the box. Letter to Grandma in Kentucky, complaint to Pulitzer, love letter, love letter, love let—no wait. The mailman smiled and pulled his hat down a little, putting that one in a smaller bag hanging on his right side.

He knew exactly where this one was going, as all good mailmen know, and as he grabbed a pencil from behind his pointed ear he also knew who it was going to. He pulled the envelope out of the bag again and erased the address that Spot had written. The mailman carefully jotted down…

Santa Klaus: O.M.
Head office, Toy workshop
Building 295, level four
Region 1, North Pole

As the mailman approached the proper deposit slot outside of Woolworth's. He just hoped Angie would be paying attention to the mail that crossed her desk today.

The next chapter will be longer, I promise (crosses self) no, wait, I'm not Catholic! (does 'scouts honor') there, much better. Read and Review!!! This means you too, Freddy...

Racetrack: (throws hat on the ground, being as intimidating as possible) Yeah, read and review, oah I's gonna…

Rockeman: Cool it, Race. I happen to know he's twice your size…

Racetrack: (looking stung) you don'twant me ta defend ya any moah? youmean…(gulps) you loves him moah den you loves me?

Rockeman: Weeeeellll…I didn't want to say it so bluntly…but yeah…

Racetrack has flung himself in a corner and is weeping bitterly on Dutchy's shoulder. Do have fun, and I suggest that the lot of you make gingerbread newsies…you know, gingerbread men with little things of frosting for the hats, and licorice for suspenders. Kudos.