Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, sadly, they belong to Disney. Mac, however, is my own creation. Please read and review!
I have an extra leg. Admittedly, it's not the flesh and blood kind, but I'd be lost without it. It keeps me upright when I stand, it helps me to walk. In fact, it is probably my most treasured possession.
My extra leg.
When I was a small boy, a bad run-in with polio left me with a severely damaged right leg. Thankfully, I didn't lose it, but I was left reliant on others to help me move about. I was often carried, which I hated because it made me feel so helpless, so I started refusing help. I got about by dragging myself along, which was painful and exhausting, and usually left me in tears.
Then I met a kind old man called Mr Kloppman, who took pity on this poor orphan boy and later gave him the greatest gift he has ever received.
My extra leg.
When I have it in my hands or tucked under my arm, supporting me, I feel like I can do anything. This is why I am so optimistic and cheerful despite my disability. My friends used to be (and, to an extent, still are) amazed that a cripple could still have such a bright outlook on life, but if you think about it, things could have been worse.
But when I do not have it with me, like when those Delancey brothers steal it from me, my world is suddenly a very low, dark place and I lose sight of the good points in my life. I am left struggling on the ground until someone is kind enough to help me up. When it is restored to me, the relief is immense and I feel like I am floating for the rest of the day. But what could possibly have such a profound effect on me, you ask?
My extra leg.
Because of my ruined right leg, I am unable to defend myself by fighting. Not that I'm particularly keen on fighting anyway, but it's always a good idea to at least be able to frighten a potential assailant away. Here, my extra leg is a real asset, because if it really comes to it, I can use it as a weapon, or at the very least a deterrent. (Although unfortunately it doesn't work on those Delanceys. I pity those two; their only living relative is their Uncle, Mr Wiesel, and I bet you he hasn't taught them the value of kindness.) But it isn't a weapon; not really. It's meant to help, not hurt.
My extra leg.
OK, so it's made of wood, and is little more than a customised crutch – which is why my friends call me Crutchy – but to me, it is so much more than a crutch. Without it, I'd still be struggling to even stand unaided, let alone walk. As long as I have my crutch, I have hope, and that's why it is so precious to me.
And of all the things in the world I could desire, I have the one thing that I need the most, and I am thankful. Because I have my extra leg.