You have no idea how much a wanted to do a song fic, so I settled for a subtle homage to a song, fic. Written for the Newsies Pape Selling Competition.
Jack Kelly was irritated. No, he was way beyond irritated. He was livid. He and a few other boys had just weaseled their way out of a night in the slammer for the third time in two weeks, and they hadn't even done anything wrong.
It was all the fault of some new bull down at the police station, saying that they had to make New York a better city by "cracking down on its youth" and stopping all disorderly conduct. It was the charge of "disorderly conduct" that the newsies keep weaseling themselves out of. But boy was that bull giving them a hard time about it.
Long story short, Jack Kelley wanted to punch Officer Krupke in the face.
He, Race, and Mush, the two had been with him during the run in with the officer, all slugged their way up to the bunkroom in the lodging house where all the other boys already were. When Jack got there he collapsed on the closest bed.
"What's wrong Jack?" He looked up to see Crutchy starring down at him, as realized that it was Crutchy's bed he had decided to use.
"That damn Officer Krupke, that's what it is." Race shouted over, while he lit up cigar.
"I can't take much more of this, we ain't even doing anything wrong." Mush complained.
"We are existing and to them that's wrong." Jack said sitting up.
"He even has one foot in Brooklyn I heard, Spot came by earlier wanting to talk to you about." Blink said sitting down by Race.
"I'll talk to Spot tomorrow, for now I just want to pretend that Officer Krupke doesn't exist." Jack leaned against the rail of the bed.
"Either that or he gets a little of what's coming to him." Race took a drag of his cigar."
The room was quiet for a minute before Blink suddenly jumped up.
"Heya, Skittery, where did we store all that left over paint form the strike?"
Skittery, not moving from his bed or opening his eyes just pointed to the washroom. "They's under the third sink in the washroom."
"Thank You." Blinks voiced could be heard rummaging around with the paint cans, and when he came back he his suspender pulled all the way up, a paper rolled in his hands like a club, and a ridiculous black mustache painted on his face. He walked back into the room haughtily, taking time with each step, and it such a way that every newsie knew he was impersonating the good officer.
At this point Jack had gotten up and was climbing up into his own bed when Blinked pulled him down. "Hey you," he said in the gravely voice of Officer Krupke, "give me one good reason why I shouldn't take you down to the station house?"
Looking at his friends disguise Jack quickly burst on laughing, but then kept up the game. He took his hat off and held it in mock humility to his chest.
"Sargent Krupke, you just gotta understand. Listen it aint our fault we this was. It was our upbringing, we just get out of hand sometimes." Every word Jack said was meet by laughs or encouragement from the others. "Our mothers all were tonies, and our fathers all were drunks. So, officer Krupke naturally we're punks." He finished with a flourish as Race and Mush Joined him.
"So you see, officer we are extremely upset. We just never had the love that all the other kids got." Race put on the most pitiful face he could muster.
"We aren't delinquents. We are just misunderstood, officer." Mush added.
"So you see," Jack added back in, "deep down inside us there is good."
At that the entire room erupted, with each boy over dramatically confessing his goodness.
"Inside, even the worst of us is good." Jack clasped his hands together. Blink, Officer Krupke, looked unimpressed.
"That's such a touching good story." He pretend to cry.
"I can tell it to the world." Jack shouted into the room before Blink hit him on the head with the paper club.
"Just tell it to the judge!" And frenzy went through the room as all the boys moved to new places. Race pelted over one of the windows between the bunkroom and the washroom and leaned over it pretending to be a judge using a bar of soap as a gavel. Skittery grabbed a chair and sat it next to the window which Blink pushed Jack into. Snipeshooter reached for a book off of Specs' bed for Jack to swear on.
"Well, son, do you have anything to say for yourself." Race drawled in his best impression of Judge "Move a Long".
"Your honor, my father treated me rough. With all drinking, they just never gave me anything. They didn't want to have me, but some how I was had. So, your honor, that's why I am so bad." Jack confided over dramatically then pretend to faint of the chair.
"Well Officer Krupke," Race continued, not even fazed by Jack's apparent "faint", "You're really a square. The boys doesn't need a court, he needs a doctor's care. Its just he brain there, that ought to be fixed, he psychologically disturbed, now move along." And he banged his bar of soap down on the window.
"Ya hear that fellows, I'm disturbed."
"Well we knew that."
"If I am disturbed then so are you."
Race piped up again. "It is in my opinion that this child is depraved on the count he aint had a normal home."
"So I'm depraved on the count I am deprived?" Jack asked.
"Take him to a head shrinker, Davey." Race said as he hit jack on the head with the paper club.
"What me? No guys I really don't…" but it was too late as two of the boys had already grabbed him and moved him to sit on the edge of one of the bunks. Jack got up and practically jumped onto the bunk with his arms behind his head.
"Now, uh, tell me what's wrong." David fumbled.
"My father's an ambastard, my mom is MIA, my grandpa's always plastered, my grandma mind wouldn't stay, I never had a sister, so she made me where a dress. Doctor, could that be why I'm a mess." Jack was having a hard time not laughing.
"Officer Krupke, you are really slob. This boy doesn't need a doctor just a good honest job. Society has done him no good, so, socially he's sick." At the word sick Jack pretended to vomit offer the side of the bed.
"Not that kinda sick idiot." Skittery shouted. David continued.
"I believe that this boy does not need to have his head shrunk at all, except for maybe his ego."
"Hey!"
"Juvenile delinquency is merely a social disease, so take him to a social worker!"
Next, Jack hopped of the bed and grabbed a rag as he pretended to scrub the floor on his hands and knees, as the other boys picked up Les and sat him on Jack's back.
"Dear, Mr. Social Worker, they say go earn some doe. Maybe I could be a soda jerker, but that means I'd be a shmoe. I'm not antisocial, I am only anti-work. Wow I think I know why I am jerk."
Les than hopped down and pretended to stomp on Blinks foot.
"Officer Krupke, you have done it again, this point don't need a job he needs a year in the pen. He's not misunderstood. Deep down inside he's no good." Jack jumped up.
"I am no good!"
Race grabbed the paper club from Blink and smacked Jack on the head with it.
"The trouble is he's lazy." And then began passing it around the room.
"The trouble is he drinks." Smack.
"The trouble is he's crazy." Smack.
"The trouble is he stinks." Smack.
"The trouble is he's growing." Smack.
"The trouble is he's grown." Smack, and with each smack jack gave a more exaggerated sigh.
"So Krupke, I've got trouble of mine own." Jack jumped into Blink's arms, who quickly dropped him. Jack, Race, and Mush all fell on their knees and the other boys followed.
"Officer we are down on are knees." Race pleaded.
"And no one likes a fella with a social disease." Mush added. Then Jack stood up and took the paper from Mush.
"So Officer Krupke, Krupke you." And Jack hit Blink with the paper to which he fell down over dramatically. After a few seconds he lifted his head up.
"Feel better Jack?" he asked.
"Yeah, but for a second there I though ya'll were just looking for an excuse to hit me on the head."
I am a big Musical theater buff, and right around the time I really got into Newsies I was in West Side Story and one of the first ideas I had was the Newsies singing Officer Krupke, and now I finally had an excuse to do this fic, so I am happy. Hope you enjoy.