A/N: Alrighty guys, here's a new story. We wrote this to be posted on the anniversary of DUDE! because we're O.C.D. like that. Also, like any good story, we must write a disclaimer, so...We don't own Newsies, in all reality, it owns us.
This is based off of a comic that Yummers wrote in Summer school. (!!) Without further adieu, We give you, Forbidden Fruit!
Friday, May 3,
1:11 PM,
Pulitzer's Mansion,
Crouching under Pulitzer's Bathroom Sink
"I don't think this is a good idea, Mr. Pulitzer," Said Seitz as they crouched underneath Pulitzer's leaky pipes.
Pulitzer chose to respond in a very movie-like fashion by saying: "Nonsense, Nonsense, it'll be good for them, make them work harder, sell more papers..." Then, he proceeded to mutter incoherently to himself.
"Mr. Pulitzer," Seitz said seriously. "You've really got to stop looking up movie scripts on the Internet from the early nineties. I think they're ruining your brain, sir. And turning them into platypi won't improve the circulation."
"Nonsense, Nonsense," Pulitzer repeated, "They'll look at it as a challenge."
"Seitz," Pulitzer commanded, after the awkward silence was over, "Getch me my Magic Wand."
Without hesitation, Seitz stood up, banging his head on the sink. Rubbing his head, and seriously regretting his occupational choices, he followed orders.
After a few minutes of searching, Seitz returned with a small wooden spoon with a star cut out of a newspaper taped to the top.
Pulitzer smiled evilly, "Thank you Seitz." He pulled a small, ripped piece of paper out of his pocket and chanted the words written:
Two, Four, Six, Eight,
Who do we appreciate?
Go Platypi!
Go Platypi!
Gooooooooooo Platypi!!
In a bright flash that would leave any Harry Potter fanatic breathless, a wave of magical energy flew into the lodging house.
Saturday, May 4,
5:55 AM,
Lodging House,
Jack's Bed
Jack's eyes fluttered open. Light filtered in through the lodging house windows. He could hear the lovely melodies of the birds outside, and the mice break-dancing on the lodging house floor.
It was then Jack noticed two very important things:
1. Mice don't normally break-dance
2. He had somehow become a small, red, round, shiny, ball-type thing
In short, Jack was an apple.
In disbelief, Jack tried to pinch himself, however, he realized that fruits don't have arms. He looked frantically around the lodging house, revealing shiny red apples in each Newsies' bed.
Before another thought could pass through his applesauce-filled brain, a high-pitched girly scream came from his right.
Jack whipped around and saw Apple! Race. He could tell it was Race only due to the fact that the scream was followed by a long stream of Italian swears being emitted from the apple in question.
Apple! Race's loud outburst woke up the entire lodging house, which was soon filled with the sounds of angry apples.
Three minutes later...
After everyone had calmed down, and somehow managed to magically get down from their bunks, they had a Super Special Newsies Pow Wow.
The SSNPW was called together for the sole purpose of discovering how they had all turned into apples, with the obvious exception of Blink, who had mysteriously turned into a tomato.
Not just any tomato, oh no, he had hands.
And a cape.
Jack and the others were jealous.
Very jealous.
They were gathered around in a sort of hexagon/loop-de-loop, with Jack in the center of the strange shape. Revolving around outside the hexaloop was Crutchy, a sadly deformed apple, unable to prop himself up on all four little bumpy apple end thingies.
"Okay, guys," said Jack, sitting his fruity buttocks upon the dusty floor and pulling himself up as best he could. "We gotta figure out who did this."
The other Newsies nodded in unison.
"I mean," Jack continued, encouraged, "It's the first step in findin' out how to change ourselves back. I mean, we don't want to stay apples, forever, right?"
Blink waved his hands vigorously, "Or tomatoes!" Many of the other Newsies threw him jealous glares.
"Right..." said Jack. "Or tomatoes. Do we'se got any suggestions?"
The Newsie! apples looked among themselves in thought.
"Well," Said Apple!Racetrack, "We could, um, go to, um, the... races?"
"What about the distribution office?" Snitch suggested.
"No!" Boots exclaimed, "Let's go to Tibby's!"
Jack attempted to shake his head. Attempting, of course, because apples do not posses that particular body part. "Let's think outside the box, people, we always do that in fanfiction."
"We should go to Pulitzer's Mansion and find out why he tried to turn us into Platypi and failed miserably, turning us into fruit!" Blink piped up. He stood (?) there, then, with an expression of triumph and pride on his tomato-fied face.
The crowd went silent.
"Yeah!" said Mush!Apple excitedly, amid the awkward crickets chirping.
"...No!" Jack countered meanly, using the exact tone of voice. "Let's not!"
Blink pouted. "Well, then, Mister Applesauce, where should we go?"
Jack glared. "Let's just go to Dave's. Maybe he'll know what to do."
...
Saturday, May 4,
6:66 (?) AM,
Jacobs' Residence,
Window by David's Bed
David Jacobs was sleeping peacefully on his mattress, dreaming of books and newspapers and perfect attendance and ink and Angelina Jolie's unborn twins. He stirred uneasily in his sleep, looking horrified.
"No, Angelina!" He cried out, so loud that the fruits outside could hear him perfectly. "You can't name your babies Al Roker and Brian Denton! It's just not natural!"
"?" said the newsies, using the fabulous punctuation mark to express themselves clearly.
Dave's expression shifted in his sleep. He turned sideways, placing his hand on his hip, and then answered himself in a very girly voice:
"Oh, David, you're so right! I'll run away with you and leave Brad in the dust! We can fly away to an African third world country together!"
"This is gettin' weird," said Jack to the others. He smushed his apple face against the window and made a weird face, trying to get Dave to wake up.
"Daaaa-aaa-aaaaaa-ve," Jack said in a 'creepy' voice, using way too many vowels for this particular situation.
"AHHHH!!" Dave screamed, still in a deep slumber, "The Africans keep throwing talking apples at me!!"
Before any of the Newsies could figure out why Dave was narrating his dreams, Dave snapped awake.
Looking around, Dave saw the fruit!Newsies then proclaimed, " HOMYGOD!! IT WASN'T A DREAM! ANGELINA, HELP!"
Realizing Angelina wasn't coming to his aid, Dave did what any rational person would do when invaded by talking fruit: He screamed like a little German schoolgirl and started cussing in French.
"Dave, Dave, Dave! It's us!" Mush yelled, hitting a different pitch on each 'Dave'.
Dave, noticing the undeniable puberty enhanced voice of Mush, stared in shock at his fruity friends. He blinked once, twice, and then three times, and then said in a very small voice:
"...the newsies?"
"Nah, the Delancy bruddas," said Race in his best sarcastic voice.
Dave nodded. Then he pulled out his pepper spray from under the bed and stomped towards the (closed) window. The other newsies drew away in fear from the other side, pressing themselves closely together, looking at Dave with big, wide, pretty, apple-fied eyes.
"Do ya think he knows the window's closed?" Blink whispered.
"Begone! foul fruits, leave me thus!" cried Dave, pressing the spray button on the small canister. The spray hit the window with impressive force, like a clone spaceship from Star Wars, and then bounced off the (closed) glass and ricocheted back to the sprayer.
Which, coincidently, happened to be Dave's pupils.
"My eyes!" he screamed. "They burn!"
Race snorted.
"Wow, Race," Jack whispered, completely disregarding the yelling newsie on the other side. "That was a really good impersonation of a pig!"
"I know, right?" Race mumbled back. His voice was muffled from his cigar.
"My eyes!" Dave cried again. "Help me! Help me! Help me! Make it stop!"
Mush, being the super-cute and adorable, helpful newsie that he was, decided to give advice. "Davey! Click your heels three times!"
David, under the influence of the pepper-spray, that he now believed was laced with methamphetamine, complied. He clamped his eyes shut and tapped his heels three times.
Upon opening them, David realized a few things:
1. He was no longer in New York
2. He was in the magical land of OZ
3. He had acquired a small scruffy dog
4. He was wearing sparkly red high-heels
Saturday, May 4,
7:77 (?) A.M.,
Distribution Office,
Waiting in line
"...and I still can't believe Dave just blew up into confetti like that!" Race said, the same cigar as earlier still in his mouth. Race refused to risk removing the cigar; for fear that he would never get it back due to his lack of appendages.
"Enough about that, how are we gonna get our papes?" Jack said, as he was the only one really concerned about the matter at hand.
There was only newsie left with the ability to see over the counter and buy papes, and it was Skittery.
Yes, Skittery.
Skittery stood half asleep, hung-over, ravenous, and patiently waiting in the back of the line, completely ignorant to the fact that all the other newsies were apples.
After his stomach growled especially loudly, Skittery became aware that he was surrounded by fruit. Without a second thought he scooped up the closest apple and tossed the whole thing in his mouth.
"OHMYGOD!" Mush screamed, "He just ate Snipeshooter!"
After a moment, Skittery spat out the core of... Snipeshooter... apple.
"Dude!" Blink proclaimed, "Did you see that! He totally ate a whole apple in one bite! That was awesome!"
"But he ate Snipeshooter!" Mush said in a disbelieving tone.
"But it was awesome!" said Blink, as though it was obvious.
"True..." Mush succumbed to the cuteness of Tomato!Blink. Which is, actually, quite adorable, because can't you totally picture Trey Parker being an tomato with a leather eyepatch over one half of it and extremely large opening for its mouth and it being all--
"HOMYGOD!" Skittery screamed, noticing finally that there were apples (and one tomato) standing in front of him. He raised a trembling hand and picked up a very scared Dutchy! Apple.
"Don't eat me! Don't eat me! Eat Specs!" The apple squealed.
"Dutchy?" asked Skittery confusedly.
Dutchy then bit him on the nose. Skittery yelled in pain and dropped him, making Dutchy!Apple hit the ground and giving him a rather magnificent looking bruise.
"Why are you guys apples?" Skittery inquired.
"Pulitzer tried to turn us into platy..." Blink started.
"No!" Jack yelled testily, "Will you shut up about that cockamamie story?!"
Blink turned his head (?) to hide the fact his eyes were considerably wetter.
"Skittery, we need to change back! You'se gotta help us!" The apples all said in perfect unison, with included harmony featured. This made Skittery rather scared.
"How can I help you?" He asked uncertainly.
"Erm..." Jack said. He hadn't really thought it all through yet, "You could ...uh... take us to ...erm... Brooklyn?"
There was a smattering of agreement amongst the apples. Skittery nodded.
Saturday, May 4,
11:11 A.M.,
Brooklyn Docks,
The area infested with Watermelons
After a long, uncomfortable journey in a used potato sack...
"Well, heah we are," Skittery said lamely, dumping all the apple newsies out onto the dock. "Don't see any a' da Brooklyn Boys, though..."
"Yeah," Race stated, "All I see 's a buncha watamelons."
Before anyone could question why the newsies suddenly developed heavy accents, an angry voice yelled at them, "So, it got you too?" A small voice said from behind one of the watermelons.
The apples (and Blink) crept around the melon to find a blue ball covered in red dots. The group was silent.
"Anyone wanna tell me what the hell happened?" Said the strange object.
"Spot?" Jack said in a disbelieving voice, "What happened to you?"
"I'se a blueberry!" Spot screeched.
"What kinda jacked up blueberry are you?" Asked Skittery.
"I'se a blueberry," Spot seethed, "And I'se allergic to blueberries!"
Many of the apples had to turn away to hide their snickers.
"An' what's more," Spot continued, "Me boys are watermelons!"
"I'm sorry..." Jack said in a not-so-genuine tone.
"It jus' make me so mad, I could just... Why I could just... just..." and then, Blueberry Spot exploded, covering everyone else in blueberry juice.
"Holy moley," Mush breathed.
"Spajoly," Blink added, to Mush's approval.
"What a waste..." Jack sighed, "Well, Skitts, let's head back..."
Saturday, May 4,
3:33 P.M.,
Pulitzer's Mansion
Hiding in Pulitzer's Laundry Basket
Our favorite fruitified newsies all sat in Skittery's lap, a towel thrown hastily over Skittery's head. By some miracle, one of Pulitzer's maids hadn't noticed, and was now carrying them down to the Laundry Room. The newsies were uncomfortable, having been jostled and shook so badly they were all quite dizzy.
The maid thankfully set them down on solid ground, her fading footsteps confirming she had left the vicinity. They breathed a sigh of relief.
"I can't believe we followed your dumb plan," Jack said quietly to Blink, who beamed with pride. The newsies had voted to follow Blink's idea because all of Jack's had been utter rubbish. "Why would you have suspected Pulitzer of doing such a--"
"Shhh!" shushed Skittery sensibly. He put a finger to his lips and pointed to the other side of the room, where a tall figure stood stock still in the shadow with a cardboard triangle taped to the top of his head
It was Pulitzer.
He stood with a blank expression on his bearded face, an iron in his hand. He was rubbing the iron up and down his wrinkled clothes, using sound effects as he did so.
"Sssss," Pulitzer hissed, imitating the sound of steam being released from an iron. He rubbed it in a circular motion across his stomach, trying desperately to get the wrinkles out of his clothes.
Might we add the iron was not plugged in and that the cord was dangling inches from the floor?
"He's gone completely nuts!" Mush yelled excitedly in his high-pitched apple voice.
"What the hell is he doin'?" Race asked incredulously.
"I dunno..." Jack said.
"Shut up while I'm talking to you!" Pulitzer yelled, though no one was talking to him.
"What in God's name are you doin'?" Race asked.
"Shhhhh!" Pulitzer shushed, "You can't see me, I'm an ironing board, see?" He made more steam-related sounds and rubbed the iron across his stomach enthusiastically.
"Mr. Pulitzer," Mush asked sweetly, "Did you, per chance, change us into apples?"
Blink muttered something about being a tomato.
Pulitzer glared at the newsies, who were still hidden in the laundry basket, and said, "Of course not! You were supposed to turn into platypuses..."
"Actually Mr. Pulitzer..." Said a voice from a wet pile of laundry. The pile suddenly transformed into the figure of a man, Seitz. "The proper plural form of platypus is Platypi."
"Ah, yes, thank you Mr. Seitz," Pulitzer said grandly. He turned back to the newsies, "I was trying to turn you into platypi."
Blink gave Jack a smug look.
"Turn us back!" Jack demanded, ignoring Blink.
Pulitzer laughed, "Oh, I think not!" He smiled evilly, and dropped the iron, holding his hand in front of Seitz, "Mr. Seitz, my Magic Wand!" Seitz obliged, throwing it gracefully across the room onto Pulitzer's outstretched hand.
Repeating the chant from the bathroom magic, Pulitzer screamed:
Two, Four, Six, Eight,
Who do we appreciate?
Go Platypi!
Go Platypi!
Gooooooooooo Platypi!!
Seitz's screams of warning went unheard, as Pulitzer finished,
"No! Mr. Pulitzer the Wand is pointed backwa--"
There was a loud pop and Pulitzer was no longer there. A second pop revealed a small platypus, lying on the laundry room floor, precisely where Pulitzer had stood.
"Holy sh--" Jack started to say, before the after shock of Pulitzer's Magic sent them flying out of the Mansion, and straight into the square around the statue of Horace Greenly.
It was a horrible scene, with bruised apples lying everywhere and a few spots of applesauce. It made Jack sick.
Then, as if the power of Pulitzer's Magic had summoned him, David appeared with a loud pop, clutching a key to his chest.
Jack approached his pal, to hear him muttering about Scarecrows, midgets, lions, painted roads, metal men, green towns, and witches.
"Dave..." Jack said cautiously.
"I don't want to go to Kansas!" David screamed desperately.
"He's gone completely nuts!"Mush whispered to Blink. Blink had a strong feeling of deja vu.
"David..." Jack repeated.
"The key!" David proclaimed. Then, he made a mad dash to the back of the statue.
Now here, kiddies, is where things get crazy...
The statue, you see, is one of those things that you never question. Never. Haven't you noticed, dear readers, that they don't show the back of the statue in the movie very closely? Haven't you?
You have, right?
Right?
…Okay, Nevermind. Maybe you haven't.
The most important thing, in this case, is to know that no one went behind the statue.
It was dangerous.
The newsies screamed at Dave to stop, and followed him to try to get him to turn back, but it was to no avail. He completely ignored them.
Of course, when the Newsie!Apples rounded the corner of H.G., they gasped in unison.
There, on the back end of the statue, was a door. The door was covered in small mirrors, much like a disco ball, with randomly placed purple stars scattered here and there. There was no knob, only a gigantic keyhole.
David shoved the key into the hole and turned it, and the door opened on its own, to reveal a startling white light.
(wow, there's a lot of flashing lights in this story. Hmmm….)
The light flashed, and it seemed as if the whole world was black. When everything was light again, the newsies were all back to normal.
"Wow..." Jack said.
The newsies stood in silence, having no words to describe their experience.
As always, it was Blink to break the tension, "Skittery, you have got to show me how you can eat an apple like that!"
Saturday, May 11,
6:66 (?) A.M.,
Distribution Office
Chatting Normally
"... Then we left it on his doorstep, and ran." Race said, laughing hard. The other newsies nearby were also laughing.
Skittery was clutching his stomach, but he managed to say, "I wish I could've seen his face when he found that by his door."
After a few more laughs, David, who was apparently lost in his own little world, said, out of the blue, "Hey guys, where's Snipeshooter? I haven't seen him all week."
All eyes shifted to Skittery, who shuffled his feet nervously. After a moment, Skittery glared at David and said mysteriously, "We don't talk about that, David."
It was never mentioned again.
A/N (v. 2.0): I would like to apologize to all those who read Titles are for Stupid People. We're been so busy with camps and vacations and what not, we hope to get more stories out soon, but we're not making any promises. This makes Yummers sad. :sad face: Also, go read Yummers' story- "Vices and Virtues". It's great fun!
(Well, not really. It's actually kind of a sad story. But hey)
Adieu!