"The Second Generation"
By: T.H.
Anthony Michael "Grabs" Higgins, ran down the road, dodging carts and wagons as he did so. The bulls were right on his heels and they weren't letting up on their chase for him.
Aw geez! Cain't dey give a guy a break? Where can I go? Where can I go? Cain't go home! Where, where, where?
Grabs scanned the buildings that loomed before him. Finally he turned a corner and slammed through a door, hidden in the shadows of the building. He slammed the door and locked it, panting hard as he listened for the bulls outside the door. "Where'd he go? I thought I saw him go this way!" A male voice protested. "Joseph it isn't any use. These kids come and go and disappear into the woodwork. Its their life. You might as well give it up." The second voice said patiently. He had done this dozens of times, and the new officer, Joseph, was new to the job. "Lets go. I'll buy you a coffee." "Well, fine. But I aim to catch that little kid one of these days!" The first policeman said loudly. "Yeah sure. And every other little scallawag in New York right? Lets go."
Grabs sat in the doorway listening till the footsteps died away. He sighed with relief and collapsed on the floor going through his pockets. "Well dey made such a big deal outta nothin'. It ain't like there ain't otha kids who gamble on da streets. Dat stupid kid was jest a sore loser! Ha! He didn't count on Grabs Higgins dats fer sure! Whatta sucka!" Grabs was so wrapped up in counting his winnings, that the white figure that decended the back staircase went unnoticed by him. But when the figure approached and a white hand fell on his shoulder, he gave a small yelp of surprise. "Good Lawd Medda! Ya nearly gave me a heart attack!" Medda's bright red hair came out of the shadows like a lamp, her face lit up with a smile.
"Grabs Higgins. I should have known. What did you do now little man that you have to hide out in my theater?" Medda asked, smiling at the boy. Grabs stood up defiantly and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Well Medda, its a long story, an' I'll tell it to ya, fer a dime." Medda laughed. "I'll pass thank you. Why don't you just spare me paying because I'm an old friend?" Grabs rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Well, dat one kid Frankie Klaps, ya know the one who's too big fer his britches? Well he decided ta pick a bone wit' me. Sayin' dat he was da best kid cawd player in alla New Yawk. Well I wasn't about ta let dat go, so I challenged him. He thought he could beat Grabs Higgins! Well I showed him! I showed him good!" Grabs said triumphantly.
"But what about the police? Obviously you did something bad, besides gambling of course." Medda pointed out. "Aw Medda, don't you get on me case about me gambling too!" Grabs whined. "Its a good profit maka! Anyway. Ol' Frankie gets kinda mad see. So we got unda a fight, and well we ended up knockin' ova a vegetable cart. An' well, I didn't tink dat I had ta lowa meself ta pick it up. Hey, he started the fight not me! So dats why da bulls was chasin' me." Grabs finished.
Medda straightened with a sigh. "Grabs, you know you should be more careful. What would happen if you did something completely out of line and the police arrested your father and mother for it? What do you have to say about that?" Medda gazed at the eight year old boy's face, his brown eyes now very wide. "Would dey, do dat Medda?" Grabs asked, his voice quavering a bit. Medda looked down at him, her eyes softening, but her appearence remaining like stone. "Yes they most certainly would. And they wouldn't hesitate a moment either." Grabs' shoulders slumped against the wall. "Well, I guess I had betta be more careful about meself. Huh?" Medda smiled. "Of course darling. Now run along. I have a show in a few minutes and you can't hang around today. Go on." Medda said as she gently pushed Grabs to the door. "Bye Medda. I'll be betta teday!" Grabs called out as he shuffled back to the distribution office.
By: T.H.
Anthony Michael "Grabs" Higgins, ran down the road, dodging carts and wagons as he did so. The bulls were right on his heels and they weren't letting up on their chase for him.
Aw geez! Cain't dey give a guy a break? Where can I go? Where can I go? Cain't go home! Where, where, where?
Grabs scanned the buildings that loomed before him. Finally he turned a corner and slammed through a door, hidden in the shadows of the building. He slammed the door and locked it, panting hard as he listened for the bulls outside the door. "Where'd he go? I thought I saw him go this way!" A male voice protested. "Joseph it isn't any use. These kids come and go and disappear into the woodwork. Its their life. You might as well give it up." The second voice said patiently. He had done this dozens of times, and the new officer, Joseph, was new to the job. "Lets go. I'll buy you a coffee." "Well, fine. But I aim to catch that little kid one of these days!" The first policeman said loudly. "Yeah sure. And every other little scallawag in New York right? Lets go."
Grabs sat in the doorway listening till the footsteps died away. He sighed with relief and collapsed on the floor going through his pockets. "Well dey made such a big deal outta nothin'. It ain't like there ain't otha kids who gamble on da streets. Dat stupid kid was jest a sore loser! Ha! He didn't count on Grabs Higgins dats fer sure! Whatta sucka!" Grabs was so wrapped up in counting his winnings, that the white figure that decended the back staircase went unnoticed by him. But when the figure approached and a white hand fell on his shoulder, he gave a small yelp of surprise. "Good Lawd Medda! Ya nearly gave me a heart attack!" Medda's bright red hair came out of the shadows like a lamp, her face lit up with a smile.
"Grabs Higgins. I should have known. What did you do now little man that you have to hide out in my theater?" Medda asked, smiling at the boy. Grabs stood up defiantly and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Well Medda, its a long story, an' I'll tell it to ya, fer a dime." Medda laughed. "I'll pass thank you. Why don't you just spare me paying because I'm an old friend?" Grabs rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Well, dat one kid Frankie Klaps, ya know the one who's too big fer his britches? Well he decided ta pick a bone wit' me. Sayin' dat he was da best kid cawd player in alla New Yawk. Well I wasn't about ta let dat go, so I challenged him. He thought he could beat Grabs Higgins! Well I showed him! I showed him good!" Grabs said triumphantly.
"But what about the police? Obviously you did something bad, besides gambling of course." Medda pointed out. "Aw Medda, don't you get on me case about me gambling too!" Grabs whined. "Its a good profit maka! Anyway. Ol' Frankie gets kinda mad see. So we got unda a fight, and well we ended up knockin' ova a vegetable cart. An' well, I didn't tink dat I had ta lowa meself ta pick it up. Hey, he started the fight not me! So dats why da bulls was chasin' me." Grabs finished.
Medda straightened with a sigh. "Grabs, you know you should be more careful. What would happen if you did something completely out of line and the police arrested your father and mother for it? What do you have to say about that?" Medda gazed at the eight year old boy's face, his brown eyes now very wide. "Would dey, do dat Medda?" Grabs asked, his voice quavering a bit. Medda looked down at him, her eyes softening, but her appearence remaining like stone. "Yes they most certainly would. And they wouldn't hesitate a moment either." Grabs' shoulders slumped against the wall. "Well, I guess I had betta be more careful about meself. Huh?" Medda smiled. "Of course darling. Now run along. I have a show in a few minutes and you can't hang around today. Go on." Medda said as she gently pushed Grabs to the door. "Bye Medda. I'll be betta teday!" Grabs called out as he shuffled back to the distribution office.