The Marx Brothers.. Legends among comedy and true comedians. I resently reread Harpo's book Harpo Speaks! and I got myself into a whole Marx Brothers obsession. That and too much homework, is the reason I haven't been updating on my Harry Potter story for a while, but don't you worry, few fans! I'm working on the next chapter on that one too.

Well here is a Marx Brother fanfic, perfectly readable without any knowledge of the Marx Brothers (even though in my opinion everyone should know and love the Marx Brothers) and I hope even slightly humorish (: Next to that it might be good to know that the Marx Brothers are with the five of them; Harpo (from who's point of view it's written - with his autobiography as standard and example), origionally called Adolph (even though he changed his name to Arthur during the Great War, because it sounded too German), Chico, first Leonard, Groucho, or Julius, Gummo, Milton and last but not least Zeppo, or Herbert. Harpo said in his book that those stagenames were more their names than those given with birth, so they call themselves that. And so do I now.

Oh and important for those who don't know them; The Marx Brothers were them brothers (Harpo Marx, Chico Marx, Groucho Marx, Gummo Marx, Zeppo Marx) and they were very famous in those times (thirties). Gummo and Zeppo never liked showbizz so Gummo never even joined them on Broadway, before the movies and Zeppo quit with the movies as soon as his Paramount contract ran out, but the remaining three stayed shining years after. They were all wellknown for being funny and stuff blabla, just read okay?

Next to that; Enjoy!

*EDIT* I don't think this was clear enough: Molly Padlock, the girl that drops in, so it won't just be a Marx Brothers biography (because that way you'd better read the real ones; they're hilarious.. It makes me wish for a life like that), is thought up by me! SHE ISN'T REAL AND PROBABLY NEVER LIVED!

okay..

Chapter 1

As long as I can remember Molly Padlock was our friend. I know we all just met her when she was about thirteen and myself only just turned twelve, but for some reason she always felt as part of the family.

I was born in the lower east side of New York, a neighbourhood with a lot of different nationalities. We ourselves were German Jews, with our own little street that was our territory, but you also had nationalities that had territories a lot larger than our own, which was only our own because we lived there.

Molly lived in the Irish part of the neighbourhood, along with the Italian the biggest around. Chico knew how to get through, like he always did. He was a master of imitation and just pretended to be an Italian by imitating the accent, when he wanted to pass to another part of town or use one of their poolrooms. I didn't have such luck. I always had half decent tennis balls with me or rings made out of horsehair, because you could sell those for a nickel and were therefor worth money. When you were caught by an enemy gang you could exchange those for your freedom, without getting beaten up too much.

It was also with Chico when I first met Molly. We were on our way to a friend of Chico's because Chico wanted to collect some dough the bloke still owned him from a game of pinochle earlier the month. Suddenly we were surrounded. Big kids, with pale skins and a lot of freckles had come out of apartment buildings, some holding baseball bats but all of them looking tough. I moved a little closer to Chico, standing straight and Chico put up a sure face, which wasn't so hard, because that was what he always looked like.

'Hey-a, you!' Apparently the leader of the group of about half a dozen said. He was even bigger and meaner-looking than the others and had short, messy red hair. 'So, you two think you can just invade without us noticing, heah?' He asked Chico, not even bothering to look at me, as I was hovering behind him.

Chico slipped into his role perfectly. 'Invade you say?' he said in a flawless Irish accent. The leader of the Irish gang that surrounded us frowned. 'You are Irish?' He asked Chico. Chico frowned back at him. 'What made you think we weren't?'

The redheaded boy ignored it and said to his pals; 'Never mind. We'll have to wait for others.' They all groaned and turned around, disappointed that they couldn't beat a few nickels out of us. The leader sighed, looking after his fellows and then looked at us. 'Are you really Irish?' He asked, biting his bottom lip. Chico smiled pleasantly. 'I wouldn't say no.'

For a few seconds the leader looked at Chico blankly but then he started laughing. Like laughing really loud. It was also that moment that I noticed a lot smaller girl standing behind the boy. She was just a little taller than I was, probably about the same height as Chico and she was staring at him with narrowed eyes. I looked at Chico, about to nudge him, to make him aware of her staring at her, but I saw that he had already noticed her, as he was looking at her with raised eyebrows.

The gang leader seemed to notice our concentration lapse, because he looked around him and saw the girl standing. 'Molle!' – he yelled.

Chico and I both bit our lips, because we both agreed on the idea that it wasn't very elegant to be called a mole. The mole didn't pay any attention to the leader, whose face was getting pretty red, but stayed looking at the two of us, some kind of weird fascination in her eyes.

She was pretty enough I guess, as far as thirteen year old girls can be really pretty, as she had red hair, that was braided into one long braid. She wore saggy clothes, quite clear hand-me-downs and it were all men clothes. Only her skirt, Scottish print and socks, white-ish with lace on top, appeared to be sort of new and real girls clothing.

I noticed Chico throwing a sideways glance at me and I answered his confused face by raising my shoulders.

'Molly!' The gang leader yelled again, this time catching her attention, as her head snapped up towards him. I suddenly saw how much they looked alike. Both red hair and a slim and lean build and their nose bridge covered in freckles.

'What?' She asked, already looking bored, her hands in the pockets of the far too large men's jacket. The boy looked really angry. 'I told you not to follow me anymore. You're too little for stuff like this – you'll get yourself hurt. Just stay home with ma and nobody will touch you.'

On the moment he said that, I knew he couldn't have said something worse. The face of the girl first didn't change at all, then she narrowed her eyes and got her hands, balled into fists, out of her pockets and just stood there, looking up to the leader of the gang, the gang that was fighting over a few cigarettes down the street.

'Patrick, houd je mond dicht, als je niet weet wat je er mee moet.' She said and even though I didn't understand a word of it, I knew it was something pretty bad, because her brother (I just decided it had to be her brother) went to sit on his knees in front of her and grab both her arms tightly, shaking her. They apparently had completely forgot about us.

'I told you! I don't want to hear that wretched language anymore! We live in New York! They speak English here!' I was a bit confused by that, because didn't they also in Ireland? That moment Chico pulled my sleeve and made it clear to me it was better to leave now, before problems could be shoved upon us.

Chico was silent while walking, what was unusual for him, but I had thoughts to worry about for myself, so I didn't question him. 'Leonard?' I asked, because that was his name before he became Chico. 'Mmh?' He answered. I was silent for a few seconds, not wanting to sound stupid, but always sounding stupid towards Chico. 'Do they talk English in Ireland?'

Chico began to chuckle. 'Of course they do, zit-face. They just aren't Irish. That's why that guy was being so paranoid. He wants to be the leader of an Irish gang, but isn't Irish himself; if his fellows find out, he's dead. He lied pretty bad.'

'Oh..' I said. It was silent again, until we reached the house of the friend of Chico. We knocked the door, but there was no answer. Chico backed up a bit, looking up to the building. He put his hands around his mouth and screamed; 'ROY, GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE!'

Up at the top floor a curtain moved and not ten seconds later the bolts were taken off the door and two untrusting eyes peaked through. When he saw it was really Chico he opened it a bit wider, but still not all the way.

'Good to see you, Marx.' He said to Chico. He looked at me. 'Little brother?' He asked me and I nodded. Chico ignored it. 'Forget him,' he said, shoving me aside. 'you owe me money, Roy. You said by the end of the month, so here I am.'

Roy tried to close the door, but Chico put his foot between the door, before it could lock. 'Oh no, Roy!' he said, pushing against the door and forcing Roy to open it all the way. 'I won't leave without my twenty bucks.' Roy gave up and opened the door, leaning against it. 'I'm sorry Leonard, I don't have it. This Italian gang robbed me last week. Robbed me from every cent I had.' He said.

Chico looked at him with narrowed eyes, not sure if to believe him or not. 'An Italian gang..?' He asked, as if to taste the words. Roy nodded infuriated. 'Yes! They even got my shoes.' He said, showing him his bare feet. Chico frowned.

'Well, since you can't pay me with money, I guess you'll just have to pay me otherwise, heah?' Roy stood up straight, a puzzled look on his features. Chico looked about the room. It was a dark and small room, one window, but blinded and a very big closet, made of wood. Chico walked in the house, towards the closet and opened its doors.

Roy protested. 'Hey, you can't just come in! I didn't! Wait, this is all highly inappropriate!' Chico shushed him and took a big hat with feathers out of the closet. 'What do you think, Adolph?' he said, addressing me, because I was named Adolph when I was a kid. 'Is this worth a couple of tens?'

Before I could say anything, Chico had thrown it back in, muttering; 'Nah, don't think so.'

After rummaging through the entire structure, he found a cupper coloured watch. He looked at it, made sure it was still working, inspected it on flaws and then pocketed it satisfied.

He came to stand next to me again, clapping Roy on the shoulder. 'I don't think I'll get a full twenty for it, but I'll just say your debt is paid. You already had enough pain caused by those scary Italian folks.' Roy made a last weak attempt to save the watch.

'It's my dads and I don't think he'll appreciate it if you..' He trailed of when he saw Chico's patronizing look.

'Goodbye Roy; I'll hope you'll get yourself a new pair of shoes soon. Try looking through dumpsters – you find plenty of shoes in there.' Chico said, while walking away, me jogging after him. The door banged closed and Chico began to laugh loudly.

I let him laugh, but, just before we came home I needed to ask him the question. 'Leonard..?' I asked. 'Mmh?' He answered. 'Why did you take the watch when he had such a hard time.. We know what he's going through..' Chico stopped and I stopped too. He put his hand on my head, ruffling my hair, smiling happily.

'Adolph, you're far too good.' Was the only thing he said to me, before he ran up the stairs to be greeted by Gummo screaming to Zeppo and Groucho muttering about "all the bloody noise we all made". It wasn't till years later when he finally told me that he knew that Roy had lied, because it wasn't the Italian gang that had stolen his shoes along with his money, but that it was himself, while playing their game of pinochle. Apparently Roy had fallen asleep during the game, so Chico and the other players had re-shuffled the cards and Chico had stolen his shoes, before they woke him up.

The first meeting with Molly was a very brief one, but one that couldn't leave me alone. Every time when I went to sleep, I thought about the intense way she looked at you, two sparkling grey eyes that punched you in the face. At dinner I noticed myself drifting away from conversation, hearing her speak in that foreign, kind of aggressive sounding, language and I caught myself dreaming about the country she could be from and imagining it to be the island where Robinson Crusoe stranded, in the book we read at school, years ago, before I left.

But still. As much as it fascinated me, it seemed like Chico was obsessed with it. At night, when only the two of us were still awake and I was starting to fall asleep too, he would nudge me in the ribs. 'Adolph?' He asked.

I would murmur some kind of incoherent answer, something that could mean either "yes" or "no", but it didn't seem to matter for him, since he would proceed anyway. 'That language she spoke.. It really seems familiar to me. I could swear I heard it before, but where!' He would curse a lot and then call me crazy when I was still listening.

Chico once slipped up while eating dinner, a rare occasion for Chico. It was a night with a lot of Relatives staying over for dinner. Relatives didn't mean they were related to us in any way; it just meant that they knew Mum and Dad well enough to know Dad was an amazing cook and that no one of us, even when we barely had enough food for ourselves, minded people sitting in.

Dad, named Samuel, but called Frenchie for most of the time, had made a soup. I didn't know how he did it, because the only edible things in the house as far as I knew were a couple of onions, the cabbages Groucho got from Mr Hammond as thanks for bringing his dog back (even though Gummo had stolen it – but Mr Hammond didn't knew that) and one very old bread, that no one dared to touch when Chico said he was hungry and Mum said we could have the bread.

However, there was soup and everybody was asking for seconds, even though there was nothing left. Zeppo, the youngest of us had already disappeared from the tables sight. Gummo was biting his nails, while intently looking at Dad talking to one of the Relatives. Groucho was busy with pretending he understood everything the grownups said, nodding every now and then and laughing when one of them laughed. Chico however, was listening to the conversation of Grandpa to one of the Relatives. And I say to deliberately.

Grandpa lives with us, but only because he couldn't provide for himself anymore in Germany. We were all born here in New York, but Mum and Dad both moved here. They learned English and talked English, except with the German people in the street. Grandpa didn't though. He talked Plattdeutsch with and to everyone, not really caring if someone understood it or not. The only reason I'm able to understand it is because when I stopped school when I was eight, I had a lot of time on my hands, so I started hanging out with Grandpa for long periods of times. I soon learned it was no use trying to learn him English so instead just began learning German.

I don't remember what he was talking about, but I did remember Chico's look of immense concentration while listening to it. Suddenly he sprang up. Normally no one would have noticed, since there was always a lot of noise around the table, with people laughing, yelling and for some maybe, too much movement, but Chico knocked his bowl from the table, spilling the last bits of cabbage that he had still left. He looked down at his feet, where the pieces of cabbage lay and then up again.

'Leonard, for God's sake boy, can't you sit still for one second?' Mum said, standing up herself, hurrying for the kitchen to get something to wipe it up. Leonard sat down again, folding his legs underneath him, so Mum could reach the cabbage better with the wet towel she brought. 'Such a waste.' One of the Relatives said. 'It really tasted great.'

Conversation flared up again and no one paid any attention to Chico again and Chico did nothing to gain it, what was a miracle on itself, but I didn't lost sight of him till bedtime, even when Dad found Zeppo sleeping underneath the table and everyone started to compliment him on his cute little boy so loudly Zeppo woke up and started yelling. We were already in bed when I finally got the chance to ask Chico about what was wrong.

All of us brothers slept in the same bed and it was fighting for your place. Chico had his part of the bed, because he was the oldest and the biggest. I most of the time made sure I had a spot too, but was (and still am) a big softy and really unable to act up when Groucho, Gummo or Zeppo would push me away. 'Leonard?' I asked.

I knew the others already slept, but Leonard was mostly unable to sleep till deep in the night. 'What is it?' He answered, sitting upright, kicking the blankets away. I kept laying down. 'What was that during dinner? You were just listening to Grandpa and out of nowhere you freaked out.' Even though it was dark, I knew Chico raised his eyebrows. 'I did not freak out.' He said defensively.

I kept silent, hoping he would proceed by himself, but he didn't. 'But what was it then?' I asked after a while. Chico let himself fall down again, making me and the others wobble on the bed. I heard Groucho roll over, squashing Gummo in the process, but they were both so vast asleep that they didn't notice.

'You know that I recognized the language that girl was speaking, right?' I didn't tell him that it was impossible to not know, since he speculated about it every night, but just nodded. 'Well, I now know where I recognized it from.' He said, triumph shining through his tone of words.

'You do?' I asked. 'So what language is it?' I could see his teeth shine in the little light that shone through the windows, when he bit his lip. 'I don't know. I just know it sounds like German.' I couldn't help than to be a bit disappointed by that conclusion. 'So you still don't know what language she was speaking?'

He made an annoyed noise. 'It could be German.' I shook my head. 'We would have understood German.' He chuckled. 'Not necessarily. Grandpa speaks a whole other dialect of German than them Germans do in down in Yorkville. It could just as well be German, but another kind of German.' He said. 'Okay, that's true I guess.' I said, hesitantly.

It was silent for a long time and I slowly felt myself losing my sight of reality, so I'm not sure if Chico really whispered; 'I just wish I could see her again.'

We did see her again. Not two weeks after that night, Chico came home covered in bruises, grinning like a madman. Mum was unfazed about it. She washed him up, not asking what happened, because it was hardly the first time Chico got into a fight. She slapped him on the back of the head when he left the living room and his grin widened.

He took me aside that afternoon, when everyone was minding their own business. 'Adolph, I saw her again!' He said. It took me a few seconds to realize he talked about Molly. 'You did?' I asked him. 'The Mole you mean?' He snickered and I felt strangely proud to make my big brother laugh. 'Yes, "The Mole".' He answered, emphasizing his words.

'She's called Molly though. I saw her walk into this apartment building, so I asked one of the gals in the street about her. She was happy to help me fortunately. She's called Molly Padlock, she's thirteen or fourteen and moved here with her family from Europe a few months ago.'

I frowned. 'And that girl could tell you all this?' Chico shrugged. 'She goes to the same school.' I nodded. 'But why did she tell you all this? I mean, you're kind of a stranger, aren't you?' Chico looked the other way. 'Let's just say I already knew her.'

I began to get curious. 'You did? From where?' Chico seemed hesitant to answer, looking at me as if to size me up and I unconsciously sat up straighter, wanting to make a good impression on him. Apparently I passed the test, because he leaned back and said; 'We got together once at the poolroom behind Mr Gookie's cigar shop and she hoped to go over the, uhm, experience again.'

My first reaction was; 'Ew, girls are gross!' Chico smiled. 'Yes, Adolph, they are and I take every advantage of it that I can possibly take.'

He was long gone before I got that one.

That night, when we were ordered to bed by Mum, Chico lightened a candle and told all of us a little ghost story, while sitting in the bed. None of us wanted to know about the ghost story though. 'But Leonard!' Gummo said, yanking at Chico's sleeve, almost making him drop the candle. 'Tell us about your fight. You fought didn't you? Don't lie, I know you fought!' he said and he began to hop up and down excitedly.

'A gorilla could tell he had a fight.' Groucho said, eyeing Chico's bruises and black eye. 'Or maybe see him as a possible mating conquest, as you look like one right now. I bet you are quite an attractive gorilla, Leonard!' A few snickers went through the circle, but it became quiet soon again. We all watched Chico expectantly.

Chico took the liberty of testing our patience and only when Zeppo looked like he was about to burst of curiosity, he said, in a soft and whispery voice; 'This afternoon, just before I came home, I was talking to this girl at Lexington Avenue.' I immediately knew he was talking about the girl who told him about Molly. 'She was telling me about this other girl, when one of the brothers of the girl she was telling me about walked by. He heard us and wanted to know what we were talking about.'

Zeppo looked like he was about to bite his tongue off, looking up to Chico with wide eyes. Gummo's face I couldn't see, but I saw his tense shoulders, ready to cheer when Chico would throw a hit and Groucho was smiling with his mouth opened. The little nine year old bookworm might thought poker and pinochle and other games of chance that Chico liked were childish, but he loved hearing about Chico's fights. I can't say I was any different.

'I told him that he should stick to his own business, but he got mad and whistled and suddenly five other hulky guys, that looked just like him, were by his side. What-a you think? The girl we were talking about had six brothers! And they were all mad at me!'

So the Mole had six brothers. I could easily imagine six big and broad guys, with red mops of hair on top of their heads and hundreds of freckles covering their noses.

'I'm not going to lie – I tried to run like a girl, but one of them caught me by the arm and pushed me against the wall. I kicked him in the stomach and he had to drop me, but two more of them were waiting for me.' Zeppo squeaked.

'One of them hit me in the face and the other one square in the chest. Damn me if that didn't hurt!' He winced for dramatic effect. 'Well I told them they were a bunch of girls for beating up a fourteen year old, but that only made one of them hit me in the face again. Then they let me go, but I spat the one closest to me in the face. I got the hell outta there of course, but it wasn't like they didn't try to catch me. They followed me all the way down to Yorkville before I lost them. On my way home I almost bumped into them again, at the beginning of 93rd street.'

We all laughed, because it was a funny story – not as spectacular as some other stories Chico came home with, but still good enough to make us all fall asleep with a smile on our faces.

enjoyed it?

Please review and tell me what you think of it.. I tried very hard to keep true to reality. And evidentally it's not about the movies, but about their own life.

Disclaimer; They are their own