Hiii! I'm back from my major case of writers block with this new story that I decided to start with my friend, Three (or her "real" name is Molly haha) We're really really excited about this, and I'm glad that she decided to write this with me! Hopefully this is funny, and both of us have been told that we are pretty funny, but we'll see:)
It's like the summary says, and it's basically a Dear Abby, but with the Newsies. AND they'll be the little things where it says that they're talking
Three: Like this thing that just popped up here, right, right?
Sweets: Uh, yup, so instead of just having them give answers, you can see who's talking. How great is that?
Dear Newsies
Rules:
You problems should be modern day, I may ask for historical (newsies time) problems later.
No asking if one of the newsies will date you or if they'll marry you for a question. Do you think people write letter to "Dear Abby" like that? Ok… don't answer that!
Remember, you're telling the newsies your problems. I don't think you should necessarily follow their advice. For real help, consult a professional!
When you are stating your problem, make sure to change the names of the people involved. Like if I had a problem with Mush, I wouldn't actually write his name, I would write "Oatmeal" or… something less obvious would work, too.
Your problems can be real or fake. Who knows? Your fake problem might actually help someone else!
If you would like to, sign your letter with something clever like "Dismayed in Denver" or "Loser in Louisiana", that sort of thing covers up who you are, but when it gets solved, you know it was your problem!
Now enough with all the boring rules, on to the letters!
Dear Newsies,
I have a problem. I get called mean names by my "friends" all of the time. This one girl "Suzy" even calls me "Mouse" because of how quiet I am. What should I do?
-NOT A MOUSE!
(The newsies plus Sweets and Three all sit in a modern day cafeteria like room. The newsies look bored and ready to leave… or get on with the advice giving.)
Spot: Well, Mouse, I-
David: She told you she doesn't like that name!
Spot: Shut it you Walkin' Mouth!
Sweets: Both of you be quiet! Does anyone have some actual advide?
(Race raises his hand and jumps up and down like he's a 5 year old hyped up on sugar, or drugs, whichever one works.)
Sweets: Ok… Race, go ahead.
Racetrack: (takes a deep breath, before annunciating every word) I think that she should soak those dirty rotten scabbers! (beams, looking proud of himself.)
David: That never solves anything!
Spot: What are you talking about? It works every time in Brooklyn!
(At the mention of Brooklyn, Boots stands up)
Boots: Hey! We ain't scared of Brooklyn! Spot Conlon makes us… a little nervous.
(Spot smirks and nods while the rest of the newsies look frightened)
Jack: Boots, I thought you got over that fear a long time ago?
(Boots shrugs, while David looks angry)
David: Someone, please let me give my advice!
Sweets: (Annoyed at David) Just go so we can get on with someone else's problems, please!
David: Ignore them; they're obviously just looking for a reaction. Trust me; I understand completely, it happens to me everyday.
(All of the newsies, turn to stare at David, while Les looks embarrassed to be related to him.)
Jack: Davey, we got nothing else to call you… without a newsie name, I mean.
(David sits in his chair and pouts while Mush plays with his mismatched shoe laces. Kid Blink has stolen Les' play sword and keeps saying "Arrr, I'm a pirate", and Spot is still smirking and trying to look tough which he is somehow succeeding in even though he's a few feet shorter than most of them.)
Sweets: (Scribbling David's answer on paper), Ok, I hope that answered the problem, because we're moving on to save our poor newsies from being bored.
Three: Amen to that!
Dear Newsies,
I never seem to be able to have fun. I'll go places with people and I just feel sad. I don't have a bad life at all, but I sometimes feel like I do. Please help!
Signed,
Glum and Dumb in New York
(Gasps are heard around the room as everyone in the room turns to stare at Skittery who glares at all of them.)
Skittery: What?
Kid Blink: Did you write dat letter, Skit? Or do you have a brother or sister that we don't know about?
(Blink gets a shove from Three who looks apologetically at Skittery.)
Three: Sorry Skittery, it's just that… you seem in a bad mood most of the time.
Skittery: (His face starts to get red.) I ain't in a bad mood!
(Skittery starts to mumble reassuringly to himself, and curls up in a fetal position.)
Sweets: Anyone have something to say?
Jack: Yea, what's wrong with Skittery?
Three: One too many anti-depressants…
(All the newsies, including Sweets, turn to stare at her.)
Three: Oh riiiight, you guys don't know what those are.
Sweets: (Whaps Three in the arm) Anyway…
Spot: Maybe this person just ain't having enough fun or going to fun places. We have lots of fun over in Brooklyn.
(Spot looks menacing, and cracks his knuckles. At the mention of Brooklyn, Boots again stands up.)
Boots: Hey! We ain't scared of Brooklyn! Spot Conlon makes us… a little nervous.
Spot: I never get tired of hearing that.
Sweets: I'm sure you don't, Spot.
(Mush stands up and clears his throat.)
Three: Yes, Mush dear, do you have something to say?
Mush: (has a look of fear mixed with nervousness) I agree with Spot. (Glances at Spot who was giving death glares to Sweets a moment before looks up at the mention of his name. Mush sees Spot seeing him and stops.)
Sweets: Keep going, Mush, I'm sure that Spot won't hurt you.
(Spot goes back to giving Sweets his death glare.)
Mush: Oook, so I agree about the first part. This person should have more fun! Like some other people should.
(A random cough is heard somewhere in the back that sounds a lot like coughSkitterycough)
Itey: Can we go now? I gotta sell the evening edition!
(Race starts jumping up and down, again looks like a 5 year old.)
Sweets: Looks like that's all the problems we have time for! Don't forget to send me-
Three: And me! Uhh, on Sweets' account!
Sweets: Umm, yea just send us them in either a review or a PM! Thanks everyone! Byeee!
Three: Yea, Thanks!
(All the newsies look quizzically at them, wondering who they're talking to. The newsies slowly inch themselves away and sprint out the door, where it magically turns into 1899 again.)
