-Kora-
Gene Kloppman, the caretaker of the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House, was very busy doing all sorts of caretaker-stuff when a cry arose from upstairs.
"Kloppman!" Jack called from the bunkroom. "The middle toilet's plugged again!"
Shaking his head wearily, Kloppman trudged up the stairs. "Hold on for a second, I'll get it!" he replied with a sigh.
"Hurry up, Kloppman!" whined Les, hopping from one foot to another. "I really gotta go!"
The older man peered at the youngest Jacobs son. "There's other toilet's here."
Les' voice increased in pitch, if that was possible. "But Mush and David are usin' 'em!"
Kloppman grumbled as he finished inspecting the plugged potty. "Don't know what that kid's doin' here, anyway. Don't he have a home?"
"Phew," Blink held his nose and waved a hand in the air as he passed by the washroom. "It stinks in there. Isn't there somethin' ya can do to make it smell good?"
Kloppman, by then quite perturbed, didn't bother to answer. When he returned from the storage closet with a plunger, Dave and Mush emerged from the other toilet stalls.
"Man, Klopp, it's dirty in there. Dontcha ever clean it?" Kloppman ground his teeth in frustration, but didn't bother to chastise Mush. Yet.
"'Ey Kloppman!" Race yelled from the bunkroom, where he was shuffling a deck of cards. "Ya got anythin' ta eat around here?"
"Only the usual," Jack answered before elderly man could respond.
"Ugh," groaned Race, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "Can't ya make anythin', somethin', better than that slop ya try ta pass off as stew?"
Dave, who had finished up in the washroom, looked around at all the bunks. "Aw, do I have to sleep under Les' bunk?" he complained. Les had certain...bladder problems, and Dave really didn't want to run the risk. "Every time I'm here..." he trailed off as Spot, who was spending the night in Manhattan due to a poker game gone overtime, glared at him.
"Yeah, well, I gots the only other bunk," the Brooklyn leader declared. "And I sure ain't sleepin' under that kid's bunk, so yoah just gonna have ta deal with it, Mouth." Not daring to challenge Spot, Dave held up his hands in defeat and backed away. Off in the other side of the room, Crutchy shivered, and pulled his blanket more tightly around him.
"Sheez, it's cold in here," he said. He addressed Kloppman, who was still in the bunkroom. "Isn't there anythin' ya can do with the heat? I don't think the temperature's good for my leg." Kloppman waved his hand in dismissal,
"Hey, now, that's enough, no more complainin." As he headed back down the stairs, Spot's voice followed him.
"What d'ya mean this is my bunk? This is the draftiest cornah of the room! It ain't fit foah Spot Conlon! I'll have ta speak with yoah management about this!" By the time he had reached the bottom of the stairs, Kloppman was fuming.
"Complain, complain, whine, whine, whine. That's all these kids ever do. If only they knew how good they have it..."
Suddenly, Kloppman was struck with an idea. His eyes glinted in anticipation. He knew what he could do. And he need only wait until the boys fell asleep.
Half an hour later, Kloppman held his breath and listened intently. Nothing. A smile crept upon his face. There was no noise coming from upstairs save the sound of slumbering newsboys. Secretively, glancing around to make sure not even a mouse was watching, Kloppman reached into his desk and pulled something out of a hidden drawer. Chuckling to himself, Kloppman crept up the stairs. He glanced around at the bunks full of potential victims. Selecting his victims, er, students, Kloppman raised the arm that held the object: a wizard's wand. A mysterious grin on his face, Kloppman mumbled the incantation words. There was a burst of wind, and 8 of the room's inhabitants disappeared. Kloppman gave a nod of approval, then returned downstairs to prepare for bed.