Interview With a Newsie
Tape Number 24601
Date: September 30, 2033 Time: 15:04 EST Location: Time Space Continuum Lab, Top Secret Interviewer: Brandy Lee Leichliter, aka: Gryffin
Government Physicist, West Virginia University 2008 Interviewee: Anthony Higgins, aka: Racetrack
Newsboy, New York City 1899
Racetrack: Where am I?
Gryffin: You are in a secret, underground lair controlled by the United States Government in the year 2033.
Racetrack: Oh. You mean dat I drank too much beer again an' I'm havin dem. dem. wadja call 'ems.
Gryffin: Delusions?
Racetrack: Yeah! Dat's it! Delusions.
Gryffin: Not really, but as this will all seem like a dream to you when you wake up again in 1899, I suppose that you can think that this is a drunken delusion if you please. Now Mr. Higgins, I have a few questions for you about your life.
Racetrack: Shoah, go ahead.
Gryffin: First, I will need to clip this to your chest. Please speak clearly, but not directly into it.
Racetrack: What is dat ting?
Gryffin: This? It is a microphone.
Racetrack: What's it do?
Gryffin: It will record your voice, as it comes from your mouth, and copy it so that we can listen to it again later. Is that okay with you, Mr. Higgins?
Racetrack: Shoah, it don't mattah, since dis is a delusion anyway.
Gryffin: Wonderful. The first question is off the record. It comes from my associate in the Department of the Observation of Independent Writing. Her name is Artemis, if you care to know. This is her question: Have you lost that loving feeling?
Racetrack: What!?!
Gryffin: You know, that loving feeling? *to mike* Subject looks confused. Question will be skipped due to lack of knowledge of the subject. *to subject* How did you come by the nickname of 'Racetrack?'
Racetrack: When I'se was just startin' as a Newsie, I spent a lot of my time sellin' me papes at Sheepshead Bay Racetrack. De boys jus' started ta know dat I sold dere, so dey called me Racetrack.
Gryffin: You know a boy called 'Mush,' who was also known as Nick Meyers, do you not?
Racetrack: Yeah, I knows 'im.
Gryffin: In that case, since you got the name of Racetrack from selling at the gambling establishment, then why was Mr. Meyers referred to as 'Mush' rather than 'Harbor,' the place where he sold?
Racetrack: Do you'se really tink dat a guy who is as soft as Mushy is deserves such a tough name as 'Harbor?'
Gryffin: No, I suppose not. Racetrack, what is your occupation?
Racetrack: Newsboy/Professional Gambler/Strike Organizer
Gryffin: Did you like your occupation?
Racetrack: Which one?
Gryffin: Any of them.
Racetrack: I likes bein' a Newsie. We'se da most respected kids in New York. It's even bettah bein' a Manhattan Newsie, since we started da strike an' all. People really starts ta respect us, ya know? An' I likes bein' a gambler. I'se good at it, most a da time.
Gryffin: How did you come about being a professional gambler with the poor wages you earned as a Newsie?
Racetrack: I bummed some a it offa guys I knew who could afford ta loose a nickel or a dime every so often. Like I said, I was pretty good at it dough, sos once I got started, I got back more money dan I put in. I'se jus' a boy dough, I goes out an' spends it all again once I make it up.
Gryffin: Were there any girl Newsies?
Racetrack: Yeah, dere was about one goirl Newsie for every guy Newsie. Dey's all real tough goirls, dough. Dey don' act like goirls. Mosta dem wear pants an' some even cut deir hair off ta look more like a guy.
Gryffin: You are notorious for having an excellent poker game, Race. Have you ever cheated at this game?
Racetrack: Me? Cheat!? I'd nevah cheat no one! I's a good, honest playah. It's not my fault dat I was born wid a gift for gettin' da right cards an' havin' a straight face.
Gryffin: *to mike* subject looks indignant. I believe he is not telling the complete truth. *to subject* Did you actually ever date Spot Conlon?
Racetrack: What!?
Gryffin: *subject looks indignant again* Never mind, Racetrack. Let's see, did you ever date Jack. Mush. Blink. More simply put, have you ever had sexual relations with any of the Newsies? *to mike* subject is dumbstruck. His mouth is gaping and his hands are clutching the table. The knuckles appear to be turning white under all of the dirt. *to Race* Moving on to question number eleven. What was the hardest part about the strike against the World?
Racetrack: All da dancin'. It took us over a month jus' ta get dem big dance scenes done sos dat da people a New York would pay attention to us.
Gryffin: Really? How interesting. You are being very cooperative, Racetrack. Thank you, by the way. Question number twelve: Did you run away from home because you father was in the Mafia?
*SLAM*
*to mike* subject is obviously upset. Question seems to have hit an emotional point. Subject is standing, leaning over the table, looking very angry.
Racetrack: Who tole you dat? You don' got no proof. You can' prove anythin'! I ain't goin' back dere! I ain't gonna go!
Gryffin: I agree. I have no proof. It was just a question, Racetrack. Please resume your seat. We are out of questions, Mr. Higgins. Thank you very much for your time. You will shortly be returned to the year 1899 in New York City at the Newsboys' Lodging House, where you were found. You will awaken with a vague memory of this place, but you will think of it as nothing more than a drunken dream. *to mike* end tape, 15:57 EST. Subject success. Tape number 24601
End tape.
A/N: Okay, this once again started out as an English paper. I don't know where it came from, and it is rather random, but I thought it would be fun to torture Race for a while. Hope you enjoy! ^_^ Please review!
Tape Number 24601
Date: September 30, 2033 Time: 15:04 EST Location: Time Space Continuum Lab, Top Secret Interviewer: Brandy Lee Leichliter, aka: Gryffin
Government Physicist, West Virginia University 2008 Interviewee: Anthony Higgins, aka: Racetrack
Newsboy, New York City 1899
Racetrack: Where am I?
Gryffin: You are in a secret, underground lair controlled by the United States Government in the year 2033.
Racetrack: Oh. You mean dat I drank too much beer again an' I'm havin dem. dem. wadja call 'ems.
Gryffin: Delusions?
Racetrack: Yeah! Dat's it! Delusions.
Gryffin: Not really, but as this will all seem like a dream to you when you wake up again in 1899, I suppose that you can think that this is a drunken delusion if you please. Now Mr. Higgins, I have a few questions for you about your life.
Racetrack: Shoah, go ahead.
Gryffin: First, I will need to clip this to your chest. Please speak clearly, but not directly into it.
Racetrack: What is dat ting?
Gryffin: This? It is a microphone.
Racetrack: What's it do?
Gryffin: It will record your voice, as it comes from your mouth, and copy it so that we can listen to it again later. Is that okay with you, Mr. Higgins?
Racetrack: Shoah, it don't mattah, since dis is a delusion anyway.
Gryffin: Wonderful. The first question is off the record. It comes from my associate in the Department of the Observation of Independent Writing. Her name is Artemis, if you care to know. This is her question: Have you lost that loving feeling?
Racetrack: What!?!
Gryffin: You know, that loving feeling? *to mike* Subject looks confused. Question will be skipped due to lack of knowledge of the subject. *to subject* How did you come by the nickname of 'Racetrack?'
Racetrack: When I'se was just startin' as a Newsie, I spent a lot of my time sellin' me papes at Sheepshead Bay Racetrack. De boys jus' started ta know dat I sold dere, so dey called me Racetrack.
Gryffin: You know a boy called 'Mush,' who was also known as Nick Meyers, do you not?
Racetrack: Yeah, I knows 'im.
Gryffin: In that case, since you got the name of Racetrack from selling at the gambling establishment, then why was Mr. Meyers referred to as 'Mush' rather than 'Harbor,' the place where he sold?
Racetrack: Do you'se really tink dat a guy who is as soft as Mushy is deserves such a tough name as 'Harbor?'
Gryffin: No, I suppose not. Racetrack, what is your occupation?
Racetrack: Newsboy/Professional Gambler/Strike Organizer
Gryffin: Did you like your occupation?
Racetrack: Which one?
Gryffin: Any of them.
Racetrack: I likes bein' a Newsie. We'se da most respected kids in New York. It's even bettah bein' a Manhattan Newsie, since we started da strike an' all. People really starts ta respect us, ya know? An' I likes bein' a gambler. I'se good at it, most a da time.
Gryffin: How did you come about being a professional gambler with the poor wages you earned as a Newsie?
Racetrack: I bummed some a it offa guys I knew who could afford ta loose a nickel or a dime every so often. Like I said, I was pretty good at it dough, sos once I got started, I got back more money dan I put in. I'se jus' a boy dough, I goes out an' spends it all again once I make it up.
Gryffin: Were there any girl Newsies?
Racetrack: Yeah, dere was about one goirl Newsie for every guy Newsie. Dey's all real tough goirls, dough. Dey don' act like goirls. Mosta dem wear pants an' some even cut deir hair off ta look more like a guy.
Gryffin: You are notorious for having an excellent poker game, Race. Have you ever cheated at this game?
Racetrack: Me? Cheat!? I'd nevah cheat no one! I's a good, honest playah. It's not my fault dat I was born wid a gift for gettin' da right cards an' havin' a straight face.
Gryffin: *to mike* subject looks indignant. I believe he is not telling the complete truth. *to subject* Did you actually ever date Spot Conlon?
Racetrack: What!?
Gryffin: *subject looks indignant again* Never mind, Racetrack. Let's see, did you ever date Jack. Mush. Blink. More simply put, have you ever had sexual relations with any of the Newsies? *to mike* subject is dumbstruck. His mouth is gaping and his hands are clutching the table. The knuckles appear to be turning white under all of the dirt. *to Race* Moving on to question number eleven. What was the hardest part about the strike against the World?
Racetrack: All da dancin'. It took us over a month jus' ta get dem big dance scenes done sos dat da people a New York would pay attention to us.
Gryffin: Really? How interesting. You are being very cooperative, Racetrack. Thank you, by the way. Question number twelve: Did you run away from home because you father was in the Mafia?
*SLAM*
*to mike* subject is obviously upset. Question seems to have hit an emotional point. Subject is standing, leaning over the table, looking very angry.
Racetrack: Who tole you dat? You don' got no proof. You can' prove anythin'! I ain't goin' back dere! I ain't gonna go!
Gryffin: I agree. I have no proof. It was just a question, Racetrack. Please resume your seat. We are out of questions, Mr. Higgins. Thank you very much for your time. You will shortly be returned to the year 1899 in New York City at the Newsboys' Lodging House, where you were found. You will awaken with a vague memory of this place, but you will think of it as nothing more than a drunken dream. *to mike* end tape, 15:57 EST. Subject success. Tape number 24601
End tape.
A/N: Okay, this once again started out as an English paper. I don't know where it came from, and it is rather random, but I thought it would be fun to torture Race for a while. Hope you enjoy! ^_^ Please review!