I was famous.
Don't laugh! I was famous beyond what you can possibly imagine! I was pictured in paintings and posters all over the civilized world! And-and you would believe I'm over a hundred years old, heh? I don't look a day over twenty, do I?
Hey! I was friends with very powerful people too! There – there was this very prestigious family in New England, back in the day, you know. And I was their oldest son's playmate. If I was with you back then, you would be respected as none other, believe me! I was the companion of the highest class, and only them!
Years passed by. I stayed with this family for a while. But one day, in about 1885, I think…it must have been April, because this was the first time in a long time we'd gone walking together and there wasn't any snow on the ground. I noticed this boy – real short, kinda shifty – sneaking along behind us. I just ignored him, ya know? What could he do to me?
He grabbed me. My master didn't even notice! Shows how much I'm worth to him. Anyway, this grubby boy kinda leers at me and says, "You're mine now."
He has no idea how to treat me. He doesn't go for walks with me, he doesn't make me stay by the door. He makes me sleep under his bed, so the other boys don't get any ideas. But I'm kinda lucky, I guess. This boy…he isn't like the pompous fool I used to work for. He isn't snobbishly rich beyond anyone's wildest imagination. He's…he's kind to almost everyone, and very creative at making do with what he has. I respect him because he's tough as nails. He has to be.
He's the King of Brooklyn.
And I…I tell everyone that, riding in his belt loop day after day.
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Yeah. Really dull, I know. My creative motor is in the shop. My idea for this story was brought by a painting in my AP History book of those three Quaker kids...and the boy had a cane, and i was like, "Hey, that's Spots!" So, yeah. I don't own Newsies.