That morning we got up, ate breakfast and were having an altogether great morning.

Roger even started singing 'Old MacDonald' except that he… changed it a little.

"Lorn Macdonald had a farm,

E I E I O

And on that farm he had a fox

He was dressed in clothes

With an attack here, and a kheeiihhh(a bit like a noise made by a retarded cat) there

here an Attack, there aN kheeiihhh

Everywhere an attack, kheeiihhh

Oh, Lorn Macdonald had a farm

E I E I O"

Don't know who taught him that version. Everyone stared at him strangely, but then Fagin tried consoling him with a "We all have our 'Charlie Bates' moments, no need to worry."

Roger seemed comforted while I was left fuming. Although I have to admit it took me five or ten minutes to get what they were talking about. And by the time I let out a "OI!" The conversation had moved along.

When I did let out an "OI!" though, I got tutted by Fagin.

"Cant you see the boy is trying to sleep?" He said, pointing in Olivers direction.

"Yer Charlie, aint you got no manners?" commented Dodger.

"A brick through the window wouldn't wake that kid up" I mumbled. And so the morning wore on and I felt a strange emotion. Jealousy.

Yes, dare I say it, the carefree, easy going, completely amazing, brilliant, handsome, talented me (I could have gone on, but I decided against it) was jealous.

Not something I am proud of, I assure you.

I am going to have to be extra witty and make sure to stay in Dodgers good books now.

After we left for work, Dodger and I were cruising along in style, Dodger completely showing his new puffy white shirt (or as close to white as you can get when you live with Fagin) I asked a very good question. One of the smartest I have ever thought of asking, I believe. Shame Dodger didn't see it that way. Actually I think he may believe me mad. Sometimes I even believe myself to be mad. But that isn't what I am talking about right now.

"Dodger, do yer think rats go te dances?"

He gave me a funny look (no chairs nearby) and asked, "why?"

I replied, "Coz I fink I jus' saw one sprucing 'imsel' up in a piece o' broken mirror. 'e was even wearin' a bow tie! 'ow ken that be Dodge?"

Dodger looked thoughtful for a moment before turning to me, "I have looked at your question from all angles, added your facts, subtracted your craziness, and have come up with only one possible answer."

"An' wots that?"

"Yer talkin' garbage, tha's wot."

Yay to friendship.

.o:O:o.

"Wots troublin' you Dodger?" We were walking back towards Fagins for lunch – something we don't do too often, but Dodger wanted to check on the Twist kid (Seethe) – and Dodger was looking… I don't know how to put it… not Dodger-like.

"Sikes." He said simply. "'es been 'orid to Nance again."

"That guys a jerk with a capital 'G'" I said.

"I just aint fair. Why aint Nance seein' that I could treat 'er right?"

"Yer know wha? Yer should be like me. Aiming fer the simple pleasures in life, the simple dreams tha' don't involve women. Women are too complicated anyway."

"Oh yeah?" grinned Dodger, "So wots yer 'simple dream' then?"

"To find a red squirrel, call him Lorn and teach him to tap dance."

"What'd yer wanna name 'im Lorn fer?"

"It's a good name!" I defended.

"Well, no offence Charlie, but as good as it sounds, I'm me, and I have no intention of going out of my way to be like you."

He had said no offence, but I was still a little hurt.

Perhaps that's why I went to Nance for advice… but that's later. First things first.

Lunch with Oliver.

It was… interesting.

"Been working my dears?" asked Fagin when we got back, as he almost always did.

"'ard" answed Dodger.

"As nails" I added pulling some bread off a loaf from Dodgers hat.

"I hope you don't have nits I said", inspecting it thoroughly. Dodger paused in buttering his bread and gave me his withering look, then returned to the before mentioned business.

"What have you got there Dodger?"

"Some pocket books."

"Lined?"

"Fairly well"

"Not as well as they could be, Dodger my dear." Fagin said, winking so much I thought he was having a stroke.

"And you, Charlie?"

"Wipes" I said through a mouthful of bread, and pulled them out of my pocket with a flourish.

Fagin inspected them for a moment before saying the marks had to be picked out with a needle. He was doing that winking-stroke thing again. And I finally caught on.

And almost suffocated on a piece of bread.

Noticed nobody tried to save me.

"Would you like to learn to make pocket books and wipes as well as the Dodger and Charlie my dear?"

"Oh yes, if you please sir."

I believe I nearly died many times that lunch, from inhalation of bread. That can't be good for me, "Oh, he is so green!"

Tried to tie the original story in here, hopefully I didn't repeat myself too much here.

Cockney Slang (and thief words or whatever you want to call it);

Wipes: handkerchiefs

Pocketbooks: Wallets

Green: Innocent (best describing word I could think of)

Think that's about it.

Note to DissapearingAct… LORN MACDONALD! that is all ;)