Authors Note: Sorry it has taken like three years (not literally, of course) for this to get typed as it has been sitting written on my desk for a month and school keeps taking over my life. any ways I*m almost done. And my bestest friend in the whole wide world is going to the same school as me next year woohoo!! WeÕre going to try to get to stay in the same suite and share a bathroom and all that jazz! Only 7 more days at this school, then at least four more years in college... woohoo! Lets not forget about the two more AP tests (American History and English Language, Lucky Me!), and the five finals... well four if you don*t count gym (and I do NOT count it) Okay enough about me lets listen to Pie-Eater!
Hmm... where to start? IÕm known among the newsies and newsie friends as Pie-Eater. Mein vater gave me that name. IÕve always loved eattin* pie, me dad made it for me, one pie everyday, and I did not even have to share! Vater and I came from the Netherlands (A/N: I love the Netherlands, one of my camp ÒsistersÓ came from there and I wanna go see the country someday!!) and his father taught him about making pastries and pies and his father taught him and his father taught him and so on for centuries back (I think centuries anyway).
I was seven the summer we left the Netherlands. We came over on a boat, me and Vater. At least it was me and Vater when we left. We were traveling in steerage because we were so poor and running from the debtors.
When we were almost to America, to Ellis Island when Vater got sick. Very sick. He died not long after we arrived. I was alone until the newsies of Harlem took me in, and made me one of them.
Even though I was young, Vater had taught me what seemed to be all he knew about baking. It is a well known fact that us Harlem boys are the best fed newsies in the whole city. I usually don*t sell the evening edition because I spend the time while the boys are selling cooking for them. I make rolls, just like Vater*s, and make meals for them, too. I cook biscuits and gravy and bagels and croissants and danish all for breakfast (but I bake them the night before). Vater taught me how to make all of these before I was seven, before we left the old country, and it will be how I earn my living when I can*t be a newsie anymore. But I*ll always feed my Harlem boys.
~ Pie Eater
Okay you guys! IÕve warned you before, no more story unless ya review... and I get another voice... Perhaps some ideas of who needs to talk about their father (or possibly their experience(s) as a father). And whoever doesnÕt review... I know who you are and I will retaliate with some fried oranges... My fryer is gettin* heated up for that express purpose!
Hmm... where to start? IÕm known among the newsies and newsie friends as Pie-Eater. Mein vater gave me that name. IÕve always loved eattin* pie, me dad made it for me, one pie everyday, and I did not even have to share! Vater and I came from the Netherlands (A/N: I love the Netherlands, one of my camp ÒsistersÓ came from there and I wanna go see the country someday!!) and his father taught him about making pastries and pies and his father taught him and his father taught him and so on for centuries back (I think centuries anyway).
I was seven the summer we left the Netherlands. We came over on a boat, me and Vater. At least it was me and Vater when we left. We were traveling in steerage because we were so poor and running from the debtors.
When we were almost to America, to Ellis Island when Vater got sick. Very sick. He died not long after we arrived. I was alone until the newsies of Harlem took me in, and made me one of them.
Even though I was young, Vater had taught me what seemed to be all he knew about baking. It is a well known fact that us Harlem boys are the best fed newsies in the whole city. I usually don*t sell the evening edition because I spend the time while the boys are selling cooking for them. I make rolls, just like Vater*s, and make meals for them, too. I cook biscuits and gravy and bagels and croissants and danish all for breakfast (but I bake them the night before). Vater taught me how to make all of these before I was seven, before we left the old country, and it will be how I earn my living when I can*t be a newsie anymore. But I*ll always feed my Harlem boys.
~ Pie Eater
Okay you guys! IÕve warned you before, no more story unless ya review... and I get another voice... Perhaps some ideas of who needs to talk about their father (or possibly their experience(s) as a father). And whoever doesnÕt review... I know who you are and I will retaliate with some fried oranges... My fryer is gettin* heated up for that express purpose!