Hey, sorry for the delay. First we were in Toronto for the weekend, and
then I was so tired when we got home that I slept almost all of yesterday
afternoon and today. Hopefully, you will all forgive me and review! Go on,
you know you want to.
He awoke to a rising sun. At first, he didn't remember why he was curled up in a large four-poster bed, wrapped in a warm wool blanket. When he did, he groaned. Then he rolled over, reminding himself that Kloppman would not be wandering over to poke him awake with that goddamned broom. More than one newsie had been tempted to snap it.
He yanked the blanket over his head, just as the door burst open and a small bundle of energy attacked him.
"Tony, Tony, get up! Ya gotta get up! Its time ta get up!" Race glared at his sister from a hole in the covers. Great, the first morning he had managed to sleep past the morning edition, he was jumped on way before he needed to be.
"Come along, boy." Race moaned as his Uncle called through the door. " Your aunt wishes to take you shopping before you start school."
Race rolled out of bed, splashing cold water on his face. He moved towards the towel, automatically feeling for anyone who might be thinking of stealing it, and then remembering that Skittery was not here.
It took him a only a moment to get dressed. Then he was dragged down the stairs by Rosie. The children, Teodoro, and Margherita were waiting.
"It's about time." Margherita grumbled, but Teodoro watched him, eyeing his every move. His aunt stepped out of the small dressing room.
"Ah, there you are, Anthony. Are you ready?" Race stared at her, still wondering if this was all a dream.
"Foah what?" he asked, sleepily. She smiled
"Why, to get you too some new clothes." Then she ushered the four children outside and into the waiting carriage.
It wasn't long until they stopped in front of a large store, several stories high. Race sighed and glared at the brick building. He knew when he left it, he would look like a different person, someone he was not. His aunt gently shoved him forward.
They entered and almost instantly, a clerk was beside them. He smiled at aunt Natalia and the children, but he raised his eyebrow at Race and wrinkled his nose only slightly. Anyone else would have missed it, but Race caught it only because he was looking for the look of disgust that was sure to cross the young man's features.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked. She nodded.
"Yes, I need several new sets of clothes for Anthony here, shirts, trousers, coats, shoes. Everything." Race opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it.
"Certainly, ma'am. I'm sure we can find something." And with that, he led Race off. Race followed him, his shoulders slumped.
He led him to a back room where a woman waited. She gave Race the same look the clerk had.
"What does he want?" the clerk nodded at him.
"Mrs. Cammarata brought him in. Says she wants the full works." The woman sighed.
"Honestly, she should know that if you're going to give out charity, these lazy immigrants are better off with a roll or a nickel, not a new set of clothes." Race rolled his eyes, he could easily tell her that he was not an immigrant and would indeed be happy with a nickel. But this was all for Rosie, he reminded himself.
The woman pointed to a stool and Race moved towards it.
"You can understand English, can't you?" she asked, glaring at him. Race rolled his eyes.
"No, I ain't got no idea what youse sayin." Race retorted. If she was going to slander his home, then he was going to show her just what kind of attitude the streets could give you.
"Oh dear," she said, sighing, " it's worse than I thought." Race glared at her and she pointed to the stool again. "Shirt off." Race stared at her.
"Now." He folded his arms across his chest.
"No way!" he said. He had not come here to be humiliated.
"Look kid, it's my job to take your measurements and I plan to do just that. Now take off your clothes and get on that stool this instant." Race bit his lip, but did as she said.
He had never felt to humiliated as the woman circled him, taking note of his thin frame and shallow skin. He stood, shivering, even in the warm summer. From his right, he could see himself in the mirror. And what he saw frightened him.
Was he really that thin that you could see each and every rib? Sure, money had been a little tight lately, what with the strike and none of them having any income for almost two weeks. All the money he'd been saving up had been almost all used to buy food, Kloppman having given them all free nights during those two weeks. When the strike had ended, Race had barely had enough to buy his papes.
He was jerked out of his thoughts when the woman roughly shoved his arm through a sleeve. She handed him the pants and Race yanked them on, dragging his other arm through the shirt sleeve. A coat was thrown over him as well and the woman dragged him off the stool and out into the store.
They found the family not too far off, with Aunt Natalia trying on several hats on Rosie. She smiled when she saw Race.
"Oh, you have done a wonderful job. He looks so much more," she paused, ' civilized." Race sighed and slumped lower. The woman poked him in the small of his back and he straightened, wincing in pain.
"We can have several more sets by this afternoon, if that is convenient." Aunt Natalia nodded, smiling.
"Oh that is just perfect." Then, she led them out and Race closed his eyes, feeling like some sort of dress up doll. It was not a feeling he enjoyed. He sighed as his aunt met someone she knew and took great delight in introducing her new nephew and niece. Little Rosie smiled and giggled at the attention that was paid to her.
Race watched her, fighting the ache in his heart. She was happy, only a child and she knew what she wanted. He was sixteen, almost seventeen, and he had no idea what he wanted. He only knew what he didn't want. He didn't want to end up desperate like his mother. He didn't want to be driven to the factories, only to die before his time and leave his children alone in the world to grow up on the harsh streets.
"Come along, Anthony." Her voice broke through his reverie again. He inwardly sighed and they made their way back outside. Thankfully for him, his aunt felt like taking a walk and so she led the children around to the park. Margherita moaned, but Teodoro only looked on it as a new and better opportunity to follow this boy that intrigued him so much.
As they neared the park, Race heard a familiar voice.
"Extry, extry!" he spun around to see Mush hollering his headlines in what had been Race's spot. He frowned, but pushed it aside. It was a good spot and he wasn't using it anymore. It's only right that someone like Mush should have it.
Suddenly, a whistle blew and Race braced himself, poised to run. The sound of the policeman's whistle had always frightened him. He saw Mush do the same as he turned and fled, only to bump right into a fat policeman who seized his collar.
Mush struggled, but he was caught. Race watched, frowning. Then, a thought came to him. He glanced at his aunt, who was whispering something to her daughter. His cousin and sister were hardly paying attention and so he grinned.
Then he slipped away. He watched them hurry on and was quickly at the policeman's side.
He took a deep breath, praying that he could mimic the accents of his relatives.
"Excuse me, officer. Just what are you doing?" inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief as the voice had not a trace of the streets in it. The officer stared at him, as did Mush.
"I'm making an arrest, kid. None of your business." Race rolled his eyes.
"None of my business, eh? And what am I going to tell my Uncle then? When he doesn't get his paper?" the man stared at him.
"I don't care, kid. Now get out of my way." Race frowned; then he had an idea. Widening his eyes, he pointed behind the man and shouted.
"Look at that!" it was a simple, stupid technique, but it had the desired effect. The man spun around and Race grabbed Mush out of his grip. The two boys took off down the street, darting into a dark alley, and up a fire escape. They had lost him in an instant.
As they watched the man franticly search the alley, they sped off over the rooftops. Mush grinned at Race as they climbed down. Then he took in the fancy clothes.
"Jeez, Race. Where'cha get dose clothes?" Race glanced down at himself and rolled his eyes.
"Ah, me aunt, she don't tink I look like her kid. She says I looked like some street bum and made me get new clothes." Mush laughed.
Race glared at him. "Don't laugh, dey itch. I don't like 'em.' Mush nodded, trying to cover up his laughter.
"Come on, let's go get de uddas. Dey'll wanna see ya." Race nodded and Mush led the way to Tibby's. As soon as they entered the less than respectable establishment, Race shed the jacket and collar that was chocking him. A loud round of greetings echoed around him as his friends instantly welcomed him back into their fold.
Jack made some comment about his new clothes and Race had rolled his eyes, ripping off the tie as well. It was too hot anyway. He quickly ordered a sarsaparilla and a roast beef sandwich.
"So what's it like?" Jack asked. Race frowned, then quickly he smiled again.
"Ah, it's ai'ght. A little confusin', but dey gots moa food den I could eat in a week." His friends laughed.
"Ya selling' wid us?" Blink asked and Race nodded energetically. Anything to sell again.
"Yer wid me.' Jack said, before anyone else could claim him. David frowned, but he could see there was something Jack wanted to talk about with Race and so he said nothing.
As soon as they finished, the newsies filtered out into the street, the rest of the morning edition under their arms and most with the afternoon edition. Jack dragged Race down to the harbor. Race dumped his coat, vest, collar, and tie off behind a trash can and felt much better in only his light white shirt, unbuttoned half way down.
"Extry! Extry!' his voice carried out over the docks, as they hawked the headlines to anxious sailors coming home after long voyages.
It wasn't long before the sun began to dip beneath the skyline and Jack and Race found themselves on the Brooklyn bridge, smoking. Race savored the cigar he had managed to steal and Jack puffed on his cigarette.
"So what's it really like?" Jack asked. Race sighed and stared out over the harbor.
"Ya know, dis was da foist ting I eva saw when we got heah. I can rememba it, jist barely. I slept trough Immigration and da statue a' Liberty, but I rememba da bridge. I remamba I'd neva seen nuttin like it befoa.' He sighed and looked out over the Bay as if he could see the boat that had brought him and his parents from the "Old Country."
Jack let his friend talk.
"It mighta been betta if we had stayed, back in Napoli." He said, still using the Italian word for Naples, the city of his birth, ". But, foah everytin' we had ta go trough ta get heah, I neva felt moah helpless den in dat house."
Jack sighed. So Race didn't like it. He had hoped, he shook his head. Who was he kidding, he had prayed that Race would come home.
"How bad is it?" he asked. Race sighed.
"Is it ungrateful ta hate it so much, ya tink? I mean, dey did offa me a home. And I can't stand it. Too many rules, too many constrictions. Nuttin I do is good enough, nuttin I say is right." Race shook his head.
"But Rosie loves it, and I can't leave her. I can't, I promised I neva would. But it's only been one day and already I hate it." Race's voice was quiet, sober, fearful. Jack wondered what he could do to help his friend.
"Yer her brudda, ya gotta watch out foah her. But I don't tink she wants ya forcin' yaself ta do sumdin ya don't wanna." He said, putting his hand on Race's shoulder. Race sighed.
"She's only ten, Jack. She don't know what life is like widout me. She don't know all da tings I do foah her. She don't know dat yestaday, I didn't eat so she could. She don't know dat, and I ain't tellin' her."
"Then why do ya do 'em?" Jack asked, knowing the answer.
"Ya had a brudda once, Jack. Ya know." Jack winced, knowing Race had only brought up Jamie to prove his point, but the memories still hurt.
"Yeah, I know." They were both silent, smoking as they watched the sun go down. Then they made their way back home.
It hurt Race not to follow Jack down Duane street, and to go on, moving uptown slowly, as he trudged up the dark streets. Soon, he found himself in front of the large brownstone and sighed.
Then he marched up the steps and pushed open the door. The lights were still on, and he could hear voices in the study to his right. Race tried to sneak up the stairs, but the door opened, his aunt rushing out.
She gasped and pulled him into a tight hug. Race winced and struggled as his Uncle and grandmother exited the study.
"Oh dear Lord, I was so worried. One minute there, the next, you were gone!" his aunt cried. Race rolled his eyes.
"I jist saw one a me pals. Didn't mean ta be so late, but we got ta talkin'. Dat's all, I sweah." Race said. So it wasn't the whole truth, they didn't need to know that.
"Regardless, that was a foolish and dangerous thing to do, running away from your aunt like that." His Uncle said, glaring at him. Race sighed, back home, he would never get lectured about being late.
"Because of your disregard for the rules we have set, I am going to insist that you go to your room and remain there for the rest of the evening." Race stared at him.
"But what about dinna?" he asked, as his stomach rumbled.
"Perhaps a missed meal will remind you of the rules." Race shook his head, he couldn't believe it! For the first time in his life, he was able to eat as much as he wanted, and now, because of some simple stupid rule, they were depriving him of that very right to eat.
"I don't believe dis!" he growled, " Takin' away me food jist because I didn't follah one a yer stupid rules? Ya ain't got no idea what dis places means ta me. When was da last time any a youse went hungry? Huh? When was da last time youse skipped a meal so dat da younga ones could eat? When was da last time ya slept outside in da rain jist so's youse could eat da next day?" he glared at his aunt and Uncle who were staring at him. " Ya know what it's like ta be hungry? Ta know dat ya have ta choose between a meal or a bed because ya ain't got money foah both?" Their silence was more of an answer than Race needed. "Dat's what I thought." He grumbled, before turning on his heel.
He slammed his door behind him, and threw himself on the bed. His stomach growled and he moaned, shoving his face into the pillow.
"Ah, shut it, will ya?" he mumbled to his protesting stomach. He closed his eyes and sighed. This was the grand life? He snorted, he'd take his old simple life over this any day.
Race rolled over, and with much difficultly, he fell asleep.
He awoke to a rising sun. At first, he didn't remember why he was curled up in a large four-poster bed, wrapped in a warm wool blanket. When he did, he groaned. Then he rolled over, reminding himself that Kloppman would not be wandering over to poke him awake with that goddamned broom. More than one newsie had been tempted to snap it.
He yanked the blanket over his head, just as the door burst open and a small bundle of energy attacked him.
"Tony, Tony, get up! Ya gotta get up! Its time ta get up!" Race glared at his sister from a hole in the covers. Great, the first morning he had managed to sleep past the morning edition, he was jumped on way before he needed to be.
"Come along, boy." Race moaned as his Uncle called through the door. " Your aunt wishes to take you shopping before you start school."
Race rolled out of bed, splashing cold water on his face. He moved towards the towel, automatically feeling for anyone who might be thinking of stealing it, and then remembering that Skittery was not here.
It took him a only a moment to get dressed. Then he was dragged down the stairs by Rosie. The children, Teodoro, and Margherita were waiting.
"It's about time." Margherita grumbled, but Teodoro watched him, eyeing his every move. His aunt stepped out of the small dressing room.
"Ah, there you are, Anthony. Are you ready?" Race stared at her, still wondering if this was all a dream.
"Foah what?" he asked, sleepily. She smiled
"Why, to get you too some new clothes." Then she ushered the four children outside and into the waiting carriage.
It wasn't long until they stopped in front of a large store, several stories high. Race sighed and glared at the brick building. He knew when he left it, he would look like a different person, someone he was not. His aunt gently shoved him forward.
They entered and almost instantly, a clerk was beside them. He smiled at aunt Natalia and the children, but he raised his eyebrow at Race and wrinkled his nose only slightly. Anyone else would have missed it, but Race caught it only because he was looking for the look of disgust that was sure to cross the young man's features.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked. She nodded.
"Yes, I need several new sets of clothes for Anthony here, shirts, trousers, coats, shoes. Everything." Race opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it.
"Certainly, ma'am. I'm sure we can find something." And with that, he led Race off. Race followed him, his shoulders slumped.
He led him to a back room where a woman waited. She gave Race the same look the clerk had.
"What does he want?" the clerk nodded at him.
"Mrs. Cammarata brought him in. Says she wants the full works." The woman sighed.
"Honestly, she should know that if you're going to give out charity, these lazy immigrants are better off with a roll or a nickel, not a new set of clothes." Race rolled his eyes, he could easily tell her that he was not an immigrant and would indeed be happy with a nickel. But this was all for Rosie, he reminded himself.
The woman pointed to a stool and Race moved towards it.
"You can understand English, can't you?" she asked, glaring at him. Race rolled his eyes.
"No, I ain't got no idea what youse sayin." Race retorted. If she was going to slander his home, then he was going to show her just what kind of attitude the streets could give you.
"Oh dear," she said, sighing, " it's worse than I thought." Race glared at her and she pointed to the stool again. "Shirt off." Race stared at her.
"Now." He folded his arms across his chest.
"No way!" he said. He had not come here to be humiliated.
"Look kid, it's my job to take your measurements and I plan to do just that. Now take off your clothes and get on that stool this instant." Race bit his lip, but did as she said.
He had never felt to humiliated as the woman circled him, taking note of his thin frame and shallow skin. He stood, shivering, even in the warm summer. From his right, he could see himself in the mirror. And what he saw frightened him.
Was he really that thin that you could see each and every rib? Sure, money had been a little tight lately, what with the strike and none of them having any income for almost two weeks. All the money he'd been saving up had been almost all used to buy food, Kloppman having given them all free nights during those two weeks. When the strike had ended, Race had barely had enough to buy his papes.
He was jerked out of his thoughts when the woman roughly shoved his arm through a sleeve. She handed him the pants and Race yanked them on, dragging his other arm through the shirt sleeve. A coat was thrown over him as well and the woman dragged him off the stool and out into the store.
They found the family not too far off, with Aunt Natalia trying on several hats on Rosie. She smiled when she saw Race.
"Oh, you have done a wonderful job. He looks so much more," she paused, ' civilized." Race sighed and slumped lower. The woman poked him in the small of his back and he straightened, wincing in pain.
"We can have several more sets by this afternoon, if that is convenient." Aunt Natalia nodded, smiling.
"Oh that is just perfect." Then, she led them out and Race closed his eyes, feeling like some sort of dress up doll. It was not a feeling he enjoyed. He sighed as his aunt met someone she knew and took great delight in introducing her new nephew and niece. Little Rosie smiled and giggled at the attention that was paid to her.
Race watched her, fighting the ache in his heart. She was happy, only a child and she knew what she wanted. He was sixteen, almost seventeen, and he had no idea what he wanted. He only knew what he didn't want. He didn't want to end up desperate like his mother. He didn't want to be driven to the factories, only to die before his time and leave his children alone in the world to grow up on the harsh streets.
"Come along, Anthony." Her voice broke through his reverie again. He inwardly sighed and they made their way back outside. Thankfully for him, his aunt felt like taking a walk and so she led the children around to the park. Margherita moaned, but Teodoro only looked on it as a new and better opportunity to follow this boy that intrigued him so much.
As they neared the park, Race heard a familiar voice.
"Extry, extry!" he spun around to see Mush hollering his headlines in what had been Race's spot. He frowned, but pushed it aside. It was a good spot and he wasn't using it anymore. It's only right that someone like Mush should have it.
Suddenly, a whistle blew and Race braced himself, poised to run. The sound of the policeman's whistle had always frightened him. He saw Mush do the same as he turned and fled, only to bump right into a fat policeman who seized his collar.
Mush struggled, but he was caught. Race watched, frowning. Then, a thought came to him. He glanced at his aunt, who was whispering something to her daughter. His cousin and sister were hardly paying attention and so he grinned.
Then he slipped away. He watched them hurry on and was quickly at the policeman's side.
He took a deep breath, praying that he could mimic the accents of his relatives.
"Excuse me, officer. Just what are you doing?" inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief as the voice had not a trace of the streets in it. The officer stared at him, as did Mush.
"I'm making an arrest, kid. None of your business." Race rolled his eyes.
"None of my business, eh? And what am I going to tell my Uncle then? When he doesn't get his paper?" the man stared at him.
"I don't care, kid. Now get out of my way." Race frowned; then he had an idea. Widening his eyes, he pointed behind the man and shouted.
"Look at that!" it was a simple, stupid technique, but it had the desired effect. The man spun around and Race grabbed Mush out of his grip. The two boys took off down the street, darting into a dark alley, and up a fire escape. They had lost him in an instant.
As they watched the man franticly search the alley, they sped off over the rooftops. Mush grinned at Race as they climbed down. Then he took in the fancy clothes.
"Jeez, Race. Where'cha get dose clothes?" Race glanced down at himself and rolled his eyes.
"Ah, me aunt, she don't tink I look like her kid. She says I looked like some street bum and made me get new clothes." Mush laughed.
Race glared at him. "Don't laugh, dey itch. I don't like 'em.' Mush nodded, trying to cover up his laughter.
"Come on, let's go get de uddas. Dey'll wanna see ya." Race nodded and Mush led the way to Tibby's. As soon as they entered the less than respectable establishment, Race shed the jacket and collar that was chocking him. A loud round of greetings echoed around him as his friends instantly welcomed him back into their fold.
Jack made some comment about his new clothes and Race had rolled his eyes, ripping off the tie as well. It was too hot anyway. He quickly ordered a sarsaparilla and a roast beef sandwich.
"So what's it like?" Jack asked. Race frowned, then quickly he smiled again.
"Ah, it's ai'ght. A little confusin', but dey gots moa food den I could eat in a week." His friends laughed.
"Ya selling' wid us?" Blink asked and Race nodded energetically. Anything to sell again.
"Yer wid me.' Jack said, before anyone else could claim him. David frowned, but he could see there was something Jack wanted to talk about with Race and so he said nothing.
As soon as they finished, the newsies filtered out into the street, the rest of the morning edition under their arms and most with the afternoon edition. Jack dragged Race down to the harbor. Race dumped his coat, vest, collar, and tie off behind a trash can and felt much better in only his light white shirt, unbuttoned half way down.
"Extry! Extry!' his voice carried out over the docks, as they hawked the headlines to anxious sailors coming home after long voyages.
It wasn't long before the sun began to dip beneath the skyline and Jack and Race found themselves on the Brooklyn bridge, smoking. Race savored the cigar he had managed to steal and Jack puffed on his cigarette.
"So what's it really like?" Jack asked. Race sighed and stared out over the harbor.
"Ya know, dis was da foist ting I eva saw when we got heah. I can rememba it, jist barely. I slept trough Immigration and da statue a' Liberty, but I rememba da bridge. I remamba I'd neva seen nuttin like it befoa.' He sighed and looked out over the Bay as if he could see the boat that had brought him and his parents from the "Old Country."
Jack let his friend talk.
"It mighta been betta if we had stayed, back in Napoli." He said, still using the Italian word for Naples, the city of his birth, ". But, foah everytin' we had ta go trough ta get heah, I neva felt moah helpless den in dat house."
Jack sighed. So Race didn't like it. He had hoped, he shook his head. Who was he kidding, he had prayed that Race would come home.
"How bad is it?" he asked. Race sighed.
"Is it ungrateful ta hate it so much, ya tink? I mean, dey did offa me a home. And I can't stand it. Too many rules, too many constrictions. Nuttin I do is good enough, nuttin I say is right." Race shook his head.
"But Rosie loves it, and I can't leave her. I can't, I promised I neva would. But it's only been one day and already I hate it." Race's voice was quiet, sober, fearful. Jack wondered what he could do to help his friend.
"Yer her brudda, ya gotta watch out foah her. But I don't tink she wants ya forcin' yaself ta do sumdin ya don't wanna." He said, putting his hand on Race's shoulder. Race sighed.
"She's only ten, Jack. She don't know what life is like widout me. She don't know all da tings I do foah her. She don't know dat yestaday, I didn't eat so she could. She don't know dat, and I ain't tellin' her."
"Then why do ya do 'em?" Jack asked, knowing the answer.
"Ya had a brudda once, Jack. Ya know." Jack winced, knowing Race had only brought up Jamie to prove his point, but the memories still hurt.
"Yeah, I know." They were both silent, smoking as they watched the sun go down. Then they made their way back home.
It hurt Race not to follow Jack down Duane street, and to go on, moving uptown slowly, as he trudged up the dark streets. Soon, he found himself in front of the large brownstone and sighed.
Then he marched up the steps and pushed open the door. The lights were still on, and he could hear voices in the study to his right. Race tried to sneak up the stairs, but the door opened, his aunt rushing out.
She gasped and pulled him into a tight hug. Race winced and struggled as his Uncle and grandmother exited the study.
"Oh dear Lord, I was so worried. One minute there, the next, you were gone!" his aunt cried. Race rolled his eyes.
"I jist saw one a me pals. Didn't mean ta be so late, but we got ta talkin'. Dat's all, I sweah." Race said. So it wasn't the whole truth, they didn't need to know that.
"Regardless, that was a foolish and dangerous thing to do, running away from your aunt like that." His Uncle said, glaring at him. Race sighed, back home, he would never get lectured about being late.
"Because of your disregard for the rules we have set, I am going to insist that you go to your room and remain there for the rest of the evening." Race stared at him.
"But what about dinna?" he asked, as his stomach rumbled.
"Perhaps a missed meal will remind you of the rules." Race shook his head, he couldn't believe it! For the first time in his life, he was able to eat as much as he wanted, and now, because of some simple stupid rule, they were depriving him of that very right to eat.
"I don't believe dis!" he growled, " Takin' away me food jist because I didn't follah one a yer stupid rules? Ya ain't got no idea what dis places means ta me. When was da last time any a youse went hungry? Huh? When was da last time youse skipped a meal so dat da younga ones could eat? When was da last time ya slept outside in da rain jist so's youse could eat da next day?" he glared at his aunt and Uncle who were staring at him. " Ya know what it's like ta be hungry? Ta know dat ya have ta choose between a meal or a bed because ya ain't got money foah both?" Their silence was more of an answer than Race needed. "Dat's what I thought." He grumbled, before turning on his heel.
He slammed his door behind him, and threw himself on the bed. His stomach growled and he moaned, shoving his face into the pillow.
"Ah, shut it, will ya?" he mumbled to his protesting stomach. He closed his eyes and sighed. This was the grand life? He snorted, he'd take his old simple life over this any day.
Race rolled over, and with much difficultly, he fell asleep.