Star Crossed Lovers- by Crunch
*Misprint- Oh, its very understandable me dear, run on review are quite time consuming, I know! Any misprint review is more then welcome! Yes, Race on a fishing pole, and you know what the sad part is? I never even caught up with him. It was like one of those carrot on a stick deals-don't they have those for horses? ANY WHOO. ..oh, you really recite my unworthy little rip off? You have no idea how much that really means to me, and on second thought, it's actually kind of pitiful what that means to me. Ah well. Ok, jeesh, remind me never to get on YOUR bad side. And btw, on a 'you think you know' related topic- vile wench? BA HA HA HA!!! More will be said on this later.
*Morning Dew- Oh, morning dew my dear, you are not mistaken. The chapters get shorter and shorter as I get lazier and lazier, you are quite right, and thanks for pointing it out! Don't worry, I'll do better for the end, I just have a nasty habit of rushing TOWARDS the end. I was hoping no one would notice. . . *grins sheepishly* ;D Hopefully I did better for you this time! *waves goodbye and pats a passing race!muse on the butt*
*Shortie - Oh, thank you Shortie! Se, I wrote this crappy one chappy which would not have been possible with out Mushie's real name, so yay for you! Your like the Boy Who Saved Christmas. . .except you're a girl and you didn't save Christmas. Well, maybe you did, but that's another story for another time. Yup, your part, and here you are again! Ooh, such a thrill. Oh, no, don't be sorry, at least you reviewed! But rest assured, I read the latest chapter and it was WONDERFUL! More will be said in a later, unlazier time. WOAH, I didn't even think about that! Wouldn't it be funny if someone did a Matrix/ Newsies parody? No? ok then. . .yes, Nanny is a bit inconsistant in her affections.oh yes, you vile pill-pusher, you, and that's not all you did! Oh, shortie, I just realized I kind of made everything your fault! Heh, heh, oops. Yes, poor nanny. Time machine, eh? Well. . .your suggestion is noted. . .I'll see what I can do for you ;D
*Doll Face- Yes, the end AND the British are coming! Where is that line from anyways? Was it Paul revere? Or am I being a cultural flying ignoramus? I can never tell, so a big hoo yah to my part British faithful reviewer of the millennium award winner! Ah, yes, that was sad, and unfortunately there won't be a happy chappy for some time. *sigh* nono, dear, rambling reviews are never pointless, so thanks a bunch! YEAH! I GET MORE DOLL FACE STORY! I knew you wouldn't let me down, ol chum! ;D
*Rumor- heehee, preferential treatment, that's how you keep the reviewers coming back! MUA HA HA. . . *chokes on evil laughter* ahem. Beer splattered.. well, sure! I figure you always read about the guys chuggin' em down, why cant the girls have their wild nights as well? That's women's lib, right there! Hehe, yeah, well I don't think they're real wedding dresses, just average dresses Nanny managed to rustle up. . .I probably should have said that, huh? He, Nanny the lewd. Actually, shocking as it is, I've never seen the Danes version! I must, I'm so culturally deprived. Yoda, eh? Well, now that I think about it. . .*thinks about it and shudders* Oh yes, spelling, must try to control the fingers from now on. . . Well, I'll make you a deal, I'll keep the twist coming and you keep the helpful suggestions coming, okies? ;D PEACE!
*SparksdaNewsie- A, Sparks, your reviews are both an honor and an enigma. I had to read that one 5 times before I fully understood it, and I laughed harder each time. *glances despairingly towards a still snogging Skittery and snitch muse rolling around on her computer desk* Damn, and I was hoping to have skitts for myself. Ah, c'est la vie!
*Omniscient- heh heh, yes, I'll miss that butt of his. . .*realizes what she just said and sobs into a disgruntled Race!muse's shoulder* Nono, don't fret, Ruby lives on. . .as of this moment. Thanks for the pre-finish review! (pre-finish???)
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"Racetrack?" the boy looked up from his post on the rooftop of the Brooklyn Girl's Lodging House, shivering despite the glaring heat of the beaming midday sun, to see his bride standing before him.
"Ruby?" He would have cried, if he hadn't been laughing from the sheer ecstasy of seeing her. Her smooth young lips curled into a warm, welcoming smile, and her cheeks flushed with joy.
"Hey, Bummah, where ya been all me life?"
Tears of pure joy lodged in his throat as he stumbled to his feet, reluctant to touch the girl for fear she would vanish into thin air. "I. . . I t'ought you was gone! I t'ought you wasn't ever comin' back!"
Ruby laughed, coincidentally, much more elegantly then her usual laugh, with a sound like the tinkling of wind chimes. "Aw, Race, I couldn't leave youse." In one quick movement she pressed her lips against his, in an embrace more forceful then her usual kisses. Race didn't mind at all. Wiping away the tears now streaming freely down his cheeks with the flat of one thumb, she pulled back cautiously and gazed into his eyes. "You're my stars."
He chuckled and sniffled at the same time. "Ruby, I lo- "
RAP. RAP. RAP.
Racetrack jolted awake, gazing around the strange room, disoriented and fearful, until he remembered where he was. He was in Queens, in the filthy basement of a friendly newsie, an ally of Jack's. Ruby was in Brooklyn, where she belonged, instead of crouching in this dank hole with him, where she was wanted. And someone was knocking incessantly on the window of his hideout.
"Hold ya horses, I'm comin'." He grumbled, too tired to wonder who might be calling on him, and rubbed his eyes to clear away the last strands of sleep, starting as he realized his cheeks were moist under the back of his hand. Odd, he didn't usually cry in his sleep. Ah, but then he didn't usually dream about Ruby. Shrugging it off, Race heaved himself from the mattress, shucked off the dingy and moth-bitten sheets, and staggered towards the windowpane, still squinting against the harsh daylight.
"Racetrack!" He started at his name, then grinned when he saw the familiar face bobbing behind the glass.
"Mush! I been waitin' fah youse!" Hefting open the window with all the strength he could muster this early in the morning, he ushered his friend inside, too overjoyed to notice the ominous look on Mush's face as he staggered upright, clutching his cap between two bloodless fists. "You dunno how good it is ta see you, bruddah. What did Kloppman say? How's Ruby? How is Jack and da boys doin'? How's Ruby?"
Mush frowned sympathetically, and the eager smile slowly faded from Race's haggard features. "Race. . .I just found out, an' I t'ought you should know. . ." He sucked in a deep breath before continuing. "She's dead, Race. Ruby's dead. I'm- I'm so sorry, pal- "
"No. . . no way." The strangled whisper that ripped from his friend's throat was enough to break Mush's heart. Then, to the newsie's surprise, a strange chuckle rang through the room, in a voice that he could hardly have pegged for Race's. "Heh, it's a joke, right? Well, it aint real funny, Mush. You should proll'y stick to ya day job."
"It's true, Race. I saw da funeral, at Father Kloppman's choich. I saw 'er coffin." He ploughed onwards as Race swayed in place, reeling as if slapped across the cheek. "I'm sorry I had ta be da one ta tell you. I'm sorry. . ."
"Are you serious?" Race stared at his friend, his mind spinning, his body numb. It felt as if time had stopped, and so had his heart. He was too stunned to ask how, or why, or when; too stunned to cry. All he could feel was the anger bubbling inside him, as he turned his face to the ceiling, hoping that God, or whoever was making his life hell, was listening at that precise moment. "Then FUCK YOU! FUCK IT ALL!"
Gasping for breath as he collapsed to his knees before a terrified Mush, he knew exactly what he had to do. It was the only way. . .
Racetrack swallowed the tears swelling in his throat, and with astounding tranquility, glanced upwards into Mush's worry-lined face. "Fine. I'm fine. I'm . . . I'm gonna go ta Brooklyn. He climbed to his feet, willing himself to stay strong. But it was no use. "Are you sure, Mush? Are you really sure? Didn't Kloppman say anythin'?" He pleaded in a quivering voice.
"No, Race."
The heart-broken boy nodded resignedly, wiping a palm across his quickly drying eyes. "It don't matter. I'll be seein' her soon anyways." With a last shuddering breath, he stiffened his narrow shoulders and strode from the room, with Mush tagging behind him.
"Race! Aww, please don't do anythin' stupid! Racetrack?"
*.*.*.*
"Dis is where your goil works, aint it?" Racetrack hunched his shoulders against the icy breeze whispering down his neck, peering into the alleyway behind Tibby's as Mush shifted uncomfortably in the background.
"Yeah, but. . .I don't get you, Race."
"Don' worry about it." The newsie's voice lacked its usual vibrancy, as did Racetrack. "Just do me a favah an' scout out da choich, ok?"
"Scout it out?"
"Yeah, make soah no one's dere right now. I got a few t'ings ta take care of." Mush shook his head, quite certain that no good could possibly come of this, but unsure of how to dissuade Race with out sending him into another nervous breakdown.
"Racetrack, I don't think. . ."
"I won't be long." Mush shrugged resignedly, squinting as his eyes struggled to pierce the unlit gloom of the alleyway that swallowed Race's disappearing figure.
From her perch on the lid of a dumpster, Shortie could see the undersized young man shuffling down her "block" from a long way off, her wary green eyes being as used to the darkness as those of any other creature of the night. Puffing contentedly on a cigarette, she eyed him suspiciously, sizing up the possible reasons for a boy like himself to be skulking in an alleyway like this, with the likes of her.
"Hey dere, Romeo, what brings you ta my humble home?"
He paused in his tracks, confused, and beginning to regret turning Mush away. But this was one thing he could do right, all by himself. This would set things right.
"Romeo? Uh, I dunno who dat is, but my name's. . ."
"I know ya name aint Romeo, silly, dat's just a figuah of speech. . ." she sighed at the look of utter confusion on his face, deciding that this boy clearly wasn't the brightest candle on the birthday cake, and the direct approach would be best. "So whadya want with me?"
"I, I came lookin' fah- are you Shortie? Mush's Shortie?"
"Yup, I am she, da one and only." Grinning delightedly at his confusion, she jumped from her platform, her shoes meeting the pavement in from of him with a dull THUNK. Race's doubts were understandable, it would be hard for anyone to peg this petite girl for the infamous dealer of everything toxic and hallucination inducing that the body could imagine. With bouncing tawny hair tucked under a coal black cabbie hat, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose, and a cheery grin, she hardly seemed to suit her profession. However, if the rumors were true, then she was the only one who could help him.
"I, um, I need a drug."
"A drug?" she shrugged happily. "Well, you came to da right place. What kind of a drug can I do youse for?"
He swallowed a nervous breath, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Actually, I need some kind a poison."
"Poison? What kind a poison?"
"Da kind dat makes you dead, what da you t'ink?"
Her eager-to-please smile faded momentarily as she searched the young boy's desperate, brownie eyes. "Well, dat wouldn't be so hard produce. It's just. . . kinda weird."
"What's dat?" anxious to be gone, he shoved a trembling hand through his unkempt raven locks.
"I seem ta be havin' a bit of a run on poisons, and so soon aftah Christmas."
He shrugged distractedly, restless to return to his mission before someone, somehow, tried to stop him. Though, really, who would want to stop him? There was no one left. "Tis da season, I guess. Will ya help me or not?"
Reluctantly, she fished from the pocket of her slacks and turned over an ominous looking cobalt bottle for a handful of coins, pressing them to her chest as she glanced remorsefully into his weary eyes. "Look, I dunno youse, and I can't afford ta turn you down, but if you ask me, dis is a mistake."
"Well, I aint askin' you." With a slight nod of his head, Racetrack grabbed at the vial like a lifeline, hunched his shoulders against the bitter wind, and jogged into the night, intent on his next stop; his final stop.
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DUN DUN DUN! Stay tuned till next week for the hopefully heart wrenching next-to-last chapter of STAR CROSSED LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEERS! Reviews are giddily appreciated.
*Misprint- Oh, its very understandable me dear, run on review are quite time consuming, I know! Any misprint review is more then welcome! Yes, Race on a fishing pole, and you know what the sad part is? I never even caught up with him. It was like one of those carrot on a stick deals-don't they have those for horses? ANY WHOO. ..oh, you really recite my unworthy little rip off? You have no idea how much that really means to me, and on second thought, it's actually kind of pitiful what that means to me. Ah well. Ok, jeesh, remind me never to get on YOUR bad side. And btw, on a 'you think you know' related topic- vile wench? BA HA HA HA!!! More will be said on this later.
*Morning Dew- Oh, morning dew my dear, you are not mistaken. The chapters get shorter and shorter as I get lazier and lazier, you are quite right, and thanks for pointing it out! Don't worry, I'll do better for the end, I just have a nasty habit of rushing TOWARDS the end. I was hoping no one would notice. . . *grins sheepishly* ;D Hopefully I did better for you this time! *waves goodbye and pats a passing race!muse on the butt*
*Shortie - Oh, thank you Shortie! Se, I wrote this crappy one chappy which would not have been possible with out Mushie's real name, so yay for you! Your like the Boy Who Saved Christmas. . .except you're a girl and you didn't save Christmas. Well, maybe you did, but that's another story for another time. Yup, your part, and here you are again! Ooh, such a thrill. Oh, no, don't be sorry, at least you reviewed! But rest assured, I read the latest chapter and it was WONDERFUL! More will be said in a later, unlazier time. WOAH, I didn't even think about that! Wouldn't it be funny if someone did a Matrix/ Newsies parody? No? ok then. . .yes, Nanny is a bit inconsistant in her affections.oh yes, you vile pill-pusher, you, and that's not all you did! Oh, shortie, I just realized I kind of made everything your fault! Heh, heh, oops. Yes, poor nanny. Time machine, eh? Well. . .your suggestion is noted. . .I'll see what I can do for you ;D
*Doll Face- Yes, the end AND the British are coming! Where is that line from anyways? Was it Paul revere? Or am I being a cultural flying ignoramus? I can never tell, so a big hoo yah to my part British faithful reviewer of the millennium award winner! Ah, yes, that was sad, and unfortunately there won't be a happy chappy for some time. *sigh* nono, dear, rambling reviews are never pointless, so thanks a bunch! YEAH! I GET MORE DOLL FACE STORY! I knew you wouldn't let me down, ol chum! ;D
*Rumor- heehee, preferential treatment, that's how you keep the reviewers coming back! MUA HA HA. . . *chokes on evil laughter* ahem. Beer splattered.. well, sure! I figure you always read about the guys chuggin' em down, why cant the girls have their wild nights as well? That's women's lib, right there! Hehe, yeah, well I don't think they're real wedding dresses, just average dresses Nanny managed to rustle up. . .I probably should have said that, huh? He, Nanny the lewd. Actually, shocking as it is, I've never seen the Danes version! I must, I'm so culturally deprived. Yoda, eh? Well, now that I think about it. . .*thinks about it and shudders* Oh yes, spelling, must try to control the fingers from now on. . . Well, I'll make you a deal, I'll keep the twist coming and you keep the helpful suggestions coming, okies? ;D PEACE!
*SparksdaNewsie- A, Sparks, your reviews are both an honor and an enigma. I had to read that one 5 times before I fully understood it, and I laughed harder each time. *glances despairingly towards a still snogging Skittery and snitch muse rolling around on her computer desk* Damn, and I was hoping to have skitts for myself. Ah, c'est la vie!
*Omniscient- heh heh, yes, I'll miss that butt of his. . .*realizes what she just said and sobs into a disgruntled Race!muse's shoulder* Nono, don't fret, Ruby lives on. . .as of this moment. Thanks for the pre-finish review! (pre-finish???)
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"Racetrack?" the boy looked up from his post on the rooftop of the Brooklyn Girl's Lodging House, shivering despite the glaring heat of the beaming midday sun, to see his bride standing before him.
"Ruby?" He would have cried, if he hadn't been laughing from the sheer ecstasy of seeing her. Her smooth young lips curled into a warm, welcoming smile, and her cheeks flushed with joy.
"Hey, Bummah, where ya been all me life?"
Tears of pure joy lodged in his throat as he stumbled to his feet, reluctant to touch the girl for fear she would vanish into thin air. "I. . . I t'ought you was gone! I t'ought you wasn't ever comin' back!"
Ruby laughed, coincidentally, much more elegantly then her usual laugh, with a sound like the tinkling of wind chimes. "Aw, Race, I couldn't leave youse." In one quick movement she pressed her lips against his, in an embrace more forceful then her usual kisses. Race didn't mind at all. Wiping away the tears now streaming freely down his cheeks with the flat of one thumb, she pulled back cautiously and gazed into his eyes. "You're my stars."
He chuckled and sniffled at the same time. "Ruby, I lo- "
RAP. RAP. RAP.
Racetrack jolted awake, gazing around the strange room, disoriented and fearful, until he remembered where he was. He was in Queens, in the filthy basement of a friendly newsie, an ally of Jack's. Ruby was in Brooklyn, where she belonged, instead of crouching in this dank hole with him, where she was wanted. And someone was knocking incessantly on the window of his hideout.
"Hold ya horses, I'm comin'." He grumbled, too tired to wonder who might be calling on him, and rubbed his eyes to clear away the last strands of sleep, starting as he realized his cheeks were moist under the back of his hand. Odd, he didn't usually cry in his sleep. Ah, but then he didn't usually dream about Ruby. Shrugging it off, Race heaved himself from the mattress, shucked off the dingy and moth-bitten sheets, and staggered towards the windowpane, still squinting against the harsh daylight.
"Racetrack!" He started at his name, then grinned when he saw the familiar face bobbing behind the glass.
"Mush! I been waitin' fah youse!" Hefting open the window with all the strength he could muster this early in the morning, he ushered his friend inside, too overjoyed to notice the ominous look on Mush's face as he staggered upright, clutching his cap between two bloodless fists. "You dunno how good it is ta see you, bruddah. What did Kloppman say? How's Ruby? How is Jack and da boys doin'? How's Ruby?"
Mush frowned sympathetically, and the eager smile slowly faded from Race's haggard features. "Race. . .I just found out, an' I t'ought you should know. . ." He sucked in a deep breath before continuing. "She's dead, Race. Ruby's dead. I'm- I'm so sorry, pal- "
"No. . . no way." The strangled whisper that ripped from his friend's throat was enough to break Mush's heart. Then, to the newsie's surprise, a strange chuckle rang through the room, in a voice that he could hardly have pegged for Race's. "Heh, it's a joke, right? Well, it aint real funny, Mush. You should proll'y stick to ya day job."
"It's true, Race. I saw da funeral, at Father Kloppman's choich. I saw 'er coffin." He ploughed onwards as Race swayed in place, reeling as if slapped across the cheek. "I'm sorry I had ta be da one ta tell you. I'm sorry. . ."
"Are you serious?" Race stared at his friend, his mind spinning, his body numb. It felt as if time had stopped, and so had his heart. He was too stunned to ask how, or why, or when; too stunned to cry. All he could feel was the anger bubbling inside him, as he turned his face to the ceiling, hoping that God, or whoever was making his life hell, was listening at that precise moment. "Then FUCK YOU! FUCK IT ALL!"
Gasping for breath as he collapsed to his knees before a terrified Mush, he knew exactly what he had to do. It was the only way. . .
Racetrack swallowed the tears swelling in his throat, and with astounding tranquility, glanced upwards into Mush's worry-lined face. "Fine. I'm fine. I'm . . . I'm gonna go ta Brooklyn. He climbed to his feet, willing himself to stay strong. But it was no use. "Are you sure, Mush? Are you really sure? Didn't Kloppman say anythin'?" He pleaded in a quivering voice.
"No, Race."
The heart-broken boy nodded resignedly, wiping a palm across his quickly drying eyes. "It don't matter. I'll be seein' her soon anyways." With a last shuddering breath, he stiffened his narrow shoulders and strode from the room, with Mush tagging behind him.
"Race! Aww, please don't do anythin' stupid! Racetrack?"
*.*.*.*
"Dis is where your goil works, aint it?" Racetrack hunched his shoulders against the icy breeze whispering down his neck, peering into the alleyway behind Tibby's as Mush shifted uncomfortably in the background.
"Yeah, but. . .I don't get you, Race."
"Don' worry about it." The newsie's voice lacked its usual vibrancy, as did Racetrack. "Just do me a favah an' scout out da choich, ok?"
"Scout it out?"
"Yeah, make soah no one's dere right now. I got a few t'ings ta take care of." Mush shook his head, quite certain that no good could possibly come of this, but unsure of how to dissuade Race with out sending him into another nervous breakdown.
"Racetrack, I don't think. . ."
"I won't be long." Mush shrugged resignedly, squinting as his eyes struggled to pierce the unlit gloom of the alleyway that swallowed Race's disappearing figure.
From her perch on the lid of a dumpster, Shortie could see the undersized young man shuffling down her "block" from a long way off, her wary green eyes being as used to the darkness as those of any other creature of the night. Puffing contentedly on a cigarette, she eyed him suspiciously, sizing up the possible reasons for a boy like himself to be skulking in an alleyway like this, with the likes of her.
"Hey dere, Romeo, what brings you ta my humble home?"
He paused in his tracks, confused, and beginning to regret turning Mush away. But this was one thing he could do right, all by himself. This would set things right.
"Romeo? Uh, I dunno who dat is, but my name's. . ."
"I know ya name aint Romeo, silly, dat's just a figuah of speech. . ." she sighed at the look of utter confusion on his face, deciding that this boy clearly wasn't the brightest candle on the birthday cake, and the direct approach would be best. "So whadya want with me?"
"I, I came lookin' fah- are you Shortie? Mush's Shortie?"
"Yup, I am she, da one and only." Grinning delightedly at his confusion, she jumped from her platform, her shoes meeting the pavement in from of him with a dull THUNK. Race's doubts were understandable, it would be hard for anyone to peg this petite girl for the infamous dealer of everything toxic and hallucination inducing that the body could imagine. With bouncing tawny hair tucked under a coal black cabbie hat, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose, and a cheery grin, she hardly seemed to suit her profession. However, if the rumors were true, then she was the only one who could help him.
"I, um, I need a drug."
"A drug?" she shrugged happily. "Well, you came to da right place. What kind of a drug can I do youse for?"
He swallowed a nervous breath, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Actually, I need some kind a poison."
"Poison? What kind a poison?"
"Da kind dat makes you dead, what da you t'ink?"
Her eager-to-please smile faded momentarily as she searched the young boy's desperate, brownie eyes. "Well, dat wouldn't be so hard produce. It's just. . . kinda weird."
"What's dat?" anxious to be gone, he shoved a trembling hand through his unkempt raven locks.
"I seem ta be havin' a bit of a run on poisons, and so soon aftah Christmas."
He shrugged distractedly, restless to return to his mission before someone, somehow, tried to stop him. Though, really, who would want to stop him? There was no one left. "Tis da season, I guess. Will ya help me or not?"
Reluctantly, she fished from the pocket of her slacks and turned over an ominous looking cobalt bottle for a handful of coins, pressing them to her chest as she glanced remorsefully into his weary eyes. "Look, I dunno youse, and I can't afford ta turn you down, but if you ask me, dis is a mistake."
"Well, I aint askin' you." With a slight nod of his head, Racetrack grabbed at the vial like a lifeline, hunched his shoulders against the bitter wind, and jogged into the night, intent on his next stop; his final stop.
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DUN DUN DUN! Stay tuned till next week for the hopefully heart wrenching next-to-last chapter of STAR CROSSED LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEERS! Reviews are giddily appreciated.