Free Companies Inc. Presents:
Writer's Block Strikes Again!
A slightly deranged fic by Keza: Queen of Procrastination
A/N: Ark! So many profiles! Don't worry, even though mean FFN took down the story and suspended me, (glares) I still have all your profiles and such. If you sent me a profile, you will be written in! I'll do it somehow! So don't fret! Review instead!
Last Chapter: Race's 8th or 9th sense - he can never remember which one - wakes him up in the middle of the night. He is knocked unconscious by a random block and dreams about two not-so-heavenly bodies that come to visit him and tell him about a Dark Force that has taken over the land (city). Race enlists Blink to help him, and they're off!
+
"Listen," Blink said over a mouthful of oatmeal. "I still dunno what the hell we doin', but if it gets us outta sellin', then it's fine by me," he paused a moment, thoughtful. "Uh… Say Race, 'ose payin for dis stuff anyway?"
"The food? Oh, it's on the house. See, I told de ownah of Tibby's that we was on a mission from God."
"Ahr we?"
"Well, shoah! I mean… Dey LOOKED like angels, right? I'll have some plain bread, please… Toasted. Yeah. Nuttin else. Thanks," I reminded a nearby waiter.
"Well… I guess," Blink agreed doubtfully.
"So, alls we needs ta figger out is how we're supposed to find dese people."
"And cure dem."
"Right. Any ideas?" Silence. "Grand."
"I guess we should just start looking," Blink said as he drowned a glass of water. "Maybe some of the authors are heah in Manhattan, right undah ah noses…"
+
Blink squinted up at the street sign. I finished lighting his cigar and joined my friend.
"Nevermind that. Whats'ername… Falco… Said dese crazy goils slept in alleys and such. Let's start there." Blink shrugged and followed faithfully. I strode up to the nearest alley and took my cigar out with one hand, using the other to cup around my mouth. "'Ey! Authors! Any authors in dere?" I stopped and turned to Blink with a shrug. Blink motioned to me to keep trying. "GOILS? WRITAHS!" I obliged.
"Dis is goin' nowhere."
"Tell meh about it."
Blink slumped against the wall of a near building and lit a cigarette for himself.
"Aren't these authors supposed to be, like, swarming da city? Why not just wait for dem to come ta us?" I took a satisfying drag on my cigar, face scrunched up in thought. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get any words out, a small doll fell from the window above Blink's seat and landed with a thud a few feet from the us. Moments later a mini eye patch fluttered down and settled to the pavement. A screech erupted from the window.
"NOOOOOOO! BLINKY!" Blink's head whipped around to face me. The clatter of heavy boots was heard as we listened and tracked the runner's progress from the third floor to the street. Moments later a side door burst open and an average sized girl with dirty blonde hair came flying out. She skidded on the street and grabbed for the doll, which Blink realized looked exactly like a smaller version of himself. The girl picked up the doll and cooed at it happily, then located the eye patch and tied it back onto the doll's head. Her priorities taken care of, she finally took notice of us. I took another much needed drag on my cigar as she sized me up. Could this be one of the authors? Or was it just a coincidence that she had a doll with frightening resemblance to Blink?
She seemed to recognize me, and nodded with a satisfied air. When she turned to Blink, however, that air disappeared and they both went down in a flurry of arms and legs. I coughed on some smoke and hurriedly helped Blink remove himself from the girls grasp. Blink stood shakily and pointed at the girl.
"What… I…Er… Uhhmggnn… Who ARE you?" he finally managed to sputter. The girl picked up her Blink-doll and smiled.
"Spitshine! How ya boys doin'?" Blank stares from us. "Uh… Boys?"
"Are you an author?" I finally blurted out. She shrugged.
"Well, shoah. Or… I was," she added, sober for a moment.
"What happened?" me again.
"Well… I dunno. Ya see, last night I was woikin' on one of me new fics… Then something happened and BAM all my ideas went whoosh. Out da window. It's 'orrible! Not even Blinky heah could give me any ideas," she smiled down at her doll again. Blink (the real one) looked sick. I smirked.
"Well hon, you'se in luck. Me and Blink heah are goin around tryin to help writahs like yourself. You know, get riddah dat writahs block and all."
Spitshine's face absolutely lit up.
"Aw, grand! Uh… Hows ya gonna do that? Is dere some… Potion or something?" I sighed.
"Well, dat's the problem. We dunno how to cure you all. Any ideas?" Spitshine smiled evilly and directed her gaze at Blink, who immediately groaned.
"Race…"
I chuckled. Spitshine surveyed her idol for a little longer, then turned back to me.
"Yeah, I gots an idea. Just, ah… Leave Blink heah wid me for the aftahnoon? Maybe he can help me," she said, spitting in her hand. I spit in my own and shook it.
"You got yerself a deal! Blink, quit yer whining!" I smirked again, tipped my hat and ventured off. "See you in a bit, Blinky-boy!"
+
'Maybe this'll be easier than I thought,' I mused to myself. I had just stopped to look over some flowers when I heard a familiar name shouted out.
"Skittery! Skittery! Skittery! Skittery!" and so forth. Thinking this could be another author, I waved goodbye to the flower seller - I think her name was Yorkie or something - and attempted to follow the source of the noise.
My ears led me to the mouth of an extremely dingy looking alley. The noise had stopped, but I could see a huddled form crouched against a wall, so I strode confidently forward.
"SKITTERIEEEEEEE!" the figure lept up and yelled this name like a war cry. The next events happened to fast for me to follow - all I knew was that a few seconds later I was hopping around with a sore toe and a bloody nose.
"What da HELL was dat fer?" I growled, glaring at my attacker. She stood a few feet in front of me, black hair a mess and green eyes boring into me. Suddenly she relaxed, a confused look on her face. She touched a hand to her head with a frown, then spoke quietly.
"Wha… Huh? What just happened?" she studied me closely. "Hmm. You'se aren't Mickey."
"Uh, no… I'm Racetrack," I said, limping forward. "And you?"
"Derby," she said, shook my hand, then motioned around. "Welcome ta my home."
"It's a noice place," I ventured, trying to think of a way I could steer the conversation towards my goal.
"Yeah, well, it's usually nicer, ya know? Usually I can write in what it looks like. But, ah, I can't even do DAT now! Somethin happened, Race me lad. Somethin 'orrible."
"You'se a writah?" I repeated. "Writah's Block, right?"
"Yeah, how'd ya know?" she looked troubled.
"Ah, well, me and Blink - you know him?" she nodded.
"Of course. I write 'bout you boys all da time!"
"Yeah, see, we'se on a quest to help all of you'se. The writahs."
"I'm not the only one?"
"'ell no! De only thing we're havin' trouble wid… Is the cure."
Her face fell.
"But we did cure one already! Uh… Spitshine was 'er name, I think. A little psychotic?"
"Ah, Shinah! Lovely. Well, maybe then you'se could cure me too," she sat against the wall and pulled out some stained pieces of blank paper and a pen. "Tell meh… What was me boy Skittery doin' dis mornin'?"
"Er…" I hesitated - what was she gonna do, stalk him?
"Come on!"
"Ok, ok… Uh, he woke up…"
"Keep talkin', dammit!"
"Jesus! Calm down goil. 'e woke up… Teased me with dat damn towel," a cackle from Derby, cut short with a glare from me. "It's not funny anymore! Den he tried shut me in the bath stalls, an'…"
"That's it!" she shrieked, tackling me in her glee. "That's it!"
"Ow…"
"Ahahahah! Why didn't I see it bafore?" she sat back on her heels and grinned at me. I gulped.
"See what?"
"You and Skittery belong in a slash together!" I didn't know what she was talking about, but I had heard some of the other Newsies mention it.
"Derbah! Remember dat most of de stuff you write actually happens ta us?!" but Derby ignored me and started writing as fast as she could move her hand.
"Thanks Race, you're a doll. But I'd really like it if ya'd shut up an' let me write?" I grumbled a good bye and limped out of the alley.
I wonder if Spitshine is done with Blink yet?
+
"LOOK OUT!" I instinctively dove out of the street, cursing as I hit my injured toe on a wall. A black horse galloped wildly past, barely hitched to a carriage, on which a tall girl with lots of curly brown hair was riding. She giggled like a maniac as she flew past. About a block down, the horse was pulled to a stop. She jumped off the carriage and was about to enter a building, when I finally decided what to do and yelled at her to stop. She turned around, frowning, then shrugged and trotted over.
"Sorry Race," she explained breathlessly. "I was feeling so frustrated, I just 'ad to go fer a ride ta clear me mind… Then everything got outta control, an' here I am."
"Yeah, yeah, I was gonna introduce meself but I guess ya saved me the trouble," I was still a bit disturbed that all these people knew who I was. Though I guess I should've accepted it by now. "So who'se you?"
"Crunch. Like Crutch, but an 'N' instead of a "T." Like cinnamon toast, the taste you can see."
"Nice rhymin'. So you'se a poet?"
"Naw. Jus' yer run o' da mill writah."
"I see."
"Wid Writah's Block," I nodded wisely and explained my mission.
"So you cured de oddahs?"
"A few - but wid really strange ways," I explained, then paused, remembering Derby. "Say… Whaddah ya say about me n' Skittery in a slash story?"
"Um. No? Why?" she gave me a strange look. Like I was mental, or something.
"Uhhh… Jus wonderin'? Ha… Ha… Hah?"
"Right. So you'se gonna 'cure' meh or not?" I sighed.
"I'm thinkin,' I'm thinkin'!" Longer pause. Crunch started tapping her feet and humming quietly to herself. Without thinking, I joined in, making up words as I went.
"Ah, if only life were a musical," Crunch said with a sigh. Pause. Eyes widening. Smile dawning. "HAH! Life can be a musical!"
"Well, der, you'se da one who writes it."
"I know!" she picked me up and squeezed me, then set me down with an evil grin. "You know Racey, there's an extra, ah… Floor space in my tenement…"
"Ohhh, no! You jus' write dat musical, I have to, uh… Find Blink!" she pouted, then shrugged and started skipping away.
"Oh, and Race!" she called over her shoulder. "You see Skittery - tell him that Crunch wants to she him!" She laughed and disappeared into a dingy building.
I lit a cigar.
+
"He's mine!"
"Don' even start! You do NOT wanna see me angry."
"Hah! Is dat a threat, goil?"
"You betcher ass it is."
"Yeah, well, at least I can write about oddah people den Mush!"
"Dat just shows me undyin' love fer him!"
"I swear, you'se write anuddah romance about 'im, and I'm yankin' it."
"Hehehe."
"What?"
"Yank! You said Yank. AhhhhHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."
I watched this exchange from a safe distance, unseen so far. The first who had spoken, a rather short, freckled girl with streaked brown hair, rolled her eyes and playfully pushed the other aside. Unfortunately, the second girl didn't take it as a joke. Her brown eyes flashed angrily, and soon a scuffle broke out between the two.
"It's always Mush, ain't it?" I muttered as I stepped in to break the fight up. "Ladies, ladies!" Then a stray punch thrown by the second, taller and darker girl, hit my temple and everything with black.
+ + +
"Racetrack, you moron. Falco, I TOLD you we shoulda employed Pie-eatah for this job. He's the only one clever enough to-"
-smack-
"OW! Now, that was totally and completely unne-"
"Will you stop babbling? We only get a few minutes to talk to him. Jesus."
"Yeah, yeah…"
"Uhh… Not you two," I muttered, opening my eyes to see Falco and Keza standing before me. They were glowing again. I must admit it had a cool effect.
"And we love you too," Falco said. "Anyway, we're just dropping in to congratulate you… Nicely done so far! But you still have a lot of terrain to cover, so try not to start any chick fights?" I tried to protest.
"Start??? I didn't start-"
"Yes, yes, we know. Just cure them however you may, and move on."
Keza nodded her agreement.
"Oh, and next time you see Pie, tell him…
"Keza. Let's go."
"But-"
"NO."
-poof-
+
"Oh, now ya've done it, Shortie."
"Shut up. Race, you'se ok?" I groaned and sat up. Now the two girls stood before me, looking worried.
"I's fine, fine… Who ah you goils?"
"I'm Shortie," the… shorter one said.
"And I'm Tuffy," the other added.
"I love Mush," Shortie said quickly, beaming at me.
"Maybe, but I love 'im moah, and-"
"GOILS!" I shouted, staggering up and trying to stop this thing before it started again. "Don worry, I know you'se obsessed wid Mush an' everything, which is kinda scary, but I'll let it pass."
Two sets of eyes glaring now. Whoops.
"Ya know, I think I'se likin' 'im better UNconscious!" Tuffy remarked, though the edge on her voice could not be confused with sarcasm. Definitely not. I backed up slowly.
"Uh… Goils? Don' hurt me, I'm heah to help ya."
"You know where to find Mush?"
"Um. Don't you'se have Writah's Block?"
"Oh, that," Shortie waved her hand dismissively. "Minor detail. We can't find Mush ANYWHERE, don't ya understand? Now, DAT'S major."
"Well, 'ow did ya used ta find Mush?"
"Oh, we'd write 'em in somewhere," Tuffy speaking now. She smiled innocently. Shortie glared. I figured there must be a major feud between them - about Mush - and decided not to pursue it.
"Splendid. But I need ta know what I'se can do ta help you ladies git rid of yer Writah's Block. Possibly not involvin' Mush? I dunno where 'e is."
"I'm dry."
"Me too."
I sighed. This wasn't going to get us anywhere… Unless…
"Say, you goils ever thought about woikin' togeddah on a story?" Simotaneious protests.
"No, no, really! You'se both got dis t'ing wid Mush, right? And I'm shoah cooperating every once in awhile would hoit eithah."
"Well," Shortie began hesitantly. "I guess we could try it…" she looked at Tuffy for approval. Tuffy just shrugged.
"Shoah, why not? But it still don't solve our Writer's… 'ey! I jus' got an idea! An honest idea!"
"Well dat's a first, considerin' all you'se ideas before have been stolen from-"
"Goils…"
"Er… Sorry Tuffs. 'ey, can I call ya Tuffs? Listen, les' get ta woik!"
And so they ran off. I tipped my hat to their backs, sucked on my cigar for a moment, then set off to meet up with Blink.
+
"So, it woiked?"
"Oh, it definitely worked! She's burstin' wid ideas now. An' hey, ya know, she can do the coolest t'ing wid 'er tongue…"
"Yeah, you'se already told me. 'Spitshine can make 'er tongue into a bunny's head! Spitshine shined my shoes! Spitshine this! Spitshine that!" I rolled my eyes. Having not met up with any of my admirers so far, (in theory, I should have some) I was getting a bit cranky. Blink pouted.
"She was cool, ok? Jeez. Rain on my parade. I mean, I cured her after all."
"And I thank you'se for it. Now, it's gettin' late and we still gotta lot of Manhattan to covah! Let's go!"
+
Thus ends, chapter two. Read, enjoy… And review!
HAH! Take THOSE mad poetry skills!
Next Chapter: The duo is back together, and the world may pay the price! Haha - but really… Race and Blink hurry to finish 'curing' Manhattan before the dreaded… CURFEW!
To the Featured Authors of Chapter Two: Which included, if you're keeping track… Spitshine, Derby, Crunch, Tuffy, and Shortie.
Spitshine- You'll have to teach me that bunny-head trick. Hehehe.
Derby- Race and Skittery is an extremely odd slash pairing, keep in mind I wrote this all pretty quickly, so sorry if that was awkward! Especially if you don't write slash, which I don't think you do… But I could be wrong. Hoh boy. -_^
Crunch- Turning life into a musical. -sigh- it's one of my greatest ambitions.
Shortie/Tuffy- Hope you guys didn't mind being paired up! It was rather fun to write your dialogue, but if you strongly disagree with anything I wrote about you, please tell me in e-mail/review. Same goes for anyone else… Since I don't know most of you very well, deepest apologies if I offend you or anything - just tell me, and I'll fix it reeeal quick!
Also- I wrote most of this tonight, any gaping plot holes/mistakes… Sorry! Ark.
Until next time…
-Keza