You think you know- by Crunch
Misprint - Ah, really? You like the Ali line? Oh, I s'pose it was rather genius of me (yeah. Right. Get over yourself, crunch) No no, strange is good. Strangeness is our friend. Fight club? Hmm, is that the one where Brad Pitt plays a hot, mumbling, boxing gypsy, everyone has an English accent, and there's a mafia guy who feeds people to pigs? Cause if it is, then yes, I've seen it. And the R&J with Leonardo? No, I haven't, because I too have a strict abhorrence to all things Leo, but everyone tells me that Star-crossed lovers is a lot like it, so I should look into that. . . Really? You like my writing? OH. . . oh. . . *squeals and throws a golden Racetrack into Misprint's waiting hands* hee hee, Apot and DF? No, don't worry, you didn't forget an inside joke. . . Apot is my mis-spellsion (that's like updation) of Spot, and DF is my lazy way of writing Doll Face. Cause, obviously, 8 letters is harder to type then 2. Sense? SENSE? *throws dictionary as predicted, misses, hit's Spot-muse in the head, long story short ends up with a black eye. . .*
Falco- Oh, Falco, you're review is wonderfully appreciated, hilarious and abstract, as usual. Really? You like? SPLENdid. Yes, yes, It's all going according to plan. . . *taps fingertips much in the style of Mr. Burns* Yeah, Spot's a tough one to write, so I try my best. . . Oh, I do feel bad for Doll Face. That poor kiddo, jeesh, I gotta throw her a bone one of these days. Yeah! I second that whole "she's not a whore" thing! Cliffhanger? Oh, yes, "The one person he could still trust". Well, the master of subtlety I aint. Thanks so much for the review, luffle you much!
Doll Face- DOOLLLLFAAACE! Really? You like? Delightful! Hehe, Crunchy- kins, ey? That's a new one. Why, oh why, do I have such an easily manipulated screen name? Ah, I jest of course, I will where the name Crunchy-kins with pride! So you're for the Doll Face and Spot thing, huh? Well, good, then this is your chapter. And, as always, I apologize profusely for mangling and defiling your character with my petty words! Or, if you like the story, then, um, here's to you. And One Sweet Day? Put it back!!!. Toodles!
Ali- Oh! Ali! *charges the paddles just in case Ali goes in to cardiac arrest* Can't have my best little Bilingual reviewer dieing on my account! Heh heh, no need to thank me, that look on your, er, review is enough. Yes, Manca is quite a catch, you lucky femme, you, so treat him well. *wink wink nudge nudge* Oh, don't worry, their friendship isn't over yet. Ah yes. The infamous "she". Boy, je ne suis pas un master of cliffhangers. Oh good, you like the romance? Well, read on my friend, read on. . . Je t'adore aussi, as usual! (oh, about leadership? I read- I sat in awe. It was BEAUTIOUS! Write another! Write ANOTHER!)
Shortie- Ya know, this is going to sound really weird. But I wish I didn't luffle all my reviewers so much, you know? Cause, then I wouldn't have to prattle on and on in these epic- shoutouts, cause I wouldn't want to talk to you. But since I do. . . did that make any sence? Oh, well. Oh, Crunchy Bunchy, that's a new one! I just got this mental picture of those Brady Bunch squares, but they all have ME in them! Ah, so this is what fame looks like. Eh, don't worry about Manca, he's a tough cookie, and don't worry about the review, it was coherent in it's own way. Now go update the CHW story! Shoo!
Raeghann- Yes, a while it has been. Thanks for sticking with it, I saLUTE you! Thanks for the ego-inflation! Heh heh, sooner . . . * Crunch's giggles fade as she realizes Raeghann means it* Here ya go!
Sparker- Oh Lordy!! *squeals in reverence* It is she who wrote Angie! I sit in awe! You like? My hero likes my story? Thanks So Muchly! Hey, just for you, I'll try to plug Jack and Race in there, eh? They deserve a cameo, those Manhattan stallions! Thanks again, now go update!
Vioshine- Gawd, you are so brilliant! Jeeze, you always know exactly what I want my characters to be like, even when I don't express it so well in words. Usually you know them better than I do, but that's a horse of a different color. . . Oh, would it make you feel better if I mended that nasty ol' breach? Well, feel better, that's where I'm headed. Oh gosh, I've just spilled the beans, haven't I? Ignore that man behind the curtain, you'll just have to wait and see! Thanks much for the advice! Yes, I do tend to get overdramatic in my writing sometimes, I'm just a lover, not a hater. Except, sometimes I get over angsty, so. . . any whoo, I'll try hard to keep the relationship in check. I doubt Spot will be falling head over heels any time soon, but we'll cross that bridge some other time. Well, sorry for the late updation, and I commiserate on the sister issue. Believe me. :
Sapphyremoon- Glad you like! Dunno if you're reading this, since your on fanpress now, but I love your stories, and thusly, I am truly honored! Moi? To your favorites? Eek! I am unworthy! Thanks, I will! Alright, I'll let you update now, ignore my meaningless drivel and go write me a masterpiece!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Boys Lodging House wasn't exactly the picture of High living, God knows. But there was no way around it; Doll Face lived in the slums, even by Brooklyn standards. Though no stranger to the streets, Spot tugged his collar a bit higher and clutched his cane a bit closer as he hustled down the unswept lanes with less swagger then usual. Boxed in on all sides by evil smelling hovels where the poor were tumbled together, surrounded by smatterings of Yiddish, Polish, German, not to mention the screams and cries that echoed from the festering alleyways, the Brooklyn leader quickened his pace.
The fire escape was so icy cold, it burned the flesh of his callused palm as he hauled himself up the back stairs. He barely noticed, as his whole body was icy cold by then. One foot after the other, he climbed, his heart and his body crying out for Doll Face and all the things she could do to him the entire way.
At the top of the cast iron staircase, he tapped a fist against the first chipped and puckered pane to the left, careful not to call on the wrong window. That would've summoned Doll Face's haggard parents, or at the very least one of her eight raucous brothers and sisters, and Spot had never been good with family.
Luckily, it was his girlfriend that came to window of her shared bedroom, her blonde hair swept into ragged bun and a laundry basket on her hip.
"Spot, what in da woild are you doin here? It's almos' Eleven thoity. . ." she trailed off as Spot stuck his head inside the room and pressed his lips to hers, hungry for comfort and escape. She didn't protest- not that she ever did, just jiggled the window open enough for him to slide through, their mouths still locked to each other. After a few stumbles and near accidents among the baskets of laundry heaped on her floor, they found their way to the bed, where Doll Face tore herself away for the first time.
"Slow down, Spot. What are you doin heah? And why are you cryin'?"
"I aint crying!" He sobbed and lurched forwards again, only to have his girlfriend dodge to the side, her blueberry eyes narrowed with concern.
"Ok den, you aint cryin. So what's da mattah?"
"Nothin's the mattah. Now quit talkin'. You're wreckin' da mood." He pressed forwards until their lips met, and this time, she didn't resist.
~*~
"Spot?"
"Yeah?" He shifted beneath the ragged bed sheets, but didn't turn to face her- just stared at the peeling, whitewashed wall. Doll Face shivered and hugged the blankets closer around her slender form.
"Remember the other day, when you said you didn't want it anymore?"
"Yeah." He mumbled into the pillow.
"What? What don't you want?"
After a moment of awkward silence, Spot peeled himself from the bed, shrugged into his pants and clutched for his shirt, still fumbling with the straps of his suspenders. "I told you nevah mind."
"No, no you didn't. You was gonna say somethin' until the udder boys came in. I could tell." He sighed and dropped to the edge of the bed like a winded carthorse, his shoulders stooped, and the tear tracks still glistening through the ever present street grime on his face. Spot's voice barely drifted above a mumble as he studied his fingertips intently.
"It's just. . . This. I don't want any of it. I don't wanna be da leader. I don't wanna have ta have all da answers. I don't wanna be da guy dat hurts me bruddas cause dey looked at me wrong. . . I don't wanna hurt people.
"What makes you t'ink you have to?"
"What'd ya mean?"
She shrugged. "I mean, you can do anyt'ing. Dat's what's so amazing about youse, Spot. You could be anyt'ing you wanted. An' someday, you'll be great." Though his lithe back stiffened under her praise, he didn't speak, so she hugged herself closer and plowed onward. "You know, I aint stupid, Spot. I know ya don't love me, ya nevah have."
Spot's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't protest. Again, Doll Face spoke. "So all dis time, I been trying ta figure out why a goil as smart as me would stick around wid a guy who don't care fah her like she cares fah him. You know why dat is, Spot?"
He turned back to fumbling with the silver clasps of his suspenders, though his fingers were shaking so badly, he didn't have a prayer.
"It's cause I figure dere's somethin' about you woith waiting for. It's cause you're a good guy, Spot. You're a good man. And I believe in ya, and I do love ya. An' dat's why I been waitin'. Cause I happen ta think dat no mattah how long it takes, you're woith it."
A smile creeping upon his lips, Spot pivoted on the bed linens to face his girlfriend, and reached out with one trembling hand for hers as he spoke without the signature gruffness. "Maybe. . . maybe you won' have ta wait dat long, ey?" With that, he smiled and leaned in towards Doll Face, resting his head on the pillow besides hers.
"I messed up real bad, though. Real bad. Manca an' me. . . I dunno what ta do. . ."
"Shh, don' worry, Spot." She edged her tiny hand towards his muscled one, entwining her fingers through his. "Whatever it is, we'll deal. We can deal tagethah."
"Nah, dis is my mess. I made it, an' I can fix it."
"How?"
Suddenly Spot's eyes seemed to sparkle, as his impish features hardened and his back stiffened with resolve. This was the Spot Conlon she knew, the Spot Conlon she loved. Spot was back.
"Well, we can't fight da Bronx. . . Manca proved dat. An' I aint much for fightin' dese days anyhow. Nah, we can't fight em. We gotta beat em."
Yes, Spot Conlon was most certainly back.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
SOOOOOOOOO hopefully it didn't give you too many migranes or cavities. A short update, I know, but we're getting ther, don't you worry. And, as ever, give me an R! Give me an E! Give me a VIEW! What does that spell? WELL?
Misprint - Ah, really? You like the Ali line? Oh, I s'pose it was rather genius of me (yeah. Right. Get over yourself, crunch) No no, strange is good. Strangeness is our friend. Fight club? Hmm, is that the one where Brad Pitt plays a hot, mumbling, boxing gypsy, everyone has an English accent, and there's a mafia guy who feeds people to pigs? Cause if it is, then yes, I've seen it. And the R&J with Leonardo? No, I haven't, because I too have a strict abhorrence to all things Leo, but everyone tells me that Star-crossed lovers is a lot like it, so I should look into that. . . Really? You like my writing? OH. . . oh. . . *squeals and throws a golden Racetrack into Misprint's waiting hands* hee hee, Apot and DF? No, don't worry, you didn't forget an inside joke. . . Apot is my mis-spellsion (that's like updation) of Spot, and DF is my lazy way of writing Doll Face. Cause, obviously, 8 letters is harder to type then 2. Sense? SENSE? *throws dictionary as predicted, misses, hit's Spot-muse in the head, long story short ends up with a black eye. . .*
Falco- Oh, Falco, you're review is wonderfully appreciated, hilarious and abstract, as usual. Really? You like? SPLENdid. Yes, yes, It's all going according to plan. . . *taps fingertips much in the style of Mr. Burns* Yeah, Spot's a tough one to write, so I try my best. . . Oh, I do feel bad for Doll Face. That poor kiddo, jeesh, I gotta throw her a bone one of these days. Yeah! I second that whole "she's not a whore" thing! Cliffhanger? Oh, yes, "The one person he could still trust". Well, the master of subtlety I aint. Thanks so much for the review, luffle you much!
Doll Face- DOOLLLLFAAACE! Really? You like? Delightful! Hehe, Crunchy- kins, ey? That's a new one. Why, oh why, do I have such an easily manipulated screen name? Ah, I jest of course, I will where the name Crunchy-kins with pride! So you're for the Doll Face and Spot thing, huh? Well, good, then this is your chapter. And, as always, I apologize profusely for mangling and defiling your character with my petty words! Or, if you like the story, then, um, here's to you. And One Sweet Day? Put it back!!!. Toodles!
Ali- Oh! Ali! *charges the paddles just in case Ali goes in to cardiac arrest* Can't have my best little Bilingual reviewer dieing on my account! Heh heh, no need to thank me, that look on your, er, review is enough. Yes, Manca is quite a catch, you lucky femme, you, so treat him well. *wink wink nudge nudge* Oh, don't worry, their friendship isn't over yet. Ah yes. The infamous "she". Boy, je ne suis pas un master of cliffhangers. Oh good, you like the romance? Well, read on my friend, read on. . . Je t'adore aussi, as usual! (oh, about leadership? I read- I sat in awe. It was BEAUTIOUS! Write another! Write ANOTHER!)
Shortie- Ya know, this is going to sound really weird. But I wish I didn't luffle all my reviewers so much, you know? Cause, then I wouldn't have to prattle on and on in these epic- shoutouts, cause I wouldn't want to talk to you. But since I do. . . did that make any sence? Oh, well. Oh, Crunchy Bunchy, that's a new one! I just got this mental picture of those Brady Bunch squares, but they all have ME in them! Ah, so this is what fame looks like. Eh, don't worry about Manca, he's a tough cookie, and don't worry about the review, it was coherent in it's own way. Now go update the CHW story! Shoo!
Raeghann- Yes, a while it has been. Thanks for sticking with it, I saLUTE you! Thanks for the ego-inflation! Heh heh, sooner . . . * Crunch's giggles fade as she realizes Raeghann means it* Here ya go!
Sparker- Oh Lordy!! *squeals in reverence* It is she who wrote Angie! I sit in awe! You like? My hero likes my story? Thanks So Muchly! Hey, just for you, I'll try to plug Jack and Race in there, eh? They deserve a cameo, those Manhattan stallions! Thanks again, now go update!
Vioshine- Gawd, you are so brilliant! Jeeze, you always know exactly what I want my characters to be like, even when I don't express it so well in words. Usually you know them better than I do, but that's a horse of a different color. . . Oh, would it make you feel better if I mended that nasty ol' breach? Well, feel better, that's where I'm headed. Oh gosh, I've just spilled the beans, haven't I? Ignore that man behind the curtain, you'll just have to wait and see! Thanks much for the advice! Yes, I do tend to get overdramatic in my writing sometimes, I'm just a lover, not a hater. Except, sometimes I get over angsty, so. . . any whoo, I'll try hard to keep the relationship in check. I doubt Spot will be falling head over heels any time soon, but we'll cross that bridge some other time. Well, sorry for the late updation, and I commiserate on the sister issue. Believe me. :
Sapphyremoon- Glad you like! Dunno if you're reading this, since your on fanpress now, but I love your stories, and thusly, I am truly honored! Moi? To your favorites? Eek! I am unworthy! Thanks, I will! Alright, I'll let you update now, ignore my meaningless drivel and go write me a masterpiece!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Boys Lodging House wasn't exactly the picture of High living, God knows. But there was no way around it; Doll Face lived in the slums, even by Brooklyn standards. Though no stranger to the streets, Spot tugged his collar a bit higher and clutched his cane a bit closer as he hustled down the unswept lanes with less swagger then usual. Boxed in on all sides by evil smelling hovels where the poor were tumbled together, surrounded by smatterings of Yiddish, Polish, German, not to mention the screams and cries that echoed from the festering alleyways, the Brooklyn leader quickened his pace.
The fire escape was so icy cold, it burned the flesh of his callused palm as he hauled himself up the back stairs. He barely noticed, as his whole body was icy cold by then. One foot after the other, he climbed, his heart and his body crying out for Doll Face and all the things she could do to him the entire way.
At the top of the cast iron staircase, he tapped a fist against the first chipped and puckered pane to the left, careful not to call on the wrong window. That would've summoned Doll Face's haggard parents, or at the very least one of her eight raucous brothers and sisters, and Spot had never been good with family.
Luckily, it was his girlfriend that came to window of her shared bedroom, her blonde hair swept into ragged bun and a laundry basket on her hip.
"Spot, what in da woild are you doin here? It's almos' Eleven thoity. . ." she trailed off as Spot stuck his head inside the room and pressed his lips to hers, hungry for comfort and escape. She didn't protest- not that she ever did, just jiggled the window open enough for him to slide through, their mouths still locked to each other. After a few stumbles and near accidents among the baskets of laundry heaped on her floor, they found their way to the bed, where Doll Face tore herself away for the first time.
"Slow down, Spot. What are you doin heah? And why are you cryin'?"
"I aint crying!" He sobbed and lurched forwards again, only to have his girlfriend dodge to the side, her blueberry eyes narrowed with concern.
"Ok den, you aint cryin. So what's da mattah?"
"Nothin's the mattah. Now quit talkin'. You're wreckin' da mood." He pressed forwards until their lips met, and this time, she didn't resist.
~*~
"Spot?"
"Yeah?" He shifted beneath the ragged bed sheets, but didn't turn to face her- just stared at the peeling, whitewashed wall. Doll Face shivered and hugged the blankets closer around her slender form.
"Remember the other day, when you said you didn't want it anymore?"
"Yeah." He mumbled into the pillow.
"What? What don't you want?"
After a moment of awkward silence, Spot peeled himself from the bed, shrugged into his pants and clutched for his shirt, still fumbling with the straps of his suspenders. "I told you nevah mind."
"No, no you didn't. You was gonna say somethin' until the udder boys came in. I could tell." He sighed and dropped to the edge of the bed like a winded carthorse, his shoulders stooped, and the tear tracks still glistening through the ever present street grime on his face. Spot's voice barely drifted above a mumble as he studied his fingertips intently.
"It's just. . . This. I don't want any of it. I don't wanna be da leader. I don't wanna have ta have all da answers. I don't wanna be da guy dat hurts me bruddas cause dey looked at me wrong. . . I don't wanna hurt people.
"What makes you t'ink you have to?"
"What'd ya mean?"
She shrugged. "I mean, you can do anyt'ing. Dat's what's so amazing about youse, Spot. You could be anyt'ing you wanted. An' someday, you'll be great." Though his lithe back stiffened under her praise, he didn't speak, so she hugged herself closer and plowed onward. "You know, I aint stupid, Spot. I know ya don't love me, ya nevah have."
Spot's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't protest. Again, Doll Face spoke. "So all dis time, I been trying ta figure out why a goil as smart as me would stick around wid a guy who don't care fah her like she cares fah him. You know why dat is, Spot?"
He turned back to fumbling with the silver clasps of his suspenders, though his fingers were shaking so badly, he didn't have a prayer.
"It's cause I figure dere's somethin' about you woith waiting for. It's cause you're a good guy, Spot. You're a good man. And I believe in ya, and I do love ya. An' dat's why I been waitin'. Cause I happen ta think dat no mattah how long it takes, you're woith it."
A smile creeping upon his lips, Spot pivoted on the bed linens to face his girlfriend, and reached out with one trembling hand for hers as he spoke without the signature gruffness. "Maybe. . . maybe you won' have ta wait dat long, ey?" With that, he smiled and leaned in towards Doll Face, resting his head on the pillow besides hers.
"I messed up real bad, though. Real bad. Manca an' me. . . I dunno what ta do. . ."
"Shh, don' worry, Spot." She edged her tiny hand towards his muscled one, entwining her fingers through his. "Whatever it is, we'll deal. We can deal tagethah."
"Nah, dis is my mess. I made it, an' I can fix it."
"How?"
Suddenly Spot's eyes seemed to sparkle, as his impish features hardened and his back stiffened with resolve. This was the Spot Conlon she knew, the Spot Conlon she loved. Spot was back.
"Well, we can't fight da Bronx. . . Manca proved dat. An' I aint much for fightin' dese days anyhow. Nah, we can't fight em. We gotta beat em."
Yes, Spot Conlon was most certainly back.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
SOOOOOOOOO hopefully it didn't give you too many migranes or cavities. A short update, I know, but we're getting ther, don't you worry. And, as ever, give me an R! Give me an E! Give me a VIEW! What does that spell? WELL?