HEYA!!!
Thanks again for all the reviews!!! They are always appreciated!!!
Gypsy Ruth: THANKS!!! I keep thinking that I am the only one that sees these guys this way. Nice to know I'm not!
Gretch: AHH!!! GRETCHSTER!!! Of course you got a shout out, ya dork. I love ya! I rock? Yeah, I know…I mean…THANKS!!!! Reviews getting annoying??? NEVER!!!
Celtic Lass: No problem! Sometimes we need to be reminded that life was harsh…and we didn't dance in the streets on command. Oh well…its still fun to watch!! Oh, and thanks for the compliments!!! I REALLY appreciate them! As well as you taking time out to read my stories!!!
Skinflint: THANKS FOR YOUR REVIEW!!! Your story was great!! I love reading morbid, disturbing stories. Those romances get old after a while.
Spatz: THANKS!! (alright, all these thank yous are bound to annoy someone) Don't worry, there will be plenty more!!!
and all the others who read it!!! THANKS!!! HERE IT IS!!!
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Disease thrived in his life. That was probably why he avoided Snoddy
for the first few weeks. I don't blame him. With what he had
experienced, you can't help but understand his fear. Every time one
of the other boys became ill, Specs would kind of evade them,
sleeping in the farthest bunk and spending his time alone on the
roof. At first, the others believed him to be cold and distant by
nature. They didn't know the pain he had experienced so early in
life.
His mother died in childbirth with Specs. The frail Russian woman
couldn't handle it, and shortly after naming her child, she was sent
up with the angels. Misha, she called him, and I laugh to myself
whenever I think of the meaning. She must have known what he was
going to be like, otherwise she wouldn't have given him a name
meaning "rebellious". Mothers must have an innate sense of how
their children`s minds work and personalities are. How else would
she have known how well it suited him?
Specs often told me his father was the epitome of an Irishman. He
sang songs at the top of his lungs, played any instrument he could
get his hands on, and told all kinds of stories from off the top of
his head. It was only a matter of time before he was to marry again.
This time, to a compassionate French woman, who gave him nine
wonderful years and two daughters. They may not have been wealthy,
but they were certainly better off than other New York families, and
were very lucky to have each other.
As it often does, their luck ran out. Misha witnessed his good
fortune deteriorate as the blood trickled down his step-mother's
chin as she coughed deeply. They first thought it was a cold. That
idea was thrown out when she passed on a few months later from
Tuberculosis. Misha's father didn't have much time to grieve her
passing; he died four months later from Pneumonia. The harsh New
York winter has that effect on some people.
He was always a smart ass. There is no question there. He based all
his responses on the idea of "you ask a dumb question you get a dumb
answer". As witty and amusing as it was to us in the lodging house,
it had the opposite effect on the people running the orphanage. He
said something remotely sarcastic, and he would be thrown to the
wall with a blow from the man running the place. One thing that got
me about Specs was he never knew when to keep that bog mouth of his
shut, and every time that man would say or do anything to him, Specs
always came back at him with a sardonic remark. Needless to say, he
didn't do too well over there.
I saw him peek into the doorway, asking if he was able to stay and
under what conditions would allow him to do so. I told him what was
required of him, and how much rent was, and he stayed with us from
that night on. The other boys made him a bit nervous, as they hacked
and coughed openly when they had a cold and whatnot, it took Specs a
while to open up to them…and realize that they weren't trying to
kill him.
He was always a roof walker, that never changed. It seemed only
fitting that it be the last bit of the lodging house that he ever
saw. He climbed out onto the roof, we chatted a bit about what else
was out there besides papes and deadlines, and with his small bag of
belongings he descended the fire escape and out into the world
below.
He stayed in Manhattan, which was rare for a lot of them. He even
opened a book store down near where he was born. I went in there one
day to purchase one of Skittery's books, and he smiled, telling me
it was a good choice and he had already read it three times. This
was not a surprise, he was always a supportive and loyal friend. He
still works there, and I see him quite often. If you are ever in
Manhattan and decide you need a new book, feel free to stop into
Specs's Specs and look around. Be careful, though. There is one
thing that will never change, and that's his smart ass mouth.
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There is the chapter for my Sexy Specsy! Thats right...thats what I
call him. Okay..again, everyone say it with me, hope you liked it
and reviews are welcome. GOOD!! YOU ALL GET COOKIES!!
Stretch