1. Racetrack
If Kloppmans reading this to all of you, then I'm dead. I wish I weren't, but I am. Tough beans to me. Anyway, the following is a list of what I want done after I die.
First off, I want someone to shut down that crappy little Strip-Joint that's next door to Sheepsheads. The air stinks, the beer is stale, and the girls, they ain't even pretty. But, if you can't get that done.
First, I want to be burned-crematorialized or whatever the word is. Burned. Not buried, burned. I don't want any creepy bugs coming and eating me after I'm dead. That is, in a word, icky.
Anyway, I want to be wearing my best suit, but no tie. I want my bicycle cards in my left pocket and my dice in right-not the other way around.
I want my ashes to be split up by 20ths. A portion for all of the Newsies- do with them as you please, just don't flush my remnants down the loo-a portion for Kloppman, a portion to be given to my Aunt, Amelia Higgins(find her, she was living on the South Side last time I heard) and a portion to be spread somewhere y'all deem appropriate. At the racetrack, on along my selling route, on Pulitzers head, whatever-just somewhere where I won't go to waste.
At my funeral-no eulogies or whatever they called. Tell everyone I liked to gamble, it's sad that I died, then go home. And no tears. If I were watching, I'd find it damn embarrassing to see everyone bawling their eyes out over me. I want y'all to laugh at my funeral, understand? No tears. Go home and cry, but only if you feel you must.
And now, for the part you've all been waiting for-who gets all the junk I left behind. Fun stuff.
~NOTE: If my death was murder/manslaughter, and one of you is responsible, not only shall I come back to haunt you, but you also don't get your inheritance. Comprende? Lovely. ~
Kloppman-There is $7.50 in my pillow. I owe you $3.25 for the million and a half times you let me sleep here without rent, and the rest I want you to use to pay for the other guys if they ever forget their rent. Good deal, no?
Crutchy- Ehem.if I'm dead, there's no harm in letting you have my diaries (in life, you bugged me about them enough.just please.don't burn them if something, uhm, 'upsets' you too badly.Please?). Yeah. Oh, and also, you can have everything in that place where we hid that thing that time {1}, okay?
Jack- Not only am I leaving you my Buffalo Bill Cody pocket-novels, but also the responsibility of keeping the Friday Night Poker/Etc. Racket going. You know the rules. And don't let Spot cheat!! This is vital!!
David-Oh god.What to leave the walking mouth.Jesus, tough question. Uhmm.Take whatever you want that I haven't left to someone else, okay? Okay, moving on.
Snitch-My pocket watch, the buttons on my vest, the can of shoe-shine under my bed, and what ever other shiny items I happen to have on my person-you try to take them often enough, so I might as well leave them to you.Feel free to add them to your ever increasing collection.
Kid Blink-Her name is Marilyn. She works at Irving Hall as a costumer. About 17, tall, curvy, Strawberry curls and gigantic baby-blues. Royal smartass, very funny, and I would call her intelligent except for she's smitten with you. Enjoy.
Mush-Okay. I've gotta ask. Girls are constantly fawning all over you, and yet you never ever seem to clean beyond the basic soap-and-water scrub down. I leave you a brush, comb, nail file, and a pair of long handled scissors. Use them wisely.
Dutchy-You, my frighteningly ditzy friend, get my harmonica. Learn to play it. It ought to add to your over-all aura of weirdness, don'tcha think?
Specs-I found this book behind one of the missions, and I think you might be the only one who will profit by it. I have no clue what it's about-its all in Spanish-but it has some incredibly cool (and very detailed) pictures. Translate and read to anyone who will listen.
Itey-The selling route you and Snitch share, quite frankly, it sucks. I mean, seriously, how many times have the rest of us had to pay your rent? Take my old route.
Skittery-I have known you for a very long time, and I think I know better then anyone how 'glum and dumb' you can get. But I've learned one thing- sugar makes you very happy. Here's a tin of fudge. This more for the others benefit then for yours.
Spot-Never con and Conolon {2}, you said. Well, for years, I have been doing just that. For your eyes alone, I present to you-King Spot Of Brooklyn-the old orange-crate of wonders, filled with various tricks and do- hickeys belonging to the greatest(and now deceased) conman of the Newsboy variety.
Pie-Eater- Did I ever tell you I have credit at Tibbys? From now on, you can buy Race Memorial Pie. How fun will that be, huh?
Swifty-Common sense. Honor. Guts. Speed. Everything you need to take over my numbers racket. Put those legs to good use-run away from all the Bookies you (or, I) cheated! Heh.
Bumblits-First off, I want you to help Specie translate that book I left him. Secondly, I want you to play with the little guys. Little guys like playing stickball. Lucky you have your very own ball and bat, now, ain't it?
Boots-I'm sorry, buddy, but you are in desperate need of a new wardrobe. Take mine. It ought to fit you.And if it doesn't ask Kloppman to alter a few things and you'll be fine.
Les-Remember the freakishly large amount marbles and pennies I've won from you? They're yours again. I suggest you start by playing Skittery-he lost more then you did.
Snipeshooter-You know you want 'em. You've always wanted 'em. And now they are yours. Ask Kloppman to get my Havanas' out of the strong-box for you. Maybe if you have your own you won't feel inclined to steal other peoples!
Other stuff I own that you can decide amongst yourselves on what to do with it:
~The remaining amount of moolah I've got-you'll find most of it in that biscuit tin under my bed, the one I never let anyone touch.
~The rest of what's in that biscuit tin: pictures, article clippings, letters, my birth certificate (and y'all wondered how an orphan knows his birthday.), a few addresses for interesting people
~My betting stubs. Some wins, some losses, collect them all and do with as you please.
~
In closing, I just want to say.I really love you guys. (I know what you are going to say, Kid, Dutchy-NOT IN THAT WAY!! Wipe those lewd smirks off your faces right now, geeze.) Now that I'm dead, guess its okay for you to know that. And.hopefully, you guys love me. (Kid, Dutchy, I'm warning you.)
Remember to miss me. I'll sure miss you.
Goodbye. Racetrack
~!~!~!~!~ {1} HACKERS rules. Seriously. {2} this is someone else's line. I forget whose. Feel free to claim it in a review.
Whoa.this chapter.It really was awful. Ah well. I'm writing Duchy's right now. It ought to be sooo much better.
To everyone who has already reviewed-I'm very flattered. Sort of.
The Omniscient Bookseller-*gasp* I.I wrote story that shows promise!! YAY!!
Klover- He's not nosey! Well, sorta, I mean.Okay, fine he is nosey! Meh!
Sweet Anne-Here's more. Enjoy. Review. Same thing.
Lady Elwen-I'll remember to change that once I edit it Seraph-And that.
Chicago-I think you are my one faithful reviewer.And I hope this turns out to be cute. I hope.
If Kloppmans reading this to all of you, then I'm dead. I wish I weren't, but I am. Tough beans to me. Anyway, the following is a list of what I want done after I die.
First off, I want someone to shut down that crappy little Strip-Joint that's next door to Sheepsheads. The air stinks, the beer is stale, and the girls, they ain't even pretty. But, if you can't get that done.
First, I want to be burned-crematorialized or whatever the word is. Burned. Not buried, burned. I don't want any creepy bugs coming and eating me after I'm dead. That is, in a word, icky.
Anyway, I want to be wearing my best suit, but no tie. I want my bicycle cards in my left pocket and my dice in right-not the other way around.
I want my ashes to be split up by 20ths. A portion for all of the Newsies- do with them as you please, just don't flush my remnants down the loo-a portion for Kloppman, a portion to be given to my Aunt, Amelia Higgins(find her, she was living on the South Side last time I heard) and a portion to be spread somewhere y'all deem appropriate. At the racetrack, on along my selling route, on Pulitzers head, whatever-just somewhere where I won't go to waste.
At my funeral-no eulogies or whatever they called. Tell everyone I liked to gamble, it's sad that I died, then go home. And no tears. If I were watching, I'd find it damn embarrassing to see everyone bawling their eyes out over me. I want y'all to laugh at my funeral, understand? No tears. Go home and cry, but only if you feel you must.
And now, for the part you've all been waiting for-who gets all the junk I left behind. Fun stuff.
~NOTE: If my death was murder/manslaughter, and one of you is responsible, not only shall I come back to haunt you, but you also don't get your inheritance. Comprende? Lovely. ~
Kloppman-There is $7.50 in my pillow. I owe you $3.25 for the million and a half times you let me sleep here without rent, and the rest I want you to use to pay for the other guys if they ever forget their rent. Good deal, no?
Crutchy- Ehem.if I'm dead, there's no harm in letting you have my diaries (in life, you bugged me about them enough.just please.don't burn them if something, uhm, 'upsets' you too badly.Please?). Yeah. Oh, and also, you can have everything in that place where we hid that thing that time {1}, okay?
Jack- Not only am I leaving you my Buffalo Bill Cody pocket-novels, but also the responsibility of keeping the Friday Night Poker/Etc. Racket going. You know the rules. And don't let Spot cheat!! This is vital!!
David-Oh god.What to leave the walking mouth.Jesus, tough question. Uhmm.Take whatever you want that I haven't left to someone else, okay? Okay, moving on.
Snitch-My pocket watch, the buttons on my vest, the can of shoe-shine under my bed, and what ever other shiny items I happen to have on my person-you try to take them often enough, so I might as well leave them to you.Feel free to add them to your ever increasing collection.
Kid Blink-Her name is Marilyn. She works at Irving Hall as a costumer. About 17, tall, curvy, Strawberry curls and gigantic baby-blues. Royal smartass, very funny, and I would call her intelligent except for she's smitten with you. Enjoy.
Mush-Okay. I've gotta ask. Girls are constantly fawning all over you, and yet you never ever seem to clean beyond the basic soap-and-water scrub down. I leave you a brush, comb, nail file, and a pair of long handled scissors. Use them wisely.
Dutchy-You, my frighteningly ditzy friend, get my harmonica. Learn to play it. It ought to add to your over-all aura of weirdness, don'tcha think?
Specs-I found this book behind one of the missions, and I think you might be the only one who will profit by it. I have no clue what it's about-its all in Spanish-but it has some incredibly cool (and very detailed) pictures. Translate and read to anyone who will listen.
Itey-The selling route you and Snitch share, quite frankly, it sucks. I mean, seriously, how many times have the rest of us had to pay your rent? Take my old route.
Skittery-I have known you for a very long time, and I think I know better then anyone how 'glum and dumb' you can get. But I've learned one thing- sugar makes you very happy. Here's a tin of fudge. This more for the others benefit then for yours.
Spot-Never con and Conolon {2}, you said. Well, for years, I have been doing just that. For your eyes alone, I present to you-King Spot Of Brooklyn-the old orange-crate of wonders, filled with various tricks and do- hickeys belonging to the greatest(and now deceased) conman of the Newsboy variety.
Pie-Eater- Did I ever tell you I have credit at Tibbys? From now on, you can buy Race Memorial Pie. How fun will that be, huh?
Swifty-Common sense. Honor. Guts. Speed. Everything you need to take over my numbers racket. Put those legs to good use-run away from all the Bookies you (or, I) cheated! Heh.
Bumblits-First off, I want you to help Specie translate that book I left him. Secondly, I want you to play with the little guys. Little guys like playing stickball. Lucky you have your very own ball and bat, now, ain't it?
Boots-I'm sorry, buddy, but you are in desperate need of a new wardrobe. Take mine. It ought to fit you.And if it doesn't ask Kloppman to alter a few things and you'll be fine.
Les-Remember the freakishly large amount marbles and pennies I've won from you? They're yours again. I suggest you start by playing Skittery-he lost more then you did.
Snipeshooter-You know you want 'em. You've always wanted 'em. And now they are yours. Ask Kloppman to get my Havanas' out of the strong-box for you. Maybe if you have your own you won't feel inclined to steal other peoples!
Other stuff I own that you can decide amongst yourselves on what to do with it:
~The remaining amount of moolah I've got-you'll find most of it in that biscuit tin under my bed, the one I never let anyone touch.
~The rest of what's in that biscuit tin: pictures, article clippings, letters, my birth certificate (and y'all wondered how an orphan knows his birthday.), a few addresses for interesting people
~My betting stubs. Some wins, some losses, collect them all and do with as you please.
~
In closing, I just want to say.I really love you guys. (I know what you are going to say, Kid, Dutchy-NOT IN THAT WAY!! Wipe those lewd smirks off your faces right now, geeze.) Now that I'm dead, guess its okay for you to know that. And.hopefully, you guys love me. (Kid, Dutchy, I'm warning you.)
Remember to miss me. I'll sure miss you.
Goodbye. Racetrack
~!~!~!~!~ {1} HACKERS rules. Seriously. {2} this is someone else's line. I forget whose. Feel free to claim it in a review.
Whoa.this chapter.It really was awful. Ah well. I'm writing Duchy's right now. It ought to be sooo much better.
To everyone who has already reviewed-I'm very flattered. Sort of.
The Omniscient Bookseller-*gasp* I.I wrote story that shows promise!! YAY!!
Klover- He's not nosey! Well, sorta, I mean.Okay, fine he is nosey! Meh!
Sweet Anne-Here's more. Enjoy. Review. Same thing.
Lady Elwen-I'll remember to change that once I edit it Seraph-And that.
Chicago-I think you are my one faithful reviewer.And I hope this turns out to be cute. I hope.
