A/N: Looooong-ass chapter ahead. It's taken me exactly 3 months to write,
sort of because I stopped and started and rewrote at least a million and a
half times. But I like this chapter, so it was worth it
~!~!~!~!~
I'm different from the others and anyone who thinks different is just plain stupid. I mean, come on. Please. How many of the other boys are taller then Jack, AND skinnier then Skittery? How many other boys have hair so blonde, it ain't blonde, it's fucking yellow? How many of the other boys can speak 4 languages as opposed to your basic English and Bad English [1] (I can speak Dutch and BAD Dutch! Lala!)? How many of the other boys wear both specs (and Specs, rawr)? And therefore, are not tragic closet cases?
How many of the other guys are still in full contact with their families?
Yessirebob, I still talk to my family. ALL members of my family. I don't visit their graves, cry when their names are mentioned, or turn all icky pasty-pale whenever I see them on the street. I talk to them, laugh with them, try to out prank my sisters, and help my mother, aunts and grandmother keep the boarding house they run from collapsing. I love all of them, and they all love me. I think.
So. The unavoidable question has arisen. If I have this lovely group of blood-relations who live on the far side of the island, why am I living at the Lodging House? Well, there are 2 reasons for that really-firstly, we seriously needed the cash, and secondly, do me a favor and look at the family members I list in the paragraph above.
Sisters. Mother. Aunts. Grandmother. No fathers, uncles, grandfathers, male cousins, sisters husbands, none whatsoever. Yeah. All 12 members of my family are female. And trust me, if you grow up with 4 older and 4 younger sisters, two doting ditzy aunts, one hard-ass grandmother and a mother who runs a boarding house for single/widowed female factory workers with a strict NO MEN ON THE PREMISIS WITHOUT AUTHORIZATION rule.By the time you turn 12-whether you be gay or no-wham, bam, thank-you-ma'am, you are GONE. Not permanently, of course. Take head, my friends, one thing you do not want is 12 very formidable, very improbable, VERY DUTCH women very pissed off at you for not coming home at least once week. This is why you can find me, almost every weekend (not to mention the days surrounding all major holidays and celebrations), being slave to their every wish and whim.
My family operates on a very strong 'Why beat around the bush when we can just cut the damn thing down and see more clearly?' basis. Zero bullshit or less is tolerated. Which is why I freely admit my girls have me wrapped around their collective little finger. My mother only need snap her fingers and I'm there, tripping over myself to help her out. I have gotten into fights with my sisters over who loved our Aunties/grandmother the most. And my sisters are a force to be reckoned with in their own right.
Its all in the way they look at you, you know? Marjan, the eldest-with one look she has you spilling the deepest darkest secrets of your soul. Irene gives you more of a 'touch anything I care about and suffer, schijt schare ' glare, and it's pretty damn effective. Then there is Gyselle, who doesn't even have to look at you to make you want to give her your heart, body, soul, and the last penny you'll ever make. Helga, she has sort of that same quality, only when you look at her, you just know how smart she is, how much she's going to achieve. The twins-Luva and Yvette-don't give looks to anyone but each other-but its like 'the most important things are the things people don't say', you know? When both their faces are plastered with mischievous grins after one of them has just given the other 'the look', you know you are going to pay in ego for the next trillion years. After you receive the results of those grins, you go to Marta-one smile from her and you know you're worth a million dollars again. And lastly, of course, is Kitty. I can resist anyone else's pouting except hers-if she even looks like she is considering giving me the sad puppy face, I will break down and do anything she wishes me to do(this has led to me wearing a dress and pearls to a neighborhood social, the pinching of too many pieces of penny candy to count, and court order banning me from every Shoe-Shine stall from here to Newark.)
Yep, my girls. They taught me everything I need to know. Sure, the Newsies have taught me important things to-honor, valor, how to drink 14 shots in a row and not spew-but the really important things I learned from my family. I can sew, hem, and patch any garment. I can knit scarves and hats-Oma says I'm almost ready to learn how to make sweaters. I can clean almost anything- silverware to stains. I can cook something that is actually eatable-and I know where/how to get the best deals on all the ingredients I'll need. I can quiet-not to mention control-small children, and how to take care of them(or anyone else for that matter) when they're sick or broken in someway(broken limbs, broken hearts, vhatever.). Not to mention I'm probably one of the few members of the male species on the planet who is blessed with feminine intuition. I don't listen to it much, but its there, trust me. I can usually tell what people are feeling, why their feeling that way, and when to shut up. My mother likes to tease me about this, patting my shoulder and saying, 'Ahck, beminde, you are going to make some man so happy some day!'. I wonder if she knows how right she is.Probably. She's my mother. She knows everything.
Having been brought up in a household made up strictly of female personages has one other advantage-cookie to anyone who can guess what it is. I'll give you some hints. I live with a bunch of boys. A bunch of mostly hetro boys. Who don't get laid much. That's right folks. When story time comes around, I am the master teller of tales-not to mention I can auto-correct some of the fabulous tales Kid Blink or Pie Eater come up with(honest to Godly, where they hear such things is beyond me.)
But this does lead to the occasional problem. Newsies hear about how much I know about the female body, newsies want to know where I learned it- especially since there's no way in hell I've found out through personal experience. Newsies hear about my family. Newsies want to meet said family. Newsies do meet said family. Said family falls utterly in love with newsies. Hell breaks loose over my head. Entertaining hell to be sure, but still hell.
The day I brought my friends over to visit my family was the day my family fell utterly in love with them. And vise versa. Every time I go home, everyone wants to know how everyone else is doing. My grandmother is concerned that Itey-who she believes to have impeccable manners and religious beliefs-will be corrupted by 'those heathen' we live with. My mother is besotted with Jack and Pie-who both complimented her cooking, and Marjan has decided we are all in desperate need of mothering and she's the one to give us that(disturbing.). Irene won't shut up about how she's going to maim Kid Blink next time she sees him(even though its obvious she fancies him), Gyselle won't shut up about if she wonders if Mush, Skittery, Jake and Snoddy still fight over her(they do) and Helga won't shut up about how I have to bring David and Specs back sometime so she can finish discussing books and schools and such with her(I won't. She can have David, but Specs is MINE). I'm still trying to figure out a way to inform Race and Bumlets they have 2 new minions, then kill them for teaching the twins how to make firecrackers. Crutchy is still worried sick over how quiet Marta is, and whether she is doing alright(I told him she's like that all the time, but they hit it off rather well, so he completely ignores me and continues to worry). And last time I was at the house, Kitty almost burst into tears when I told her it would be awhile before Snitch and Snipeshooter could come back to play with her.
It drives me insane how much they like each other. But in a way, it's the best thing that's ever happened. I was so afraid my two families would hate each other, but they don't. They worship each other(in a really scary way, to be sure, but still), so instead of two separate families, I've got one incredibly big, loving, multi-everything family. That's one of the best things about being a newsies, you know? You never really think about loosing your blood family, or where they are, or who anyone else is by birth, because no one cares. We are one massive family within ourselves. Not related by blood or bone, but we do consider each other family. And that's what's really matters, right? Right.
My name is Alexander Van Helsing. This is why I am the way I am. How about you?
~!~!~!~!~ [1] 5th Element, anyone?
~!~!~!~!~
I'm different from the others and anyone who thinks different is just plain stupid. I mean, come on. Please. How many of the other boys are taller then Jack, AND skinnier then Skittery? How many other boys have hair so blonde, it ain't blonde, it's fucking yellow? How many of the other boys can speak 4 languages as opposed to your basic English and Bad English [1] (I can speak Dutch and BAD Dutch! Lala!)? How many of the other boys wear both specs (and Specs, rawr)? And therefore, are not tragic closet cases?
How many of the other guys are still in full contact with their families?
Yessirebob, I still talk to my family. ALL members of my family. I don't visit their graves, cry when their names are mentioned, or turn all icky pasty-pale whenever I see them on the street. I talk to them, laugh with them, try to out prank my sisters, and help my mother, aunts and grandmother keep the boarding house they run from collapsing. I love all of them, and they all love me. I think.
So. The unavoidable question has arisen. If I have this lovely group of blood-relations who live on the far side of the island, why am I living at the Lodging House? Well, there are 2 reasons for that really-firstly, we seriously needed the cash, and secondly, do me a favor and look at the family members I list in the paragraph above.
Sisters. Mother. Aunts. Grandmother. No fathers, uncles, grandfathers, male cousins, sisters husbands, none whatsoever. Yeah. All 12 members of my family are female. And trust me, if you grow up with 4 older and 4 younger sisters, two doting ditzy aunts, one hard-ass grandmother and a mother who runs a boarding house for single/widowed female factory workers with a strict NO MEN ON THE PREMISIS WITHOUT AUTHORIZATION rule.By the time you turn 12-whether you be gay or no-wham, bam, thank-you-ma'am, you are GONE. Not permanently, of course. Take head, my friends, one thing you do not want is 12 very formidable, very improbable, VERY DUTCH women very pissed off at you for not coming home at least once week. This is why you can find me, almost every weekend (not to mention the days surrounding all major holidays and celebrations), being slave to their every wish and whim.
My family operates on a very strong 'Why beat around the bush when we can just cut the damn thing down and see more clearly?' basis. Zero bullshit or less is tolerated. Which is why I freely admit my girls have me wrapped around their collective little finger. My mother only need snap her fingers and I'm there, tripping over myself to help her out. I have gotten into fights with my sisters over who loved our Aunties/grandmother the most. And my sisters are a force to be reckoned with in their own right.
Its all in the way they look at you, you know? Marjan, the eldest-with one look she has you spilling the deepest darkest secrets of your soul. Irene gives you more of a 'touch anything I care about and suffer, schijt schare ' glare, and it's pretty damn effective. Then there is Gyselle, who doesn't even have to look at you to make you want to give her your heart, body, soul, and the last penny you'll ever make. Helga, she has sort of that same quality, only when you look at her, you just know how smart she is, how much she's going to achieve. The twins-Luva and Yvette-don't give looks to anyone but each other-but its like 'the most important things are the things people don't say', you know? When both their faces are plastered with mischievous grins after one of them has just given the other 'the look', you know you are going to pay in ego for the next trillion years. After you receive the results of those grins, you go to Marta-one smile from her and you know you're worth a million dollars again. And lastly, of course, is Kitty. I can resist anyone else's pouting except hers-if she even looks like she is considering giving me the sad puppy face, I will break down and do anything she wishes me to do(this has led to me wearing a dress and pearls to a neighborhood social, the pinching of too many pieces of penny candy to count, and court order banning me from every Shoe-Shine stall from here to Newark.)
Yep, my girls. They taught me everything I need to know. Sure, the Newsies have taught me important things to-honor, valor, how to drink 14 shots in a row and not spew-but the really important things I learned from my family. I can sew, hem, and patch any garment. I can knit scarves and hats-Oma says I'm almost ready to learn how to make sweaters. I can clean almost anything- silverware to stains. I can cook something that is actually eatable-and I know where/how to get the best deals on all the ingredients I'll need. I can quiet-not to mention control-small children, and how to take care of them(or anyone else for that matter) when they're sick or broken in someway(broken limbs, broken hearts, vhatever.). Not to mention I'm probably one of the few members of the male species on the planet who is blessed with feminine intuition. I don't listen to it much, but its there, trust me. I can usually tell what people are feeling, why their feeling that way, and when to shut up. My mother likes to tease me about this, patting my shoulder and saying, 'Ahck, beminde, you are going to make some man so happy some day!'. I wonder if she knows how right she is.Probably. She's my mother. She knows everything.
Having been brought up in a household made up strictly of female personages has one other advantage-cookie to anyone who can guess what it is. I'll give you some hints. I live with a bunch of boys. A bunch of mostly hetro boys. Who don't get laid much. That's right folks. When story time comes around, I am the master teller of tales-not to mention I can auto-correct some of the fabulous tales Kid Blink or Pie Eater come up with(honest to Godly, where they hear such things is beyond me.)
But this does lead to the occasional problem. Newsies hear about how much I know about the female body, newsies want to know where I learned it- especially since there's no way in hell I've found out through personal experience. Newsies hear about my family. Newsies want to meet said family. Newsies do meet said family. Said family falls utterly in love with newsies. Hell breaks loose over my head. Entertaining hell to be sure, but still hell.
The day I brought my friends over to visit my family was the day my family fell utterly in love with them. And vise versa. Every time I go home, everyone wants to know how everyone else is doing. My grandmother is concerned that Itey-who she believes to have impeccable manners and religious beliefs-will be corrupted by 'those heathen' we live with. My mother is besotted with Jack and Pie-who both complimented her cooking, and Marjan has decided we are all in desperate need of mothering and she's the one to give us that(disturbing.). Irene won't shut up about how she's going to maim Kid Blink next time she sees him(even though its obvious she fancies him), Gyselle won't shut up about if she wonders if Mush, Skittery, Jake and Snoddy still fight over her(they do) and Helga won't shut up about how I have to bring David and Specs back sometime so she can finish discussing books and schools and such with her(I won't. She can have David, but Specs is MINE). I'm still trying to figure out a way to inform Race and Bumlets they have 2 new minions, then kill them for teaching the twins how to make firecrackers. Crutchy is still worried sick over how quiet Marta is, and whether she is doing alright(I told him she's like that all the time, but they hit it off rather well, so he completely ignores me and continues to worry). And last time I was at the house, Kitty almost burst into tears when I told her it would be awhile before Snitch and Snipeshooter could come back to play with her.
It drives me insane how much they like each other. But in a way, it's the best thing that's ever happened. I was so afraid my two families would hate each other, but they don't. They worship each other(in a really scary way, to be sure, but still), so instead of two separate families, I've got one incredibly big, loving, multi-everything family. That's one of the best things about being a newsies, you know? You never really think about loosing your blood family, or where they are, or who anyone else is by birth, because no one cares. We are one massive family within ourselves. Not related by blood or bone, but we do consider each other family. And that's what's really matters, right? Right.
My name is Alexander Van Helsing. This is why I am the way I am. How about you?
~!~!~!~!~ [1] 5th Element, anyone?