Another little one-shot inspired by the holiday. Enjoy!
Blessings
"Gimme what yah got," he said, holding out his hands. "Come on, kid, all of it."
"Got a dollah, Race," Boots answered, handing over the cash. Digging into his pockets again he found two more pennies. "And this, too."
"So now we's got -- " Racetrack quickly added it up in his head. "We's got t'ree dollahs in all."
"Where'd yah get so much, Boots?" someone asked the younger newsboy with a friendly gentle punch to the shoulder. There were a few instants of talk and movement as everyone discussed their food fantasies.
"So who's gonna go wid me?" the Italian asked. Hands immediately shot into the air. Standing on his tiptoes to scan the small crowd, Racetrack squinted to see all of his friends. "Alright, Jack, Mush, Blink, you'se guys come wid me. Snitch, Skittery, you'se two start settin' dah table. Everyone else, yah gotta clean dis place up. Well, whattah yah waitin' fer? Get tah woirk!"
With that there was a flurry of movement as everyone scrambled to do their share of the work to be done in the Lodging House.
Four of the friends stepped forward. Someone held out a hand. "Bettah gimme dah money, Race, you'se don't need tah lose it at dah track." Then he laughed.
Racetrack jingled the money in his pocket. He smiled. "Nah, kid, no track fer me tahday."
They walked past the shops, smelling the cooking, mouths watering at the sights of such food. With the stash they had collected, they bought a turkey and freshly-cut potatoes, corn and bread. They bought cigarettes and beer since bottles of wine had tags with prices too high. There came a pie, too, a good fresh pumpkin pie. At last, arms loaded with their still-warm purchases, they returned home.
The table was set, all scrubbed and sparkling with poorly-prepared wax candles. Mismatched silverware and plates lined the edges, not even place mats beneath. But to the boys it shone like a brilliant star. Nothing was out of place. Everything was perfect.
"Whaccha got, boys?" Mr. Kloppman asked, tottering over to the table.
Racetrack and Mush lowered the turkey onto the dented platter in the middle of the table. "Everyone wash up 'cause we's got dinner!"
When all were washed and groomed and seated, they joined hands. For a moment they were quiet, reflective, until Jack broke the silence.
"God, if you's list'nin', we's wanna thank yah fer dah good food an' fer dah city we's livin' in. But most of all, we's wanna thank yah fer dah company of each uddah, dah good friends who're family all aroun' us tahnight. Dey's dah real blessin's."
"Amen," came the murmur of nineteen voices from around the table. They all looked up and smiled at each other.
"Happy Thanksgiving."