I hesitantly entered the building and after breathing deeply, looked
around. There was a large desk sitting in the center of a spacious lobby.
The floors sparkled, and everything was clean. I was almost immediately
accosted by a man sitting behind the desk furiously scribbling down notes.
"Miss, can I help you? Miss? Do you have an appointment?" I looked at him and tried not to wrinkle my nose. He looked like a rather self-centered little toad, hopping around trying to get my attention. I patiently placed my hands on my hips and cocked my head at him.
"Yessir, I have an appointment with a Mr. Brian Denton. I do believe if you contact him, he'll send me straight up. He's expecting a Misery." The man's eyebrows clambered up his forehead at a rapid speed as he looked up at me.
"Misery? What sort of a Christian name is that? Are you foreign?" I bit back a laugh and shook my head. The man tried to hem and haw his way out of not sending word up stairs but fortunately for me I heard Brian Denton's voice echo in the lobby as he spied me on his way up the stairs to our left.
"Misery! I was afraid you wouldn't come, here follow me." As we disappeared up the staircase, he leaned down and whispered that he was sorry if the little man behind the desk had given me a hard time.
"He takes his job rather seriously. Why don't you look nice!" He had noticed my dress. I smiled at him and nodded as we entered a room filled with desks and a group of men typing away furiously and running around at break-neck speed. It seemed nobody sat still for even a moment. I got a few offhand glances but nobody was paying attention to anything that wasn't work. Brian herded me into a small corner office and told me to sit down in front of a desk piled high with papers and books.
He offered me a tin cup filled with tea, which I gladly accepted. It was slightly bitter and didn't have milk, but I drank it just the same. Leaning on his elbows, he sat behind his desk and looked at me expectantly.
"Okay," I started slowly. Taking my diary out from where I had yet again tucked it into my boot, I placed it carefully onto Denton's desk.
"I assume you've heard about the newsie who died a week or so ago from Spot Conlon's territory?" Denton nodded, and a mixture of sadness and anger crossed his handsome features. I fiddled with the leather binding that I used to keep my diary shut and looked at my hands the whole time.
"Spot's always had fights with this gang of boys known as the Finnegan boys who are from Green Point, in Brooklyn. I..Well..This is really hard for me to say. The leaders of that gang are my brother's. I'm Caitlin 'Misery' Finnegan. The reason I'm here in Manhattan is because I ran away from them and ended up on Spot's docks. Racetrack found me and brought me here. I want to help erase what my brother's have done. I want it to stop." I took a shaky breath and patted the diary that lay in front of me absently.
"This has all the names of the judges and policemen in Brooklyn that my brother's are paying to keep quiet about the crimes and murders they've done. It also has the locations of some bodies. I want you to have it. I want you to make sure they get put away for good. Can't you let the police know or even Mr. Roosevelt? I'm not lying, honest. They can investigate, they'll find the bodies and proof off the payoffs. I can even tell you when and were my brother's meet up with the cops in Brooklyn to give them the money." Risking a glance in Denton's direction I was met with eyes wide with shock. Taking an extra large gulp of tea, he spluttered and waved his hands, his eyes suddenly gone excited.
"This is going to be huge! Don't you worry Misery," he patted my hand and shot up from his seat like someone had lit a fire underneath his arse. Striding around his office, he raved about her courage and how he was certain that Roosevelt would help them rid Green Point of scum like that.
"I personally know two judges who are itching to get rid of the Finnegan boys. This is excellent." I nodded, a smile creeping across my face in relief. Then I looked up at him, worry clouding my eyes once more.
"You can't tell the newsies that I'm a Finnegan, though Denton. They don't know and I'd like to keep it that way if I could. I don't think if they found out who I was and that I had lied to them, they'd be very happy." Denton scratched his chin, looking at me musingly.
"I really don't think it will be that hard for them to understand why you wanted to keep this quiet, but if that's what you want." I nodded vigorously and he shrugged and agreed. I felt an enormous weight being lifted from my shoulders. After I shook Denton's hand repeatedly and thanked him sounding I hoped, not like a babbling idiot, I skipped down the staircase his reassurances that he would act on my information immediately ringing in my ears.
Outside Spot was leaning up against the building, his eyes closed, a cigarette dangling from his lips. They were curved slightly upwards in a small smile. I studied him for a moment or two. His arms were crossed, and his sleeves rolled up to reveal the narrow muscles bunched in his forearms. He wore a black string with a key on it around his neck. I had no idea where he had gotten the thing or what it meant to him. I knew he hadn't had it when I had first met him years ago. A lock of his ashen blonde hair fell into one eye, and he wore his usual costume of clothing.
Suddenly as if he had known I was there his eyes opened to regale me with an amused look. I had always been struck by how blue his eyes were. This time wasn't any different. We looked at each other for a few more seconds before he silently held out his hand. I put my own into it and we started heading back towards the lodging house, although I knew we probably weren't going straight there.
"You look much happier now that you've talked to Denton," Spot observed. I blushed and just nodded my head. I wasn't about to let anything slip to Spot although I could tell he was dying to know. His hand tightened on mine, and I ignored it, freeing my hand momentarily to light another cigarette. He recaptured my hand almost as quickly as I had let his go.
"So where are you taking me?" I asked him as we walked together. He winked at me and I shook my head. We ended up at a small pub right before the Brooklyn Bridge on the Manhattan side. Spot called the bartender 'Malcolm' and we were seated at a small table in the back. Spot told me to order whatever I wished, he had some money. I knew that he didn't have much, so I only asked for a bowl of soup and a pint. Luckily a piece of warm, crusty bread was also included and I gnawed on it thankfully. Spot snorted with laughter and watched me with intent eyes. I shivered slightly and hoped that he would stop sometime soon. The small pub began to fill up with working class individuals and some street-walkers. Apparently Spot knew some of them as well for a few tarts wandered over, exclaiming over the boy. Giving one of his infamous cool-eyed glowers seemed effective, for they all drifted away rather quickly.
We drank a few more pints and then exited the pub, although the night was still young. The rest of the night was spent walking around, and then more for Spot's pleasure than mine, seeing a cock fight in a back room down a side street in Manhattan. I begged to go wait for Spot outside, but he just frowned at me, tearing his eyes away from the furiously fighting roosters before guiding me outside with a hand in the small of my back.
"This ain't no place for a girl to be hangin' around by herself," he chided me lighting a smoke and then taking the still burning match and lighting the cigarette I held up to my own mouth. I jerked a thumb back towards the room crowded with cigar smoke and hollering men.
"Better to be out here than in there," I said sharply. Spot merely inclined his head and looked down at me before slinging an arm around my shoulders.
"I think it's time I got you home." When we paused in front of the Duane Street Lodging House, I waited to see if Spot would enter along with me, but he kissed me and hugged me close to him before saying that he needed to go check on his boys. I watched him swagger down the street towards Brooklyn, swinging his cane and whistling a jaunty Irish tune. I felt a sharp pull at my heart seeing him go and I knew I'd remember him like that forever, no matter how old I got, or how long I knew him.
"'Ey Misery! Come on upstairs and play some poker!" Pistol was violently tugging on my sleeve, and I gave in and ran up the stairs after her.
The next day was spent selling papers and cavorting with Racetrack. I felt more than a little guilty with the time I spent with either boy. Spot Conlon's stolen kisses and Racetrack's adoring attention was beginning to wear me out. By the time evening rolled around, a large group of the Manhattan newsies were making our way to Brooklyn for a poker game.
I walked alongside Racetrack, Jack, Meesh, Bourbon, Pistol, Kid Blink, Mush, Bumlets, Skittery, and Dutchy. The rest had opted to stay back at the lodging house. Rags had practically begged on hands and knees to be included, but so far no luck. I could see the sunlight setting on the East River as we made our way to the warehouse in Brooklyn. Two sentries, tall muscular boys with no expression on their faces halted us, and then recognizing a few of us let us pass. I shuddered when I saw the thick clubs tucked into the backs of their trousers. Not just armed with slingshots, were these two.
We were greeted at the front door by a serene looking Pokey who was juggling a small newsie who only looked to be Ladybug's age, about five. The boy was rapidly crawling all over Pokey's back and pulling on her hair.
"For the love of all that's holy, Monkey cut it out!" The boy merely stuck his fist into his mouth and glowered at all of us, causing most of us girls to coo in admiration at his cuteness. Looking alarmed, he clambered off of Pokey and beat a hasty retreat. The boys slapped their knees.
"Way to go," Jack panted looking at Pistol, Bourbon, Meesh and I.
"You really scared him off," Racetrack hooted holding onto Blink's shoulder for support, wiping tears out of the corners of eyes. I cuffed him soundly and he stuck a finger in my face.
"Don't do that, Misery," he warned. I bit his finger solemnly and he yowled and proceeded to chase me around the room. That is until Spot sauntered down the stairs, his eyes locked onto me. There was a large table in the middle of the downstairs room, and I was shocked to see Loon sitting at a chair by it. He looked a lot better, and he was smiling. The Manhattan newsies surrounded him, slapping his back and hugging him. The boy looked positively radiant at the attention. I was introduced to him, and at first he started in shock. I pleaded silently that I didn't remind him of my brother's looks-wise too much. But apparently I didn't, for he shook his head and welcomed me with a slight, shy smile.
We settled around the table, and soon after that general mayhem occurred. Someone dragged out a box that was full of crudely sealed bottles of ale. Spot sat by my side, providing me with drinks and lighting my cigarettes. I looked up at one point and saw Racetrack watching us steadily a look of such intense yearning shining in his dark eyes that I was transfixed. He immediately wiped the emotions off of his face when he saw me looking and the next time I met his gaze, he was guarded.
The third time that this happened; I realized that I couldn't bear it anymore. Rising, I muttered something about needing fresh air, and made my way outside. More than slightly tipsy, I stumbled past the two sentries, one who made a crude comment that had I been less intoxicated, I would have punched him for, as I passed. I heard footsteps behind me, and I increased my speed. Hearing swearing, I almost made it down an alleyway when hands grabbed my shoulders.
"Fuck Misery, what's the problem?" I fought back before I realized it was Spot. Yellow light from a streetlamp illuminated his handsome profile as he held my hands tightly against his chest, causing me to stop struggling almost instantly.
"N-nothing, Spot, nothing at all." Releasing me, he grasped my hand and walked with me before I leaned up against an alleyway wall. I was tired suddenly, so tired that I just wanted to sink down to the ground and sleep for ages. Lighting a cigarette I inhaled deeply before exhaling out of my nose. Spot stood silently assessing me with his disturbingly piercing eyes. I opened my mouth to say something to him before freezing, mid-sentence as we heard the clatter of a kicked can.
Spot was instantly by my side, grasping my arm in his hand, his eyes furiously intent on trying to reach through the darkness of the alleyway.
"Who the fuck is there?" His voice was raspy, yet strong. I heard ice- cold laughter and the hairs on the back of my neck lifted. A nasty sounding voice echoed clearly in the night air.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Spot fucking Conlon. And who's this? Is that our baby sister, Jaime?" I felt like fainting as the pair of men entered the lamplight, their eyes blank of emotion, swinging clubs, brassknuckles adorning their hands.
"I believe it is at that, Murph. Hullo Misery, fancy meeting you here." Spot's eyes flew to my face and I winced at the enraged hurt that flared in them before he squared his jaw and faced my brother's. Ten other men followed my brother's out of the darkness, all armed, all equally as formidable in size and strength. I heard Spot cursing underneath his breath and I do believe it was then that I did faint.
Just Duck - Yes, I know what you mean, I too have read far too many stories in which case Spot has beaten Race out. We'll see what happens. And yes, I must admit that Mary-Sue's don't really bother me, just the lack of originality in some of their cases. I don't think Misery's a whore, I think she's just human. Apparently I'm not the only one but I did see someone disagree. Hehe..As long as she's a lovable slut than who can blame her ;) . And I ALWAYS go for the guys who can make me laugh. There's nothing else like 'em.
Irish Rover - ANOTHER name?! My goodness girl you do change 'em quick. And yes, you would be right about Misery ratting out her brother's. Do they get even? We'll have to wait and see.
Netangel182 - Good, I'm so glad it's believable. Glad to see you're still reading!!.
Cabby1 - Eee, I'm so glad you like it! Hehe Race does deserve a smack but you were right to give him an icepack.. See Race, she IS still nice to you..
Race: Sure, sure. Tell that to me achin' head.. *pout*
Heheh..He'll get over it..the big baby..
Pokey7 - Yeah it sure is. Curse the cold weather, I'm always sick all winter long. Oh well. Such is life. I'm glad Race and Misery are talking again, I couldn't make them stay mad at each other. I just couldn't..
Chronicles Bailey - Ahah.at least she's a lovable ho. And I would definitely have issues about choosing between Race and Spot. It would put me in quite the situation. *daydreams*
erin sailor ditz-Hah! Of course I don't think you're a bitch for correcting me, if that's how you want it, no problem it's not a big deal ( . Wahoo I got some jiggles and wiggles!! That's awesome!! Thank you so much!
Chelsea - That's fine, you can review me under whatever name you want as long as you still review! :P Hehe..kidding. Okay so not really. OHMYGOD I love Davy Jones. Love him! He's so little and cute!. I can so see Max Casella as a Timon. Definitely. One of my close friends is obsessed with Vice City and I think it's a riot when she picks up hookers. Ah so funny, I'm so immature. Bwahaha..anyway. I'm glad you're still obsessed with my story! My mom wants to marry Bill Pullman she thinks he's so hot. I do too in an older, more dignified way.
Jocelyn Padoga - Yay! New reviewer!! I'm glad you like it, I hope you keep reading!.
"Miss, can I help you? Miss? Do you have an appointment?" I looked at him and tried not to wrinkle my nose. He looked like a rather self-centered little toad, hopping around trying to get my attention. I patiently placed my hands on my hips and cocked my head at him.
"Yessir, I have an appointment with a Mr. Brian Denton. I do believe if you contact him, he'll send me straight up. He's expecting a Misery." The man's eyebrows clambered up his forehead at a rapid speed as he looked up at me.
"Misery? What sort of a Christian name is that? Are you foreign?" I bit back a laugh and shook my head. The man tried to hem and haw his way out of not sending word up stairs but fortunately for me I heard Brian Denton's voice echo in the lobby as he spied me on his way up the stairs to our left.
"Misery! I was afraid you wouldn't come, here follow me." As we disappeared up the staircase, he leaned down and whispered that he was sorry if the little man behind the desk had given me a hard time.
"He takes his job rather seriously. Why don't you look nice!" He had noticed my dress. I smiled at him and nodded as we entered a room filled with desks and a group of men typing away furiously and running around at break-neck speed. It seemed nobody sat still for even a moment. I got a few offhand glances but nobody was paying attention to anything that wasn't work. Brian herded me into a small corner office and told me to sit down in front of a desk piled high with papers and books.
He offered me a tin cup filled with tea, which I gladly accepted. It was slightly bitter and didn't have milk, but I drank it just the same. Leaning on his elbows, he sat behind his desk and looked at me expectantly.
"Okay," I started slowly. Taking my diary out from where I had yet again tucked it into my boot, I placed it carefully onto Denton's desk.
"I assume you've heard about the newsie who died a week or so ago from Spot Conlon's territory?" Denton nodded, and a mixture of sadness and anger crossed his handsome features. I fiddled with the leather binding that I used to keep my diary shut and looked at my hands the whole time.
"Spot's always had fights with this gang of boys known as the Finnegan boys who are from Green Point, in Brooklyn. I..Well..This is really hard for me to say. The leaders of that gang are my brother's. I'm Caitlin 'Misery' Finnegan. The reason I'm here in Manhattan is because I ran away from them and ended up on Spot's docks. Racetrack found me and brought me here. I want to help erase what my brother's have done. I want it to stop." I took a shaky breath and patted the diary that lay in front of me absently.
"This has all the names of the judges and policemen in Brooklyn that my brother's are paying to keep quiet about the crimes and murders they've done. It also has the locations of some bodies. I want you to have it. I want you to make sure they get put away for good. Can't you let the police know or even Mr. Roosevelt? I'm not lying, honest. They can investigate, they'll find the bodies and proof off the payoffs. I can even tell you when and were my brother's meet up with the cops in Brooklyn to give them the money." Risking a glance in Denton's direction I was met with eyes wide with shock. Taking an extra large gulp of tea, he spluttered and waved his hands, his eyes suddenly gone excited.
"This is going to be huge! Don't you worry Misery," he patted my hand and shot up from his seat like someone had lit a fire underneath his arse. Striding around his office, he raved about her courage and how he was certain that Roosevelt would help them rid Green Point of scum like that.
"I personally know two judges who are itching to get rid of the Finnegan boys. This is excellent." I nodded, a smile creeping across my face in relief. Then I looked up at him, worry clouding my eyes once more.
"You can't tell the newsies that I'm a Finnegan, though Denton. They don't know and I'd like to keep it that way if I could. I don't think if they found out who I was and that I had lied to them, they'd be very happy." Denton scratched his chin, looking at me musingly.
"I really don't think it will be that hard for them to understand why you wanted to keep this quiet, but if that's what you want." I nodded vigorously and he shrugged and agreed. I felt an enormous weight being lifted from my shoulders. After I shook Denton's hand repeatedly and thanked him sounding I hoped, not like a babbling idiot, I skipped down the staircase his reassurances that he would act on my information immediately ringing in my ears.
Outside Spot was leaning up against the building, his eyes closed, a cigarette dangling from his lips. They were curved slightly upwards in a small smile. I studied him for a moment or two. His arms were crossed, and his sleeves rolled up to reveal the narrow muscles bunched in his forearms. He wore a black string with a key on it around his neck. I had no idea where he had gotten the thing or what it meant to him. I knew he hadn't had it when I had first met him years ago. A lock of his ashen blonde hair fell into one eye, and he wore his usual costume of clothing.
Suddenly as if he had known I was there his eyes opened to regale me with an amused look. I had always been struck by how blue his eyes were. This time wasn't any different. We looked at each other for a few more seconds before he silently held out his hand. I put my own into it and we started heading back towards the lodging house, although I knew we probably weren't going straight there.
"You look much happier now that you've talked to Denton," Spot observed. I blushed and just nodded my head. I wasn't about to let anything slip to Spot although I could tell he was dying to know. His hand tightened on mine, and I ignored it, freeing my hand momentarily to light another cigarette. He recaptured my hand almost as quickly as I had let his go.
"So where are you taking me?" I asked him as we walked together. He winked at me and I shook my head. We ended up at a small pub right before the Brooklyn Bridge on the Manhattan side. Spot called the bartender 'Malcolm' and we were seated at a small table in the back. Spot told me to order whatever I wished, he had some money. I knew that he didn't have much, so I only asked for a bowl of soup and a pint. Luckily a piece of warm, crusty bread was also included and I gnawed on it thankfully. Spot snorted with laughter and watched me with intent eyes. I shivered slightly and hoped that he would stop sometime soon. The small pub began to fill up with working class individuals and some street-walkers. Apparently Spot knew some of them as well for a few tarts wandered over, exclaiming over the boy. Giving one of his infamous cool-eyed glowers seemed effective, for they all drifted away rather quickly.
We drank a few more pints and then exited the pub, although the night was still young. The rest of the night was spent walking around, and then more for Spot's pleasure than mine, seeing a cock fight in a back room down a side street in Manhattan. I begged to go wait for Spot outside, but he just frowned at me, tearing his eyes away from the furiously fighting roosters before guiding me outside with a hand in the small of my back.
"This ain't no place for a girl to be hangin' around by herself," he chided me lighting a smoke and then taking the still burning match and lighting the cigarette I held up to my own mouth. I jerked a thumb back towards the room crowded with cigar smoke and hollering men.
"Better to be out here than in there," I said sharply. Spot merely inclined his head and looked down at me before slinging an arm around my shoulders.
"I think it's time I got you home." When we paused in front of the Duane Street Lodging House, I waited to see if Spot would enter along with me, but he kissed me and hugged me close to him before saying that he needed to go check on his boys. I watched him swagger down the street towards Brooklyn, swinging his cane and whistling a jaunty Irish tune. I felt a sharp pull at my heart seeing him go and I knew I'd remember him like that forever, no matter how old I got, or how long I knew him.
"'Ey Misery! Come on upstairs and play some poker!" Pistol was violently tugging on my sleeve, and I gave in and ran up the stairs after her.
The next day was spent selling papers and cavorting with Racetrack. I felt more than a little guilty with the time I spent with either boy. Spot Conlon's stolen kisses and Racetrack's adoring attention was beginning to wear me out. By the time evening rolled around, a large group of the Manhattan newsies were making our way to Brooklyn for a poker game.
I walked alongside Racetrack, Jack, Meesh, Bourbon, Pistol, Kid Blink, Mush, Bumlets, Skittery, and Dutchy. The rest had opted to stay back at the lodging house. Rags had practically begged on hands and knees to be included, but so far no luck. I could see the sunlight setting on the East River as we made our way to the warehouse in Brooklyn. Two sentries, tall muscular boys with no expression on their faces halted us, and then recognizing a few of us let us pass. I shuddered when I saw the thick clubs tucked into the backs of their trousers. Not just armed with slingshots, were these two.
We were greeted at the front door by a serene looking Pokey who was juggling a small newsie who only looked to be Ladybug's age, about five. The boy was rapidly crawling all over Pokey's back and pulling on her hair.
"For the love of all that's holy, Monkey cut it out!" The boy merely stuck his fist into his mouth and glowered at all of us, causing most of us girls to coo in admiration at his cuteness. Looking alarmed, he clambered off of Pokey and beat a hasty retreat. The boys slapped their knees.
"Way to go," Jack panted looking at Pistol, Bourbon, Meesh and I.
"You really scared him off," Racetrack hooted holding onto Blink's shoulder for support, wiping tears out of the corners of eyes. I cuffed him soundly and he stuck a finger in my face.
"Don't do that, Misery," he warned. I bit his finger solemnly and he yowled and proceeded to chase me around the room. That is until Spot sauntered down the stairs, his eyes locked onto me. There was a large table in the middle of the downstairs room, and I was shocked to see Loon sitting at a chair by it. He looked a lot better, and he was smiling. The Manhattan newsies surrounded him, slapping his back and hugging him. The boy looked positively radiant at the attention. I was introduced to him, and at first he started in shock. I pleaded silently that I didn't remind him of my brother's looks-wise too much. But apparently I didn't, for he shook his head and welcomed me with a slight, shy smile.
We settled around the table, and soon after that general mayhem occurred. Someone dragged out a box that was full of crudely sealed bottles of ale. Spot sat by my side, providing me with drinks and lighting my cigarettes. I looked up at one point and saw Racetrack watching us steadily a look of such intense yearning shining in his dark eyes that I was transfixed. He immediately wiped the emotions off of his face when he saw me looking and the next time I met his gaze, he was guarded.
The third time that this happened; I realized that I couldn't bear it anymore. Rising, I muttered something about needing fresh air, and made my way outside. More than slightly tipsy, I stumbled past the two sentries, one who made a crude comment that had I been less intoxicated, I would have punched him for, as I passed. I heard footsteps behind me, and I increased my speed. Hearing swearing, I almost made it down an alleyway when hands grabbed my shoulders.
"Fuck Misery, what's the problem?" I fought back before I realized it was Spot. Yellow light from a streetlamp illuminated his handsome profile as he held my hands tightly against his chest, causing me to stop struggling almost instantly.
"N-nothing, Spot, nothing at all." Releasing me, he grasped my hand and walked with me before I leaned up against an alleyway wall. I was tired suddenly, so tired that I just wanted to sink down to the ground and sleep for ages. Lighting a cigarette I inhaled deeply before exhaling out of my nose. Spot stood silently assessing me with his disturbingly piercing eyes. I opened my mouth to say something to him before freezing, mid-sentence as we heard the clatter of a kicked can.
Spot was instantly by my side, grasping my arm in his hand, his eyes furiously intent on trying to reach through the darkness of the alleyway.
"Who the fuck is there?" His voice was raspy, yet strong. I heard ice- cold laughter and the hairs on the back of my neck lifted. A nasty sounding voice echoed clearly in the night air.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Spot fucking Conlon. And who's this? Is that our baby sister, Jaime?" I felt like fainting as the pair of men entered the lamplight, their eyes blank of emotion, swinging clubs, brassknuckles adorning their hands.
"I believe it is at that, Murph. Hullo Misery, fancy meeting you here." Spot's eyes flew to my face and I winced at the enraged hurt that flared in them before he squared his jaw and faced my brother's. Ten other men followed my brother's out of the darkness, all armed, all equally as formidable in size and strength. I heard Spot cursing underneath his breath and I do believe it was then that I did faint.
Just Duck - Yes, I know what you mean, I too have read far too many stories in which case Spot has beaten Race out. We'll see what happens. And yes, I must admit that Mary-Sue's don't really bother me, just the lack of originality in some of their cases. I don't think Misery's a whore, I think she's just human. Apparently I'm not the only one but I did see someone disagree. Hehe..As long as she's a lovable slut than who can blame her ;) . And I ALWAYS go for the guys who can make me laugh. There's nothing else like 'em.
Irish Rover - ANOTHER name?! My goodness girl you do change 'em quick. And yes, you would be right about Misery ratting out her brother's. Do they get even? We'll have to wait and see.
Netangel182 - Good, I'm so glad it's believable. Glad to see you're still reading!!.
Cabby1 - Eee, I'm so glad you like it! Hehe Race does deserve a smack but you were right to give him an icepack.. See Race, she IS still nice to you..
Race: Sure, sure. Tell that to me achin' head.. *pout*
Heheh..He'll get over it..the big baby..
Pokey7 - Yeah it sure is. Curse the cold weather, I'm always sick all winter long. Oh well. Such is life. I'm glad Race and Misery are talking again, I couldn't make them stay mad at each other. I just couldn't..
Chronicles Bailey - Ahah.at least she's a lovable ho. And I would definitely have issues about choosing between Race and Spot. It would put me in quite the situation. *daydreams*
erin sailor ditz-Hah! Of course I don't think you're a bitch for correcting me, if that's how you want it, no problem it's not a big deal ( . Wahoo I got some jiggles and wiggles!! That's awesome!! Thank you so much!
Chelsea - That's fine, you can review me under whatever name you want as long as you still review! :P Hehe..kidding. Okay so not really. OHMYGOD I love Davy Jones. Love him! He's so little and cute!. I can so see Max Casella as a Timon. Definitely. One of my close friends is obsessed with Vice City and I think it's a riot when she picks up hookers. Ah so funny, I'm so immature. Bwahaha..anyway. I'm glad you're still obsessed with my story! My mom wants to marry Bill Pullman she thinks he's so hot. I do too in an older, more dignified way.
Jocelyn Padoga - Yay! New reviewer!! I'm glad you like it, I hope you keep reading!.