Author's Note: I have absolutely nothing to say, but I feel the need to
place an author's note here!!! So I shall proclaim the newsie fanfic world
that I AM MADLY IN LOVE WITH SPOT CONLON!!! Ah. There, now that I have that
somewhat out of my system, I shall begin to write the next chapter . . .
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this cruel, cruel world that has to do with the newsies, including the actual newsies, who I adore FAR beyond comprehension.
Ok, so I didn't really scream. Boys don't scream. Or at least had thought so until I met Itey . . . BUT, on average, boys don't tend to scream, and that's what I had been taught, so I yelled. It was more of a surprised yell. I hopped back to Race, who was still waiting by the sink.
"Didja find it?"
"RAAAACE!!!!"
"What?"
"THERE'S A GUY UNDER YOUR BED!!!! JUST STARING BACK AT YOU!! Go, see for yourself!"
To my shock, Race didn't seem bothered or surprised by this at all. "Oh, yeah. I forgot he was unda theah."
"You . . . what?"
"C'mon."
By the time we got back to Race's bunk, the boy had already crawled out and was dusting off his pants. He stood about my height, maybe a little taller, and, like all the other newsies, he wore a cap (though his was covered in dust) and suspenders. "Red, I'd like ta introduce ya to Spot Conlon. He's the Brooklyn leada. Bad person to fight with."
"Gee, thanks, Race, make the kid terrified of me. So who's dis?"
"Dis is Red Pika. He's new. Just came today."
Spot nodded, spit into his hand, and held it out for me to shake. I spit into my own palm and shook his without hesitation. That was another thing I had learned: Never, EVER decline a spitshake. Even if it does seem awfully nasty at the time.
I wasn't sure how I felt about this Spot. His presence certainly demanded respect, and got it, too, and Race seemed pretty good friends with him, so he had to be a pretty decent guy. He had a lot of self-confidence, too, judging by his handshake. The only word I can give it is sincere. Do not ask me how a handshake is sincere but that's what comes to mind, so you can lie awake at night and try to figure it out; don't bother me.
Might I add that he was pretty damn cute.
I just had one question:
"Hey, uh, Spot?"
"Yeah, Red?"
"Um . . . what were ya doin' under Race's bed?"
Spot's face immediately went completely solemn and I think he might've blushed. He didn't exactly glare at me, but I knew I had hit a nerve.
"Gee, man, sorry, did I say somethin' wrong?"
Race, who had been lying on the floor retreiving his toothbrush, now straightened up. "Whadja say?"
"I asked Spot why he was under the bed in the first place."
Race cracked up. And I mean REALLY cracked up. In a matter of seconds he was sprawled across the bed, laughing hysterically. Eventually, face red and gasping for breath, he sat up, giggling.
I didn't get what was so funny. "Ok, so are you gonna tell me what happened or what?"
Race looked about to burst out laughing again, but a look from Spot silenced that possibility. Instead, with a smile on his face, he said, "Well, see, maybe last week oah so, we was awl hangin' out heah, playin' cahds an' awl dat stuff. Had a great time, an' Spot was dere, too. An' den, well, I guess ol' Kloppah was in a good mood dat night, cuz foist of all he didn't yell at us ta go ta bed like he usually does. But he also came up da stairs wit' da biggest tray I eva seen of . . ."
He paused and looked at Spot. "Can I tell 'im?"
Spot was looking mighty uncomfortable at this point, but he realized that Race was too far into the story to pull out, "Yeah, I guess ya might as well . . . Butcha can't laugh! Promise me dat, Red?"
"Sure. So what was on the tray, Race?"
"Well . . . it was about twenty bowls (one foah each of us) and each bowl was filled to tha brim wit'--"
Skittery flung open the door with The World's Goofiest Smile on his face. " I'SE. GOT. GREEN. JELL- O!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Spot's eyes became wide with horror and his jaw dropped ever so slightly. He instinctively grabbed his hat and dove underneath Race's bed again.
Race looked at me and sighed. "Heah we go again. Dis is exactly what happened last week. Dere ya have it. Spot Conlon, 'fearless' leada of Brooklyn is damn terrified o' Jell-O."
Spot's voice came from beneath the bed, "DON'T SAY IT!!!! DON'T SAY IT!!!!"
"What, Jell-O?" I asked.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!"
Race sighed again. "Ah, well. We'll just have ta wait until he calms down again. In da mean time, I'm gonna go brush me teeth wit—AAAAAAAH!!!!"
"What?"
"I got da wrong toothbrush! Dis ain't mine!! Dis is Snipe's!! SNIPESHOOTA!"
"What?"
"I got Spike over here!"
"YOU FOUND HIM?!?!?!" Snipeshooter was by our side in a split second and was hugging the toothbrush, something I didn't think was really possible. I mean, it's kinda small to really HUG, but he pulled it off . . . He then ran off to brush his teeth.
Race watched him with a sense of longing before bursting out, "I WANT BRUSH- BRUSH!!!!!"
I blinked. "Brush-Brush?"
"Me toothbrush! Ain'tcha eva seen Timmy da Tooth????"
"No."
"Spot move ova an' lemme get unda dere, I'se gotta get Brush-Brush!!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I bet you have . . . IT . . . an' you're gonna bring IT unda heah an' start . . . SLOIPIN' IT!!!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"
I got an idea. "Hey, Spot, can I get unda there? I don't like . . . IT."
"Ya don't?"
"Nope."
"Ok. You can come."
So I crawled under. You'd be surprised how much room there is under Race's bunk. It doesn't look very big at all, but once you get under it . . . it's pretty . . . roomy, I guess. It took me a matter of seconds to find Brush- Brush. "Ok, well, bye, Spot."
"NO! Ya can't just LEAVE me heah!!!!"
"Well, I kinda hafta give Race his toothbrush."
"Hand it to 'im! I'm gonna get LOOOOOOOOOONELYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!"
I sighed. "Fine." I reached out and gave Brush-Brush to Race who immediately began to rejoice and ran happily into the washroom where he began to joyfully brush his teeth next to Snipeshooter. I rolled onto my back.
We heard Skittery climb up and sit on the top bunk above us. His spoon clinked against the bowl and then we heard it: a big, loud, noisy SLURP. Spot immediately grabbed my arm and squeezed it. Hard.
He whispered, "I . . . don't like it when dey . . . slurp."
I whispered back, "I know."
"It's creepy."
"It doesn't bug me."
"Well, I don't like it."
"I know."
"Red?"
"Yeah, Spot?"
"What're you scared of?"
"Promise not to tell anyone?"
"Ya got me woid as a gennelman."
"You're a gennelman?"
"Temp'rarly."
"Oh. Well, I don't like balloons."
"Balloons?"
"Yeah."
"How come?"
"I dunno. They just look so happy and cheerful and it makes you wonder what they're REALLY all about and then there's that whole POPPING issue..." I shivered. "Hey, Spot?"
"Yeah, Red?"
"I can't feel my fingers anymore."
"Oh. Sorry." He let go of my arm. Shoot.
Specs' face peered under at us. "Hey, you two, Skittery's done eating. You can come out now."
"Oh. Okay."
We crawled out and straightened up. I smiled when I saw Spot.
"What's so funny?"
"Your nose. It's got dirt smudged on it. Go see for yourself."
He checked the mirror and had to smile himself before washing it off. Kloppah's broomstick was heard banging his ceiling (our floor) from under us. "Hey, you boys get ta sleep, ya hear? Gotta be ready for tomorrow! Carryin' da bannah!!"
"Alright, alright!" moaned Jack. "We can hear ya!"
I got the bunk above Snoddy. I sat up and looked around. It had been a good night. This really had been quite a good idea on my part. Not bad at all.
"Night, Snoddy!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Jack!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Race!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Bumlets!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Skittery!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Spot!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Mush!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Itey!"
"Night, Red!"
Well, I won't bore you anymore, but I'll have you know that I proceeded to bid each and every newsie a good night. I concluded with a loud, "NIGHT, KLOPPAH!!!!"
His response: "GO TA BED!!!"
"Red?"
"Yeah, Blink?"
"You gonna do this every night?"
"Maybe."
I got a groan for that. I take it back. I got groans for that. Many of them.
~*!ShoutOut!*~ Saturday: YAY, I'm so glad you liked it! And I am no longer hypocritical cuz Spot IS in this chapter . . . just don't let your virtual counterpart know Spot's secret, and we'll be fine . . .
Author's Note: Aaaaah, I am SOOOO sorry it took SOOOOO long to write this chapter!!!!!! I also want to note that this story is BY NO MEANS historically accurate, even though I think you've probably noticed by now . . . That's all for now, folks!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this cruel, cruel world that has to do with the newsies, including the actual newsies, who I adore FAR beyond comprehension.
Ok, so I didn't really scream. Boys don't scream. Or at least had thought so until I met Itey . . . BUT, on average, boys don't tend to scream, and that's what I had been taught, so I yelled. It was more of a surprised yell. I hopped back to Race, who was still waiting by the sink.
"Didja find it?"
"RAAAACE!!!!"
"What?"
"THERE'S A GUY UNDER YOUR BED!!!! JUST STARING BACK AT YOU!! Go, see for yourself!"
To my shock, Race didn't seem bothered or surprised by this at all. "Oh, yeah. I forgot he was unda theah."
"You . . . what?"
"C'mon."
By the time we got back to Race's bunk, the boy had already crawled out and was dusting off his pants. He stood about my height, maybe a little taller, and, like all the other newsies, he wore a cap (though his was covered in dust) and suspenders. "Red, I'd like ta introduce ya to Spot Conlon. He's the Brooklyn leada. Bad person to fight with."
"Gee, thanks, Race, make the kid terrified of me. So who's dis?"
"Dis is Red Pika. He's new. Just came today."
Spot nodded, spit into his hand, and held it out for me to shake. I spit into my own palm and shook his without hesitation. That was another thing I had learned: Never, EVER decline a spitshake. Even if it does seem awfully nasty at the time.
I wasn't sure how I felt about this Spot. His presence certainly demanded respect, and got it, too, and Race seemed pretty good friends with him, so he had to be a pretty decent guy. He had a lot of self-confidence, too, judging by his handshake. The only word I can give it is sincere. Do not ask me how a handshake is sincere but that's what comes to mind, so you can lie awake at night and try to figure it out; don't bother me.
Might I add that he was pretty damn cute.
I just had one question:
"Hey, uh, Spot?"
"Yeah, Red?"
"Um . . . what were ya doin' under Race's bed?"
Spot's face immediately went completely solemn and I think he might've blushed. He didn't exactly glare at me, but I knew I had hit a nerve.
"Gee, man, sorry, did I say somethin' wrong?"
Race, who had been lying on the floor retreiving his toothbrush, now straightened up. "Whadja say?"
"I asked Spot why he was under the bed in the first place."
Race cracked up. And I mean REALLY cracked up. In a matter of seconds he was sprawled across the bed, laughing hysterically. Eventually, face red and gasping for breath, he sat up, giggling.
I didn't get what was so funny. "Ok, so are you gonna tell me what happened or what?"
Race looked about to burst out laughing again, but a look from Spot silenced that possibility. Instead, with a smile on his face, he said, "Well, see, maybe last week oah so, we was awl hangin' out heah, playin' cahds an' awl dat stuff. Had a great time, an' Spot was dere, too. An' den, well, I guess ol' Kloppah was in a good mood dat night, cuz foist of all he didn't yell at us ta go ta bed like he usually does. But he also came up da stairs wit' da biggest tray I eva seen of . . ."
He paused and looked at Spot. "Can I tell 'im?"
Spot was looking mighty uncomfortable at this point, but he realized that Race was too far into the story to pull out, "Yeah, I guess ya might as well . . . Butcha can't laugh! Promise me dat, Red?"
"Sure. So what was on the tray, Race?"
"Well . . . it was about twenty bowls (one foah each of us) and each bowl was filled to tha brim wit'--"
Skittery flung open the door with The World's Goofiest Smile on his face. " I'SE. GOT. GREEN. JELL- O!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Spot's eyes became wide with horror and his jaw dropped ever so slightly. He instinctively grabbed his hat and dove underneath Race's bed again.
Race looked at me and sighed. "Heah we go again. Dis is exactly what happened last week. Dere ya have it. Spot Conlon, 'fearless' leada of Brooklyn is damn terrified o' Jell-O."
Spot's voice came from beneath the bed, "DON'T SAY IT!!!! DON'T SAY IT!!!!"
"What, Jell-O?" I asked.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!"
Race sighed again. "Ah, well. We'll just have ta wait until he calms down again. In da mean time, I'm gonna go brush me teeth wit—AAAAAAAH!!!!"
"What?"
"I got da wrong toothbrush! Dis ain't mine!! Dis is Snipe's!! SNIPESHOOTA!"
"What?"
"I got Spike over here!"
"YOU FOUND HIM?!?!?!" Snipeshooter was by our side in a split second and was hugging the toothbrush, something I didn't think was really possible. I mean, it's kinda small to really HUG, but he pulled it off . . . He then ran off to brush his teeth.
Race watched him with a sense of longing before bursting out, "I WANT BRUSH- BRUSH!!!!!"
I blinked. "Brush-Brush?"
"Me toothbrush! Ain'tcha eva seen Timmy da Tooth????"
"No."
"Spot move ova an' lemme get unda dere, I'se gotta get Brush-Brush!!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I bet you have . . . IT . . . an' you're gonna bring IT unda heah an' start . . . SLOIPIN' IT!!!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"
I got an idea. "Hey, Spot, can I get unda there? I don't like . . . IT."
"Ya don't?"
"Nope."
"Ok. You can come."
So I crawled under. You'd be surprised how much room there is under Race's bunk. It doesn't look very big at all, but once you get under it . . . it's pretty . . . roomy, I guess. It took me a matter of seconds to find Brush- Brush. "Ok, well, bye, Spot."
"NO! Ya can't just LEAVE me heah!!!!"
"Well, I kinda hafta give Race his toothbrush."
"Hand it to 'im! I'm gonna get LOOOOOOOOOONELYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!"
I sighed. "Fine." I reached out and gave Brush-Brush to Race who immediately began to rejoice and ran happily into the washroom where he began to joyfully brush his teeth next to Snipeshooter. I rolled onto my back.
We heard Skittery climb up and sit on the top bunk above us. His spoon clinked against the bowl and then we heard it: a big, loud, noisy SLURP. Spot immediately grabbed my arm and squeezed it. Hard.
He whispered, "I . . . don't like it when dey . . . slurp."
I whispered back, "I know."
"It's creepy."
"It doesn't bug me."
"Well, I don't like it."
"I know."
"Red?"
"Yeah, Spot?"
"What're you scared of?"
"Promise not to tell anyone?"
"Ya got me woid as a gennelman."
"You're a gennelman?"
"Temp'rarly."
"Oh. Well, I don't like balloons."
"Balloons?"
"Yeah."
"How come?"
"I dunno. They just look so happy and cheerful and it makes you wonder what they're REALLY all about and then there's that whole POPPING issue..." I shivered. "Hey, Spot?"
"Yeah, Red?"
"I can't feel my fingers anymore."
"Oh. Sorry." He let go of my arm. Shoot.
Specs' face peered under at us. "Hey, you two, Skittery's done eating. You can come out now."
"Oh. Okay."
We crawled out and straightened up. I smiled when I saw Spot.
"What's so funny?"
"Your nose. It's got dirt smudged on it. Go see for yourself."
He checked the mirror and had to smile himself before washing it off. Kloppah's broomstick was heard banging his ceiling (our floor) from under us. "Hey, you boys get ta sleep, ya hear? Gotta be ready for tomorrow! Carryin' da bannah!!"
"Alright, alright!" moaned Jack. "We can hear ya!"
I got the bunk above Snoddy. I sat up and looked around. It had been a good night. This really had been quite a good idea on my part. Not bad at all.
"Night, Snoddy!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Jack!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Race!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Bumlets!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Skittery!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Spot!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Mush!"
"Night, Red!"
"Night, Itey!"
"Night, Red!"
Well, I won't bore you anymore, but I'll have you know that I proceeded to bid each and every newsie a good night. I concluded with a loud, "NIGHT, KLOPPAH!!!!"
His response: "GO TA BED!!!"
"Red?"
"Yeah, Blink?"
"You gonna do this every night?"
"Maybe."
I got a groan for that. I take it back. I got groans for that. Many of them.
~*!ShoutOut!*~ Saturday: YAY, I'm so glad you liked it! And I am no longer hypocritical cuz Spot IS in this chapter . . . just don't let your virtual counterpart know Spot's secret, and we'll be fine . . .
Author's Note: Aaaaah, I am SOOOO sorry it took SOOOOO long to write this chapter!!!!!! I also want to note that this story is BY NO MEANS historically accurate, even though I think you've probably noticed by now . . . That's all for now, folks!