Snipeshooter rubbed his sleepy eyes, dragging his last remaining paper
behind him lazily. /Bed...bed...bed.../ Echoed over and over in his weary
mind. /Sure wish I had a ciggy...a cigar...sumptin'.../
He reached the Lodging House after what felt like hours. He pushed open the door with what little strength he had and carried the paper up the, now seemingly very steep, staircase. Flopping down on his bed, he landed on a cardboard box laying haphazardly on his bed.
"What da..."
He rolled to one side and lifted the box off his bed. He slowly read the cover. "Ahundred poicent true Havana..." His voice trailed off as he finished reading the box and lifted the lid. He took out the small scrap of paper laying inside and inhaled the sweet scent of the box's contents.
Dear Snipes, thought you'd enjoy these. If you want more, go down to the corner, they're only a quarter.
/Havana cigars dat cost a quahter.../
* * *
David entered the bunkers in the midst of a rousing game of Gin Rummy, with Racetrack on the verge of practically almost possibly winning. He glanced down at Mush's feet curiously, but stayed silent; continuing on his way. He took note of the huge cardboard box under Sipeshooter's arm, but again, he said nothing. He didn't even say anything about Boot's new suit that seemingly came from nowhere, or when Blink ran into him without noticing, a giant sappy grin plastered across his face. But when he passed Spot, whose hands were more wrinkled than his great-aunt Mildred's, he had to speak up.
Spot didn't reply; he simply looked up at him lazily, a grin stretching across his face.
David scratched his head and looked around for Jack, but couldn't see him anywhere. "Where is he?" He mumbled to no one in particular.
Les strolled in the door, smiling ear to ear. "Heya Davey!" He ran to his brother and wrapped his arms around David's waist.
"Les! Where've you been?! Ma's worried sick, and pa's nearly beside himself!"
"Gee, I'se sorry Dave."
"An' quit talkin' like that!"
Les screwed up his face in question. "Like what Dave?"
David sighed. "Never mind, where's Jack?"
Les rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "He put an egg in 'is shoe an' beat it. How'm I s'possed ta know where he is? I ain't his keepah." His face softened. "But I think he'll be back soon...at least, I hope so..."
"So, where were you?"
"At the movies, like you told me ta be."
David sighed again. "Where?" His eyes searched Les's face. "Lester Evan Jacobs! I meant to wait for me /out/side!" He yelled, drawing the attention of quite a few newsies.
Les's eyes opened wide and he slapped his hand over David's mouth. "Shh!"
"Don't shush me Les," He insisted, prying off his hand. "Why were you inside?"
"Don't be mad David, listen! When I gots inside, da manager took me ta dis mezzanine seat! And he said dat it was mine! Just like I always wanted!"
David furrowed his eyebrows again. "I don't...are you sure?"
Les rolled his eyes again. "Yeah I'se sure."
"Why?"
He shrugged slightly. "How'm I s'possed ta know?" He repeated, grabbing Dave around the waist again. "Alls I know is, I'se got my wish! I t'ink it's 'cause 'a Adri!"
David unlatched his brother from around his waist and walked, confused, over to Mush. He inquired about the shoes.
"I dunno Davey, dey was just by me bed when I woke up dis mornin'."
The valley between David's brows grew deeper as he stalked over to Snipeshooter.
"What about you?"
Snipeshooter took one of the two cigars out of his mouth. "Whadda ya mean?" Came his muffled question.
David grabbed the box. "I mean this!" He shouted, raising it above his head.
The room grew suddenly silent, everyone sitting deathly still. Spot made a motion as if to get up, but thought better of it.
"What's with the new shoes? The cigars? The new suits! The sappy grins on everyone's faces?!" David tossed the cigar box back to Snipes, a few spilling on the floor.
At that moment, Jack walked in the door.
"And where the /hell/ have you been?!" David screamed.
Jack flinched. "Woah...hey Davey-boy, youse okay?"
David collapsed on a nearby bed and ran a hand through his hair. "No..." He said meakly.
"Consider yaself lucky I'se in such a good mood Dave...Heya Spot." He waved happily at Brooklyn. He sat on the bed next to David. "So, what's da problem?"
David gazed at Jack, bleary-eyed. "I don't understand what's goin' on!"
"Ya mean wid all da stuff?" Jack gestured around the room, and to himself.
David nodded, peering curiously at Jack's new coat, shoes, and suspenders. "Well, that and the sappy grins on everyone's faces...." He grumbled.
Jack's lips tightened into a sympathetic smile. "Dave...rememba' back durin' da strike?"
David nodded wordlessly.
"Well, remembah how we'se was always goin' around singin'?" He didn't wait for a reply, he knew the answer was yes. "When we was in Tibby's wid Denton...da second time...ya remembah da song we was singin'?"
David nodded slowly, the realization slowly dawning on him. "And that's what...Adri meant?"
Jack smiled in agreement.
Dave jumped off the bed, excited. "Well that's great!" He glanced around hurriedly. "Where's /my/ stuff?"
Race scratched his head with his cards and gazed up at him from the floor. "Dave...poihaps ya could recall what you sang in dat pahticulah little numbah..."
David's smile slowly faded as the realization, once again, finally came to him. "So does that mean that...Oh...my...God...I just wasted my hard earned wish on..."
A haunting voice danced around in David's skull: /An editor's desk for the star reporter.../
David's screams rang out across New York, quickly followed by the stifled laughter of the Manhattan newsies.
He reached the Lodging House after what felt like hours. He pushed open the door with what little strength he had and carried the paper up the, now seemingly very steep, staircase. Flopping down on his bed, he landed on a cardboard box laying haphazardly on his bed.
"What da..."
He rolled to one side and lifted the box off his bed. He slowly read the cover. "Ahundred poicent true Havana..." His voice trailed off as he finished reading the box and lifted the lid. He took out the small scrap of paper laying inside and inhaled the sweet scent of the box's contents.
Dear Snipes, thought you'd enjoy these. If you want more, go down to the corner, they're only a quarter.
/Havana cigars dat cost a quahter.../
* * *
David entered the bunkers in the midst of a rousing game of Gin Rummy, with Racetrack on the verge of practically almost possibly winning. He glanced down at Mush's feet curiously, but stayed silent; continuing on his way. He took note of the huge cardboard box under Sipeshooter's arm, but again, he said nothing. He didn't even say anything about Boot's new suit that seemingly came from nowhere, or when Blink ran into him without noticing, a giant sappy grin plastered across his face. But when he passed Spot, whose hands were more wrinkled than his great-aunt Mildred's, he had to speak up.
Spot didn't reply; he simply looked up at him lazily, a grin stretching across his face.
David scratched his head and looked around for Jack, but couldn't see him anywhere. "Where is he?" He mumbled to no one in particular.
Les strolled in the door, smiling ear to ear. "Heya Davey!" He ran to his brother and wrapped his arms around David's waist.
"Les! Where've you been?! Ma's worried sick, and pa's nearly beside himself!"
"Gee, I'se sorry Dave."
"An' quit talkin' like that!"
Les screwed up his face in question. "Like what Dave?"
David sighed. "Never mind, where's Jack?"
Les rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "He put an egg in 'is shoe an' beat it. How'm I s'possed ta know where he is? I ain't his keepah." His face softened. "But I think he'll be back soon...at least, I hope so..."
"So, where were you?"
"At the movies, like you told me ta be."
David sighed again. "Where?" His eyes searched Les's face. "Lester Evan Jacobs! I meant to wait for me /out/side!" He yelled, drawing the attention of quite a few newsies.
Les's eyes opened wide and he slapped his hand over David's mouth. "Shh!"
"Don't shush me Les," He insisted, prying off his hand. "Why were you inside?"
"Don't be mad David, listen! When I gots inside, da manager took me ta dis mezzanine seat! And he said dat it was mine! Just like I always wanted!"
David furrowed his eyebrows again. "I don't...are you sure?"
Les rolled his eyes again. "Yeah I'se sure."
"Why?"
He shrugged slightly. "How'm I s'possed ta know?" He repeated, grabbing Dave around the waist again. "Alls I know is, I'se got my wish! I t'ink it's 'cause 'a Adri!"
David unlatched his brother from around his waist and walked, confused, over to Mush. He inquired about the shoes.
"I dunno Davey, dey was just by me bed when I woke up dis mornin'."
The valley between David's brows grew deeper as he stalked over to Snipeshooter.
"What about you?"
Snipeshooter took one of the two cigars out of his mouth. "Whadda ya mean?" Came his muffled question.
David grabbed the box. "I mean this!" He shouted, raising it above his head.
The room grew suddenly silent, everyone sitting deathly still. Spot made a motion as if to get up, but thought better of it.
"What's with the new shoes? The cigars? The new suits! The sappy grins on everyone's faces?!" David tossed the cigar box back to Snipes, a few spilling on the floor.
At that moment, Jack walked in the door.
"And where the /hell/ have you been?!" David screamed.
Jack flinched. "Woah...hey Davey-boy, youse okay?"
David collapsed on a nearby bed and ran a hand through his hair. "No..." He said meakly.
"Consider yaself lucky I'se in such a good mood Dave...Heya Spot." He waved happily at Brooklyn. He sat on the bed next to David. "So, what's da problem?"
David gazed at Jack, bleary-eyed. "I don't understand what's goin' on!"
"Ya mean wid all da stuff?" Jack gestured around the room, and to himself.
David nodded, peering curiously at Jack's new coat, shoes, and suspenders. "Well, that and the sappy grins on everyone's faces...." He grumbled.
Jack's lips tightened into a sympathetic smile. "Dave...rememba' back durin' da strike?"
David nodded wordlessly.
"Well, remembah how we'se was always goin' around singin'?" He didn't wait for a reply, he knew the answer was yes. "When we was in Tibby's wid Denton...da second time...ya remembah da song we was singin'?"
David nodded slowly, the realization slowly dawning on him. "And that's what...Adri meant?"
Jack smiled in agreement.
Dave jumped off the bed, excited. "Well that's great!" He glanced around hurriedly. "Where's /my/ stuff?"
Race scratched his head with his cards and gazed up at him from the floor. "Dave...poihaps ya could recall what you sang in dat pahticulah little numbah..."
David's smile slowly faded as the realization, once again, finally came to him. "So does that mean that...Oh...my...God...I just wasted my hard earned wish on..."
A haunting voice danced around in David's skull: /An editor's desk for the star reporter.../
David's screams rang out across New York, quickly followed by the stifled laughter of the Manhattan newsies.