Everyone sat around in silence, each one working on his own article. Race
looked around at his associates. Jack, who looked deep in consideration,
had a stack of what looked about twenty papers in front of him; Spot and
Blink who were whispering quietly to one another, clearly writing an
article on one of their adventures to the future; Mush who was sitting on
the floor was scribbling on his notepad, stopping for a second to think,
then started to scribble something onto the paper again.
It's been at slightest three weeks since Mr. Hunters first offered him the
job of writing for his newspaper. Race looked down at his paper, which
hadn't been touched yet by the tip of his pencil.
"NO SPOT! WE CAN'T PUT DAT IN THERE!" Race heard Blink howling at Spot.
"Why not Blink? No one'll know it was us!" assumed Spot.
"Shh." Mush shushed the two boys.
There was silence once again in the room, to much silence that Racetrack couldn't stand it to any further extent. He gathered his writing gear and his hat, placing the hat on his head, Racetrack walked out the door. Race shut the door behind him, walking in to the cloudy but warm Manhattan city. No one paying any heed that he was absent from the cafe. Racetrack walking his customary side road to the racetracks. He was passing through a dark, narrow ally when a boy, who looked faintly older then Jack, approached him. The boy had a faintly bigger build the Jack did as well.
"You Higgins?" The boy asked.
"Depends, Do you picture me to look like him?" Race stuck his chest out.
"Are you being smart to me kid?" the boy asked.
"No really, If I look like the famous Racetrack Higgins It would be a great honor." Race smiled.
The boy glared at him, "Do you know this Racetrack Higgins?"
"Never hoid of him!" Race shrugged, "Why ya lookin' for 'im?"
"Yes, I'm lookin' for him. What do you think?" The boy snared.
"I think I can help ya." Race smirked, "Whatcha ya want with 'im?
The boy shrugged, "Just want to talk to a great gambler."
"Is he really that good?" Race asked, pretending he had by no means heard of himself before now, although he already had said it would be a great honor to look like 'the famous Racetrack Higgins'.
"He's superior to any gambler I've ever met." The boy said turning to face the end of the ally, "See ya Higgins."
"How'd ya know it was me?" Race asked dropping his paper and pencil.
"Well, how would it be a great honor to look like someone you've never heard of?" The boy asked turning around to face the shaken Racetrack again. "And besides," he pointed to Race's chest, "You have a nametag on that says 'Hello, my name is Racetrack Higgins, I's da bestest gambler evah, and I's works for Hunters'."
"Oh.. Ya.." Race looked at his feet, "What do ya want with me?"
"You work for Hunters right?" The boy asked.
"You read my nametag didn't ya? Why d'ya want ta know?" Race asked.
The kid smirked, "So, ya evah been ta Vegas?"
"Vegas? Neva heard of it." Race answered, taking of his nametag as he mumbled something about it taking away his secret identity.
"Oh, you should ask that person wit da eye-patch 'bout it." The boy turned around and walked off.
Race shook his head, "That was weird." He said out loud before continuing onwards to Sheepsheads.
* * *
Meanwhile, back at the café.
"SPOT! I told you we can't write about that!" Blink yelled once more.
"Be quiet, I's tryin' ta draw." Mush mumbled, making an up and down movement on the paper.
Spot grinned an evil grin, he had an idea, a wonderful idea, a horrible idea. Spot Conlon had a wonderful horrible idea. Spot walked over and grabbed the paper from Mush.
"Hey dat's mine." Mush whined. "Hunty, tell 'im to give it back."
"Spot! Give it back to your younger brother." Hunters told Spot as a mother would tell her fighting sons.
"But Mom, he needs ta share." Spot complained.
"Ya, We's shares in dis house don't we, Ma." Blink put in smiling as he took the paper from Spot. Mush however had forgotten that Spot had his paper and was now drawing on the floor.
Hunters looked over to Mush, "Mush Meyers, how many times have I told you not to draw on the ground young man."
Mush looked up at Hunters innocently, "But, I'm not drawing on the ground, I's drawing on my paper."
Blink grinned as he held up Mush's paper, "You mean this paper."
"Yup. Wait, BLINK! Why did you steal my paper when Hunty was yelling at me?" Mush looked at Blink angrily.
"What were ya drawin' anyway Mushee?" Blink asked looking at the paper.
"My Best Friend." Mush proclaimed proudly.
"But Mush, it doesn't look like me." Blink said looking at the paper, which was shaped like a box.
"Dat's cuz it's not you Blink! It's my bestest best friend Sue, Mary Sue.. he's a box." Mush proclaimed then spat on his hand and rubbed it on the duct-taped box.
"Well, dat's nice, I'm being replaced by a box," Blink moped
Spot wrapped an arm around Blink's shoulders, "It's okay. You still have me."
Blink stared at Spot, "But I don't want YOU to be my best friend!"
"Your being a real jerk taday Blink, and if I's didn't know better, I'd think you were from Brooklyn." Spot complained.
"Come on Mush, I haveta be betta den da stupid box, oy, don't tell me ya jist sore 'cuz Spot and I are friends. Your just kidding right? I'm your best friend still, ain't I?" Blink tried to convince Mush.
Mush continued whispering to the box about how mean his old best friend was.
Spot began to curse under his breath. Blink, who was ignoring Spot and trying to ignore Mush, looked to Hunters, "So, Ma, where's our LITTLEST brother Race?" By littlest, Blink meant short.
* * *
"But I LOVE YOU!!" Race screamed running.
"NO SPOT! WE CAN'T PUT DAT IN THERE!" Race heard Blink howling at Spot.
"Why not Blink? No one'll know it was us!" assumed Spot.
"Shh." Mush shushed the two boys.
There was silence once again in the room, to much silence that Racetrack couldn't stand it to any further extent. He gathered his writing gear and his hat, placing the hat on his head, Racetrack walked out the door. Race shut the door behind him, walking in to the cloudy but warm Manhattan city. No one paying any heed that he was absent from the cafe. Racetrack walking his customary side road to the racetracks. He was passing through a dark, narrow ally when a boy, who looked faintly older then Jack, approached him. The boy had a faintly bigger build the Jack did as well.
"You Higgins?" The boy asked.
"Depends, Do you picture me to look like him?" Race stuck his chest out.
"Are you being smart to me kid?" the boy asked.
"No really, If I look like the famous Racetrack Higgins It would be a great honor." Race smiled.
The boy glared at him, "Do you know this Racetrack Higgins?"
"Never hoid of him!" Race shrugged, "Why ya lookin' for 'im?"
"Yes, I'm lookin' for him. What do you think?" The boy snared.
"I think I can help ya." Race smirked, "Whatcha ya want with 'im?
The boy shrugged, "Just want to talk to a great gambler."
"Is he really that good?" Race asked, pretending he had by no means heard of himself before now, although he already had said it would be a great honor to look like 'the famous Racetrack Higgins'.
"He's superior to any gambler I've ever met." The boy said turning to face the end of the ally, "See ya Higgins."
"How'd ya know it was me?" Race asked dropping his paper and pencil.
"Well, how would it be a great honor to look like someone you've never heard of?" The boy asked turning around to face the shaken Racetrack again. "And besides," he pointed to Race's chest, "You have a nametag on that says 'Hello, my name is Racetrack Higgins, I's da bestest gambler evah, and I's works for Hunters'."
"Oh.. Ya.." Race looked at his feet, "What do ya want with me?"
"You work for Hunters right?" The boy asked.
"You read my nametag didn't ya? Why d'ya want ta know?" Race asked.
The kid smirked, "So, ya evah been ta Vegas?"
"Vegas? Neva heard of it." Race answered, taking of his nametag as he mumbled something about it taking away his secret identity.
"Oh, you should ask that person wit da eye-patch 'bout it." The boy turned around and walked off.
Race shook his head, "That was weird." He said out loud before continuing onwards to Sheepsheads.
* * *
Meanwhile, back at the café.
"SPOT! I told you we can't write about that!" Blink yelled once more.
"Be quiet, I's tryin' ta draw." Mush mumbled, making an up and down movement on the paper.
Spot grinned an evil grin, he had an idea, a wonderful idea, a horrible idea. Spot Conlon had a wonderful horrible idea. Spot walked over and grabbed the paper from Mush.
"Hey dat's mine." Mush whined. "Hunty, tell 'im to give it back."
"Spot! Give it back to your younger brother." Hunters told Spot as a mother would tell her fighting sons.
"But Mom, he needs ta share." Spot complained.
"Ya, We's shares in dis house don't we, Ma." Blink put in smiling as he took the paper from Spot. Mush however had forgotten that Spot had his paper and was now drawing on the floor.
Hunters looked over to Mush, "Mush Meyers, how many times have I told you not to draw on the ground young man."
Mush looked up at Hunters innocently, "But, I'm not drawing on the ground, I's drawing on my paper."
Blink grinned as he held up Mush's paper, "You mean this paper."
"Yup. Wait, BLINK! Why did you steal my paper when Hunty was yelling at me?" Mush looked at Blink angrily.
"What were ya drawin' anyway Mushee?" Blink asked looking at the paper.
"My Best Friend." Mush proclaimed proudly.
"But Mush, it doesn't look like me." Blink said looking at the paper, which was shaped like a box.
"Dat's cuz it's not you Blink! It's my bestest best friend Sue, Mary Sue.. he's a box." Mush proclaimed then spat on his hand and rubbed it on the duct-taped box.
"Well, dat's nice, I'm being replaced by a box," Blink moped
Spot wrapped an arm around Blink's shoulders, "It's okay. You still have me."
Blink stared at Spot, "But I don't want YOU to be my best friend!"
"Your being a real jerk taday Blink, and if I's didn't know better, I'd think you were from Brooklyn." Spot complained.
"Come on Mush, I haveta be betta den da stupid box, oy, don't tell me ya jist sore 'cuz Spot and I are friends. Your just kidding right? I'm your best friend still, ain't I?" Blink tried to convince Mush.
Mush continued whispering to the box about how mean his old best friend was.
Spot began to curse under his breath. Blink, who was ignoring Spot and trying to ignore Mush, looked to Hunters, "So, Ma, where's our LITTLEST brother Race?" By littlest, Blink meant short.
* * *
"But I LOVE YOU!!" Race screamed running.