A/N: Yeah, I realize it's been FOREVER since I updated this fic, but…y'all still love me, right? 'Course you do. ((nervous chuckle as !Muses advance)) I'm sorry I didn't update sooner! I still love you guys!

RandomSpecs!Muse: We know. We just felt like doing that.

ME: ((passes out))

AssholeRace!Muse: Read it and review, ya scabbas, or we'll soak ya!

Ch. 5-Greetings From Hell

I was actually surprised that the administration was letting us go an hour away from the school, but as Smartass said, "Where the hell else would we go? All our stuff is here. Besides, it's not so bad."

Eh.

So off we went to Cleveland. Now, there were about 30 of us, so we had to take a couple of the school's cars. Liz and Smartass were among the drivers.

Hoo boy.

Did I mention Liz has a lead foot on the accelerator? Yee-haw!

In her car were me, Dutchy (who was tapping out his own little rhythm 'till I screamed at him to stop), and (shudder) Spot. Who was actually behaving rather well, to be honest. I was kind of surprised. Not to mention a little suspicious.

The CD player was blasting out U2, right now it was, '(Pride) In The Name Of Love'. Good song. It was also good in Moulin Rouge. Yes, I've seen that movie. Don't look at me like that.

"In the name of love! What more in the name of love!" belted Dutchy, who was riding shotgun. "In the name of love! What more in the name of love!"

"Dutchy."

"Hmm?"

"You are not Bono. Please shut up. I mean, you've got a great voice, but…you are not Bono. Besides, you always sing along. One time won't kill ya. Please?"

Dutchy rolled his eyes but ceased singing. "Thanks babe."

Spot rolled his eyes.

"What was that for?" I whispered, nudging him.

He shook his head and put a finger to his lips. "Tell you later."

"When's later?"

"When we get there."

"Oh."

This turned out to be about 20 minutes later, with Liz driving the way that she did. Once we found everybody else, we, of course, had a fight over which bar to go to first. Spot, Blink, and Dave all wanted to go to a gay bar. The vast majority wanted to go to this place called 'Pixel Perfect', where you could get smashed while playing Dance Dance Revolution. The majority eventually won out, with the promise that we'd go to a gay bar in a little while.

Which, by the way, was what Dutchy, Liz, and I had started singing as we made our way up the street.

"IN A LITTLE WHILE! SURELY YOU'LL BE MINE! IN A LITTLE WHILE I'LL BE THERE!"

"SHUT UP!" yelled out 20 voices.

Yeesh. You'd think they didn't like U2, or sommat. When I voiced this to Smartass, she laughed.

"It's not that, Race" she said, throwing her arm around my shoulders as we wound our way up the avenue. "But Izzy owns, like, all their CD's, and plays them uber-loud all the time, AND she sings along. So…that's all."

"Oh."

"We're HERE!" yelled Izzy, running inside. "Dibs on Donkey Conga!"

"Oohoohooh, me too!" Spitfire yelled, close on her heels.

"I just want a drink!" I shouted.

"Me too!" chorused others behind me. So we gravitated toward the bar, flashed our (very fake) ID's, and ordered drinks.

"Hits the spot" I said, knocking back a shot of Jack Daniels. This loosened me up a bit, and I started chatting with Igby, whom everyone seemed to be ignoring.

"So…Igby…what's up?"

She looked at me like I was crazy. "Uhm…not much. How 'bout you?"

"Nothing, really. School's OK. Band's cool. Snyder's an asshole."

She gave me a small smile. "D'you know, he once called me a Japanese freak to my face?"

"Really?"

"You have no idea."

"Guess not. You like sushi?"

"Eh. It's OK. Kinda wriggly, almost too fresh for me." Then she laughed. "Is your mom one of those stereotypical Italian moms with long hair, cooks a lot, and sings opera around the house?"

"All that, and she's properly superstitious, and a good Catholic."

Her heavily lined eyes widened. "Wow. And I was just kidding. Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Suddenly, we heard shouts, laughter, and the sound of a smack upside the head. Izzy and Liz had been playing Donky Konga, and they couldn't agree who won.

"Izzy cheated!" Liz yelled.

"I did NOT!" Izzy retorted. "You grabbed my hand in the middle of a combo! You're the cheater!"
Then they began smacking each other upside the head. Again.

"Will you two quit it!" Jack said, coming up behind them. "God doesn't like it when you fight. He cries when His children fight."

"Shut up, Jackie-boi" we said in unison.

"Is he on his soapbox again?" drawled a new girl, coming up to us. "Paige Hamilton, call me Lucky", she said, shaking my hand. There was a tattoo of four aces from each suit on her left shoulder.

"A CARD PLAYER!" I yelled, tackling her into a massive hug. "THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK"-

"Oh, shut up" she said, laughing and peeling me off of her. "You any good?" she asked.

"Undefeated champion of The Unofficial Little Italy Poker Tournament five years running" I said proudly. "Beat out the Don one year, but then he quit coming."

"What…the Don, like…the head of…The Mob?"

"Well…yeah" I finished quietly, fidgeting a little bit. "But don't tell anyone."

She looked impressed. "Little Italy's famous for its poker tourneys. I watched one on Bravo once. I'm holding one next weekend. You in?"

"Absolutely! By the way, all y'all are going down."

"In your dreams!"

"The Poker King, The Poker King, oh yes, I am The Poker King!" I sang.

She smacked me and started to laugh. "Shut up, dork!" she said, laughing at my half-drunk antics.

"I'm not a dork. YOU are" I replied, breaking into a half-jig, half-waltz.

"I don't even wanna know" said Two-Bits, coming up behind me and ordering a shot of tequila. She knocked it back without batting an eyelash, and I must say, I was duly impressed.

"I'm not exactly a ladylike drinker" she said, noticing my expression.

"I never would've guessed" I said dryly, taking another swallow of beer.

"Ya know, you're gonna take over Smartass's job if you're not careful" said Lucky, raising her eyebrows at me.

"And I care…why?" I said, winking at her. She just laughed and ordered another Black Russian.

"Let's go watch the DDR machines, shall we?" I said, jokingly offering her my arm. She laughed but played along, slipping her hand around my elbow, and we meandered over to the DDR machines.

Spot and Blink were engaging in a strip-DDR contest, and, as Blink apparently sucks at DDR, he was wearing nothing more than a pair of SpongeBob boxers and a Nebraska Huskers hat.

I let out a wolf whistle. "Woo-hoo, sex-ay!" called Lucky, throwing a quarter at him. It hit him in the head, and when the song had finished, he looked down.

"A quarter? That's all I'm worth! A lousy QUARTER!"

"Apparently" said Izzy, laughing. The next song was starting, so Blink didn't have time to respond. So he settled for sticking his tongue out at her instead. Spot won (Quelle surprise!), and Blink threw his hat on top of a pile of his pants, shirt, and shoes.

"You know" said Spitfire, in between laughing fits, "Blink's never gonna live this down. He's drunk as hell, thankfully, he'll never remember."

"How much have you had to drink, anyway, Race?" Lucky asked, peering at me.

I shook my glass at her. "'S my third."

"It's capped" she said, pulling it away from me.

"Fuck off" I said, slurring the second word.

Then I passed out.

END CHAPTER

A/N: All my chapters where the Newsies go out drinking seem to end with at LEAST one person drinking too much and passing out. Hmm…another recurring theme, perhaps? XD