You know, I would explain my absence again, but, since you are all capable of clicking a mouse button, I shall just advise you to read my other stories. And it doesn't hurt if I get a review out of it either. ((coughcough))
SHOUT OUTS!
Hollywood: Meh, don't worry about it. As long as you read the last chapter, it doesn't matter. Caitlyn is an evil bitch. I was trying to make you hate her. She's sort of a Sue. But it's okay, because you're not supposed to like her. Thanks for the review!
Racetrack's dealer: OMG, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW OFTEN I CALL QUEEN MY LOVER! I'm completely obsessed with Queen. I can't believe I still don't have the Classic Queen album. I've heard of (and love) all those Queen songs except Sheer Heart Attack. I'll download it. Actually, my list exactly matches yours except I would put The Show Must Go On in place of Sheer Heart Attack. Oh, and, while I love Nature Boy, I would also put Under Pressure on that list. It's Queen AND Bowie! Best of two worlds! But I can't possibly rank my Queen songs. I love them all. Queen is just fantasticness. I've TOTALLY heard of Queen the Musical. I thought about asking my mom to buy tickets, but then I was like, "It might ruin Queen for me. It sounds too weird." Have you seen it? If so, tell me how it is! I'm not a fan of coffee, but at two cents a cup, I might just have to take it up. The urge to burst into Bohemian Rhapsody is quite tempting... We'll see. Thanks for the review!
ducks-go-quack-00: I wish I knew Craig and Tibby. They'd be my best friends. Old men are so cool with their sweaters and their checkers and such. ((cuddles Tibby)) Killer Queen is awesomeness! Thanks for the review!
Elphie: I'd sell you all my pretty dresses and I'd STILL be more awesome! So there! Jack is so lovably stupid. Or "stoopid" as Race would say. Oh, you poor, uneducated cretin. Oh, not you, Elphie, I meant Race. Tibby's the coolest. DAMN HOMEWORK! Well, now that it's summertime, you don't have to worry about icky homework getting in the way! Thanks for the review!
andthenyouwokeup: Hey, when did you change your name? Hah, going outside is overrated. Who needs fresh air when you can stare at a computer screen all day? I know it was a long time ago, but I'm so glad you liked your birthday fic! That was a lot of fun to write. And it was my first Spot fic! No, forget itty bitty, Caitlyn IS a Sue. She's totally a Sue. But it's okay because I'm not making her the focus of attention and you're not supposed to like her. You're supposed to HATE her with a fiery passion, as I do. Long-term storage place? Hmm, I could look into that. Mush, how do you feel about a vacation? Oh, I have many plot problems. Actually, I have problems in general, but no one cares about that. BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY IS THE BEST SONG IN THE HISTORY OF MUSIC! Seriously, it's one of my favourite songs of all time. Who hasn't seen Wayne's World? Those people are losers. NO! DO NOT SHORTEN YOUR REVIEWS! I adore long, babbly reviews. They make me laugh and entertain me. They make me feel like my work and I are appreciated. Tibby's the greatest. I wish he was my best friend. ((hums)) Thanks for the review!
Disclaimer: (Hey, you know what I just thought of? It would be terribly funny if someone had Disclaimer as their pen name so that if people went to write them a shout out...never mind, it's funny in my head) I own Caitlyn and Tibby and Craig and any other currently nameless characters that might find their way into this chapter. Everything else belongs to Disney. Damn corporate machine.
Jack Kelly was at the restaurant every night for a week before he finally asked me if I had a couch he could sleep on in my apartment above the building. I agreed immediately; I was a bit worried about the poor kid's health, truthfully, sleeping in those booths.
And every day that week, I overheard newsies speaking in hushed tones of Mush's condition. From what I could gather, he was looking worse every day. His wounds weren't healing, he was constantly leaking some bodily fluid and the doctor couldn't give him any more medication. No one had enough money to take him to the hospital to be looked at, so Kloppman was forsaking a bed in the lodging house for Mush's stay.
I like Kloppman. He and I get along real well.
That's not the point. Every day, Mush was looking a little paler, his voice sounded a little weaker and he had a little less energy. He was hardly eating anything and, on top of everything, he was coming down with a cold.
The morning's cold and bleak as I make my way downstairs. The couch in my apartment is empty and I'm assuming that Jack has already departed, as usual. I'm surprised to see him behind the counter in the kitchen, making waffles.
"Mornin'!" he says to me brightly, scraping the last bit of mix into the waffle iron. He seems to be enjoying himself as he bustles around the kitchen, throwing together ingredients and whistling a happy tune.
"Good morning." I take my usual seat at the counter and sip the coffee that's already poured for me. The hardships of old age are a little more bearable with a steaming cup of coffee in my hand.
"Listen, uh, I nevah got tah thank you for lettin' me stay heah last night," Jack says, taking his attention away from the waffles and leaning over the counter. "So, uh...thanks."
"No problem," I say, sipping my coffee. "Your waffles are burning." Jack turns back in panic and, sure enough, a steady plume of smoke is rising from the waffle iron. Jack wrenches it open, pulls out a blackened waffle and throws it in the trash.
"No big deal," Jack says nonchalantly. "I'll just have toast." He throws a piece of bread on the frier and leans back over the counter. "So, uh, listen. I ain't goin' back to da lodgin' house foah a long time, so I was wonderin' if I could stay wid you? I'll pay you back! I'll help you out heah!" Jack grabs a broom and starts attacking the floor with it as if to show me how helpful he can be. I mull this over.
"All right. But I'm not letting you near the kitchen. You can wait tables," I inform him, draining the last of my coffee. Jack seems to be okay with this and sticks out a hand.
"Jack Kelly," he tells me proudly. I take his hand.
"Joseph Tibby. Welcome." I shake his hand firmly and hand him my mug. "You can start with the dishes." Jack grumbles good naturedly, letting his toast turn to charcoal on the stove and getting to the dishes left over from yesterday.
The bell above the door tinkles and in walks my first customers of the day: the increasingly familiar Racetrack Higgins, flanked by Kid Blink and Skittery. Just as the door shuts, the bell tinkles again and my only female waitress enters, apron slung over her shoulder.
"Sorry I'm late, Tibbs," Megan tells me, rapidly tying the apron around her waist.
"Not at all," I tell her, sipping my second coffee. "Go see what those gentlemen want." Megan nods, knots the ties behind her back and walks over to the boys' table with a huge, plastered smile. From here, I can see a cigarette poking out of her back pocket and a dribble of what looks like spit running down the front of her shirt. Megan was the frazzled single mother of a six-month old boy and, at twenty-one, she was already working two jobs while Jacob stayed at her cousin's apartment. I knew from lengthy discussions on slow days that she was struggling to make ends meet and, between her job here and her employment at the factory, she barely had time for a son. Many times, she'd thought about adoption, but one look at little Jacob and no human could bear to part with that.
For once, I couldn't hear what the boys were saying, thanks to Jack making a large racket behind me, but it doesn't look like Megan was very happy. She stormed back over, hands clenched and teeth gritted.
"I have to put up with every pick-up line in the book and these clowns only order a cup of coffee each?" she spits rhetorically. "Hey! New guy! Gimme three cups 'a joe!" she yells to Jack. He pours them carefully and places them on the counter.
"There you go. And my name is Jack."
"Don't care." Megan grabs the mugs and, balancing them carefully, carries the brimming cups to the table. She plunks herself beside me on the stool at the counter and sighs. "Is it too early to take a break?"
"I'm afraid so, Megan," I inform her gently. "But it looks like it'll be a slow day, so you can relax a bit." Megan props an elbow up on the counter and rests her head in her palm. "So how's Jacob doing?"
"Oh, he's fine," she answers me with closed eyes. "He's bonding real well with my cousin Tim. I'm just worried that he'll bond too well." She sits upright. "Tibbs, am I crazy? Working two jobs? I got a six-month old kid and I hardly ever see him except for at night, when he won't stop crying and all I wanna do is sleep. Should I just give him up?"
"Megan, dear, we've been over this," I tell her gently. "I'm not a social worker."
"I know, I just wish I could get away from this. From...New York," she sighs hopelessly.
"I know what you mean," Jack says softly behind me, midwash. Megan turns around and glares at him.
"I don't remember asking for your opinion," she snaps at him. Jack looks offended momentarily, then returns to washing dishes. I'm about to retell her the age old story of how I came to own a restaurant when the door bursts open again. A hush falls over the table of previously rowdy boys and they stare up at the tall, skinny form that just entered the shop. He looks around at the boys and says very quietly:
"Boys. Mush is dead."
Oh, can you bear it? The drama! The horror! You know what might help bring Mush back from the dead? How 'bout a review? Huh? Huh?
Mush: ((is dead))
Blink: ((dramatically, in the rain)) MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSH!
Where did the rain come from? I'm inside! ((shrugs, opens umbrella)) Review, ladies!
Moseph
P.S. Because it's the best song ever...
MAMA! OOOO! I DON'T WANNA DIE! I SOMETIMES WISH I'D NEVER BEEN BORN AT ALL!
((insane air guitar))