Shoutouts!

T-R-Us: Grazie! Sorry you had an operation. No offense taken.

Unknown-Dreams: SORRY! Maybe we'll have some experimental thingy or something, but as far as things go, I don't think I'm going to Sprace it.

January 6

"How long?" Racetrack demanded. Since the day before, he and Spot had clicked, partially because Race had an incredible thirst for gossip and matchmaking. Spot looked over at him from the driver's seat of his ancient Volvo station wagon.

"Since last year," he finally replied. "Two-Bits and I were friends since the eighth grade, so I started hanging out with her group. Well, one thing leads to another, and here I am with a huge crush." Racetrack rolled his eyes.

"We really need to work on that. If you're gonna tell him, you're going to have to think of a more romantic version of that. Come on, work up some sap!" Race said, teasingly. Spot stopped in front of Two-Bits's house, then looked sternly at Race.

"I am not telling him," he said, firmly. "And neither are you," he added. Racetrack did his pout again, and Spot laughed. "That's still incredibly gay!"

"Hey, my best guy friends are gay. What do you expect?" Race said, shrugging. "Come on, can't we tell him?" he whined, just as Snitch opened the door to the car.

"Tell who what?" Snitch asked, climbing into the back seat. Two-Bits walked around the car and leaned in through the window on Spot's side.

"Hey, thanks for baby-sitting Snitchy. I'll come and get him around one," Two-Bits teased. Snitch flipped her off.

"No problem, Bits," Spot laughed. "Just don't take too long. I don't know how much I can stand." Two-Bits laughed and pushed away from the car and jumped in her own, where Dodger sat in the passenger seat. She whipped out of the driveway, and Spot pulled away from the curb, going in the opposite direction of the white punch-buggy.

"Tell who what?" Snitch repeated, impatiently. Spot gave Race a look, but Race wasn't looking at him, which Spot had a feeling was intentional.

"Oh, Spotty's just got a little crush," Race said, offhandedly. Snitch grinned.

"Who is it?" he asked, and Spot's grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"He's not telling," Race said, smoothly, and Spot silently blessed him. "I just happened to have caught him gawking, red-handed." Snitch laughed, but said nothing.

"So, where's your sister headed for?"

January 6

"Well done, well done," Miss Larkson said, encouragingly. The girl, Alice something-or-other, stepped off the stage.

Mush, Dodger, and Two-Bits were at Starstruck, auditioning for Oliver! Miss Larkson, a retired Vaudeville performer, was the director. She was tall and thin, with orange curls, and she seemed not to realize that orange and pink clashed. But she seemed likeable enough. That is, if she liked you.

"Let's see…Tory Wilkins?" Two-Bits whistled, softly, then stood up, stepping carefully onto the stage. Dodger leaned forward and whispered in Miss Larkson's ear. "I believe you have a routine?"

"Yes, ma'am," she said, glaring at Dodger.

"Allen, give this girl a headset," Miss Larkson ordered. Two-Bits accepted a headset from Allen, and put it on. She waited for the tape to begin, then started to sing…and dance.

There's a little ditty they're singing in the city, especially when they've been on the gin, or the beer. If you've got the patience, your own imaginations will tell you exactly what you want to hear…

Oom-pah-pah, oom-pah-pah. That's how it goes! Oom-pah-pah, oom-pah-pah, everyone knows!

They all suppose what they want to suppose when they hear oom-pah-pah! Mister Percy Snodgrass would often have the odd glass. But never when he thought anybody could see. Secretly he'd buy it, and keep it on the quiet, and dream he was an Earl with a girl on each knee!

Oom-pah-pah, oom-pah-pah! That's how it goes! Oom-pah-pah, oom-pah-pah! Everyone knows!

What his the cause of his red shiny nose? Could it be oom-pah-pah? Pretty little Sally goes walking down the alley, displays her pretty ankles for all the men to see. They could see her garters, but not for free-and-gratis—an inch or two and she knows to say when!

Oom-pah-pah, oom-pah-pah! That's how it goes! Oom-pah-pah, oom-pah-pah! Everyone knows!

Whether it's hidden, or whether it shows, it's the same oom-pah-pah! She was from the country, but now she's up a gum tree! She let a fellow feed her, then lead her along. What's the good of crying? She's made a bed to lie in. She's glad to bring the coin in and join in this song.

She's no longer the same blushing rose ever since oom-pah-pah!

There's a little ditty they're singing in the city, especially when they've been on the gin, or the beer. If you've got the patience, your own imagination will tell you exactly what you want to hear…

Oom-pah-pah, oom-pah-pah! That's how it goes! Oom-pah-pah, oom-pah-pah! Everyone knows!

They all suppose what they want to suppose, when they hear oom-pah-pah!

January 6

"Hey, Specs?" Specs looked up from his book. Dutchy was standing in the doorway, fidgeting.

"Got spiders in your pants?" Specs teased. Dutchy blushed and began to examine his sneakers. Specs sighed, smiling fondly at his best friend. "What is it?" Dutchy looked up, then looked back at the floor.

"Do you wanna go…" he began, hesitantly. He stopped talking, and Specs sat up on the bed.

"Do I want to…?" he prodded. Dutchy glanced up and looked away again, blushing. Specs rolled his eyes, then stood up and pulled open a drawer of the dresser. Selecting a tee shirt, he pulled it over his head.

"Do you want to…goseamovi…" Dutchy said, quickly. Specs snorted.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he teased. "My ears aren't tuned to that speed." Dutchy blushed again.

"Do you want to go see a movie?" he said, slowly. It seemed he had moved up in the world; he was now staring at a piece of lint on the floor a few feet in front of him.

Specs frowned, pondering this. He had seen a movie with Dutchy every other Saturday for three years. Why was he so nervous? Unless…

"You mean like a date?" Specs said, standing up, quickly. Dutchy went red.

"No, just, um, you know, my mom is going out with her girl friends, so I just thought we could…" he stammered, trailing off. Specs smiled and took a couple steps forward, tilting Dutchy's chin up.

"You mean like a date," he said. Dutchy nodded, faintly. Specs grinned, rolling his eyes.

"What movie?" he asked. Dutchy grinned.

"I have no idea."

January 6

Dodger stood on the stage, no longer looking smug. Two-Bits smirked at her and motioned for her to start, mouthing, "Go on!" Grimacing, Dodger began to sing.

Consider yourself at home! Consider yourself one of the family. We've taken to you so strong, it's clear we're going to get along. Consider yourself well in. Consider yourself part of the furniture. There isn't much to share. Who cares? What ever we've got we share!

If it should chance to be we should see some harder days, empty larder days, why grouse? All ways a chance we'll meet somebody to foot the bill then the drinks are on the house! Consider yourself our mate. We don't want to have no fuss, for after some consideration, we can state…Consider yourself one of us!

Consider yourself at home! Consider yourself one of the family! We've taken to you so strong. It's clear we're going to get along!

Consider yourself well in. Consider yourself part of the furniture. There isn't a lot to spare. Who cares? Whatever we've got we share!

Consider yourself our mate. We don't want to have no fuss. Consider yourself one of us!

January 6

"So, where are we headed?" Snitch asked as they were walking out of the Chick-Fil-A where they had had lunch.

"Let's hit the mall," Spot said with a grin, glancing over at Race, who choked on his Pepsi. Snitch and Spot began to laugh. "HEY!" Spot shrieked, as Racetrack slid a few ice cubes down his back. The ice got lodged between hit back and his Under-armor shirt, and Spot began to…

"Dance, Spot!" Racetrack cheered in his wannabe-ghetto voice. Snitch was laughing so hard that tears were running down his cheeks. The ice was in the exact place that Spot couldn't reach.

"Get it out!" Spot squealed. Still laughing, Snitch grabbed the back of Spot's shirt and pulled him backwards, toward Snitch. Race watched, smugly, as Snitch stuck his hands under Spot's shirt, retrieving the ice cube. Fortunately for Spot, Snitch couldn't see him blushing.

"That was not cool, Race," Spot said, as Snitch tossed the ice cube onto the pavement. Race grinned, cockily.

"Actually, it was quite cool. It's ice, Spot!" Spot shoved him, and he stumbled over the curb.

"Aw, lighten up, Spotty," Snitch said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "It was hilarious!" Spot growled, but he said nothing. "Come on, let's go."

January 6

"All right, you next. Your name is?" Mush quietly muttered, "Andrew Meyers."

Mush hesitantly stepped onto the stage. He glanced around and blushed, brilliantly, when he saw Kid Blink step into the auditorium. Blink smiled, encouragingly, and sat down next to Two-Bits.

Mush stood there for a second, wondering why on earth he had blushed. Miss Larkson brought him out of his reverie with an impatient cough. "Please begin, Andrew."

Sighing, Mush stepped up to the microphone, and a tape (which sang the boys' part) began to play. Squeezing his eyes shut, he began to sing.

In this life, one thing counts. In the bank, large amounts. I'm afraid these things don't grow on trees, you've got to pick a pocket or two. You've got to pick a pocket or two, boys, you've got to pick a pocket or two.

Large amounts don't grow on trees. You've got to pick a pocket or two!

Why should we break our backs stupidly paying tax? Better get some untaxed income. Better pick a pocket or two. You've got to pick a pocket or two, boys. You've got to pick a pocket or two.

Why should we all break our backs? Better pick a pocket or two.

Robin Hood, what a crook! Gave away what he took! Charity's fine, subscribe to mine. Get out and pick a pocket or two. You've got to pick a pocket or two, boys. You've got to pick a pocket or two.

Robin Hood was far too good. He had to pick a pocket or two.

Take a tip from Bill Sikes. He can whip what he likes. I recall he started small. He had to pick a pocket or two. You've got to pick a pocket or two, boys. You've got to pick a pocket or two.

We can be like old Bill Sikes if we pick a pocket or two.

Dear old gent passes by. Something nice takes his eye. Everything's clear, attack the rear. Get in and pick a pocket or two. You've got to pick a pocket or two, boys. You've got to pick a pocket or two.

Have no fear. Attack the rear. Get in and pick a pocket or two.

When I see someone rich, both my thumbs start to itch. Only to find some peace of mind we have to pick a pocket or two. You've got to pick a pocket or two, boys. You've got to pick a pocket or two.

Just to find some peace of mind…

We've got to pick a pocket or two!

"You were brilliant, Mushy!" Kid Blink exclaimed, thumping Mush on the back. Mush grinned, his adrenaline running, as it always did when he performed.

"Thanks Blink," he said. Their eyes met, and Mush blushed.

Perhaps it was possible…