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Post by Administrator on Apr 13, 2010 16:25:11 GMT -5
Need the fresh air?
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Post by Styx Kennedy on Jan 12, 2011 18:06:47 GMT -5
[ Corner Café: take II – DA & Horseshoe] Styx laughed shakily in relief, glad that his friend would still be within walking distance. If DA had decided to leave New York or, even worse, leave the country, he didn’t know what he would do. “Well, Yonkers isn't too much farther ta Queens than your shop in ‘Hattan is and I’m over there visiting the…the…” He stumbled briefly, unsure of what to call the Yonkers boys to another boy from Yonkers. “…well, the ‘Yonkers Boys,’ …all the time. They’re good drinkin’ mates,” he chuckled and took another drag off his cig. Don’t Ask, however still looked down and Styx sobered up again. As Styx watched him pet Horseshoe, he felt rather lonely. The closest person to him, his sister Casey, had yet to return to her normal, peppy self since The Battle and he worried about whether or not she ever would. Now his best friend was fighting an inner battle of his own and he felt like there was nothing he could do to help. He had grown extremely close to the Dutch boy over the past few months and counted him as one of his closest friends; Styx felt like he could tell DA anything. There was a part of him that wondered if DA felt the same way, but he had never felt the need to ask. Now though, as his friend talked about moving back home, he felt the need to voice his thought. “DA…” He ran a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words. Coming up empty, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his cigarette hanging loosely from one hand. Styx smiled crookedly, realizing that his words didn’t have to be perfect with DA, the boy always seemed to understand him. “’Ey, we’re muckers, right? Like proper mates, tried and true, me ould segotia?” * (( Mucker (n): a friend i.e. someone you muck around with. Me ould segotia (n): best friend)) |
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Post by Don't Ask on Jan 16, 2011 0:45:20 GMT -5
When Styx mentioned that he'd been palling around with the boys from Don't Ask's hometown of Yonkers, a ripple of cold fear ran through Don't Ask's body, and he struggled to cover it. The idea of his new friend (well, newer friend) mixing with the friends he had in his previous life, the friends who knew him better as Katarzyna than Zbigniew, made his stomach churn, the pulverized hunk of half a ham sandwich knocking around in his belly like a stone now.
Yonkers was out. But that was okay, there was a whole country out there. Wasn't like he had anything tying him down. He could fit all his worldly possessions in a sack with room to spare; maybe he would just hop a train and ride it out until the landscape looked appealing. He could send his parents a telegram, let them know where he wound up, not to worry about him. Maybe Horseshoe would stick with him, maybe they could pull up stakes and train-hop together. A boy and his dog, riding the rails. The idea had appeal.
But even as he thought these things, Styx was requesting confirmation of their solidarity, and Don't Ask put on a mask of relief to respond. "Yeah, sure. Sure we are, ya dom mick! What's the matter with you? You think I feed people I don't like?" Leaning into Horseshoe so he could reach into the pocket of his smudged waistcoat, he fished out his fobwatch, making a face at the time. "I should start heading back. Come on, let's walk." Clambering to his feet, he knickered for Horseshoe to follow as they walked in the direction of lower Manhattan.
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Post by Styx Kennedy on Jan 20, 2011 4:28:29 GMT -5
Styx grinned at his friend, not noticing his momentary lapse into panic, and leaned back in his chair, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Yeah, s’pose you wouldn’t,” he laughed, glad the moment was over. He had never been one for sappy feelings and mushy conversations, but he’d been drinking a lot more lately and that meant lots of thinking time. Apparently though, all that over-thinking had been a waste of time, for the Dutch boy and he were as close as ever.
DA pulled out a fob watch and declared that it was time to be off. As lower Manhattan was on his way back home anyway, Styx shrugged and agreed to go along. As they walked, Horseshoe followed along happily. Watching the dog started his mind wondering about where DA had picked him up from. Or, he conceded, where Horseshoe had picked DA up from… This dog was smart enough to do so, of that Styx had no doubt.
Finishing the last of his cig, he threw the butte to the side of the road and out of the way. He rubbed his hands through his hair a bit, and sighed in contentment. “So, boyo,” he started, addressing Horseshoe, “how’d you get this kid to let you keep him, hmm?” He chuckled good-naturedly and winked at Don’t Ask. Ah how he loved being around this pair, if only his friend could be as happy here as he was.
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Post by Don't Ask on Feb 2, 2011 22:33:13 GMT -5
Don't Ask looked down to his dog while Styx addressed him; Horseshoe looked up at them, eyes flicking between the two boys, before flicking an ear and trotting ahead a couple paces. The gesture, human as it was, made Don't Ask smile despite the dark thoughts he was trying not to think. He watched the dog walk in front of them, pausing here and there to sniff at something just long enough for the boys to catch up before trotting forward again, curled tail arcing over his back and waving like a flag with his movements.
"He doesn't like to talk about it," Don't Ask filled in, his voice conspiratorially low. "Wasn't one of his finer moments, y'see. He and I crossed paths while he was running for his life from the butcher in Harlem. Horseshoe had stole a roll of balkenbrij off the meat wagon and the butcher was aimin' to turn him into a sausage link himself. I was making a run to Strivers' Row to fix a wrought iron fence post, and I'm strolling up through Manhattanville with my rucksack and my flux and foil, and all of a sudden I'm about to turn a corner when this furry missile launches square at my chest. My shit goes flyin', I'm on my back, my left elbow is in a pile of horse shit, this mutt is licking my face like I'm his long-lost friend and he's trekked the frontier to find me again, and right behind him is this huge kaaskop butcher, shouting at the top of his lungs and wielding a broomstick like a lance. He trips over us, kicks me right in the ribs as he's going down. A'course, I got off pretty easy--he landed face-down in the horse shit."
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Post by Styx Kennedy on Mar 7, 2011 21:05:25 GMT -5
Styx laughed loudly at the tale, really and truly laughed, almost doubling over as they walked and slapped his knee. The picture that formed in his head was sidesplittingly hilarious and decided he would have paid good money to see it happen. It was exactly like Horseshoe to make friends in such a way and the angry butcher falling in horse shit was just comedy gold, especially to newsies.
Most of them, Styx included now, tried to refrain from picking pockets – Prince had taught him that they weren’t the only people hurting for money and that it was selfish to think otherwise – but food was fair game. Anyone who tried to talk a starving kid into thinking that being hungry wasn’t an excuse for stealing had never been starving. Butchers were always the hardest to snatch from, but the payout was definitely the best.
His laugh slowly morphed into a chuckle, as he watched Horseshoe’s antics, then finally subsided altogether leaving only a large smile to mark where they had been. “Sounds like he won ya over, even with the horse shit on ya elbow,”
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Post by Sweetheart Snow on Jun 26, 2011 22:22:11 GMT -5
(New Day - Reserved for Shamrock)
Sweetheart Snow sat in one of the outside tables at Stu's after a long hard day of selling papers. By now, the teenage boys around the Bronx had figured out that she was fourteen and she had to deal with their intense flirting for five hours straight. It was drivin her up the wall. She was just waiting for a waiter to come and take her order. She figured hat it would be awhile so she took out one of the books she had bought from the nearby bookstore earlier that morning. It was the complete works of Shakespeare, one of her favorite writers and she was reading Romeo and Juliet. She was at the part where Romeo was asking Frair Lawrence to wed him and Juliet when a shadow fell upon her. She sighed and turned around, expecting to see a random teenage boy who wanted to flirt with her.
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Post by Shamrock O'Shea on Jun 27, 2011 16:15:28 GMT -5
Shamrock was passing by Stu's on his way back to the Lodging House when he spotted a familiar face--a girl with long brown wavy hair and about his age. He couldn't recall ever having been introduced to her but he remembered seeing her around the Girl's Lodging House when he visited his sister a few days ago. She was new, that he was sure of.
As Shamrock neared her table, he saw she was reading a rather large book. He stopped just behind her and peered over her shoulder to see what it was she was reading. Ah, Shakespeare. Something Byron read to him often when he was younger.
Noticing his presence, the girl looked up at him. Shamrock shot her a smile. "Shakespeare, huh?! Your first time reading Romeo and Juliet?" He moved around to the other side of the table and sat down across from her.
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Post by Sweetheart Snow on Jun 27, 2011 19:33:28 GMT -5
Sweetheart smiled at the boy. She had seen him at her lodging house but didn't know his name. He looked a lot like Pallet. She laughed when he asked her if it was her first time reading Romeo and Juliet.
"No way! Shakespeare is my favorite writer and my favorite play from him is Romeo and Juliet." she said. She held out her hand. "Sweetheart Snow."
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Post by Shamrock O'Shea on Jul 23, 2011 23:03:03 GMT -5
Shamrock chuckled at the girls response. It wasn't surprising that she liked Shakespeare nor that Romeo and Juliet was her favorite play. Most girl's felt the same way; at least the ones who have read Shakespeare before. He, on the other hand, couldn't understand why it was a favorite of theirs. Both characters end up dead at the end. That wasn't romantic at all.
"Shamrock O'Shea," he replied taking the girl's hand to give it a brief shake before releasing it and leaning back in his chair. "I actually think Romeo and Juliet is overrated. What's so romantic or great about a story where both characters claim to be in love but in the end they both kill themselves and neither get to be together like they wanted. It's complete bollocks and they're both eejits."
Shamrock waved over a waitress serving the outside customers and ordered an ice water and a cold sandwich. After the waitress headed back inside, he turned back to the girl across from him. "My favorite is Twelfth Night. Now there's a story that's happy out."
Irish translation:
Bollocks-stupid
Eejits- Idiots
Happy out- everything is sorted out/you're generally happy with the situation
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Post by Sweetheart Snow on Jul 23, 2011 23:27:26 GMT -5
Sweetheart laughed when the boy complained about Romeo and Juliet. "I only like the fighting. I hate romances that end up with one of them dead, let alone both lovers dead. That is just ridiculous." she said. "Call me strange, I think the romance of the story is really stupid."
"It's a real pleasure to meet you, Shamrock. Wait, are you related to Pallet by chance?"
She made a face when Shamrock told her his favorite was Twelfth Night. "Personally my second favorite is Hamlet. Twelfth Night confuses me."
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