|
|
Post by Administrator on Apr 12, 2010 17:07:35 GMT -5
"Go west young man."
Bored? The statue is a great place for some fun, or even a nap! Also a great place to meet new friends.
|
|
|
|
Post by Racetrack Higgins on Apr 14, 2010 17:30:54 GMT -5
There was something very wrong with Racetrack Higgins.
He had an awfully pronounced grin on his face that was just a little too joyous to be called smug, and a strange glint in his eye that had nothing devious about it. He had a strange spring in his step, and one might say that he was hardly swaggering at all. Close inspection would reveal that there was something terribly wrong with his pockets, as well. They were rather abnormal. They were very nearly...bulging.
Yes, there was something wrong with Racetrack as he came home from the Sheepshead. And he wouldn't have it any other way.
He came to the state, spotted a friend, and said to them eagerly, "You won't believe what just happened..."
|
|
|
|
Post by Skittery James on Apr 15, 2010 1:24:28 GMT -5
Skitts snubbed out the half of the cigarette he had and was nearly toppled over by the over energetic Racetrack. He had to stop for a moment, had he gone completely mad? Raising a brow Skittery took off his hat and ran his arm across his forehead.
"No but I bet your goin' ta tell me eh?" He didn't sound to thrilled, but then again-- when did Skittery EVER Sound thrilled?
|
|
|
|
Post by Racetrack Higgins on Apr 15, 2010 18:42:26 GMT -5
"Smart guy," Race said dismissivly. Not even Skittery could be a wet blanket today. "I'll tell ya what happened. Sixteen dollars and sixty-two cents, that's what happened!" Racetrack dug in his pocket and made sure he had a tight grip on the wad of bills (two fives and six singles) before pulling it our of his pocket and holding it up for Skittery to see. He stashed it away again quickly, before Skittery could even think about snatching it from his hand, whether as a joke or not. "I tol' ya all that time at the races would pay off." With sixteen dollars and change, Racetrack could splurge on whatever he wanted this first week, and then live like he did selling papers for a good he didn't know how long.
|
|
|
|
Post by Prince on Jul 27, 2010 23:37:14 GMT -5
(New Day)
Prince stood on Horace's lap. It almost looked as though she was a part of the statue. Shorter, yet still present, hair pulled up into her hat as always. A small smile on her face. She had a hand on the old man's head and she was facing west. The wind was blowing in her face and it felt magnificent! She could breathe in the fresh air, and had finally shook off the depression of the musty dreary winter. Finally things were looking up. And she even liked her new hair cut.
As the breeze blew through her bangs, the only hair sticking out from under the hat, she took in a deep breath before looking down the street to the west where she saw news boys walking to and fro here and there, and up and down the avenue. She loved it. there was really no place like New York, was there?
|
|
|
|
Post by Racetrack Higgins on Jul 27, 2010 23:47:11 GMT -5
Racetrack walked with his head bent over a matchbook, trying to strike a match and light the last stub of a cigar that would give him any tobacco. After blowing most of the money he'd won at the tracks on cigars, new cuff links and a new pocket watch, he'd finally wised up and put the rest of his winnings away, in case he would need it someday. Not since his nonna died had Racetrack eaten enough food to make him almost sick from being so full. His years as a newsie had accustomed him to starvation, but after eating his fill and beyond at Tibby's two days in a row, Racetrack was determined never to starve again.
Finally his cigar caught, and he took a long, slow drag as he looked up around him. There was the Horace Greeley statue, and there...who was that guy? Race rolled his eyes when he realized that the guy he was referring to was actually a gal--Prince. No other girl could dupe someone like Prince, and Race shook his head. He should know better by now...
"How goes it, Prince?" he asked around his cigar, walking up behind her and leaning on the base of the statue.
|
|
|
|
Post by Prince on Jul 27, 2010 23:51:48 GMT -5
Prince startled by the sudden entrance of her friend slipped on the statue and landed on his lap, with her backside. "....ow..." she managed to squeak out. She took a deep breath, put an arm around the man's shoulders and the other she put in the shape of a gun and pointed it at race. She coughed a little before saying deeply, "heya race. How goes the horses?" she chuckled at her horrible pun and gave Horace one last pat on the shoulder before sliding off onto the ground beside her gambling companion. "Been winnin' lately? I ain't really been following the races lately." She folded her arms with a smile. It was obvious she was in an overwhelmingly good mood.
|
|
|
|
Post by Racetrack Higgins on Jul 28, 2010 0:00:53 GMT -5
Race grinned broadly. "Boy howdy, have I!" he exclaimed, eager to brag to someone else. "I took what I thought was gonna be a bum bet, see. I thought it'd turn out to be the worst two bits I ever spent." He held up his wrists and showed Prince his new pewter cuff links. "But was I wrong! Sixteen dollars and sixty two cents." He dropped his hand and fished in his pocket for his watch, flipping it open and displaying it to Prince. "You believe that?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Prince on Jul 28, 2010 0:03:25 GMT -5
She looked at the cuff links and the watch and her eyes widened a little. "Wow... I nevah thought you'd have a watch that actually woiked again race," she said teasing him. "Wait a second," she pulled back and crossed her arms. "Ya know the bulls ain't gonna be too happy about this once they figure out that you stole all this nice stuff from the stores down town," she said. "You're gonna be in a world of hurt if they find you." Race was a good gambler but that kinda luck was unheard of! It wasn't that she didn't believe him... it's just that it was highly unlikely... nothing against race. It was just true.
|
|
|
|
Post by Racetrack Higgins on Aug 17, 2010 14:21:13 GMT -5
Racetrack's jovial expression suddenly stormed over. His short fuse was lit, and it wouldn't be long until there was an explosion. "You deaf or somethin'?" he snapped. "Didn' I just say I bought this stuff? I won the money, so it's mine. And the stuff is mine too, and you can fall off a bridge if you don't believe me!" Racetrack could hardly believe Prince's reaction. He knew he occasionally took bum bets and had some lousy luck most of the time, but anyone who knew him should know how much he gambled. So much, he reasoned, that at some point or another, he would have to win.
He'd finally won, and now no one would believe it. It pissed him off to no end.
|
|
|
|
Post by Prince on Aug 19, 2010 0:50:52 GMT -5
"Woah woah, okay okay," she said holding up her hands defensively. "I'll take ya woid for it, ya won the money." She smiled a little put her hands down. "Sorry." She chuckled a little bit. "alright alright, so tell me more about this horse than? Which one? And for that matter, how are things down in Brooklyn, sheepshead and all," she said. She was just trying to put out the fire she'd started and get Race's good side again. She'd meant no harm, and didn't think he'd take it so rough. She felt kind of bad for accusing such a good friend of doing something like that. She really was sorry, and hoped that he would be able to forget about it.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bumlets Russo on Feb 2, 2011 22:33:30 GMT -5
(New Day))
Whatever was happening elsewhere, Bumlets had sent Skittery to go and take a book of poetry to the cajun girl at Medda's. Which had made the other complain but Brian was almost shocked that he'd just done it. He'd figured that since she was getting over the illness that had her in bed for a couple months she could use with something to read.
Shifting his broomstick, he used it to lean on as he looked down the street and adjusted his cap, angling it so the sun would stay out of his eyes. He'd been to visit his mum and his sister, having to revert to speaking Spanish as his mom was ill recently. But that was normal since his pops had died. Sighing he looked down the road before leaning back. They lived in a world where people like Bumlets, were often overlooked and he had no desire to die at the docks. He wanted to be a writer, to make a difference and a change in the world. Maybe write for the world, that was something else.
A slight smile worked over his face as he gazed down the road, lost in thought as usual.
|
|
|
|
Post by Squints Matsumura on Feb 3, 2011 12:38:53 GMT -5
King shuffled down the streets, his hands shoved in his pockets and a cigarette tucked behind his left ear. After selling papers this morning he had gone over to the stables to help train a new colt. He smelled like sweat and horses, so he was in need of quick shower to wash the stink off.
Passing by the Horace Greeley statue, he noticed one of his bunkmates staring off into space. He made his way over and greeted his friend. "Hey there, Bumlets. How's it going?"
(occ: Hope this wasn't saved for someone else. Needed to get King back in action. lol)
|
|
|
|
Post by Bumlets Russo on Feb 3, 2011 15:21:26 GMT -5
Bumlets hadn't expected anyone to stop him, his brow raising as he turned to look over at King. He hadn't seen the other newsie around in awhile but that didn't matter to much. The half spanish kid had been missing a lot of people recently, mostly because he'd been to visit his mother.
He caught the smell off of King and tilted his head, "Rough day at the track, King?" He was a student of deep thought, but it didn't mean he was always lost in his own mind. Bumlets was quick and he tended to observe a lot of the time, picking out nuances that other people missed in their rush in life. Though it could be said that his phobia of girls was a bit much at times, he did do well ordinarily with certain members of the opposite gender. Just not many.
|
|
|
|
Post by Squints Matsumura on Feb 9, 2011 10:13:23 GMT -5
King leaned up against the statue's base. "Yeah. There's a new colt we're trying to train. He's a spirited little thing, but I've never failed at training a colt before; not gonna start now." He shoved his hands into his pockets and began to people watch for a few minutes.
King pulled a couple cigarettes out of his left pocket. "How 'bout you, Bumlets, how has your day been?" He stuck one of the cigs in between his lips and lit it. Then, he held the other out in between his thumb and forefinger and offered it to his friend.
|
|
(c)Red
