Our Side of the Strike

A Day in the Life

"Wake up!" I hear while da voice simultaneously jostled my not-sore arm.

"Lemme sleep in ya lug! It's Sunday! Papes don't sell Sunday and youse knows it!" I reply, beating him with my top hat the whole time. Completely ignoring my top hat warning, the voice continues,

"That's why youse gots ta get up! Da quicker we sells all our papes, da quicker we can go to sheepsheads!"

I slowly open one eye to see a boy with curly blonde hair, and a cigar lodged in between that ridiculous smile of his. Groaning, I roll to my odda side. "5 more minutes Racer will ya? Youse gonna wake every damn newsie in da-" I'm cut off when he yanks me out by my sore arm. Yelping, he clapped his hand over my mouth

"Youse wanna wake every newsie in da lodging house?" He asks smugly. I know he didn't know about my sore arm, or how I got it, none of them did.

Ise'll tell 'em some odda time.

"Youse have my full attention." I growled

"Good" he smirked at me.

I got dressed, and then we didn't stop running until we reached da circulation gate, and while he was pacing back and forth endlessly, I was standing to the side, half awake, and looking like a cat after it narrowly missed drowning. "Racer it's 6 o clock! Why da hell did you drag me down here before any of the oddas are even awake?".

"6 am?"

"Nah 6 pm ya moron. Yeah 6 am!"

"Okay I might have over shot tha time a little but we's gots to be done sellin' today at 3. I got a hot tip on a horse in tha 3 a'clock races-"

"From whom may I ask"

"-Umm a better who heard it from a fella named Amos Rouse."

"Youse hear nothing suspicious about da name A. Rouse? Nothing when youse hear that?" I ask, starting to perk up. After no reply odda than a sheepish look, I go over to him and playfully slug 'im in the arm and smirk at him "nice going ya moron"

"Yeah it's almost as bad as tha round in of poker ya went all in because ya had a pair of threes. And if Ise is startin ta screw up as bad as you do then-." he says smirking at me.

I roll my eyes "Shuddup." I say resting my head on his shoulder. So we stood there and waited, having a "respectful conversation about horse politics" (swearing, name calling, heated arguments, and aggressive overall behavior is encouraged), until finally the boys joined us at tha gates, by this time it was about 7:20, and we were in a full blown argument with the woiks that was so loud and vulgar, passerby's with kids had to cover their children's ears and run out of ear shot. When the boys were coming in, some tried to ignore us, some watched transfixed, and some started making bets. When Jack finally broke it up, neither of us knew what had started it.

"They's is puttin up tha headline!"

"Wonder if it's anything good."

"I'd just hope it's something with a shocking title!"

And so on and so on tha newsies went until-

Trolly Strike Proceeds for the Second Week

All of us groan.

"First day it was great. Second and thoid fine. But two weeks?!" States Boots.

"This is 'sposed to be New York da city of excitement and danger!" Skittery complains

"It's losing its touch sure, but we can manage; right?" Says the voice of optimism himself: Crutchie.

"Think we'll be able to make tha track at 3?" I asks Racer.