"Get up get up!" came a voice over the speaker. "Da presses are rollin’. Do ya heah me ya gotta get up!" There was a collective groan heard from everyone, who were happily asleep. All the boys rolled out of bed, rubbing their eyes and yawning. Racetrack started to leave the room. "Wheah are ya goin’?" Moneybags asked. "Ta Snipeshootah’s room…duh.." Racetrack told her. Moneybags, curious why he was going in there, followed him. Racetrack walked in, hit Snipeshooter over the head, took the cigar he was smoking and sang, "Dat’s my cigah…" Snipeshooter looked at him oddly. "No it isn’t. I bought it ovah at da store on da cornah." Racetrack glared at hit him aagin. "Ya idiot! Dat ain’t yer line. We do dis every day. Why can ya jest get it right?!" "I’m sorry! I’m sorry. Do it again. I’ll get it right dis time," Snipeshooter told him. Racetrack took a deep breath and sang, "Dat’s my cigah…" "A porcelain tub wid boilin’ watah," Snipeshooter sang back. "What? What da fuck is wrong wid ya?!" Racetrack asked, hitting Snipeshooter again. "What? I did me line!" Snipeshooter claimed. "It’s da wrong fuckin’ line! It ain’t even in dis song…hell it ain’t even YER line," Racetrack told him. "Yer supposed ta say, ‘You’ll steal anuddah.’ Jest do it right!" "I’m sorry! I’ll get it right dis time…really. I promise. Once moah," Snipeshooter said. Racetrack opened his mouth to say his line but was interrupted by some of the newsies walking in. "Hey, what’s da hold up in heah? I gotta say me line!" Blink told them. "Dis dumbass can’t get his line right!" Racetrack told them, hitting Snipeshooter again. "Maybe if ya didn’t hit him so much he wouldn’t be so slow," Moneybags siggested. "Yeah! Dat’s right!" Snipeshooter agreed. "I definatley got da raw deal, heah! I get hit every fuckin’ mornin’!" "What ‘bout me?" Racetrack asked. "Every single mornin’ I get soap in me eye from someone not passin’ me da damn towel. Wheah da hell am I supposed ta get a fuckin’ dollah every mornin?" "Well, maybe if ya didn’t hit so damn hard durin’ King a New Yawk I would lowah da price. An’ once an’ fer all I AIN’T GLUM AN’ DUMB!" Skitter excalimed. "Boys, boys, boys. Let’s jest get on wid da song!" Jack intervened. "Well, while we’se on da subject, Jack do ya think ya could make an’ effert ta not get da damn shavin’ cream in me mouth? It’s gross!" Mush told him. "Stop yer bitchin’, boys," Stress told them. "Jest skip da damn song fer taday!" "Skip da song?" Jack asked. "We can’t do dat! Look, Stress, ya know dat I love ya…an’ dat I love what ya can do…especially dat think when we were…" Stress cleared her throat and shook her head. "Well, da point is, we can’t jest skip da song," Jack told her. "Why not?" Stress asked. "Jest…’cause…I dunno….fine, fine we’ll skip it," Jack agreed, unable to think of any reason that they shouldn’t and slowly falling into the habit of doing whatever Stress said (being the good little minion that he is.) "We’ll jest skip straight ta givin’ you goils our trademarks so we can get ta da revenge." "Yes! Revenge!" Hades called out. "C’mon! To da main room!" Blink said. Everyone followed him to the main room. "I’ll go foist," Jack decided. "Stress pick a trademark." "I’ll take…yer shirt," Stress decided. "Me shirt? Dat ain’t a trademark! I was thinkin’ me hat…or bandana," Jack told her. Stress smirked. "I know…all right fine I’ll take…da rope belt," she decided, pulling it off him. Jack shrugged his consent before realizing that he felt a little cold. He looked down and found his pants had falled down. He blushed whily he pulled his pants up quickly. "Do ya really think dat da rope is da best idea? I mean…da goil could jest take it as a peice a rope in her house," Raven pointed out. Stress shrugged. "Fine, I’ll take da hat," she said, taking Jack’s hat and putting it on her own head. "Can I have me belt back, den?" Jack asked, keeping his pants up with his hand. "Nope!" Stress said, laughing and ting the rope around her own waist. "But…" Jack started. "Next. Who’s next?" Stress asked, ignoing Jack’s please for his belt. "What should I take fer Davie?" Squibble asked, confused. "I think dat is obvious," Quipster told her. "CARROTS!" Jibajabba and Quipster said together. "I don’t even understand that whole carrot thing," Davie said. "There aren’t even carrots in the movie!" "Well, Mr. Hi I’m Really Slow, we have dubbed ya ‘Coneja Muy Loca’ ‘cause ya are a ‘Very Crazy Bunny’." Quipster explained. "What? Why?" Davie asked. "Have ya evah watched yerself in da mirror when ya dance?" Jibajabba asked. "What? I thought I looked cool! The boys…they said I did!" Davie calimed. "Well, actually Davie, ya do look kinda stupid," Jack tol him. "we jest wanted someone ta look really bad so dat da rest a us look bettah." Davie looked hurt. "Fine, fine take my carrots," he said, pulling a large bag of carrots from his back pocket. "But…how did dose fit back der?" Tunes asked. "I’se a newsie god," Davie said, shrugging. "Don’t ask questions." Tunes looked at him oddly but refrained from other questions. Tunes, instead, turned to Skittery and started pulling off his shirt. Skittery looked shocked while the rest of the group started yelling and making dirty comments. "Hey…Tunes…don’t ya think we should do dis in private?" Skittery asked. "Do what?" "Dis!" he said, struggling to keep his shirt on. Tunes smirked. "I dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout but I’m jest gettin’ yer trademark," she told him, smiling victoriously when she finally got his shirt off. "Der…pink shirt trademark!" Skittery crossed his arms looking uncomforatble and embarassed. "I know what I’m takin’ fer Blinky," Gav siad, pointing to the patch she was still wearing. "Me too…I’m takin’ Bumlet’s stick!" Holiday told them all. "Hey…won’t dat hurt poor Bumlets?" Mush asked. "I mean I know we’se gods an’ all but der are limits ta what we can do an’ we shouldn’t expect Bumlets ta sacrifice his…" "I was talking about dis stick," Holiday said, rolling her eyes. "Not…well…ya know…" "Oh…gotcha…." Mush said. "So, whaday want drom me, Hades?" Hades jumped on top of him. "I think ya know what I want." Tinker cleared her throat. "He means trademark," she said quietly to Hades. Hades looked visibly disappointed. "Oh…dat…well I dunno. Ya don’t really got a trademark." "Yeah I do!" Mush protested. "Name one!" Hades challenged. "Well, der’s dat…uhh…an’ den der’s…an’ dat one time…" Mush said, trying to think. Then, unable to think of one, burst out crying. "I’m a failure as a newsie! I got nothin’!! Hell..even Davie’s got carrots!" "No…you aren’t a failure…yer too cute ta be a failure!" Squibble told him, patting him on the head. "Plus look at dose muscles! I mean damn look at dat six pack!" Hades added, rubbing her hand over it. "Dat’s it!" Holiday said. "Jest get a six pack a somethin’…everyone would catch on ta dat!" Mush looked very proud. "Score…" he said. "I like dat trademark!" "I have lots a trademarks," Spot boasted. "Dat’s good ‘cause ya gotta have at least four," Gav pointed out. "Well, der’s da key," Spot started. "I’ll take da key!" Jibajabba said, hurriedly. "See, ‘cause I got one a me own," she added, showing them the key necklace that she never takes off. "All right," Spot agreed, taking the key necklace off of his own neck and putting it around Jibajabba’s. "I want yer slingshot," Tinker told him, taking it out of his back pocket. "Fine, so who wants me cane?" Spot asked. "I DO! I DO!" Babble said, jumping up and down and waving her arms. "Okay," Spot said, giving her an odd look. "Wait…is dat all I got?" "What ‘bout Bittah?" Tunes asked. "She’s gotta have somethin’." Bitter smirked. "I’ll jest take his suspendahs." "Wait a minute!" Quipster protested. "Dat’s Itey’s trademark." She brought up the hand that already held Itey’s suspenders. "Spot’s also known fer his red suspendahs," Bitter insisted. "No I ain’t!" Spot said. "Dat is not one a me trademarks." "Well den, if ya insist I’ll take yer pants," Bitter suggested, grinning. "JEST LET HER TAKE DA SUSPENDAHS!" Babble, Tinker and Jibajabba told him. Spot grudgingly agreed and took off his suspenders. Bitter, happy that her plan had worked, darted forward and pulled down his pants. She smirked and said, "Well, dat was fun," while admiring the view. "AAAAH! YA took Itey’s job, too!" Quipster said, angrily. "I don’t steal pants!" Itey protested. Sure enough, right after he said that, amazingly there was a stack of pants in his hands and many pant-less newsies and newsie fans. Quipster burst out laughing while the rest of the people in the room looked very embarrassed. She, however, had astoundingly been permitted to keep her pants. Itey dropped the stack. "NO! It wasn’t me! I’se been framed!" he claimed. "Let’s jest keep goin’…I’se a little chilly an’ will be happy when dis insanity is ovah," Jack said, frustrated. "Who doesn’t have trademark?" "Well, what should I take fer Jake? I’m guessin’ I ain’t allowed ta take his calves," Quirky asked. "Ya could take his highwatahs," Raven suggested. "Dey aren’t highwatahs," Quirky protested. "But all right. I’ll take his ovah alls. Itey give dem up." "I don’t have dem. See, on da floor. I DON’T STEAL PANTS!" he exclaimed. "Shoah ya don’t," Quirky sai,d puling Jake’s overalls out of the large pile of pants. "Hey, I don’t know why ya deny is," Racetrack said. "I would be braggin’ ‘bout how I could get goils outta dey’re pants if I were you." "Ya can get goils outta dey’re pants…at least one goil," Moneybags told him. "Nice point," Racetrack said, looking proud of himself. "So, what am I gunna take from you?" Moneybags asked. "Well…I suppose ya could take me lucky dice. I beat Les wid dem!" he told her, pulling them out of his pocket. "I’m so proud of you! Beatin’ nine yeah olds at dice games," Moneybags said sarcastically. "Do ya want dem or not?" Race asked, angry that she had insulted his achievement. "I’m sorry, yes. I want dem," Moneybags said, taking them out of his hand. "An’ I want dis," Briar said, pulling an armband off of Snoddy’s arm. "Dis’ll woik nicely." "All right. I can do widout it fer a couple days," Snoddy agreed. "Do ya think ya could do widout dese?" Racen asked Specs, pulling off his glassed. "How da hell will I see?" Specs protested. "Ya saw all right last night," Raven pointed out. "Well…dat’s different…" Specs said. "How so?" Raven asked. "Fine, take dem. Jest don’t break dem or anythin’ ‘cause den I’ll have ta change me nickname." "I’ll be very careful," Raven promised putting the glasses on. "Wait a minute…dese are jest glass lenses! Der’s no prescription! Scandalous!" Specs blushed. "Well…dey look good on me an’ make me look smartah," he explained. "I see…" Raven said, smirking. "So, dat’s all da trademarks, right?" Jack asked. When everyone nodded he said, "Good, time ta begin!" "Wait!" Itey protested. "Wheah is Spot?" Everyone looked around. The Spot fans, who had stayed up the entire night fighting to make sure that no one got a chance with him if they didn’t, had collapsed on the floor. "Hey…weren’t der fouh a dem befoah?" Racetrack asked, counting the fans. Everyone looked and sure enough there were only three now. Itey started to wake Babble, Jibajabba and Bitter up, (being the antagonistic rebel that he is) wanting to make sure that a fight wasn’t avoided. "Which one is missin’?" Jack asked. All the sudden from the bathroom someone yelled, "DAMNIT SPOT I DON'T WANT A ONE MINUTE MAN!" Tinker ran out of the bathroom buttoning her shirt, looking very angry. A disappointed Spot followed after her with no shirt and buttoning his pants. It didn’t take long for everyone to figure out what was going on. Bitter, Babble, and Jibajabba were furious with Tinker. They all ran over to her and were even livid enough not to notice that Spot was half naked. The other girls in the room didn’t and drooled over the sight, much to the dismay of their boyfriends. "WHAT DA HELL?!" Bitter exclaimed angrily. "DIS IS FUCKIN’ IT! I’M SOAKIN’ YA ALL LIKE I SHOULDA DONE IN DA BEGINNIN’!" "But…the rest of us didn’t do anything!" Babble reminded her. "Well…" Bitter said, then paused to think. "I’m gunna soak ya befoah ya can," she decided, punching Babble across the face. Babble, surprised by the blow, fell back. Spot nodded in approval, sitting down to watch the ensuing fight. Bitter looked at Jibajabba, who had been standing their silently. "C’mon, bitch, yer next!" "No…I don’t fight," Jibajabba told her. "I don’t fuckin’ care what ya do an’ don’t! I said dat yer next!" Bitter said, walking toward her threatingly. "Don’t you dare touch me. I’m serious!" Jibajabba told her, crossing her arms and glaring at her. Bitter hesitated. "But…how do I know dat ya won't go aftah Spot?" Jibajabba looked at her like she was crazy. "A course I’se gunna go aftah Spot! Hello, look at da boy! What if we jest got rid a da othah two? Wid my powahs and yer soakin’ capabilities we could have Spot to ourselves an’ jest take turns," she suggested. Bitter thought it over for a moment before abruptly swinging around and punching Tinker across the face and then in the stomach. She turned back to Jibajabba and offered her hand. Jibajabba looked at it disgusted. Bitter followed her gaze and noticed their was some blood on it. Bitter sheepishly wiped it off on her pants and then stuck it back out. Jibajabba accepted it this time, although she still looked slightly revolted. "No more fightin’?" Itey asked, sounding a little disappointed. "Not unless dese bitches ferget ta stay away from Spot," Bitter said. "Oh realllly?" Itey said, smiling evilly. "So, you goils are gunna share me?" Spot asked. "Dat’s da plan," Jibajabba told him. Spot shrugged and put one arm around Jibajabba and the other around Bitter. "Soo…you were sayi…" Spot started. "OH MY GAWD!" Jibajabba interrupted. "Spot has no shirt on!!" "AAAH YOUR RIGHT!" Bitter said, in shock. You could practically see the drool on the girl’s faces (not really…figure of speech!). Spot smiled, very happy with the effect he had on women. "Ya know goils…if ya play yer cards right you’ll see a lot moah den dis," he told them. Bitter and Jibajabba had to fight to stifle their squeals. "So.." Spot tried again. "What were ya sayin’ Jacky boy?" "Oh…yeah…we’se gunna start da plan," Jack told him. PART 4 |