#i dunno. the whole starting a war and getting everybody killed and not listening to reason or conceding to truces thing just. like.

[lawrencegarte]

that "satire requires clarity of purpose lest it be mistaken as genuine" post but it's about e/delgard being an empirical dictator that kills everyone

[rudo-lfium]

"Dune the masterpiece" is a laugh!

So I was testing a new movie projector yesterday, you know, for a home cinema set up, and we decided to watch a movie and the choice fell on Dune by Denise Villeneuve, because it's such a revered piece of work in the movie industry, right? It was making all this noise when it came out and all, yeah? It's got these great cinematics, yeah, and beautifully constructed frames, right, and the cast was absolutely killing it, right? Well anyway seemed like a good choice for a projector test, ok, so Dune it was then.

So I sit down and start taking in the story and man, if it isn't some of the silliest, non-sensical garbage ridiculous writing to ever hit the big screen, lol! It's so riddled with contradictions and straight up foolishness it's criiiinge, man! And I'm not even talking about them implausible sandworms the size of two football fields that swim underneath the sand like it's water, those are LITTLE things, see! I mean the whole premise is so laughable, like WHAT?? Here, try to take this in. Imagine being like an all powerful Emperor of a whole, I dunno what they call it, a galactic empire, I guess, that spans across multiple solar systems and hundreds of colonized worlds, and his power is so vast and so absolute that even worlds light years away obey his every word without ever throwing up any sort of resistance, ever! If he tells someone to leave their family seat that they'd built and nourished for thousands of years -- they just up and leave without saying a word! That's how powerful that Emperor guy is and how feared and unreachable. But the Emperor wants a Duke dead, alright? Because the Duke is somehow gaining traction with the... electorate (or something???) and is becoming a threat to his royal seat? LMAO

Anyway. 'Please, somebody, get his man killed for me', says the Emperor, and when you get an absolute monarchy situation like we got here, THAT usually ends in the Duke having his head lopped off on direct orders, the end, roll credits, thanks for coming by everybody! But no, no, we can't have that, because the movie needs to happen! So instead the Emperor conjures up a ploy so ridiculous, so full of holes, with so much that can go wrong that it makes you wonder if he's maybe retarded or something? So His Majesty calls up this Baron and tells him, "Listen, I got a plan, reliable like a Swiss watch, see? You get your family, and your army, and all of your stuff and leave your home, right? You just pack up and feck off to, I dunno, wherever! from a planet that you'd owned for the past 80 years and that has given you immeasurable profits that no other planet can possibly match, OK? And, listen to this, I GIVE THIS PLANET TO YOUR SWORN ENEMY. See? Right? Pretty amazing, eh? But wait, wait, THEN you attack him and retake your planet back from him! How cool would that be, huh? We wait until this other guy settles in with HIS family, and HIS army, and HIS workforce that's going to start milking your cow for profits, and that's when you come in and strike! Right? Pretty great, yes? But see, I WILL HELP you! Ima give you my SPECIAL ARMY to help you defeat the guy, as reinforcements, and trust me, my guys are SUCH ferocious warriors that no one can match their strength, alright? With these guys as your reinforcement the whole war is going to be a doozy, OK? Oh well you might destroy your own castle and refineries and maybe half of your capital city as collateral, maybe lose a couple of hundred thousand of your men, or even your life may be jeopardized and you'll be left a cripple -- but BIG DEAL, I'm willing to make that sacrifice, OK? But, wait for the best part, you're going TO PAY ME rent for my special army, OK? You're going to pay SO MUCH for renting out a couple of battalions that it's going to cost you like a year's worth of profits, alright? You won't be able to focus on anything else when this war is done but to remedy the holes in your budget that MY HELP is going to cause you. Eh? What do you say? Sound pretty rad, no? Wouldn't that be cool?"

And guess what, the Baron SAY YES, SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN, LET'S TOTALLY DO THAT.

Ahahahahaha you gotta be joking! This thing really has a cult following, I mean the book? Because far as I know it was filmed very close to the book, right? Seriously, you people, that's what makes a 'masterpiece', re-a-l-l-y?? Well then I don't know what to tell you, because all I can do is laugh my FAO!

Yeah, I finished watching it, but only to see how far down the rabbit hole of the bizarre the writers were willing to plunge themselves, and boy, did they not disappoint, lol! You got knife combat between warriors of space faring nations clad in medieval suits of armor, you got "personal shields" that do feck all against being killed, you got an absolutely ridiculous assassination attempt with a miniature airborne drone operated by someone who was mortared inside a wall for six weeks (why, god, why?) but failed to recognize the target despite looking them straight in the face! You got people manually close window shutters the size of a castle gate because presumably there are no computers and all "computing" is done by specially gifted people, but at the same time you got helicopters full of gauges and stabilizer systems, and fuel control systems, and trawlers sucking up the spice from the sandfields, and refineries -- you know, all those things that require at least some kind of primitive computing module to operate, or a circuitboard or something (LOL), like if you need a living person with special computing skills for all these functions, then they'd have to manually rotate those chopper rotors to make it fly, alright? You can't NOT HAVE an automated window shutter system in place "because no computers" but at the same time have choppers flying around and SOME EVEN ON REMOTE CONTROL! Not to mention space travel which YOU CAN'T JUST THINK into happening, alright? Because if all this is just being THOUGHT INTO happening by a bunch of spice junkies, then what we really got here is literally a bunch of junkies lying around in their den on vomit stained couches having a trip, and some are so fecking bombed that they think they're a helicopter! "Yo, my dudes, this shit hits hard, look, I'm an Emperor!"

"Sit yo ass down, I'm so hammered I'm a insectoplane!"

The meth head who thinks he's a giant worm crawls into the room...

Now THAT would have been a great ending for this movie, haha!

There's a sequel in the works, I hear? LOL Okay then. I think I'll pass. Enough masterpieces for me, not ready for such greatness just yet.

[love-pyramus]

I

RACETRACK: In 1899, the street of New York City echoed with the voices of newsies, peddeling the newspapers of Joseph Pulitzer, William Randolph Hearst and other giants of the newspaper world. On every street corner you saw 'em, carrying the banner, bringing you the news for a penny a pape. Poor orphans and run-aways, the newsies were a ragged army, without a leader, until one day when all that changed.

(The movie title appears. We see the outside of the Newsboys Lodging House. Inside, Kloppman, the owner, enters the bunkroom, finding the boys still in bed.)

KLOPPMAN: Boots! Skittery! Skittery! Skittery!

SKITTERY: Wha..I didn't do it!

KLOPPMAN: What do you mean you didn't do it? Will you get up? When you get up, it's time to get up! Snitch! Get up! Get up! Everybody's sleeping. They sleep their lives away these kids! The presses are rolling! Sell the papers, sell the papers! Come on, come on. You dreaming about selling papers?

JACK: Mmmmmm? What's the matta with you?

KLOPPMAN: What's the matter with me?

JACK: What's the matta with you? Wanna..go..back..to..

KLOPPMAN: Come on! (gives him a shove)

JACK: Get away from me, you're mad!

KLOPPMAN:  Haha. Get up boy! Come on. Alright! Carry the banner! Sell the papers!

(Racetrack looks around for his cigar, noticing that Snipeshooter has it)

*Start Song*

RACETRACK: That's my cigar!

SNIPESHOOTER: You'll steal anudder!

KID BLINK: Hey bummers, we got work tah do!

KID: Since when did you become me mudder?

CRUTCHY: Aww, stop your bawling!

NEWSIES: Hey, who asked you?

MUSH: So, how'd you sleep Jack?

JACK: On me back Mush.

MUSH: Ha ha. Hear that fellas? Hear what Jack said? I asked Jack how he slept and he said 'On me back Mush'

CRUTCHY: Jack, when I walk, does it look like I'm faking it?

JACK: No. Who says you're faking it?

CRUTCHY: I dunno. It's just there's so many fake crips on the street today, a real crip ain't got a chance. I gotta find me a new selling spot where they ain't used to seeing me.

MUSH: Try Bottle Alley or the harbour

RACETRACK: Try Central Park, it's guaranteed

JACK: Try any baker, bum, or barber

SKITTERY: They almost all knows how to read

KID BLINK: I smell money

CRUTCHY: You smell foul!

MUSH: Met this girl last night

CRUTCHY: Move your elbow!

RACETRACK: Pass the towel!

SKITTERY: For a buck I might!

NEWSIES: Ain't it a fine life Carrying the banner through it all? A mighty fine life Carrying the banner tough and tall Every morning, we goes where we wishes We's as free as fished Sure beats washin' dishes What a fine life Carrying the banner home-free all!

(The newsies leave the Lodging House and head towards Newsies Square)

Summer stinks and winter's waiting Welcome to New York Boy, ain't nature fascinating When you'se gotta walk? Still, it's a fine life Carrying the banner with me chums A mighty fine life Blowing every nickel as it comes

CRUTCHY: I'm no snoozer Sitting makes me antsy I likes living chancy

NEWSIES: Harlem tah Delancey What a fine life Carrying the banner through the slums

NUNS: Blessed children thought you wonder lost and depraved Jesus loves you, you shall be saved!

PATRICK'S MOTHER: Patrick, darling Since you left me, I am undone Mother loves you God save my son!

(Sung in counterpoint)

RACETRACK: Just give me half a cup

KID BLINK: Something to wake me up

MUSH: I gotta find an angle

CRUTCHY: I gotta sell more papes

VARIOUS NEWSIES: Papers is all I got Wish I could catch a breeze Sure hope the headline's hot All I can catch is fleas God help me if it's not Somebody help me, please..

(End counterpoint)

NEWSIES: If I hate the headline, I'll make up the headline And I'll say anything I hafta 'Cause it's two for a penny, if I take too many Weasel just makes me eat 'em afta

(Sung in counterpoint)

1. Look! They're putting up the headline They call that a headline? I get better stories from the copper on the beat I was gunna start with twenty but a dozen'll be plenty Tell me, how'm I gonna make ends meet?

2. What's it say? That won't pay! So where's your spot? God, it's hot! Will ya tell me how'm I gonna make ends meet?

(End counterpoint)

NEWSIES: We need a good assassination! We need an earthquake or a war!

SNIPESHOOTER: How 'bout a crooked politician?

NEWSIES: Hey, stupid, that ain't news no more! Uptown to Grand Central Station Down to City Hall We improves our circulation Walkin' til we fall!

(Sung in counterpoint)

1. Still we'll be out there Carrying the banner man to man! Yes, we'll be out there Soaking every sucker that we can! See the headline Newsies on a mission Kill the competition Sell the next edition While we're out there Carrying the banner is the...

2.Look, they're putting up the headline They call that a headlin The idiot who wrote it must be working for the Sun Didja hear about the fire?

3.Heard it killed old man Maguire!

2.Heard the toll was ever higher

3.Why do I miss all the fun?

2.Hitched it on a Trolly

3.Meetcha Forty-Fourth and Second

2.Little Italy's a secret

3.Bleecker's further than I reckoned

2.At the courthouse

3.Near the stables

2.On the corner someone beckoned and I....

(The Delancey brothers, Oscar and Morris, enter.)

RACETRACK: Dear me! What is that unpleasant aroma? I fear the sewer may have backed up during the night

BOOTS: Nah, too rotten to be the sewers.

CRUTCHY: It must be the Delancey brudders.

RACETRACK:  Hiya boys!

OSCAR:(to Snipeshooter) In the back, you lousy little shrimp. (Oscar throws Snipeshooter to the ground. Jack goes to help him up)

RACETRACK: It's not good to do that. Not healthy

JACK: You shouldn't call people lously little shrimps, Oscar, unless you're refering to the family resemblance in your brudda here.

RACETRACK: 5-1 that Cowboys skunks 'em. Who's betting?

JACK: That's right. It's an insult. So's this

(Jack knocks Morris' hat off his head. The Delancey's chase Jack around the Square. David and Les enter and watch until Jack bumps into them.)

DAVID: What do you think you're doing?

JACK: Runnin'!

NEWSIES:  (Sung in counterpoint)

1.It's a fine life Carrying the banner through it all A mighty fine life Carrying the banner tough and tall See the headline Newsies on a mission Kill the competition Sell the next edition What a fine life Carrying the banner!

2.Would you look at the headline You call that a headline? I get better stories from the copper on the beat I was gonna start with twenty but a dozen'll be plenty Would you tell me how'm I ever gonna make ends meet Hitched it on a Trolly Meetcha Forty-Fourth and Second Little Italy's a secret Bleecker's further than I reckoned By the courthouse, near the stables On the corner someone beckoned! Go get 'em Cowboy! You've got 'em now boy!

(End counterpoint)

NEWSIES: Go!

WORLD EMPLOYEE: These is for the newsies!

(The newsies line up for their papes, congratulating Jack on beating the Delancey's)

MORRIS: See you tomorrow, Cowboy

OSCAR: You're as good as dead, Cowboy

JACK: Oh Mr. Weasel.

WEASEL: Alright, alright! Hold your horses! I'm coming, I'm coming.

JACK: So, didja miss me Weasel? Huh, did you miss me?

WEASEL: I told ya a million times, the name's Wisel. Mr. Wisel to you. How many?

JACK: Don't rush me, I'm perusing the merchandise Mr. Weasel. The usual.

WEASEL: 100 papes for the wise guy. Next!

RACETRACK: Morning your honor! Listen, do me a favor, spot me 50 papes? I got a hot tip int the fourth, you won't waste your money.

WEASEL: It's a sure thing?

RACETRACK: Yeah. Not like last time.

WEASEL: 50 papes! Next!

CRUTCHY: Heya Mr. Wisel.

RACETRACK: See anything good this morning?

WEASEL: 30 papes for Crutchy! Next!

JACK:(to Les) You wanna sit down?

DAVID: 20 papers please. Thanks.

RACETRACK: Look at this, 'Baby Born With Two Heads'. Must be from Brooklyn.

WEASEL: Hey, you got your lously papes, now beat it!

DAVID: I paid for twenty. I only got nineteen.

WEASEL: Are you accusing me of lying kid?

DAVID: No. I just want my paper.

MORRIS: He said beat it!

JACK: No, it's nineteen. It's nineteen, but don't worry about it. It's an honest mistake. I mean, Morris here can't count to twenty with his

shoes on. Hey Race, will ya spot me 2 bits? Another 50 for my friend.

DAVID: I don't want another 50.

JACK: Sure you do. Every newsie wants more papes.

DAVID: I don't. I don't want your papes. I don't take charity from anyone. I don't know you. I don't care to. Here are your papes.

LES: Cowboy. They called him Cowboy.

JACK: Yeah, I'm called that and a lot of other things, including Jack Kelly, which is what me mudder called me.what do they call you kid?

LES: Les, and this is my brother David. He's older.

JACK: No kidding. So how old are you Les?

LES: Me? Near 10.

JACK: Near 10. Well, that's no good. if anyone asks, you're 7. You see, younger sells more papes and if we're gonna be partners, we wanna

be the best.

DAVID: Wait. Who said anything about being partners?

JACK: Well, you owe me 2 bits right? Well, I'll consider that an investment. We sell together, we split 70-30, plus you get the benefit of observing me, no charge.

DAVID: Ah-ha.

JACK: (mocking) Ah-ha.

CRUTCHY: You're getting the chance of a lifetime here, Davey. You learn from Jack, you learn from the best.

DAVID: Well, if he's the best, then how come he needs me?

JACK: Listen,I don't need you, pal,but I ain't got a cute little brudder like Les here to front for me. With this kid's puss and my God-given talent, we could move a thousand papes a week. So what do you say Les? You wanna sell papes with me?

LES: Yeah!

JACK: So we got a deal?

DAVID: Wait. It's got to be at least 50-50.

JACK: 60-40, I forget the whole thing.

(David holds out his hand. Jack spits on his hand and reaches for David, who pulls his arm away.)

JACK: What'sa matta?

DAVID: That's disgusting!

(By this time, the rest of the newsies have gotten their papers and are moving out into the street.)

JACK: The name of the game is volume, Dave. You only took twenty papes. Why?

DAVID: Bad headline.

JACK: That's the first thing you gotta learn. Headlines don't sell papes, newsies sell papes. You know, we're what holds this town together.

Without newsies, nobody knows nothing.

(A girl hurries past and the newsies take off their hats and make a few comments)

SPECS: Baby born with three heads!

(The newsies begin to yell out various headlines as the spread out over the streets. We go into Pulitzer's office where Pulitzer is reading the headline. Also in the room is Jonathan, Seitz and another World employee.)

PULITZER: 'Trolly Strike Drags On For Third Week' and this so called headline drags on for infinity.

EMPLOYEE: News is slow, Mr. Pulitzer. The trolly strike's all we've got.

PULITZER: Well, that's all Mr. William Randolph Hearst has too, but look how he covers the strike. Look! Look!

EMPLOYEE: We'll get a new headline writer, sir.

PULITZER: Steal Hearst's man. Offer him double.

SEITZ:  That's how he stole him from us. It's not the headlines, Chief. The circulation wars are cutting into our profits because you spend as much as you make trying to beat Hearst.

PULITZER: Then we need to make more money. You do not penny-pinch when you're in a war, Seitz. Victory means everything. Now, when I created the world... what is that deafening noise?

JONATHAN: Just the newsies, sir. I'll go have them quieted.

PULITZER: Never mind the newsies. Where was I?

SEITZ: Creating the world, Chief.

PULITZER: There's lots of money down there, gentlemen. I want to know how I can get more of it...by tonight.

(We are now in the streets of New York. Jack and David roam through the crowds.)

DAVID: Extra! Extra! Trolly strike drags on!

JACK: Extra! Extra! Ellis Island in flames!

DAVID: Wait, where's that story?

JACK: Thank you sir. Page 9. Thousands flee in panic. Thank you. Much obliged to you ladies.

DAVID 'Trash Fire Next To Immigration Building Terrifies Seagulls'??

JACK: Terrified flight of inferno!! Thousands of lives at stake!  Extra! Extra! Thank you sir. Extra! Extra!

(Les enters)

JACK: Hey, you start in the back like I told you? Ok, show me again.

LES:  (coughs) Buy me last pape, mista?

JACK: It's heartbreaking kid. Go get 'em.

DAVID: My father taught us not to lie.

JACK: Well, mine told me not to starve, so we both got an education.

DAVID: You're just making up things. All these headlines.

JACK: I don't do nothing the guys who write it don't do. Anyway, it's not lying, it's just improving the truth little.

(Warden Snyder enters and see Jack. Les re-enters)

LES: The guy gave me a quarter. Quick, give me some more last papers.

DAVID: Wait, wait. You smell like beer.

LES: Well, that's how I made the quarter. The guy bet me I wouldn't drink some.

JACK: Hey, no drinking on the job. It's bad for business. And what if somebody called the cop on you?

DAVID:  (pointing to Snyder) Is he a friend of your's?

JACK: Beat it! It's the bulls!

LES: All this over one sip of beer?

(Snyder chases Jack, David and Les through the streets, and into a building. They run up the stairs and get to the roof. Without stopping for a second, Jack jumps off the roof, leaving David and Les alone. Jack's head pops up and David and Les join him on a ledge just as Snyder enters.)

SNYDER: Sullivan! Wait til I get you back to the Refuge!

(Jack leads David and Les a little more, when David pulls him to a halt outside Irving Hall)

DAVID: I'm not running any further.

(Jack leads the two brothers inside.)

DAVID: I want some answers.

JACK: Shhh!

DAVID: Who was he and why was he chasing you? And what is this Refuge?

JACK: The Refuge is a jail for kids. That guy chasing me was Snyder, the warden.

LES: You were in jail?

JACK: Yeah.

LES: Why?

JACK: Well, I was starving, so I stole some food.

DAVID: Food?

JACK: Yeah, food.

DAVID: He called you Sullivan.

JACK: Well, my name's Kelly. Jack Kelly. You think I'm lying?

DAVID: Well, you have a way of improving the truth. Why was he chasing you?

JACK: 'Cause I escaped.

LES: Oh boy! How?

JACK: Well, this big shot gave me a ride out in his carriage.

DAVID: I bet it was the mayor.

JACK: No, Teddy Roosevelt. You ever heard of him?

MEDDA: What's going on there? Out! Out! Out!

JACK: You wouldn't kick me out without a kiss goodbye, wouldja Medda?

MEDDA: Oh Kelly. Where ya been, kid? Oh, I miss seeing you up in the balcony.

JACK: Hanging on your every word. So Medda.

MEDDA: Yes.

JACK: This is David and Les.

MEDDA: Hello.

JACK: And this is the greatest star of the vaudeville stage today, Miss Medda Larkson, the Swedish Meadowlark.

MEDDA: Welcome, gentlemen.

JACK: Medda also owns the joint.

MEDDA: Oh, what do we have here? Oh, aren't you the cutest little thing that ever was? Yes you are.

LES:  (cough) Buy me last pape, lady?

MEDDA: Oh, you are good. Oh yes, this kid is really good. Speaking as one professional to another, I'd say you have a great future.

JACK: So, is it alright if we stay here for a little while, Medda? Just until a little problem outside goes away.

MEDDA: Sure,stay as long as you like. Toby, just give my guests whatever they want.

ANNOUNCER: And now gents, the moment you've all been waiting for. The sensational songbird. The Swedish Meadowlark, Miss Medda Larkson.

(Medda goes on stage. Jack, David and Les watch from backstage.)

MEDDA: My lovey dovey baby I boo-hoo-hoo for you I used to be your tootsie-wootsie Then you said 'tooldle-dedoo' I miss the hanky-panky Each nighty-night til three Come back my lovey dovey baby And coochie-coo with me!

(After the show, the boys go outside)

JACK: So, you like that?

DAVID: Oh,I loved that. I loved it. It was great. She is beautiful. How do you know her?

JACK: She was a friend of me fadder's. Come on, Les, you wanna shine me shoes for me?

DAVID: Oh, it's getting late. My parents are going to be worried. What about your's?

JACK: Nah, they're out west looking for a place to live, like this. (Pulls out a Santa Fe brochure) See, that's Santa Fe, New Mexico. As soon as they find the right ranch, they're gonna send for me.

LES: Then you'll be a real cowboy.

JACK: Yup.

(Fire and loud crashes are heard. The boys run and see a riot breaking out. A group of men are beating up another man.)

DAVID: Jack! Why don't we go to my place and divi up. You can meet my folks.

JACK: It's the trolly strike, Dave. These couple of dumb-asses must not have joined or something.

DAVID: Jack, let's get out of here.

JACK: So, maybe we'll get a good headline tomorrow, Dave.  Look at this, he slept the whole way threw it.

(Jack picks up Les from the bench where he fell asleep. They enter David's house.)

ESTER: My God. What happened?

DAVID: Nothing, mama. He's just sleeping.

MAYER: We've been waiting dinner for you. Where have you been? (David puts a pile of coins on the table.)

MAYER: You made all this selling newspapers?

DAVID: Well, half of it's Jack's. This is our selling partner, and our friend. Jack Kelly, my parents. And that's my sister, Sarah.

MAYER: Ester, maybe David's partner would like to join us for dinner. Why don't you add a little more water to the soup?

(He kisses her. She shoves him away playfully)

ESTER: Mayer!

(After dinner, they talk as Sarah clears the table.)

JACK: So, from wat I saw today, you're boys are a couple of born newsies. Can I have some more?

SARAH: Yes.

JACK: So with their hard work and my experience,I figure we can peddle a thousand papes a week and not even break a sweat.

MAYER: That many?

JACK: More when the headline's good.

SARAH: So what makes the headline good?

JACK: Oh, you know. Catchy words like maniac, or corpse, umm..lovenest, or nude. Excuse me. Maybe I'm talkin' too much.

MAYER:  Sarah? Go get the cake your mother's hiding in the cabinet.

ESTER: That's for your birthday tomorrow!

MAYOR: Well, I've had enough birthdays. This is a celebration.

DAVID: I'll get the knife.

SARAH: I got the plates.

DAVID: This is only the beginning, papa. The longer I work, the more money I'll make.

MAYER: You'll only work until I go back to the factory, and then you are going back to school, like you promised.

SARAH:  Happy birthday, papa.

MAYER: This is going to heal, and they'll give me my job back. We'll make them

(Les stirs, but doesn't wake up in bed.)

LES: Come back my lovey dovey baby And coochie-coo with me!

(David and Jack start laughing)

ESTER: And what is this David?

(The boys try to stop laughing, but can't. Scene:  LATER THAT NIGHT, on David's fire escape)

JACK: So, how'd your pop get hurt?

DAVID: At the factory. It was an accident. He's no good to them anymore, so they just fired him.

(Mayer appears at the window.)

MAYER: David, it's time to come in now.

DAVID: Alright. Jack, why don't you stay here tonight?

JACK: Ah, no, thanks. I got a place of my own. But you're family's real nice, like mine.

DAVID: See you tomorrow.

JACK: Alright.

DAVID: Carrying the banner.

JACK: Carrying the banner.

(David goes inside, leaving Jack alone on the fire escape. He looks in the window and see the family together.)

JACK: So that's what they call a family Mudder, fadder, daughter, son Guess everything you heard about it's true. So you ain't got any family Well, who said you needed one? Ain'tcha glad nobody's waiting up for you? When I dream on my own I'm alone, but I ain't lonely For a dreamer, night's the only time of day When the city's finally sleeping When my thoughts begin to stray And I'm on the train that bound for Santa Fe And I'm free Like the wind Like I'm gonna live forever. It's a feeling time can never take away All I need's a few more dollars And I'm outta here to stay Dreams come true Yes they do In Santa Fe Where does it say you've gotta live and die here? Where does it say a guy can't catch a break? Why should you only take what you're given? Why should you spend your whole life livin' Trapped where there ain't no future Even at seventeen Breaking your back for someone else's sake If the life don't seem to suit ya How bout a change of scene? Far from the lously headlines And the deadlines in between Santa Fe Are you there? Do you swear you won't forget me? If I found you would you let me come and stay? I ain't getting any younger And before my dying day I want space Not just air Let 'em laugh in my face, I don't care Save a place I'll be there So that's what they call a family? Ain'tcha glad you ain't that way? Ain'tcha glad you got a dream called Santa Fe?

(Jack ends up outside the Lodging House. As he enters, he meets up with Racetrack)

JACK: Heya Race.

RACETRACK: Hey Jack.

JACK: How was your day at the track?

RACETRACK: Remember that hot tip I told you about? Nobody told the horse.

(Pulitzer, Seitz and Jonathan are sitting it Pulitzer's office.)

PULITZER: I know we need to make more money. That's why we're here, to find out how to make more money.

JONATHAN: I have several proposals. First, to increase the paper's price.

PULITZER: Then Hearst outsells me and I'm in the poorhouse. Brilliant, Jonathan, brilliant.

JONATHAN: Not the customer's price. The price to the distribution apparatus.

SEITZ: Charge the newsies more for their papers? Bad idea, Chief.

JONATHAN: Very well. My next proposal, salary cuts. Particularly those at the top.

SEITZ:  Very bad idea, Chief.

PULITZER: Wait. What do the newsies pay now? 50 cents for 100 papers? If you raise it to 60 cents..

JONATHAN: A mere tenth of a cent per paper.

PULITZER: Multiply by 40, 000 papers a day?  7 days a week?.

JONATHAN: It definitely adds up, sir.

SEITZ:  If you do this, every newsie we've got will head straight for Hearst.

PULITZER: You don't know Hearst like I do, Seitz. As newspapermen, he and I would cut each other's throats to get an advantage. But as gentlemen, as businessmen, if also see eye to eye on certain things. Now, if we do it, Hearst and I, if we do it, then the other papers will do it.

SEITZ: It's going to be awfully tough on those children.

PULITZER: Nonsense, nonsense. It'll be good for them. Incentive, make them work harder, sell more papers. They'll look on it as an advantage.

(Outside the World building, the newsies have gathered. Jack joins them)

KID BLINK: They jacked up the price! You hear that Jack? Ten cents a hundred! You know, it's bad enough that we gotta eat what we don't sell, now they jack up the price! Can you believe that?

SKITTERY: This'll bust me, I'm barely making a living right now.

BOOT: I'll be back sleeping on the streets.

MUSH: It don't make no sense. I mean, all the money Pulitzer's making, why would he gouge us?

RACETRACK: Because he's a tight wad, that's why!

JACK: Pipe down, it's just a gag. So, why the jack up Weasel?

WEASEL: Why not? It's a nice day. Why don'tcha ask Mr. Pulitzer?

KID BLINK: They can't to this to me Jack.

RACETRACK: They can do whatever they want. It's their stinkin' paper.

BOOTS: It ain't fair. We got no rights at all.

RACETRACK: Come on, it's a rigged deck. They got all the marbles.

MUSH: Jack, we got no choice, so why don't we get our lousy papes while they still got some, huh?

JACK: No! Nobody's going anywhere. They can't get away with this!

LES: Give him some room, give him some room. Let him think.

RACETRACK: Jack, you done thinkin' yet?

WEASEL: Hey! Hey! Hey! World employees only on this side of the gate!

JACK: Well, listen. One thing for sure, if we don't sell papes, then nobody sells papes. Nobody comes through those gates until they put the price back to where it was.

DAVID: You mean like a strike?

JACK: Yeah, like a strike!

RACETRACK: Are you out of your mind?

JACK: It's a good idea!

DAVID: Jack, I was only joking. We can't go on strike, we don't have a union.

JACK: But, if we go on strike, then we are a union, right?

DAVID: No, we're just a bunch of angry kids with no money. Maybe if we got every newsie in New York, but...

JACK: Yeah, well we organize. Crutchy, you take up for collection. We get all the newsies of New York together.

DAVID: Jack, this isn't a joke. You saw what happened to those trolley workers.

JACK: Yeah, well that's another good idea. Any newsie don't join with us, then we bust their heads like the trolley workers.

DAVID: Stop and think about this Jack. You can't just rush everybody into this

JACK: Alright. Let me think about it. Listen. Dave's right. Pulitzer and Hearst and all them other rich fellas, I mean, they own this city, so do they really think a bunch of street kids like us can make any difference? The choice has got to be yours. Are we just gonna take what they give us, or are we gonna strike?

LES: Strike!

BOOTS: Keep talking Jack, tell us what to do!

JACK: Well, you tell us what to do Davey.

DAVID: Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect our rights.

JACK: Hey listen! Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect the rights of the working boys of New York! Well, that worked pretty good, so what else?

DAVID: Tell them that they can't treat us like we don't exist.

(Begin Song)

JACK: Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we're nothing. Are we nothing?

NEWSIES: No!

DAVID: If we stick together like the trolley workers then they can't break us up.

JACK: Pulitzer and Hearst, they think they got us. Do they got us?

NEWSIES: No!

DAVID: We're a union now, the Newsboys Union. We have to start acting like a union.

JACK: Even though we ain’t got hats or badges We’re a union just by saying so And the World will know!

BOOTS: What’s to start somebody else from selling our papes?

JACK: Well, what’s wrong with them?

RACETRACK: Some of them don’t hear so good!

JACK: Well then we’ll soak ‘em!

DAVID: No! We can’t beat up kids in the streets. It’ll give us a bad name.

CRUTCHY: Can’t get any worse.

JACK: What’s it gonna take to stop the wagons? Are we ready?

NEWSIES: Yeah!

DAVID: No!

JACK: What’s it gonna take to stop the scabber? Can we do it?

NEWSIES: Yeah!

JACK: We’ll do what we gotta do until we Break the will of mighty Bill and Joe!

NEWSIES: And the World will know And the Journal too! Mr. Hearst and Pulitzer Have we got news for you! Now the World will hear What we’ve got to say We’ve been hawking headlines But we’re making ‘em today. And our ranks will grow!

CRUTCHY: And we’ll kick their rear!

NEWSIES: And the World will know that we been here!

JACK: When the circulation bell starts ringing Will we hear it?

NEWSIES: No!

JACK: What if the Delancey’s come out swinging’ Will we hear it?

NEWSIES: No! When you’ve got a hundred voices singing Who can hear a lousy whistle blow? And the World will know That this ain’t no game That we got a ton of rotten fruit and perfect aim So they gave their word But it ain’t worth beans! Now they’re gonna see what ‘stop the presses’ really mean And the day has come And the time is now And the fear is gone

BOOTS: And their name is mud!

NEWSIES:  And the strike is on

BOOTS: And I can't stand blood!

NEWSIES: And the World will..

JACK: Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won’t whip us!

NEWSIES: Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won’t whip us! And the World will know And the World will learn And the World will wonder how We made the tables turn And the World will see That we had to choose That the things we do today Will be tomorrow’s news And the old will fall And the young stand tall And the time is now And the winds will blow And our ranks will grow And grow and grow and so The World will feel the fire And finally know!

NEWSIES: Strike! Strike! Strike! (etc.)

JACK: We gotta get word out to all the newsies of New York. I need some of those….what’dja call ‘em?

DAVID: Ambassadors?

JACK: Yeah, right. Okay, you guys, you gotta be ambastards and go tell the other that we’re on strike.

KID BLINK: Say, Jack, I’ll take Harlem

RACETRACK: Yeah, I got Midtown.

MUSH: I got the Battery, Jack.

CRUTCHY: Hey, I’ll take the Bronx.

JACK: Alright. And Bumlets, and Specs and Skittery, you take Queens.  Pie Eater! Snoddy! East Side! Snipeshooter, you go with ‘em. So, what about Brooklyn? Come on, Spot Conlon’s territory. What’sa matta? You scared of Brooklyn?

BOOTS: Hey, we ain’t scared of Brooklyn. Spot Conlon makes us a little nervous.

JACK: Well, he don’t make me nervous. So you and me, Boots, we’ll go to Brooklyn. And Dave here can keep us company.

DAVID: Sure, just as soon as you delivery our demands to Pulitzer.

JACK: Me? To Pulitzer?

DAVID: You’re the leader, Jack.

JACK: Well, maybe the kid’ll soften him up.

(Jack and Les enter the World Building. The newsies cheer)

NEWSIES: Strike! Strike! Strike! (etc.)

(The newsies go off in different directions. Denton enters and approaches David.)

DENTON: Hey, what is the strike? What’s going on?

DAVID: We’re bringing out demands to Pulitzer.

DENTON: What demands?

DAVID: The newsies demands. We’re on strike.

DENTON: I’m with the New York Sun. Bryan Denton. You seem like the kid in charge. What’s your name?

DAVID: David

DENTON: David. David as in David and Goliath? You really think old man Pulitzer’s going to listen to your demands?

DAVID: He has to. (Jack and Let thrown out the door.)

JACK: Well, so’s your old lady! You tell Pulitzer he needs an appointment with me!

LES: Yeah!

(Jack, David, Les and Denton are sitting in a booth in Tibby’s Restaurant.)

JACK: So this snooty mug says to me, ‘You can’t see Mr. Pulitzer. No one sees Mr. Pulitzer.’ Real hoity-toity, you know the type?

LES: Real hoity-toity.

JACK: So that’s when I says to him, ‘Listen, I ain’t in the habit of transacting no business with office boys. Just tell him Jack Kelly’s here to see him now!’

LES: That’s when he threw us out.

DENTON: Does he scare you? You’re going up against the most powerful man in New York City.

JACK: Oh yeah, look at me. I’m trembling.

DENTON: Alright, keep me informed. I want to know everything that’s going on.

DAVID: Are we really an important story?

DENTON: Well, what’s important? Last year I covered the war in Cuba. Charged up San Juan Hill with Col. Teddy Roosevelt. That was an important story. So, is the newsie’s strike important? That all depends on you.

JACK: So my name’s really gonna be in the papers?

DENTON: Any objections?

JACK: Not as long as you get it right. It’s Kelly, Jack Kelly. Oh, and Denton? No pictures.

DENTON: Sure Jack. (Jack, David and Boots start across the Brooklyn Bridge.)

DAVID: I’ve never been to Brooklyn, have you?

BOOTS: I spent a month there on night.

(Jack and Boots lean over the side and scream at the top of their lungs.)

DAVID: So, is this Spot Conlon really dangerous?

(The boys get to Brooklyn. There are a lot of tough looking boys.)

BROOKLYN NEWSIE: Going somewhere, Kelly?

(Jack pushes past him. David and Boots follow.)

SPOT: Well, if it ain’t Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.

JACK: I see you moved up in the world, Spot. Got a river view and everything.

(The two boys spit-shake.)

SPOT: Heya Boots. How’s it rollin’?

BOOTS: I got a couple of real good shooters.

(Spot takes the marbles and takes out his sling shot.)

SPOT: Yeah. So, Jacky-boy. I’ve been hearing things from little birds. Things from Harlem, Queens, all over. They been chirpin’ in my ear.  Jacky-boy’s newsies is playing like they’re going on strike.

JACK: Yeah, well we are.

DAVID: We’re not playing. We are going on strike.

SPOT: Oh yeah? Yeah? What is this, Jacky-boy? Some kind of walking mouth?

JACK: Yeah, it’s a mouth. A mouth with a brain, and if you got half a one, you’ll listen to what he’s got to say.

DAVID: Well, we started the strike, but we can’t do it alone. So, we’re talking to newsies all around the city.

SPOT: Yeah, so they told me. But what’d they tell you?

DAVID: They’re waiting to see what Spot Conlon is doing, you’re the key. That Spot Conlon is the most respected and famous newsie in all of New York, and probably everywhere else. And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they join and we’ll be unstoppable. So you gotta join, I mean... well, you gotta!

SPOT: You’re right Jacky-boy, brains. But I got brains too, and more than just half a one. How do I know you punks won’t run the first time some goon comes at ya with a club? How do I know you got what it takes to win?

JACK: Because I’m telling you, Spot.

SPOT: That ain’t good enough Jacky-boy. You gotta show me.

(The boys go back to Newsies Square, where the rest of the newsies wait.)

RACETRACK: Jack. So, where’s Spot?

JACK: He was concerned about us being serious. You imagine that?

RACETRACK: Well, Jack, maybe we ought to ease off a little. Without Spot and the others, there ain’t enough of us, Jack.

MUSH: Maybe we’re moving too soon. Maybe we ain’t ready, you know?

SKITTERY: I definitely think we should forget about it for a little while.

JACK: Oh, do ya?

SKITTERY: Yeah.

RACETRACK: Yeah, I mean, without Brooklyn… you know?

JACK: Spot was right, is this just a game to you guys?

(Begin Song)

DAVID: Open the gates and seize the day Don’t be afraid and don’t delay Nothing can break us No one can make us Give our rights away Arise and seize the day!

DAVID AND NEWSIES: Now is the time to seize the day Send out the call and join the fray

DAVID: Wrongs will be righted if we’re united

DAVID AND NEWSIES: Let us seize the day! Friends of the friendless seize the day Raise up the torch and light the way Proud and defiant We’ll slay the giant Let us seize the day

Neighbor to neighbor Father to son One for all and all for one! Open the gates and seize the day Don’t be afraid and don’t delay Nothing can break us No one can make us Give our rights away Neighbor to neighbor Father to son! One for all and all for one!

(The circulation bell begins to ring)

JACK Anybody hear that?

NEWSIES No!

JACK: So what are we gonna do about it?

NEWSIES: Soak ‘em!

(The newsies and the scabbers have a stand off. 3 scabs join with the newsies, but then a bug scab comes up against Jack. He tries to get by, but can’t. The newsies start soaking the scabs, who eventually run away. They tear up the newspapers. Jack starts making faces and blowing raspberries at Weasel, Oscar and Morris through the distribution window.)

MORRIS: I’m gonna crack your dome!

(The tearing of newspapers continue. A delivery cart is pushed onto it’s side. Weasel calls for the cops, who enter blowing whistles.)

JACK: Cheese it! Cheese it, it’s the bulls!

(All the newsies run, except Crutchy, who doesn’t notice)

RACETRACK: Crutchy! Scram! Scram!

(Crutchy starts to leave, but is blocked in by cops. He turns to find the Delancey brothers behind him. They knock his crutch aside and drag him away. Denton has been watching all of this. THAT NIGHT- Jack and David walk to the Refuge. Jack has a rope in his hands)

JACK: So here it is. The Refuge. My home, sweet home.

DAVID: How can you be sure they sent him here?

JACK: How can I be sure the Delancey’s stink? It’s just how things work, you know? An orphan gets arrested, Snyder makes sure he gets sent straight here, so he can rehabilitate him. The more kids in the Refuge, the more money the city sends to take care of them, the more Snyder sticks it in his pocket. He’s here.

DAVID: So how come you brought the rope?

(A carriage exits the Refuge. Jack and David hind in the shadows. As the guard talks with the nuns, the two boys sneak by. On the roof, David lowers Jack, who has the rope tied around his waist. Jack gets level with the window.)

JACK: Steady. Steady, Dave. That’s good.

(Jack knocks on the window. A boy around Les’s age opens it.)

TEN PIN: Hey. Cowboy. You miss the joint?

JACK: What do ya say, Ten Pin. You got a new guy in here. Crutchy.

TEN PIN: The gimp? I’ll get him for ya.

JACK: Hey Crutchy.

(With the help of a boy, Crutchy limps to the window.)

CRUTCHY: I don’t believe it. What are you hanging around here for?

JACK: What do you mean what am I hangin’ around here for? You know who’s on the roof?

CRUTCHY: Who?

JACK: Dave.

CRUTCHY: Is that Dave? Heya Dave! How ya doin’?

DAVID:: Shhh.

JACK: Listen, Crutchy, go get your stuff. We’re gonna get you outta here.

CRUTCHY: Well, actually, I ain’t walking so good. Oscar and Morris kindda worked me over a little bit, you know?

JACK: They hurt you? Don’t worry about it. Me and Dave, we can carry you outta here.

CRUTCHY: I don’t want nobody carrying me, you hear? Hey, Dave! You know, they still talk about how Jack rode outta here on that coach.

DAVID: Oh, yeah. Teddy Roosevelt’s, right?

CRUTCHY: You already heard the story.

DAVID: You mean it’s true?

CRUTCHY: Of course. Hey! Cheese it!

(Snyder enters and inspects the room. Jack swings to the side, out of site. As Snyder is about to look out the window, Crutchy grabs his arm.)

CRUTCHY: Mr. Warden Snyder, sir. You know, I was thinking. I’d just like you to know that when you were taking a nap this afternoon…

(Crutchy leads Snyder away from the window and Jack leaves. THE NEXT MORNING- Pulitzer, Weasel and Seitz are inside Pulitzer’s office.)

SEITZ: I don’t think they’re just going to go away, Chief.

WEASEL: Mr. Pulitzer, sir, just give me the means and I’ll take care of them for ya.

PULITZER: I’ll give you whatever means you require. I want this nonsense down with once and for all.

SEITZ: Chief…

PULITZER: Shut you mouth, Seitz

(Weasel and Seitz leave. Snyder looks out the window to the square where the newsies have gathered.)

NEWSIES: Open the gates and seize the day Don’t be afraid and don’t delay Nothing can break us No one can make us Give our rights away Arise and seize the day

(The boys dance in the square and block the entrance to the World building. A delivery cart rushes through. The newsies and scabs have another stand off.)

DAVID: Alright. Everyone remain calm.

JACK: Let’s soak ‘em for Crutchy!

(The newsies charge towards the scabs, who retreat. A large door opens and big men with clubs and chains come out)

RACETRACK: Jack! Jack!, the Crib!

(the men form a circle around Jack so none of the newsies can help him. The gates shut and Denton can’t get in to help.)

OSCAR: Heya Jacky-boy (Jack faces a man with a chain. Outside, Denton tried to get in.)

DENTON: Aren’t you going to stop them, sir?

POLICEMAN: Move along, mister.

(Just as all hope seems lost for Jack, a bunch of newsies appear on the rooftops, including Spot.)

SPOT: Never fear, Brooklyn is here.

MUSH: It’s Brooklyn!

(The newsies start to soak the Crib, the Brooklyn boys using their sling shots. Racetrack throws his hands in the air and sit on a ledge….)

RACETRACK: Hey, I give up. Alright, alright. I give up.

(…then kicks the guy *you know where*)

JACK: Hey, Spot!

(Shots of Newsies punching the scabs. First Racetrack, then Jack, Kid Blink and another. Skittery get hits and falls back. Newsies catch him)

DAVID: Are you alright?

(Before he can answer, the newsies push him back up and he punches the man back. Spot opens the gates and the Brooklyn gang join. They force the Crib back. The newsies cheer and tear some more papers. Denton enters with him camera.)

DENTON: Jack! Boys! Freeze! Freeze!

JACK: Alright guys

(Denton takes the picture. Jack is the only one ready for it. The others all have weird expressions on their faces. The picture turns black and white and appears on the cover of the New York Sun under the headline ‘The Children’s Crusade; Newsies Stop the World’. NEXT DAY- The newsies are in Tibby’s. Denton enters with the paper.)

DENTON: Hey fellas. Hey, hey! Big time.

BOOTS: What you got there Jack?

SPOT: Where’s me picture? Where’s me picture?

BOOTS: What’s that? That all about us?

MUSH: Look at that Jack. You look like a gentlemen

JACK: Will you get your fingers off me face?

SPOT: Where does it say my name? Where’s my name?

JACK: Will you quit thinking about yourself?

DAVID: You got us on the front page!

DENTON: You got yourselves on the front page. I just got to make sure you stay there.

SKITTERY: So what. You get your picture in the papes, so what’s that get you, huh?

MUSH: What are you talkin’ about?

JACK: Shut up, boy. You been in a bad mood all day!

SKITTERY: I’m not in a bad mood!

RACETRACK: Glum and dumb. What’s the matta with you?  You get your picture in the papes, your famous. Your famous, you get anything you want. That’s what so great about New York!

(Begin Song)

MUSH: A pair of new shoes with matching laces

RACETRACK: A permanent box at Sheepshed Races.

SPOT: A porcelain tub with boiling water

KID BLINK: A Saturday night with the mayor’s daughter!

RACETRACK: Look at me I’m the King of New York! Suddenly I’m respectable Staring right atcha Lousy with stature

JACK: Nubbin’ with all the muckety-mucks I’m blowin’ my dough and goin’ deluxe!

RACETRACK: And there I’ll be Ain’t I pretty?

RACETRACK & JACK: It’s my city I’m the king of New York!

BOOTS: A corduroy suit with fitted knickers

LES: A mezzanine seat to see the flickers

SNIPESHOOTER: Havana cigars that cost a quarter

DAVID: An editor’s desk for our star reporter!

NEWSIES: Tip your hat He’s the King of New York!

DENTON: How ‘bout that? I’m the King of New York!

NEWSIES: In nothing flat He’ll be covering Brooklyn to Trenton Our man Denton

KID BLINK: Making a headline out of a hunch

DENTON: Protecting the weak

RACETRACK: And paying for lunch

DENTON: When I’m at bat Strong men crumble

RACETRACK: Proud yet humble

DENTON & RACETRACK: I’m/He’s the King of New York

NEWSIES: I gotta be either dead or dreaming ’Cuz look at that pape with my face beaming Tomorrow they may wrap fishes in it But I was a star for one whole minute! Starting now I’m the King of New York!

DENTON: Ain’t you hear? I’m the King of New York!

NEWSIES: Holy cow! It’s a miracle Pulitzer’s crying Weasel? He’s dying! Flashpots are shooting bright as the sun I’m one hifalutin’ sonuva gun! Don’t ask me how Fortune found me Fate just crowned me Now I’m King of New York! Look and see Once a piker Now a striker I’m the Kin of New York! Victory! Front page story Guts and glory I’m the King of New York!

(The newsies cheer and gather around a table)

JACK: So, let’s have some ideas.

DAVID: Well, we gotta show people where we stand

JACK: Yeah, so we gotta stay in the papes.

DENTON: My paper’s the only one printing any strike news so far

JACK: So, we should do something that’s so big the other papers’ll feel stupid if they try to ignore us. Like a rally. A newsie rally with all the kids from all over New York. It’ll be the biggest, loudest, noisiest blow-out this town’s ever seen!

DAVID: We’ll send a message to the big boys

RACETRACK: Geesh, I’ll give ‘em a message.

(A waiter brings a tray of cokes. Each newsie grabs a glass.)

JACK: There’s a lot of us, and we ain’t going away. We’ll fight until damn Doomsday if it means we get a fair shake.

DAVID: Hey, guys. To out man Denton.

NEWSIES: Our man Denton!

(The newsies lift their glasses in a toast. IN THE REFUGE- Crutchy knocks on Snyder’s door and enters.)

CRUTCHY: Heya Mr. Snyder. How was your supper?

(As he begins to put the plates on a tray, Crutchy notices Snyder looking at the paper, particularly at Jack’s picture.)

CRUTCHY: Hey! That’s Jack. He looks just like himself.

SNYDER: You know this boy?

CRUTCHY: No.

SNYDER: You have a very famous friend, this Jack. Do you know where he lives?

CRUTCHY: I never heard of him, honest! It’s this brain of mine, it’s always making mistakes. It’s got a mind of it’s own. Can I get you anything else, Mr. Snyder? Good bye Mr. Snyder.

(Crutchy leaves, realizing his mistake. THAT NIGHT- The newsies are making signs for the rally. Dutchy’s sign says ‘STRIKE’)

DUTCHY: So, did I spell it right, Kloppman?

KLOPPMAN: Very good, very good.

(Snyder enters and starts going through Kloppman’s book)

KLOPPMAN: Excuse me. Can I help you?

SNYDER: You have a boy who calls himself Jack Kelly? I wish to see him

KLOPPMAN: Jack Kelly? Never heard of him. Never heard of him. Any of you boys ever hear of a Jack Kelly?

SPECS: That’s an unusual name for these parts.

(Jack enters, but Swifty stops him and points Snyder out to him)

RACETRACK: Oh, you mean Jack Kelly. Yeah, he was here, but he put an egg in his shoe and beat it.

SNYDER: I have reason to believe he’s an escaped prisoner, possibly dangerous.

KLOPPMAN: Oh, dangerous? I better look in my files. This way please.

(Kloppman distracts Snyder and Jack exits. The boys hold up signs to hide him)

RACETRACK: Give to the Newsies Strike fund, Mister?

(Snyder hands Racetrack a coin. THE NEXT MORNING- Sarah wakes up and looks out the window. She sees Jack on the fire escape)

SARAH: Did you sleep out there all night?

JACK: Yeah

SARAH: Why didn’t you wake us up?

JACK: Well, I didn’t want to disturb nobody. Besides, it’s like the Waldorph out here. Great view. Cool air

SARAH: Go up on the roof.

(Jack leaves so Sarah can get dressed. While he waits, he boxes with some stockings and steals a tomato off a plant. Sarah enters with a basket.)

SARAH: Are you hungry?

JACK: Yeah

SARAH: Good. I made you breakfast

(She lays down a clothe and gets the food and milk.)

SARAH: Papa’s so proud of you and David. You should hear him talking about Jack Kelly, strike leader, who occasionally takes his meal with us.

JACK: Well, this is one strike leader who’s gonna be very happy when it’s all over and I can get outta here and go to Santa Fe. I mean, there’s nothing for me to stay for, is there? You know, you should se Santa Fe, everything’s different there. It’s all bigger. The desert, the sky, the sun

SARAH: It’s the same sun as here

JACK: Yeah, it just looks different

SARAH: I should get ready for work

JACK: Sarah? I’m just not used to having whether I stay or whether I go matta to anybody. I’m not saying it should matta to you. I’m just saying, well, does it? Matta?

(Pulitzer is in his office with the Mayor, the Police Chief, Snyder and Seitz. He is looking at the paper and has Jack’s face circled.)

MAYOR: Of course, the city is very concerned that this event doesn’t get out of hand. But…Chief?

CHIEF: We can’t just charge in there and break it up, Mr. Pulitzer. We’ve got no legal cause.

MAYOR: Legal cause.

PULITZER: Would the fact that this rally is organized by an escaped criminal be cause enough, mayor?

MAYOR: Escaped criminal?

PULITZER: A fugitive from one of your prisons, mayor. A convicted thief. Been living at large for some time under the allis of Jack Kelly. What’s his real name?

SNYDER: Sullivan. Francis Sullivan. Your honor. I would have caught him before now, but..

PULITZER: You know Warder Snyder, don’t you mayor? I believe you know him because you appointed him.

MAYOR: Yes. Well, if this boy’s a fugitive then the chief can quietly arrest him.

PULITZER: No, no, no, no! Not quietly! Not quietly! I want an example made. I want this rabble he’s roused to see what happens to those who would dare to lead. They should see justice and action.

MAYOR: Arrest him at the rally?

PULITZER: By the way, mayor, a few friends for cards tonight. Newspaper friends. Billy Hearst, Gordon Bennett. Perhaps you’ll join us.  Talk about the coming election.

MAYOR: I’d be honored.

(Newsies are gathering outside Irving Hall. Inside, Jack, David and Spot are on stage. Jack quiets everyone)

JACK: Carryin’ the banner!

(The newsies stand up and cheer.

MEANWHILE- In Pulitzer’s study, men are sitting at a table, playing cards. Pulitzer leads the mayor around the table)

PULITZER: You know Gordon, mayor. Mr. Bennett of the Tribune. Mr. Taylor of the Times. Of course, you know Mr. Hearst. This is a new member of our little group, Mr. Gammon. He just came back from Europe. Mr. Gammon owns the New York Sun.

(Back in the theater, Jack is giving a speech.)

JACK: So, we’ve come a long way, but we ain’t there yet and maybe it’s only gonna get tougher from now on. But that’s fine, we’ll just get tougher with it. But also, we gotta get smart and start listening to my pal David, who says ‘stop soakin’ the scabs’.

RACETRACK: What are we supposed to do to the bums? Kiss ‘em?

SPOT: Any scab I see I soak ‘em. Period.

DAVID: No, no. That’s what they want us to do. If we get violent, it’s just playing into their hands.

SPOT: Hey, look. They’re gonna be playing with my hands, alright. 'Cuz it ain’t what they say, it’s what we say. And nobody ain’t gonna listen to us unless we make ‘em.

(Newsies in the crowd take different sides and start to argue.)

JACK: You got no brains. Why we starting to fight each other? It’s just what the big shot’s wanna see. That we’re street rats! Street rats with no brain’s. No respect for nothing, including ourselves! So, here’s how it’s gonna be. If we don’t act together, then we’re nothing. If we don’t stick together, then we’re nothing. And if we can’t even trust each other, then we’re nothing.

KID BLINK: Tell ‘em Jack!

JACK: So, what’s it gonna be?

RACETRACK: We’re with you Jack.

JACK: So, what about you, Spot?

SPOT: I say that what you say is what I say.

(The spit-shake. All the newsies cheer. The curtains open and Medda enters. The cheering gets louder.)

MEDDA & NEWSIES: High times, hard times Sometimes the living is sweet And sometimes there’s nothing to eat But I always land on my feet So when there’s dry times I wait for high times and then I put on my best And I stick out my chest And I’m off to the race’s again!

MEDDA: Hello, newsies. What’s new?

(Outside, the Crib and police are gathering. Snyder enters)

MEDDA: So your old lady don’t love you no more So you’re afraid there’s a wolf at your door So you’ve got street rats that scream in your ear

MEDDA & NEWSIES: You win some, you lose some my dear, Oh… High times, hard times Sometimes the living is sweet And sometimes there’s nothing to eat But I always land on my feet So when there’s dry times I wait for high times and then I put on my best And I stick out my chest And I’m off to the races again

MEDDA: I put on my best!

NEWSIES: I put on my best!

MEDDA: And I stick out my chest

NEWSIES: And I sticks out my chest

MEDDA: And I’m off

NEWSIES: And I’m off

MEDDA: And I’m off

NEWSIES: And I’m off

MEDDA: And I’m off

ALL: To the races again!

(The police block off the entrance to the theater. Denton sees Snyder and tries to keep him busy)

DENTON: Excuse me. Aren’t you Warden Snyder? Bryan Denton of the Sun. How do you do, sir?

(David sees Snyder and tells Spot)

DENTON: I heard about your wonderful work with the children and I wondered if I might get an interview with you

(David rushes through the crowd to Jack)

DAVID: Jack! Jack! It’s Snyder!

JACK: What?

DAVID: It’s Snyder. Right there!

(Denton tries to distract Snyder one more time. This time with his camera)

DENTON: Let me get that correct. That’s Snyder, as in snide? Smile sir!

(The flash blinds him for a minute, then he blows his whistle.)

JACK: Medda, thanks. I gotta run.

(Cops come in and the newsies scatter. Jack take’s Sarah’s hand and pulls her through the crowd. Racetrack gets Medda to safety and start to leave)

MEDDA: No! Stay with me!

(A huge man kicks Racetrack in the stomach and punches him out. Medda breaks away from her maid and slaps the man)

MEDDA: No! No! For God’s sake! He’s just a child! Can’t you see that? Racetrack!

(Medda is pulled back and Racetrack is dragged away. Jack and David get Sarah and Les to safety. Then turn back to fight. Everywhere they go, they are surrounded by cops or the crib. By Medda’s swing, they meet up with Snyder. David sits on the swing.)

DAVID: Push me!

(Jack shoves David, who hits Snyder in the face.)

DAVID: Get out of here! Go!

(Jack runs as David and some other newsies hold Snyder off. Jack and Kid Blink run outside and find they are surrounded by cops. One of them grabs for Jack, but Kid Blink shoves him away.)

KID BLINK: Beat it!

(Jack runs back inside. Kid Blink gets hit with a club and is dragged away. Jack starts to run up the stairs, but a man meets him at the top and punches him in the chin. Jack falls back and is caught by cops. THE NEXT DAY- the newsies are in court.)

BAILIFF: All rise. All rise. Court is now in session. Judge E.A. Monahan presiding. MONAHAN: Are any of you boys represented by council? No? Good, that will move things along considerably.

SPOT: Hey, yer honor, I object!

MONAHAN: On what grounds?

SPOT: On the grounds of Brooklyn, yer honor.

(The newsies crack up laughing. Monahan bangs on his desk.)

MONAHAN: I fine each of you five dollars, or two weeks confinement in the House of Refuge.

RACETRACK: Whoa. We ain’t got five bucks. We don’t even got five cents. Hey, yer honor, how ‘bout I roll you for it. Double or nothing?

MONAHAN: Alright. Move along, move along.

(Denton, David and Les enter)

DENTON: Your honor, I’ll pay the fines. All of them.

DAVID: Hey, you fellas alright? Where’s Jack?

DENTON: Look, we’ve got to meet at the restaurant. Everybody. We have to talk.

MONAHAN: Pay the clerk. Move it along.

(Jack is lead in, handcuffed)

JACK: Hey fellas!

RACETRACK: Hey, Cowboy! Nice shiner!

JACK: Hey, Denton. I guess we made all the papes this time. So, how’s my picture look?

DENTON: None of the papers covered the rally. Not even the Sun.

BAILIFF: Case of Jack Kelly. Inciting a riot. Assault. Resisting arrest.

SNYDER: Judge Monahan, I’ll speak for this young man.

JACK: You two know each other. Ain’t that nice.

MONAHAN: Just move it along, Warden Snyder.

SNYDER: This boy’s real name is Francis Sullivan. His mother’s deceased. His father’s a convict in the state penitentiary. He’s an escapee from the House of Refuge where his original sentence for three months was extended to six moths for disruptive behavior.

JACK: Like demanding we eat the food you steal from us.

SNYDER: Followed by an additional six months for attempted escape.

JACK: Attempted? Last time it wasn’t an attempted escape. Remember Snyder? Remember me and Teddy Roosevelt? Remember Roosevelt and the carriage?

SNYDER: Therefore, I ask that he be returned to the House of Refuge.

JACK: What? For my own good, right? Move it along? For my own good and for what he kicks back to you!

SNYDER: I ask that the court order his incarceration until the age of twenty-one, in the hope that we may yet guide him to a useful and productive life.

MONAHAN: So ordered.

LES: No!

(Jack is led away. Snyder follows, then turns and smiles at the judge. LATER- The newsies sit in Tibby’s. Denton enters. They greet him)

DAVID: Why didn’t the Sun print the story?

DENTON: Because it never happened

RACETRACK: What do you mean it never happened? You were there!

KID BLINK: You wrote it!

DENTON: It’s not in the papers, it never happened. The owners decreed it not be in the papers, therefore… I came to tell you fellas good bye.

DAVID: What happened? Did you get fired or something?

DENTON: No, I got reassigned back to my old job as the Sun’s ace war correspondent. They want me to leave right away. The owner thinks I should only cover the really important stories. Wish me luck fellas. At least half of what I wish for you. They don’t always fire. I would be black balled from every paper in the country. I’m a newspaper man. I have to have a paper to write for. This is the story I wrote about the rally. I want you to read it at least. This should cover it

(Denton pays the waiter and leaves. David crumples the story up and throws it on a table)

DAVID: We get Jack out of the Refuge tonight. From now on, we trust no one but the newsies.

(The newsies get up and leave. Les uses Denton’s article to wrap his unfinished hot dog in. THAT NIGHT- David, Les, Mush, Kid Blink, Racetrack and Boots sneak into the Refuge’s gates. Kid Blink had a rope.)

DAVID: That’s the window where we saw Crutchy

(They are about to move when they see Snyder leading Jack into a carriage.)

LES: It’s Jack!

MUSH: Where they takin’ him Dave?

DAVID: Only one way to find out. I’ll meet you guys at the square. Racetrack, watch him.

(David hides in the back of the carriage, which goes to Pulitzer’s house. Seitz is waiting outside for them.)

SEITZ: Get him inside

(Snyder takes Jack’s arm and leads him in. David pulls out the pin that attaches the horses to the carriage. INSIDE- Seitz leaves Jack in Pulitzer’s study. Pulitzer enters.)

PULITZER: Sit. Know what I was doing at your age, boy? I was in a war. The Civil War.

JACK: Yeah, I heard of it. So, didja win?

PULITZER: People think war is about right or wrong and not power.

JACK: Yeah, I heard of that too. I don’t just sell your papes, Joe. Sometime I read ‘em.

PULITZER: Power of the press is the greatest power of them all. I tell this city how to think. I tell this city how to vote. I shape it’s future.

JACK: Yeah? Well, right now I’m only thinking about one future, and that’s mine.

PULITZER: So am I boy. I have the power to see you stay locked in the Refuge

JACK: And I have the power to break out again.

PULITZER: Or, I can see you released tomorrow, free and clear, with more money in your pockets than you can earn in three lifetimes.

JACK: Are you bribin’ me, Joe?

PULITZER: No

JACK: Well, it’s been real nice chattin’ with ya, Joe. But I got to be goin’ now.

PULITZER: You listen to me, boy. You just shut your mouth and listen to me! You shut up and listen to me for once! No game I’m playing.  You work for me til the strike’s over, and it will end, boy, make no mistake, with or without you. Then you go where ever you want to buy a ticket for. Away from the Refuge, these foul streets. Free. With money to spend and nobody chasing you.

JACK: We must have you scared pretty bad, old man

PULITZER: I offer you freedom and money just to work for me again. To your friends, I won’t be so kind. Now, you’re partner, what’s his name? David. I understand he has a family. What do you think the Refuge will do to him? And it will be you who put him there. And all the others, after all, you’re their leader. Go back to the Refuge tonight, think about it. Give me your answer in the morning.

(Jack leaves. As he is being taken outside, Snyder lets go of him for one second)

DAVID: Jack! Come on! Come on!

(Jack slides down the railing and jumps over it. He and David take off)

SNYDER: After him!

(The driver whips the horses, who take off without the carriage.)

SEITZ: Don’t worry. He’s got no place to go

(David and Jack run into an alley. Jack slows down)

DAVID: Come on! Keep running!

JACK: You shouldn’t have done this, Dave. They could put you in jail

DAVID: I don’t care

JACK: Come here. What about your family? What happened to them if you go in jail. You don’t know nothing about jail. Now, thanks for what you done, but you get out of here

DAVID: I don’t understand

JACK: I don’t understand either, but just get outta here!

DAVID: No!

JACK: Go!

(David turns slowly and walks away. Jack leans against a wall.  Suddenly, he’s leaning against a wall in the Refuge.)

JACK: Santa Fe My old friend I can’t spend my whole life hidin’ You’re the only light that’s guidin’ me today

(Crutchy opens a little slot in the door. He has a potato)

CRUTCHY: Psst! Jack! Look! I snitched it off Snyder’s plate while I was serving him. It’s the biggest one. Oh, Mr. Snyder was eating good tonight. You know the stuff that we don’t ever get? He got potatoes, olives, liver, bacon, sauerkraut. And guess what I done to his sauerkraut, huh?

JACK: So, what’d it get ya?

CRUTCHY: Oh, anudder three months, probably, but you can’t let ‘em get you, right Jack? That’s what you always said...

JACK: We was beat when we was born

(Crutchy frowns and closes the slot)

JACK: Will you keep a candle burnin’ Will you help me find my way? You’re my chance to break free And who knows when my next one will be Santa Fe, Wait for me

(The newsies are picketing outside the World building.)

NEWSIES: Stop the World! No more papes! Stop the World! No more papes! (etc.)

(The police form a barricade. Some of the newsies start to fight amongst themselves.)

DAVID: Race! Help me! I need some help!

RACETRACK: Alright! I ain’t deaf!

SPOT: Hey, hey, hey! Break it up. Hey, Race, come here.

(Weasel leads Jack out. He’s in a new suit)

RACETRACK: What?

SPOT: Just tell me I’m seeing things. Just tell me I’m seeing things.

RACETRACK: No, you ain’t seeing things. That’s Jack. What’s he doing?

SPOT: He’s dressed like a scabber!

MUSH: Jack? Jack, look at me, will ya? Come on, it’s me, Mush. Look at me. What are you doin’, Jack?

KID BLINK: This ain’t happening. This can’t be happening. What are you doin’ Jack? Come on, what are you doin’?

BOOTS: Come on. What is this? Where’d you get them clothes?

WEASEL: Mr. Pulitzer picked them out himself. A special gift to a special new employee.

SPOT: He sold us out!

RACETRACK: I’ll give you a new suit! You bum! I’ll soak ya!

SPOT: Hey, hey, hey! Let me get my hands dirty. Come here you dirty rotten scabber! Traitor!

(Some newsies pull Spot away. David stares at Jack)

WEASEL: Aww. You wanna talk to him? Come on, come on. Sure. Got right ahead.

(David walks up to Jack)

DAVID: So, this is why you didn’t escape last night. You’re a liar! You lied about everything. You lied about your father being out west, ‘cause he’s not out west! You didn’t even tell me your real name!

JACK: So? What you wanna do about it Dave?

DAVID: I don’t understand you.

JACK: Oh, so let me spell it out for ya. You see, I ain’t got nobody tucking me in at night, like you. It’s just me, I gotta look out for myself.

DAVID: You had the newsies..

JACK: Oh, what’d being a newsies ever give me but a dime a day and a few black eyes? You know, I can’t afford to be a kid no more, Dave.  For the first time in my life, I got money in my pockets. Real money. Money, you understand? I got more on the way and as soon as I collect, I’m gone, I’m away. Alright?

DAVID: Well, that’s good. That’s good because we don’t need you! We don’t need you! All those words you said, those were mine.

JACK: Yeah, but you never had the guts to put them across yourself, didja?

DAVID: I do now

(Dave starts to go back to the newsies, then turns to look at Jack again.)

JACK: What’sa matta? Got a problem?

(David rushes towards Jack, but Weasel and a few policemen pull him away.)

WEASEL: Maybe you’d like a new suit of your own, huh?

DAVID: Never! Never!

WEASEL: Get outta here! Get outta here!

DAVID: I’m not like you!

(The cops surround Jack so the newsies can’t get him. The newsies watch him go.)

SPOT: Traitor!

KID BLINK: You make me sick!

BOOTS: I trusted you!

RACETRACK: Seize the day, huh Jack?

LES: He’s foolin’ ‘em, so he can spy on ‘em or something. Yeah, yeah, that’s it. He’s foolin’ ‘em!

RACETRACK: Yeah, he’s spying on then, kid.

(Sarah is going through a pile of lace. She finds Les’s old hot dog)

SARAH: Les. What is this?

LES: Savin’ it

(He takes the hot dog and leaves the article in Sarah’s hands. She looks at it.)

SARAH: David. It’s Denton’s article. ‘The Dark Truth; Why Our City Really Fears The Newsies Strike’ by Bryan Denton. ‘Last night I saw naked force exercised against mere boys, the newsies, who were…’

(David climes out the window, slams it, then storms off the fire escape. THAT NIGHT-Weasel leads Jack to his new bedroom, the basement of the World building.)

WEASEL: One trick, Cowboy, and it’s right back to the Refuge. Please.

(He throws a dust covered sheet to Jack.)

WEASEL: Ah. You gonna be requiring anything this evening?  Huh? No? Aww..tick tick. Well then, I ought to be saying good night.  Remember, on trick and I go straight to Mr. Pulitzer.

(He exits, leaving Jack alone. MORNING- Jack goes to collect his papers. Oscar and Morris come up behind him.)

WEASEL: Sleep well Cowboy?

OSCAR: Come with us Cowboy. We’re gonna go fix you’re pal, Davey. Fix him so he can’t walk.

MORRIS: Shut up

(Jack starts to go after them.)

WEASEL: Ah! Lift one finger and it’s right back to the Refuge. Next!

(Jack picks up his papers and leaves. LATER THAT MORNING- Sarah is walking to work with Les. She has a basket full of lace.)

SARAH: Morning LADY: Good mornin’, dear.

(Oscar ‘bumps’ into her)

OSCAR: ’Cuse me, Sweetface.

(She continues to walk with Oscar behind her. Morris steps out in front of her.)

MORRIS: Where’s your little brother, Tootsie? Where’s little Davey?

(Sarah tries to get by, but the brothers push her around.)

LES: Leave my sister alone!

(He shoves Oscar. Morris holds onto Sarah while Oscar pushed Les into a puddle.)

SARAH: Stop it! Leave him alone!

(Oscar shoves Les into a pile of baskets. Sarah shoves Morris away.)

SARAH: You stupid ape.

(She punches him, but it doesn’t hurt him. She runs into the alley. The brothers catch her. David sees Les and helps him up.)

DAVID: What’s the matter? Are you alright?

LES: I’m alright, I’m alright. Help Sarah!

SARAH: Run Davey!

OSCAR: Yeah, run Davey. We got the best part of your family right here.

(David tackles Oscar.)

SARAH: Let go of me!

(Morris throws her to the ground. Oscar punches David)

SARAH: Stop it! Les! Stop, you’re hurting him! No!

(Morris pulls out a pair of brass knuckles and puts them on.)

SARAH: Leave him alone!

(Oscar continues to punch David. Les runs to Sarah. Jack is walking down the street near the alley.)

SARAH: Stop it! Leave him alone!

(Jack hears her cries and runs, dropping his papers as he goes. Oscar holds David as Morris gets ready to hit him with the knuckles.  Jack comes up behind Morris and punches him. David gives Oscar an elbow in the stomach. Jack throws Morris into a box)

JACK: Get over here.

(Jack grabs Oscar)

JACK: Remember Crutchy?

(Jack head-butts him and he falls near Morris. Jack goes to help Sarah up)

JACK: You alright?

SARAH: Yeah.

(The hug briefly)

SARAH: David!

(Jack goes to David and checks him out before helping him up. Oscar and Morris finally get up.)

MORRIS: You’d better run, Cowboy. We’re gonna tell uncle Weas. You’ll be back in the Refuge before suppertime!

OSCAR: Run, you lousy coward, run!

(Jack starts to go after them, but Sarah stops him. Les runs to the end of the alley.)

LES: Go one! Get outta here! Don’t come back! You hear me?

DAVID: What? You couldn’t stay away?

JACK: Well, I guess I can’t be something I ain’t.

DAVID: A scab?

JACK: No, smart.

(The four of them go to Denton’s apartment. Jack knocks on the door. Denton opens it.)

JACK: Did you mean what you wrote here? ‘Bout all these sweat shop kids listening to me?

DENTON: I don’t write anything I don’t mean. Come on in. I’m just packing a few things.

(They enter. David closes the door.)

DENTON: So, yes, I mean it. The city thrives on child labour. A lot of people make money that way. They’re terrified that the newsies strike will spread.

JACK: Well, there’ really not much chance of that as long as they got the power

DENTON: Sometimes, all it takes is a voice, one voice. Then a thousand. Unless it’s silenced.

JACK: Why can’t we spread the strike? Have another big rally and get the word out to all the sweat shop kids? Why not?

DAVID: What are we going to do? Print an ad in the newspaper?

JACK: No! We’ll do better than that. We’ll make our own paper. We tell ‘em they gotta join us. Isn’t that a good idea?

DAVID: Yeah, it is. But what do we know about printing a newspaper?

JACK: Nothing, but our man Denton…

DAVID: Yeah, but our man Denton has something more important to do. He’s going to be an ace war correspondent, right Denton?

DENTON: Alright. Where do we start?

(They sit at a table)

JACK: Alright, we gotta move fast. Now, we’ll need the newsies to circulate.

DENTON: There’s something else that we need. We need a printing press.

JACK: Just so happens I know a guy with a printing press.

(Jack, Sarah, David and Denton enter the basement of the World building.)

SARAH: You’ve been living here?

JACK: Shh. They’re right above us. Weasel catches us here, we’re all in the slammer.

(Jack uncovers a press)

DENTON: Alright! A Platen press. Looks like old man Pulitzer never threw anything away.

DAVID: Is it going to work?

DENTON: It better. We have a deadline.

(They start printing their papers.)

DENTON: This is the story you wanted to write, well tonight is the night that you can

JACK: Just get this done and by dawn’t early light you can finish the fight you began

DAVID: This time we’re in it to stay

SARAH: Think about seizing the day

JACK: Think of that train as she rolls into old Santa Fe   Tell her I’m on my way

NEWSIES: See old man Pulitzer snug in his bed He don’t care if we’re dead or alive Three satin pillows are under his head While we’re begging for bread to survive Joe, if you’re still counting sheep Wake up and read ‘em and weep You’ve got your thugs With their sticks and their slugs Yeah, but we got a promise to keep Once and for all Something tells me the tide will be turning Once and for all There’s a fire inside me that wont stop burning Now that the choices are clear Now that tomorrow is here Watch how the mighty will fall For once and for all!

(Jack hands bundles of papers to the newsies. Denton and Jack crawl out the window.)

DENTON: It’s awfully nice of Mr. Pulitzer to let us use his press

JACK: Yeah, I just hope I get to thank him for it someday.

(The newsies spread out and hand the papers to various work kids.)

NEWSIES: This is for kids shining shoes on the streets With no shoes on their feet everyday This is for guys sweating blood in the shops While their bosses and cops look away This is to even the score We ain’t just newsies no more This ain’t just kids with some pie in the sky This is do it or die This is war! Once and for all We’ll be there to defend one another Once and for all Every kid is a friend Every friend a brother Five thousand fists in the sky Five thousand reasons to try We’re going over the wall Better to die than to crawl Either we stand or we fall For once Once and for all!

(Denton is with Teddy Roosevelt, who has just read the Newsies Banner)

ROOSEVELT: Disgraceful, Denty. Those poor boys.

DENTON: I thought you’d feel this way, Governor.

ROOSEVELT: And I did nothing, until now

DENTON: Good.

(They shake hands and Roosevelt is handed his hat and walking stick. LATER THAT DAY- The newsies have gathered around the Horace Greeley statue None of the work kids have showed up.)

MUSH: So, when's the others coming, kid?

JACK: They ain’t coming. Ain’t gonna be nobody but us.

SNITCH: Come on, Jack.

SPECS: Have hope, Jack.

(Les walks away from the group.)

LES: When the circulation bell starts ringing, will we hear it?

RACETRACK: Nah. What if the Delancey’s come out swinging, will we hear it?

LES: No!

RACETRACK: That a boy!

WORK KIDS: When you’ve got a million voices singing Who can hear a lousy whistle blow? And the World will know!

(Work kids come in from all directions. The newsies cheer. Spot enters, leading in all of the Brooklyn kids.)

SPOT: Brooklyn!

NEWSIES & WORK KIDS: The World will feel the fire and finally know!

(Everyone cheers. The newsies and Sarah make their way threw the crowd.)

WORK KIDS: Strike! Strike! Strike! (etc.)

(The newsies make their way to the front of the World Building.)

RACETRACK: Dear me. What have we here?

(Seitz and a group of policemen are by the entrance, looking out into the crowd. INSIDE- Pulitzer is at his desk. Seitz brings in Jack and David. Jonathan grabs his arm and whispers.)

JONATHAN: It’s awful. Everyone’s calling. Mr. Hearst, and Mr. Bennett, and the mayor in such awful language. The city’s at a stand still and they all blame the chief. It’s like the end of the World, only I didn’t say that.

(Jack and David go to Pulitzer’s desk, where Jack pulls out a copy of the newspaper.)

JACK: Extry, extry, Joe. Read all about it.

PULITZER: I promised that if you defied me, I’d break you. I’ll keep that promise, boy. Now, I gave you a chance to be free. I don’t understand. Anyone who doesn’t act in their own self interest is a fool.

DAVID: Then what does that make you?

PULITZER: What?

JACK: Oh, this is my pal, Davey. The Walkin’ mouth

DAVID: You talk about self interest, but since the strike, your circulation’s been down 70%. Everyday you’re losing thousands of dollars just to beat us out of one lousy tenth of a cent. Why?

JACK: You see, it ain’t about the money, Dave. It Joe gives in to nobodies like us, it means we got the power. And he can’t do that, no matter what it costs. Am I right, Joe?

PULITZER: I sent for the police. They must be here by now. Send them in, Seitz

JACK: I’m not going back to jail, Joe. Look out here. Right out here is where the power is.

(Jack opens the window. All the kids are still yelling Pulitzer covers his ears)

PULITZER: Close the window! Close the window! Go home! Go home! Go home!

JACK: I can’t hear you , Joe!

PULITZER: Go home! Go home to your mothers and fathers! Go home!

JACK: I don’t hear ya!

PULITZER: Now you listen to me!

JACK: Maybe you should listen!

PULITZER: No, no! You listen to me!

JACK: No! You listen!

PULITZER: Close the window and shut up!

JACK: There’s a lot of people out there and they ain’t just gonna go away. They got voices now and they’re goin’ be listen to. Putting them in jail is not going to stop them! That’s the power of the press, Joe.

(He closes the window. Pulitzer takes his hands away from his ears)

JACK: So thanks for teaching me about it.

SEITZ: Those kids put out a pretty good paper there Chief.

(Pulitzer picks up the paper and reads it.)

PULITZER: I ordered a printing ban on all strike matters. Now, who defied me? Who’s press did you use to print this on? Who’s?

JACK: Well, we only use the best, Joe. So, I just want to say, thanks again.

(Outside, Seitz’s opens the gates. David starts to come out, Jack is behind him.)

SPOT: Hey, fellas, they’re over here!

(The newsies gather around and start asking questions.   Jack bends over and whispers in Les’s ear.)

JACK: The strike’s over. We beat ‘em.

(Jack lifts Les onto his shoulders and look out towards all the children.)

JACK: We beat ‘em!

(The crowd cheers. All the newsies hug and pat each other on the back Weasel, Oscar and Morris put on their hats and leave. A paddy wagon pulls up. Snyder is sitting in the front seat with two cops.)

LES: Jack! Jack, it’s the bulls. It’s the bulls. Let me down!

SWIFTY: Down Jack. Get down!

KID BLINK: Hide Jack

DENTON: Jack, it’s over. No, no. You don’t have to run. Not anymore. Not from the likes of him. Come on, Come on.

(A cop opens the paddy wagon and the kids from the Refuge come out. The last one is Crutchy. A cop leads Snyder into the paddy wagon. Crutchy taps him on the back.)

CRUTCHY: Ah, remember what I told ya, Mr. Snyder. The first thing ya do in jail, make friends with the rats. Share what you got in common.

(Snyder climes in. A police officer is about to close the door.)

CRUTCHY: Officer, may I please?

POLICE OFFICER: Sure kid.

(Crutchy hands his crutch to a kid. He slams the door and locks it. He gets his crutch back and goes over to Jack and the others.)

JACK: Heya Crutchy.

DENTON: You won’t be seeing much of him anymore. Say goodbye Warden.

NEWSIES: Goodbye Warden!

(The paddy wagon pulls away)

CRUTCHY: Oh, Jack, you ought tah seen it! He comes stormin’ into the Refuge waving his walking stick like a sword and he’s leading in this army of lawyers and cops.

JACK: Who comes stormin’ in?

CRUTCHY: You know, your friend. Him! Teddy Roosevelt

(the newsies are amazed)

DENTON: The Governor’s very grateful that you brought this problem to his attention. I said you might need a lift somewhere. He’d be happy to oblige. Anywhere you want. And this time, you ride inside.

JACK: So, can he drop me at the train-yards?

DENTON: Yeah, if that’s what you want.

(They make their way to Roosevelt’s carriage. Jack shakes his hand and climes in. Boots throws Jack a bag. David, Les and Sarah watch sadly. The work kids follow the carriage as it leaves, leaving the newsies alone. The circulation bell begins to ring.)

MUSH: Try Bottle Alley or the harbor

RACETRACK: Try Central Park, it’s guaranteed

CRUTCHY: Try any banker, bum or barber

KID BLINK: They almost all knows how tah read

BOOTS: Summer stinks

SKITTERY: And winter’s waiting

SPECS, BUMLETS & SNIPESHOOTER: Welcome to New York

SNODDY, PIE EATER, SWIFTY, ITEY & JAKE: Boy ain’t nature fascinating

NEWSIES: When youse gotta walk

(The newsies line up for their papers. David is first in line. He slaps down a coin.)

DAVID: Hundred papes.

MUSH: Alright Davey.

(The newsies hear cheers and turn to see the carriage returning. All the work kids are following.)

MUSH: Dave, he’s back!

JACK: Thanks for the advice, Governor. Like you said, I still got things to do. Besides, I got family here.

(He gets out of the carriage and gives Les his cowboy hat. All the newsies yell and talk at the same time.)

JACK: So, how’s the headline today?

DAVID: Headlines don’t sell papes, newsies sell papes.

JACK: Come here, Davey.

(Jack holds out his hand. David spits in his and shakes it. Sarah makes her way through the crowd. Her and Jack kiss. All the newsies cheer and yell. The carriage pulls away, with Roosevelt and Spot in it. Spot tips his hat and waves as he leaves.)

SARAH: Bye Spot!

JACK: Go back to Brooklyn ya hear!

(David, Jack, Sarah, Les and Crutchy follow the carriage. Denton shakes David’s hand, then goes to the side and starts writing. The newsies, with their papers, dance as they leave.)

GROUP 1: It’s a fine life Carryin’ the banner It’s a fine life Carryin’ the banner It’s a fine life Carryin’ the banner It’s a fine life Carryin’the banner

GROUP 2: You got ‘em, Cowboy You showed ‘em how boy! You got ‘em Cowboy You showed ‘em how boy!

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

The Long Walk

(We have a lot to celebrate this month: 30 years from the publication of Good Omens, one year since the series came out. I, myself, have some big milestones: 666 followers, 200k+ on AO3, and 30 fics posted! And I’m about to hit 4,000 Tumblr posts. Naturally, I choose to celebrate with something VERY melancholy

(This fic was inspired by my prompt for @itsthearoway - milestones of Crowley and Aziraphale through history - but was written right after I went into self-isolation. It’s a bit of a reflection on death, life, and hope. I’m not tagging it for death because technically there are no on-screen deaths, but if you are avoiding fic that make you think about mortality DO NOT READ THIS. It’s hopeful, but also very angst.

(Thank you all! I’m working on a longer light-hearted fic about the early days of the arrangement for @itsthearoway that I hope to have the first chapter ready for in a couple of days. Here’s to another 200k!)

--

The Long Walk - A short saga of the world, two observers, and the question: what is it all for? (1697 words)

Also on AO3

The sands stretch away from the Walls of Eden, eternally in either direction. Endless empty wasteland. Unrelenting heat fills the air, beaming down from the sun, up from the dunes. The kind of heat that nothing can live in.

Through the endless empty wasteland walk an angel and a demon, side-by-side.

“Seems an awful waste,” says the demon. “Build a whole world with nothing in it. If the Almighty is so powerful, why not make everywhere like Eden?”

“Eden was special,” says the angel, sadly. He hasn’t been cast out, not in the way the humans and the demon have. But the Garden’s time is over, and he can move on, or fade with it. “Eden was perfect.”

“Yeah, a perfect prison.” The demon rolls his eyes. “Too perfect for the likes of me.”

“No, not perfect like that. Perfectly balanced.” The angel holds out a hand, tipping it side to side. “The weather, the animals, all life, everything hung perfectly from the slightest thread. The was no…no room for deviation, you might say. No room for evil, yes, but also for good. For knowledge. For choice or free will. Once the humans had that, they had to leave. Even if they stayed, it all would have fallen apart.”

The demon considers as they walked. “That’s your ‘ineffable’ explanation?”

A shrug. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Not really.” The demon looks at their surroundings. “And it still seems an awful waste. Sending the humans out here to die.”

“Oh, I don’t think it will come to that. They may yet find something outside the Garden. Look.”

Ahead of them, a shape bursts from the shade of a dune, a small lizard, mottled brown, running for all it's worth to cower in the next shadow. “There’s still life,” says the angel. “Still a chance.”

A thousand years.

Frozen winters.

Drought-filled summers.

A Flood covers the land, and recedes.

Through lands scoured clear of any trace of life walk an angel and a demon, side-by-side.

“Not much of a chance, if our sides keep interfering,” the demon says, watching the brown river rush past between barren banks.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” the angel chides.

A snort. “You’d say the same if it were my side that did this.” Silence, apart from footfalls in the mud. “Well, go on. Tell me it’s all part of the Plan. I can practically hear you thinking it.”

“Well it is. I might not understand it, but it must be.”

“Some Plan. A thousand years of struggle and toil, for what? Just to be destroyed like that.”

“Nonsense.” The angel points overhead at a flitting dove. The first bird either of them has seen since the rains began. “It isn’t over yet. And we can’t know until it’s over.”

Two thousand more years.

Cities rise.

Cities fall.

Sodom.

Thera.

Troy.

They walk together through the empty streets of what had once been the world’s greatest city, past shattered walls and burned out homes and the remains of a wooden horse.

“They’ve learned from you,” the angel says, an edge of bitterness.

“They’ve learned from us,” the demon corrects, but without rancor.

The angel pauses to study the remains of a temple, altar within shattered, blood spattered across the floor from more than sacrificial animals. “Either way, they surpassed their teachers.”

“They did.” In the distance, past once-impregnable gates that will never close again, high-masted ships depart. Not the attackers, returning victorious to kingdoms that have been destroyed in other ways; these are the survivors, in search of a new home. “Do you suppose they’ll do any better the next time?”

“We must hope,” said the angel, looking where white flowers grow through the cracks in the path. “We must always hope.”

Phoenicia.

Persia.

Carthage.

Rome.

Empires grow.

Empires topple.

They walk, tracing the path of an aqueduct, still valiantly carrying water to an empty city, miles away.

“You know, I really thought they had something this time,” sighs the angel, watching the rodents burrow beneath the monumental stones.

The demon tosses his head, looking at the endless span of arch on arch, crossing a continent. “They did.”

“Next time,” the angel says, with confidence he doesn’t feel. “Next time they’ll get it right.”

“They will. For a time.”

“Oh, there is no need for you to be…pessimistic,” the angel snaps.

“It’s not pessimism, it’s – oh, never mind.” The demon saunters a little faster. “I think I see a village up ahead. Probably have something to drink there.”

Wars rage, brought by raiders or kings or desperate humans.

Famine crawls from town to town, spurred on by locusts, by ice storms, by greed.

Pestilence crosses the world again and again.

Death. Death. Death.

An angel kneels in the street, holding a human’s hand. The human isn’t moving.

A demon materializes from the shadows behind him. “Give it a rest. You can’t do anything for him now.”

“I know.” He stands up. “But I had to try.”

All around them, the city stands silent. Not empty. Humans locked in their homes, afraid to go out, afraid to be too close, afraid the plague may catch them, too.

“He should have fled,” the angel says sadly. “Left the city while he still had a chance.”

“Not everyone can run,” the demon points out.

“I know.” After a time, he walks again, the demon beside him. Past empty fountains, abandoned marketplaces, homes boarded shut. “The city has changed so much. Do you remember that lovely restaurant we used to visit?”

“Burned down. Almost a thousand years ago.” The demon shrugs. “Vandals. Or Goths, maybe.”

“Ah. Pity.”

From a nearby alley, the stench of death. The demon tries to look away, only to find himself meeting the angel’s eyes.

“You won’t find anyone in there.”

“I know. But I have to try.”

The demon sighs, but follows him in. “I hate this century.”

“You always say that, dear.”

New continents.

New art styles.

New wars.

New technologies.

Until one afternoon the world ends – and is made anew.

And only one small group of humans will ever know – and an angel and a demon, stepping off a bus together at three in the morning. The city isn’t empty, merely asleep.

Not ready to go inside just yet, they walk around the block, listening to foxes rummage through rubbish bins, watching lights flick on, here and there, where another insomniac has risen from bed.

“What do you suppose comes next?” the angel wonders, when the silence becomes too much. “For the humans.”

“Dunno.” The demon tosses his head, hands stuck in his pockets. “More of the same, I would guess. Life, death, love, hate, good, bad. Human stuff.”

“But something has to change,” the angel insists. “The world nearly ended for…for Heaven’s sake,” he finishes, voice full of irony. “But if it was the Plan, it must mean something. What’s it all leading to?”

“We might find out. Depends what comes next. For us.”

“Ah.” The angel slows. Stops. “Do you…do you suppose they’re very angry?”

The demon turns to face him with a snort. “What do you think?”

“I think…I think…” His hands straighten his waistcoat, smooth his tie. “I think that whatever comes next, however much time we have…I should like to carry on as we always have.” His tone is light, his eyes searching.

A slow nod. “Yeah.” The demon reaches out, gently squeezes the angel’s shoulder. “Yeah. Me too.”

When they start walking again it is, as always, side-by-side.

“And, you know, I would like to see how it all turns out.”

“You and me both, Angel.”

More time passes.

The world grows old. Ancient.

Another war. The Really Big One. Bigger than any seen on Earth or in Heaven.

Everybody fights.

Everybody loses.

When it is over – when all things are over – there is nothing left.

No world, no Paradise, no eternal torment. No Hosts of Heaven, no Legions of Hell.

No humans, no Satan, no God.

Just an endless, eternal expanse of nothing and, somewhere in the featureless plane, an angel in white, kneeling, alone.

Slowly, the darkness around him resolves into another shape. The demon steps forward, fighting back a smile. “There you are. You survived.” As if he hasn’t been frantically searching. “Thought as much. You’re very hard to kill.”

The angel doesn’t respond.

“It sure was a mess, though, wasn’t it?” The demon shakes his head ruefully. “Should have expected it, really, but right at the end when –”

“I was wrong.” The angel hasn’t moved, eyes still locked on the endless Nothing. “Thousands of years, millions of sunrises, and for what? There was never any point.”

“No, Angel.” The demon kneels beside him, rests a hand on his shoulder. “I mean, yeah, you were wrong. Because the ending was never the point. It was the journey – all those millions of days, filled with love and hate and smiling children and fighting with friends and favorite foods and annoying songs and struggles and choices and…and life. Everything they never would have had if they’d stayed in the Garden. That was the point. That was always the point.”

“Perhaps,” the angel tries to smile. “It was lovely, wasn’t it? While it lasted?”

“Yeah. It really was.” The demon helps him to his feet. “And, you know, it’s not completely gone.”

He waves a hand, long fingers trailing through the void as they had at the beginning of time, helping to shape the stars. He gathers together every atom, every wisp of matter, closer, closer, into a ball. The angel presses his hands into it, and together they compress it, tighter, denser, until –

A spark. From neither. From both.

BANG.

The void fills once more.

With chaos.

With potential.

With light.

The demon looks around, nodding with approval. “What do you think, Angel? Time for another walk?”

He gazes out at the disks of galaxies forming in the expanding cloud of debris. “Do you…do you think things will be different this time?”

A shrug. “Only one way to find out.”

Through the glowing crucible of a newborn universe walk an angel and a demon, side-by-side.

[thestarkerisobvious]

A Better Ghost Story

amazing art work by @starker-sorbet​        

A snugglefic for @mrstarksbabyy​

With great thanks for the betaread by @mrstarksbaby​

You know who you are.

Sixteen:    The DeSlaughter House

4    A Better Ghost Story

Like Peter’s house, the DeSlaughter house had a front door that was never used.  The two boys sat on the little front cement front porch that Mke’s dad had made.  They sat awkwardly for a long time before Mike spoke.

“Look, I’m sorry I said… I don’t know if you heard or not, but I told the guys sometimes there were strange lights over your house.  Or whatever.  I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Peter opened his mouth, but nothing came out.  For a moment he looked around the DeSlaughter yard, as if he were thinking.  The yard looked so different from his own, a large patch of grass scattered with multiple bikes and toys and sports equipment and fishing gear leaning against the wall.  It told a story of a life so much different than Peter’s, a life of siblings and parents who took their kids camping and boating and fishing.  Peter had always lived a solitary life, even in New York City.  The life of an only child whose guardians were elderly on the day he met them.

Finally he realized Mike was waiting for him to speak. 

He shrugged.  “I wasn’t mad mad, I was just like, confused.  I’ve lived in that house for three years now, and I’ve never seen strange lights there.”

“It’s just that my parents said that.  They said they had seen that before I was born.”

“Well that was before I was born too, so why should I give a care?  Look, I know the guys talk about me when I’m not there…”

“They talk about you a lot when you’re not there,” Mike admitted, looking at his bare feet.

“Well, that’s their problem, isn’t it?” Peter snapped, repeating Aunt May’s favorite saying without thinking.

“Hey don’t get mad at me.  Look, the weird-light thing is the only thing I’ve said about your house, and I could have said a lot of things, Peter,” Mike said, his voice raising suddenly, then just as suddenly he closed his mouth hard.

“Okay, okay, no problem,” Peter said carelessly, looking away again.  Normally when voices were raised, especially when it was a boy his age, Peter walked away.  He could certainly do that today (Mrs. DeSlaughter was inside making his pancakes now) but quite suddenly he decided on a different tactic.

“You know, whatever.  I just don’t know I couldn’t care less about boys who brag about how many F’s they got in science…” he casually, making Mike grin with the inside joke.  “Look, I’ll make you a deal, I’ll forget the whole thing.  If you tell me every strange story you know about my house.”

“Oh there are tons…” Mike said, hopping up from the step, no longer looking embarrassed.  Peter relaxed.  Mike had taken the deal.  It wasn’t a deal that made a lot of sense, but it was a deal, and Mike had taken it.

“Ok, so like the first Post lady was a witch who was running away from the Spanish Inquisition.  Like her whole family was.  And how the girls all had to learn Portuguese so they could read all her witch’s spellbooks.  And how right before the Civil War the whole family made a deal with the devil and they could fly, and swing from tree to tree like Tarzan and outrun cars like the Six Million Dollar Man…”

“It sounds like you’re describing my favorite comic books,” Peter said, laughing.

“Yeah, it’s really weird.  And there was this one Post son whose skin could stop bullets, only he died in the Civil War because he thought he could stop cannon balls.  And right before the Civil War?  Tom Dylan Post chopped up that girl who wouldn’t marry him, because she didn’t want to marry into that crazy-witch-devil family?  And he disappeared like that,” Mike snapped his fingers.  “And the whole town went to the Post Homestead to search for him, like the sheriff and the girl’s family and everybody, and the family said he had left for Tennessee but no one had seen him go, like on the only road out of town or something, and they never found him.  Because he was hiding in an underground house that his family had dug for him, and he had to live there for the rest of his whole life.  And he died down there and they couldn’t bury him onaccounta’ they couldn’t let on that they had been hiding him, so his body is down there to this very day…”

“Wait… wait!” Peter said laughing.  “Now this sounds like a Tale from the Crypt comic book, and I never waste my money on those!  Wait, this is a cool story, why isn’t this story of my haunted house??  Dying in an underground house you had to live your whole life in is a much better story than Evan Post’s pigs didn’t die in the Great Pig Die-off of 1935…”

They laughed for a while, and for a few minutes they compared Tales from the Crypt plots, debating which ones would fit in well with Peter’s haunted house.  

Then Peter remembered why he had run all the way there in the first place.

“So… why are you… why are we talking about this anyway?  I never told anyone I was mad about the lights thing.  I mean it was annoying, but I didn’t tell anybody about it.”

Mike’s face clouded and he looked away.  And his answer didn’t surprise Peter at all.

“I dunno,” he shrugged.  “I think I dreamed about it last night, or something.  And then I woke up this morning and my mom was all like ‘Why is everyone so mean to that sweet Peter?’”  Peter laughed at his high falsetto tone.  “He’s so sweet and so smart and polite and nice all the time and he’s an orphan!’  And I’m like ‘He’s not exactly Little Orphan Annie, mom.’”  

“No, not exactly,” Peter said, laughing at the picture.

“Hey man, I always stand up for you when the boys start to talk.  I told them Missy really is your girlfriend, and you’ve probably gotten to second base…”

“Oh crap no!”  Peter said suddenly, his eyes going wide.  “No, Mike, for serious.  Please don’t tell anybody that.  Missy is terrified of her father, I mean seriously she talks about him all the time.  She says he’ll kill her and me both if he ever sees us holding hands together…”

“Then why does she hold your hand?” Mike objected.

“That’s what I said!!  I mean when we’re walking home from school if she hears a car coming she’ll jump over to the other side of the street so it doesn’t look like we’re walking together and I’m like ‘Well maybe you should just stop holding my hand please?!  And she tells me this weird story about how some girl that used to live on her land wanted to marry some boy that lived on my land, and how the girl’s father didn’t want them to…”

“Yeah, that’s Laura Foster.  That’s the girl Tom Dylan Post cut up with his big bowie knife.”

“Okay that just makes it weirder, Mike.”

“Peter?  Seriously?  Shut up.  I mean it man, you have got to stop complaining about girls wanting to hold your hand.  That’s why they talk about you at school.  No matter how crazy she is you can’t complain that you’ve already gotten to first base with her,” Mike explained, shaking his head solemnly.  It irritated Peter, watching Mike trying to sound like a wise old man, dispensing his wisdom.  Mike was two months younger than he was.

“It’s not all the books you read, or how you seem to know more than the science teachers do, or how you’ve never fired a gun,” Mike was continuing.  “And it’s not really the Post-Ghost.  It’s because you’re from New York City and you think it’s normal that fairies and queers just walk around like it’s nothin’.  It’s because you’re from New York City and you don’t even own a single Playboy or anything.

“Is that what the magazine I was supposed to find in the shed?  The one I didn’t see because I thought the prank was about the dead squirrel on the floor?  And that was supposed to be gross or something, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to be a veterinarian or an exterminator if I get grossed out by a dead squirrel….”

“I don’t know anything about the squirrel.  Yeah, there was a magazine in there you were supposed to find.”  

“What was it?  A Playboy?” Peter asked, hoping he sounded casual.  Hoping Mike couldn’t tell how hard it was to act casual right now.

“Or something else?  Like a Playgirl?”

Mike shrugged and looked at his feet.  “I don’t know if it was a Playgirl or what, I mean it didn’t have a cover.  Cole found it in this box of old books, at his uncle’s house, he said.  It was all these men with big mustaches doing nasty stuff.  It was so gross.  It was Buster that put in the shed and said we should prank you with it.  I told them you saw that sort of thing in New York City all the time but Buddy said it would be funny.”

“Weird.  Cole’s uncle is weird.”

“I’ll say.  You know what I heard?”  But then Mike’s dad was calling them from inside.  

Knowing how many members of the household had dreamed about him, it didn’t really surprise Peter that Mr. DeSlaughter was now shaking his hand, asking him how he was and generally acting like they had been best friends who had been separated for years.

“Sorry to hear about your dog.  I used to bury all my pets out in a cemetery my brothers and I had made in the yard behind our house.  Call your uncle and tell him I’ll come over.  If you’ve got snakes I’ll be able to tell…” and then continued to discuss snake bite symptoms for the rest of breakfast.  Peter listened attentively.  Mike’s dad was as good as any science teacher.

After Peter had finished off his pancakes (and assured Mike’s mother that he didn’t want anything else to eat, he had to assure her many times) he was pointed to the kitchen phone to call home.

Walking toward the phone, Peter was struck, for a moment, at the irony.  (Not irony, his English teacher would tell him.  This was not irony.  This was coincidence.)  

There was a time when Peter had a great fear of phones.  Just the idea of dialing a number himself made his stomach hurt and his palms sweat.  He had nightmares, as a child, of the clear plastic rotary dial spinning around endlessly, knowing he couldn’t have possibly dialed the right number.  May always dialed the phone when he wanted to talk to his friends, but when he turned 12 Ben said he was too old for that and made her stop.  As an experiment, he fed that fear to Tony, but only after carefully writing out the instructions in one of his notebooks, titled “How To Use A Rotary Phone.”

And he needed them.  Two days ago he found the instructions by accident and read them with fascination.  He spent the whole morning practicing calling numbers, time, the weather, the radio station to make a request.  He practiced dialing his home number and listened to the busy signal over and over again.  That-Peter found the whole procedure delightful.  That-Peter couldn’t imagine the boy who had been afraid of it.

This-Peter realized that the entire DeSlaughter family was watching him now.  He turned around and smiled at them.

“You have a touch-tone phone.  I’ve always wanted one.  Those are cool.”

“I can play Mary-Had-A-Little-Lamb on it!” Monica trumpeted as Peter dialed home.

* * * * *

Peter’s friends’ parents had taken them to quite a few outdoor plays in the city.  Peter felt like he was in a play now.  He hoped he was remembering all his lines.

Sitting in the cab of the pickup truck with Mike’s dad while the two boys rode in the back (riding in the back of a truck never looked safe to Peter) he made polite noises while Mr. DeSlaughter tried to talk him into going on hunting trips with them in the summer, or working for him after school was over.  At the house he dutifully took them on “the tour” because Aunt May had declared him the expert.  At the table he kept up his side in an argument about which was better, Super Friends or the Super Powers Team and why Apache Chief was a terrible superhero.  

It wasn’t all bad.  Mr. DeSlaughter and Uncle Ben stood outside and talked for ages, and Aunt May fussed over lunch for the three boys as if she had been doing it her whole life.  Still, Peter couldn’t help watch the clock.  Counting the hours.  Calculating how long he had to wait until he could talk to Tony.

After lunch he took Matthew and Mike to climb his favorite trees, and to see the owls’ nest in the barn.  He even took them to the lake where he pointed out the dead oak that pointed the way back to the chimney and the shed.

“They said Tom Dylan cut up his girlfriend because she really wanted to marry his brother,” Matthew was lecturing as Mike and Peter tossed rocks into the water.  “But Laura Foster didn’t want to marry him at all.  Like she was best friends with his sisters, so she was always at his house, at your house, all the time.  Because that’s where her best friends lived.  Only he didn’t know that, and thought she was there to see him.

“Why would she be best friends with his sisters if she didn’t like his witch-devil-running-from-the-inquisition family?”  

“She didn’t mind being their friends, but she didn’t want to marry into the family.  Once you marry “into a family” it’s different.  Now you’re a part of them.”

“How do you even know all this anyway, smartypants,” Peter needled.  He actually liked Matthew, just like he liked Monica, but felt obliged to talk down to them out of loyalty to Mike.

“Our Mee-ma grew up here, our Mom’s grandma.  Her whole family is from here.  She can tell you anything.  She’s full of old stories, and Matthew is her favorite.”

Peter thought about that for a moment, looking up at the ridge.  Beyond that was the shed, which he’d be happy to burn to the ground right now.  But there was also the lone chimney and foundation to a small house that stood there too, another Post house where some Post family member had lived.  It piqued his interest, now.   

“I should talk to your Mee-ma.  I can interview her for that Social Studies project we’re supposed to do.  That’s probably a good idea.”

“Why do you want to do that?” Mike said with an eyeroll.

Peter smiled.  For a very brief moment, he suddenly didn’t feel like he was acting at all.

“Because all your looser-ghost stories about my house are all boring.   I think it’s time to write up a better one.”

---------------------------------------

The next chapter of SIXTEEN will be posted on Monday.

Master (Post)

---------------------------------------

[opalai-pixel-witch]

“Thank you!! I’m happy to hear you liked that one ^__^ Kittens seem to make everything cuter…even if I’m not so good at drawing them ;;=o=;;”

–The kittens you drew are cute :3

“Yeah, I remember the first time I finished the main story and I was super excited to see that there was more I could do after the credits! I was surprised to see Death in Bjørn’s house and watching him and Pesto interact was a lot of fun ^o^ PP’s games are full of surprises it would seem, you have no idea how excited I got when I heard my son’s singing voice ;u;”

–You mean the scene where he sings to a scared viking friend?

I like that scena too, I even started to sing cuz I alredy knew the lyrics ;) I like see Pesto play the bass :D

“Oooh, do you think that Red-Eye is one of those two dead guys in the background of War’s introduction? :o Makes me wonder just how far back the creators have been planning…and that’s a really interesting take on what they could be doing! When I think about Milky and his team I think about the show Truth Seekers—I dunno if you’ve seen or heard of that, but basically there’s a guy who investigates the paranormal in his spare time and he’s somehow recruited a few people into his investigations, and eventually they uncover a cult putting some shady nanotech in peoples’ brains. It’s really good in my opinion, but anyhow I like looking at that kind of thing and Milky makes me think of that o.o”

–“Truth Seekers”, it´s the first time I… read(? XD )that name ^^;

Red eye thing in the background was said by one of the developers, search “Manual Samuel week” on Youtube and you will find Ozan’s videos, he talks a bit about how MS and HH are connected ;) 👍

“Well in that case, I’m glad that I could pique your interest! >u> I admittedly have trouble with feeling like I “belawng” anywhere and keep getting paranoid that I’m just intruding in whatever fandom I join, which makes my hesitation towards making new stuff and trying new things even more of a pain =A=”

–Feel I’m just intruding in whatever fandom I join also happens to me :,v

There is a web serie called “Tres Acordes” and I liked it a lots; one week and I started to draw it and I feel bad because didn´t one month from I started to see the serie, I fel I musted wait more, but I didn´t share them cuz ; when one month and the serie liked, I that feeling and started to post my drawings

Currently I follow the serie, I don´t know if the fans or the creator like my drawings, but I have fun, at least I know I don´t uncomfortable them, I draw the characters representing some episode or some trait of their personality ^^

“Honestly I tend to have more fun participating in smaller fandoms because it feels like…there’s more heart put into them, if that makes any sense??? I’m not entirely sure how to word it :P I have yet to run into any crazy fandom discourse so far (knock on wood), but I understand that that’s also a danger when it comes to bigger fandoms ;;o_o;; Regardless, however, I love the PP fandom and I’m really happy to have found a friend to talk to about it!!”

–Yes, that´s true, in small fandoms there´s more heart, cuz it´s about supporting the original work and its creators, I also prefer small fandoms, in the Tres Acordes there are few that are dedicated to create something for the serie, that´s great, I feel more free to create and it hasn´t become toxic; there is a small fandom that I like to create content for, but there´s a group of fugoshis who make it toxic, they only post NSFW work and only support that content, which makes you don´t want to be in the fandom (I left it for a while thanks to they), in my case, I try to support all decent works to motivate people, and thanks to that I met a group of people who have healthy fun in that little fandom and we support each other ^^

…

(New drawings) ;v  : 

https://sta.sh/22aj2xyaqwj3?edit=1

…

“I watched a review of Helheim Hassle in which some guy was calling Bjørn a complete loser and now I am enraged”

–That´s it! I´m killing this guy! I don´t care if it´s written or not! Throw me in Human Jail! I don´t CARE! >:v

--------

Aw thanks!! I’m glad you think so ;u;

Yeah, when I got to that scene and Pesto said “you start singing, Bjoharn” I paused the game and freaked out for a moment, all “AGDHFMXKDISKSB I GET TO HEAR MY SON SING?????” I love that scene sooooo much ;;o;;

ALSO Pesto just has the most amazing bass skills...like she learns everything by ear and has a great memory for how it goes and seems to know exactly where to put her fingers, and all she needs to be able to do that is to listen to the actual song once and then just a brief recap of it??? Pesto’s bass-playing just kicks a whole lot of ass >o>

It’s a great show in my opinion, it’s very interesting! I think it’s by the same people behind the Cornetto trilogy, if you’ve heard of that :o I’d recommend it to anyone who’s interested in that sorta premise ^_^ (...unless they happen to be sensitive to the “eye scream” trope)

I watched that entire series before writing this reply, it was a lot of fun to watch! I think I missed any mention he might’ve made about Red Eye, but it’s pretty cool to know that those three guys in the background are creator cameos o:

Fandoms are a tricky thing indeed...it feels like NSFW artwork is kinda unavoidable no matter what fandom you’re in, and while I don’t make NSFW stuff myself I know that people are gonna draw what they’re gonna draw, and as long as it isn’t hurting anybody or portraying anything unethical it’s not really my business to call them out on it. However if people are gonna post stuff like that, they should be very responsible about making sure the wrong demographic doesn’t see it, giving plenty of warnings and tagging stuff appropriately, all that stuff. I don’t know what protocol there usually is for that sorta thing, but everyone should make sure that nobody gets scarred for life by anything and that everybody gets along and doesn’t make anybody else feel unsafe!

You shouldn’t have to feel like you’re intruding in fandoms! If your contributions to the PP community are any indication, you probably bring a lot of cool stuff to any fandom you join! Personally I look forward to you submitting things here and I always love seeing your new drawings ^__^ It’s always fun to be able to talk to you about what we both love in the PP verse and swap headcannons and stuff!

Your new drawings are, as always, absolutely brilliant!! I love the reverse AU one (Skeleton Bjørn = very yes) and also the one with you (if that person is you?) hugging Death |D His expression is great, all “yep, this is my life now”

...I see you brought Pesto with you...might I join you on your quest? I must avenge my viking son >_>

[organized-decay]

The Road Goat

Title: The Road Goat

Edited, originally posted as a twitter thread: link

Read on ao3

"I dunno," X mumbles, the uncertainty in her voice as obvious as a grasshopper you see on your brightly lit screen at 3am on a humid August night. "I'm always scared when in driver's seat. I mean, what if we get hit?"

We stand in front of my grandfather’s car, a vehicle that remembered the times of old Eastern Bloc and that seems to have been born already old without ever experiencing the joys of childhood, which is the very basis of the relationship between the two of us. It has a bumper sticker on the back window with a cartoon infant smiling at anyone who looked at it. In red letters a menacing print announces to the world that “there’s babies on the deck”.

I look at X in all of her 5 feet tall glory (nearly 3 inches of which were thanks to her wild curls, which I always decided safest not to point out), who looks like an exceptionally bored elementary-schooler. I think “babies indeed”.

I nod sagely, because my blown up Capricorn ego won't allow me for a regular nod. "It's ok, I can sit there instead," I say, with some level of condescending, though not enough to alarm the other speaker, something I’ve mastered through past 20 years of being a Capricorn.

X looks at me weird. "But you can't drive?"

"It's okay," I repeat. "We will be fine, I tried for a bike license once.”

I don’t mention that I didn’t pass but it’s a minor detail anyway.

We enter the car - an old, red fiat 180p, passed through two generations of Nowak’s between various uncles and cousins in what is probably the saddest game of inter-family hot potato known in so far recorded history.

I go to the driver's seat, X seats in the back. There's wires tied to the wheel which she holds in her hands clad in hot pink fingerless gloves. There's a third wire tied to the gear stick and connected with her leg. The pedals are my one and only domain and there's a letter written on the gum of my shoes with glittery blue and red gel pens so I know which one to press at any given moment. It took us all of ten minutes to construct this weird mechanical puppet and we test it for all of 30 seconds before we get bored, deem it good enough and decide to go.

I start the car. It takes me three tries but the rumble of the engine once I manage to turn it on is more gratifying than eating a whole sub sandwich without spilling the excess lettuce on the floor. Internally, I triumph. My hands rest lightly on the steering wheel to avoid suspicion, but it's X that leads us out of the driveway and onto the road.

The first half an hour goes without a hitch. I honk at a truck while waiting for the green light on the crossing to the beat of Everybody backstreet's back, but the light changes to green just as the driver leaves his vehicle with clear intentions to beat me up. Or congratulate me on my sense of rhythm. With his fists.

As we leave the crossing I cheer at my luck, though there is some disappointment mixed into it. The prospect of a fistfight on a busy street was something that appealed to me and filled me with childlike excitement ever since I watched that one Dexter episode with Action Hank where Dexter grew a beard. Alas, me and X continue our journey fistfight-less.

We leave the town with little issues, as per X’s request I don’t honk at truck drivers or any other drivers for that matter anymore. In addition, nobody so far seems to realize that my hands are merely a prop for our intricate man-steered wire system, that X is the true puppeteer of our little car-shaped circus du soleil, or that I don't even have a bicycle card. We look just like every other pair of young adults if one of them looked more like a preschooler than someone over 20 and if anyone in these parts owned a red fiat 180p. Nobody did.

Elated by the success of our little charade, I think, wow, we are incredibly lucky.

And this, well. This is the very moment our luck runs out.

As the saying goes, don't praise the day before the sunset.

There's a goat on the road. And as I always say, where's a goat on the road, there's trouble.

Now, one may ask: how do you know that?

Well, I’ve already mentioned before that I'm a Capricorn. While to the uneducated it probably means nothing, to the one well-versed in the ways of the stars will recognize that as a Capricorn, aside from being insufferably pretentious and emotionally unavailable, I know goats. And I know that goats bring trouble.

My hands twitch on the steering wheel and sweat starts dropping down my neck and forehead in thick beads. I look at the goat. The goat looks back, its intense, green eyes seemingly looking straight into my very soul.

It stands far ahead of us at where the road drops down and hides behind the horizon. It's backlit in golds and pinks from the late, afternoon sun, seemingly glowing and ethereal, like a four-hooved god of doom. Like Bacchus on wine withdrawal about to start a party except the main course wasn’t Dom Perignon year 1932 and a roast but you.

"Dodge," I say, a sort of primal fear making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"From what," asks X, who relaxed during our ride and now looks very much at home holding the wires in her hands, like an 18th century charioteer from London if they dressed in yellow t-shirts and pink corduroy overall dresses back in the day.

"There's a goat on the road," I say, hurriedly though to a regular listener not well-versed in the way of Capricorns it may sound bored and nasal. "We need to dodge."

X sways to the side to see the front window. I can see her brows furrow from the front mirror. "I don't see any goat," she says as we near said goat at the speed of 40 miles per hour.

"Please," I say, just about begging, "just swerve to the right. There's no one else on the road, indulge me.

She does, though not without throwing me a Look that highly suggests that I am at best an idiot and at worst an utter buffoon. She’s mastered the expression over the course of our nearly ten years long friendship nearly to perfection, though deep down I know this is nowhere near the limit of her abilities.

We swerve to the right, a surprisingly swift motion for a car that can be both destroyed and fixed with one kick, and I never stray my eyes from the goat, not even for a second. And yet.

And yet, I fight the urge to cry as I realize that somehow the goat transported to the other lane, seamlessly, as if it’s always been there.

I convince X to swerve once more, saying that I want to test her driving skills. She takes up the challenge with a smile and I welcome the shaking of our car with the closes thing to relief one can feel when trapped in a Fiat 180p with X as a driver.

We do it a couple of times until X gets fed up and tells me to put on some music if I'm so bored. Miraculously, our car stays intact and I send a small prayer to whoever is watching us over int he clouds before with trembling hand I turn on the radio.

"A rich man's war in poor man's blood, silent their cries..." plays Killing Joke, the harsh sound of electric guitars abusing my ears with the rage of thirty to fifty wild boars chasing children in someone’s backyard. "...follow behind the Judas goat."

I change the station.

The goat is still in front of us but the distance doesn't change. We pass through another town, listen through Goat by the Shudder To Think, to Goat 2.0 by Eric Bellinger, Goat Annie by Carole King and several others as I keep hopping through the stations in a wild fury worthy of a middle aged man sat in front of his TV trying to find something that isn’t Mango or morning weather forecast at five am on a Sunday. The goat remains ever present and I slowly assign what portion of my sanity be assignable.

"What are the five apex predators of the jungle," asks X out of nowhere as we listen to Evil Little Goat by Pearl Jam, about an hour after I spotted The Four Hooves of Doom.

"Goats," I say, because I'm at the point in my life where I acknowledge that goats run the world and I don't question it.

"No," X says, because she knows nothing. I indulge her anyway.

"What's the answer then," I ask.

"Three lions and two tigers," she says like it’s the most hilarious joke she’s ever heard. I stare at the goat at the end of the road and she looks back with eyes that know what hides at the bottom of the ocean.

"Okay," I agree with barely concealed pity, for X doesn't know yet.

My staring contest with the goat lasts through next string of goat related songs which keep pouring through the tinny radio speakers no matter how often I change the station. At some point I stop focusing on them and drift away, my eyes stuck in the horizontal irises of the god. Goat.

I fall into a kind of trans where I both seat and don’t seat in the car, my consciousness drifts far beyond the old, leather seat of the Fiat 180, beyond my body, beyond where human consciousness should drift, allowing me to see a trillion years into the past and into the future as I transform from a human into a bug into water into mist into a celestial body only for the black hole to swallow me like a child would corn candy on a Halloween night - with tearful, lip-trembling disappointment and an aching tooth.

When I wake up from the vision, I feel both like a newborn and a being too old to describe with words, my bones singing to the eons past and my blood reaching to the eons that are still yet to come.

I am bathed in the golden pink light of the late afternoon sun. There is a black, gravel road stretching behind me and before me, seemingly endless though I know it stops abruptly three meters into an overgrown cornfield at the end of the universe somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Minnesota. A small, red car is speeding straight at me but I am secure in the knowledge that it won't ever be able to hit me. I remain fixed in place, unbothered and inevitable

I stare into the car, past the plastic glass and dangling, yellow car freshener at myself, sitting in the front seat, pretending to drive with X sitting behind me and holding the wires. I am dressed in an old Batman t-shirt and torn jeans and look immensely bored though I’m paralyzed with fear.

My body stares back at me, eyes droopy and tired though irises thin with panic, and at that moment I finally understand.

I was the goat the entire time.

[yoshimickster]

RETURN OF THE RWBY MICKSTERECAPS-(Rwby Volume 6x01 “Argus Limited” spoilers)

HEY EVERYBLOODY-sorry I’m a day late, went to a punk show and got home around 2 AM-EITHER WEITHER-let’s get to the show!

WE START OUT WITH-

A niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice and snowy landscape, *SIGH* so peaceful-BUT SUDDENLY-

0:28 First rule of Rwby, any scene that starts with a train is gon’ have SHIT GOIN’ DOWN YO!

0:32 See that? Giant fluffy Manticore Grimm-BUT THAT FUCKER GETS SLASHED-

0:38 I love the smell of Grimm dust *SNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFF* smells like victory-BUT THEN-

0:45 A WILD WEISS APPEARS-all smilin’ and KICKIN’ ASS!

0:57 AND FINALLY-

BUMBLEBEE-fighting together with absolutely no awkward tension between the two of them at a-PFFT-HAHAHAHAHA-oh I couldn’t say that with a straight face, but seriously they’re in a better place than last season. ALSO-

1:05  TEAM JNR-fashionably late as always, the sassy bitches.

Nora: WHY IS IT ALWAYS SOMETHING?!

Jaune: BECAUSE WE TRAVEL WITH MILO MURPHY’S ALCOHOLIC COUSIN!

And everybody just starst BLASTING THE SHIT OUT OF GRIMM-Ren sniping with knife guns, Jaune blocking with his shield, and Nora just doing her thing-ALSO-

1:17 FIRST RENORA MOMENT OF THE SEASON-at least ONE section of the shippers will be sated...although I DO find it weird how the two haven’t kissed on screen  yet, I mean like why not? They are UNDOUBTEDLY a couple now, what they tryna hide? Its kinda like how in a lot of Shonen manga when NO official couple kisses on screen, just odd to me.

Everything’s going fine...well fine for battle standards-UNTIL-

1:24 Jaune: TUNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL!

Damn Miles has some pipes.

Everybah starts RUNNIN’ to the tunnel-BUT-

1:29

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWeiss gets suckerblasted by one of the manticore Grimm-IS THIS HER END?! 

NOPE-almost girlfriend to the rescue! AND THEN-

1:33 WHITEROSE COMBO MOVE-awesome.

WOO-that was one god damn minute and a half, like seriously! After that triumphant scene I’m sure we won’t transition to something absolutely horrifyi-

2:23 Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesus Adam, you do NOT take getting dumped lightly do you? Ah well, at least he has that expensive chai-

2:32 *SLASH*

DAMMIT ADAM-what’d that chair ever do to you? Could’ve at least sold it at a Pawn shop, got a couple hundred Lien I’m betting, absolutely wasteful, SHAME Adam-SHAME! 

ATHENCUTTO-

2:44 THE TRAIN STATION FROM AVATAR THE LAST AIRBENDER-but in the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuture! Nah it ain’t, but it TOTALLY looks like that right?

Qrow than gives a shameless recap-I MEAN-reads his own letter that he’s sending to General Ironwood(he probably wrote it drunk so I’m betting he was checking for spalling erors...don’t you JODGE me) which he ends with-

3:43 “See you soon, bro”.

‘Daaaaaaaaw!

BUT THEN-a wild Ruby appears, utterly excited that her train’s coming up so she could get out of that god damned train station! I understand her antsyness, the wait can be a NIGHTMARE!

3:50

Well that hall way has enough space, I’m sure Ruby can just saunter on over to the gift shop-

...or use her semblance and dash on over there like a crazy person. One of these days your gonna HIT someone young lady-GAH!

Team...RWBY...OJNR...Ruby O’Junior, yeah let’s go with that, then has a short moment of shooting the shit.

Heh, look at these two, fussing over gifts-PROTECT THESE SWEET BABY CHILDREN AT ALL COSTS! 

ALSO-a random Nora Beach fantasy!

...that apparently leaked its way into reality. Oscar H. Pines, Nora is so thirsty to see Ren in a swimsuit she alters time and SPACE!

BUT-just when you thought everybody is completely happy about this-

4:31 WEISS-casually reminds everyone how hard it was for her to escape her abusive father, and how this is hard for her-CONTINUITY!

After Ruby than gives the obligatory pep-talk-WE ARE INTRODUCED TO-

-Dee and Dudley, two corrupt pro-huntsman who try to shake down Ruby O’Junior, one of whom is JUST 2 weeks from retirement.

They also condescendingly tell them they’ll give them extra protection if they pay them...did...did these idiots NOT watch the news?! THEY’RE PRACTICALLY A SUPERHERO TEAM!

AND NOW-the greatest Rwby Reaction pose of ALL time-

5:05

THIS right here, THIS is art.

Qrow than shows up and GIVES THEM THE BUSINESS! No-one tries to shake down HIS kids! 

5:17

Look at Dee’s dumbfounded ass face after talking back, this is Qrow fucking BRANWEN mother fucker! Now go lock that gate that Adam sneaked into!

5:48 Oscar: I’m sure glad its our job saving the world and not theirs.

Jaune: Yeah, now if ONLY one of us didn’t hide a billion secrets from all of us because reasons.

Ozpin: Okay let me at him.

Oscar: YOU SIT IN YOUR SHAME OLD MAN!

After that, everyone in Team Ruby O’Hara is READY to go, except for Blake which Weiss points out...in the best way possible-

5:55 Weiss: Just waiting for Blake, as usual.

HAHA-she abandoned her team for months on end.

A THEN CUT TO-

6:02 Blake saying good-bye to her almost-ex-girlfriend Ilia, and its just SWEET.

6:24 WHOA-that’s a little forward Ili-

6:25 Ooooooooooh that was DIRTY Rooster Teeth, YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID! DAH-but its still a cute good bye-ALSO-

6:55 BEST BOY SUN WUKONG-here to say good bye as well!

OH-and Neptune’s here too. Hi Neptune, still living under that idiotic lady killer facade?

Neptune: OH...I didn’t know Ilia was gonna be here.

Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyup.

7:22 Blake: Wrong tree.

Sun: Yeah teaching him gaydar is one of many many MANY reasons I gotta rejoin my team.

The two than have a nice heart to heart about where they’re going in life, Sun needs to go back to Vacuo to be with his team he LITERALLY abandoned, Blake needs to save the world from a Maleficent cosplayer, they’re just passing ships in the night and it comes to a head...when Sun says this-

7:55 Sun:I GO WHERE I’M NEEDED...and...you don’t need me anymore!

Blake:...well when you say it like that it sound sad.

Aw man, sad Blake ears.

Sun(paraphrased): Despite everything I had a lot of fun but-

-you’re with who you’re supposed to be with now.

Bumblebee shippers will interpret THAT how they want to and I. Do. Not. Blame. THEM!

Sun and Blake than finish off their good bye saying they’ll probably see it again(and by probably we know definitely because COME ON Michael Jones is one of the heavy hitters in Rooster Teeth). The good bye then ends-

-with a cute Blacksun peck on the cheek. Feel conflicted about which ship for Blake is better yet? If not, you haven’t been watching this show so...what the hell are you reading this blog for? SHORT CUT TO-

8:49 

Neptune: I dunno man, it feels like your just letting her go.

Says the guy who can’t stick to one crush for more than five seconds. Notice how he didn’t say hi to Weiss? Because she’s logically MAD you blue haired Lothario!

AFTER THAT-there’s THIS little scene:

Sun: Now that your leader’s back and hardened from battle, I’ve gotta focus all of my time on getting you boys ready for the wastelands.

9:01

Neptune: *SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH*.

Anyone else think Neptune’s sigh might mean something more than just annoyance? I know Sun said his team was okay with the small hiatus, but what if they weren’t? Also maybe he was insulted by Sun implying that his team was just standing around without him, that while Sun was going on his adventure time standed still with them. Sun’s a good kid, and was mature enough to let Blake go once she got her real team back, but even to his own admittance he’s not the best leader. Just saying, food for thought.

A THEN CUT TO-

9:05 A nice snowy train where nothing bad is gonna happen. And INSIDE THE TRAIN-

-a totally not-suspicious looking Maz Napata from Star Wars meets old lady Katara from Legend of Korra who will TOTALLY not interact with the main cast...totally. BUT-enough about that-BEHOLD-

9:22 ALL of team Rwby sleeping in a bunkbed room like the good old days-HUZZAH! But all is not well AS THERE IS ALSO-

SUPER AWKWARD TENSION BETWEEN YANG AND BLAKE! But nah, Yang tells Blake that while things are weird and it’ll take a while before things get back to normal, she glad she and her posse are back together which PROMPTS-

THIS cuteness, which Whiterose shippers will interpret how they will.

Either way its TIME TO PLAY VIDEO GAM-

*CRASH*

10:31

DAMN that was a tough crash, it made Qrow lose his usually iron grip on booze! A THEN CUT TO-

...the...beginning of the episode...yeah I don’t know why they wrote the story like this either, I guess to start the season with a bang in showing how team RWBY is back in sync but I dunno.

But hey don’t worry, DEE AND DUDLEY are on the case, and I’m sure it TOTALLY doesn’t matter that Dee is two weeks from retirement!

*GASP* I am truly shocked. You shall always be remembered Dee, as a creepy weirdo who tried shake down a bunch of highschoolers for money.

THEN fighting fighting fighting, AND THEN-Dundey remembers he’s a security officer in charge of a high tech train!

12:06

I show four pictures here to point out that that WHOLE sequence took less than a MINUTE! Its like WE GET IT Rooster Teeth, you have an animation budget now! 

It also activated the turrets which take out ALL four of these Grimm, which I’m SURE the boss Grimm won’t notic-

12:46 Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhit it  noticed. It tells the lesser Grimm to attack the turrets and...oh god I found this by accident but it must be shared-

It landed-ASS FIRST! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

And as to be expected knocking out the turrets didn’t JUST take out their defenses-

But ALSO-put the passengers in danger. Its like, use the turrets some Grimm die but they’ll attack the train more, DON’T use the turrets and they’ll attack anyway with less dead grimm, its a total catch 22!

Obviously bad-ass Qrow Branwen realizes and gets his TOP GUY TO STOP DUNDY-

...Oscar...desperate times I suppose.

Dundey like an idiot DOESN’T listen to the logical decision to turn off the glowing red fuck me spots for the Grimm to hit, and even MORE idiotically-

*CRACK* NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

...decides to hang from the SIDE of a train going into a tunnel....instead of finding a way to duck...how many good Huntsmen/Huntresses did Salem’s unnamed faction kill, because I can’t help thinking he and his late partner were scraped from the bottom of the barrel.

BACK in the train, everyone’s as completely calm as they possibly could be.

14:19 Qrow: I SAID, turn those damn things OFF! *SLAM*

Seriously, in this situation Qrow is SUPER calm, I’d wanna kick his ass too.

Ruby then ACTUALLY calmly asks the guy to turn off the turrets(she’s got resolve of STEEL that one) AND THEY COME UP WITH A PLAN-to use a combo of Jaune’s Aura-booster powers and Ren’s emotion mask powers to mask the train. A plan that I’m sure will go off without ONE hit-

15:32 Oscar: I’m afraid there’s one complication.

Son of a god damned bitch Oz, I SWEAR TO GOD!

“The Grimm are also attracted...to this.”

Logically team Rugby O’Shaunnesy is as pissed at Oz as the fans for putting everyone in danger without telling them because he’s a mysterious wizard.

BUT-they gotta stay on task and kick Oscar in the nuts later, THEY MUST SAVE THE PYORPLES!

Sadly, they realize that they have to seperate the car with the passengers masked by Ren and Jaune, from the one with Team RWBY Qrow and a dumb old man in a child’s body. The two teams have to say good bye.

Jaune: Only if you’ll promise you’ll meet us there.

Ruby: Promise.

Weiss: Just know it’ll probably take a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG time for us to get there.

Qrow: I estimate about 12 to 14 epis-I MEAN days.

Team Bad-name-pun then SPRINGS INTO ACTION-getting all the passengers in the front car-

16:29

-including this one bespectacled passenger who will in no way affect the plot in any way no and forever QUIT ASKING ABOUT IT!

Blake then cuts the cable cars-BUT SEES-

GAH-stalker much? I can’t believe Adam followed them-OR DID HE-

Is it actually Adam, or PTSD induced hallucination, FIND OUT NEXT EPISODE!

And what’s cool about the next sequence is that it needed NO explanation, you get it obviously from what you see.

Rubes gets JUST enough of a signal from Nora-

-so the MOMENT the Grimm land-

17:02

“NOW!”

-they start the maneuver.

No real comment on here other than how I LOVE how the black and white color palette over-takes the colored train car.

And then BACK TO FIGHTING!

And dear GOD there are so many great Grimm-kills here, so many I’d be here ALL day cutting and pasting every single one so I’ll just put the boss take down-STEP ONE-

Yang slides herself to the back-

-Blake THROWS it to Yang-

-AND YANG JUST PUNCHES THAT SHIT BACK-

-tying that greasy Grimm in PLACE-WHICH WEISS CONTINUES-

-with a classic “Freeze that fucker’s wings off attack”(with assistance from Ruby and Qrow of course for shattering said wings)-and then Uncle and Niece-

-get they scythes in gear-

-AND THEY SLASH THAT BITCH IN TWO! AND.THIS.IS.JUST.THE.FIRST.EPISODE!

BUT-the beast lets out ONE last fireball knocking them off track and....EVERYONE IS OKAY-incluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuding-

-THIS LADY-whose name I’ve read is Maria Callavera! Turns out she WASN’T just a random side character, I couldn’t tell with how HEAVILY lampshaded it was!

AND THAT’S VOLUME 6 EP 1-a fantastic start to the season with AMAZING action and animation, and great story-progression. Minor criticism, I still feel they didn’t need to do a “Something hours earlier” thing with the train battle, they could’ve easily done the story in sequential order and it would have worked just as well if not better. BUT-I still loved it and I hope you did to. If you liked what you read, consider donating to my Paypal on my blog page, I’d appreciate it. SEE YA NEXT WEEK ON MICKSTERECAPS!

[hannibaltabu]

"Amazing. Everything you said in that sentence was wrong."

I just got done listening to the Mr. MoKelly spoiler-filled Nerdcast on Star Wars: The Last Jedi.

I was supposed to be on the podcast (and I was counted near the end), but I had to appear on a special edition of the Hall H Show podcast to promote the brand new Black Com!x Day in San Diego, February 17, 2018. I love Mo and Tawala, I love Star Wars and I love Nerdcast but this was about promoting independent Black comics, a financial benefit for me, so I had to make a call. Plus, my wife is in Cuba and couldn't pick up my youngest from Shakespeare rehearsal on this side of town, since the Nerdcast is in Burbank.

Regardless, I liked The Last Jedi even more after seeing it twice, and the following -- like the Nerdcast itself -- will be chock full of spoilers. If you have not seen the movie, you might wanna move on. Unlike their show, mine will have no profanity. Most of what I have to say will be a rebuttal, so I'll start with a declarative statement:

I can admit it's not an amazing movie, but I really thought it was a fantastic Star Wars movie. I liked.

... and then ...

Still amazing after the second screening. I'm in Normas Lee happy with this film.

iOS dictation made that weirder than I intended, but whatever. That was supposed to be "enormously happy."

Okay, here we go ...

Mo said there was nothing quotable about The Last Jedi. Ignoring the title of this post there was ...

"This isn't gonna go the way you think!" (used a lot with my kids already)

"The greatest teacher, failure is."

"He's a troublemaker. I like him."

"Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you can see it ..." "... you'll never make it through the night."

"I'd like to put my fist through this whole awful, beautiful city." (may have missed a word on this one)

"Permission to jump in an X-Wing and go blow something up?"

"I really don't want to do this right now."

"... I'll hold."

I was cracking up too hard to get the "Have you seen some weakness in my apprentice?" speech.

Mo said, "We know nothing about Rey."

Kylo made her admit the truth: her parents were not some cosmic royalty. They were not high ranking Jedis. They were civilians, normal jerks. The darkness rose, so the Force -- always making Force sensitive children -- dumped a bungload of midi-chlorians (or whatever) into Rey and made her powerful. The stable hand boy with Rose's ring on the casino world could be next, as he already has control over some of his telekinesis.

This fits Disney's mold incredibly well, making Rey a new everywoman heroine. Anyone can be this powerful. It could be you. That is gonna sell a bungload full of merch.

Mo said: "We learned nothing about this principle cast."

Finn has been hugged twice in his life now and kissed once, leading him to do all kinds of crazy and sometimes stupid things. About 2/3 of the way in, he grew up a little, and beating Phasma freed him from a lot

Poe Dameron was not a believer, he was a gun set in one direction. In a different world, he could have been the most dangerous pilot in the First Order's apparatus. It took a lot for him to start to mature so he could lead instead of just fighting, which he did mostly because of his parents (as seen in the Marvel comic).

Leia wants to pass the mantle of leadership on to Poe, her new "son," into whom she has poured all her lost hopes from Ben Solo. That tragic tale led her to do all kinds of interesting things, from demoting him to stunning him.

We got a LOT from Rose, who grew up poor, lost everything to the First Order, lost her sister fighting back, was inspired by Finn, who she had a crush on and then had to deal with the real guy, then saw that she still was attracted to him once he tried to not be the idiot he's been for so long. She was likened to Knives Chau from Scott Pilgrim, which I thought was a spot on analysis by Thomas Cunningham the 4th (we're rarely on the same side, so this was weird).

Ben Solo never had a chance. He had too many expectations heaped on his shoulders, was too powerful and had a master who knew too little. He got the Obi-Wan treatment and it ended essentially the same way, with him under the sway of a powerful, organized Dark Side user.

Luke was broken by every failure in his life. He accomplished exactly two things in his whole life -- the first Death Star at Yavin and "allegedly" turning Vader (which no one can prove, honestly). He failed his sister, he failed his friend, he failed his nephew -- all at the same time -- and wasn't man enough to do anything about it, instead pointing to his organization's history as a precedent for him to give up. Sadly, that fits whiny farm boys from Tattooine (who either failed into the Dark Side or this) and Mark Hamill acted his butt off in this role.

Leia had become everybody's favorite auntie, as quoted and shown in the reverence she's showed by everyone on screen. She played the role well, from "I changed my hair" to shooting Poe to revealing Holdo's plan.

The casino sequence got Finn to his resolution with Phasma and swings the camera to the new Force sensitive kid. That doesn't happen without the casino scene. Saying it was a dumb sidequest ignores the plot's development.

Tawala is mad at the X-Wing working so well on the dreadnaught, ignoring the fact that the large scale, shock and awe philosophy of the Empire (sampled enthusiastically by the Cosplay Empire, also known as the First Order, but never really played originally by the latter) has a well documented weakness against snub fighters. The First Order are so hell bent on recreating the Empire that they didn't learn anything, which makes the Yoda quote even more interesting. The Jedi failed. The Republic failed twice. The Sith failed. The Empire failed. The First Order ain't doing so well. What is the galaxy trying to teach its inhabitants that they're not hearing? That's the question that most haunts me from this film.

Likewise, Tawala asked why not send in a fleet of X-Wings. The Resistance was on the ropes. They lost ALL their bombers in one run on a single dreadnaught, which wasn't even the biggest thing the Kuat Shipyards ever built (the Eclipse was much longer, dunno if bigger). The Dreadnaught was a fleet killer -- and against capital ships, that's likely true. They could barely field the fighters they had.

Mo said, "There's no gravity in space." There is gravity in the bombers. Momentum would carry the bombs through the vacuum. I was more mad that the bombers were so slow.

Tawala is mad about Rey's dream sequence from The Force Awakens not matching the recollections of two people who were actually there. That's illogical. The dream sequence was an interpretation of the facts, not a retelling of it. Many on the podcast kept trying to say The Force Awakens is a factual recollection of events. That's clearly -- based on this -- not true. Despite the fact that it doesn't matter, based on new canon from the Darth Vader Marvel comic, lightsabers turn red when they are bloodied in anger.

The emperor's "As I have foreseen" was not prescience it was psychology. The Dark Side cannot be reliably used for information. Tawala and Mo misunderstand how the Emperor worked. His myth was way bigger than his actual ability. All of the movies have proven that Dark Side users are limited in their ability to gain knowledge and prescience from the Force.

Mo judging Snoke by the Emperor's yard stick is not judging this movie on its own terms. Snoke was what he needed to be. Historically, I want to know where he was around Endor and what he was doing, but I can move on now without questioning it, despite his vast power.

I can also tell my Star Wars Ring Theory link didn't get absorbed by the class here ... if you love Star Wars you should check it out, it messes with your understanding of a lot, especially the prequels.

It takes maybe 60 seconds for a non-powered person to die in vacuum. For the daughter of Vader to telekinetically figure how to save herself in that amount of time is not implausible. Leia's force abilities already shown? Communication across distances, sensing the safety of her brother from a distance. This isn't that big a leap for someone of her heritage given how far Rey got without training.

Someone wondered why Yoda's Force ghost wasn't fighting the First Order. Yoda is free from the cycle of life's struggles. He needed to teach one last lesson to his final student. To say he should fight the First Order after he already died is illogical, even if there was a powerful enough Force user in the Resistance who could reach him. You also forget the Bindu, which was a largely spiritual creature, could use lightning as a weapon too.

"Face" /= kill. Tawala forgot that in ROTJ Yoda told Luke he must "face" Vader before he could become a Jedi. Luke (like Tawala) misunderstood and said, "I can't kill my father" or something. You forget that Jedi lie and misdirect a lot. Spirit, come on, guys, this is stuff in movies we've seen a million times.

Mo thinks that he was cheated because he didn't know why everyone was after Luke as a non-factor. If Malcolm X or Marcus Garvey magically appeared today and went to the middle of Times Square to start speaking through my mobile 15" speaker, it would galvanize a freaking nation and terrify the power structure. Luke the Jedi wasn't the threat and even Luke said that. Luke the Legend was what Snoke had to stop, what Kylo had to exceed, what Leia wanted to manipulate. The Legend could inspire, could sway worlds and systems to resist. Luke the Jedi was just moderately successful. He was nobody's #1 seed. He was a Cinderella story wild card winner.

I will admit to wondering why no star destroyers went to lightspeed away and then jumped back in front of the Rebels until I remembered that Hux is literally bad at everything he does.

"Two hours in the middle" doesn't give credit to the entertaining dialogue, doesn't give credit to the time for character development for Poe under Holdo's stoicism, doesn't count Leia's "you made me get out of this bed" and shooting her favorite boy ... tripping, Tawala.

Tawala asked about arms purchasing but doesn't know that the Empire worked with the Mining Guild and the Banking Clans even after the New Order was established. Likewise, comics canon show that the Empire subcontracted a lot of weapons development, as does the Tie Defender program on Lothal.

Rick asked how Benicio del Toro (or as Mo called him, "Benicio del Lando," which was fair) knew about the small ships. While Poe was trying to mutiny, he told Finn about them while Benicio was hacking the door. Rick apparently missed that.

IN SUMMATION:

My final ranking of all the Star Wars films based on my tastes.

Episode 5: The Empire Strikes Back

Episode 6: Return of the Jedi

Episode 8: The Last Jedi

Episode 2: Attack of the Clones

Episode 4: A New Hope

Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith

Episode 1: The Phantom Menace

Rogue One

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Episode 7: The Force Awakens, or whatever

Ideologically, the BBC's Will Gompertz wrote a review I pretty much agreed with that summed up my thoughts.

These are my opinions. In the immortal words of the philosopher Robert Ginyard, "you don't like it, so what? I don't care."