Author's Note: Skittery, it's ... it's ... it's ...

Skittery: Over?

Yes! ((sobs))

Skittery: You're retarded. All this story was was a big lousy fest of my day. It's about time I go to bed or, like, get wasted 'cause that was one sucky day.

It wasn't ... THAT bad ... Okay, maybe it was.

Skittery: So how 'bout you just finish it, kay?

FINE. Just as soon as you thank the reviewers. Deep breath, now -

Skittery: ((mumbles)) Yeah, maybe you should take a deep breath ...

I don't know what that means.

Skitery: Don't. Worry. About it. Anyway. Ahem. Thanks to! Wisecracher88! Sprints 100! ella eternity! Crazy Pink Hat Girl! Daisy Miller! miss-anonymous13! Janers! madmbutterfly713! time is a waste of life! lucyrocks73! Spadey! LateOrliBloomer! Stephanie! SakiSaki! ShitteryGitUp! stress!

((sobbing)) It's all ... so ... magical!

Skittery: Shut the hell up.

---

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to go back to the Lodgin' House, but ... I mean, did you see the mess it was all in 'cause 'a me? Racetrack prolly hated my guts, and the fellas with him did too, I bet. You just don't go around hittin' Race. I told you that. I told you I think it's a real low and tacky thing to do, and it was. I just ... I wanted to go back and just go to bed. My head was hurtin' real bad and my feet was sore. I stopped walkin' altogether and just leaned against a building, focusin' on breathin' so I wouldn't do a sissy thing like cryin'. Wouldn't that just top it off? Well, they could throw what they wanted at me, but I'll be damned if I start ballin' like a baby.

I reached into my pocket, only to remember that I was outta cigarettes. I had to snort and be sarcastic about that, 'cause some things just can't be taken seriously. I mean, if I woulda let havin' no cigarettes bend me more outta shape than I already was, I mighta just slammed my head against the brick 'a that building. I was about to that point, anyway. So there I am, standin' with my hand in the pocket 'a my shirt in a real unnatural-lookin' way, and I just start laughin'. I just keep laughin' and laughin' and laughin', and I swear to you at least three dames actually looked at me and crossed the street to walk on the other side. I laughed about that, too. And maybe it's real weird I was crackin' up, but just think about it for a second. Just put yahself in my place. I hadn't sold a pape, I'd hurt Crutchy's feelings and hit Racetrack, I'd run into De, Belle, and my pops - two of which gave me a beatin' that was gonna be sore tomorrow, I never did get Blink, my shoes was ruined ... oh, yeah, and I'd been seen by practically the whole city 'a New York huggin' a Delancey, and the ugly one at that. Not that I find either 'a the Delanceys particularly attractive, but let's be fair about this - Morris's face looks like it was put together by a Blink with his eye closed. I mean, he's got one ugly mug, right?

God, I should just shoot myself now. Look at me, goin' on about how much uglier Morris is. Like gettin' groped by Oscar woulda been that much better. And, no, by the way, Morris didn't "grope" me, just so that rumor don't get around. Jeeze ... you know what I mean, right? It woulda been a losin' deal no matter what. That's all I'm sayin'.

I think it'd be best if we forget I ever said any 'a that.

So I'm leanin' against this wall, still laughin' a little bit at how incredibly not-funny the whole day's been, and who should walk by with that irritatin' smirk and that stupid cowboy hat to boot. Under normal circumstances, I woulda groaned or shot the bastard a real good, "leave-me-alone" glare. I mean, okay, I don't have that big of a problem with Jack. We been over this once already, right? Yeah. You just understand the fella gets on my nerves from time to time, and I was obviously in no mood. But 'cause I just couldn't afford to get any madder, I laughed even louder and held out my hand to the poor, confused sonuvaKelly, steppin' right in front 'a his path and givin' him the most obnoxious hello since ... I don't know when.

"Heya! Cowboy! Where're you off to, Jacky-Boy?"

He stared at me, mouth all open and eyes kinda wide and dazed - and that really was worth laughin' at. Like not in the nutso way I was laughin' about stuff before. "Hey, Skittery ... Good to see ya ...?"

I gave him a big, cheesy grin and slung my arm over his shoulders, skippin' along with his really slow, fumblin' steps. Man was I takin' him for a ride. He musta thought I really lost it. I mean, he was downright concerned. He stopped the both 'a us, lookin' me real long and serious in the eye. That was pretty hilarious, too.

"Skits, you been drinkin'?"

Now that's just funny.

I shook my head, tryin' to start us walkin' again, and right about then I tripped on my toes, and my foot caught on some sharp thing or another, and this real bad pain shot through my leg. Jack caught me, which I guess makes him bein' there better than him not, but he was also there to hear me scream much louder than I normally woulda. He stopped us again, lookin' me over real careful. I gotta say, I was actually pretty surprised. I mean, since when did Jack Kelly give a damn about me? I ain't funny like Race or pathetic like Crutchy, and I don't worship every little thing he does like Mush. There's really no reason for him to even pay any attention to me ... 'cept that his bunk's right above mine, and he steps on me every damn morning ... and, I guess, 'cause I'm the best freakin' pitch player in the Lodgin' House, and he'd be nuts to partner with anyone but me ... and, 'cause ... well, we do live together, and been livin' in the same place for years now ...

Just then, I really did feel like shit. I mean, if I didn't feel bad before, I was then. 'Cause Jack Kelly - the guy I hate and think about killin' somedays - looked really damn worried about me. And suddenly I was real relieved, too. 'Cause if a guy I don't even like so much, and am usually kinda mean to, like Jack could be that worried, then maybe ... well, maybe Race wouldn't be so sore at me as he oughtta be, ya know?

"Are you okay?" he asked me, real quiet and serious. And I smiled at him - for real this time.

"Yeah, it's just ... some stuff's happened."

Jack smiled to, but in a sad way. "Bad stuff?"

I shrugged and let go 'a his shoulders, crossin' my arms to look tougher. I guess at that point it didn't really matter, anyway. I think it was for me rather'n what I wanted him to think about me.

"The usual," I retorted, kinda gruff so he wouldn't ask any more about it. And Jack kinda laughed in the same way he smiled.

"You look like hell, Skitts."

I snorted, wonderin' if he had any cigarettes on hand. "Thanks."

He shook his head, and let it go. I was real surprised he let it go, too. Jack likes to nose in folks' business. He's a con just like his pops; he snoops so he can use it against ya later on. But I guess even cons can act like human bein's here and there. We walked along, just quiet. It took me a few minutes to figger out we was goin' to the Lodgin' House; I mean, okay, I had just come from that direction ... but ... okay, fine. I was just not payin' much attention. Is that a crime? Just 'cause I didn't notice don't make me an idiot.

I stopped soon as I realized where we was at. I couldn't really go in there, ya know. I mean, Race ... and Crutchy ... and with Race's big mouth, everyone prolly thought I was a regular jerk.

"You comin'?"

I shook my head, and just then Jack decided to be his usual pain in the ass self and dragged me through the door. Since you already got enough to give me a hard time about, I ain't gonna tell ya that I fought him every step. 'Cause, obviously, if I actually woulda fought him every step, I wouldn'ta ended up in the Lodgin' House. Next tah Mush, I'm probably the best boxer in the Lower East Side. I guess boxin' don't count for much on bum days. I wasn't really in the mood to hit Jack, either. I figger, I'd done enough damage for the day.

The fellas was all there, sittin' around, havin' cigarettes. My tongue was actually itchin'. I needed that smoke so bad ... but I didn't have the balls to ask 'em for one. The look Dutchy was givin' me alone was enough to make a fella turn around and head back out the door. But Jack had a death-grip on my shoulder, so I was kinda stuck. I forced a smile 'cause frownin' wasn't gettin' me nowhere.

"Heya, fellas!" Jack called out. He got some kinda mumbled, "Hey, Jack"'s in return. Not a "Hey, Skittery" to be heard. I knew I oughtta go -

"Anybody upstairs?" he asked, as if nothin' was the matter. Jack Kelly couldn't feel tension if it was gnawin' his legs off.

Snipeshooter shrugged; the only one thoughtless enough to say somethin'. "I don't think so."

And then Jack was shovin' me up the stairs, standin' at the railing and urgin' me on like I was a little kid and had to be told to go to bed. It wasn't any 'a his damn business if I wanted to go to bed. What makes Jack think he's gotta take care 'a everybody?

"Go up and get some sleep," he told me, and had to add, just so he wouldn't sound like a pansy: "Nobody wants tah deal with ya when ya're nuts."

I was really too tired to act pissed off at that.

I just went up the stairs and collapsed on my bunk. My eyes was closed and I was even relaxin' for a good five minutes afore ...

"BOO!"

"Holy shit!" I yelled, bolting up from shock. Giggles just exploded from the little punk who'd had the nerve to do that. I met Tumbler's bright, happy eyes, and just groaned.

"I gotcha!" he told me, all full with himself at pullin' one over on a big fella like me. I tried to smile, but my mouth didn't get too stretched out.

"I wanna go to bed, Tumbler ..." I said to him, thinkin' that would be the end of it and layin' back down. My eyes was practically closed and everythin'.

That little streetrat actually hit me in the face. "What would you wanna go to bed for? Sun ain't even set yet."

I sighed. "I made a lotta folks mad today, and I don't wanna talk to 'em. That's why."

Tumbler thought about this for a second. He's a regular philosopher when he wants to be - a real thinker. "I made Boots mad today. I cheated him at marbles."

I gave him a look that was real disapprovin'. So who cares if I ain't perfect? No reason for me to let me act up. "You shouldn'ta done that."

He nodded, real serious. You'd think the kid was goin' to a funeral. "I know. But I said sorry and then he let me play again. You should tell 'em you're sorry."

I had to smile. Am I right or what? A philosopher, that kid. "Maybe tomorrow."

Tumbler looked at me with his brow all wrinkled, showin' me how confused he was about that. He's a cute kid, ya know? So I opened my arm a little and he crawled up beside me, layin' his head on my chest. I thought about rustlin' his hair, but then I decided I shouldn't rile him. He was real interested in one 'a the buttons on my shirt, and he was kinda pullin' at it. I knew it was gonna give anyway - might as well let him yank it out.

"Why don't you talk to 'em today?" he wondered, kinda cockin' his head to look up at me. I shook my head, pullin' my hat off my head and layin' it beside me. I ran my fingers through my hair, tryin' to get it up like it's s'posed to be 'cause that hat kinda puts it down. I was thinkin' I'd better rinse it good tomorrow - it was gettin' greasy. I was thinkin' I should get up early tomorrow and buy Race and Crutchy some breakfast 'fore they went out to sell. I was thinkin' I'd read it was s'posed to rain again tomorrow. And the more I thought, the more I just kinda smiled. 'Cause even though today had been pretty crappy, it was over. And even though I'd wake up tomorrow and realize I'd slept in my clothes and I still didn't have shoes and I'd have to be especially nice to everybody - even Jack - it was an absolute impossibility for tomorrow to be worse'n today. I was actually smilin' when I closed my eyes again, 'cause tomorrow was on it's way.

"Today just ain't the day for it, Tumbler."

end