Here is my disclaimer for the entire story: Don't. Own. Newsies. I know I have two black marks on my permanent ffnet record, BUT if this sounds like some other story you've read, don't flame me, because I didn't steal this. It was inspired by my best friend, Boomerang, who is not on ffnet...yet. ANYWAYS, just wanted to clear that up. Enjoy!

The name's Tory, but call me Two-Bits. That's my newsie name. See, I'm obsessed with this movie called Newsies. It's a musical about...well...newsies! You know, sellin' papes, strikin', soakin' scabbas...all that jazz. Anyways, I love muscials, and Newwsies is my favorite 'cause it's funning, and consists of a helluva lot of hot guys. (
So, anyways, I'm sittin' on me bed, listenin' tah (what else?) my Newsies soundtrack--excuse me--Racetrack, as I call it. It had been pouring down rain for the past three hours, and it showed no signs of relenting whatsoever. My folks were somewhere in the Caribbean, enjoyin' their twenty- eighth anniversary cruise, and they left me. Home alone. With a credit card.

Muahahahahaha...

Just as I was...erm..."getting' my groove on" (ifya can call it that) tah King of New York, the power goes out. Great. I sat in the dark for a moment, then stood up, carefully making my way to the door.

Then I heard it.

There was an audible crash downstairs, and the familiar sound of shattering glass. (Many a glass has slipped from my fingers.) I fgured it was the cat, but I was dead quiet, anyways. If it wasn't the cat, I wanted my presence to remain unknown.
Silent as the grave, I crept downstairs, trying furiously to remember if the flashlight was still on the wine rack. The minute I set foot in the kitchen, however, the lights flickered on, and I found myself staring down the wrong end of a loaded slingshot. I stared at my opponent, and he stared back, and I couldn't help feeling like I knew those icy blue eyes...
I let out a gasp of shock, amazement, disbelief, and...more shock. Then I felt my knees weaken.

It was Spot Conlon.