Post by felix on Dec 19, 2008 20:07:11 GMT -5
"Grady, where's my damn cuff links?"
"I'm not supposed to look after then, Brendan!"
"Lemme get my thoethine box!"
"Oh, for God's sake, lads, where's the towel?"
"My suspenders broke! Brendan, fix them, please...?"
"Someone better find me my cuff links!"
"Sucks to your cuff links! I need my hat!"
"I'll tell you where you can put your hat!"
"Shut up, Grady, who asked you?"
"Will someone please fix Torrin's suspenders?!"
"He asked you to do it, lazy!"
"Dugan! I need my thoethine box!"
"Felix, can you stop being a pain in the neck for one minute?"
"But Dugan..."
"Dugan, will you stop blaming our little brother?"
"I need my fecking hat!"
"Dugan!"
Suddenly, Felix and Torrin both erupted into a fit of embarrassed laughter, and at first, the three older boys alternated between looking at them annoyed, and glancing accusingly at Dugan, before the high-pitched sound of their little brothers' laughter broke the anger between them, and they dissolved into chuckles as well. Brendan helped Torrin fix his suspenders and found his cuff links near the sideboard. Grady got Felix's shoeshine box off the shelf where it was kept and handed it to him. Dugan found his hat on the floor under his bed. Finally dressed and ready, the boys came down from their attic bedroom as one, into the modest, comfortable home of the Harrisons.
Mr. Harrison had already left for his tailor shop. Mrs. Harrison had breakfast on the table, and the boys didn't hesitate to sit down. Rosaline and Emma were already there. Rosaline greeted her brothers warmly, and Emma did the same. The Harrison ladies and the five wards ate breakfast contentedly, chatting away about their plans for the day and things they needed to accomplish. Mrs. Harrison excused herself to answer a call at the door. "No doubt it's Mrs. Livingstone with some piece of gossip or another." The children smiled, knowing that Mrs. Harrison only pretended to dislike Mrs. Livingston's ear for gossip. The clock struck eight, and Rosaline jumped from her seat. "Piano lessons now," she exclaimed brightly. Emma nodded to her and stood as well. As Rosaline hurried to the parlor, she took cleared the plates from the table. Before leaving, she said good-bye to the boys. "Best of luck at work today," she said with a smile. Her pale eves lingered for a moment on Brendan. "Good-bye, Brendan."
He smiled at her, and watched her leave the room. Only Felix and Grady seemed to notice: Dugan was preoccupied with the fact that Torrin wouldn't surrender the rest of his breakfast. In a half hour, the boys dispensed. Brendan would make the walk to the New York World office in Manhattan. Dugan, Torrin and Grady followed him; they would part ways at the gate to the office, where they would sell the newspapers that their brother helped print--well, in theory. Felix walked in the opposite direction, his shoeshine box securely under his arm. He walked three blocks to the corner of Hoover Avenue, where the chairs were set, and set down his box next to one. He sat in a chair and chanced the lid of his box open: brush, rag, and polish.
A gentleman passed, looking tired and mussed. From the angle that he chose, Felix could easily see people's feet. "Polith your thoes, thir? A nickel to thine!" The man stopped, thought, and nodded. Felix jumped from the chair, allowing the man to sit down. He then fell into the practiced rhythm: brush, polish, brush, buff. Repeat for the other foot. Felix added an extra snap to his rag and nodded to the gentleman. "All done, thir! Thank you!" The man handed him a nickel, and Felix pocketed it quickly as the man walked away. He resumed his seat on the chair and began whistling through the gap in his teeth.
It was a beautiful autumn day.
"I'm not supposed to look after then, Brendan!"
"Lemme get my thoethine box!"
"Oh, for God's sake, lads, where's the towel?"
"My suspenders broke! Brendan, fix them, please...?"
"Someone better find me my cuff links!"
"Sucks to your cuff links! I need my hat!"
"I'll tell you where you can put your hat!"
"Shut up, Grady, who asked you?"
"Will someone please fix Torrin's suspenders?!"
"He asked you to do it, lazy!"
"Dugan! I need my thoethine box!"
"Felix, can you stop being a pain in the neck for one minute?"
"But Dugan..."
"Dugan, will you stop blaming our little brother?"
"I need my fecking hat!"
"Dugan!"
Suddenly, Felix and Torrin both erupted into a fit of embarrassed laughter, and at first, the three older boys alternated between looking at them annoyed, and glancing accusingly at Dugan, before the high-pitched sound of their little brothers' laughter broke the anger between them, and they dissolved into chuckles as well. Brendan helped Torrin fix his suspenders and found his cuff links near the sideboard. Grady got Felix's shoeshine box off the shelf where it was kept and handed it to him. Dugan found his hat on the floor under his bed. Finally dressed and ready, the boys came down from their attic bedroom as one, into the modest, comfortable home of the Harrisons.
Mr. Harrison had already left for his tailor shop. Mrs. Harrison had breakfast on the table, and the boys didn't hesitate to sit down. Rosaline and Emma were already there. Rosaline greeted her brothers warmly, and Emma did the same. The Harrison ladies and the five wards ate breakfast contentedly, chatting away about their plans for the day and things they needed to accomplish. Mrs. Harrison excused herself to answer a call at the door. "No doubt it's Mrs. Livingstone with some piece of gossip or another." The children smiled, knowing that Mrs. Harrison only pretended to dislike Mrs. Livingston's ear for gossip. The clock struck eight, and Rosaline jumped from her seat. "Piano lessons now," she exclaimed brightly. Emma nodded to her and stood as well. As Rosaline hurried to the parlor, she took cleared the plates from the table. Before leaving, she said good-bye to the boys. "Best of luck at work today," she said with a smile. Her pale eves lingered for a moment on Brendan. "Good-bye, Brendan."
He smiled at her, and watched her leave the room. Only Felix and Grady seemed to notice: Dugan was preoccupied with the fact that Torrin wouldn't surrender the rest of his breakfast. In a half hour, the boys dispensed. Brendan would make the walk to the New York World office in Manhattan. Dugan, Torrin and Grady followed him; they would part ways at the gate to the office, where they would sell the newspapers that their brother helped print--well, in theory. Felix walked in the opposite direction, his shoeshine box securely under his arm. He walked three blocks to the corner of Hoover Avenue, where the chairs were set, and set down his box next to one. He sat in a chair and chanced the lid of his box open: brush, rag, and polish.
A gentleman passed, looking tired and mussed. From the angle that he chose, Felix could easily see people's feet. "Polith your thoes, thir? A nickel to thine!" The man stopped, thought, and nodded. Felix jumped from the chair, allowing the man to sit down. He then fell into the practiced rhythm: brush, polish, brush, buff. Repeat for the other foot. Felix added an extra snap to his rag and nodded to the gentleman. "All done, thir! Thank you!" The man handed him a nickel, and Felix pocketed it quickly as the man walked away. He resumed his seat on the chair and began whistling through the gap in his teeth.
It was a beautiful autumn day.