"God it's hot." Mush commented to no one in particular as he skipped down the streets of New York, paying no attention to the other people on the streets, who were giving him some very odd looks. Mush usually brushed them off as yet more jealous nobodies that couldn't sing or dance as well as the newsies--especially him--could.
Mush smiled to himself, thinking of how envious everyone was of him...including all the other newsies. Everyone also knew that he had the best body out of all his fellow paper boys. Life was good to Mush.
"God it's hot." he said again, continuing on his merry way.

Meanwhile, over in Brooklyn, chaos was erupting.
"I don't care what you say, Spot! It's true!" Moody, one of Spot's henchmen was arguing, obviously frustrated. "I'm tellin ya, it's true! All them guys, they're sayin' that there's anudder newsie in New Yawk with weirder eyes than yours!"
Spot, using his most intimidating glare (which wasn't hard, considering that he had eyes which could scare the bejeepers out of everyone.), retorted, "It ain't true, Moody-boy. It ain't true. Tell me I'm hearin' things! Tell me my ears are decievin' me, and you didn't just say dat, and you didn't just say that to me, Spot Conlon, master of all sand time!"
"Uh...Spot?" Moody said nervously, "that's 'the toughest newsie in all of New Yawk.'"
"Huh? Oh yeah..yeah, right." Spot mumbled, distracted and not paying much attention...his mind was elsewhere. Spot Conlon had the most feared eyes in all of New York...and probably everywhere else. Without his eyes, Spot was just some scrawny kid with a bad-boy wannabe accent (well....and real purdy hair, but that probably wouldn't get him very far in Brooklyn.). Now he's hearing rumors that his eyes are being replaced by another pair of peepers? This was no good. He had to find out more, and take care of this little problem.
"Say, Moody-boy...who exactly is dis so-called 'new set of ears'?" asked Spot.
"Uh...eyes, you mean?"
"Yeah...yeah, eyes, dat's what I said." Spot muttered, distracted again. "Well, who is it?"
"Well Spot, see...when we went to that rally to help out Jack's crew with the strike, some of us began to notice that...that...well, that Dave has really weird eyes."
Spot stared at Moody, his intimidating eyes growing wide with disbelief. "Dave? David Jacobs? That Dave? Sissy non-violent David Jacobs has better eyes than Spot Conlon?!"
"No...not better, Spot...just...weirder."
But Spot wass already back in distractionville. He decided that maybe it was time to pay Davey-boy a visit.

Back in Newsieville, Mush has finally reached the Lodging House. He would have been there sooner, but along the way, he saw some other kid who had a pair of new shoes (with matchin' laces, no less!), and decided to soak him.
Upon entering the Lodging House, he found Skittery sleeping on the steps. Mush reached down and smacked him on the head, (as all the newsies had learned--the hard way--Mush liked to smack people.), as Skittery awoke with a jolt. "I didn't do it."
Mush rolled his eyes. "What didn't you do this time, Skit?"
"I didn't go into the 'Sun' headquarters, buy the paper, fire Denton, hire Frank, an-"
"Frank?" Mush questioned.
"ya know...Frank..the waiter who bobs in the background when we dance."
"Oh, okay." Mush said, giving his friend a weird look, as Skittery continued.
"Anyway, and then to finish it up, I didn't hire Frank to take Denton's place."
"Yeah...sure man." Mush sighed. Skittery always woke up denying the oddest things. "Whatever you say man."
Skittery shrugged , and then ran his fingers through his hair. "God it's hot."
Suddenly, Mush non-chalantly leaned over and smacked his chest, glaring.
"What'd ya do that for?!" Skittery yelled, wincing in pain.
"That's my line. You have to find your own."
"Okay...for a buck a might.", Skittery responded, yawning again. Still, he received yet another smack in the head from Mush.
"Now what?!"
Mush shrugged. "Felt like it."
Skittery looked at him for a moment, and then shrugged his shoulders before going back to sleep on the stairs. Mush sighed...Skittery was such an airhead.

Once upstairs, Mush heard a familiar voice sing a familiar line.
"That's my cigar..."
"Stop saying that, Race!" Snipeshooter's deep voice bellowed. "I took your cigar once! Just once! Now I get accused of takin' it every morning! I don't have your steenkin' cigar!"
Racetrack went for his throat, but Mush stepped in betweem them, getting them both in the head at once. S-M-A-C-K.
Jack emerged from his bed, eyes bloodshot, and hair clinging to his forehead. Mush waited a second, until Jack was in plain view of everyone, and then walked over, asking in a loud voice, "So, how'd ya sleep Jack?" (Mush's motto, after all, was to always be the center of attention. If life was a movie, he'd try to push his way into every scene.)
"Ain't it obvious?" grumbled Jack, "Just look at how awful I look. I didn't get a wink of sleep, tossin' and turnin' all night. I hoid Skittery say 'I didn't do it.' about thoity times. Plus, now I'm havin' severe stomach pains. I think I'm comin' down wid sometin."
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Mush let out an irratatingly loud chuckle, as he smacked Jack repeatedly in the stomach. "Didja hear dat fellas?! Did ya hear what Jack said?! I asked Jack how he slept, and he says...oh...sorry, man." Finally, Jack's answer registered with him. "I was expectin' you to say 'On me back, Mush.' just like ya always do."
Jack couldn't answer. Mush's continual smacking had further upset his already weak stomach, and he made a mad dash to the washroom to throw up. So Crutchy took his place in the conversation.
"Ya know Mush...ya ask Jack that same question every day, and he always gives you the same answer. It ain't funny no more. In fact," Crutchy continued, using a voice just irratating enough to measure up to Mush's laugh, "it wasn't ever funny to begin wid."
Mush, of course, brushed Crutchy off as another extremely jealous newsie and ignored him...but not before giving him a smack upside the head.
Suddenly, Boots came runnin' in. "They just put up the headline!" he cried.
"What's it say?!" about ten newsies asked in unison.
Boots shrugged. "It don't matter, I just got the better story from the copper on the beat." He paused before continuing, "Word has it, Spot Conlon is comin' back to town...and he's madder den a pitbull!"
As all the newsies looked at each other in fear, a silence filled the room...broken only by a sleepy voice that floated up from the staircase. "I didn't do it!"

Spot, trailed by Moody, walked along the street where they had helped with the strike not too long ago. As he walked, Spot lifted his walking stick high into the hair and screamed "Brooklyn!", every time they came to a street corner. Being the toughest and most respected newsie in New York...and probably everywhere else, Spot ignored the strange looks people on the streets were giving him, and didn't even notice when, on one corner, one jokester yelled back, "It's the other way! Go back and bug them!"
Finally, Spot spoke an actual sentence. "Hurry Moody-boy, we's almost to Pulitzer's office...I can't let him take ova!"
Moody coughed. "Uh...you mean, the Lodging House...Dave's eyes? Remember?"
"Dat's what I said! The Lodging House and Dave! You goin' deaf or sometin', Moody-boy?!"

Back at the Lodging House, the Newsies were still discussing Spot's return.
"What do you think he wants?" asked Jake.
Suddenly, a new faceless voice spoke to them, interrupting. "Ahem."
The newsies looked around at each other in confusion. The voice spoke again, louder. "AHEM."
Race tentatively piped up, "Uh...God? Dat you?"
The voice replied with a laugh, "No...I'm Lani. The one known as Jake...step forward!"
"Who's Lani?" Jack whispered to Snoddy, who shook his head, face blank.
Jake stepped up, asking nervously, "Whadda ya want wid me?"
Lani the mysterious voice responded, 'I'm just letting you know about a few changes that are about to take place in this story," she continued, "frankly Jake, I don't know what it is, but you bother me. I don't like you. I can't stand you. So, from now on, you will be known as, 'that kid who buys papers from the newsies. And, you shall now all welcome the new Jake...you may remember him as the kdi with the body that Sarah handed a paper to while you were singing 'Once and For All' during the strike."
Jake, now known as "that kid", asked the others, "Can she do that?"
The newsies looked at each other, and shrugged.
The Lani-voice spoke again. "Of course I can do it...I'm the author of this fan fiction! Go on, check your scripts!"
All the newsies pulled a packet of papers out of their back pockets, checked, and sure enough, the Lani-voice was right. They nodded in agreement. A crushed Jake, now OFFICIALLY crowned "that kid" left the Lodging House. Minutes later, the kid formerly known as "the body" walked in, and all the others shrugged, then greeted the new Jake.
"Now," Jack began, still looking a tad ill, "back to Spo-", but the Lani-voice interrupted them once more.
"Oh yeah, one more thing. Now that the new Jake has arrived, Mush, you no longer have the best body out of all the newsies." And with that, the voice was gone.
Realizing that he had just been replaced, Mush dropped to one knee and screamed, "Oh NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" before dropping his head in his hands and and sobbing, as once again, the group heard a sleepy voice on the staircase...
"I didn't do it."

Over where the Newsies who actually lived in houses lived (For the record...that would be David, and only David), Dave stood on the balcony.
"David look!", an excited voice came from inside the house. "It's Denton's article!"
Dave, the only Newsie who speaks without an accent, turned around and glared at his sister, using his icy stare. "Sarah, you say that every morning! Denton writes for the newspaper! Of course you'll see his articles in the paper in the morning every day!" Dave paused, as something on the paper Sarah was holding caught his eye. "And furthermore, why in God's name are you showing me last week's paper, when you know darn well that I am the first one to read every single paper, every single morning!"
Sarah burst into tears, then ran back into the house crying, "You stupid ape! I was only trying to help!"
David sighed. Sometimes he really hated being the smartest person in New York.
Suddenly, his thought's were interrupted by a familiar voice at the bottom of the fire escape. Jack stood on the ground, dressed in his cowboy outfit--hat and all.
"C'mon Walkin' Mouth! We gotta go, Spot's in town, and he's spittin' fireballs. We gotta sacrifi--I mean, use you to find out what he's mad about."
With that, David followed Jack down the streets to the Lodging House.