Partly Cloudy, 64°
Aw, c’mon, fellas! I ain’t gatherin’ you all here to be a sourpuss about no sellin’ of papes! Fact is, I do it better than all of yas! I’ve got the charm and hustle that really matters out here, champs. You all see me flappin’ those papers, drawin’ in a crowd faster than a pigeon to a crumb! You want today’s headline? Ain’t nobody better at sellin’ papes for double the pennies they worth than me!
That being said, I must say with some degree of earnestness that I am becoming increasingly pissed off by the daily acrobatic routines. I get that we’re all trapped in our situations in life and that dancing is an expression of our plight as poor newspaper vendors. The dance routines themselves are not the issue. But I am suspicious that you all carry a degree of resentment toward me because my crutches sell more papers? Like, yeah, I’m definitely more approachable because I’m disabled, but more importantly, I think I make more sales because while you guys are practicing front pikes for the whole day, I’m out there peddling the news.
But then earlier today Big Mikey whistled at me to make sure I was looking, and then he jumped off a third floor balcony, swung himself horizontally around two consecutive lamp posts, did a quadruple back handspring, zip-lined down a clothesline, and then heel-clicked as he landed in front of me and blew me a kiss. That was bizarre, Mikey. Don’t do that again.
George O’Malley also used me like a pommel horse the other day? That was super weird, he didn’t, like, run that by me beforehand. He came to stand next to me during the set, and I figured maybe he was just gonna sit this one out with me, which would have been cool, because it’s not like I have other people to talk to during the daily five hours of gymnastics. But then he jumped his spry little glutes up onto my shoulders and did a full 70 second pommel horse routine while everyone gathered and clapped. And then he did a backflip off of me and walked away.
Also, there’s a specific part where you all run and jump 10 feet into the air at the exact same time, and as you all meet for a 15-way high five in the middle, you shout, “The only Newsie is a Newsie that can do a back handspring!” That one is the one that I particularly hate. Cut that out.
And you all need to stop asking if I want to join your vertical jump competitions every time. I’m not even sure what to say about that.
So, go on with your high-fancy flips and tricks, but when it comes to sellin’ papes, I’m the real deal, bucko! Sorry all youse is jealous, but ain’t no one can out-sell me, and that’s a fact! You wanna beat the best in the business? Then stop spending all your newspaper-selling time doing choreographed acrobatics!
