You Don't Know Me
Title: You Don't Know Me
Rating: PG13
Fandom: Newsies
Characters: Weasel
Word count: 364
Warning: None
Summary: Don't talk to me like you know me. Because you don't.
You've got to work hard, you've got to work hard. If you want anything at all. Nothing comes easy and that's a fact.-Depeche Mode
Don’t talk to me like you know me. Because you don’t. You never did. And, god willing, you never will. Yeah, that’s right. Laugh. Go on, joke at my expense. Make fun of the old fat guy.
Smile and joke and pay for your papes, then get the hell out of my sight. You’re nothing. The lot of you. Nothing. Poor, dirty and ignorant. No prospects for a better future and no one who loves you. So laugh. That’s all you got.
Me, I’m somebody. I worked hard all my life and look where it’s got me. I’m the one behind the window. I’m the one working in the office with more money in my pocket then you’ll make in a month.
I’ve been here for years. I’ve watched your type come and go. You can’t be a newsie forever and life only gets harder from here on out. So in a couple of years, when you’re off breaking your back on the docks or slaving away in some factory, you’ll think back on me and wish you had it so easy.
Easy. That’s what my life is. I’m comfortable as can be. When I leave this office I go home to my wife and my sweet girls. And when they see me come through that door, their faces just light up. I’m respectable. I’ve got connections. My sister came to me in hopes of finding a good situation for her boys, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t do just that.
I gave my nephews decent jobs. Sure, they have to put up with you lot, but work ain’t about having a good time. It’s about payday and being able to feed your family. It’s about being able to hold your head up high, rubbing elbows with the top dogs, and even having enough to spot you lousy brats nickel when your down on your luck.
So go ahead, smirk at me. Call me names. Treat me like I’m trash. You don’t know me. And you never will.
Fun Fact: I've always felt bad for Weasel. It's got to suck having to deal with newsies.
Rating: PG13
Fandom: Newsies
Characters: Weasel
Word count: 364
Warning: None
Summary: Don't talk to me like you know me. Because you don't.
You've got to work hard, you've got to work hard. If you want anything at all. Nothing comes easy and that's a fact.-Depeche Mode
Don’t talk to me like you know me. Because you don’t. You never did. And, god willing, you never will. Yeah, that’s right. Laugh. Go on, joke at my expense. Make fun of the old fat guy.
Smile and joke and pay for your papes, then get the hell out of my sight. You’re nothing. The lot of you. Nothing. Poor, dirty and ignorant. No prospects for a better future and no one who loves you. So laugh. That’s all you got.
Me, I’m somebody. I worked hard all my life and look where it’s got me. I’m the one behind the window. I’m the one working in the office with more money in my pocket then you’ll make in a month.
I’ve been here for years. I’ve watched your type come and go. You can’t be a newsie forever and life only gets harder from here on out. So in a couple of years, when you’re off breaking your back on the docks or slaving away in some factory, you’ll think back on me and wish you had it so easy.
Easy. That’s what my life is. I’m comfortable as can be. When I leave this office I go home to my wife and my sweet girls. And when they see me come through that door, their faces just light up. I’m respectable. I’ve got connections. My sister came to me in hopes of finding a good situation for her boys, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t do just that.
I gave my nephews decent jobs. Sure, they have to put up with you lot, but work ain’t about having a good time. It’s about payday and being able to feed your family. It’s about being able to hold your head up high, rubbing elbows with the top dogs, and even having enough to spot you lousy brats nickel when your down on your luck.
So go ahead, smirk at me. Call me names. Treat me like I’m trash. You don’t know me. And you never will.
Fun Fact: I've always felt bad for Weasel. It's got to suck having to deal with newsies.