Well, I've had some pretty random ideas for this story. It should be funny, and Racetrack's stories are based off of the kids song (hey diddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon) yeah, that one. I know it's kinda weird, but bear with me, it should be good, and hopefully funny. No cussing or slash, I do not write that way.

Disclaimer: It is a tragic fact that the Newsies Ownership Strike is not over. They are protesting being owned by Disney, and want me to become their official owner. Good news for you, when I do, I will be making a Newsies 2. :P I also do not own the song, but I own the characters in Race's stories, and any Newsies you don't recognize.

Chapter Note: Racetrack is named Antoney because that's his name in all my Newsie stories I'm writing, but his family and background are not the same as in my other stories.

Enjoy, Laugh, and REVIEW! (Please!) :D

Racetrack's POV:

This is where I tell you about my amazing storytelling skills.

This particular story is about the time where I turned a short child's song from my past into a short story.

Who am I? Racetrack Higgins. Newsie, Gambler, Italian, shorty, and newly discovered storyteller.

It all started on what was a normal morning. That is, until about two minutes into our daily sing/fight/get dressed eventually routine, it started sprinkling outside. Then it started raining. Then it started pouring. Then the Lord spilled his bathwater out over all earth (New York anyways) and we knew we would definitely not be selling this day.

We all looked awkwardly at each other. Then Jack (our highly respectable leader) said;

"Well, boys, dere goes our day. We ken eidder play some poker (he looks at me imploringly) or go back ta bed (looks like this idea has his vote) inless any a youse 'as a better idea?"

Up went five hands. Kid Blink, Mush, Crutchy, Snipeshooter, and Boots.

"What, Blink?" Jack asked.

"Um, we could uhhh... I gots nuttin'. Mush?"

"Eat?" was his reply.

Then went Snipeshooter. "Wese could play marbles?"

The boys shook their heads, and it was Crutchy's turn to speak. Except he didn't speak. He screamed louder then any of us knew he could.

"PILLOWWWW FIGHTT!"

I swear, it was a good 4 minutes before any of us closed our gaping mouths (except Crutchy, he was dying of laughter) and were able to speak. Jack did first.

"Crutchy. What. The. Heck."

"What, just cuz I don't walk so good doesn' mean I can't have fun. An' dat was fun. Ya shoulda seen yer faces!" (He cracks up laughing again)

Next, Boots spoke up.

"We could all take turns telling stories?"

We all eventually agreed on this, and decided to roll two of my dice.

Whoever got a 1 or two of the same number first would tell a made-up story, and after that we would figure out what else to do.

Jack rolled. 3 and 5. Skittery rolled. 2 and 3. He passed the dice to Boots. 4 and 6. Then I rolled. 1 and 1.

So, I would be the lucky storyteller. I thought for a moment, and then the weirdest thing happened. I could hear my mother's voice singing to me, a memory of when I was younger.

'Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle

The cow jumped over the moon

The little boy laughed to see such fun

And the dish ran away with the spoon.

Buonanotte Amore. Ci vediamo al mattino, Antoney.' (goodnight love. I will see you in the morning, Antoney.)

After that, I was brought back to the present. And another strange thing happened. That song in my head gradually turned itself into a tale, an interesting one. And that is what story I told the boys.

"Well, once, dere was dis boy. He had curly brown hair and blue eyes, and he was da sweetest boy ya could know, always smiling' and helpin'. Every monday aftahnoon, he helped his mudder with the laundry, and every Saturday he went to da market with his elderly neighbor an' made sure she wasn't cheated. But he had a little problem. Dere was dis old witch lady who hated him, fer what reasons I don't know. One day, she toined him inta a cow."

Racetrack noticed several of the younger boys looking intrigued, however, Jack, Specs, Blink, and Bumlets all laughed. Racetrack ignored them and continued.

"So da beautiful little boy-"

"Boys can't be beautiful, and you ain't pretty!" interrupted darling Snipeshooter.

The older boys laughed again.

"Not beautiful in 'is looks, but in his heaht. An' when did I say I was pretty?"

"Oh. And you said it when we were singing at Tibby's once, you said 'ain't I pretty!' so hah!"

Racetrack shook his head.

"I meant handsome, but I had ta rhyme. And hah yerself, kid."

"Continue!" yelled Boots.

"fine, fine, I'm goin'" Racetrack grumbled.

"So da kind and helpful boy went off to find da wish-givah. Now, da wish-givah was a boy, but always went around in the shape of a black cat, wit' brown eyes, which w-w-was ec-ex-exep-t-sh-shonally u-unusual."

The older boys laughed at his struggling to say "exceptionally", for Racetrack actually had quite a terrible stutter which he fought always to control, sometimes not being able to. Racetrack flushed red and glared at them.

"Shet up! Now, de wish-givah had a magic fiddle dat could change intah any instrument and grant any wish (reasonably). He always made de people do something very hard foist, but always granted dere wishes. Unless dey was wishin' for sometin' real bad, or he didn't like dem. So, the cow-boy went to da wish-givah and asted ta be a boy again. So da wish-givah said yes, but dat he had ta jump ovah da moon foist. Shoah enough, da cow-boy jumped wit all his might an' jumped ovah dah moon. He became a boy on da way down, and hoit his leg real bad when landing, so he could nevah walk on it again. So, he found a crutch and used it to find a special place to stay for boys, and he got a job. Meanwhile, the cat-boy (wish-giver) laughed so hard at such fun, dat he became a boy. A short boy with dark hair and brown eyes, and a lotta attitude."

Racetrack was interrupted by Jack's crazy laughter, as he undoubtedly recognized Racetrack's inspiration. Racetrack punched him and continued.

"And da Cat-boy turned his fiddle intah a harmonica and went off to a big city where da nice boy had landed, and got a job at da same place as dah nice boy. But there was one more thing happening when da nice boy jumped ovah dah moon..."

Just then, Kloppman came in and Racetrack paused.

Kloppman informed them all that it was time to eat, and they could continue after breakfast. He had secretly been listening to Race's tales, and winked at him.

Well, there you have it, chapter 1. I'll continue it in one more chapter, possibly two, maybe a third if something you'll soon find out about happens. I hope you enjoyed and laughed. Now, I hope you review! And make me smile! And want to write more stories! Now, go type on that keyboard and press that blessed button.

:D