So what's yer name, kid? Real name, I mean--first an' last. I gotta keep accurate records or the city gets on me back, but I ain't gonna share 'em wit no one.

Mr. Kloppman, I don’t got a real name. I was livin’ in the gutters since I could crawl and no one ever called me nothin’ but street-rat since I can remember. I musta had a mother, once, but she either had too many other kids to care what happened with me or she died and I made a great escape.

Ya gots a nickname? How'd ya get it?

Since I was jus’ a kid, everyone called me “Niney.” Look. See my pinky finger? Half of it’s gone. I guess I got that yanked off me when I was a babe.

Know how old ya are? When's yer birthday? The boys all likes to chip in an' make ya feel special. By which I mean, they likes any excuse for a party.

I don’t know neither my birthday or my age, but I guess it’s somewhere around 16. Anyway, I look just as old as those other boys who say they’re 16.

Now describe yer appearance for me. Try an' be detailed. My mem'ry ain't what it useta be, an' if I hears about a vicious killer on the loose, I wanna be able to check my records an' make the connection.

I got dark hair and dark eyes. I guess my hair could use a cut, but I ain’t gonna waste my money on a barber when I could be puttin’ it to perfectly good use otherwise. I try to keep my hair slicked back in my cap but it falls back in my eyes all the time. I do my best to keep clean but I ain’t got much but what’s on my back, so that’s hard. I just got this red-muddy-colored shirt and brown wool jacket. Ain’t even got no lapels yet. Someday. I mentioned that half my pinky is gone, see, here on my right hand, but it don’t bother me none. Oh, and I got three big freckles here on my right cheek.

Got any odder job 'sides sellin' papes? Legal or illegal, I ain't gonna squeal on ya.

I does what I can on the side, anything for some extra cash, you know? The big-wigs along Park Row want me to run an errand? A guy needs a bonafide tour of City Hall Park? Here I am, Niney, at yer service. I don’t work for free, no sir, but I am honest and I won’t cheat nobody.

All right, time for the big one. What kinda person are ya, kid? How d'you treat odders? How d'you treat yerself? We gets all kinds here, so be honest--I just wanna know what to expect.

I know what it’s like to be one of those boys what’s got to carry the banner every night and ain’t got a dime to spare on a warm meal. I was one of those boys for years, but it’s been the kindness of others what made sure I wasn’t starvin’ or freezin’ to death at night. Now that I can look out for my own self, I do what I can to help the younger kids. I ain’t one of those bullies what takes a kid’s money. That ain’t to say that I’m a good kid. I don’t care much for anybody’s rules but mine... but I guess what you have goin’ on at the Lodging House ain’t so bad as to do anything as to get kicked out.

Got any hobbies? Whaddaya do wit yer spare time?

I like bummin’ and I like seein’ shows at Irving Hall. Oh, and I like makin’ the trip over to China Town.

How 'bout vices or bad habits? Smokin', drinkin', gamblin'? I want 'cha to promise to keep 'em outside the house.

I’ll be honest with you: I done my share of alla those things and I wouldn’t say no to any of them now. I keep my drinkin’ under control, though. Seen too many guys gone to waste and drinkin’ on the job keeps customers away. I won't gamble and smoke nowhere but alleyways.

Got any fam'ly or friends 'round here? Or enemies, for that matter? Tell me who ya knows in the area.

I ain’t got no one. Don’t need no one, really.

An' maybe a special someone? I got a special set o' rules when it comes to that sorta t'ing.

Peh. Last thing I need is a girl to make me all soft. No problems with me there, Mr. Kloppman.

Fin'ly, every boy's favorite question... *chuckles darkly* What can ya tell me 'bout yer past? Where'd ya grow up, what brought ya here, an' what happened in between?

I don’t remember my mother or father, don’t remember a home. First times I remember were bein’ with other boys my age in the gutters. Bein’ hungry. I remember watchin’ them get sick and gettin’ sick myself. No one cared and everyone pretended like we didn’t exist. All those boys are either dead or gone bad by now. We all sold papers as soon as the bigger boys put them in our hands and told us what to do with them.

I always been down in this part of Manhattan, as I can remember. I find myself always goin’ back to Pell Street so maybe I came from somewhere around those parts. Or maybe it’s just the smell of the chop suey.

Don’t go feelin’ sorry for me, cos I don’t. Got me enough money now to spend on a room here. I am movin’ up in this world. I am gonna make somebody out of me.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Profile By: Eddy

E-mail Address: eringi@gmail.com

AIM or Other Screen Name(s): fattiedorkins (AIM)

Character Song: Good Times Gonna Come by Aqualung