“EXTRA EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT!!!”

The young boy, no older than eight or nine, stood on the street corner, a rolled up newspaper in his hand. His clothes were ragged and dirty, a newsy cap pulled low over his eyes. The few pennies he made from selling papers would go to feed his grumbling stomach, so he raised his voice and shouted louder:

“EXTRA EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT!!!”

You decide to grab one of the papers, as your eyes are drawn the bold black letters of the headline:

New Mob Boss Moves into the Bronx

Recent takedowns in Las Vegas, in addition to the death of Godfather Tobias in Chicago, have shaken the criminal underground. New crew leaders have sprouted up around the country, including right here in our own city. The Bronx, laying empty since the death of Don Indubitably, has been taken over by Don Earl. Crime isn’t exactly our cup of tea here at The Daily News, but Don Earl seems a mysterious older man who little is known about at this time. He appears to be a distinguished man, perhaps of British descent? We look forward to learning more about new leader and what he will bring to this world.

As you finish your cup of coffee, a smaller story on the bottom of the first page catches your eyes.

Tea Bags Mysteriously Appear at Crime Scenes

A recent spike in criminal activity has boggled the minds of the NYPD. From the muggings of old ladies, to shop owners being conned of their hard-earned cash and jewelry stores being robbed of their brew-tea-ful jewelry, police are at a loss to explain just what is going on. The only evidence left behind at the crime scenes are little bags of tea. Detectives have put out a reward for any information the general public can provide about the culprit.

"So that's what these are?" said King Flippy Nips emptying out his pockets to show tea bags of various shapes and sizes. He looked up at CletusKasady not knowing that he had just put himself forward as the number one suspect for these crimes. He watched as all the people around started staring at him with wide eye'd amusement and disgust. 

Finally realizing that he had done something wrong he started to forcefully push the tea bags back into his pockets and made a run for it...Whilst on the run a dog appeared out of nowhere and started to nip at his ankles. King Flippy tried to bounce and jump as he ran to avoid the dog not taking into account how stupid he now looked. The People around were laughing in hysterics at the little king that was bouncing and yelling and dropping tea bags all over the place.

He finally disappeared out of the crowd of people and losing the large dog he realized he was thirsty so he checked his pockets and found one tea bag remaining that was still intact and untarnished. He headed off to a local safe house to brew his lucky tea bag. 

"I'll take one from ya..." John flicked a nickel to the boy shouting and in return was handed a paper. "Ta," he thanked the lad as he headed down the street and folded the paper, sticking it underneath his arm. It was time for some tea and the café on the corner was always a favored spot, so that was where John headed for his mid-morning cup. "Busier than normal today," he said with a chuckle, taking his normal seat facing the street and his back against the wall. A waitress dolled in white made her way over to him with a warm, inviting smile, "What'll it be, Mista?"

John unfolded his paper and gave it a pop, looking up from the pages to the beauty in front of him. "'Ot tea, lass. Black... An' maybe a slice of you too." He offered a wink and she smirked in return, "Sorry, Mista, not for sale." She smiled and turned around, giving a sway to her walk as she headed for his tea. A look over her shoulder told him she was thinking about it. John chuckled to himself then proceeded to catch up with the city news.

The headline immediately caught his attention: "New Mob Boss Moves into the Bronx". He read through the article and nodded, "Bout time 'e's mentioned." The waitress brought back his tea as he continued to thumb through the pages. "Here ya go, Mista. One hot tea, black. Any sugar for ya?"

"Only if it comes straight from you, lass." John looked over to the girl with a smirk, who answered with a low chuckle of her own. "Careful, or ya might get yourself in trouble. My boss don't like it much when fellas lay it on so...hard..." A smirk said she obviously wasn't new to this game, but nevertheless, John seceded with a bow and she grinned, scampering off. He took a sip of his tea, returning his gaze to the paper where a second headline caught his eye: "Tea Bags Mysteriously Appear at Crime Scenes". Almost spitting the hot tea all over the paper, he swallowed quickly and started laughing loudly. So much so that most everyone looked in his direction.

Taking notice, he regained his composure and pointed at the headline, "Wot? It's friggin' funny, eh?" A few others that had a paper chuckled quietly to themselves and nodded. John frowned, but returned to reading the article and drinking his tea...

"Lit'le buggers must be payin' Earl blood'y tribute or summat. Unless..." John perked a brow... "Unless it be Earl 'imself leavin' 'ims callin' card." He chuckled and folded the paper, placing it on the table. Finishing his tea, he stood slowly, leaving the cup, a saucer, eight dollars, and the newspaper behind. After adjusting his coat, John made his way out of the café.

What was an afternoon cup of coffee without a paper? Something to kick start the heart as the latest news crawled off the page. The mixture became a ritual. Louis lay the paper on the table, eased back into the chair and let the ink speak to him. It told a story of change. Of ambition. And adventure. But most of all, opportunity.

To take the past with a grain of salt and add some pepper to it, some zing, and maybe a touch of sweetness. To cut what was with a knife and find nourishment, even if it came across a little burnt. Because sometimes, the burnt bits were the best bits. And to add ones own flavour. As what would the future be if we didn't make it our own?

Louis waved at the waitress. His stomach was grumbling as he let her know the breakfast special would do. Something to fill his physical hunger before he set out chasing adventures of his own. A good news story could do that. Make one hungry for more to enjoy out of this life. And today's news did just that.

Fats gazed out the window, thinking of tonight's job. The planning had been done. All the numbers had been worked. But something was a little off. This feeling lingered as he slurped on the cup of joe and watched as the lively fellow made his way out of the café.

Locking the flower shop door behind her, Freddie made her way to commence the day's deliveries. Bouquets wrapped in tissue paper and small, brown paper packages tucked in bags and under her arm. It was hell working alone some days. As she rounded the corner, she eyed the little ruffian selling newspapers with a melancholy air of longing. With a warm smile, she pulled the change from her pocket... a nickel and two pennies... more than enough for a paper. Gingerly she pulled a single, neon gerbera daisy from one of the arrangements and tucked it behind the lads ear with a smile, handing him the change in exchange for a paper. "Smile, mijo," she told him sweetly, "the day is young and there is plenty still to see."  The boy simply rolled his eyes, and wriggled away from her in that smart-allec way that little boys do, moving onto the next customer before she'd even had time to hoist her bags from the cold street. 

Later in the day, back at the shop, she rolled the paper out onto the countertop; sipping a warm cup of tea and reading contentedly as she waited for the next customer to come calling. Absentmindedly, she dunked the tea bag into her cup repeatedly as she skimmed the black and white pages with some malaise. "This should get interesting." She mumbled to no one in particular as the bell above the door chimed out its cheery greeting...