The Phrase of Hope (A cheesy comedy)

Author's Note: This was inspired from reading about FDR and his sayings
November 7th 1934 Voice of Rupert Finnigan

Sunny rays of light squeeze their way into my room and usher me into consciousness, with the help of a unforgiving mom slapping my face. It's a regular Thursday morning, and my brother is still asleep because I have a job as a "newsie" and I have to get up early every day to deliver the paper to people around my neighborhood, the south side of Chicago, to support my family. My dad has a job as a bartender and isn't home often, my mom is unemployed because she has to take care of my sister who has some kind of autism. I grogily pull my clothes over my head and put on my cap and stride over to the newspaper office. Dozens of other boys around my age have had to skip out on school to support their struggling families, and the situation has gotten worse since some kinda money crash just happened during this past year, so people can't pull in enough money. A man with a look on his face that said no nonsense motioned me to come forward and retrieve my bundle of papers. He places them in my hands and I am taken aback with the weight of the papers, but that's only momentarily.

I already know my route and turn left down Cleveland Avenue and begin to heave the papers to their customers, and this begins to feel like I am going through the same cycle every day. Get up, deliver papers, etc, until I go to bed. As I turn a corner I feel a fist connect with my arm, and I drop the newspapers, sending them tumbling on the ground. I look in to the face of the neighborhood bully Norman Rolliney and reluctantly put up my fists ready to defend myself. Gosh what a sight that Rolliney is. He always has a cigarette clamped between whatever teeth he has left, and he is five years my senior. I'm twelve. He asks why I'm such a hurry and I tell him to shove off, so in turn he knocks me down to the ground being the jerk that he is. I take off, running as fast as I can towards my house, towards sanity, towards whatever I can find that won't depress me, hurt me, or ruin me. I stride in the front door to be met by a bloodcurdling scream. My sister is having another seizure, and my mom stands over her in a futile attempt to bring her around.

It feels like my life is spiralling down into chaos, for nothing has ever gone right into my life and the events slowly get worse. The worst part about my life is that it seems as though I've brought many of the troubles on myself by bad decisions on my part. I provoked the bully about two years ago by telling a police officer that he had picked off somebody's wallet. He really did, and spent three nights in the slammer. Since then he's had a blood feud with me and taken every opportunity to make my life miserable. Suddenly and idea pops into my head. I rush into the nearest telephone booth out onto the street, pull out a quarter, and pop it into a machine. I feel silly asking the phone if the operator's there, and suddenly I here a click. A man's deep voice sounds in my ear.
I ask "Hello is this the operator?"
The voice replies," speaking"
"Can you patch me over to the police department?"
"Why mac?"
"I'm reporting a theft."
"Alright, ya being patched over right now"
A different voice comes on the phone, one full of confidence and authority. The police department listens to my story and says they'll be over to Rolliney's place at sixhis gives me time to carry out my plan.
I walk tentatively to Rolliney's flat, and he's sitting out on the stairs eyeing the pedestrians walking by. I grab into my pocket and take out an old family heirloom, a gold studded watch, and out of the corner of my eye I see Rolliney cracking his knuckles in ecstasy. He waddles over with a suave look on his face.
"Watcha got dere Finnigan?"
"My watch, whatsit t' ya?"
"I'd like t' examine it."
With a practiced hand he snatched it out of my grasp and jogged back into his house. My plan had fallen into place all I had to do was wait.
At precisely six o' clock the authorities came into his flat. I watched out of the window. Rolliney struggled, but was not an issue for the police as they gingerly took the watch from his pocket and approached my house. After it was returned my mom turned on the radio, and President Roosevelts booming voice filled the room. I listened for the first time, this was another one of his "fireside chats."
"The only thing we need to have to fear is fear itself, I would like to assure you America, that there will be a chicken for every part."...
After listening to Mr. Roosevelt I realize that he is right, we can control this life, we can make it better, humanity will adapt. We shall overcome.