Some of these quotes are 100% serious and meant genuinely, especially in regard to Dally and Johnny. Other quotes are absolutely us being pedantic, entirely because of how much of a hissy fit Hinton threw for the mere suggestion that there is a possible queer reading of this book. So if some of these seem like reaches… they are, and that’s what makes it so much fun.
Chapter 1:
WHEN I STEPPED OUT into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home. (Paul Newman, a bisexual icon.)
I have light-brown, almost-red hair and greenish-gray eyes. I wish they were more gray, because I hate most guys that have green eyes, but I have to be content with what I have. (Ponyboy has a type.)
Darry is six-feet-two, and broad-shouldered and muscular. He has dark-brown hair that kicks out in front and a slight cowlick in the back--- just like Dad's--- but Darry's eyes are his own. He's got eyes that are like two pieces of pale blue-green ice. They've got a determined set to them, like the rest of him. He looks older than twenty--- tough, cool, and smart. He would be real handsome if his eyes weren't so cold.
Soda is handsomer than anyone else I know. Not like Darry--- Soda's movie-star kind of handsome, the kind that people stop on the street to watch go by. He's not as tall as Darry, and he's a little slimmer, but he has a finely drawn, sensitive face that somehow manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time.
Soda merely cocked one eyebrow, a trick he'd picked up from Two-Bit.
“I'd just as soon tease a full-grown grizzly” (The biggest and best reach of all.)
They came running toward us now--- four lean, hard guys. (They were hard, guys.)
Steve Randle was seventeen, tall and lean, with thick greasy hair he kept combed in complicated swirls. He was cocky, smart, and Soda's best buddy since grade school.
(The entire description of Dally that lasts three paragraphs.)
If it hadn't been for the gang, Johnny would never have known what love and affection are.
Dallas lit a cigarette and handed it to Johnny. (Historically a queer symbol, just saying.)
Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. "Nice-lookin' bruise you got there, kid." I touched my cheek gingerly. "Really?" Two-Bit nodded sagely. "Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough."
I can understand why Sodapop and Steve get into drag races and fights so much, though--- both of them have too much energy, too much feeling, with no way to blow it off. (Heh.)
In a moment his breathing was light and regular. I turned my head to look at him and in the moonlight he looked like some Greek god come to earth. I wondered how he could stand being so handsome. (Why would you even think that?)
Chapter 2
I felt my ears get hot. Two-Bit or Steve or even Soda would have gone right along with him, just to see if they could embarrass the girls, but that kind of kicks just doesn't appeal to me. I sat there, struck dumb, and Johnny left hastily to get a Coke.
I grinned with pride--- I don't think I look one bit like Soda, but it's not every day I hear Socs telling me they think my brother is a doll.
Dallas scowled for a second. If it had been me, or Two-Bit, or Soda or Steve, or anyone but Johnny, Dally would have flattened him without a moment's hesitation. You just didn't tell Dally Winston what to do… But Johnny was the gang's pet, and Dally just couldn't hit him. He was Dally's pet, too.
It had taken more than nerve for him to say what he'd said to Dally--- Johnny worshiped the ground Dallas walked on, and I had never heard Johnny talk back to anyone, much less his hero.
I looked at Two-Bit admiringly. He sure put things into words good.
"Get Johnny some, too. I'm buyin'," he added as Johnny started to reach into his jeans pocket.
I don't like to go on weekends because then there is usually a bunch of girls down there flirting with Soda--- all kinds of girls, Socs too. I don't care too much for girls yet. Soda says I'll grow out of it. He did. (COME ON.)
I quit worrying about everything and thought about how nice it was to sit with a girl without having to listen to her swear or to beat her off with a club. I knew Johnny liked it, too. He didn't talk to girls much. Once, while Dallas was in reform school, Sylvia had started hanging on to Johnny 32 and sweet talking him and Steve got hold of her and told her if she tried any of her tricks with Johnny he'd personally beat the tar out of her. Then he gave Johnny a lecture on girls and how a sneaking little broad like Sylvia would get him into a lot of trouble. As a result, Johnny never spoke to girls much, but whether that was because he was scared of Steve or because he was shy, I couldn't tell. (Harold, he’s gay.)
Chapter 3
Dally--- wild, cunning Dally-
I looked at their clothes and realized for the first time that evening that all I had was a pair of jeans and Soda's old navy sweat shirt with the sleeves cut short. (Fashion.)
Two-Bit took a long drag on his cigarette, Johnny slouched and hooked his thumbs in his pockets, and I stiffened. (Heh, pt. 2.)
I only wanted to lie on my back under a tree and read a book or draw a picture, and not worry about being jumped or carrying a blade or ending up married to some scatterbrained broad with no sense. (He just wants to deal with normal stuff, not weird stuff like gang violence and women!)
"Shoot," I said, startled out of my misery, "you got the whole gang. Dally didn't slug you tonight 'cause you're the pet. I mean, golly, Johnny, you got the whole gang.
Chapter 4
"You could use a bath, greaser. And a good working over. And we've got all night to do it. Give the kid a bath, David."
Bob, the handsome Soc, was lying there in the moonlight, doubled up and still. (He’s dead, Pony. You don’t need to describe his looks right now.)
I knew Buck, and the only way you could get anything from him was to bully him. I guess that's why Dallas could handle him so easily, although Buck was in his mid-twenties and Dally was seventeen.
He appeared in a few minutes, clad only in a pair of low-cut blue jeans, scratching the hair on his chest. (Fashion, pt. 2)
It would be a miracle if Dally loved anything. The fight for self-preservation had hardened him beyond caring. (IMPORTANT)
"Oh, shoot, kid"--- Dally glanced contemptuously over his shoulder--- "I was in the bedroom." He suddenly stared at me. "Glory, but your ears can get red, Ponyboy."
Dally walked us back to the door, turning off the porch light before we stepped out. "Git goin'!" He messed up Johnny's hair. "Take care, kid," he said softly. (He’s in love. Source: Chapter 10.)
I stretched out and used Johnny's legs for a pillow.
"I'm sorry. Why didn't you wake me up?" "That's okay. I didn't want to wake you up until I had to."
"I guess I look okay now, huh, Johnny?" He was studying me. "You know, you look an awful lot like Sodapop, the way you've got your hair and everything. I mean, except your eyes are green." "They ain't green, they're gray," I said, reddening. "And I look about as much like Soda as you do." I got to my feet. "He's good-looking." "Shoot," Johnny said with a grin, "you are, too."
Chapter 5
I pushed off Johnny's jeans jacket, which had somehow got thrown across me…
I propped myself on my elbows and grinned up at him. "Hey, Johnny. Fancy meetin' you here." He looked down at me over a big package. "I swear, Ponyboy, you're gettin' to act more like Two-Bit every day." I tried unsuccessfully to cock an eyebrow. "Who's acting?" ( ಠ◡ಠ )
"A paperback copy of Gone with the Wind! How'd you know I always wanted one?" Johnny reddened. "I remembered you sayin' something about it once. And me and you went to see that movie, 'member? I thought you could maybe read it out loud and help kill time or something."
"Things have been happening so fast..." I put my arm across his shoulders to warm him up
He slumped down beside me. "I didn't mean it like that, Ponyboy. Don't cry, Pony, we'll be okay. Don't cry..." I leaned against him and bawled until I went to sleep.
I woke up late that night. Johnny was resting against the wall and I was asleep on his shoulder.
That was the first time I realized the extent of Johnny's hero-worship for Dally Winston. Of all of us, Dally was the one I liked least. He didn't have Soda's understanding or dash, or Two-Bit's humor, or even Darry's superman qualities. But I realized that these three appealed to me because they were like the heroes in the novels I read. Dally was real. I liked my books and clouds and sunsets. Dally was so real he scared me.
One morning I woke up earlier than usual. Johnny and I slept huddled together for warmth
"You know," Johnny said slowly, "I never noticed colors and clouds and stuff until you kept reminding me about them. It seems like they were never there before." (Literally a cliché from every Disney movie ever made.)
Johnny shrugged. "Yeah," he said with a sigh. "I guess we're different." (!!!)
"Hey, Ponyboy!" He grinned down at me. "Or should I say Sleeping Beauty?"
Chapter 6
"Johnny," Dally said in a a pleading, high voice, using a tone I had never heard from him before, "Johnny, I ain't mad at you. I just don't want you to get hurt. You don't know what a few months in jail can do to you. Oh, blast it, Johnny"--- he pushed his white-blond hair back out of his eyes--- "you get hardened in jail. I don't want that to happen to you. Like it happened to me..."
Chapter 7
Darry and Sodapop were in the pictures too; Jerry Wood told me that if Sodapop and Darry hadn't been so good-looking, they wouldn't have taken so many. That was public appeal, he said. (Everyone has a hard-on for Darry and Soda.)
They slammed the door, of course, and Two-Bit came running into the kitchen. He caught me by the upper arms and swung me around, ignoring the fact that I had two uncooked eggs in my hand.
"Hate to tell you, buddy," Steve said, still flat on the floor, "but you have to wear clothes to work. There's a law or something."
Steve followed him and in a second there was the general racket of a pillow fight. (Why would you follow your naked friend into his bedroom?)
Chapter 8
"Tuff enough," he managed, and by the way his eyes were glowing, I figured Southern gentlemen had nothing on Johnny Cade.
I knew Johnny understood what I meant. We had always been close buddies, and those lonely days in the church strengthened our friendship.
Chapter 9
Darry had on a tight black T-shirt that showed every muscle on his chest and even the flat hard muscles of his stomach. (Fashion, pt. 3.)
"Welup," Two-Bit said cheerfully, cocking an eyebrow, "I see we are in prime condition for a rumble…
“That big guy with y'all, you know him pretty well?"
Then Paul said, "I'll take you," and something like a smile crossed Darry's face. I knew Darry had thought he could take Paul any time. (I bet he could…)
Steve lay doubled up and groaning about ten feet from me. We found out later he had three broken ribs. Sodapop was beside him, talking in a low steady voice.
Several people yelled at us, I think because we were pretty racked-up looking, but Dally had nothing on his mind except Johnny…
Johnny's eyes glowed. Dally was proud of him. That was all Johnny had ever wanted.
Dally swallowed and reached over to push Johnny's hair back. "Never could keep that hair back... that's what you get for tryin' to help people, you little punk, that's what you get..."
"Damnit, Johnny..." he begged, slamming one fist against the wall, hammering it to make it obey his will. "Oh, damnit, Johnny, don't die, please don't die..." He suddenly bolted through the door and down the hall.
Chapter 10
How can I take it? I wondered. Dally is tougher than I am. Why can I take it when Dally can't? And then I knew. Johnny was the only thing Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone.
Steve stumbled forward with a sob, but Soda caught him by the shoulders. "Easy, buddy, easy," I heard him say softly, "there's nothing we can do now."
Chapter 11
Yeah, he was good-looking even then, with a grin that reminded me of Soda's, a kind of reckless grin. He had been a handsome black-haired boy with dark eyes--- maybe brown, like Soda's, maybe darkblue, like the Shepard boys'. Maybe he'd had black eyes. Like Johnny. I had never given Bob much thought--- I hadn't had time to think. But that day I wondered about him.
I knew he liked to pick fights, had the usual Soc belief that living on the West Side made you Mr. Super-Tuff, looked good in dark wine-colored sweaters, and was proud of his rings.
Chapter 12
You know a guy a long time, and I mean really know him, you don't get used to the idea that he's dead just overnight. Johnny was something more than a buddy to all of us.
It was too vast a problem to be just a personal thing. There should be some help, someone should tell them before it was too late. Someone should tell their side of the story, and maybe people would understand then and wouldn't be so quick to judge a boy by the amount of hair oil he wore. It was important to me.
ice---queen replied to your post “Me: I need to stop with these shitty aus. No one wants to hear about...”
okay but I absolutely do want to hear about this
I haven’t really thought it out entirely yet, because I haven’t finished the show, but I’m kind of thinking just an au based on Black Sails and not a perfectly aligned one. So here’s kind of what I got:
Nathaniel Hawthorne is a custom’s agent up at the Port of Boston. His family has a very dark reputation, but also a great deal of power even now (the Salem Witch Trials will do that to a family), and he’s doing all he can to distance himself from that legacy. All he wants is to do his job without too much trouble and maybe have the chance to write a book. Now being a custom’s official in the early 18th century is not exactly the best job in the world, especially owing to the pirate problem on the high seas. It’s hard enough trying to be fair to angry merchants, pirates are an even worse issue. He’s already run into some trouble and he already has a reputation as an honest man. Honest men don’t last long in this business. But hey, he’s in Boston. The Caribbean is a lifetime away...
Herman Melville is a rough and tumble sailor from New York City who joined up with the Navy in his early teens and rose through the ranks relatively quickly. His reputation is concerning, however, because he’s hot headed and a bit of a danger to those who cross him. There’s even rumors that he led a mutiny against the captain of his vessel once, but it’s never been proved and is probably just a myth. (It isn’t.) With the increased tensions between England, Spain, and the Pirates of Nassau, the empires are in all out war, and Melville has been given a brief assignment in Boston to help protect the merchant business on the coast and make sure Massachusetts Bay is safe from piracy.
While there, he finds it necessary to check the shipping records in and out of Boston Harbor, and that’s what brings him to Hawthorne for the first time. Hawthorne is happy to assist, though he feels the Navy isn’t actually doing anything to tackle the root cause of the problem- and tells him as much. Herman is shocked to hear this, because as far as he was concerned hanging pirates and traitors was a perfectly fitting solution to these issues. Hawthorne gets rather uncomfortable at that, and points out how easy it is to turn anyone into a traitor and enemy to justify truly atrocious acts. He’s adamant that there has to be a better way, that justice can somehow prevail if the crown would just let it. He has a lot of ideas, and shares them over the following weeks and months.
Herman finds this... cute, but unrealistic. He’s seen too much cruelty and injustice in the world to believe that justice stands a chance. But then again.... so did Nathaniel. And that absolutely baffles Herman. He doesn’t understand... doesn’t want to understand... the blind optimism and faith his friend seems to have in the world. Until one day, Nathaniel breaks through. Herman sees it- sees a future better than the reality they have, and maybe just maybe that dream can come true.
Somewhere along the way, the two fall in love. Maybe Herman was in love from the start.
At some point, it all comes crashing down. They get found out, but it gets brushed under the rug. The Hathorne’s are a powerful family, after all. Herman loses his command and the love of his life. Nathaniel is taken away and hasn’t been heard from since. No one knows what happened. Some say he’s trapped in Castle William, down in the dungeons. Some say he was ferried off to London. Sophia and Herman run off- I don’t know if she was just engaged to Nathaniel or actually married to him- but she is far too amazing a woman to be left out of this narrative. They both protect and care for each other, and both vow to destroy the thing that destroyed their lives.
Herman becomes one of the most feared pirates on the high seas. Oliver Holmes is his quartermaster, and Sophia is his first mate.
His main rival is daring Captain Sam Howe, who has gotten himself in hotter water than usual for kidnapping the Governor Sumner’s son, Charles or something, but that’s another story for another day....
For sleepover Saturday , what are you most excited about doing in Disney World??? What's your favorite Disney World Park??? Do you have a favorite restaurant to eat at in Disney World??? (my favorite place to eat is Via Napoli in EPCOT, if you haven't been there I 100% recommend it!)
I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN.
I’m honestly most excited about the fact that this is gonna be a Beauty and the Beast-centric trip. We’re gonna eat dinner at Be Our Guest, and we’re gonna go see the movie itself the day it comes out! Like, it wasn’t even the original plan, but it worked out so perfectly it’s accidentally become the theme of the trip and I cannot wait.
My favorite park has always and will always be Magic Kingdom. I love it more than life itself. I love all the parks, but it’s the most magical to me, and has the most happy memories.
Restaurant?
So my favorite sit down restaurant has to be Be Our Guest. That is probably #1 for me, just because.... it’s me. I can’t pass up anything relating to this movie. But a very close second would have to be the Sci-Fi diner in Hollywood Studios. It’s every weird aesthetic I love wrapped into one weird restaurant, and it has really good milkshakes too.
Now for quick service restaurant (oh yeah, I’m going there): Probably the one in Liberty Square. It reminds me of home, ironically, but much more fun and magical.
I do absolutely love Via Napoli, though, and that’s one of the places we plan on eating when we’re down there. It’s gonna be great.
On Tuesday morning October 26, 1858 at twenty two minutes of 2 o’clock perished of a sudden and unpleasant disease the old Massachusetts pump. Nothing has been handed down to us of the exact age of this remarkable inhabitant, but it is to be conjectured that for many years it has stood ready to supply the needy with the best of water, and always acting the part of a good & worthy citisen. But I am sorry to say that of late it has greatly deteriorated. Whether disgusted by the impertinent behavior of the present Freshman class, or with some of the arbitrary decrees of the Faculty I know not, but it is a known fact that for the last few months it had joined hands with a neighboring drain & at the time of its decease had become an intolerable nuisance.
Such, my friends, is the short brief notice the world at large gives to our departed friends. Well do I remember the morn when the pump was unceremoniously ousted from its foundations & sent sky-ward. “The night was cold, I may say, extremely cold.”
The soft, sweet, balmy odours of the Rumfords had gradually been wafted to other climes, and the wearied students, half deadened with chlorine, had fallen into babe-like slumbers. The college Police-force had crept shivering to their respective shelters. Gurney, kind, good, gentlemanly Mr. Gurney had gone to his couch and to his dreams. Sleep on, good man, sleep on! The savage mother of loves& her attendant train are watching o’er you. Falerman, Lesbian & Gaicuban wait but thy nod. Sleep on! No students groan shall ever meet thy ears!
Johnny & Abbott had gone to for different dreams. Like Richard at Bosworth Field they could not sleep. The ghosts of murdered Freshman, and despairing Sophomores stood threatening around their couches. Sleep on, sweet combinations of Sulphurated Hydrogen, sleep on! Deeply absorbed in Chemical studies I had allowed the hours to slip quickly by when suddenly I was aroused by the slight noise outside the buildings. Going to the window I became against my will a witness to the destruction of the ill-fated pump. Gathered around the devoted victim, soon to accomplish their horrid purpose, stood a band of desperadoes.
Five in number, short in stature, with murderous and villainous countenances well adapted to their work. The torch was inserted and our ugly-looking friends started- so also did the pump- at first on a straight line for the comet; but such was not the will of the Gods, and the pump descended and disappeared, as I think, into Hades.
Poor Friend! A different lot is yours. Not a whit care you whether the Union exists, or is dissolved; nor do you seek popularity among the women by giving your support to their rights. Government may give its fostering care to the worst of vices & you will be none the wiser.
Let us give a glace at our friend’s new home- hundreds and hundreds of little cupids, he & she devils, are rushing through the entries of Tartarus with their water buckets. The pump is overflowing with joy and excitement- around it is gathered the family of the unfortunate Ulysses. Wise Telemachus is engaged in pumping. Fond Penelope is drinking from the spout- some little devil or other gives her a shove & she imbibes freely- Restrain yourself, Penelope! Don’t get mad, I’ve had that same trick played on me in old Harvard! Let us give one more look, before we go.
What couple is this carousing on the grass. Jupiter & Mercury are mixing their toddy with your waters, old pump- O Tempora! O Mores!
Yon, who has spout has deluged many a Freshman’s soft head- you, whose waters have been imbibed by the autocrat and by host of other learned & eminent men. You, who were consecrated to learning and refinement, how deep in infamy, you must be fallen to thus demoralize yourself.
But, gentlemen, I will no long detain you in such an unpleasant neighborhood, lest you should suspect me of a too intimate acquaintance with its inhabitants. You all know the excitement which existed during the forenoon after the melancholy affair. Even Seniors deigned to cast their majestic eyes o’er the chaotic scene- and the Juniors openly & nobly expressed their admiration, with a gentle hint that it must have been done by ’60. The Sophomores however smiled significantly & modestly [illeg] to each other.
Of course it took the Freshmen some time to get the whole affair through their heads, and to this day it is a source of wonder to some of their non-expansive brains what convulsion of the earth could have destroyed the pump. My friends! You, who wrote sensible and heart feeling themes on “Trains of thought, which occur to various minds on hearing of fearful casualties”. You who so eloquently described the burning “Austria”, as to bring watery tears even from the usually dry Stubby- and last you gentlemen, illustrious by your imaginative qualities, who, after writing four pages of what you considered the best of matter, were tersely told that the first of three pages & a half were totally irrelevant to the subject; Let me ask you, my friends, what were your feelings on contemplating the ruins of the pump?
A few “to be or not to be’s”, still fewer tear drops were your only tribute to the good qualities of our lamented friend. With a bible in one hand, and your text book in the other, you still go whistling up the weary path, which guides to proficiency in Anglo-Saxon- your beloved instructors makes funny and severe remarks about whistling ragamuffins and rowdy newsboys, but still heartless & forgetful of the pump, you whistle onward.
A new pump, at the suggestion of the faculty, and at the expense of the students, has been founded. The late ruins have been removed- our tears dried, and the world wags on in its old course. But whatever may happen, whether pumps for the better, or the worse may follow, I am certain that the old pump, around which we gathered on that warm examination day as guiless & harmless sub-Freshmen, met claim its first share in the happy thoughts of our bygone pleasures.
Good bye, old pump, good bye!
Eulogy for the Massachusetts Hall Dorm Water Pump, by Sophomore Student Norwood Penrose Hallowell [transcribed from the original at the Mass Historical Society]
