I do not claim or own any of the characters within this little one-shot, nor do I own Google's Doodle for the day. I do own this plot, however.
A small, black arachnid meticulously made its way across a giant, stone gorge –unaware of the magnificent eyes above it – and paused to rub its feet together. Unfortunately, in its moment of vanity, it was smothered by a large, black shadow that squeezed every living essence out of it, making a juicy paste along the stone path.
Raphael removed his brother's glossy comic book from the tiny groove in the wall, and snorted at the bloody mess on the cover. Stupid bug, he thought as he flung the magazine out of sight and out of mind. He had only seen the spider moments before it had stopped in its tracks to - according to his interpretation - polish off its gleaming legs which were marked by honorable yellow stripes, and in so doing, he grabbed the nearest object within reach of his burly hands to crush the unsightly monster.
"Was that one of my books?" Donatello asked from atop his sacred pedestal; a blackened-blue, chewed-out office chair that sat at the very heart of his 'lab'. It was needless to say that his so-called 'lab' was more accurately, a corner in the Lair which their Sensei had specifically outlined for the gifted terrapin. His shell - intriguingly designed with fingerprint-like patterns and scars - was facing Raphael, making it impossible for the red-masked turtle to see the expression on his face when he had asked the question.
In reply, the less dormant brother, turned his gaze upon his purple-masked sibling, and grunted incoherently without granting him any consolation on the matter of the book. "Was just a poisonous spider," he explained nonchalantly, hiding whatever face he thought he had lost in that nanosecond moment of true fear. The back of Donatello's head remained facing him so the red-masked turtle began wondering if his brother truly cared at all about the book, or the fact that he'd just killed a poisonous spider in their home or about the urgent situation he had been trying to tell him about just before that.
"I didn't ask you that," the turtle in question grumbled in irritation; still focused on whatever it was on his PC monitor. "Would it kill you to-" Donatello began, but was cut off by the impatient one.
"Anyway, Don, like I was telling you before; I couldn't remember how to deactivate the device tonight, when, all of a sudden, those other shitheads showed up, and busted in on the soirée, interrupting me!" Raphael waved his hands for dramatic emphasis, ignorant to the fact that the Genius couldn't see them, and he continued with his rant in complete disregard for the lack of attention he was given, "To make matters even worse; that overly, challenged brother of yours messed with the thing some more, and made it go into some kind of sleeper mode, right before those assholes took off with it! Now they're running all over town with a sleeping time bomb that could go off at any moment once it awakens!"
He wasn't sure if Donatello had heard him in his very, loud outburst, because the inventor, in the slightest, never budged at the sound of any of his words. Maybe he was just tired of us and all this crap we go through day in, and day out. Heck, even I get tired of it too, Raphael scowled at the thought that wandered through his laden mind, and dropped a heavy hand on Donatello's shoulder to catch his attention. Suddenly, the purple-masked turtle's head whipped around, startling him. It wasn't the action that made him retreat his hand like he was suddenly scorched by a hot knife, but the shocking, angered look on his brother's countenance.
"What is wrong with you?" Donatello snapped, quickly turning his devotion back to his computer. "Don't you know what today is?"
The hotheaded turtle's eyes widened in surprise; and his face took on a bitter darkness in distaste of the remark, "What! What is wrong with me!" he spat back, coldly. "What the hell is wrong with you!" he pointed at the back of his brother's suddenly small-minded head. "I'm here telling you about a bomb that's about to-"
"Today," the generally calm turtle's voice blared back at him with an equal timbre, cutting off his sentence, "Would have been Alan Turing's 100th birthday, and Google," he viciously stabbed his finger at his PC monitor where it displayed – in Raphael's opinion - a funny looking instrument that had a series of zeroes and ones, with little circles beneath them, "has put up their Google Doodle of a theoretical Turing Machine which I am trying to program! So who cares about a stupid bomb that you lost!" The veins in his forehead were raised and pulsing under his sheen, green skin, and his teeth were set to grind whatever existed between them. All of which, gave him the craziest, psychopathic look Raph had ever seen.
Dumbstruck by the rare, passionate outpouring, Raphael remained motionless and voiceless for a few moments, before his sibling took a deep, calming breath of stale, pungent air, and spun back to the screen to punch a single key, "There, I've finally completed all the levels. Piece of cake," Donatello's smug face whirled back into the view of his red-masked brother's eyes. "Was there something you wanted to tell me, Raph?"
Raphael blinked under the innocent gaze of the other ninja and stuttered, "Uhm…yeah. Lay off the caffeine a little bit, Donny," he hesitated with the answer while he tried to figure out what was going through the purple-masked turtle's brain before continuing, and when he saw that Don's eyes presented no hostility towards him, he went on, "and…er… I used Mikey's comic book to kill that spider, so you don't have to exact revenge on him after I'm done telling you about what happened tonight," Raph smiled warily as the brainy turtle's eyes lit up in pure curiosity.
~End~
I don't know…I somehow like crazy Donatello.