Disclaimer: Don't own it.

I Hate Splinter

Part One

Down in the sewers, below the streets of NYC,
Echoes rang through the passageways.
In a lair hidden from dwellers of the city,
A morning training session was underway.

A ninja master, a rat to be specific,
Stood patiently on the sideline
As his four sons practiced being honorific
In the ways of the ninja and their state of mind.

Four teenage turtles with names of the Renaissance
Fought diligently with fierce concentration,
As they had been taught since their naissance.
All these were skills necessary for preparation.

With a tap of his staff,
Splinter called forward his sons.
He commended them with a laugh,
"Excellent work, you are now done."

Quickly they all dispersed,
Anxious to continue about their days.
Each of one of them was well-rehearsed
Upon how they headed their own ways.

One to Casey's to find a good fight.
Another to his room for peaceful thoughts.
One to the kitchen to satisfy their appetite.
The last to his lab to discover answers to questions he sought.

A cry came from the kitchen!
Such a distressed cry,
Donnie came rushing in as if on a mission
To see what had gone awry.

Alas, poor Michelangelo!
A splinter lodged in his hand.
With tearful eyes and a whimper of woe,
He waited for his brother to understand.

Donatello nodded his head,
And took his little brother's hand in his own.
"Hold still while I look," he comfortingly said.
He closely examined the injury he needed to atone.

With another pitiful sob,
Mikey questioned, "Will it be okay?"
A pat on the head, Don answered, "Let me finish the job."
The purple one left, while the orange one stayed.

A brief moment passed.
With tweezers in tow,
Donatello returned at last,
Ready to remove the little foe.

"How did this happen?" Donnie asked.
Mikey responded, "A wooden spoon."
Understanding, Don prepared for the task.
It would be best to get the splinter out soon.

He sterilized the area;
Mikey only flinched a tad.
As his brother soothed his hysteria,
Donnie tried not to make it so bad.

The tweezers squeezed and tugged,
But the splinter came loose.
Mikey felt better and was tightly hugged.
His brother checked to see if his hand was alright from the abuse.

As Don bandaged the spot,
Mikey proclaimed, "I hate splinters, yes I do!"
Donnie tied the bandage in a knot,
And his words couldn't be any more true.

But what's this?
Around the corner a soft gasp flew.
Master Splinter has heard this supposed dis.
For what he heard was, "I hate Splinter, yes I do."

Quickly returning to his room,
His heart felt a sting.
Splinter can't understand or presume,
Why his youngest would say such a thing.

He was hated; could it be true?
Did all his sons feel this way?
What exactly did he do?
If so, why did they stay?

With a heavy heart,
Splinter tried to think happy thoughts.
A tear slid down his cheek for this burden he had to cart
But all positive things from his mind were fought.

A/N: I know, I know. But it's meant to be silly/sing-song. Don't judge my rhymes too harshly. ahaha