QUIT KILLING US OFF!!
Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT… I just own my hormones and out-of-control emotions. No slash.
The young fanfiction author stared at her computer screen, reading an interesting story titled 'Crying is NOT an Option'. Hmm… that was inspiring. It gave her an idea. Furthermore, she was able to relate. She was having her own struggle with tears. However, she wasn't a crybaby, she hadn't cried over something little like this since she'd started to toughen up. Crying wasn't an option for her, either. It would only upset her mother, and she really didn't want to do that. She had to stay tough, not let everything get under her skin. No breaking down…
"Geez, just tell me what's wrong, already!"
With a slight gasp, the girl turned around, smoothing her dark hair out of her face. Mikey leaned against the wall, grinning at her.
"Go away, Mikey," she grumbled. "I'm trying to write."
"Oh, really? Well, could you please get a handle on your mood? It's leaking into your imagination, and killing all of us off. Do you always do that when you're in a bad mood?"
"Yeah, so sue me, why don't you?"
"What's a sweetie like you got going on to make you so unhappy?"
An annoying sign popped up when she made a wrong move on her laptop, and she growled in frustration, pounding on the mouse button.
"Whoa, cool it!" Mikey yelped as a wind only real to him knocked him on his shell.
"Why the bloody hell should I? My life's gone downhill since the day I began adolescence!"
"Uh, excuse me, Sar, but you're not from England. You're an American, half Hoosier, half Southern!"
"And darn proud of it!"
"Uh, okay…" Mikey backed away and grumbled, "What the heck is with her? I know she hates it when people mock Southerners, but I didn't do anything wrong…"
Sar, feeling remorseful, sighed, "I'm sorry, Mikey. It just feels like my life is ruined."
"Why? Come on, tell me. I may be a figment of some cartoonists' imaginations and a fanfiction character, but maybe I can help."
"You'll laugh, or possibly think I'm a spoiled brat."
"No, I won't."
"Okay… here goes. I got my summer job and my work permit, and I'm a working woman."
"You're unhappy about that? It's cash! Cash of your own!"
"Let me finish. I'm getting laid off. It's my first job!"
"Wow… that stinks."
"That's not all. I feel like I'm totally being neglected, even though I know I'm totally not! I never see my brother anymore, or my sister, and when she's there, well... it's just a struggle to stay in the same room."
"Why?"
"My niece. She's cute as can be, but boy, when she cries... ugh!"
"You're an aunt now, that's nice."
"I'm only a kid, darn it! But because I'm a teenager, everybody dumps me for some stupid baby!"
"You're obviously pretty upset about that. But you have a brother and sister, yet you're acting like an only child."
"My older siblings are, like, over a decade older than me! They haven't lived in the same house with me since I was five or six."
"Wow… that's quite an age gap."
"My dad and his first wife got divorced, and then he met my mom, they fell in love and got married."
"Oh. That explains it. Because your siblings haven't exactly been in the same house with you for most of your life, you're used to having all the attention. No wonder you're not adjusting well. But it's just one baby. Aren't you overreacting a little bit?"
"I've also got some younger cousins. I love them, but I also suffer small bouts of jealousy, which I must endure eternally in silence. Oh, pain!"
"Whoa, melodramatic much? Maybe your parents should have had another kid, so you could get used to this a little more easily."
"Now you sound like Leo. Aren't you the funny one?"
"I am Leo." Mikey's orange bandana vanished, revealing a blue one instead. "Listen, kid. You really need to get a grip on your imagination. You've killed Mikey off twice already."
"Sorry… I'm just sick of being shoved off to the side whenever some little pint-sized twit walks into the room. Why did you impersonate Mikey?"
"I figured you'd respond better to him. The real Mikey is still recovering from a vampire attack."
"Sorry. I was watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer."
"Please quit killing off my brothers. It's getting irritating."
A voice, female this time, came from the girl's closet. "Tell me about it! I've been killed off fifty million times now! Get a grip, already!"
"Shut up, Gwendolyn! I don't need you right now."
"I'm through keeping quiet. Make up your mind already! Do I die, or do I live and marry Legolas?"
"I don't know!"
"Ugh!" A red-haired sixteen year old girl stormed into the room, her blue eyes flashing. "Why? You're my creator, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am, but…"
"But what?!"
"I just like you too much to let you stay dead."
"Ugh, I hate teenage authors! So dramatic and totally crazy!"
"Who are you?" Leo asked.
Gwendolyn responded, "I'm Gwendolyn, this melodramatic author's character. She created me."
Leo turned to the pretty, depressed author sitting in the chair across the rooms from him. "Why do you write about us, then?"
"I'm getting sick of Gwendolyn, that's why."
Gwendolyn grumbled, "Ouch, there's a blow to my ego!"
The author, called Sar, snapped, "Shut up! Or shall I send you back to oblivion?"
"Bite me!"
The author frowned, made eye contact with her angry character, and then smiled somewhat grimly.
Gwendolyn's scream echoed through the room, and she sank to the floor, writhing in agony.
Leo turned to look at Sar, and, horrified, asked, "What did you do to her?"
"Just a shot of Immortalsbane, or at least that's what she thinks. It's really all in her head. I'm just showing her what I could do."
"What's Immortalsbane?"
"A poison I dreamed up. It's the only thing that can kill her."
Gwendolyn stood, gasping, and she looked at her creator angrily. Sar nodded, and the angry redhead disappeared.
"Now, back to our original discussion," she said calmly. "The reason my mom didn't give me a brother or sister was because I spent the first few years of my life in and out of hospitals. By the time I was stable, she was too old."
"Oh. Have you talked to your mom?"
"Yeah. She tells me that I'm not being replaced, that I'll always be her baby. Yeah, right."
"She means it."
"Yeah, I guess. I'm still depressed, though. When I woke up after I turned thirteen, though, it was like everyone hated me. Nothing's the same."
"I'm beginning to get it. You're just growing up. I may be a mutant turtle, but I still know that feeling. We all do. Go ahead and cry if you want, just… please, stop trying to kill us. It's getting too confusing."
"Okay. Thanks, Leo. Is it okay if I call you that?"
"Yeah."
"Thanks. You can go home now and tell your family that they're safe, or atleast until the next time I'm unhappy and I forget."
"Okay. And by the way, can you give me Gwendolyn's number?"
"Sorry. She's taken, and besides, you're probably better off if you forget about her. She's a female version of Raph. Hot-tempered, loves to fight. Legolas is the one who normally gets her to cool off."
"You mean the elf in the Lord of the Rings?"
"Yeah. Now go home. I need to finish this story."
"Okay. Remember, though. Cry if you need to."
"I'll remember."
With that, Leo disappeared, and Sar quit sulking and lamenting the fact that life was unfair.
The End