The Dilemma

Hello, everyone. Sorry it's been a while since I've posted anything. Lots of crazy personal things going on in my life that sucked out my creativity. So after sorting out things and taking rest I'm back. So read and enjoy. ; )

Disclaimer: Don't own TMNT.

The sound of splashing water echoed off the sewer tunnels as the turtle ran through the murky water. His heart pounded so fierce that he thought for a moment he was having a heart attack. The devilish grin spread across his face as he pushed the idiotic idea aside.

There it was. Right there. The entrance to his home.

He hunched over shoving his shoulder hard against the door. Finally it groaned in protest as it swung open. Suddenly three sets of eyes turned in his direction looking concerned and startled.

"What?" Raphael asked while trying to catch his breath. He quickly wiped off the sweat from his forehead and slung his trench coat to the floor. He hurried into the living room and jumped over the worn out couch. Michelangelo sat on one side shoving handful of popcorn into his mouth. Donatello was busy tinkering with another one of his gadgets.

"Hey, man," Michelangelo whined as Raphael stole a handful of popcorn from his bowl. "Get your own."

Raphael chuckled. "So what I miss?"

"Everything," Michelangelo muffed while he took a large swig of his soda. "They just finished announcing the baseball lineup for the season just as you tried to finish off the door. The game's fixing to start."

"Hardy har har," Raphael mocked. "Damn. Well what was the lineup?"

Donatello snickered as he concentrated on the little gadget in his lap. Raphael pinched his brow trying to figure out the joke.

"Well, Raphie boy," Michelangelo gritted his teeth together. "It's a really great lineup. Probably one of the best we've had in a while but there's just a small problem. See their names were really hard to pronounce so they came up with some 'different' nicknames."

Raphael rolled his eyes at Mikey's air quotes. "Okay, okay, just tell me already."

Michelangelo shrugged his shoulders. "All right, well, Who's on first, What's on second, I-Don't-Know's on third base."

Raphael shook his head. "What? What the hell are you talking about?."

"Uh, baseball team."

Raphael blew out a huff of air. "Okay, who's on first?"

Michelangelo nodded his head. "Yeah that's right."

"What's right?"

"Who's on first."

"That's what I just asked you."

Mikey shrugged his shoulder. "And I just told you." Raphael's finger darted at the baseball game on the television. "Mikey, stop being a dumbass. Who's the guy playing first base?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"What's right?"

"Who's playing on first base."

A flash of irritation washed over the red clad turtle as he rubbed his eyes. "Why the fuck are you asking me for? Hell if I know. I busted my ass from Casey's so I could catch the game. All I want to know is the name of the first baseman."

"I just told you who's on first."

"Stop asking that damn question."

"Dude, I'm not asking. I'm telling you who is on first."

"Who's on first?"

Michelangelo growled in frustration as he put the bowl on the table. "That's the man's name, Raphie."

Raphael stared hard. "That's who's name?"

"Yes."

Raphael growled and ran his fingers over his bald head. There had to be an easier tactic than this. "Okay you know at the beginning of the game they show the players' names at the bottom of the screen."

"Yeah and?"

"Well they show the players' name along with their pictures, right? So when they showed the first baseman's picture, what was the name of the first baseman?"

Leonardo looked over the top of the newspaper. "No, he's on second."

Raphael shifted his eyes to his oldest brother. "Who's on second?"

Leonardo shook his head. "No, he's on first base. What's on second." Another loud growl escaped from Raph's lips. "Not you too, Leo. I don't know the second baseman's name."

"No. He's on third base and What's on second."

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm not asking you who's on second base."

"Who's on first!" Michelangelo excited throwing his hands in the air. Raphael clenched his jaw tight as a dull pain began to pulse at the base of his head. "Okay, fine then. Do they have at least have a good outfield?"

"Of course," Michelangelo said looking at the kennels that rolled at the bottom of the bowl.

Finally. Enough of this bullshit, Raph thought.

"Okay." The headache subsided. "Tell me the left fielder's name."

"Why," Donatello answered. Raphael muttered under his breath. "I don't know. Figured I'd ask."

"And I just answered you."

"Then who's playing the left field?"

Donatello's brow rose up an inch. "No," he said softly as he returned to his project. "Mikey told you Who plays first base."

"I don't know who's on first base." Raphael's cheeks flared to a deep scarlet. His headache became worse.

Michelangelo shook his head. "No, man. He's on third base." Seeing his bowl empty, Mikey jumped to his feet and headed back to the kitchen.

Raphael felt the pain in his head throbbing worse than ever. What the hell was wrong with these guys? If they were trying to screw around with him, they picked the wrong day to do it. Finally Raph hopped off the couch and turned to his two remaining brothers.

"Okay, let's try this again. All I want to know is the players' name. It's that simple. Just tell me the left fielder's name. Can you do that please?"

Leonardo folded the newspaper into his lap and folded his hands together. "Sure we can. Why the left field." He tried not to chuckle as he spotted a large vein popping out his hot tempered brother's forehead. Raphael's hands shook by his side. "Because."

"Nope he's in center field," Michelangelo's voice boomed from the kitchen.

"AAAAHHHHH!" Raphael screamed. He grabbed the coffee table and flipped it over to its top. Red filled his vision as his eyes shot to every one of his brothers.

"I don't know what kind of screwed up shit you're trying to play, but I had enough of your crap. All you have to do is tell me what the guys' names are that will be playing on the damn team. It's not that fucking hard. So stop with this game."

Suddenly a loud crack came from the television. All four of the brothers spun around as a baseball player began to run the bases.

"The pitcher catches the ball," the sport caster announced. "He throws it to Who at first base. Who picks up the ball and throws it to What. What throws a hard pitch to I Don't Know. I can't believe it folks. That was the best triple play I've ever seen in the field."

Raphael's jaw dropped open as he recalled the play in his mind. He walked around the couch and headed upstairs. Michelangelo came out with a new bowl of popcorn. "Hey Raph. Where you're going? The game was getting good."

"Shut up, Mikey," he mumbled. "Stupid."

The rest of the brothers snickered as Raphael slammed his bedroom door.

A/N: I forgot to disclaim the dialogue from Abbott and Costello's "Who's on First?" I recommend everyone to listen to the original one. Love y'all. Reviews are always encouraged and welcome.

Here's a link to see it. watch?v=airT-m9LcoY