Disclaimer I do not own TMNT or its characters. I am only using them for fun.
Donatello could honestly say that he had never come across a more perplexing problem in all of his days.
It should have been simple. It was simple as far as he knew.
He'd done everything right... or so he thought.
The stool was there. The bucket was there. He had plunked himself down and worked methodically, but with zero results.
Don had always believed that you could solve any problem with patience, but the forty plus fruitless minutes he had spent in this smelly barn were making him seriously doubt the infallibility of that opinion.
And the cow certainly didn't have the same degree of resolution that he did.
He wrinkled his beak in distaste at the stench that wafted from the stall on his right.
He could hear the cluck of happy hens and Mikey 's idiotic responses of, "Here chickey, chickey!" and then ridiculous imitations of a hen's crackle that sounded more like the squawk of a parrot that was being strangled.
He rolled his eyes.
He was doing no better in here.
He turned back to his task, feeling inner resignation to the fact that he was stuck here, when a slap to his cheek made him reel back slightly as he realized the cow's tail had just smacked him.
"I am not a fly!" he hissed indignantly, bringing a hand to the throbbing flesh and resettling himself on the stool.
Her expression normally so peaceful and lazy, the cow (Bessie? Bossy? Wasn't that what cows were always named? Whatever. He never could remember the name.) now turned her head to glare at him with one eye, as if telling him to get it over with already.
"I'm trying. I'm trying," he muttered, steeling himself as he leaned against the warm and itchy hide, preparing for another try.
Nothing. Why was this so hard?
Hissing in annoyance, he wiped away the beads of perspiration that had formed like little raindrops lining his forehead.
In part, his pride was at stake here.
He, Donatello, mutant turtle, ninja, third son of Master Splinter, could execute some of the most complicated moves in ninjitsu (though not in the same way and to the same extent that Leo could) and defuse a nuclear bomb without so much a breaking a sweat (well… perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration), yet this task, this simple, menial task, performed throughout the ages by humble human farmers, was defeating him.
It frankly could not be allowed.
The angry moo should have warned him something was coming, but he was too busy concentrating on the empty pail by his knees.
Before Donatello could so much as move, the cow's hind leg shot out hitting him square in the center of his plastron. All the breath was forced out of him in an oof! and he found himself staring up at the beams in the barn's ceiling. Funny, he didn't even remember the trip there.
Putting a hand over the sore spot, he forced himself to sit up, thankful for the mounds of musty straw that had never been raked up, and glared wrathfully at the defiant creature still standing placidly a few feet away.
Donnie was not one to lose his temper like Raphael, but he had been bested by this cow one too many times. Unfortunately, he was not as well practiced in the art of scathing comebacks as say Raph, or even Mikey. What wound up coming out of his mouth was, "You-you…hamburger!" Well, that was so lame he could have facepalmed. Was that seriously what he had just said?
A snort of laughter behind him followed this remark and he turned, full prepared to show this fellow the wrath of Donatello.
"Hamburger? Seriously, dude, is that the best you could come up with?" his orange-masked brother asked, clutching his stomach and doubling over with the laughter that threatened to consume him. Donnie glowered darkly.
"Very funny, Mikey, but aren't you supposed to be with the hens?" he demanded, standing up and shooting daggers at the cow who merely looked at him with those soft brown eyes that seemed to plead innocent until proven guilty.
Instantly, Mikey was plastered to her side, wrapping his arms around the velvety soft neck. "Awww, how you could call her hamburger?" he demanded. He hugged tighter. "Look into her eyes," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They hold the very meaning of innocence." The cow's tail flicked, insolently it seemed, at a fly. Donnie frowned at him and Mikey straightened brightly.
"What's that?" he cupped his hand to his ear and pretended to listen for a mere second. "I think I hear the chickens calling me!" Laughing in that annoying way of his, he skipped past Donatello and out of the barn.
Don grit his teeth and considered grabbing the pail, right-siding the upturned stool and going back for round… what was it now? He mentally counted. Um, round three? Three failed tries in forty minutes.
He let out a sigh that passed between clenched teeth, making it sound like he was trying to whistle and failing to succeed.
"Having a rough day?" Don spun at the sound of the new voice that spoke up from behind him. He relaxed slightly when he saw that it was only April.
"Oh," he muttered, still not feeling capable of mustering a cheerful tone, "hey, April."
He was slightly annoyed when a small grin molded itself onto April's face. "I see Daphne's been giving you some trouble." Her eyes traveled to the haughty cow and lit up with amusement.
Donnie looked weakly at the cow. "I thought it was Bossy," he confessed, rubbing the back of his head. April laughed again. Probably because "Bossy" was such a stereotypical cow's name.
"Donnie, you're seriously the smartest guy I've ever met and you can't even figure out how to milk a cow." April smiled and her eyes showed a glint of gentle amusement.
"Well, I've ever exactly had the opportunity before now." Donnie squinted as he right sided the stool and prepared for another try. As he did so, he looked at April from the corner of his eye. "Sure there's no… machinery or anything I can fix? At least I know I can do that."
April's eyebrow went up, but she answered, "There's an old truck, though I don't think we'll need it. Would that work for you?"
Donnie smiled tiredly, giving one last look at Daphne. He was done. "Yeah, I think that would work just fine."
A/N Okay, I feel like this is sort of a ridiculous little plot bunny thing that I had to write (In part because I couldn't get the scene out of my head) but I hope it's worth reading. I think this was also partly inspired by my own experience trying to milk my neighbor's cow when I was six or seven.