This little ficcie came to be by request of rosypen, as a carry-on to my one-shot Say It – you can check that one out too, or this can stand alone. I should probably mention, anyone who is upset by swearing, anger, abuse or depression should stop reading now, I have no idea yet how bad my ugly little mind can be.

Just remember I do lighter stuff too.

Disclaimer: Just like everyone else on here, I don't own them. I'd fear for the world if I did.

…Because the Joker is the card that everyone leaves out…

"MIKEY!"

My eyes shot open. So much for my wonderful dream about going into space – Raph was angry, and as per usual, nothing else mattered. What's the most fun you've had in ages against another wondrous day of getting yelled at?

I rolled out of bed and headed to the kitchen. Raph was standing by the table, beer in hand, angry face on. To be honest, I can't remember the last time I saw him take it off. "Yer supposed to be makin' breakfast, remember?"

"Aye-aye, cap'n."

"Shut it." Raph made his way to the TV while I opened the fridge. I heard the sound of some wrestling show blaring away. I would've loved to watch, but I had to cook.

There was a short pause. I rifled through our cupboards. Raph shouted insults at one of the wrestlers. Klunk wandered in, and then wandered out again when he realised no-one was going to feed him. The short pause morphed into a long silence.

"How 'bout pancakes?"
"Whatever."

The gap in the conversation yawned. I shifted awkwardly.

"Or I could do cheese toasties or something." I switched my voice to Tease mode. "Or I could do little toast soldiers for the captain."

Something heavy smashed into the wall a foot from my head. "Ha! You missed!"

"Next time I won't."

"Aw, come on. Why do I have to cook?"

"Because you're the only one who can cook."

I held my breath. Was that an actual compliment?

"I mean, Don can't deal with stuff that doesn't have wires comin' out, Leo's allergic to microwaves, and me…" Raph waved the arm that held the beer, sloshing evil-smelling brown liquid over the sofa. Guess who was going to have clear that up? It starts with M and it rhymes with spiky. "I just can't be arsed."

I sighed. For one second there, I had actually believed he was being nice to me. My mistake.

"Plus it's the only thing you're good at."

I nearly threw a frying pan at his head. Rage gushed up inside me like thick, black bile, but I forced it down, and cranked my Tease mode up to eleven. "No dude, you need me."
"Do not."
"Do so. Admit it, if anything happened to me, you'd be lost. Nobody to cook you breakfast, nobody to beat you at videogames, nobody to fix your mirror…"
"My mirror?"

"Yeah! I mean, it breaks every time you look at it."

"Fuck off. We don't need you." Raph lifted the bottle to his mouth, realised it was empty, and threw it at my head. I ducked. "Clean that up, would ya?"

I sloped over to a cupboard, grabbed a dustpan and brush, and started sweeping up the shattered remnants of Raph's beer bottle.

"If you were dead, things would be a helluva lot easier around here." Raph called over my shoulder, and turned back to the TV.

I bent over the shards of glass, and then gasped at the stabbing pain in my foot. Lifting my leg up, I saw an inch-long sliver of glass sticking out of my heel. Droplets of dark blood slowly slithered down its length, to splash onto the cold floor. "Believe me, dude," I muttered under my breath, "It'd be easier for me, too."

You were warned… More reviews equal faster updates. Flames equal me and my friends sending you hateful PMs for a week.