This is part of a challenge that I'm doing with a friend. She gave me four weird words to incorporate into a story, and I gave her the same. Her word choices for me were: nipple piercings, hotdog bun, Jewish, and amputations. Also posted at my TMNT fanfic archive: Shellshock. Feel free to join, it's quite empty at the moment. Link is under my profile. ;-)
Life's Full Of Pickles
by pirateystripes
xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx
Raphael awoke with a sudden start, his body covered in a cool sweat. He placed a hand shakily over his eyes, and exhaled deeply. It's alright, man, it was just a dream.. just a dream...
Glancing up, he let his eyes gradually adjust to the darkness, and realized he was in his bedroom. His legs were tangled up in his sheet, and at his side lay the newest issue of Playboy, featuring an especially busty woman with double nipple piercings on the cover. He sat up in bed, moodily pushed the magazine onto the floor, and swung his feet over the edge.
Before his feet could touch the floor the 6 o'clock subway car rumbled overhead, roaring loudly and causing the room to shake. "Yeah, yeah, I'm up, okay? Couldn't you be late for once? Christ." For as long as he could remember, the 6 o'clock was never, ever late. It was like having an alarm clock that was destined to go off at the same time every day.
He made his way out of his room and to the balcony that was a floor above the living room area. Bracing himself against the railing, he saw that the place was completely deserted. Mike wasn't home from his latest Cowabunga Carl gig, and Don was absent from his usual place amongst the tangled cords and wires of his computer desk. Even his father's room was dark and silent.
Raphael smiled winningly. It seemed he had the entire place to himself, which was a rare thing when you lived with two brothers and your father. Maybe it was time for the Nightwatcher to have the night off and take advantage of the situation while he was able to. He had only just reached for the t.v. remote, and was about to sit down on the well-worn couch, when the main door slid open and slammed shut with a bang.
"Hey guys, it's Mikey, I'm homeeee!"
"Ya gotta be kiddin' me," grumbled Raphael, dropping the t.v. remote back onto the cluttered coffee table. "Can't a guy get a moment's rest around here?"
"Nice to see you too, Bro," said Michelangelo, tossing his skateboard on the cushion next to Raphael. "So, what's for dinner? I'm starving!"
"I dunno, whatever you want. Do I look like the head cook ta you?"
"Well, where's Donnie then? It's his turn to make something," said Michelangelo, his head disappearing into the open refrigerator door. "What the shell? All that's left in here is half a gallon of milk, some moldy pizza slices, and a single hotdog bun!" He looked up at Raphael accusingly, while nibbling on the hotdog bun. "You ate my hotdogs, dude. Uncool."
"I didn't eat your stupid hotdogs, Mikey. Could ya shut up for 5 minutes, and gimme a freakin' break?" snapped Raphael, reaching for the remote and turning the t.v. on. He flipped the channels moodily for a few seconds before settling on an old Unsolved Mysteries re-run.
"Whoa, somebody got up on the wrong side of the shell this evening," laughed Michelangelo. He plopped onto the couch, causing Raphael to bounce. "So seriously, where's Donnie at?"
Raphael only grumbled in reply, and turned the volume up so that Robert Stack's voice drowned Michelangelo's voice out.
"Whatever." Michelangelo grabbed a bag of Cheetos from the coffee table and started munching loudly. He suddenly started laughing, spraying cheesy crumbs all over the place. "Man, check out the dude with all the amputations! Those aliens are some serious douche bags!"
Raphael gave him a dirty look, and changed the channel, ignoring Michelangelo's groan of protest. Now Ron Popeil was trying to show an excited blonde woman with a fake smile how to dice a carrot properly with his newest Ronco invention. Man, I hate infomercials...
"We need one of those things!" exclaimed Michelangelo, dropping his jaw and the bag of Cheetos in his amazement. "Just imagine all the pizza you could slice with it!"
"The possibilities are endless," said Raphael sarcastically. He sighed and turned the t.v. off. "Dat's it, I'm goin' back ta bed."
"Aw, c'mon Raph, you never spend any time with us since Leo left," whined Michelangelo, latching onto his brother's arm.
Raphael shrugged him off and started heading for his bedroom. "Yeah, well, go look for Leo then. I got better things ta do than baby-sit yous guys."
He was about to start up the stairs to his room when Donatello struggled through the front door. "Hey Raph, good to see you up and about. You want to help me with these grocery bags? Casey was nice enough to pick some stuff up for us, seeing as how somebody forgot to do the shopping yesterday." He shot a withering glare in Michelangelo's general direction.
"Hey, I had a prior birthday-related engagement to attend to. Cowabunga Carl has to appease the masses of party-going youth in the city."
"That was actually an intelligent reply, Mike. I'm impressed."
"Yeah, well, what can I say? I'm more than just a good-lookin' face."
Donatello sighed softly and put the grocery bags down on the kitchen table. Raphael did the same, and then turned to leave. "Aren't you going to help me put this stuff away?"
"Wasn't plannin' on it, to be perfectly honest," said Raphael. He grabbed a jar of pickles from one of the bags and studied the label. "Kosher Dill? What, are we Jewish now?"
"If you don't like them, then you can go out and get your own," snapped Donatello, snatching the jar out of Raphael's hand and slamming it down on the table. "Or maybe you could just start helping us out with some of the responsibilities around here, because I don't see you doing anything but sleeping all day, and staying out all night."
Raphael just stood there for a moment, absorbing the implication in Donatello's words. "Wait a minute, who says I'm stayin' out all night."
Donatello wearily looked over Raphael's shoulder to see if Michelangelo was listening. He was busy watching an episode of The Simpsons with a strange look of concentration on his face. "Look, I know what you're doing at night, Raph. I'm not a fool, and if you're going to continue to take me for one we can just end this conversation right now."
"Just say what ya gotta say, Don. Don't hold back on my account," said Raphael calmly, but with a subtle hint of danger in his tone.
Donatello stood his ground and stared Raphael directly in the eyes, keeping his voice low. "I'm not going to stand here and be bullied by your empty threats Raph, or should I say, Nightwatcher. I don't exactly know what you're trying to prove, or if you're doing it solely because of Leo's decision, but sooner or later this game you're so secretly trying to play is going to drag the rest of us into the mix of things. Maybe you haven't thought this through well enough yet, and don't comprehend the effect of what a single fuck-up on your account could do to the rest of us. So cut the crap and grow-up."
Raphael shook his head slowly, as if in disbelief. "I'm surprised at you, Don. I always thought usin' such foul language was beyond someone of yer intellect." He stepped forward suddenly, getting directly in Donatello's face, and pushed him roughly on his plastron with one finger. "Don't think for a moment that just because you're my brother that my threats are empty. I won't hesitate."
Donatello pushed him back. "You're full of shit, Raph."
"You're gonna wanna watch what you say, little bro, or else something's gonna happen that you won't like," threatened Raphael, pushing him back in return.
Michelangelo suddenly erupted into a fit of laughter, "Oh, man, I can't believe that Bart just said, "Don't have a cow"! That went out with radical and tubular and Vanilla Ice. Hey guys, you gotta see this-" He turned around and immediately noticed the serious expressions on his brother's faces. "Whoa, what's with you two? Are you fightin' about something?"
"PICKLES!" they both yelled at the same time, exchanging murderous glares.
"Oh, did Donnie buy Kosher pickles again? I'm tellin' ya, there's no difference, man! They taste exactly the same as regular pickles!" He looked from Raphael to Donatello and then back to Raphael. "Don't have a cow, dudes!"
Raphael's face relaxed slightly at Michelangelo's innocent solution to a problem he wasn't even aware of. "Geez, Mikey, don't you already have enough cornball catch phrases?"
"No way, Bro. One can always use a few more." He turned back to the t.v., a smile on his face.
Without saying another word, Raphael started putting away the groceries. Donatello watched him in silence, trying to judge exactly what affect his words had on his temperamental brother.
"Look, Donnie, I'm not really mad. You just caught me off guard," explained Raphael, not looking up. "I'd appreciate if you keep what you know to yerself."
"I never planned on telling anyone your secret. I just wanted to make sure you know what you're doing is the right thing. And that you don't forget that your family is still here and we need you more than ever now." He gently touched Raphael's arm, meeting his eyes. "We all love you. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. Don't start gettin' all mushy on me now. I kinda liked yer more authoritative side." He laughed heartily, punching Donatello playfully on the arm. "Boy, I sure was surprised! I was afraid you were 'bout to get into fisticuffs with me."
"Fisti-wah?"
"Never-mind, Don. Just help me finish puttin' these damn groceries away."
Splinter stood quietly watching his two sons share a brotherly moment. "It is good to see you all in the same room together, my sons."
"Hey Father, you should have seen them a few minutes ago. I thought they were gonna go all ninjitsu up in here over some pickles," quipped Mike, and then started laughing at his own joke.
"Pickles?" Splinter's furry brow dipped in confusion. "Did Donatello buy the Kosher ones again?"
"Oh man, I give up! Next time, someone else can buy the pickles."
"Actually, these are pretty good, Donnie. I can really taste the difference."
"Throw one of them pickles over here, dudes!"
"Ewww, you got pickle juice all over me, Mikey! Get back here!"
Splinter smiled inwardly, thankful for a brief lull in the tense household atmosphere. He could only hope that they would learn to work out their differences with each other and have the patience to await Leonardo's return.
The End