Lola S. Cubish
There was the smell of sulphur lurking about when Michaelangelo one day grasped-- and tried to settle on-- the idea that he would probably never find a place in society, and never, ever have a relationship or get involved with a human girl or woman. This, seeing as there were absolutely no female turtles around now, nor the possibility of any, led to frustration, and foremost; deprivation.
It was just by a stroke of luck that Splinter happened upon him in his
room, seconds before he was about to slit his own throat, decreasing the
number of family members to four. The old rat had a helluva time restraining
him, but somehow he managed.
He held Michaelangelo down until the kicking and screaming stopped.
"Gimme the knife! I don't wanna live, dammit! There's no reason to! Just
to suffer another day, down here?! I'm not giving anything-- and I'm not
part of zip! There's no reason..."
The words were still ringing in Splinter's ears as he sat on the floor
in front of Mike, who was securily tied up and fastened to a pole; on his
knees. His master looked at him over his tea cup and let out a small sigh.
The turtle had certainly been careful on picking the right time for his
death; everyone was away, and the sewer was awkwardly quiet.
Splinter had just come back from his lone, peaceful and interesting
journey. There had been no signs whatsoever, no mood swings or anything;
the turtle must've just recently gotten this idea of suicide into his head.
While he was half dragged, half carried across the floor and while
Splinter rolled the rope around his body-- the entire time, his son had
been crying. He hadn't really put up that hard a fight; the rat had a notion
that Mike wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to end his life. He didn't
like seeing Michaelangelo like this, but given the situation, there weren't
other choices.
At least he hadn't gagged him.
"I can't have any kids," Mike said now, quietly, his sobbing suddenly coming to an end.
His father was about to open his mouth, but was not aware of what to
comfort him with, and "We do not know what the future holds, Michaelangelo,"
just didn't seem like something that would help this time, true though
as it was.
He also felt that perhaps what this particular situation called for
was simply listening.
"Maybe I could. I mean, Don says..." he rallied a bit; the rat
lifted his head, hoping for a tiny bit of that old spark returning to his
voice. No such luck. "...heh, what does he know? It's okay in theory, but--
so what if our genes could be compatible?
If the lady doesn't want to, err," he looked up, sort of remembering
just who exactly he was talking to, but his sensei seemed unaffected, "if
she doesn't want to you know... well, then we can sit around here with
our marvellously compatible genes forever, for all the good it does us..."
he made a grimace, "And no adoption agency would never be crazy enough
to hand over any of their kids to us,"
Splinter looked at his clawed hands, lying in his lap. He knew how hard it had to be for someone so young-- especially a teenager-- to come to terms with the idea of never experiencing any of the things that others took for granted.
"People just sorta know that by the time they're-- what, about 40?-- they'll have a spouse, kids, a job, a house, maybe some pets-- be basically good and settled. I dunno, master, it's not that uplifting to know that by the time I'm 40-- if I ever reach that age, that is-- I'll still be wading around in the sewer, with no kids, no wife, maybe a bunch of dead brothers and a dead--" he glanced tentatively at Splinter, "a deceased father, no job, maybe I'll starve, maybe I'll be hunted after, maybe I've lost even the crummy home I had..." He closed his eyes, "I dunno...this must seem like whining to you,"
"No. You have lost your faith, and when one does that, at times one cannot find reasons to live," Splinter said, "Michaelangelo, I do not know if you find this comforting or not, but I hope that you know that we are in need of you. You are our light. We all love you," he stopped, looking straight at Mike, "we do not wish for you to leave this earth prematurely."
Mike nodded, he knew all this, "But sometimes that isn't enough, master," he replied.
"I know that as well," said his father, lacking further advice. He loved his sons, and if he could, he would have provided them-- to a reasonable degree-- with the things that would make them happy. But there just wasn't any way that he could!
Mike's smile was tired, "Who knew I'd grow up to be such a cynic, huh?"
Splinter returned the smile, just to cheer him up, even though he felt it to be futile. "Michaelangelo," he ventured, placing down his cup of tea that had now gone cold, and standing up, "if I untie you, will you promise not to do anything hasty?"
Mike nodded solemnly, "Yes, father. I promise." Splinter's eyes prodded his closely for a while, then he let his breath go.
"Very well," he agreed, and a minute later, Mike joined him for tea.
A couple of hours later, he agreed to let Michaelangelo step out for
a while.
He felt he should trust him, take him on his word. And hope for the
best. Perhaps if he got some air, he'd feel better...
Naturally, he was concerned about what might happen, but on the other
side, keeping him there would-- in some ways-- not do him any good either.
Sooner or later, he'd be bound to go out. He couldn't keep him there forever.
Waiting down here might cause him only to be further distressed, though
at the same time, Splinter wanted to keep vigil over him, and provide him
with some soothing words of-- if not advice-- comfort...
He let his son go.
Mike, walking down a familiar city street-- a street full of cracks
and lines which he'd usually merrily balance on and jump across-- had his
head bowed down in thought.
When he thought about it, perhaps it was kind of selfish to end his
life like that. His family needed him, he knew that.
His suicide could also lead to one of more of the others contemplating
the same thing, giving them funny ideas...and he wouldn't want them to
die. But on the other hand, Mike thought, maybe it would just
be better if we all did k--
Just before Mike could have time to finish his gloomy train of thought,
he was yanked off his feet, and he landed smack dab on his shell, on top
of something.
He tipped his head back, staring right into the face of a startled
five year old. Mike had landed across the hood of this little boy's toy
car, which he was manouvering himself, and the turtle was now looking at
him up-side down.
"Hiya," said Mike, not completely his perky, pedagogical self.
"Hello," the kid replied, his eyes wide. The man'd get mad at him any
minute now! And if he didn't, one of the people in the kindergarden
would for sure!
Though he wasn't sure if this was an ordinary man. He looked kind of
funny... "Are you the incredible Hulk?"
Mike's already pale smile faded, but then got replaced by a crooked, but amused grin. Kids were so entertaining, so different...he ran into him with his car, didn't even say he was sorry, and then just blurted out this strange question. Kids were truthful. "No, I'm something even better," Mike said with a wink, eventually standing up from the blue and purple car.
"Oh? Well, you're not Superman, cause you doan have a cape, and you're green," the kid was getting bolder now.
"Feh! Superman! Who needs 'im? I am from another planet, though, but not from Krypton..." He said mysteriously.
The kid cocked his head to one side, and raised his eyebrows skeptically, "Who are you, mister?"
"Why, I'm Captain Demento, protector of the weak and spreader of joy and zany stuff throughout the Galaxy!" Mike declared, pretending he was shocked that the boy didn't know.
"Uh huh," he replied ironically.
Mike made a mock mopy face, "Boy, you're already becoming the perfect little New Yorker, aren't you?"
"Stanley! How many times have I told you? Don't go outside the kindergarden alone! You could get run over for Pete's sake!"
They both turned and saw a woman in her early forties running towards
them, balancing a crying toddler on one of her hips and clutching a box
of toys, a stuffed bunny rabbit, a packet of biscuits and a couple of yarn
balls under her left arm.
Her flip-flops smacked noisily against the concrete, and a large, colourful
scarf flapped in the light breeze, entangling itself in her hair. She had
a light smell of cigarette smoke about her, and Mike didn't have to wonder
if she was the one who had made it. She looked completely stressed out.
"Stanley, would you please get back in here? We've been looking all over for you!" She breathed, rocking the toddler gently on her hip, then she noticed Mike standing there, watching her. "Oh, hi! Do you know Stanley?"
"Uhm, heh, well, I--"
"Yeah! He's my, um... uncle! Can he come too, Elaine?"
Mike cocked an eyebrow at Stanley, who smiled innocently.
Elaine sized Michaelangelo up, clicking her tongue, "Neat costume," she commented, and suddenly handed him the baby. "Would you mind holding her for a moment? No? Great, thanks!" She said hastily. "Okay, Stanley, what we'll do is that we'll put all these things in the car and you can wheel them into the storage room. You'll do that for Elaine, right?"
Stanley shrugged, eyeing the pack of biscuits, and Elaine quickly opened it, giving him one. He put it in his mouth, taking the things from Elaine and loading it over into his car. "Good boy," Elaine smiled, patting his head.
"Woof, arf!" Said Stanley around the biscuit, grinned, and started pushing
the car through an open gate at top speed.
Elaine followed, waving at Mike to come with them.
When they got inside, the place was in shambles. It was more chaotic
than any battle Mike had ever been in.
Kids were running around everywhere, most of the chairs were overturned,
as were some tables and shelves, there were splotches of milk across the
floor and one of the walls, and the room was so scattered with toys that
it looked like someone had taken all the toy boxes, piled them up, and
let a bomb explode underneath them. There was coming an alarming smell
from the kitchen. One of the smaller kids was humming to himself as he
peacefully drew a large drawing of a horse and some flowers on the biggest
and whitest wall he could find. And the noise...God...these children
didn't need to listen to some annoying kiddie tune over and over and over
again. No, sir! They made their own kind of noise. Michaelangelo heard
Elaine sigh in front of him.
She flip-flopped across the room to the kitchenette, to rescue whatever
it was that was burning to a crisp inside the smelly stove, avoiding kids
and dodging flying pillows and tinkertoys on her way. Only one or two of
the kids had noticed Mike's arrival, and they were glancing at him, whispering
to each other. Stanley emerged from the storage room, munching on a biscuit,
and whispered to them, "His name is Captain Demento...he's from another
planet!" The two kids looked briefly at Stanley, who nodded, and then they
gawked at Mikey.
Mike smiled, stepped out onto the exact middle of the floor, covered
the toddler's ears, and then screamed at the top his lungs. "AIR RAID!"
The wild kids instantly dropped to the ground, covering their heads,
and the kid who had been drawing on the wall got so startled away from
his far-away art study that the horse suddenly got a big, black line down
its forehead.
All was silent, and Elaine came running out from the kitchen with a
pot of something dark and stinky, wrapped in a towel. She stared at the
bizarre scene, and her brow creased thoroughly.
"Hi!" said Mike cheerfully, as if nothing had happened, "My name is
Mike," he paused, glancing at Stanley, "though others know me as Captain
Demento! I've travelled six thousand light years to get here, and it's
a real honour to be here today!
I will tell you all an entrancing story, if you would all please just
gather in the story room," he announced, and bowed deeply, still with the
baby in his arms.
The children stared at him for a brief, silent moment, then scrambled
to their feet. Something cool was about to happen, and they knew it.
Mike beamed at them, and leaned over to an astounded Elaine, "Uh, you
do
have a story room, right?" He asked.
She nodded, then shook her head, smiling, "It worked. It was a rotten
trick, Mike, but it worked," she patted his shoulder encouragingly, chuckling
a little.
He raised his eyebrows at her, and next his face broke into a big,
proud smirk.
Elaine and Mike shuffled into the story room, and halted just inside
the door, waiting for the kids to settle down amongst the worn pillows.
Mike took the time to study the colourful drawings covering nearly every
vacant centimeter of the greyish walls. A lot of the themes repeated; flowers,
suns, people, animals, and especially skyscrapers-- but there were also
some kind of interesting and different ones, with monsters, weird castles,
some really dark and horrid, and there was even one picture of Barney dangling
from a tree with a noose around his neck and a goofy smile on his face.
He guessed that Elaine wasn't aware of that one being up.
Michaelangelo found an opening in the attempt at a circle that the children
were forming, and sat down on the floor with his legs crossed and his back
straight.
He drew his breath and looked from one kid to another, his dark eyes
twinkling under the brim of his hat, and with a small smile playing at
his lips.
Elaine leaned expectantly on the door frame.
"Okay, kids," said Mike, "lemme tell you a story..."
Elaine begged Mike to help her out in the kindergarden, and since Mike
agreed with her on the point that it was insane to have only one person
take care of twentyfive kids, he instantly accepted the plea.
He didn't want any salary, but she insisted that he had to get something
for sacrificing himself like that. He refused, but it all ended with him
getting paid.
He admitted that he and his family could need the money. And Elaine
was a very stubborn woman.
Mike taught the kids a lot of new games, mostly crazy ones that he and
his brothers had invented themselves and played when they were younger--
and still played, occasionally-- though Elaine didn't hesitate to let him
know it if she feared for the children's safety. So he didn't even consider
teaching them how to fight. It would be basically impossible anyway, with
twentyfive unruly little students.
Fun though they had, each and every kid agreed that the story break
was definitely the most exciting event of the day.
He never told them any typical fairy tales about witches, kings, trolls,
fairies and princesses.
What he told them could have easily fit right into a modern, top class
Sci-Fi or Adventure novel.
The walls of the story room were now mostly covered with dozens of
drawings of Mikey; either fighting villains, telling a story, wearing a
superhero costume, drawing, baking-- and a lot of kids had worked themselves
into the picture.
They were rapidly running out of green crayons.
The little critters all believed that he was an alien superhero, and
Elaine-- well, Elaine was just so happy to get help that she didn't think
to question it all. She simply adored Michaelangelo.
One afternoon, while most of the kids were napping, she casually mentioned
that her daughter would come and pay them a visit the next day.
"So, when the professor didn't get his helmet back, he got very angry. Right? You guys get real pissed o-- I mean mad-- when something of yours goes missing, too. I've seen that," he smiled knowingly at some of the kids, who in turn gave a goofy, innocent grin, blushed and stared at the floor.
It was Monday, and it was the middle of the story break. The kids had
just had an early lunch, and were full and contended, and sprawled on the
pillows, listening to Mike excitedly telling them a story with a new twist.
It was seen from the perspective of the "bad guy".
They listened intently, and had opinions of their own churning around
in their heads. Maybe there was more to things than they thought. The other
story tellers had just told them stories they hadn't made up themselves,
and droned on.
Mike asked them questions, got them thinking. He didn't just want to
tell them that "that's just the way it is,".
If he didn't know the answer to something, he admitted it. And by the
next story break, he'd gone and found out about it.
He revealed to them that he had some pretty smart brothers, and a very
wise old father, whom he could ask.
Especially a lot of the children wanted to know how the world worked;
like why things didn't just fly up into space, why it rained, why the Chinese
weren't up-side down, why dogs breathed so much all the time, etc etc...
What Mike didn't know about those things, he asked Donatello, and he
even considered to maybe even bring him someday.
The others had wondered why he asked so much these days, but he didn't
tell them yet. He was afraid they'd be pissed.
He had to tell someone, though, and he chose Donny, on account that
he was the one he bothered the most with questions.
That Monday, someone sneaked into the story room and sat down on the
floor with their back against the far wall.
Mike knew that someone new was watching him, but he continued talking.
"You see, kids, so-called bad guys always have a reason for doing what they do. Maybe their parents weren't nice to them, maybe they had a tough life, maybe they don't have any friends, maybe they feel left out and want attention, maybe they've misunderstood something, maybe they are slightly mad and just want to rule the world, because they see themselves fit to change the world in their own image. Maybe they were pressured by someone else. Maybe they just want revenge-- like when someone hits you and you get angry and want to hit them back," he grinned, "it's the same thing, only maybe on a bigger scale. There are a lot of reasons. Maybe--"
"Maybe, maybe, maybe...all right, already!" Exclaimed Josie, an usually shy, little girl.
All eyes turned to her, and she hid her face behind a pillow, blushing badly. Everyone laughed heartily.
"Yeah, Josie. That's called conscious repetition. It's something a lot of authors use when writing," Mike said, smiling.
"You're gonna be a writer, right, Mike?" Stanley piped up. All the others made a noisy agree to this.
Mike scratched his beak. "We'll see..." He shrugged, "Anyway, until next time I want you to come up with some questions about the bad guys, okay? Or perhaps some thoughts of your own on the matter. No pressure on anyone, but it'd be nice if ya did," he winked at them.
Everyone got up and stormed off to find their jackets and shoes to go
play outside on the swing sets and in the sand boxes. The girl who had
sneaked in earlier, now stood up and stretched. All of the kids said hi
to her as they passed.
Stanley and his two best friends, Morgan and Natalie, began yanking
at Mike's coat to persuade him to go with them, but he shook his head,
telling them he had to help Elaine clean up the place a little. "I'll catch
up with you, 'kay?" he said, compromising when he saw how disappointed
they were.
What he really wanted to do was to see who that girl was.
She stood there waiting for him as the room eventually emptied. She
wasn't what he would call strikingly beautiful, but she was awfully cute.
She was about an inch taller than him, was wearing thick socks, a pair
of black velvet pants with straps, and a top, decorated with Daffy Duck,
who was smiling smugly at him and the world in general. Her own smile was
bright, expectant and full of warmth. Her body was rounded, but she didn't
look slow or overweight. To Mike it was a welcome change from all the supermodels
nowadays. Her dark blonde, wavy hair was divided in two thick braids,
and her brown eyes looked at him with interest. He guessed that she was
about a year or two older than him.
"Never wear a skirt in the kindergarden," she suddenly said, with laughter in her voice.
"Huh?"
"This isn't what I usually wear," she looked at her baggy pants,"but these little folks go crazy when they get the chance to tease someone," she said, taking one of her hands out of her pocket, "I'm Janine, and I'm guessing that you're Mike. Mom's told me a lot about you,"
He shook her hand, "Mom? You mean Elaine, right? She mentioned her daughter would visit," Mike suddenly realized that he's seen those eyes and hair before. Of course! Her relation to Elaine was obvious. However, Elaine was actually pretty skinny, so Mike wondered if that's the way Janine would turn out.
"Yup," nodded Janine, "she's really thankful for all your help, you know,"
"Yep, I know,"
"Mom told me you were great with them, but geez! I really like your way of telling stories. Maybe I'll come here again," she sighed, "Mom could sure use the extra help, anyways. I think I'm supposed to mop the floor or something today,"
"But don't they have people to do that?" Mike wondered.
"Nah, not always...can't always afford it," she shrugged.
"Oh..." said Mike, then he looked up, "hey, maybe if I cut down on my sal--"
Janine held up a hand, "Mom wouldn't hear of it. Forget it, I don't mind helping out that much. Plus, I don't think your salary is enough to pay for it, anyway,"
"Good point,"
"Besides, it's not that big a deal. It's not like we're having a crisis or something,"
"Okay, whatever," said Mike, "but hey, I was about to grab some lunch. Usually I eat with the other kids, but there were a couple of ahem, accidents," he glanced at her conpiratorily, "that divided me, you might say, from my lunch,"
"Who started the food fight this time?"
Michaelangelo laughed. "It was Christopher and Mary Anne,"
"Ha! I always knew they had the hots for each other," she giggled.
They both laughed. "Well, you'll have to excuse me. I have a date with a mop," said Janine, waved, and disappeared into the pantry.
Michaelangelo skipped across the floor to the kitchen and did a somersault at the end. "I'm in luuuuv!" He shouted, and hummed a little as he made himself a tuna sandwich.
"Hmm?" Elaine came in from the bathroom.
"Oh, nothing," he replied innocently, whistling as he went outside,
grabbing an apple from the counter, in passing.
But Mike's boost of happiness only lasted for so long. He realized that
he'd been too optimistic.
Janine also believed that his appearance was but a costume. There was
no way that things could ever work out between them.
Still, he continued talking to her, laughing with her, indulging her
every whim. He had to. At the core of him, a tiny hope still burned.
"I think...I think that maybe the bad guy does what he does because he's scared,"
This little piece of Josie's mind got instantly protested at. It was
Friday, and they were continuing the debate.
Elaine and Janine both liked how he was making Josie more confident.
She needed to air her opinions more often.
"Why should he be scared? He's powerful, he's strong-- everything!" Morgan voiced, and got instantly backed up by Stanley, Natalie, Christopher and Mary Anne, the oldest kids in the kindergarden. The younger ones followed suite, some starting to make booing noises at Josie.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Mike interrupted, "Didn't I tell you right from the start to consider and respect other people's opinions?"
"Even when the opinions are dumb?" Asked Morgan.
"Especially when they're dumb," said Mike gravely, looking him right in the eye.
Morgan felt his face redden, knowing that he was referring to him, "Well, whadda you know, anyway?" he mumbled irritably, "You're just a stupid alien..."
Michaelangelo knew that he was just an angry and embarassed kid, and that this was his best payback, but it struck him nevertheless. "I know more and have experienced more than you all might think," he said quietly, looking down at his hands. There was sorrow and ice in that voice.
The crowd went still, and Janine got the creeping suspicion that there
really was something in those words. That there was something wrong.
She was curious, and needed to talk to him. Elaine looked concerned;
she had never seen him like this before. She didn't like the way he looked
right now, or how serious the children had suddenly gone. The silence was
pressing.
One of the smaller kids was biting his lip to hold back his anxious
tears. Nobody dared to move, and nobody knew why.
Mike looked up abruptly, staring at the children as if he had never
seen them before. "Hello!" He exclaimed, "What's this? Don't you hear the
swing sets calling for you, huh?" He laughed, "They're saying that the
last one outside doesn't get to ride before nap time!"
The kids let their breaths out and moved out of the room as a single
wave of pushing, shoving, yelling and hope.
Elaine stopped him at the door. "Mike, I'm sorry about Morgan, he--"
Mike waved her excuses away, "No, I'm the one who's sorry. It was my fault. He got embarassed,"
"But you just tried to stand up for Josie," Elaine protested.
"It was my fault," Mike repeated, then smiled briefly at her, "okay?"
Elaine shook her head and gave a reluctant shrug, "If you say so..." She sighed, "Either way, I'm going outside for a while," she said, pulling a packet of Pall Mall menthols from one of the many pockets of her long dress.
"Oh, mom," complained Janine, rolling her eyes, "I wish you'd stop doing that,"
Elaine flicked out a lighter as she walked. "Aww, give it a rest, huh, sweetie?" She answered elusively.
Janine looked skyward and sighed, turning to Mike, who stood there silently, gazing emptily at some uncertain point. He was usually so hyper and talkative, and she wasn't sure if she liked this sudden change or not. Something was definitely the matter.
"Mike?" She asked, taking a step towards him.
"Mmnhuh?" He mumbled distantly.
"What's eating you?"
Mike slowly focused on her, somehow not finding the will to act happy. "I dunno...just a little down, I guess," He bluffed.
Janine clicked her tongue, not unlike her mother, and squinted thoughtfully at Mike, "How's about you join me and my friends tonight, hmm?"
Mike blinked, an ambushed look on his face, "Awhat?"
"Okay, if you don't wanna..." said Janine with mock indifference, smiled a little, and started to walk away.
"No, no-- it's okay. Sure, yeah, err...like, count me in, babe," he managed to blurt.
"Good," she smiled, "Meet you here at nine?"
"Nnyeah, fine," he nodded.
"Okay, then," she said, after a short silence, "anyway, my shift is over...I gotta motor,"
When she had gone, Michaelangelo wondered what the hell he was doing.
He didn't get to think for long, though, cause one of the children had
fallen over outside and was screaming for his attention.
For once, everybody was gathered around the short dinner table.
For once, they were having a more than decent meal. But as always,
Raphael just couldn't let things be left alone.
"So, Mike, where were you today?"
Mike made a vague sound that was supposed to mean "Nowhere special..."
"...and yesterday, and the day before that?" Raph pressed on, "Hey, why not go for the whole shebang! Where have you been the last couple of weeks?"
"Just butt out, okay?" Muttered Mike, "It's not like I ever ask you where you run off to all the time..."
"Fine, sheesh...excuuuse me fer askin'!" Raph threw his arms up, but didn't leave the room. In stead he took a big chomp of the Chinese take-out they had ordered. "It's just that we can't order take-out all the time, ya know...we ain't exactly Donald Trump..."
"God, Raph! Ya ever think of trying to cook dinner yerself once in a while?" He yelled, clanking his empty bowl into the sink, "You guys really remind me of a bunch of babies sometimes!"
Raph snorted, "Look who's talking!"
"Real funny, Raph," Mike glared at him.
"Look, buddy, all I wanna know is where those extra 30 bucks or so seem to have come from lately,"
Michaelangelo stole a quick glance at Don, who looked up at him as if
to confirm that he hadn't spilled the beans, then returned to his food.
Don kept his eyes pinned on his curry beef and took a chopstick full of
rice, praying that they'd stop fighting soon. He was gonna keep his part
of the deal no matter what.
If anyone got to know anything, he wasn't going to be the one to inform
them.
Splinter, on the other hand, had yet to mention Mike's little attempt
at his own life. He figured no good would really come out of it, except
that it would give a fairly good explanation to the others of what bugged
Mike nowadays. Splinter knew that Mike had to be the one to tell them himself
when the time was right, if ever.
Now he closed his eyes, sighed, not knowing if he wanted to break the
fight up or what. One of them was eventually going to leave. That much
was sure.
After an incident some years before, none of them ever dared to start
battling in front of their sensei at the dinner table again.
It was to be Leonardo who eventually stopped the little quarrel. "Raph, Mike-- I'd like to know about the money, too, but let's settle this another time, okay?" He looked at them glaring at each other, and lowered his voice to a strict growl, "Okay?"
Raph sat down again, but Mike remained standing. "Sensei, with your permission, I'd like to leave the table now," he bowed.
The rat cocked an eyebrow, but nodded, "All right, Michaelangelo,"
"There he goes again," Raph mumbled.
Mike ignored him and left the room. When he was about to put his hat on, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around, annoyed. "What do you want, Raph?"
His father didn't react in any way, "I know I do not need to tell you that he only does that because he is worried. And I suspect he is a little jealous of the friendship you have seemed to recently form with Donatello. I just wanted to tell you that whatever it is that you are doing, I hope you do what you feel is right in your heart. I do not wish you to get yourself into any trouble,"
Mike sighed, "Master, it's nothing serious, I promise. I'm not becoming a criminal or anything!"
"Nor did I suspect so. Trouble has many different faces,"
Mike looked at him, then he put his hat on and scurried out of the lair
and through the tunnels.
As Michaelangelo got closer and closer to the gate of the kindergarden,
he noticed that an uncomfortable feeling was growing rapidly in his stomach,
and suddenly jumped up and took a solid bite into his heart. He felt nauseous.
He stopped for a moment, leaning slightly on a street light.
Mike made a surprised grimace; he was not the kind of person
who got nervous, not about these things, anyway.
He used to have such an optimistic and even kind of relaxed outlook
on life. He had convinced himself that worrying simply just didn't do you
any good.
That philosophy had obviously been ditched.
He shook his head and purposefully started walking towards the gate.
She was already there.
Boy, was she ever there.
She was telling the truth; the attire she wore with the kids wasn't
what she usually wore. The baggy pants had not been complementing her enough.
She had looked cute then, but now he thought she was downright gorgeous.
Did she ever have a figure!
Her maroon dress, stopping a few inches above her knees, clung to her
luscious figure, and it was just low-cut enough to reveal a little bit
of cleavage.
She was also wearing a red, blue and creamy college jacket, some huge,
brownish black boots, and her hair lay loosely across her back and shoulders.
He knew her to be eighteen-- hence almost a year older than him-- but now
she looked twenty, or older. For an instant, he wondered if it was him
she had dressed up for, but then he once again reminded himself that this
what was she usually wore.
If so, it was a wonder she didn't have a boyfriend.
"Hey, Mike!" She met him in halfstride and drew him close into a greeting
hug. She smelled of cinnemon, toothpaste, Elaine's cigarettes, some kind
of spicy food, and mildly shampooish. He felt like shivering out of pleasure,
but didn't. They pulled apart, and she frowned at him. "Are you still wearing
the suit?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but she broke him off, unawarely saving
his ass. "Aww, that's okay, I guess. The guys'll really get a kick out
of it," she grinned.
And the guys did.
"Hey, everyone! Tada! This is the guy I've been talking about! Would you just get a load of his costume?" Janine beamed.
"Wow! Cool!"
"You're Mike, huh?" Said a girl. She stepped forward to shake his hand, and gave him a lazy smile, "I'm Patti. Maybe you can baby-sit for me later on?"
"Uhh, I--"
"Patti's pregnant," Janine broke in.
"Oh, congrats!" Said Mike, and shook her hand once more, smiling. "Maybe I will,"
"That'd be nice," nodded Patti, "Janine says you're magnificent with children,"
"Yeah, Janine's been babbling about you till our ears nearly dropped off," a tall guy gave a smug smile.
Janine's cheeks went slightly crimson, "The guy with the bad sense of humour is Doug," she told Mike, glaring at Doug, and then pointed at three other guys and three girls in turn, "and this is Steve, Phil, Jerry, Susan, Kayla and Gillian. This apartment is Kayla and Gillian's." Then she added jokingly, "Gee, it's almost like an episode of F*R*I*E*N*D*S, ain't it?"
Michaelangelo smiled, "Nice ta meetcha, folks," he gave them an "indian greeting", raising one hand. Even if he saw how they accepted him, his palms were starting to break a mild sweat. He cleared his throat, "Yeah. So...what're you guys plannin' tonight?"
"Well, " said Kayla, "we're basically gonna hang out here, listen to some music, down a few, relax, that sorta stuff...some other people'll be here later, so it'll be kind of a little, laid-back party,"
Mike nodded slowly, "Cool."
Kayla, Gillian and Jerry went to fetch some ice cold Premiums and other
assorted beers, and Janine produced a small bottle of gin from her pocket
before she flung the jacket over the back of a chair. When the others came
in from the kitchen, she took some of the glasses, settled on the couch,
waved for Mikey to join her, and poured two fingers for herself.
She shook the bottle in Mike's direction. "Ya want some of this?"
He hesitated, but shook his head in the end. "I think I'll just have
some beer,"
And so the party proceeded. They danced, piling through most of Kayla
and Gillian's extensive CD-collection, changing CD's all the time, they
talked about this and that, and as the others got more affected by the
drinking, the conversations got more personal. After a while, more people
came flowing in through the front door, and Janine introduced Mike to everyone
again. They were very impressed by his "costume", and the familiar feeling
of being a freak returned to Mike, but this time he was a freak being exhibited,
which was even worse.
Mike had a feeling that this was going all too easy, it felt like a
dream, it was crazy-- but as the evening went on, he got more comfy, and
really got the taste of Premium, those feelings of paranoia were being
pushed away to a far corner of his mind.
When the evening had transformed to night, and one or two of the guests
had fallen asleep on the couch or on the floor, Mike merrily waltzed over
to a door he didn't think he'd noticed before, and flung it open.
"Let's see what's in here," he mumbled to himself.
He had walked into Gillian's bedroom, which wasn't that big, but painted
in a soothing variety of blues and greens, reminding him of the sea. "Nice,"
he smiled, and stepped inside, nursing a luke warm beer can in his hand
that he hadn't taken a swig from in half an hour. He had forgotten it was
there.
Someone suddenly turned the air conditioner on full force-- which was
long overdue-- and Mike sighed blissfully, plopping down on the bed. It
moved underneath his body, jiggling, and he could hear the sound of liquid
being softly thrown about, coming from inside of it. "Ooh, a waterbed,"
he grinned, finally remembering his beer.
"Mike! Hi! I've been looking all over for you!"
Mike was startled awake by Janine's bouncy voice. He lifted his head
a bit, and saw her standing in the doorway, holding the half-empty bottle
of gin.
Her hair was a little tousled, and one of the straps of her dress had
fallen off her shoulder. She walked slowly across the floor, her full hips
swaying, boggling his mind, her bosom bouncing softly up and down...
He drew a breath and shot her a goofy grin, his eyelids almost closed.
She smiled back, and sat down beside him on the bed. He drew himself up
in a sitting position, forcing himself to focus on her face. It wasn't
too hard, because her face was nearly lovelier than her body. His eyes
halted at her lips, slightly parted.
Suddenly Janine looked down at the floor, her hair falling down and
obscuring her face.
"Um...what's your favorite movie, Mike?"
"Huh? Movie? Movie...well, uh...can't think of anything else right now than As Good As It Gets..." He said.
"I love that one!" She squeaked, "Nicholson is so cool!"
"Umhmm," Mike nodded groggily, "and in The Shining, too,"
Janine grinned, brushing her hair behind one ear, "Oh yeah! A great Kubrick movie, dontcha think? One of the few of his productions I've liked,"
"Ditto," Mike said, "I don't get what's so incredibly fantastic about 2001: A Space Oddyssey...I dunno about you, but I just can't seriously like a movie starting with a couple of monkeys beating each other with sticks to Richard Strauss' 'Also Sprach Zarathustra', heh," He gave her a silly smile, his eyelids low.
This sent her giggling for quite a while. "Nope..." Janine shook her head, drawing a breath, the curtain of hair falling in front of her face again. "Mike, can I kiss you?" She then said, right out of the blue.
Mike stared at her, hesitating. He concentrated, replaying the evening
in his mind; no, she hadn't had that much to drink.
A lot of that gin had been poured into other people's glasses, and
aside from that, she had only had one or two brewskies. Could she
really be serious?
"I don't care how you look, Mike," she murmured, looking at him, "I just know I want to kiss you,"
That was all he needed to hear, and his heart began thudding passionately as he leaned in to kiss her. She leaned forward too, but suddenly she started feeling the back of his head and prodding his neck with her fingers. He frowned, nuzzling her hair while he had the chance. What was she doing?
"Doesn't this thing have a zipper or something around here somewhere?" She asked, a trace of annoyance and impatient passion in her voice.
His heart didn't sink at these words. No, what it did was a full-fledged
kamikaze dive, splattering against the bottom as a splotch mark, down in
his feet.
When she said she didn't mind how he looked, she hadn't meant that
he didn't mind his reptilian features. No, she had said that she didn't
care how the guy underneath the costume looked. He swallowed, salty liquid
threatening to worm its way out of his tear channels.
She leaned back,"God, this suit is so difficult to figure out! Could
you plea--" she then saw the look on his face, the horrible realization
suddenly hit her, and the words never left her throat.
Michaelangelo opened his mouth, and whether it was the sobs building
up in his troat or the fact that he didn't know what to say that was preventing
him, he didn't utter a single word.
"Oh, my God…" She whispered, moving backwards, clawing frantically at the sheets. "Oh, my God…" She fell off of the bed, followed by a soft thump. "Oh, God!" Her voice rised to new levels in a shrill scream. Nobody could hear her due to the music, ruckus and their present states.
He sat there, numbed. In his fairly affected state, he couldn't for
the life of him figure out why she should have to be so frightened of him.
He was a nice guy. He would never hurt her.
Janine curled together as a little ball on the floor, backing off into
the furthest corner. He got up from the bed, approaching her, drawing a
startled and semi-hysterical sob from her with each step.
"Janine, don't be afraid…it's only me… Mike. Remember?"
"No," she gave a small cry, combined with a hiccup, "you're Captain Demento…you're an alien!"
She's had more to drink, he thought hazily, how long was I
asleep?
"Okay, I lied," he gave a small smile, "my name isn't Captain Demento,
and I'm not from outer space. My name is Michael….michaelang-- angelo,"
he took a breath, "and I'm just a turtle. An ordinary turtle from Earth…just
that…my DNA got a little altered, ya see…"
"Don't get any closer," she whispered.
He ignored her, picking her up, "Did ya hurt your head when you fell
down?" He asked, wobbling a little, not so much from her weight as from
his drunkenness.
She didn't resist, she just lay stiffly in his arms, her sobbing shaking
her strongly.
He felt he was getting tired, and decided to go back out into the party
so someone else could take care of Janine.
But at the back of his head, something was yelling at him, telling
him that his logic was insane.
"Hey, people…!" He slurred a bit. "Could someone see what's wrong with Janine? I dunno what's—"
"Patti!" Janine shrieked, "It's not a suit, for God's sake, it's not a suit!"
Patti got up from the couch and staggered out onto the floor. "What're you talkin' bout, girl? Has he done anything to you?"
"Just try to take it off of him! You'll see!" Janine encouraged her desperately. "Please!"
"Okay, whatever…" Said Patti, taking a swig of her beer, "C'mon, boys! You heard the lady!"
"That wasn't very nice of you, Janine," Mike said severely, putting her down.
She stumbled across the room, covering her mouth with her hands, her
shoulders shaking.
Mike swayed a bit where he stood, and turned to face the guys who were
now going to attempt at pulling his goddamn skin of, unaware.
They all jumped at him from different directions, and at first he collapsed
like a sack of flour. He just couldn't seem to find the strength to do
anything!
Then something mean kicked in, and he began breaking loose. He knocked
Jerry and Doug unconscious, screaming like a madman to get free, but even
though he was a talented ninja, he was drunk, and was in either
case in no position to get away from a dozen grown guys who were all holding
him down.
"Grab the head," yelled Steve,"I wanna see this jerk's face!"
"I told you it's not a costume..." Whispered Janine breathlessly, leaning against Patti, who was comforting her, studying the violent brawl.
Mike shot a fist out, and Steve howled in pain, grabbing his mouth.
When he put one of his hands down again and looked at it, one of his front
teeth were lying in his palm, bathing in blood.
Steve groaned in pain and scowled madly at Mike. Phil started to try
to find out how to get the "mask" off, just like Janine had done.
"It won't come off," he panted heavily, after trying to pull Mike's head off several times, with Mike kicking and yelling.
"Maybe you're doing it wrong," suggested one of the recently arrived guests, and pried his fingers between Mike's neck and carapace, scratching the skin, sending needles of pain through Mike as he tried to lift and tear away what he thought was nothing but the fabric of a suit.
"Oh fertheluvva-- it's not a suit!!" Janine suddenly snapped, and all the guests turned to her, "Don't you see? This guy's not human! He's not wearing no friggin' costume!" Her voice then went to a deep murmur, "That stuff's his skin..."
The angry crowd went silent, and all that was heard was Michaelangelo's
feet scraping against the floor, and his yells which were becoming more
and more rare and then finally drowning to an incoherent whimper.
The guys who were holding him, now let go in fear and disgust, thinking
only of getting away from him.
Someone had turned the stereo off at some point, and the air conditioner
made an eerily audible sound, like somewhere between the buzz of a fridge
and the wind blowing through an old tree.
Everybody had their eyes fixed on Mike, lying in a crumpled heap, his
trench coat ripped and his eyelids squeezed tightly shut, his body trembling
with a ragged breath.
Janine took a tentative step forward, but stopped. Her fogged mind
wondered if they'd done wrong, thought that she never wanted this, yet
at the same time she was overcome with a nauseating dread. Who was this
strange creature?
Mike's eyelids fluttered open, and he looked at the people, who had
cleared a large space in the room around him, and were encircling him,
fright and hate plastered across their faces.
He knew the unspoken words; freak, alien, sub-human, creature, demon...let's
capture him, kill him...
It stung his mind to be prodded with such loathing eyes. Trouble
has many different faces...
The cozy party had certainly had a horrible turn of events. Through
an emotional haze, the memory of Janine's arms around him returned, and
he swallowed, looking up at her.
She looked down into the turtle's bruised face, taking a breath when
she saw the juicy black eye he had gotten.
He got up, and stood.
But as he motioned for the door, there was a yell, some commotion behind
him, and he was back down on the floor, flat on his stomach, getting the
wind knocked out of him violently.
He laid there quietly, his face being ground down into the linoleum,
people pounding his arms and head and legs, trying to dent or even crack
his carapace, and something began building up inside of him.
He could just take it, or he could dish some out himself. In either
cases, he just wasn't about to be killed by drunken, aggrivated and frightened
party guests, and certainly not in front of her.
With a growl of effort, he began drawing himself up from the floor,
fists pounding his shell like a rainstorm on a ladybug, and flipped over
one or two of the persons who had thrown themselves on top of him, in a
desperate attempt to keep him down.
They thudded onto the floor behind him, and he made a round-house kick--
his limbs aching-- on the people blocking his path as he made his way for
a window.
On his tour through the house, before he really started drinking, he
had noted to himself certain things about the place.
Like ways to escape. But he hadn't seriously thought it'd come to the
point where he'd have to use any.
The glass shattered as he threw himself out of the window, landing on
a small plateau on the metallic ladder, with the front half of his body
dangling in thin air, making a loud clank and shocking a gasp out of him.
He hastily pulled himself back in, pressing his body against the wall
for a breather before he started to ascend the iron steps.
Inside, the party group stared at the broken window in disbelief, before
Janine went over to it and peeked outside.
She barely caught sight of his green, two-toed feet disappearing up
the ladder. "Sorry, guys, I don't see him anywhere..." She said out loud,
catching herself by surprise.
The party was ending. Each and every one knew that it was time to wrap
it up, and they started picking up their coats and shoes, gathered their
bags, and eventually poured out from the apartment in clusters and couples.
After a good fifteen minutes, everyone was gone. Only some of Kayla and
Gillian's closest friends stayed behind to help them clean up.
The clock was snailing its way towards two forty in the morning.
Steve sat in a corner of the livingroom, in a year-torn bean bag chair,
nursing his jaw, letting out the occasional curse, damning the turtle.
Jerry had come to again, and sat on the couch with an icebag on his head,
but Doug was still unconscious, lying next to him.
Janine sat on a chair in the kitchen, while Patti fussed around, making
coffee for everyone.
She constantly shot Janine worried looks, but Janine only stared blankly
at the table, leaving the mug of coffee in front of her untouched. Janine
had sort of fallen out. She replayed the events of the evening again and
again, and however she turned and twisted it, she always came to two conclusions;
up until they realized that Mike was the real thing, they had all adored
him.
Especially her mom and the kids at work. He was really good with them.
Now that the truth was revealed, it had lead to a bloody mess. Hatred
and fear. And she couldn't help but to feel some of the same emotions that
the crowd had felt. She had gotten the shock of her life in Gillian's bedroom.
How could he? How could he deceive them all like that? Then a small
voice spoke to her. Maybe he just wanted to get in.
Maybe he was alone. She could imagine a lot of reasons...
As Phil, Kayla and Gillian came in through the kitchen door with some
cases of empty beer bottles, she took the chance to slip out before Patti
saw her.
She walked past Doug and Jerry on the couch, and Steve in the corner,
who said nothing, and walked out of the apartment.
Her boots brushed against the carpet in the hall, and she turned left,
walking up the stairs, higher and higher, until she reached the right door.
She pushed it open, and the cool night air hit her body, making her
shiver.
Michaelangelo sat on the roof, his legs dangling from the edge. He sighed
as he rubbed one of his bruised elbows.
He would've checked how long he'd been sitting up here, but his watch
had been cracked in the fight.
And frankly, he really didn't care.
The cars buzzed past way underneath him, and somewhere a nightclub
was blaring music, a slow song. The last dance, evidently.
Now, as his cover was blown, there was no question that he'd lose his
job. Lately, it had been the one thing keeping him afloat. He had truly
enjoyed working there. The thought of not seeing Elaine, the kids-- especially
Stanley and Josie-- and Janine every day liked he used to, was painful.
And on top of it all, his family'd have less money again. It was his
own fault, he thought bitterly, he had screwed up. Still, it was unfair...they
didn't have to freak out that much... He made a snarl, which
soon faded, No, they did have to...they freaked out because they
were so scared...look at me, I'm just this hideous, God-awful-- he
got to his feet, looking down at the pavement. I should've known she
really didn't want to kiss me, not the real me.
He grasped the fact
that this was his second suicidal attempt in a month, and wondered if maybe
he was just tripping, maybe-- no, it's no surprise that I'm trying to
kill myself. Now was just a lucky stretch, false hope...dammit! I'll never,
never...He grinned abruptly, sadly shaking his head, Michael J.
Angelo! You really are a whiner, you know that? His eyes started filling
with exhausted tears.
"Don't jump!"
"Hmm?" He craned his neck around at the sound of the voice.
Janine stood there behind him, her mascara and eyeshadow a little smeared, rubbing her arms with her hands to keep a little warm, her hair a mess. She had just hurt him immensely. Yet, he still thought she was cute.
"What do you want?" He managed to croak.
She stood perfectly still, her face a mask of anxiousness. "I don't know," she admitted, "just don't jump, okay?"
Mike turned his face away from her, "Why not?"
"I...cause I don't want you to die," she said.
He huffed, "What do you care?"
"I don't want anyone to die," she said, worming her way out of the question.
"Well, I'm real sorry," said Mike sarcastically, "but the number of mutant turtles is about to be shortened by one," he took a small step forward, feeling slightly dizzy.
"There are others?" She asked hurriedly.
Mike pressed his lips tightly together. He didn't need to be reminded of them right now, not when he had finally made up his mind. He had no idea why he answered her next. "Yeah, my family...okay?"
She sensed the irritation in his voice, and decided not to press it. "All right, just...I'll do anything if you don't jump!"
Mike's curious nature prevented him from ignoring that statement, "Anything?" He mumbled.
She nodded, glad to have gotten his attention, "Anything!"
Well, this is interesting... "Anything?" He repeated, turning to her with a very disturbing smile on his face.
She swallowed. "An...anything,"
"Okay," he said, "come over here,"
She looked puzzled, "What?"
"Just come over here, huh?" He cocked his head a little, signaling for her to move.
She took a watchful step forward, then a few more. She stopped about four feet apart from the turtle, looking up at him worriedly. Mike just looked at her for a while, then sighed, turning fully around.
"I want you..." He looked up, "...to give me a kiss,"
She blinked, flabbergasted, "Excuse me?"
His eyes were like set in stone, his jaw tight, "You heard me," he said quietly, and she knew right away that perhaps she shouldn't mess with a guy who was two inches away from certain death.
She shifted her feet a little, then pointed to the ground, "All right. Come down,"
"Come up," he retorted.
"Yeah, right!" Her crooked smile was uncertain.
He shrugged, turning again, and she muffled a gasp, "All right, already! Just promise you won't do anything stupid!"
"Eh!" He gave a lazy, indifferent shrug, grinning as she stepped up to his level.
She stood there, only inches apart from him, looking down at her feet,
her hands folded behind her back. She looked like a shameful child. He
ran his fingers featherly light across her hair, and traced her jawline
with his index finger.
He paused, since he got no reaction from her, and lifted her chin.
Her eyes were dark now, almost as dark as his, and he forced her to
look at him. They never blinked.
"Janine," he murmured, "I don't know what you think I am, but I can tell you that I'm still the one I've always been. I never changed. The only difference is that you never thought these were my natural looks,"
She didn't respond.
He breathed, then covered her mouth with his, kissing her tenderly.
Her arms fell to her sides, and a muffled protest barely escaped her.
"Now I want you to kiss me," he hazarded, not pulling away from her. His breath was hot on her face.
Janine opened her mouth a little, about to say something, but instead
leaned in-- the microscopic distanse between them-- and her lips brushed
his carefully. Mike closed his eyes, and she finally kissed him. He put
his arms slowly around her waist, and slid his tongue into her mouth, tickling
hers with the tip.
She jerked abruptly away from him, so fast they both lost balance,
close to falling off the building.
"Hey, I thought you didn't want anyone to die!" Exclaimed Mike, a transparent smirk on his face.
She drew a breath, hurrying down again, shaking her head as if to get rid of the moment.
"Okay," mumbled Mike, "I guess you weren't prepared for that. I'm sorry,"
"Yeah, well," she mumbled back, regaining herself, "I've kissed you. Would you please do me a favour and get down from there now?"
"Geezum, I appologize. Obviously you didn't enjoy it as much as I did," he said, his voice stinging.
She kicked the dust selfconsciously, eager to stear the focus off of her own opinions, "You sound hurt," she interjected.
"Oh my, the freak has feelings," he snorted, "who'da guessed?"
She shut her mouth, opening it again, "Look, a deal is a deal. Are you gonna come down from there or n--"
The door on the other side of the roof opened with a loud creak.
"Oopsie, looks like the cavalry's comin'," said Mike, turning swiftly and jumping.
Janine yelped, rushing over to the edge. The ground below was empty,
and Mike was nowhere to be seen.
The following Wednesday, Stanley came rushing into the pantry while
she was putting the mops and the bucket away.
He was so enthusiastic that he collided with her, sending her head
first into the bucket. She spluttered, grabbing for it to get it off of
her head. Too late; the dirty water ran down her body, soaking her, making
her huff angrily at the ickiness.
She balled her fists, throwing the bucket aside.
When she saw the look on Stanley's face, however, her bundled fingers
relaxed. She couldn't lecture him.
"What's up, Stan?" She said casually, wiping the soaked hair away from her face.
"He's back! Come and see! He's back!" Stanley shouted with glee, running off, attempting to pull her with him.
"Who is back?" Asked Janine confusedly.
"Duh! Who else!" Stanley rolled his eyes and continued dragging her along.
"Stan--" she suddenly halted.
Sitting on a chair with Josie on his knee, completely surrounded with
eager kids, gesturing animately to match the exciting story about why he
had been absent for the past two days, was Michaelangelo.
He caught sight of her, and stopped in mid-sentence. Even though she
looked kind of comical, wearing rubber gloves and an apron, and covered
in dust and dirty water, the look on her face was far too serious to crack
a smile at.
"Look, kids, just gimme five minutes and I'll be back, okay?" He put Josie down on the floor.
The kids looked at him, then at Janine, then back at him, and grinned understandingly, "Ooohh! Woohoo!" and Morgan shouted, "When's the wedding?"
Mike got a goofy smirk on his face, but Janine still looked dead serious.
He cleared his throat, she thumbed for the exit, and he nodded. She
followed close on his trail.
"Look," he turned for her as soon as they got outside, "I hope you're not planning to throw me out just yet, cause I kinda promised the kids that I--"
"Last time I saw you, you were jumping off a building," she broke him off, with a hint of fury. His innocent grin and the shrug in mock ignorance aggrivated her further. "You working here again is not gonna happen, you understand that, right?"
"Have you told Elaine what happened?" He asked, looking her straight in the eyes.
She shook her head gravely, "No, I haven't,"
He smiled, clutching his heart dramatically, "Gosh, Miss Janine, I never knew you cared!"
She shot him an annoyed glare, "Oh, like she'd ever believe it,"
"Ah, yes, my life story surely is one of far-fetchedness," he mused, batting his eyes.
She groaned, and he stopped the antics, "Okay, what did you tell her?"
Janine moved her shoulders non-comitally, "I dunno...that you'd gotten a better job, that you just took off, stuff like that,"
His face was critical, "And that's what she's been telling the kids? Sheesh, make me sound like an insensitive jerk, will ya?"
She removed the rubber gloves and scratched her forehead, "So what in the world was I supposed to tell her?"
Mike scowled, "I dunno, but anything's better than that. You coulda given her a small fraction of truth; we went to a party, made some mistakes, things didn't work out, I decided to quit the job cause it'd be weird working around you..."
"Most likely, Mike," Janine muttered, "that's what she figures anyway. She hasn't been too happy with me lately. I think she was trying to set us up,"
"How perceptive of you," Mike remarked, "too bad mommy's little plan didn't work..."
"Well, she was unaware of a very important part of the equation," said Janine, somehow getting more pissed off with each word. Couldn't he just stop being so hard on her?
"Whoa, girl! No reason to be miffed," Mike said, frowning.
"Why did you have to come back?" She asked quietly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Listen," he paused, his voice softening, "I didn't come back to bother
you or nothing. I came back for a very selfish reason.
I wanted to see Elaine and the kids again and take one last look at
this place. I'm leaving town today."
She looked at him.
"Me and my family," he added.
"Great. Good for you," she said carelessly.
He eyed her sternly, "Hey, if you want me to leave that bad, I'll--"
"Oh, just go in and finish the fucking story, okay?!" She snapped, going inside again.
"By the way," he shouted after her, "the Wet Look really suits you!"
She slammed the door.
What started as "Just ten minutes, kids,", they managed to drag
out to nearly an hour, starting a game of cherades, which even Elaine joined
in on. Janine sat in a corner of the room, her back turned, and her head
sticked in a set of headphones to drown down the annoying noises. She was
sulking like a little child, ignoring them, but she couldn't care less.
Soon he would be out of her hair.
A cheer ran through the crowd as Josie and Michaelangelo guessed yet
another movie title correctly. Mike looked at Janine in the corner, and
bit his lip. Perhaps it was time to go.
"Great, Josie!" He said encouragingly, "But now I really must be going, guys! I'm real sorry! They have filed an emergency call to me from my home planet, and they need me," he reported, making a sad face. He stared at their let down faces for a while, then suddenly exclaimed, "Aww, come here, you guys! Group hug!"
Every kid cheered, and charged enthusiastically at Mike, wrestling him to the floor. He panted melodramatically, "Oh, you're so strong! I give up!" He grabbed two kids at a time, hugging them tightly, "I'm gonna miss you!"
"We're gonna miss you too, Mikey," sniffed Josie.
"Aww, don't be so sad," he frowned, "maybe I'll be back some day," he
glanced to the corner, where Janine had turned in her chair, silently regarding
the emotional moment, her headphones resting around her neck.
When their eyes met, she quickly put them on, facing the wall again.
He sighed. God, why does she have to act so damn cold?
When Mikey had eventually entangled himself from all the kids, said
his goodbyes and made them promise they'd be nice to Elaine, the three
of them went outside, Elaine literally dragging her resistant daughter
with her.
Elaine looked very moved, and her "tough lady" exterior cracked up
as she suddenly drew him close in a powerful hug, kissing his cheek in
a motherly fashion.
She nudged his chin gently with her fist, her voice thick, "Yer the best ever, kid," she smiled.
He smiled back, "You're not so bad yourself, Lainie! Just take care of those lil' guys, yeah?"
"Sure, but it's not gonna be the same, ya know,"
"I know,"
Janine looked up, suddenly realizing that he was staring at her, and she looked away, troubled. Suddenly he grabbed her in a hug, squeezing her tightly. Her body was stiff, unyielding, and he had to struggle not to cry. She swallowed, not moving. He finally let go.
"So long," he said, definitely hurt.
"Bye," she replied shortly.
He left, walking swiftly around the corner.
"Whatever happened between you two?" Mumbled Elaine, lighting up a cigarette.
"Nothing, mom," answered Janine stubbornly, monotonously, "absolutely nothing." She paused, "We'll find someone to replace him, it's no big deal," she ventured.
The air around them got thick with minty smoke, "No, we won't," said Elaine harshly, just as she had expected, "cause there's no one else like that, okay? I've gone through basically millions of day care helpers, and there's no one else like that!"
You don't know how right you are, mom, thought Janine darkly,
before going back inside. She couldn't stand the smoke anymore, or the
questions.
The trailer jumped up and down on the gravel path, but Mike didn't mind.
They had-- or he suspected Splinter had-- just decided to pack up and
travel out to Northampton.
Looking at his father, sitting crosslegged on the floor, he knew he
hadn't been very nice lately. He had the feeling that Splinter had organized
this whole trip for the sole purpose of cheering them, and mostly him,
up. His father had asked him several times what had seemed to trouble him,
but had received no answer.
Michaelangelo had been thinking for several hours straight, being uncharactistically
quiet, and was close to clearing up his mind.
It was stupid of him to try to kill himself, he knew that now.
Sure, life sucked sometimes, but he had to hang in there so he could
experience the good times.
If he had ended his life that time in the lair, he'd have never met
Stanley, never gotten a job in the day car center from Elaine, never helped
Josie cope a little better, never met Janine, never gone to the party,
never gotten his first kiss, reluctant though it was. And what happened
at the party would have ne--
Yes, there were both good and bad memories, but they were all his own.
He had known those feelings himself, not watched them in some movie. He
was part of life, even though he wasn't part of the typical society.
And when push came to shove, there was no way he could ditch his family.
They did need him. Badly.
He didn't know what the future looked like, and had no idea if what would happen would be horrible or good, or how it would change his life. All he knew was that he was damn curious about it.
He looked over at Raph, crouched over a newspaper, frustration and impatience
shining on his features. It wasn't just the long trip that made him grouchy.
Michaelangelo knew Raphael felt neglected and ignored by him, and that
he was taking his jealous anger out on Donatello.
Raph knew they had some big secret together, and he felt stabbed in
the back.
Whenever Mike had something on his heart, Raphael would be the one
to agree with him and understand.
That's just the way it was. They were best buds. Mike knew how it felt,
from the many times Raph and Casey had ditched him to go and "bust some
heads".
He grinned as he thought that perhaps Raph had learned something from
this whole ordeal, getting a taste of his own medicine.
Raphael growled something under his breath, sending Don a dirty look,
and Mike planned to have a talk with Raphael when they got to the farm.
He wondered what Raphael would think about all this.
Only five more minutes now, and they'd be there...
The End (phew!)
When your day is long, and the night
The night is yours alone
When you're sure you've had enough of this life
Well, hang on
Don't let yourself go
Cause everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong
Now it's time to sing along
When your day is night
Hold on
You feel like letting go
Hold on
You think you've had too much of this life
Well, hang on
Cause everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts
Don't throw your hand
Ohh, hold on
Don't throw your hand
You feel like you're alone
No, no, no you're not alone
If you're on your own, in this life
And the days and nights are long
When you think you've had too much of this life
Well, hang on
Well, everybody hurts sometimes
Everybody cries
Everybody hurts sometimes
Well, eveybody hurts sometimes
So, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on,
Hold on, hold on, hold on
Not, not, not, not alone
Hold on
Everybody hurts
"Everybody Hurts" - R.E.M
This picture is taken from Dawnatello's
site!