Disclaimer: I don't think I need to put another disclaimer. There's one for this story on Chapter 1.
It felt like he was under an intensive audit, being watched as he started to work on the fridge, but he paid no mind to it. Donatello was about to mess with the main 'food-mine' in their household so it was normal for someone to behave like a silent supervisor, however irritating.
Raphael had approached him earlier claiming that the refrigerator wasn't working properly. There was a funky smell coming from it, he said, which meant Don has to fix it and get rid of the foul odor. On checking the fridge, the Genius discovered that everything was functioning perfectly, except for the smell of really stale food, hidden somewhere in the small over-packed refrigerator.
The purple-masked turtle groaned aloud. He was set-up by his brothers to clean the fridge, since he had skipped out on kitchen duty four nights before because he was 'caught-up' in an experiment and no one bothered to even do the dishes. It was Don's turn. The next day they were all told-off by Master Splinter for being neglectful ninjas and having a lack of respect for the traditions they were raised by. He also threw in some of his thoughts on how they failed to operate as a team; laying blame on one another instead of correcting each other's slack.
Perhaps he deserved this punishment. He got to work and started to remove the bottles and jars from the door, and placed them on the counter-top in a row. There his silent supervisor decided to break his silence.
"What'chya got there Donny?" Michelangelo questioned, padding over to exposed items.
Donatello was turning out some more stuff when he saw the younger turtle. "I don't know," he replied, waving at the bottles. "It looks like food from the fridge."
Mikey laughed. "Good one, Bro. I didn't see that coming. You figured us out, didn't ya?"
Don ignored the question and continued to cant out the cold food stock. Instead he asked, "What do you want, Michelangelo?"
"I'm here to help..."
Don paused. His hand hovered over the quarter filled Hershey's Chocolate Syrup. Did he hear correctly? Michelangelo helping?
"By keeping inventory," the mutant added with a smirk.
Donatello scoffed. "Whatever. Just don't be a pest."
And as he expected his warning went unnoticed. The orange-masked ninja began arranging the food by calling out his categorizing process, while the Genius continued to excavate the appliance.
"Half empty jar of Nutella, you sit here by the peanut butter with the strawberry jam and the Hershey's Chocolate, and maple syrup. I'll put the caramel syrup here too -"
"Mikey," Don butted in as he shoved a small container into the other turtle's hands. There was one left-over waffle inside of it. Most likely stored there by Leonardo. One cannot afford to look greedy. "Must you think out loud?"
"Shhh. It's a process," Mike replied. "Now for these few olives here. We've got pickles, capers, ketchup, mustard, mayo, one slice of Kraft Cheddar...Don, I think we need to go to the grocery store. At least we have a good bit of Sriracha left and a teaspoon's worth of 'I Can't Believe it's Not Butter'. Who bought this? What's wrong with butter? Who is so gullible to believe that this here is not real butter? "
Donatello sighed and shook his head in resignation. He tried to drown his brother out by sticking his head into the fridge, but that method failed. "Who do you think, Einstein? April shops for us and I think she tries to look after our health - which is hardly necessary."
"Hmmm. What you got for me next?"
Don handed over a glass bottle filled with green, runny stuff that smelled like culantro - not cilantro, and Mikey exclaimed, "Here's my heavenly Chadon Beni sauce!"
"Here, take the condensed milk too, you weirdo."
"Sweet!"
Mikey chatted on rapidly, staying consistent in taking the items from Donatello's hands and lining them up around the kitchen.
As it were, the counter-top reminded Don of April's vanity top sink. It was littered with oddly shaped perfume bottles, anti-aging lotions, body lotions, smelly bath salts, different brands of shampoo and hair removal creams. She also had hair spray, toothpaste and nail polish piled on there, all making up a collapsible mountain. Then again, the counter-top fared a little better.
"One slice of roast beef. Some stinky old salami; toss. Two pieces of ham, two slices of turkey, chicken from Wednesday night's dinner... Why do we have one or two slices of everything? I need more. Where are the eggs?"
The fridge-cleaner muttered darkly inside the safety of the fridge and passed the last three eggs to the inventory-taker.
"I think we'll be eating pizza for the next few days," he announced, shuffling off to another section of the kitchen.
Way in the back Don found a large-sized lid container and he cracked the cover to peek at the contents. Huge mistake. His beak was assaulted by a rotted, onion-infused aroma and inside sat a clump of muddy mush. The terrapin snapped the lid back on and dumped the entire thing into the bin. He tossed three other containers with fungi colonies and cursed himself for not growing them himself. He took one back out of the bin to save for later because penicillin is a miraculous thing and it shouldn't be wasted.
He reached back inside for the next item and held it outside for Michelangelo to take without emerging from the refrigerator. When the ninja didn't take the box from him, he backed out and stood up. "Mikey?" He looked around for the missing ninja.
"Yeah,"The turtle answered from near the stove-top. Then there was the sound of a soft crack, followed by crackling.
"Michelangelo!"
Mike was unconcerned, ceremoniously poking at the edges of the gooey egg yolk with a spatula. "Oh. Sorry, Dude. I just had to complete my masterpiece," he stated, pointing at a tower of layered bread slices with a lone waffle set in the middle. The slices were flattened and a range of sauces leaked down the sides over the edges of different meat.
"I call it the 'Leaning Sandwich of Pisa'," he explained, "and I had to squish them down to stop it from toppling over so it's not leaning now..."
"Ugh! I should have known," the Genius grumbled, eyeing the skyscraper sandwich under construction. "I hope it makes you sick," he said, and then he walked away with his bowl of fungi.
The orange-masked ninja gasped. "I revoke that in the name of Battle Nexus!"
"Shut up."
What? Don't judge me.
Pålegg - is Norwegian for anything and everything that you can put on a slice of bread.