Donatello rolled over yet again. Sleep wasn't going to come easy tonight. He decided it wasn't going to bother him, and turned his thoughts to happier things - all the stuff he'd be learning at school. He didn't know what he'd be learning, or even what school would be like, but it was fun to guess.
Leonardo's voice came quietly from above. "Don - you up?"
"Mm-hm. Can't sleep."
"Me neither. You're not upset, are you?"
"'Bout what?"
"About me. The stuff I said tonight?"
Donatello started to say no, then stopped. "Well, a bit. Y'know, I was hoping everyone would just say what a great idea it was. But Sensei'd just say that was the human in me. You...you said what needed to be said."
"Thanks. I feel like a jerk doing it sometimes."
"Someone's gotta do it."
"Yeah, but does it always have to be me?" Leonardo asked rhetorically.
Donatello grinned in the near-total darkness. "How 'bout you - you OK?"
"What?"
"With the whole thing. Maybe moving?"
"I'm...trying to get into it. I don't know. I guess I feel like we finally have our little niche here, y'know? And now it's like we're going to have to start over again."
"Not all over again. Now you know what you're good at."
"Yeah, bossing you three around."
Donatello laughed quietly. "Besides that."
"What else is there?"
"C'mon, Leo. Aren't you the best problem solver of us four? Several times we've been in scrapes and I was getting ready to give up. But you always found some screwy way out. And you're born to lead - not just us, but anyone."
"You think so?"
"Nah - I'm making it all up so you'll leave me alone." He dodged to the side as Leonardo took a swipe at him with his pillow. "Leo, it's all up from here. Maybe we won't get rich or famous, but we'll be living real lives. And that's all I really want."
Splinter hung a towel and his good kimono on the two hooks outside the doorframe. He undid the knot in his obi, slipped out of his kimono and took off his loincloth. Splinter wasn't a big fan of showers ever since his mutation (the phrase "drowned rat" often came to mind), but he decided the occasion warranted one.
It wasn't a real shower, of course, but a fairly good makeshift one. Donatello and Raphael had installed the metal grating that functioned as a floor, a good five feet over the sluice. After a close call or two, they'd also put a railing around the three sides. Donatello had jerryrigged a water heater over top, and had set up a nozzle along with two levers: one for water flow, one for heat. The water heater was pretty small - as a rule, they stole as little electricity and gas as they could - but was good for a decent five minute shower. This wasn't any trouble for the turtles, who could clean themselves completely in three minutes flat. Splinter was somewhat at a disadvantage, since shampooing his fur was a drawn-out process. After a few showers that ended a bit too briskly for his taste, he had finally figured out a rhythm.
He let the water soak into his fur for about a minute, then turned the shower off. He reached for the bottle, poured out some liquid and began lathering up. Before putting the bottle down, he studied it for a second, then shook his head. Here is something I will not miss, he thought - showering with dishwashing soap. As he turned the water back on, he smiled a bit. I hope this is not a sign of going soft, he thought. But then again, back in Japan, I did not consider bathing a luxury, but a necessity.
He finished rinsing off, and turned the water off just as it was getting cold. He removed the towel from the hook, and rubbed himself down slowly. Replacing the towel, he put on a clean loincloth, then took the good kimono down and considered it for a second. It was black with green stitching, and had been a gift from his old master back in Japan. Splinter didn't wear it often, but he did look at it from time to time - it reminded him of his master, and he drew strength from those memories. He smiled again, and slipped it over his shoulders. He tied the green obi around his waist, picked up his walking stick, and pushed the curtain aside to leave the shower room.
Immediately outside, Splinter was surprised to see Donatello kneeling on the floor. Donatello held up a roll of bandage in one hand, and indicated the bench next to him. Bowing his head, Splinter said, "Thank you, my son." He sat on the bench and held out his foot, and Donatello began to bandage it up.
"Regardless of the outcome, tonight will be a large step forward, Donatello," Splinter mused.
"How do you mean, Sensei?"
"I feel that tonight, in preparation of this next phase, we should walk topside to Mr Samuels' house."
Donatello paused, looking up at Splinter's face. "You mean...?"
"We will exit the sewers by the alley manhole, and then walk there topside."
"Wow." Donatello resumed wrapping the ankle. "Is that safe?"
"I would not suggest it if I did not believe it so. I anticipate looks, and perhaps a few comments, but nothing more serious. Besides, this would be something that we must get used to, is it not?"
"Yeah, I guess it is. And something they've got to get used to, as well."
Splinter laughed quietly. "Quite so, Donatello! The sharpness of your mind continues to impress me."
This comment made Donatello reflective. "Sensei, do you think I'm smart enough? I mean, all of us - are we smart enough to go to a human school?"
Splinter didn't answer at first, but simply considered the question. As Donatello taped the end of the bandage down, he finally said, "My son, I do not believe your intelligence - or that of your brothers - would be at issue. You will have no problems learning what is being taught. If anything, you may find the teaching to be slower than you would like. Any concerns I have are of your...social skills."
"Social skills? You mean, being polite?"
"That is part of social skills, true, but that is not where I see the problem." Splinter, with the help of Donatello, got to his feet, and after tucking his dirty clothes under his arm, they walked back to the common living area. "You have spent your entire lucid life isolated from the world. You perhaps are not aware of the many ways that humans interact. And these lessons are perhaps the most important lessons for you to learn." Smiling, Splinter added, "Despite what you might think, what is actually taught in the classrooms is only part of a school's purpose."
"Really? What else is there?"
"Everything else. School is meant not just to teach you the subjects, but also to teach you how to behave as an adult. For instance, you will be taught many different subjects, in a variety of ways, so that you'll learn many ways how to learn, if you follow."
"Oh, so like when I explain something to Raph in a different way?"
"A good example," agreed Splinter. "Assignments will be given, so that you'll learn how to budget time, and work towards a deadline. You will meet other students, from many different backgrounds - some of whom might not be friendly toward you and your brothers. However, you still must learn to get along with all of them."
"Doesn't sound that hard," mused Donatello. "We got along cool with April and Casey. And we've seen folks on TV."
Splinter slowly shook his head. "Donatello, you recall your surprise when you discovered the characters on television were not, in fact, real people?"
Donatello ducked his head, embarrassed. "C'mon, sensei, that was years ago."
"Perhaps too long ago, if the lesson has been forgotten." Splinter leaned into his room, and put down his dirty clothes. "Remember, my son, nothing on television should be taken at face value - not the characters, not the actions, nothing."
"So it's all lies, huh?"
"What you see may not be false, but it may not be true either. Television should be seen as an entertainer, not an informer."
"Hm. So you think we'll have trouble dealing with the other kids?"
"I believe it very likely, especially since several other students will doubtless have trouble dealing with you."
"Like...like bullies?" asked Donatello, remembering the term. "Heck, after taking on the Foot, some teenager won't be any problem."
"Ah, you don't see the problem, then?" As they entered the common area, Splinter raised his hands to chest height, palms up and open. The other turtles, seeing this, got up to join them. "My sons, Donatello has brought something to my attention. I expressed some concerns that perhaps all of you would have problems dealing with some of the students at a school, especially the ones that had problems dealing with you. Donatello, could you repeat what your response was?"
Embarrassed, and not sure where his mistake was, Donatello said, "Um, I just said I didn't think we'd have a problem dealing with bullies or anything, not after taking out the Foot."
Raphael nodded. "Yeah. Not that I'm looking to scrap with anybody, but I'll bet word travels fast that we're not to be messed with."
Michelangelo looked unsure. "Hm..."
Splinter encouraged, "Speak your thought, Michelangelo."
"Well, that's kinda different, isn't it?" Michelangelo said, scratching his head. "Fighting the Foot, I mean. Those were enemies that we had to defeat. Someone who calls us names in the halls or somethin', that's...well, it's not the same."
"Precisely, Michelangelo. Anyone who criticizes you at school may be an obstacle, but that does not make them an enemy. Remember, even if you fight these students and emerge victorious, they will still be people you will have to deal with every day." Suddenly, Splinter broke off. "Come, we should be on our way. We must not be late to our first appointment in years."
Splinter indicated for them to stand in the light. They lined up, and Michelangelo said, "So, do we look all right?" as Splinter considered them each in turn. No one would've considered what they wore "Sunday best", but it would have to do. They all had put on the best pair of jeans they owned (no holes, even), belted underneath their shells. Each had put on an extra-large T-shirt (the only size that fit around their shells), and Splinter was pleased to see that Raphael had not chosen one with a punk band on the front.
Smiling, Splinter said, "You look very human, my sons, although I am not sure if that is a compliment or not."
Laughing, they headed out, with Donatello leading the way with the flashlight. Raphael's voice suddenly came from the back.
"Hey, sensei, if we're not supposed to fight the bullies at school, how're we supposed to deal with them?"
"As I said, Raphael," said Splinter, speaking loud enough so those behind and in front could hear, "they should be considered obstacles, not enemies. How do you overcome an obstacle?"
All four of them quoted the Art of War together. "Go over, go under, go around, go through.""Excellent, my sons."
Michelangelo slowly asked, "So, what's that mean exactly? We should duck through their legs and run?"
Splinter smiled and shook his head. "I wish there were one simple answer, Michelangelo, but each situation calls for a different technique. Imagine instead that there is a large rock in your way. Some situations would call for walking around it. In others, you might go over. In still others, you might pick it up and use it in some way. Don't forget - an obstacle can become an ally."
"So - try to turn them?" asked Leonardo.
"If the situation warrants. If you feel that they could make a worthwhile ally."
Raphael snorted. "It was a lot easier when we just had to kick everyone's tail."
"Perhaps, Raphael. But life is never constant, and it is rarely easy."
Donatello paused, pointing the flashlight at the ladder. Michelangelo looked back at Splinter's shadow. "This way up?" Seeing Donatello nod, he smiled. "So close to home, too!" He began making his way up.
"Not all that close," admitted Donatello.
Leonardo paused on the bottom rung. "So, what? We're going to walk topside there?"
"That's the plan, anyway."
Turning back to the darkness, Leonardo asked, "Sensei, is this wise?"
"It is perhaps something we need to get accustomed to."
Leonardo frowned, but he started climbing up to the alley. Splinter climbed after him, followed by Raphael and Donatello. Once Donatello had replaced the manhole cover and put the flashlight on his belt, he noticed everyone was looking at him, waiting.
"So," said Michelangelo, "how do we do this?"
Splinter grasped his walking stick and smiled. "We put one foot in front of the other, my son, just like always." Everyone returned the smile, and Splinter went on. "If you will lead the way, Donatello?"
Donatello squared his shoulders and headed out the alley, with everyone else behind. After a few seconds, he heard Splinter behind him.
"We are not going off to battle, my son. Relax."
He stopped and looked down at himself. His fists were clenched, and his jaw was set. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "You're right, Sensei."
Leonardo asked, "Sensei, what if people...say things?"
"They must likely will. But what if they do? As that woman says on the television program that Raphael insists on watching, 'that's their problem'."
Raphael looked surprised. "You like that show?"
Splinter sighed. "My son, I have trained myself to find the positive in everything, including prime-time television."
Laughing, Raphael put his hand on Splinter's shoulder. "Relax, sensei. I won't let it get around."
They weren't walking as fast as they normally would - Splinter wouldn't have been able to keep up - and that worried Leonardo. He understood this was something he had to get used to, but it still made him uncomfortable. He couldn't remember the last time he had been topside without his katana strapped to his back. The sun had set, which made him feel a bit more secure, but there were plenty of lights around to illuminate them. He continually scanned the area, looking for signs of trouble.
A woman with a child came down the sidewalk towards them. When she spotted them, about half a block away, she suddenly scurried across the street.
"Oh, man," murmured Raphael.
"It is an understandable reaction, my son," said Splinter quietly. "Do not hold it against her. Let it go."
"Master, it's insulting," insisted Raphael. "How can I just let something like that go?"
"You must. You may choose to be insulted, but the action in and of itself was not insulting. Many people will feel uncomfortable in our presence. If they choose not to deal with us at all, that is their choice. You cannot force them to interact with you." Splinter slowed to put his hand on Raphael's arm. "And please keep in mind, my son - the weight of resentment is a particularly heavy one. You should not burden yourselves with it if at all possible."
Michelangelo murmured, "Well, why can't they just deal with it?"
"She did deal with it - she crossed the street."
"Sensei, that's not what I meant," said Michelangelo, somewhat exasperated.
Splinter laughed quietly. "I know, my son. I was simply making light of a serious subject." He grew more thoughtful. "Consider. You have had your entire lives to become accustomed to your appearance. The woman we just passed had perhaps three seconds. Think of April. She now treats us as if we were human, but when we first met her..."
"...she was scared out of her wits," said Leonardo with a wry smile.
"An overstatement, perhaps, but yes."
Michelangelo didn't like the implication. "So you're saying that April's no better than anyone else?"
Splinter sighed. "Do not judge her, Michelangelo, based on what she did when she first met us. Naturally, she was frightened by us on first sight. You should know that I myself was horrified by my appearance at first. However, she was forced by circumstances to assess us for a longer period of time, and she realized that we were thinking, feeling creatures - we were human. She could have continued to turn a blind eye to these characteristics, but she did not." He paused as a teenaged boy walked by, eyes large. "Good evening," Splinter added, smiling slightly.
"Uh, yeah," the boy said, and kept walking."So... that's what we do? Just say hello to everyone?" asked Michelangelo.
"Or something similar. Our appearance may make people uncomfortable, but I would implore you to do everything you can to alleviate that discomfort. If you wish people to see you as human, you must give them every reason to see you as such. You must display as many positive human traits as possible."
"Like when I helped out Mr Samuels," suggested Donatello.
"Precisely. It would have been very easy for you to ignore the problem he was having - in which case we would not be out here tonight."
"Hey!" One man, sitting next to his friend on a bench across the street, yelled over at them. When they turned to look, he gave them a thumbs-up sign. "Great costumes!"
The turtles looked confused, but Splinter simply bowed towards them, smiling. "So what's that all about?" asked Raphael quietly.
"He believes we are wearing costumes. Remember, the holiday of Halloween is not far off."
"Wha-?" The turtles laughed, and Michelangelo said, "I guess it ain't worth ruining the illusion."
"Indeed, my son. Very little would be gained in explaining our situation to them. It is better to simply accept the statement as a compliment."
"Some compliment," Raphael scoffed.
"It is somewhat of a back-handed compliment, to be sure," agreed Splinter. "But again, it is easier to take it as such than to it is to take on the additional burden of resentment."
"That's it." Donatello waved in the general direction of Mr Samuels' house ahead. The rest of them gave it the once over as they approached the front gate.
"Well, you were right," said Leonardo. "It's certainly a fixer-upper."
Raphael snorted. "Since when are we afraid of a little hard work?"
"Since never," answered Leonardo, grinning.
Donatello opened the gate and led them up the front path. A light came on near the front porch, and Donatello spied Mr Samuels behind the screen door.
"Donatello?" he said, somewhat uncertainly.
"Hi, Mr Samuels. I've brought my family." He led them up to the front porch, where they all lined up beside him. Mr Samuels joined them on the porch, put on a pair of glasses and peered at each of them in turn.
"Yep, there does seem to be a family resemblance." He paused when he got to Splinter. "Well, with most of you, anyways."
Donatello tried to remember how polite people introduced each other on TV. "Mr Samuels, these are my brothers. Leonardo."
Leonardo shook his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, sir."
Mr Samuels smiled. "Likewise, Leonardo."
"Michelangelo."
Michelangelo grinned as he took Mr Samuels hand. "Hey, Mr Samuels!"
"Good to meet you, Michelangelo."
"...and Raphael."
Raphael tried to look pleasant, but ended up looking uncomfortable. "How you doin'."
"Just fine, Raphael."
They stepped aside to make room for Splinter, and Donatello began the introduction again.
"And this is our sensei, Hamato Yoshi."
"An honor, Mr Samuels." Splinter extended his hand. Mr Samuels regarded it for a second before clasping it.
"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't catch the name."Splinter smiled. "My given name is Hamato Yoshi, but my sons have taken to calling me Splinter. You may use that name if you wish."
"Splinter, huh? Sounds like there's a story there, but don't bother spinnin' it now." He waved them to the benches lining the porch. "Why don't you fellas have a seat. Careful, though - I don't know how sturdy these are anymore." They all sat down, with Splinter and Donatello closest to Mr Samuels. "Donatello, what did you call Splinter here? Your censor?"
They all smiled. "You're close," said Donatello. "Sensei."
Splinter added, "It is a Japanese word. It means teacher."
"So you're their teacher?"
Splinter nodded, but Donatello answered first. "He's everything to us - teacher, father, mother..."
"You've brought them up by yourself?"
Bowing slightly, Splinter responded, "I have had some assistance from some friends, but yes, I have mainly raised them alone."
Mr Samuels smiled. "Well, I've only chatted with Donatello here, but you seem to have done a damn fine job with them." Leaning forward, he grew a bit more serious. "So, Donatello here told me last night that you're looking for a new digs."
"That is correct. We feel it may be...time to move on from our present...home."
Nodding, Mr Samuels asked, "Got it. Rent getting too high?"
Raphael half-laughed. "Hardly - it's free."
"Free?" echoed Mr Samuels, eyebrows raised. "Must be a lousy place if you're looking to move out. What side of town are you on?"
Nobody answered for a second, so Michelangelo piped up. "Um, bottom?" The rest of them laughed, but Mr Samuels naturally looked confused.
"Where's that?"
"Underground," explained Donatello, pointing towards the ground. "The sewers."
Mr Samuels laughed. "Funny!" he said, then looked at Donatello's somber face. "Wait - you were kidding, right?"
"I'm afraid he was not, Mr Samuels," said Splinter. "My sons have lived down there their entire lives."
"What?!" said Mr Samuels, who still didn't sound like he believed it. "Actually in the sewers?" Seeing the nods, he added, "How can you live down there?"
"There's this area of sewers that isn't being used - water doesn't come in," explained Donatello.
"Yeah, but how?!" insisted Mr Samuels.
Splinter sighed. "It is not by choice, certainly. Some years ago, I had lost my job, and had no idea what to do next. I found my charges down in the sewer, freshly mutated, and soon after I found myself mutated as well. I had no money, I had what amounted to four newborns on my hands, and I wasn't ready to face humanity in my present state just yet. I found an unused portion of the sewer system, and we have made that our home since."
Mr Samuels looked rather uncomfortable with this information. "Well, I guess you do what you have to do."
Donatello, attempting to move the conversation ahead, said, "You see, Mr Samuels, any place is a step up for us."
"Literally," added Michelangelo.
"I know you said your place might need quite a bit of work, but that's no problem - we're not scared to get our hands dirty."
"Yeah, apparently not," said Mr Samuels. Raphael, offended, started to speak, but he saw Splinter make a quick motion with his hand. He knew what that meant - let it go. Mr Samuels continued talking, unaware of what had transpired.
"Well, you probably should see what you're getting yourselves into. I'm warning you, though - I've more or less given up housecleaning on a regular basis."
"This is perhaps where we may aid you," Splinter suggested.
"I'm counting on that, er, Splinter." Mr Samuels stood up slowly, grabbed his cane, and headed for the door. "Come take a look."
He led them into the entryway. Everyone looked around, intrigued. There was a large staircase headed up, a large but dusty living room to the left, and what was once a grand dining room to the right.
"Wow," said Michelangelo. "You've got an excellent place, Mr Samuels."
Mr Samuels looked doubtful. "Look closer there...Leonardo?"
"Michelangelo."
"Sorry - you kinda look alike."
Michelangelo smiled. "Most people can't tell us apart - well, not at first, anyway."
"Anyhow, Michelangelo, look closer. This place is a mess."
Raphael answered for him. "So what? We can whip it into shape."
Leonardo nodded. "If we can make the sewer inhabitable, think of what we can do with this place."
Smiling, Mr Samuels admitted, "You know what? I'm curious to find that out myself." He pointed his cane towards the dining room. "Kitchen's through there, 'f course. Donatello's already seen that. Got a decent-sized pantry, too; just not much in it."
"That part we're used to," Raphael added.
"Donatello said one of you was a cook...?"
"That's me," Michelangelo said.
"Don't mind cooking for one more?"
"You kidding? These guys are bored to death with my cooking - it'll be nice to cook for someone who hasn't tried it yet. Besides, I can't wait to try cooking in a real kitchen!" Michelangelo grinned. "Just lemme know what you like and don't like."
"Oh, I will - us old folks get kinda stuck in our ways. There's a fairly large bedroom down the way here." He led the way, and pointed. They took turns giving it the once over. "It'll be big enough for two of you," added Mr Samuels.
"It's bigger than any of our rooms now," pointed out Leonardo."There's a bathroom next door, but I'm warning you - haven't been in it for some time. Probably needs lotsa work." They peered into the second room. "I'll show you upstairs a bit." They headed back towards the front of the house. Leonardo paused in front of a door under the staircase.
"Is this a closet?"
Mr Samuels shook his head. "Nah - it goes to the basement."
"Is there anything down there?"
"Pipes. A few old things I can't bear to part with. 's about it."
Leonardo's eyes got wide. "Really?"
"What's up?" Donatello asked.
"Dojo?" Leonard hazarded.
"Hm. Maybe."
Mr Samuels spoke up. "What're you two babbling about?"
"Oh, sorry, Mr Samuels. Splinter has been teaching us ninjitsu...martial arts, and we were just wondering if the basement would be a place we could practice."
Looking back at Splinter, Mr Samuels said in a surprised voice, "You teaching them karate?"
Splinter nodded. "Something similar. I was a martial arts teacher before I came to this country."
"Before you came to this...where you from?"
"Okinawa. Japan."
Mr Samuels grunted. "Funny. You don't look Japanese."
The turtles looked a bit shocked, but then relaxed as Splinter began laughing. "Yes, I do hide my heritage fairly well, do I not?" They all joined his laughter, then reassembled at the foot of the stairs.
"Well, let's take a look upstairs," said Mr Samuels, sounding somewhat resigned. He hooked his cane over his arm, and began climbing the steps slowly, using the banister to help pull himself up. Splinter and the turtles patiently followed behind him. When they got to the landing, Mr Samuels waved to a closed door on the right. "My room's there - got its own rest room. Rather not show it to you - it's a wreck." He turned to the left. "Two rooms over here - one's good size, the other not so. That one might be good for one. Bathroom's between. And that door down there's the linen closet." Mr Samuels smiled. "And so ends the grand tour."
Everyone turned to head back down the stairs, but Donatello was staring at one of the empty rooms, lost in thought. "Hm."
"What is it?" asked Leonardo.
"Nothing. Just thinking."
"About what?"
Donatello turned to Mr Samuels. "Did you...it's..." Donatello waved his hand. "Look, forget it."
Splinter spoke up. "Please speak, Donatello."
"It's...kinda presumptuous."
Mr Samuels smirked. "Let's see if I think it is."
Donatello sighed. "OK. Mr Samuels, did you...don't you have trouble, going up and down these steps every day?"
"Not my favorite thing to do, but I can still do it." Mr Samuels stood proudly.
"Well, I was thinking." Donatello held his hands up. "You know, if you thought it was a good idea. If you did bring us in to live with you, then maybe we could set you up in that large room downstairs. You'd still have your own bathroom, and that way you wouldn't have to deal with these steps much."
"Hm."
Michelangelo glanced downstairs, then back up. "Hey, that would sort of put us all up here, too."
Mr Samuels frowned. "You know what? You're right." Donatello smiled, and Mr Samuels went on. "That is presumptuous."
Donatello looked contrite. "Well, it was just an idea."
"And a darn good one." Mr Samuels thumped his cane on the ground. "I'd thought about moving down to that room."
"But you haven't," pointed out Leonardo.
"'f course not. I didn't have four green youngsters to move my stuff down there before."
Everyone smiled, and Splinter said, "Are you thinking that you would accept us into your household?"
Mr Samuels laughed. "You guys'd be the best thing to happen to this house in many a year. Gonna have to make some phone calls, talk to a couple people, but yeah, let's give it a whirl."
Michelangelo whooped, and the turtles exchanged high-fives. Splinter waited for them to calm down, then said, "We need to decide on rent..."
Drawing himself taller, Mr Samuels said, "I wouldn't worry about that." He looked at each of the turtles in turn. "The important thing is that you realize what you're getting into." Splinter and the turtles looked at Mr Samuels intently, and he went on. "I'm an old man. That means I'm set in my ways. I like what I like, and don't like what I don't like. One thing I don't like is a loud ruckus. You kids are gonna have to keep it down when I'm around, clear?" Everyone nodded, and Mr Samuels continued. "Also, you say you're willing to whip this old house into shape if I let you live here, and I expect you to live up to that."
Again, everyone nodded, and Donatello added, "To be honest, I'm already looking forward to what we can do with this place."
Mr Samuels smiled. "That's what I want to hear." Turning to Splinter, he said, "If you and your kids keep this place in ship-shape, I think we can dispense with any other "
Splinter shook his head. "That's very kind of you, Mr Samuels, but I'm afraid I can't accept such an offer."
"Whazzamatter? Price too steep?"
"Mr Samuels, we can not accept something for nothing."
Snorting, Mr Samuels said, "Something for nothing? You think that's what this is? Wait 'til you see how hard I work these young punks."
