Granduer.
They'd never know granduer of such magnificance.
Never know what it was like, to be accepted into the elite circle, to be accepted at all.
The tall, starched pillars of humanity stood imposing at the mammoth doorway, to dip their heads, tip their hats and open up the entrance, into a world that was stranger than any rabbit hole, more mythical and magical than any crack pipe's dream.
There seemed to be so much excess, so much happiness, in the whirl of silks and satins, in brandy and cigars, in wealth and riches far beyond anything they could control.
Blood splattered as Raph laid the final punch, spitting blood from his cracked lip, letting the starched penguin fall, flicking his sais against his belt, lifting up the poorly abused, defenseless girl, settling back down her tattered, raggedy dress.
Yes, he'd never seen such grandeur in his life.
And he was more than glad for it.
A/N: I must admit I kinda like this one, but I worry about the "flow" of the story. I was listening to "A Team" when I wrote it, and I must admit, it kinda fits.
What do you think? Glad to have me back? I know I'm glad to be here.
Rant, rave, review ... and research a way to keep the damn muse pinned down and safe. Don't want her flying away again, with apathy.
That dude's a douche ... ;o)