Midnight. The cold whispers of ghosts breath linger in the air. Blue flames disapear in shadows. Pot bellied devils wisp through the air in spiritless rags, rusted glaives laid loose in their knobby hands. They flare their flimsy nostrils and hunker along. The ground is frosty and forbidding. So it has been for many years. It is lifeless as the darkness, and empty as the air. So cold….
Raphael jumped and leapt over the floor of the kitchen. "Damn it's cold!" He exclaimed. Bouncing back and forth upon outstretched legs he eventually reached the refrigerator. "But pizza is warm, and I will soon be warm of the stomach. Ah ha ha ha!" He reached for the door, and touched another hand which had beat him.
"What are you doing up." A lilting voice responded.
"Curse you Leonardo, my brother! May your soul be slapped with hot swords!" Leonardo stepped from the shadows. His stomach as well had been talkative. He had come for pizza of the night.
"Ha ha. You are aware I am the master of Sword. Tarot cards aside, I am prince. You are lowly serf. Step aside serf, I am here for pizza!"
"NAAAAAAAY!!!!" Raphael waved his arms about. "NAY NAY NAY!!!"
"Say you nay?!"
"I say Nay!" Leonardo grumbled and crossed his arms. His brother was very difficult at times. He must find a way to placate him. At the same time, secure his pizza. "Naaaaaaaay!!!"
"Very well. We shall battle." He responded with a curt nod. "We shall pong!"
"To the Pong board!!" They leapt and danced away, far into the shadows. Deep, deep into the recesses of the subway, there lay a table. The battle table for all matters domestic of the turtle brothers. Pulling the heavy circuit breaker the quiet room blasted with light. Leonardo shielded his eyes from the flourescence. His brother retrieved the paddles from a box in the corner and handed him his weapon.
"Yarrr!"
"Yarr Harr!!" They took their places at the table and began the pong.
Pong…… Pa-Pong
Pong…… Pa-pong
Pong……
Deep into the night they ponged. Each pong ponger then the last. Until at last….
"Hello brothers! You are ponging I see, but breakfast is being served." Michelangelo appeared in the door way. The brothers turned their tired and sunken eyes to him.
"Mikey! The pizza!" Mike nodded and absently chewed on the steamy oily piece of cheese bread. "You are eating it!"
"I am." Leonardo and Raphael slapped the paddles against their heads, receiving minor bruises. "Ha ha ha! I am the flippiant little brother!"
"Ha ha ha! He is true!"
"He is!" And the matter was resovled with laughing and some hearty pats on the back.