Chapter 3 - "That's ten extra flips for you tomorrow, mister!"

It was a calm Wednesday morning. The citizens of New York slept soundly in their beds as the warm sun peeked up behind the buildings. It would be hours before the sidewalks flooded with people, and the streets filled up with morning traffic. These few hours was the closest thing to peace you got in the city that never slept.

But it didn't apply to everyone.

Underneath the city, deep down the tunnels of the sewer, a certain mutant turtle awoke to the beeping sound of his alarm clock. He tiredly turned over on his mattress and read the digital numbers on the toy from hell.

5:00 am.

If it wasn't for the piercing sound he would have fallen asleep right there, just by thinking about how early it was. And he could swear the noise grew louder with every beep. Finally, Donatello lifted his arm and fidgeted after the button that would put an end to his misery. Once his room turned silent again he rolled over on his shell, his bloodshot eyes facing the carriage ceiling.

He knew what he had to do, even though he really, really didn't want to.

After giving himself an inspiring pep talk, he finally found the strength to get out of bed and prepare today's breakfast.

Splinter worriedly turned over on his mattress, trying to take advantage of the extra hours of sleep he rarely got. Yesterday, when he went to bed, the list had seemed like such a good idea, but today... Today everything felt completely different.

His sons had to manage morning practise all be themselves, and he didn't even know who was up for the job. He suspected Leonardo had taken it on his responsibility to supervise the others during training, since none of the other had shown much interest in the importance of practise. But even if Leo was the one to lead the session, he couldn't calm down. Because if the other three didn't listen to the eldest turtle when he asked them to turn the volume down, or even get him a glass of water, what could possibly make this situation any different?

And then there was breakfast. Sure, not many things could go wrong while making breakfast, but it wasn't like they had inherited loads of money from a wealthy uncle. They couldn't afford to burn the oatmeal, or spill the milk, like normal non-mutated families. There were so many things that could go wrong. Too many.

How would he ever be able to enjoy his lie-in if he couldn't stop worrying? Splinter nervously rolled over to the other side, facing his bedside table. If he listened closely enough, he could hear his sons' voices coming from the dojo. He tried to make out what they were saying, but because of the dojo being located on a different platform down one of the tunnels, he could only hear muffled words.

Finally, the old ninja master gave up and rose from his mattress. He put on his kimono and seated himself on the centre of the floor, his legs crossed and eyes closed.

If sleep couldn't get him through the morning, meditation had to.

Michelangelo studied his three brothers, lined up in front of him on his request. Sure, there had been some complaints when he asked them to, especially from Raphael, who had called the whole thing a power trip, but they had eventually obeyed him. He noticed none of his siblings looked very happy about the situation, and Donatello seemed to have trouble with keeping his eyes open, but Mikey wasn't going to let this bother him. In fact, he was unusually cheery today, even for him.

"Good morning, students," he greeted the others with a bow, just like Splinter did.

The replies came in form of rolling eyes and short words, a typical sign of irritation.

"My name is Michelangelo," he continued, patrolling back and forth in front of his groaning brothers. "I'll be filling in for master Splinter, I'm sure you all know him." He was met by blank faces. "Giant, talking rat that lives just down the ha--"

"We know him, Mike," Leo interrupted. "Cut to the chase."

"Okay, first of all, Leo-nardo," Mike said, stopping in front of the blue masked turtle. "A student must never interrupt his master."

Leo sighed inwardly. "You're not our ma--"

"Ah, ah!" Mikey made a 'no-no' gesture with his index finger. "You must not have heard me, sunshine. Now give me ten flips."

"What?" The eldest brother exclaimed. "Are you crazy--"

"You want detention, too?" Mike asked, his eye ridges rising.

Leonardo's voice died in his throat at Michelangelo's words. He couldn't believe his brother had even said it. This was not at all what he had imagined. He had pictured a couple of sit-ups and a lame pointless story Mike would share to teach them some weird lesson, but never this.

Raphael snickered at Leo's shocked expression.

Mikey instantly noticed this and turned to Leo's right, where Raph stood smugly. "You think this is funny?"

Raph's features instantly firmed. "Don't even think your little attitue' boost is gonna work on me, Mikey."

"After we've introduced ourselves to each other, you'll join Mr Big-mouth here for his back flips." Mike happily patted Leo on his shoulder. He then moved on to Donatello on Raph's right, who was two seconds away from snoring. "And then there's you." He stopped in front of the purple masked student, who's bloodshot eyes widened at his brother's behaviour. "What do ya think this is, a slumber party?"

Don immediately sobered up, his puffy eyes glaring at his little brother.

Mike, however, was in character and went on with his speech. "Didn't your parents teach you that it's rude to sleep on the job?"

"Well excuse me, Stalin," Don hissed. "But I've been up all morning preparing your breakfast."

"Was that hostility?" Mike said, dramatically putting his hand to his chest. "Didn't it sound like hostility to you guys?" He turned to his other two brothers, who didn't seem to share his amount of enthusiasm. "It think it was." He turned back to Donnie. "You better join the other two stooges for flip-lessons," Mike decided and turned around, leaving Donatello with his mouth open.

"Alright, so let's introduce us, shall we?" Mike turned back to his siblings again, watching their enraged faces from a safe distance.

Thirty minutes later, after the introductions, the flips and the mini marathon around the dojo, Michelangelo stood by the sideline with a tired Donatello, supervising his other two brothers as they sparred with each other.

Raphael took out the anger he felt towards Mikey on Leo, who not only didn't seem to mind, but also showed his amount of fury, although not as much as Raph, of course. Instead of being patient and defensive, Leo's moves were of the more offensive kind, egging Raph all the more to attack. Not that he could do much harm without weapons, another rule their brother insisted on introducing.

"Raphy boy?" Mike called, causing his brother in red to turn to look at him. "Easy on the rage," he commented, winking his eye at Raphael, who growled in response before turning back to Leo.

Raph hurled himself at his older brother, who used his speed to judo-flip him over his back. Raphael landed hard on his shell, Leo instantly on top of him, keeping him from getting back up.

"Alright!" Mikey applauded, causing everyone's heads to turn his way. "Nice finale, gentlemen. Although you really should do something about your anger, Raphael."

Raph, seemingly a tad pissed, pushed Leo off of himself, and they both rose to their feet.

"Okay, so kiss and make up," Mikey ordered, grinning wickedly.

"Hey, there are some things ya juz can't make me do," Raph said, angrily pointing at Michelangelo. "And incest is one of 'em."

"Chill out, bro," Mikey smiled. "It's a figure of speech."

"Yeah, well so is 'beat ya senseless'," Raph hissed. "But that doesn't mean I won't do it."

Mike's smile vanished from his lips, a little taken aback by his brother's threatening words, but then another smile grew right back on. "I think someone needs to brush up on his flips," he grinned, using his baby voice to improve the effect.

Raph glared fiercely at Michelangelo, feeling more anger boil up within him.

"Go on," Mike insisted. "You can flip away while your brothers engage in their own duel." Mike looked to his left, where a dozed off Donatello had closed his eyes, although still standing. "That means you, Don." Mikey nudged his brother, who's eyes instantly flew open. "You're up."

Donnie tiredly yawned, before strolling up to Leonardo on the mat. The two of them bowed at each other before beginning the fight. Meanwhile, Raphael angrily did his flips by the sideline, thinking about the many ways to get even with his little brother.

Michelangelo observed the entire thing from afar, happily waving at Raph before pointing out Don's slow movements.

Mike rose to his feet and walked up to the portable CD-player he had brought from his room, to back him up for his meditation session. He pushed the 'stop' button and took out the CD disc, placing it back in its cover. He then turned around to his three brothers, still cross-legged on the floor, each of them looking as if they had just sat through a four hour lecture.

"Okay," Mike said, fiddling with the cover in his hands. "That's enough for today."

The three guinea-pigs relaxed, and Don even let out a breath of relief.

"Oh, and if you think this rocked," Mikey continued, "you just wait until tomorrow, when I bring my 'Songs of the dolphins' CD."

Leo and Donatello groaned at the bad news, while Raphael got up and left, his fists clenched at his sides.

"That's ten extra flips for you tomorrow, mister!" Mike happily called after him. He then turned back to his remaining students, only to discover he was the only one laughing. "You may leave." He bowed to complete the session.

Both of them flew up from the floor and followed Raph down the tunnel, trying to think of reasons why they shouldn't murder their little brother in his sleep.

Michelangelo blew out the candles that were placed on the floor and put them back on the equipment shelf against the wall. He then unplugged his CD-player and lifted it up in its handle. He paused for a second and looked back on the two hour practise that just took place, before he stepped off the platform and walked down the tunnel leading up the living area, humming the chorus to 'My heart will go on.'

Half an hour later everyone had showered and brushed their teeth. The family gathered around the kitchen table, where Splinter eagerly waited to hear about this morning's practise. Donatello brought out the milk from the fridge and placed it on the rectangular-shaped table.

"Very admirable, Donatello," Splinter complimented his son when he took a seat with the rest of them. "When did you find the time to prepare this?" He looked over the table that had been set with oatmeal, fresh toast, tea, coffee, cereal, and milk.

"I got up an hour earlier," Don replied, while pouring himself a much needed cup of coffee.

Splinter took a closer look at his son that sat across the table, and noticed the visible veins in his eyes. "I see," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Well, I am certainly impressed, and it looks delicious."

Donnie tiredly smiled at his master's kind words, before pouring the entire cup down his throat, ignoring the burning sensation that followed afterwards. He figured it was worth it.

"Yeah, Donnie," Mike commented as he reached for a slice of bread. "Ya sure know your stuff."

Splinter couldn't help but notice the others' reaction to Michelangelo's voice. Donatello and Leonardo secretly glanced at each other, while Raphael intensively buttered his bread slice.

"Oh," Mikey looked up, all of a sudden remembering something. "Who's in charge of the bathroom?"

"Me," Raph answered, his teeth gritted. "Why?"

"Well," Mike began. "I was the last one in the shower... and I kinda noticed how dirty the tub was. Totally grossed me out."

Raph accidentally cut the butter knife through his sandwich, obviously doing everything in his power to keep his temper in check.

"Anyway," Michelangelo continued. "I just thought you should know."

Raphael's knuckles started turning white from the tight hold on the knife.

"Are you done with that?" Mikey asked and pointed to the knife in Raph's hand, completely oblivious to the deadly look coming his way.

All of this led to the same question the old rat had been worrying over since he first woke up. He couldn't hold it in anymore.

"How was morning practise?"

Leo happily opened his mouth, having waited for the permission to tell on Michelangelo since they seated. "Mikey handled it, and I don't wanna be a tittle-tale or anything, but I feel I should tell you that he went too far."

"That's the understatement of the year," Don added, while filling up his cup with more coffee.

"Oh?" Splinter's ears rose up on his head, and he put his tea cup down. He turned to his youngest son, sitting next to Donatello. "Is this true, Michelangelo?"

"Oh, c'mon guys," Mikey nervously looked at his brothers, while trying to laugh it off. "It wasn't that bad."

"Not that bad!" Raph outburst, knocking over his glass in the process, and spilling milk over the table. "You had us listening ta 'Titanic' during mediation!"

"Well, it's suppose to be relaxing," Mikey said, defending his choice of music.

"Oh yeah?" Raph questioned. "So what about that last track we listened to? I'm pretty sure that's the one they used when the ship went unda' and everyone ran around in panic."

"Yeah, that wasn't very relaxing, Mikey," Leo added from Raph's left, where he tried to save his sandwich from the growing puddle of milk.

"What?" Mikey innocently defended himself. "You didn't wanna listen to 'Free Willy', so what was I supposed to do?"

"I still can't believe you even have that soundtrack," Don said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Enough," Splinter ordered, causing his sons to fall silent. He then turned to his orange masked student. "Michelangelo, I hope you did not choose this task only so you can act cruel towards your brothers."

"Course not," Mike replied.

"Then I assume you will take tomorrow's lesson more serious. Power is not something you should take advantage of. It is there to keep order."

"Yes, sensei," Mikey nodded.

"Good," Splinter said and picked up his cup of tea. "Now let us enjoy the rest of this meal in peace."

The four housekeepers nodded and returned to their food, all but Raphael who got up to get the dishcloth. Splinter took a sip from his cup and looked at the fridge, where his list had been put up. He would have to take a closer look at that thing later. Who knew what else Michelangelo had chosen? For instance, he did not want that man to buy his food. After all, one can only survive on pizza for so long.

Michelangelo hurried towards the bathroom sub-car, stopping dead in his tracks when spotting his older brother hanging over the bathtub, his big, green ass blinding him.

"Raph?" Mikey cautiously asked. "You're not barfing are you? Cuz if you are, ya should probably move your business to the potty."

"Or..." Raph growled, turning his head over his shoulder to be able to look at his brother. "I could just shove this sponge down yer throat! Get outta 'ere!" With that, he bent back down, and continued to scrub the tub.

"You get outta here," Mikey countered, stepping inside the sub-car. "I have a certain number one that needs to be taken care of."

Raph was still scrubbing. "Do I look like a person who cares?" he asked, his irritation showing in his forceful scrubbing.

"But Ra-aph," Michelangelo whined, frantically stepping on the spot, pretending he was about to wet himself. "I can't go with you here.."

"Ye betta' not!" Raphael threatened, dipping the sponge in the water bucket to his left. "Go botha' someone else." He wringed the sponge with his hands, grimacing at the sight of the not-so-clean water pressing out between his fingers, knowing perfectly well where it came from. He then turned back to the filthy tub, scrubbing the dirt right off.

Mike halted in the middle of his little tapdance number. "They're all busy," he said, and walked up to the sink.

"Yeah well so I am. Now scram it!" Raph paused the scrubbing for a second, only to rest his cramping arm against the edge of the tub. "Sides, isn't that Leo on the couch out there?"

"Sure is," Mike confirmed, while admiring his reflection in the bathroom mirror. "But he's watchin' that 'Band of brothers' flick." He then turned to face Raph. "Do ya have any idea how long that thing is?"

"So go botha' Donnie, then," Raphael nonchalantly suggested, scrubbing himself tired.

"No can do," Mikey replied, turning back to the mirror. "He's sleeping." He then spotted the toothpaste on the sink, and a wicked smile curved his lips. He unscrewed the cork and squeezed out a tiny lump on his finger.

"So botha' someone else!" Raph snapped. "Mike, I don't care whattahell ya do, juz get outta my way!"

"But I really have to go," Mikey complained, screwing the cork back onto the toothpaste and putting it back down by the soap. "In fact, I think I feel a number two coming up."

"Mike," Raph said calmly, taking a break from scrubbing, although his back was still turned to his brother. "I'm two seconds away from shoving this bucket ova' yer head. So if ya don't happen ta like brown water..."

"Only because you said that, I'm gonna save up a chunk so big you'll hafta unclog the crapper."

Raph immediately turned around, the bucket ready in his hands, and the look in his eyes was everything but friendly. Mikey knew when to make an exit, and used his ninja speed to run for his life. He had locked himself inside his room on two seconds flat, and Raphael was left alone to do the rest of his cleaning.

After he was done, he rose to his feat, his back cracking from having bent over for so long. Raph took the bucket and poured the unsanitary water down the toilet. After flushing, he went over to the sink to wash his hands, partly for his peace of mind. As he stood there, his hands rubbed in soap, he noticed the little message his brother had left on the mirror - finger-painted in toothpaste.

You just wait until ya hafta scrub the toilet. You never know what y'might find there.