Chapter 4 - "One can not be the best at everything."
Michelangelo cheerfully strutted around the lair, a watering can held in his grip, while at the same time singing 'My heart will go on' to anyone who would listen. Sadly, he didn't know the lyrics all to well, so he made up for the words he couldn't remember, replacing them with whatever word or sound that rhymed even the tiniest.
"Far across the distance, and spaceships between us, you have come to show you move on," Mike sang, while waltzing up to the fern by the stairs.
Leonardo, positioned on the couch with a sai in his hands, tried to block his little brother out, at least enough to be able to watch the movie. It was more than obvious that Mikey was getting to him, since he polished the steel so intensely that it almost burned him. But, wanting to live up to his rumor, Leo swallowed hard to maintain his patience.
Raph, also present in the room, sat on the floor by the TV, surrounded in DVD's, videotapes and video game cases. He had gotten the fancy job of putting everything where it belonged, meaning; he had the honors to rewind all their tapes and put them in their right cases. Since Mike was the one who used these things the most, none of them were where they were supposed to be. And the fact that the same person danced around the living room didn't make Raphael like him much more. He wanted more than anything to shove one of the tapes down Mike's throat, but he had decided not to let him bother him anymore. After all, that was what Mikey wanted - attention.
Mike tipped the can over the plant, lifting up his leg behind him while watering it, pretending he was one of those angel statues. After all, he was kind of like an angel, a very green, pizza craving angel... but at least he was naked. While holding his artistic pose, he never forgot to sing, being the most important job when you were a naked angel.
"Near far, wherever you are, I believe that the heart does go on. Once more... nah nah on the floor--"
"Could ye for once juz shaddup!" Raph yelled, not being able to ignore the singing and dancing any longer.
Mike jumped at the sudden voice, spilling some water onto the bottom steps, before he turned around to see what the problem was.
"What is wrong with you?" Raph asked, putting one of Mike's 'Jackass' tapes to the side.
"I'm singing," Mike answered, as-a-matter-of-factely.
"Yeah? Well a little word of advice, Celine. Move yer concert elsewhere - or this'll be yer last one," Raph scolded, picking up another unlabeled videotape for inspection.
"But I'm already done with Splinter's room," Mikey explained.
"So then stop singing," Leo joined the conversation. "God, you can't even get the words right.. There is nothing in that song about any floors. And.. 'spaceships between us'? Think a little!" Leo felt his tense body relaxing slightly, after finally letting the truth out in the open.
"So what if I don't know the words." Mikey shrugged his shoulders. "It's not like anyone does." He then walked up to Leo, stopping a few feet behind the couch. "And about that, why is it that you know 'em?"
Leo buried his face in his hands, searching deep inside himself for that extra strength you stored for emergency situations only.
"You're still upset about this morning," Mike realized, nodding his head in understanding, "aren't ya?"
"Of course I am!" Leo exclaimed, looking up at his brother. "But that's not what this is about, Mikey."
Michelangelo thought to himself for a moment, before looking back to Leonardo; puzzled. "Then what is it?"
Leo grunted in frustration, looking up at the ceiling for any kind of help he might find.
"Mike," Raph said, looking up from the floor. "Yer prancin' aroun' the living room like some sugar high fruit - whattahell do ya think it's about?"
"Chill out, Raph," Michelangelo said, holding up his hands and watering can in defence. "It's not like I'm hurting anyone."
"That's funny," Raph said sarcastically. "Cuz I could think of at least two people in pain."
"Okay, okay I get it - no more singing. Geez, I was only doing my chores," Mike said, before turning to Leo. "Speaking of chores, when are ya planning on serving lunch, Leo? I'm starving."
Leonardo turned to look at Mikey, irritation playing on his features. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
Mikey glanced at the TV, where 'Band of brothers' still took place. "Y'know ya could just pause and watch it later."
Leonardo frantically motioned to the weapons lying on the couch, some of them polished, and some of them not.
"Oh," Mike realized. "Well... so take a break. It's not like they're going anywhere."
"Replacing one chore with another is not a break," Leo slowly pointed out.
"True," Mike agreed. "But at least you'll get to eat when lunch is done," he added, thinking it was the smartest thing in the world.
"You mean, you get to eat," Leonardo corrected.
"You.. me.. What's the difference?" Mikey shrugged. "We could all go for some food."
"Fine," Leo surrendered, shoving the pile of weapons to the side and rising to his feet. "But only to get you off my back." He pointed accusingly at Michelangelo, who just smiled happily. With that, Leonardo turned off the movie and stomped into the kitchen, leaving his other two brothers alone in the living room.
"Y'know we'll getcha' for this, right?" Raphael spoke from the floor, not even looking up from the mess.
Michelangelo quietly swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing from experience to take Raph's threats seriously. Even though he would forever look back to his morning practise with a grin on his face, he began wondering if it was really worth it.
Leo walked up to the fridge, where Splinter had put this week's for-lunch-and-dinner schedule. He read that today's lunch was potatoes and fried hotdogs.
That shouldn't be so hard, he thought positively to himself.
He then searched the almost empty fridge for the supplies he would need. After placing the hotdogs, potatoes, and the margarine on the counter, Leo opened one of the bottom cabinets for a frying pan and saucepan. He then dropped the potatoes into the sink, where he began peeling them, and being a perfectionist of the worst kind, the job sure took its sweet time. But after he was finished, the naked potatoes didn't have the smallest trace of peels left on them.
Leo smiled proudly to himself, admiring his perfectly peeled potatoes. He then walked up to the stove and dropped the potatoes into the boiling water, one by one, causing some hot water to splash up on his arm.
"Ow!" Leo cried in pain, grabbing his right lower arm. He inspected the wound and found a small piece of burned skin. Biting his cheek, Leo walked up to the sink and cooled off his injured arm under the tap. He relaxed once the cold water started having its effect, and soon decided he was chipper enough to continue with his task.
He then washed the turner spatula under hot water, removing last night's dinner. When he decided it was clean enough, he used his choice of weapon to cut off a slim piece off of the margarine. He tossed the sliver into the frying pan, and it started frizzling immediately, indicating there was enough heat to fry the hotdogs. Leo grabbed a slimy sausage and placed it carefully in the pan, repeating the procedure several times, until he felt brave enough to toss a hotdog. The second the food landed in the frying pan, the margarine made a sizzling sound and shot a squirt of steaming butter onto his face.
"Nghh!" Leo hissed and grabbed onto his sore cheek, tentatively caressing it while walking towards the sink again. He quickly turned on the water and lowered his head to the sink, only to have hot water shower his face, from when he washed the turner spatula.
"Aah!" he shrieked, stumbling backwards in shock. He then got a grip of himself and turned off the water, deciding his face could survive with another wound to the collection. Just then Leo smelled something unsettling. Once realizing what it was, he ran up to the stove and turned over the hotdogs, only do discover their much, much darker side.
His frown grew tremendously, not being used to failing at anything. He was always the one who mastered the latest trick Splinter taught them, or aced the five page long test they had to write. And of all the things he could've failed at, who knew cooking would be it?
There was a strange silence at the table, no one feeling brave enough to comment on the half black, half red hotdogs. Instead, everyone focused on their own plate, eating in silence. The maddening sound of the knives cutting into the porcelain was the only thing audible, and unless someone said something soon, it would drive them all insane.
Michelangelo slid his fork into the crumbly potato, witnessing it falling apart like a crappy built sandcastle on a hot summer day. He spotted Donatello smiling in the corner of his right eye, and turned to return the favor.
"Why not just come out and say it?" Leonardo outburst, putting down his fork to the table.
The three brothers shared worried glances with each other, no one wanting to volunteer to take the first hit.
"I. Can't. Cook," Leo announced dramatically. "Okay, so I'm not always perfect, but that's no reason to laugh behind my back."
"One can not be the best at everything, my son," Splinter comforted, turning to look at his oldest son, sitting to his right.
"Y'know, there's a difference at not always bein' the best and sucking beyon' all limits," Raph sniggered to Leo's right, not being able to hold it in any longer.
"Raphael," Splinter scolded. "Once you have finished eating your lunch, you will perform ten flips."
Raph nodded at his sensei before turning back to his plate, angrily sticking his fork through the crispy surface of the black hotdog.
Splinter turned back his attention to Leonardo, who's broken spirit stared obsessively at his plate. "You should all know only practise makes perfect," he said, glancing at Michelangelo.
Mikey took the hint about his this morning's slavery, and lowered his eyes from his master's gaze.
"I'd rather not wait that long," Leo mumbled. "Can't someone else do lunch, and I'll take their chore?" Leonardo glanced around the table.
"It is entirely up to you," Splinter said, having decided to stay out of this as much as possible. "However, I advise you to stick with what you first chose. One of the hardest lessons in life is to learn to never give up, even when the road is difficult."
"I agree," Leo nodded at his master. "But perhaps things would work better if everyone did what they knew."
"Wait a minute?" Donatello spoke up, squinting his eyes at the blue masked turtle. "You wanna switch with one of us?"
"I just thought that since me serving lunch was kind of a disaster, and Mikey's morning practise could've gone better--"
"Whow, hold it there, dude," Michelangelo interrupted. "I'm not switching with anyone."
"I know you don't want to, Mike," Leo said, calmly. "But honestly--"
"No," Mikey exclaimed. "I'm not switching. Is that what this is all about? You wanting to take over morning practise?"
"Of course not," Leo said, while trying to keep his voice down. "I just think it would make things a little easier for all of us. Don't you?"
"No," Mike replied instantly.
Donatello and Raphael watched the conversation with great interest, liking the direction where it headed. Leo taking over their training meant; no more being whipped around. And the fact that they could avoid Mikey's mediation session with dolphins screaming in the background, well that pretty much made up for the tacky lunch they were forced to eat.
"C'mon, Mikey," Leo smiled slightly. "You know as well as I do, we would all be a lot better off in a world without my food and your terrorism."
"I don't care how gross your food is," Mike persisted. "I'm not switching."
"Well..." Leo thought to himself for a moment. "What if we vote about it?"
Donnie and Raph lit up like a couple of kids on Christmas morning, enjoying every syllable of Leo's last sentence. All but Mikey turned to look at the resident decision maker.
"I would rather have you solve this on your own," Splinter said, noticing Michelangelo sulking at the other end of the table.
"But voting is still us solving it by ourselves, isn't it?" Don questioned, staring at his master with hope gleaming in his eyes.
Splinter turned to look at his other two sons, who even they held a scary resemblance to puppy dogs. "I suppose it is," he surrendered.
"Fine," Leo spoke up. "Then all who's for Mike serving lunch and me leading morning practise," he rose his right arm in the air, Don and Raph quickly following his example.
Mikey only crossed his arms in protest.
"Okay, so that's that." Leo smiled. "I guess that means you're cooking tomorrow, Mikey."
"This is so unfair," Michelangelo objected. "I didn't get to say anything."
"Well, you sort of didn't have to, Mikey," Donnie pointed out. "The voting pretty much said it all." The three voters smiled happily at each other, knowing they never had to live through this morning's night mare again.
"Oh, you are so gonna regret dumping me for Leo," Mike told them. "One session with this dude," he pointed to Leo across from him, "and you'll come craaawling back to me."
"We'll see about that, Mikey," Leo said smugly, before returning to his food, knowing he never had to eat anything as disgusting again.
After having cleaned up in the kitchen and done the dishes, Leo plopped down on the couch to pick up where he left off. He polished Raphael's other sai while enjoying the company of 'Band of brothers.'
For the first time in a very long time, he felt his life was finally running on the right track. He would no longer suffer from his younger brother's sadistic behaviour in the dojo, nor cook another meal ever again, well.. unless it was a matter of life and death, or if he was really hungry, but other than that - never again. Instead he could just sit here and watch the movie he had longed to watch for months, and there wasn't a thing in the world that could take that away from him.
Just then, Leo's peaceful moment was interrupted by loud snoring coming from the other end of the couch.
Leo turned to find a curled up Donatello there, his head resting on his arm. Leo nudged him carefully with his left foot, without any signs of life coming from the turtle. So he poked a little harder - still no response. Finally, Leo practically kicked Don in his ass, only resulting in the snoring reptile to stir slightly.
"Donnie?" Leo questioned, but as several seconds passed without an answer, or any signs implying that he'd even heard him, Leo decided to leave his brother alone and return to the movie.
A war took place in a European forest, that was completely covered in white snow, and the extras died like flies trapped in glass jar. And through all this, the only thing he could hear was Donatello snoring. And as another ten seconds of wheezing and choking passed, Leo couldn't take it anymore.
"Don!" He threw the remote control square in his sleeping brother's face.
"Wha..? What is it?" Donnie woke up with a start.
"You're snoring so loud I can't even hear the movie," Leonardo informed.
"So you threw the remote at me?" Don asked upset, the object held in his hand.
"I tried everything else and you didn't wake up," Leo explained. "Are you okay? Maybe you should head to bed."
"I slept all the way to lunch," Don replied, and reached out to place the remote control on the coffee table.
"So maybe you should sleep some more," Leo suggested, "in your bed," he added after Donatello started making himself comfortable on the couch again.
"Fine." Donnie sat up and yawned, stretching his arms to get his blood circulation kicking again. He got up and walked tiredly towards his room, only to be interrupted halfway there.
"Oh, and I almost forgot," Leo began. "I filled the trash when I cleaned up after lunch, so you should probably empty them before the flies settle."
Don's shoulders slumped five inches below their usual position, as he was forced to change his direction to the kitchen sub-car, instead of his warm bed. He dragged his heavy feet over to one of the bottom cabinets.
As he opened the cabinet door a gazillion potato peels washed over his feet.
Don bent forward with a grunt to put the icky leftovers back in the trash bin. Then, after being forced to shove his entire arm down the pile of various garbage, to keep the peels from attacking him again, Donnie lifted the bag and closed the cabinet.
He then left the kitchen and walked towards the stairs leading up to the exit ladder. But as he climbed the bottom step, he slipped on the water Mikey spilled earlier when he was watering the plants, and Don fell hard on his shell. Most of the garbage in the bag spread across the concrete floor.
"Are you all right?" Leo asked from the couch, smothering a smile that threatened to break out at any moment. The image was just too funny; Don lying on the floor in the middle of a huge pile of potato peels.
"I'm fine," Donnie mumbled, when getting back up on his two feet. He then spent the following minutes of his life picking up and shoving down potato peels down the garbage bag, and this time he made sure to tie it together properly to keep it from happening again.
After discovering a bruise on his left thigh and eventually climbing the exit ladder, the sleepwalking turtle began his long journey through the smelly sewers to the city dump.