I'm jealous of the show for getting to come up with such cheesy…no pun intended ;o) … titles as "Case of the Killer Pizzas". So from now on, I'm going to give my chapters similarly goofy titles. This one is….

Trial by Pizza!

"I think you're in over your head, Mikey." Donatello said softly. The turtles were all watching Michelangelo get into his best pizza-eating frame of mind.

Michelangelo looked surprised. "Come on, dude, you've gotta be kidding! You really think the Shred-head can outeat me? At pizza?"

Donatello shrugged. Well, I've only seen Shredder eat pizza once – and it was when he thought he was you. I don't even think he likes the stuff."

"Right on, dude. That's what I mean. So like, he's totally out of practice."

"Right," Leonardo agreed, "But he's not stupid. He must know he's out of his league…unless he has a plan. You know he wouldn't have challenged you if he thought he had no chance. Splinter doesn't call him 'insidious' for nothing."

Michelangelo considered this, jogging in place again to work up more of an appetite. "Leo's right," Donatello seconded. "And Splinter doesn't run his mouth for nothing. Although…I can't imagine how you can cheat your way to victory in an eating contest..."

Michelangelo smiled. "So what you're saying is, the can-man can't have a plan, man. Right?"

Donatello rolled his eyes. Leonardo shook his head.

And against the wall, behind the TV where the light couldn't possibly catch him, Shredder melted further into the shadows and smiled.

The competitors were both staring at the mammoth pile of pizza boxes. "That's right, guys," Raphael said. "Twelve large pizzas. I think that should be enough, don't you? And maybe a little left over for the rest of us. Maybe."

Michelangelo looked delighted. Shredder, on the other hand, looked sick. Nevertheless, he sat down determinedly across the table from his opponent and reached for a box.

"On your mark," Leonardo said, fair as ever, "Get set…go!"

At the signal, Michelangelo tore into his box and stuffed half a piece in his mouth immediately. Shredder carefully separated one cheesy slice and took a bite.

Fifteen minutes later, Michelangelo was getting cocky. He was through almost a pizza and a half already, and still felt okay, while Shredder was just finishing his first pie. Still, since he kept losing time by cracking jokes and showing off his skill at twirling pizzas on his chucks, Shredder was still respectably close behind him. Michelangelo didn't like watching a human almost able to compete in the strictly mutant sport of pizza-scarfing, so he decided to quicken his pace.

Just to show off, he snatched up a whole slice and stuffed it into his mouth at once. Unruffled, Shredder folded his up daintily and did the same.

The other turtles were all bouncing around with excitement. When Michelangelo finished his second pie, he had to rest for a moment. "Come on, Mikey, don't let him catch up," Raphael warned softly once he thought the rest had gone on long enough.

"Raph's right, Mikey. Be slow and steady. Go for it," Leonardo encouraged.

Shredder swallowed before speaking up. "You need a cheering section to help you eat?" he asked scornfully.

Mikey snapped back before swallowing, giving everyone an unpleasant view of chewed up broccoli-and-ice-cream pizza. "At least I have a cheering section."

Raphael snorted. "Oooh, ouch."

Shredder gestured to the two equal stacks of untouched boxes. "They aren't helping you much."

Michelangelo didn't crack a joke back – he considered it answer enough to rip right into a third pizza. Within seconds, he had two slices stuffed into his mouth.

Continuing to eat steadily, Shredder waited for his opponent's inevitable difficulty swallowing before advising, "Be careful, turtle. I doubt the Heimlich maneuver can be used on those with shells."

Caught off guard at the can-head's first attempt to make a funny, Mike did almost choke. He was trying to simultaneously laugh, eat, and breathe, and he ended up coughing helplessly for several minutes. When he regained control and realized that he was actually tied in the contest, he began wolfing down pizza so fast that even Raphael had to turn away.

"I'm going to win, you know," Shredder said conversationally. "What you mutants fail to realize is that I am very good at stuffing my face with pizza. This is what we do after hours in the Technodrome. Every night. Bebop and Rocksteady both try to outeat me and they can't do it."

That image was so ridiculous that Michelangelo started laughing again. Shredder pretended not to notice. "Krang never wins."

And then Michelangelo was out of control – laughing hurt his abused stomach, but the idea that Shredder was making him laugh was so funny he couldn't stop. He wrapped both arms around his midsection and tried to breathe deeply but it just wasn't working.

"It's a good thing I'm not wearing my armor tonight," Shredder observed, inexorably continuing to chew and swallow. "It looks like Michelangelo is about to vomit, and the last thing I need is to get splattered and start to rust. It makes me squeak, you see, and then I have a hard time creeping up on people."

He was totally deadpan, but Michelangelo was in such stitches that he fell out of his chair and made no attempt to rise. "Please," he gasped from the ground. He was laughing so hard he'd started to cry, and the stomach cramps that laughing produced made him want to cry harder.

Knowing that this was the perfect moment to use his best weapon, Shredder mused aloud, "You've got chicken pizzas and sardine pizzas here…I wonder, why didn't you order any turtle pizzas? I'm sure they make them…"

The thought was so disgusting that Mikey's tortured stomach couldn't take it. He leaped to his feet and made for the door.

He didn't get very far. They heard him outside in the sewers, emptying seventeen slices of pizza into the slimy water. Shredder glanced at his box and his opponent's and counted the remaining slices. He ate one more, shoveling it in in two bites, and said shortly, "I win," before rising from the table.

A second later, he too ran for the door. Raphael closed it firmly behind him to block out the noise.

The next morning, Raphael was up early. He'd felt too nauseated to touch a pizza the night before, and he was hungry. After his breakfast there was still nobody else awake, so he headed to the dojo to get a little practice in. Leonardo thought he was the only one who would work on technique voluntarily, did he? Well, this would show him.

Raphael had just finished his stretching when…

"I know what your rat's plan is."

The noise startled Raph into drawing his sais and spinning around. Shredder was practicing modified kata in the corner, slow but surprisingly fluid considering his sling.

"Oh, really?" Raphael was annoyed. He had been trying to figure out Splinter's plan himself in the 9 days (but who's counting?) that they'd been playing host to the Darth-Vader-wannabe, and it was really the last straw that Shredder had beat him to it.

"Yes," Shredder answered without a break in his smooth movements.

Raphael stifled the urge to throw a sai at him. "Well?" he asked after a moment, when it became clear that he wasn't going to get any more of an explanation.

Shredder finished up what he was doing and then finally looked over. "The foolish creature thinks that by remaining here with you I will somehow catch your disease of do-gooding," he explained. "So you might as well let him know that I am hating you mutants more, not less, every day."

"Believe me, tinsel-teeth, the feeling is mutual." Raphael put his weapons away reluctantly. "I see you've worked your way back up to kata…when you're ready to spar and you feel like getting your tail kicked, gimme a ring."

"Not a bad idea," Shredder said thoughtfully. "But I will have to wait until I feel ready for a serious fight – I doubt you're capable of sparring lightly."

Although Raphael hated to have to ask, he had to know. "Is that a compliment?"

Shredder laughed. "I'm calling you a machine with an 'on' button and no other controls," he explained. "Take it as a compliment if you wish."

TBC. Thanks to all who reviewed.

Pacphys: Yup, I always had Donny figured for the medical type. I was going to have Raphael help out a bit, but I think he would have a little too much fun re-breaking bones to fix them! ("Hmm, and this other arm looks a little crooked too, doesn't it? Maybe just to be safe we oughta…")