Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT. They say tragedy is easy, comedy is hard; so I thought I would follow up the most tragic fic I've ever done with the silliest fic I've ever done. This story pays homage to one of my all-time favorite TV shows, Father Ted. I doubt many of you have heard of this mid-90s britcom, but those of you in the States can catch it on BBC America on weekends. It's one of the funniest shows ever, and has been a real inspiration to me.
a/n: Due to a FF rule that says all titles must be rated G (no exceptions), the "outside" title was edited. The real, unedited title is listed below. I personally don't think it's offensive, but I've been wrong about these things before, and better safe than sorry. All it takes is one spoilsport to...well, let's not waste any more time dwelling on this. On to the story!
Kicking Master Splinter up the Arse
Michelangelo sat in the kitchen, his head on the table nestled inside his crossed arms, groaning. To his right sat Donatello, patting his shell reassuringly.
"Take it easy, Mikey," Don said. "I'm sure it won't be that bad."
Mike sat up. "Not that bad? Not that bad? Don, he's been waiting years for an opportunity like this! He is going to make me suffer in the worst way possible!"
"You're overreacting. I know Raph can be irrational at times, but he'd never make you do anything you couldn't live with."
"Easy for you to say!" Mike snapped. "You didn't put itching powder in his bed! You didn't coat his sais with super glue! You didn't tape over the Ultimate Fighting Championship to make a home video of yourself reenacting every issue of the Justice Force!"
"True. And I didn't humiliate him at the Battle Nexus," Don added. He looked over at his little brother's stricken face. "Sorry."
Mikey groaned again and put his head back on the table. He cursed himself for the thousandth time for taking that bet. He was so sure he would win that he swore on his honor as a ninja that he would do anything Raph wanted if he lost. What was it Master Splinter always said about overconfidence? He couldn't remember. That was probably why he was in this mess.
"Ahem," said a voice so smug that it could only belong to one turtle.
"What is it, Raph," Mike mumbled.
"Why so glum?" Raph asked innocently. "It's a beautiful day! The sun is shining, the birds are singing…"
"How would you know?" Mike snapped. "We live in a sewer!"
"Well, if you're going to be in a mood, I'll take my leave of you," Raph sniffed. "Good day to you, sir!" He tossed a folded piece of paper onto the table and left the room.
Mike stared at the paper as if it was a ticking bomb. "Mike," Don said gently, "you have to read it sooner or later."
Mike sighed. He grabbed the paper, unfolded it, and read the contents. Instantly the color drained from his face, and he began to hyperventilate.
"Mikey?" Don asked.
Mike continued to gasp for breath, crumpling the paper into a sweaty ball. Somehow Don managed to pry it from his clammy green fingers and read it. His face paled as well.
"Mikey…" Don gasped. "You have to…"
"Kick Master Splinter up the arse!" Mike exclaimed.
----------
Mike lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He still couldn't believe what he had to do. He unfolded the paper and read it again. It said the same thing it did the first dozen or so times he had read it:
Kick Master Splinter up the arse
Take picture of you kicking Master Splinter up the arse as proof
If caught, leave Raph's name out of it. It was all your idea
You have 24 hours
Remember, your ninja honor is at stake
Mike put the paper down and groaned again. He got his assignment nearly two hours ago, leaving him only 22 hours to carry it out. He pinched himself to make sure it wasn't all just a dream; the sharp pain, coupled with the bruises on his arm from all the other times he had pinched himself, proved it was not.
Mike racked his brains trying to think of a way out of his predicament. "If only my legs were still broken from the final fight with Shredder," he said to himself. Suddenly his eyes lit up. He sat up on the bed with his legs stretched out in front of him, grabbed his nunchucks, and spun them as fast as he could as he decided on the best spot to strike. Maybe the shin…
What are you doing? A tiny voice in the back of his head cried. This is crazy!
Michelangelo stopped spinning his 'chucks and put them down.
Breaking your legs won't get you out of this! The voice continued. If you can fight Purple Dragons with broken legs, you can kick Master Splinter up the arse! Your only hope is to cut them off!
"You're right!" Mike said. He hurried to his closet and pulled out a hacksaw, but before he could get to work there was a knock on his bedroom door.
"Mikey? Are you in there?" Don asked.
"Yeah. Come in," Mikey said, throwing the saw back into the closet.
Don opened the door and walked inside. "How are you doing?" He asked.
"How do you think?" Mike snapped. "I'm dead meat! There's no way I can kick Master Splinter up the arse and get away with it!"
"Maybe…maybe not," Don said.
"Yeah, right," Mike scoffed. As smart as Donny was, Mike was convinced a solution to this problem was beyond even his brainy brother's capabilities.
"Just hear me out, Mikey," Don said. "Under normal circumstances, how likely are you to kick Master Splinter up the arse?"
"Please, out of the four of us, I'm the most likely candidate!" Mike said. "Like I said before, I'm dead meat!"
"I'm serious Mikey!" Don snapped. "Regardless of all your tricks and pranks, do you really think anyone, especially Master Splinter, would believe that you'd just walk up to him and kick him up the arse?"
Mike started to answer, then stopped and gave it some serious thought. "No," He finally replied.
"Right. So after you kick Master Splinter up the arse, all you have to do is act like nothing happened. He'll never believe you actually did it, not in a million years."
Mike waited for Don to continue, but it was soon obvious that he was done. "Pretend nothing happened? That's it? That's your brilliant plan?" He cried. "That's stupid! That's insane! That's…that's…"
"…your only chance at getting out of this mess with your hide intact," Don said. "Unless you have a better idea."
Mike glanced over at the closet, and then at Don. At the closet, and then Don. Once more at the closet, and finally back at Don. "Okay, we'll do it your way," he said. "But I still need a picture of me doing it."
"Not a problem," Don grinned. "I have a camera and a clean record."
Mike was stunned. "Donny…I couldn't ask you to do that…"
"You didn't," Don said. "Besides, what kind of scientist would I be if I didn't test my hypothesis?"
----------
Mike stood nervously in front of the door to Splinter's room, trying to gather the courage to knock. He was there for a good five minutes before the door suddenly opened and he found himself staring into the trusting face of his master.
"Michelangelo," Splinter said. "I thought I sensed someone out here."
Mike swallowed hard. "Hey, Sensei," was all he could get out before his tongue froze.
Splinter waited patiently for a minute. "Is something troubling you, my son?" He finally said.
"Well, um…" Mike stammered, trying to recall the speech he and Donatello had rehearsed. "I was just…wondering…how do you know if you've experienced something…uh…spiritual?"
"What do you mean?" Splinter asked.
"I think I might have had a vision or something," Mike blurted out. "Can you come and look at it?"
Splinter gave his son a puzzled look. "What sort of vision?"
"I think I might have seen an image of Elvis on the wall of my room. You know, the fat guy that sells used cars on late night TV? I was just wondering if you could take a look and tell me if you see it too," Mike's words tumbled out in a stream of nervous energy.
Splinter smiled warmly. "Of course, my son. It is good to see you finally embrace your spiritual side."
"Yeah, I'm all about being spiritual," Mike smiled.
"You have no idea how long I have been waiting for this day," Splinter continued. "How I have hoped and prayed and begged that some day my lessons would finally sink in…"
"Better late than never, huh?" Mike laughed nervously.
Splinter's eyes began to tear up. "…and now that it's finally happened, my heart…my old, fragile heart that could not withstand any sudden unpleasant surprises, especially if it came from a loved one, is so full of pride and joy…"
"Yes, thank you Sensei," Mike said quickly. "Can you come see it now?"
"Lead the way." Splinter said.
They walked across the lair. For Mike, it felt like a death march. When they entered Mike's room he glanced over at the tiny digital camera on the shelf, the one that Don had rigged to his laptop so that he could take the picture from the safety of his lab. The red light was on, indicating it was ready to go. Mike felt a cold chill run through his body; there was no turning back now.
"It's over there," Mike said, pointing to a brick near the bottom of the wall.
Splinter looked at it. "I am sorry, my son, but I do not see anything."
"Are you sure?" Mike asked. "Look closer."
Splinter leaned in closer. "I still do not see it."
"Could you look just a little closer? Pretty please?" Mike asked.
Splinter leaned over as far as he could, his rodent rump waving high in the air like a red flag. Mike bit his lip and…
THUMP
CLICK
Master Splinter slowly straightened up, the look of bewilderment on his face.
"You know, now that I look again I think it's just a water stain," Mike said quickly. "Sorry I wasted your time, Sensei."
Splinter didn't reply, nor did he move. Mike gently grabbed his shoulders and steered him towards the door.
"Well, I'm sure you're very busy, so I won't keep you any longer," Mike continued. He walked Splinter to the door and held it wide open for him; however, the old rat simply stood there, staring ahead with the same bewildered look. Mike had to guide him all the way back into his room.
"Thanks again, Master Splinter. Why don't you go meditate and I'll start dinner in a little while. How do grilled cheese sandwiches sound? Good? Great! See ya!"
Mike closed the door and ran into Don's lab, where the purple-masked turtle was sitting in front of his computer. "Did you get it? Tell me you got it!" Mike exclaimed.
"See for yourself," Don replied, pushing away from his desk. Mike looked at the monitor and saw a clean, crisp digital photo that had captured the exact moment Mike's foot met Splinter's rear end. "You're still in once piece, so I assume the whole pretend-nothing-happened trick worked?" Don observed.
"It worked like a charm!" Mike chirped. "Even I can't believe I did it! I can't wait to see the look on Raph's face when I show him this! Never again will there be any question as to who's THE TURTLE!"
"Okay, when Raph gets home bring him to the lab, and as soon as we show this to him I'll delete it from the hard drive." Don said.
"Okay, but print me out a copy first," Mike said.
Don stared at his brother. "Um, Mikey, do I really have to point out that keeping any physical evidence of you kicking Master Splinter up the arse is a very BAD idea?"
"I'll hide it in my room, and only bring it out when absolutely necessary," Mike replied. "Like if Raph says something like, 'I'm the toughest turtle in the world,' I can be like, 'Oh yeah? Did you kick Master Splinter up the arse and got away with it? No, that was me!' And then I'll whip out the picture and rub his big fat beak in it, and then he'll get all humble and be like, 'sorry Mikey, you're sooooo much tougher than me!' How sweet is that?"
"You know, Mikey, I can think of a million great arguments to the contrary, but it's easier to just sit back and say 'I told you so' when the whole thing blows up in your face." Don printed out a copy and handed it to Mike, who folded it up and tucked it into his belt.
"You worry too much, Donny," Mike grinned. Nothing is going to happen."
"MICHELANGELO! COME HERE AT ONCE!" Splinter's angry voice bellowed.
Mike's face turned white. He looked at his brother. "Oh, shell, Donny, what do I do now?"
"I don't know, Mikey," Don said gravely. "But there's one thing I do know."
"What's that?" Mike gulped.
Don motioned for Mike to come closer. Mike leaned in and Don whispered in his ear.
"I told you so."
----------
Michelangelo slowly opened the door to his sensei's bedroom. Splinter was standing right where Mike had left him, but the look on his face had changed from one of confusion to pure anger.
"Hey Master Splinter, what's up?" Mike said, flashing a weak grin.
"Michelangelo, I have given a considerable amount of thought to the events that have transpired in the last few minutes, and have come to a very disturbing conclusion. Before I go on, is there anything you would like to say to me?"
Mike had only one defense against Splinter's Angry Face: The Innocent Face. He had been perfecting it since childhood, and only used it in the most dire of emergencies. He quickly plastered it on. "No, Sensei, why?"
Splinter's Angry Face intensified. "I had hoped you would come forward on your own volition, but…"
Mike kicked the Innocent Face up a notch; his eyes grew wider (he took great pride in being able to dilate his pupils at will), and he turned his lip down and quivered it ever so slightly. For a moment, Angry Face and Innocent Face were on equal footing. Then the tables began to turn in Mike's favor.
"But…" Splinter faltered, his beady black eyes wavering before Mike's big round ones. "But…"
Mike moved in for the kill. "But what…father?" He asked in the softest, most vulnerable voice he could muster.
Splinter's face relaxed and he sighed in defeat. "Never mind, my son. I'm afraid this old rodent's mind is just playing tricks on him. I am sorry."
He bowed deeply, and Michelangelo bowed deeply in return. "No problemo, Master Splinter." He turned and walked towards the door.
"Wait a moment, my son, you dropped something," Splinter said.
Michelangelo turned around. His heart leaped into his throat as he saw Splinter picking up a certain piece of paper.
"Nooooooooooooooooooooooo" Mike cried. He half-ran, half-stumbled towards Splinter with arms outstreched, frantically trying to grab the paper before the rat could finish unfolding it…
Moments later and many miles away in a small neighborhood park in Brooklyn, flocks of birds fled from the trees, dogs howled and two bums, Marty and Joe, looked up in shock from the garbage can where they were digging for recyclable bottles.
"Holy cow, Marty, did you hear that?" Joe asked his friend.
"I sure did, Joe," Marty gulped.
The two men listened for a moment, but the peace and quiet of the brisk autumn afternoon was not disturbed again. "What do you suppose it was?" Joe asked.
Marty furrowed his brow in thought. "I don't know…but it kinda sounded like a giant turtle getting kicked clear into next week."
Joe gave Marty a look. "Have you been smokin' that funny stuff again?"
"A little," Marty shrugged.
Joe shook his head, and the two men went back to work.
THE END