Thank you, Cynlee and ReluctantDragon! It's always a good feeling to get reviews. Especially reviews that give me warm fuzzies. Though, for the record, even if they were sphinx-like riddles typed in as reviews, I would cherish them because that meant you at least clicked on the same PAGE as my story to give me that review. …But yeah. No riddles. Excellent. I won't loose sleep tonight…

eh-hem. Sorry. I just meant to say, "Thank you for reading!"

In answer to Cynlee, the GOAL is to update at least 4 times a week on this one. It's pretty laid back…and I can't really look you guys in the eye and tell you there's some kind of phenomenal PLOT hiding in this fic… but hopefully it'll make y'all laugh and you'll come back.

So, that's a biiiig "YES" to Reluctant Dragon. There will be more. In fact, here it goes:

Attempt Number 002:

Mary Sue stepped off the TRAIN into the summer sun. The platforms between the trains lay under a heavy layer of soot and dirt, but the pigeons made happy coo-ings as they flew into the station hanger. Walking briskly with the commuters and tourists, Mary Sue entered the well-lit train terminal and breathed a sigh of relief.

She had made it! New York, New York! Clutching her leather sack of worldly possessions, the slim red-head in her Sunday best stared all around her in awe. She would start a new life here. This place called to her and whispered promises true love and perfect happiness.

With a cautious mind to her surroundings, Mary Sue hailed a ride. She put her leather bag inside and climbed into the car. The gentleman behind the wheel smiled and locked the doors. Beautiful Mary sat in the back until the car stopped at the driver's apartment, where she was subdued and locked in his basement.

She survived for a month. She probably wished she hadn't.

Attempt Number 002: FAILURE.

Lesson Number 002: Always check for a posted taxi-license before entering a cab.

Meanwhile, back at the lair…

"Aw, c'mon! You fixed it fer a reason!" Raphael vented his frustration with both volume and angry gestures. "Look. I know ya don't trus' me not ta break crap. Fine. But this is jus' gonna sit here until me an' Mike break it." Raphael's logic did nothing to comfort Donatello.

"How does that convince me to take a rest from doing what I enjoy to play against you—who just admitted he plans to break the game anyways!" Donatello looked up from the computer in front of him, equally frustrated.

Raphael leaned on the edge of Don's desk, forcing everything on the desk to scoot to the right. Don frowned and tried to push the papers back out of his way. "Look. You like logic. It goes like this. That thing you fixed, it's fer playin' on. Everythin' that gets played with in this place breaks—not always cause'a me—but every last anything you make fer us ta have fun with ends up in bits. We have a good time doin' it. Every time that happens, you git pissed an' sulk an' we don't get no more toys fer a while. Let's get ridda the bit in the middle where you get pissed. If you were ta break yer own toy, my butt don't get in trouble, AND you've had a good time."

Donatello looked uncertain.

"Come on, Donnie. If you don't, I swear, I'll break it by myself."

Donatello rolled his eyes, but grinned. "Fine, Raphael. We'll play foosball… but I've got the red team."