Disclaimer: We don't own the ninja turtles, just some harmless borrowing to write a little fan fiction.

A/N: Thanks a bunch for all the lovely reviews. Considering how funny you guys seem to find this, maybe we ought to change the category to humor? LOL We're as excited about where this is going as you are, and truth to be told: Does anyone know? Either way, hope you enjoy this chapter, as well. Don't forget to leave that review. Thank you.

Chapter 4 written by Melodist and Isis-Lament. Go read their stories.

CUATRO

Melodist:

(Raphael's POV)

"What the hell d'yah mean it's not enough?"

"S'not enough." The little stoner repeated to my frustration, shrugged his shoulders and blew another pink bubble with his gum. He picked up a magazine that featured both a car and a bikini-clad woman on the front cover that he'd only be able to afford in his dreams, and flipped through it. He must have been looking at the pictures, because I seriously doubted his ability to read.

"I can go out and find that kinda change on th' street!"

The kid shrugged again in a gesture that clearly said he didn't care. "Fifty-five more cents, buddy. Otherwise you don't get the curling iron."

Maybe it was the headache pounding through my skull… or maybe it was the kid's 'I-don't-give-a-piss' attitude… or maybe it was the fact that I'm just an angry person, but I really wanted to reach over and strangle the puny little clerk. It didn't help that he'd looked at me like I was some frickin' queer when he rang up the iron and the ribbon. Guess I couldn't blame him there though… I felt like a frickin' queer buying that stuff. Mikey owed me big time, and he could be sure I'd collect on this particular debt.

I glared down at the ribbon and the curling iron. The way I saw it, I had a few options. One, I could go out on the street and look for fifty-five cents. …Screw that. There's a lot of things I'll do for Mikey, but gutter fishing for spare change was just going too far. Two, I could put the ribbon back and just buy the curling iron, but then Mikey would be disappointed… not that I really cared. I was ashamed to admit though, I was morbidly curious to see just what the hell he was going to do a poodle and ribbon. Or the third option. Rough the clerk up a bit and steal the goods. Yah, I know it wasn't the most ethical option… but hell, when have I ever been accused of having ethics? But that option seemed pathetic, even to me. Even with the hangover from hell, it would hardly be a challenge. And I never stole nothing just for the sake of stealing; it was the risk of getting caught that I liked.

…But I didn't want to get caught because of a freakin' curling iron though. I'd never live it down. A vibration from my cell phone brought my decision making process to a halt and I grumbled a quick "waitaminute" to the clerk and dug the phone out. Another message.

(From
Brainiac cell
Saturday 4:15 pm
12-3-05
You've GOT to see this, Raph. Get home ASAP. Trust me, it's worth it. -Don)

Rolling my eyes, I shoved the phone back in my pocket. Maybe it would be best just to not go home at all. It sounded like some crazy shit was going down there, and I might just be better off taking the money back and crashing at Casey's again. I looked from the curling iron, to the ribbon, to the money still sitting on the counter, and tried to weigh the options again in my pounding head.

Isis-Lament:

The throbbing migraine was an entangling snare, and it asphyxiated my thoughts before they could properly formulate. My mind was helplessly incapacitated. I looked down briefly at my empty green hands, my skin flamboyantly green beneath the obnoxious fluorescent lightning. As if my empty hands would reveal the solution to my predicament. I speedily tucked my awkward three-fingered appendages back into my hoody's pockets, safely out of sight. My lethargic eyes drifted back to the half-hazard pile of change cluttering the counter, then onto the cheap curling iron and crinkled pink ribbon.

Unsurprisingly, the pathetic collection of objects also didn't hold any wise words of advice.

My pockets vibrated again. Yet another text message. Muttering colorfully under my breath, I hauled the cell out of my pocket in a violent gesture, and scowled at the new text message.

(From
Brainiac cell
Saturday 4:18 pm
12-3-05
PS grab a disposable camera, if you can. I'll pay ya back later, tnx. –Don)

My eyes widened with incredulous disbelief. What was I, my brother's personal courier service? I came dangerously close to smashing the cell phone, an urge accompanied by an intense longing to isolate myself from the world. Only a small thought in the back of my head kept me from yanking out the phone's battery and throwing it into a garbage can. That tiny thought was the fleeting hope that Casey would call tonight with the promise of more beer. Despite waking up this afternoon with a hangover that could even impress the infamously intoxicated Ozzy Osbourne, and I was already contemplating my next drinking session. In fact, I was really looking forward to it.

With those delectable thoughts serenading my mind, I snorted curtly at the annoying pimple-infested store clerk. I glared accusingly at the curling iron and pink ribbon. One of them had to go!

Before I made my decision, I heard an impatient voice clear it's throat behind me. I turned in amazement to greet whomever had managed to creep up on a ninja undetected. My breath caught at the sight before me.

It was her. The woman from the bar... the one Casey was so infatuated with... My jaw dropped. My eyes stares. My thoughts went blank. I couldn't swallow. I couldn't breath. I couldn't move.

She was beyond ravishing. She was perfect, too perfect, so perfect it should have been illegal. A goddess. Her honey-golden hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and fell wildly behind her back. A few wisps had escaped the confines of her red ribbon, and loosely framed her face. Her hair was untamed, like the look in her glimmering cobalt eyes. They were unapproachable, untouchable, standoffish... yet so mesmerizing, I couldn't bring myself to look away.

I don't know how long I stared. I do know that her eyes never bothered to meet mine. In fact, she seemed incredibly preoccupied. She glanced at her watch, frowned, then dug around in her small red handbag.

"Can I go ahead?" her melodious voice greeted my ears with silken caresses.

I promptly stepped aside, abandoning my beggarly lump of coins. She strolled past me quickly without even a glimpse in my direction. Probably for the best. No, with a mug like mine, it was definitely for the best.

Gleaning black leather hugged the delicious curves of her body. High boots accented her long legs. Yet her most sexy adornment was the motorcycle helmet hanging casually from her left hand. She had style...

The exquisite moment passed suddenly. Finished with her purchase, she glided out of the store quickly, and I watched until her trailing ponytail disappeared behind the store's haggard door. I couldn't hear the sound of her motorcycle's engine when she took off. I stared curiously at the space she had briefly occupied, wondering what a woman like her was doing in a decaying dead-end store like this?

Sighing, I pushed the thought out of mind, then reluctantly re-addressed the dilemma that still demanded my attention. As I stepped back up to the counter, I noticed something that had failed to catch my eye previously. A row of yellow ribbons sat innocently on a small shelf between some candy and cheap plastic toys. They were much cheaper and smaller in size than the crumpled pink ribbon resting on the counter. It looked like they were waiting patiently for little girls to scoop them up and rescue them from their imprisonment on the shelf.

I victoriously snatched one and plopped it next to the curling iron. I took out a trickle of my aggression on the pink ribbon, as I flicked it dismissively until it fell onto the filthy floor.

The clerk systematically popped bubbles with his faded pink bubble gum, then deliberately poked a few quarters out of the coinage. I leaned heavily against the counter with hungover exhaustion, and watched his tortuously slow pace. Finally, the clerk's fingers bounced off the cash register exaggeratedly, and the machine's triumphant bells chimed my completed transaction. I grabbed the ribbon and curling iron with haste, ignoring the insignificant amount of surplus change.

I stomped out of the store without glancing over my shoulder, and despite the piercing pain in my head, I made a point to slam that pitiful door behind me.

(Raphael's POV)

I knew something was horribly wrong as soon as I stepped into the lair.

A disastrous mess encapsulated my beloved home, one that could rival my most heated fights with Leo, or most vigorous wrestling matches with Mikey. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen the lair in such a decrepit state. And... was that water splattered all over the walls and floor?

I briskly pulled off my oversized hoody, and tossed it aside, along with my purchases. I shouted a quick "hello?", but was answered only by a faint echo. My mind began to reel as panic quickly strangled my spirit. My home had been violated, and my family...

A loud crash suddenly exploded through the lair, followed by a familiar voice screaming.

"Mikey!" I hollered as raw fear took over. I sprung forward into action. My trusted sai leaped eagerly into my hands, and I held them offensively. More crashing pursued Mikey's cry; I quickly pinned its origin, and I flew to my family's aid.

As I drew closer, I couldn't help but notice an increased amount of water blanketing the floor. Especially when my feet lost their grip and I slid forward. Completely loosing my balance, my legs flew from under me. I landed hard on my back, my shell making a grotesque smacking noise again the concrete floor, and my carapaced torso quivering from the jarring impact.

I gasped in surprise, having been completely taken unaware. Distantly I could hear the clinking of my sai as they were released from my grip. I lay stunned, physically debilitated, and unable to do anything but bravely await my fate.

I wasn't prepared for what happened next.

"Noooo!" Mikey screamed, and the bathroom door sprung open with incredible force. Out shot the blur of a white-shrouded figure. With my dazed vision, I couldn't even distinguish this person's profile. The figure jumped villainously upon my plastron with impressive prowess. The wind was knocked out of me, and my vision swam with crimson freckles. Beaten by a white-shrouded ninja, while I lay flat on my shell, with my limbs hanging humorously in the air. It was a stereotypical vision of an overturned and vulnerable turtle... such embarrassing circumstances.

Luck was on my side. The white figure spared my life, and leaped off my chest as quickly as it had landed.

I struggled to scramble off my back, but my breathless confusion assured that my fumbling movements were sluggish. Still, I was persistent! Sparing my life was a great mistake. I would make this enemy rue the day it had decided to attack my family!

A piercing bark filled the air, causing me to trip as I scampered to my feet. Reality was suddenly rushing in, and clarity was making its untimely entrance. Didn't Mikey say something about a poodle?

Boy, did I feel stupid. There was no attacker, only a dog gone rampant. The great ninja Raphael, made a fool by a poodle! Was it normal to become this stupid with a hangover?

Thankfully no one saw my run-in with the poodle, otherwise I wouldn't be able to live with myself.

"Come back, Maggie!" I heard Mikey's exasperated plea seconds before I saw his silhouette lunged through the bathroom doorway. He was healthy, uninjured, and debatably safe from harm, though dripping wet and blanketed in soapsuds.

It was a relief to see Mikey alive and well. It meant I would get to kill him myself once we captured and secured his heathen poodle.

Mikey's eyes were wide with concern, but as soon as he spotted me, his face sparkled and broke out into a smile. He opened his lips as if to greet me, but movement in the corner of his vision stole his attention. Forgetting my presence, and his face was overtaken with unaccountable horror. "No, Maggie!" he shouted in a terror-stricken tone. "Not the big screen TV! Anything but the big screen TV!" And with those words, he was gone, leaving me to glare at open space. I could honestly say that I had never seen my brother move so fast.

Donatello was next to dart out the door, and his comical appearance snapped me out of my shock. He was dressed in a blazing yellow raincoat, and matching heavy-duty boots. I didn't even know he had rain gear, nor did I try to understand why a turtle required rain gear. He wore rubber store-bought gloves, which stretched awkwardly across his stubby hand, while the unused finger slots flapped humorously as he walked. His mouth was covered with a dust mask, and for some reason I couldn't fathom, he wore a shower cap over his bald head. The imagery was priceless, and I was starting to regret not buying a disposable camera at that cursed convenience store...

Donatello's eyes were wild, but not in anger. His entire stance was peculiar; his back was rigid, his shoulders tensely raised, his eyes frazzled, and his movements stiffly lacked his ninja fluidity. Donatello's gaze met mine, and he answered my scrutinizing look with one word: "Fleas."

I immediately tensed.

My skin inflamed with irritation, as my hands started to scratch the imaginary itches all over my body. If there was one thing I couldn't stand, it was bugs. Not that I was afraid of bugs...

I looked down, and I saw a flea on my belt! I let out a startled yelp and nearly jumped out of my skin. I frantically swatted the pestering invader with my hands, nearly scratching myself with my weapons. The black speck was flung off of me, and slowly floated to the ground. Wait, floated? I guess it wasn't a flea after all, but just a speck of lint...

Nope, I'm not afraid of bugs at all.

By the time I had recovered my grasp on reality, Donatello was long gone. I looked up to stare into Leonardo's face. Dismissing my former antsy demeanor, I put on my toughest expression. I glared challengingly at Leo, while I braced myself for a lecture. Everything about Leo's exterior told me that he was irate. His teeth were clamped shut and his lips pressed forcibly together, while his jaw locked and unlocked subconsciously in frustration. The veins on his temple were pulsating, and his eyebrow occasionally twitched. The only part of Leonardo that did not seem mad, were his eyes. In fact, he seemed almost pleased to see me. "Hey Raph," he said quickly in a voice that was far too exhausted for someone so young. "Help out, will ya?" The sentence was a question, but the way he said made it inarguable an order.

He didn't wait for an answer, but trudged past me, heading straight for the yapping of an excited dog. His movements were urged on by the shouts of our two brothers, along with the sounds of fragile items crashing to their doom.

I was definitely not feeling myself today, and this hangover was causing me to act rather strangely. Not only did I nod and accept Leo's bossy demeanor without a hint of my infamous attitude, I was even feeling sorry for him. He looked so fed up and resigned, yet at the same time infuriated. Considering what Mikey and I had been putting him through, I couldn't blame him...

What was wrong with me today? Maybe it was time to lay off the sauce... I shrugged off my alien feelings, and jogged after my brothers. It was time to go hunting.