THE LION, THE CAT AND THE TURTLES

Based on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird

and

The Chronicles of Narnia
by C. S. Lewis.

CHAPTER TWO:
Talking Cats and Strange Phone Calls


"So ya mean to tell me that none of you ever understood a word that I said before now?!" said Klunk, staring up at the two Turtles and one rat with a shocked expression. "Man. Well, that does explain why nobody ever laughed at my jokes."

"You were telling jokes? Awww, and I missed them all?" said Michelangelo with a disappointed look on his face.

"You're a joke, Mikey," said Raphael. "Can we focus on what's important here?"

Splinter held up a hand. "Enough, my sons. I am not completely sure what has happened, and why, but apparently this Aslan is of the opinion that a talking cat will help us convince his daughter to help us enter the world where Leonardo is currently trapped."

"This is so cool, though," said Mike, reaching down to stroke Klunk's fur. "We got a talking cat! I bet nobody else in the world has a talking cat!"

"Maybe not in this world, Mikey," said Donatello, who just emerged from his room with a sheet of paper in his hand. "In other worlds, though... who knows?" He handed the sheet of paper to Splinter, who took it and glanced at the printed text. "I believe this is our woman. Susan Palmer, formerly Pevensie. It was easy enough to find her on the 'net -- here's the address and the phone number."

"Thank you, Donatello," said Splinter, studying the paper. "She lives over in Brooklyn, I see."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" said Raph. "Let's go see her!"

"I think it would be better to phone her first," said Donatello. "Three giant turtles, a huge rat and a talking cat might not be the best thing to have drop in on you completely unannounced."

"Hey, if her daddy's a talkin' lion, she should be used ta stuff like that."

"Still," said Splinter, "I do believe Donatello is right. Even though Mrs. Palmer is no doubt familiar with the strange and unusual, it would only be common courtesy to at least notify her of our visit."

"Ooh, can I be the one to call her?" said Mike eagerly.

"If you wish, Michelangelo," said Splinter.

"All right!" Mike scooped up Klunk and bounced over to the phone. "C'mon, Klunk, you can help me!"

The others watched as the cat climbed up on Mike's shoulder to perch there like a parrot. "I never understood how so many people could fit into that tiny little phone in the first place," the cat commented.

"Well, ya see, Klunk, it's like this," Mike began. You dial the right number, and..." he paused, and then, looking sheepish, hung up and came back to them to take the paper with Susan Palmer's phone number from Splinter. "Heh... forgot... yeah."

Raphael rolled his eyes, but surprisingly enough didn't comment. Instead, he waited until Mike and Klunk were over by the phone again (Mike beginning to explain to a curious Klunk just how a phone worked) before he turned to Don and Splinter. "By the way, am I the only one here who's wonderin' why we're not freaking out more over the fact that the cat suddenly talks? I mean, I can accept that Mike just thinks it's cool, but Don, I'd almost have expected you to go off on some long rant on why it's scientifically impossible for a cat to talk and then present five different theories as to how that could be."

Don smirked. "No, I wasn't planning on that, Raph. Look, we've all experienced stuff over the years that makes no sense scientifically. We've encountered gods and demons and spirits and several kinds of magic... After a while, you just have to accept that there are there are some things that just can't be explained that easily, or else you'll just go insane. Klunk is just the latest in a long line of strange happenings. If it helps us find Leo, I won't be the one to complain."

"Well said, Donatello," said Splinter. "Leonardo is our primary concern. Skepticism is not."

The three fell silent just in time to hear Michelangelo from over by the phone: "Susan Palmer? Formerly Susan Pevensie? Yeah, hi! My name is Mike! Look, this is kind of a long and extremely weird story, but your father told my father that we should contact you, because..." he paused. "Well, okay, if I have the wrong number, then the name 'Aslan' won't mean anything to you, right?" Another pause. "No, this isn't a joke! Look, this Aslan told us that we should contact you, because you were his daughter and... Hello? Hello? Was it something I said?"

Raph and Don exchanged glances.

Mike dialed the number again, taking a deep breath. "Hello, Mrs. Palmer? Mike again here. Please don't hang up... Please don't hang up! She hung up," he sighed, putting the receiver down.

"Major daddy issues," Raph muttered.

Susan Palmer, formerly Susan Pevensie, stared at the phone as it rang once again, but this time she made no attempt at picking it up.

It wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible. She hadn't heard the name "Aslan" for more than fifty years. It had been part of a dream, or a game, she'd used to play with her siblings when she was still young and living in England, and as far as she knew nobody else had ever so much as mentioned it.

Her eyes wandered over to the far wall, where hung a framed photograph. It was old and faded, but still clearly showed herself at the age of nineteen, together with a group of other young people; her brothers Peter and Edmund, her sister Lucy, their cousin Eustace and Eustace's friend Jill, who'd had a curious tendency of always being around whenever Eustace was as well.

But they were all dead and gone, along with her parents, Professor Kirke, Aunt Polly and hundreds of other people, killed in that terrible train accident all those years ago.

And as far as Susan had known, the name Aslan had died with them. For decades, she hadn't even thought about it, or about her childhood games and fantasies... some silly little dream about being a queen in a magical land. Narnia, or whatever it was. She had pushed it all out of her head when it was time to grow up, and the deaths of her siblings and cousin had more or less cemented the decision.

And Susan had gone on with her life and managed quite well, moving to America and meeting the man who eventually became her husband, settling down and raising a family. And never had she mentioned the name "Aslan" to anyone -- though admittedly, for half-forgotten reasons, she did feel a twinge of unease whenever she happened to see a picture or a movie with a lion in it.

But who was this mysterious "Mike," and where had he heard this name... much less found out that he should associate it with her? Who in their right mind would keep tabs on silly childhood games and call people up fifty years later to taunt them?

The phone stopped ringing; apparently Mike, or whoever else it was on the other end of the line had given up. Susan let out a breath of relief, only how becoming aware that she had held her breath while it rang.

Honestly, Susan, she scolded herself. You're acting like a little girl. Jumping at your own shadow just because someone mentions...

"Stuff and nonsense," she said out loud, letting the sound of her own voice drown out the unwanted thoughts. "I'm too old for this. And don't you be saying anything either," she added, looking sternly at the picture on the wall. "It's been more than half a century."

She decided to go make herself a cup of tea, and then maybe turn on the television to see if there was anything half-decent on that she could watch. If the phone rang again, she just wouldn't answer it.

Ignoring the tiny little voice in the back of her head that said that maybe she should at least try to find out what was going on, she walked towards the kitchen, not even turning her head to look back when the phone started ringing again.

After three more attempts at calling Mrs. Palmer, Mike gave up. By that time, Raph had started getting extremely insistent that they just go talk to her in person and get her to tell them how to get to Narnia, and at last everyone else had agreed that there was really nothing else to do.

So that was how they all, less than an hour later, now found themselves gathered in April's van and driving towards the woman's address in Brooklyn. It was to April's credit -- and probably said a great deal about all the weird things that happened in her life -- that she had immediately accepted the story of Leo being trapped in another world and had agreed to drive them.

Klunk was enjoying himself immensely, still perched on Mike's shoulder (having found a fairly comfortable place near the Turtle's neck, partly resting against his shell) and partly following the landscape outside as it speeded by and partly talking to everyone.

"Okay, here's another one," he said. "How many cats does it take to change a light bulb? You give up? None, because they don't know what a light bulb is!"

Only Mike laughed. But then, he was the one who had asked the cat to go through some of his jokes in the first place.

"This is going to take some getting used to," April commented from the driver's seat. "Klunk actually talking..."

"It was a surprise to us as well," said Splinter, who was sitting beside her.

"I'm not sure I wanna get used to it," said Raph from beside Mike. "Hey, cut the comedy, Klunk! You're not gonna help Leo by sitting here and tellin' bad jokes!"

"Which is why I'm not telling bad jokes," said Klunk indignantly. "I'm telling good ones."

"Besides," said Mike, serious for a moment, "we wouldn't help him by sitting here and moping either. When we get in a position where we can do something to help Leo, we will. But there's nothing we can do while the van is in motion, so..."

"Never mind." Raph leant back in his seat. "But that cat has definitely spent too much time around you, Mikey."

"Well, he is Mikey's cat," said Don calmly, from the opposite side of Mike. "I have to admit that I'm curious as to why this Aslan character thinks a talking cat is going to persuade her, though."

"Maybe she likes cats?" Mike suggested. "Maybe there's a family resemblance somewhere? Lions are big cats, aren't they? Hey, if she's part-lion, maybe Klunk's distantly related to her!"

Don looked at Klunk, and seemed to consider this for about two seconds, before shaking his head. "Highly unlikely," he said.

"Oh, that's nice," said Klunk. "You're talking to one of the Chosen of Aslan here!"

"But who is this Aslan?" said April. "You talk like you know him. I thought you only just met him last night."

"Oh, everybody knows Aslan!" said Klunk -- though truth be told, he was far less sure of that than he sounded. He couldn't for the life of him remember anyone ever telling him about Aslan before, or ever mentioning him... but he felt as if he had always known, even before actually meeting the Lion. He just hadn't thought about him.

In fact, he had never really thought very much about anything before. Mostly, he just hadn't bothered about it. Cats didn't need to think all the time -- that was what humans, or to a lesser extent, mutant Turtles, were for. Cats just needed to know what they wanted, and Klunk had always been good at that. He'd always more or less assumed that everyone knew exactly what he was saying to them at any time, but now that he actually thought about it, he realized how obvious it was that they hadn't.

Ever since he had met Aslan, though, it seemed like he was beginning to think more and more. He didn't actually feel all that different from before, it was just that his mind seemed more active. Thoughts were forming in his head at an alarming rate, much more quickly and more concisely than they had ever done before. Whereas before, it had usually been enough to keep one thought, or one desire, in his mind at a time, now he found that he could easily hold two or three different thoughts, on different levels, in his head at the same time.

"All right," said Raph. "If everybody knows Aslan, then why don't we know 'im?"

"Well, cause, cause you're not everybody," Klunk improvised. "You're... somebody else." (Raph hid his face in his hands and groaned. Probably, Klunk thought, because he was frustrated at being unable to argue with such infallible logic.) "Aslan is... Aslan is the Lion. That's who he is."

"Oh, now it all makes sense," Raph muttered.

"It does?" said Mike.

"No!" Raph snapped. "Geez, Mike, why don't ya --"

Just then, the van pulled up beside a tall brick building, and April called out "We're here!"

All the passengers immediately stopped talking and looked out to the side as the April shut the engines down. It looked like a completely normal apartment complex of the sort you saw everywhere, and Klunk had to admit to himself that he was slightly disappointed -- he wasn't quite sure what he'd expected Aslan's daughter's house to look like, but this wasn't it.

April turned her head and looked at them from the driver's seat. "This is it, guys," she said. "Why don't I go and check to see what floor our woman lives on before you come after me?"

"First floor," said Donatello.

"Oh. You're certain about that?"

"All on the Great Information Super Highway," said Don. "Long as you know where to look. But I think you should be the first to go, anyway. Give her a bit of time to collect herself before we launch everything on her."

"What if she just slams the door in April's face, though?" said Mike. "Like she slammed the phone receiver in my ear?"

"You have ears?" said Klunk, surprised.

"Mrs. Palmer is not our enemy," said Splinter. "And we are hoping to ask a favor of her. It would be wise to approach her with courtesy." He nodded at April. "Go, my child."

"I wanna come too!" said Klunk, jumping off Mike's shoulder and landing, fairly elegantly, between the two front seats. "I want to see what Aslan's daughter looks like!"

"Well...all right," said April, unfastening her seat belt and opening the car door. "I guess you're less likely to draw attention to yourself than the others. Just don't start talking before I can explain a few things."

"Deal."

"And if you're not out again after five minutes," said Raph, lifting his head and looking at them, "I'm comin' in after you, no matter what anyone else says."

April smiled. "You're not exactly giving me a lot of time to parlay, Raph."

"Yes, I am," said Raph calmly. "I was only gonna give you three minutes."

"Raphael...!" said Splinter, with a hint of a warning in his voice.

Klunk didn't hear Raphael's answer over the slam of the car door as April shut it and walked up to the building with him in her arms.

It only took a few seconds for April to find the right doorbell and press it. It took almost a minute before anything happened -- but instead of the door opening, like April had clearly expected, the window directly above them opened instead, and the face of an old woman peered down at them. She seemed to Klunk to be older even than Splinter, even if he wasn't sure how she might compare -- her long hair was gray and her face was wrinkled the way it got for humans when they grew old. Her eyes were clear and sharp, though, and... there was something else about her as well, something he couldn't quite define...

"Yes?" she said.

"I'm looking for a Susan Palmer?" April tilted her head upwards to meet the woman's gaze.

"You have found her, then. What can I do for you?" said the old woman, in a curious accent that Klunk had never heard before, other than on TV. If he remembered correctly, it was the sort of accent that sophisticated bad guys and some highbrow, intelligent people usually had, but he didn't know what it was called. (Of course, a daughter of Aslan wouldn't be a bad guy, so Klunk guessed that she was of the highbrow variant.)

"Could I come in?" said April. "This isn't really something we should talk about out in the open."

Susan Palmer's face changed a little, growing more suspicious. "I hope you don't think me rude," she said, "but before I invite you in, I really need to know what this is about."

"Well, my name is April O'Neil," April began, "and I'm looking for, well, a friend of mine. I was told that you were the only one who could help find him. He's in a place called... Narnia?"

The old woman momentarily pulled back, as if April's words somehow hurt her. Then, her eyes narrowed. "I knew it! Another one! Is this supposed to be funny? Who are you people?!"

April took a deep breath. "Please, Mrs. Palmer. We don't mean you any harm. We just want your help. I can explain everything, if you just --"

Susan Palmer shook her head. "I don't know where you've heard about Narnia, but that's..." She paused, looking as though she was going to say something very angry, but then apparently thought better of it and simply said, with icy politeness: "I'm sorry, I can't help you. Good day, Miss O'Neil. Please tell your friend Mike that he can leave me alone, and this goes for anyone else who wants to waste my time in this manner." She pulled her head back in and vanished from view.

"Ya know, for Aslan's daughter, you're not being very helpful!" Klunk called after her, completely forgetting his promise to be silent.

April opened her mouth, no doubt to reprimand him, when Susan Palmer's face reappeared in the window. "And where did you hear that name, anyway?" the old woman snapped. "It's not --" she cut herself off, looking at April and Klunk with a questioning look. "Who -- who was that other voice?"

"Me," said Klunk. "Wanna make something of it? Daughter of Aslan or no, you can't just blow us off without letting us explain!"

Her face changed again, going from angry and upset to shocked and disbelieving. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, staring at him, and then she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Did -- did you just talk?"

Klunk would have rolled his eyes, if his eyes had been the sort to easily roll. "No," he said, "April's doing her famous ventriloquist act. Gottle o' geer, gottle o' geer."

"Klunk!" April hissed, and would probably have gone on to say more, but just then, Susan Palmer did something neither of them had expected:

She gave a small, strangled squeal, and began to cry.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's notes: Raphael was being extremely sullen in this chapter, even for him, huh? Well, mostly it's because he's worried about Leo and doesn't think the others are acting quick enough in order to go find him. Many fanfics describe Leo and Raph as little better than rivals, but I really think there's a stronger brotherly bond between the two than either of them would care to admit.

Oh... and I admit it. I liked Klunk's lame light bulb joke. Yes, I know, my sense of humor needs repairing.

Next chapter, we'll go back to Narnia for a good old race through the woods -- and probably also a bit of fighting, as Leonardo discovers that not all Narnian creatures are nice and friendly.