A man in his mid-thirties enters the stage. He smiles nervously and waves to the audience. "Eh, hi. My name's Brian, I was with in chapter eight. You don't remember? I sat in a mall dressed up as Santa Claus, but then some kind of loony showed up and started talking about what he wanted for Christmas, and after that everything just turned weirder and weirder… Anyway, now I'm unemployed, so Idun suggested that I could take care of the disclaimer for her. She cannot do it herself, since she choked and had to lie down from the shock of getting 100 reviews. Um… what's my line again? Gotta look at my note… ah. Here it stands: Idun does not own the TMNT. Just so you know. Bye!"

Chapter 11: Ticket, please

A figure wearing a blue jacket, a long skirt with red flowers on it, purple boots made of imitated snake skin, a green hat and an obviously fake moustache walked up the gangway of Mälarens Flamma. Stefan, the steward, gave the person a funny look. But since he were pretty used to strange passengers, he decided not to mind.

"Ticket, please," Stefan politely asked the figure, who didn't respond. Stefan decided to try his native language. "Biljetten, tack." (1)

"Åh. Ursäkta, men jag har ingen biljett." (2)

"I så fall kan jag tyvärr inte släppa ombord er, sir." (3)

The figure pouted. "Snälla?" (4)

"Det är mot reglerna, sir." (5)

"Än sen? Regler är till för att brytas!" (6)

Stefan looked at the figure sternly. The figure glared back. Their eyes were strangely… white.

At last they spoke. "Ledsen för det här, jag skulle inte göra det om jag inte måste. Men det är verkligen viktigt att jag kommer med på den här båten." (7)

Then, they used their big duffel bag to whack Stefan off the gangway and down into the water. Since Stefan had been working on the sea for several years, he had no problems getting up to the surface again, but he wasn't very happy when he looked up on the figure that called out "förlåt!" (8) before they ran up the gangway and disappeared.

Donatello – 'cause of course, it was him – which I'm sure you figured out about seven months ago – rushed alongside the deck, trying to find a hiding place. He knew that the steward would sound the alarm as soon as he got up from the water, and then the whole crew would look for the free passenger. 'Kom igen, kom igen, kom igen!' (9) he thought while he ran.

Suddenly, he spotted a door with a sign with the text 'Lastrum. Obehöriga äga ej tillträde'. (10) He smirked.

"Okay, if I was Donnie, and I had been electrocuted and thought that I was Swedish and wanted to go 'home' to Scandinavia, where would I go?" Michelangelo thought out loud. He, Raph, Leo and Splinter were trying to come up with some plan to find Don and get him home before he did something really stupid. (Hah. As if he hadn't already.)

"Probably to any place that could have some connection to Sweden," Leo said. "We are in New York, so the only ways to travel would be by train and by plane. He knows that, he isn't completely stupid."

"Wanna bet?" Raph mumbled. Leo ignored him.

"Since the airport doesn't lie in the actual city, it would be more practical to travel by boat. I guess Don's aware of that too."

Raph grunted.

"Even if he has decided to travel by boat, we still have a big problem," Splinter said. "There are many harbours in New York City." (Raph rolled his eyes.)

"I suggest we all split up," Splinter continued. "He can not have gotten far away, since he does not use the rooftop route anymore."

"You're coming with, Sensei?" Leo asked.

"Of course. As many as possible should go. It might be a good idea to call miss O'Neil and mister Jones as well."

Leonardo bowed. "As you wish, Sensei." Behind him, Raph and Mikey made gagging noises. (And can you blame them?)

20 minutes later, Splinter, Leo, Mikey, Raph, April and Casey were on a wild chase after their dear son/brother/friend/loony. The mutated animals had split up and were searching from the rooftops, while April took the Battle Shell and Casey his motorbike, which he called Katie, after the pet rabbit he'd had as a child. They all carried their shell-cells with them.

Even though they all put their shoulders to the wheel, they didn't find anything until 11.34 am. (Isn't it amazing how much can happen in only a couple of days?) It was Mikey who suddenly spotted something on the ground. After staring for quite some time, he brought up his shell-cell and pushed the button which made the call go out to everyone. "Hello?"

"What is it?" Raph.

"Did you find him?" Leo.

"Have you seen anything, Michelangelo my son?" Splinter. As if I had to tell you that.

"I haven't exactly seen Donnie, but I've found something else…"

"So say it already, shell-fer-brains!" Raph.

Mikey gulped. "If I said that the Shredder is walking down the sidewalk in his armour, with Hun and Foot Elite in tow, and holding a guinea pig in a leash, would you believe me?"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"… You're kidding, right Mikey?" April.

"Believe me April, I wish I was."

They all heard Casey gulp. "So, um… Where are ya?"

"Sixth and 17th. He's walking towards the Castle Clinton National Monument."

"Oh." Casey again. "I've been there. It wasn't very impressing."

"Whatever." Raph.

"So, eh, is there anything I should do about it?"

"Do you think that Shredder has got something to do with Donatello's current position? Would we earn anything by following him?" Splinter.

"How should I know? I–"

In that moment, Mikey was interrupted by a shout from the ground: "Ah-ha! Prince Albert has caught the scent! We'll find the turtle in no time!"

Mikey looked down. It seemed as if the Shredder were dancing a little jig on the spot, and praising the guinea pig at the same time.

"On second thought, Sensei… Yes, I think Shredder might actually help us."

Half an hour or so later, Shredder and his goons walked up the gangway of Mälarens Flamma. They were met by a sour Stefan. His hair had been ruined when he fell into the water, so he wasn't in his best mood.

"Ticket, please."

"Ticket?"

"Yes, ticket."

"I don't need a ticket. I am the Shredder, a really bad guy who plans world domination in my free time and beat up people for fun!" He took off his helmet, partly to look more intimidating and partly because it was easier to laugh evilly without it. "Bwahahahaha!"

Stefan raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you are, but you still need a ticket. Otherwise, I cannot let you come aboard, sir."

Saki gave the helmet to Hun, crossed his arms and pouted. "Oh… please?"

Stefan shook his head. Shredder frowned, but then brightened and started searching through his pockets. (Now you're raising an eyebrow and thinking "but he's got no pockets on his armour!" But I'm the almighty author, and I say he has! Hah!) After a while, he hauled up a small piece of paper and gave it to Stefan. "See? A ticket!"

"It is a movie ticket for Chicken Little, sir."

"So? A ticket is a ticket."

"I am sorry, but that is not the case. If you don't have the right ticket, you cannot come aboard, sir."

You could practically see the steam coming from Saki's ears. "Alright, if that's how you want it, fine!" He turned around and started walking down the gangway again, shoving Hun and the Foot Elite before him. He threw a look over his shoulder and glared at Stefan. "We'll meet again!"

Stefan shook his head. Two loonies already, and it was barely time for lunch.

The three still American turtles, their father and their two friends had seen it all from behind of a few boxes, filled with dismountable rocking chairs that would be transported to New Zealand.

"Do you think that Donatello is on that ship?" April asked.

"Well, it's got a Swedish flag painted on it, so it wouldn't surprise me," Leonardo answered.

"So, how do we get him?" Mikey wondered.

"If April and Casey make a diversion and distract the steward, the rest of us could use our cool ninjitsu abilities to get aboard without being noticed," Leo thought out loud.

They decided that the plan was as good as any, so the two humans approached the steward.

"Ticket, please," he said tiredly.

April gave him an apologizing smile. "I am sorry, but we are not here to go on that boat."

"No? Then why are you here?"

"We are… marketers!" Casey smirked. "If you answer a few questions, we'll send you a signed copy of The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien."

April hit him with her elbow and hissed "Tolkien is dead, you moron!"

"Oops."

Fortunately, Stefan didn't seem to notice. "Sure," he sighed. "What are the questions?"

"First, we want you to know that by taking the book, you are agreeing to participate in our study, and agree to hold this firm and our clients harmless in the event of your injury and/or death."

Usually, this would've gotten Stefan suspicious, but today, nothing could surprise him anymore.

"Which sports star do you like most?" started Casey.

"Only ones with criminal records, now!" April added.

"Cheese-flavoured milk," Casey said, "yes or no?"

A bit further away, three turtles and a rat impersonated tightrope dancers on one of wires that held the ship on place.

"Would you buy a toothpaste that made your spit look like blood?"

"Inflatable pants? Collapsible thigh zones, automatic basket extension, emergency buttock-cushioning action – sound good?" Casey asked. April glared at him. He gave her a look that said 'what?'

"Would you eat feathers? How about with a non-dairy topping?"

"How do you feel when I say this: 'pink budgie'?"

"Would you listen to a cd with chainsaw noises?"

There, it snapped for Stefan. He fell to his knees, begging: "I can't take it any more! Have mercy! Spare me, please! I've got a wife and 26 kids!" (As a matter of fact, he hadn't, but it couldn't hurt to lie a bit.)

In the corner of her eye, April saw Leo waving at her, a sign that meant: 'Okay, we're aboard, stop torturing the poor guy who has done nothing to you.'

"Thanks for participating," April said to Stefan. "We'll send the book by mail."

"…Okay…"

When they walked down the gangway, April whispered: "Where in the world did you come up with all those sick questions? It doesn't surprise me that he broke down! I would've done it too!"

"What can I say?" Casey shrugged. "I read Barry Trotter and the Dead Horse by Michael Gerber. It gives you ideas."

"Remind me not to let you read any Barry Trotter books ever again."

"Sure."

"What do we do now, master?" Hun asked. He, Shredder, Prince Albert and Foot Elite were hiding behind earlier mentioned boxes with rocking chairs in them. They were trying to come up with a plan.

"Well, we have to get with that boat. Usually, I would call for my army of Foot Ninjas and fix a massacre, but I'm feeling nice today. So, we shall use that instead!"

The Shredder pointed to a small rowboat. His goons blinked simultaneously.

Foot Elite number 1 scratched his head. "Eh, I'm afraid that I don't really get it, master."

"Doesn't surprise me," Shredder grumbled. "Why am I the only one here with a brain? This is how we'll do it…"

Don't think that I ain't sorry for torturing poor Stefan like that, 'cause I am. Usually, I'm not that evil.

The other day, I bought Enya's album "Amarantine" and found this song called 'Long long journey'. The lyrics immediately made me think of Don's current situation. If you want to read them, they're here: http / www . oldielyrics . com / lyrics / enya / long long journey . html (Put underlines between 'long' and 'long', and 'long' and 'journey'. And as usual, there shall be a colon and two slashes after 'http'.)

Question thread added at Stealthy Stories! If you wonder what type of suicide Stockman prefers, or what Prince Albert thinks about his new master, that's the place to ask! Feel free to drop by!

1. Ticket, please. (AN: Well, duh.)

2. Oh. Excuse me, but I don't have a ticket.

3. In that case, unfortunately I cannot let you come aboard, sir.

4. Please?

5. It is against the rules, sir.

6. So what? Rules are made to be broken!

7. Sorry for this, I wouldn't do it if I didn't have to. But it is really important that I get on this boat.

8. Sorry!

9. Come on, come on, come on!

10. Cargo space. No admittance except on business.