This fic was created after taking to heart reviews from a previous story. It was a self challenge to myself, the conditions being that I had to write a 1k fanfic in the TMNT '87 verse within a week. I also didn't allow myself to review any episodes or look things up online, other than for spell checking names. This is also what I consider a "raw" piece of work; I've gone through it twice to check for my regular mistakes and oddities but it has not been beta'd. All me. Any constructive learning pointers appreciated. With those fun tidbits out of the way, please read and I hope you get a few laughs out of it to make your day better.

Oh, yes. Disclaimer: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all names associated with the series and product do not belong to me. I just use it for therapy.

The first time it happened, the very female voice on the other line was so unexpected he didn't exactly hear what she said. Instead he blinked and stammered in surprise.

"Er… Jeremy?"


His surprise quickly melted away and irritation made his voice sharp. "I'm calling for Jeremy!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" There was a shuffle of papers and in the background he heard a door slam. "I don't think we have any Jeremy working here."

"What are you-"

A voice on the other end bellowed, loud enough for him to yank the phone away from his ear. "Irma! Get Vernon on the phone and tell him to get his camera down to Central Park. Now! Now!"

"On it, boss!" The lady - Irma? Americans and their strange names - answered with an equally loud voice. "Alright handsome, thanks for the chat but I gotta get back to work. Call me back tomorrow and we'll set up a date, okay? I like restaurants that serve creamy soups and plenty of desserts."

She hung up on him while he was still sputtering out an appropriate response. It was just as well, he'd wasted enough time. The mighty Shredder did not go on dates! He slammed the phone down on the receiver and glared at the scrap of paper, studying the scrawled numbers again. Surely his informant hadn't provided the wrong number to him on purpose?

Just as he was about to crumple the paper and order Bebop and Rocksteady to go teach the informant a lesson, he took a closer look. Could that six actually be a five?

He looked at the phone and grimaced. He did not want to repeat anything like the last phone call. Oh well, part of being a leader was taking the unpleasant jobs right? He grabbed the phone and dialed the number before he could think too much on it.

Thankfully it was a deep voice that answered the phone and the man responded to the name Jeremy.


A month later, it happened again. This time though he wasn't as surprised and heard every word the secretary said.

And then he was surprised.

"Channel 6 News?" he blurted without meaning to.

"Er, yes, that's what I said, wasn't it? Oh dear, did I say something else? Well, I meant to say that this is Channel 6 News and you're talking to Irma."

The female's voice sounded vaguely familiar but Shredder was too busy thumping his helmeted head against the wall to give it much consideration. Of all the things to do, he had to call the workplace of an ally to his turtle enemies.

"Who are you calling for?" Irma asked in the silence.

Shredder let his head rest against the wall with a final thump and sighed. "I actually didn't mean to call you, I dialed the wrong number."

"Oh, maybe it was destiny!" Shredder could hear the smile on her suddenly bright voice. "You know, I really appreciate a man who can admit his mistakes. It makes the relationship work out so much better."

"What?" Shredder jolted straight, blinking. "What relationship-"

Just then another voice cut in from the other line. "Irma, who is that?"

Shredder knew exactly who that voice belonged to; April O'Neil! He better not let her hear him, or it would be just his luck that she would try and trace the call in pursuit of her latest story. Namely, him. And Shredder wasn't ready for the camera just yet.

"I have to go, bye!" He slammed the phone down on Irma's protests and flopped down in his chair. How on earth had he managed to call Channel 6 News? Grumbling under his breath, he scooted closer to the desk and took a look at the number Krang had written down for him. Wait, was it possible that seven was a one instead? Stupid alien, couldn't even write numbers correctly!


That had not been the end of the matter, unfortunately. A dozen more wrong numbers dialed - half of which somehow ended up being answered by Irma at Channel 6 News - because of unclear handwriting. He managed to end most of the calls after only one offer for a date, but she was starting to recognize his voice. By the end of the month Shredder was swearing to send Bebop and Rocksteady back to kindergarten to learn how to write their numbers, a proposition that made the henchmen shudder. There had been a reason that they'd dropped out of highschool after all.

Yet despite his best efforts, Shredder still managed to dial the wrong number.

"Channel 6 News," the voice chirped, the cheer blatantly forced and barely covering the boredom underneath. "This is-

"Irma." He grounded out before Irma could finished. "I dialed the wrong number."

Again. He couldn't even blame sloppy handwriting for his mistake. How in the world had he managed to dial the wrong number - by memory?

"Oh, my mysterious handsome caller! You remembered my name too!" The boredom fled from her tone and the cheerfulness in her voice was genuine this time. "So when are you going to take me out?"

Shredder surprised himself by not hanging up the phone right away. If he was going to keep calling up Channel 6 News it was best to clear the air out. "Look, Irma, there is no-"


Krang chose that moment to bellow for him from where ever he was. Of course. As if he was some sort of menial servant at the alien's beck and call. For such a big brain Krang was quick to forget that it was due to Shredder's efforts they had gotten so far.

"You should have told me you work at a Japanese restaurant!" Irma all but squealed. "I love authentic Asian foods! Where is it?"

Shredder rolled his eyes and let out a long suffering sigh, resisting the urge to explain in detail the difference between sa-ke and Sa-ki. "No, I don't-"

"Oh, don't be so shy!" Irma interrupted him. "That would be a great place to meet up. How about this evening?"

"No, I-"

"Well, how about tomorrow?"


"Next week? Next month?" she added quickly before Shredder could respond. Not that he could at the moment. He was still trying to work his mind around the idea that someone dared to press him, the great Shredder, Ninja Master of the Foot Clan, for an answer other than "no". Wait... Shredder narrowed his eyes as he quickly replayed the conversation in his head. Was that desperation he was hearing?


Shredder winced as the sound of shattering glass echoed down the hallway, accompanied by a squeal - Bebop caught on the wrong end of Krang's temper tantrum no doubt. Krang loosing his temper was the perfect excuse to forgo any manners and end the ridiculous phone call.

"I've got to go." He said shortly, slamming the phone down as Krang bellowed again. Never again, he promised himself. No more calling Channel 6, no more letting himself get caught up in strange conversations. He was a Ninja Master after all.

He should of known that Fate had different ideas.

Edit June 18, 2015: Corrected Kraang (2012 spelling) to Krang (1980's spelling).