Yo-la! This is a bit of Aaron nothingness that has been sitting on my computer FOR-EV-ER! I know, I know,
Ugh! not more of this Aaron junk! Save us! Save us!
But anyway, as far as I'm concerned, I have fun writing it and it's your own bloody choice to read it so THERE!
(Sorry, I'm in a really crabby mood.)
So anyways, after a loooooooooooong debate with Me, Myself, and I it has been decided that this fic will be posted and thus here it is. Enjoy. I put it under humor but I'm not sure it's all that funny. It's more of a 'you had to be there' kind of moment.
Disclaimer: The Ninja Turtles and all their lovely ninja turtley-ness and ninja turtley world belong to Eastman and Laird, not me. Talk about a news flash, eh?
Raph rolled over onto his shell and reluctantly opened his eyes. They were met by a red-tinged blackness.
He reached behind his head and adjusted his bandana so the eyeholes matched up with his eyes and groggily peered through a sleep blurred vision over at the clock on his bedside table.
The digital, electric lime-green numbers smiled much to cheerfully back at him.
Groaning, he rolled over in his hammock, basking in the warmth his body left behind in the blankets from laying still all night.
It was Sunday; Master Splinter had always made today their resting day from the week past and time to rejuvenate for the week ahead. This was the one day he could sleep in. However, this particular Sunday, sleep decided to pack up it's bags early and take a trip to Moscow.
Raph shifted back onto his other side as the drowsy feeling, that had so wonderfully oppressed him only moments ago, began to fade away. He shut his eyes tighter.
It didn't work.
Popping them both open, he gave the clock another glance
7:17 AM the numbers snickered at him. Way too early to be getting up.
He groaned again and buried his face into his pillow.
Eventually he had to face the fact that sleep wasn't going to come back and that the pillow in his face was restricting his ability to breathe. So he sat up, draping his legs over the side of the hammock and slid his feet down onto the cold concrete floor, grumbling unintelligible curses of the early morning under his breath.
He slowly made his way down the stairs and across the lair to the kitchen. Grumpily pulling open cupboards for a bowl, milk and his favorite food: cereal.
He slammed a lime green bowl onto the counter. The cheap plastic on tile rang out into the lair alerting Michelangelo on the couch that someone else was up; besides Leo, who always spent early Sunday mornings meditating in his room.
Mikey glanced away from his video game back over his shoulder to see Raph slopping milk into his bowl and taking a swig straight from the carton before replacing it in the fridge. Mike wrinkled his beak in ironic disgust. If only Raph knew Mike himself had drunk from it like that only ten minutes earlier. Of course that would mean immediate death for Mike, but it would be uproariously funny.
The orange-clad turtle pressed pause on his video game. Normally he wouldn't give Raph the time of day this early, especially not when he was about to arrive at the final level of his game, but there was something bugging the usually care-free terrapin.
"Morning, Raphie!" Mike announced himself to his hot-headed brother, who was now sitting at their kitchen table absently stirring his Lucky Charms around his bowl with a spoon. Raphael grunted crankily in reply.
"Have you noticed anything weird this morning?" Mike asked as casually as possible.
Raph looked up from his whirlpool of milk, whole grain and marsh mellows and eyed his brother suspiciously, "Whaddaya mean, Mikey?"
"I mean, like, things look different, like..." he stopped, leaning forward across the table and lowering his voice, trying to sound serious, "Like things are changing color."
Raph snorted at Mike's statement.
"No! Seriously!" Mike exclaimed, "I swear my skin is lighter than usual." He held out his three-fingered hand as evidence, "And the punching bag turned blue and- and..." Mike looked around the room for more examples, trying to convince his brother of the truth.
Raph rolled his eyes and went back to filling his mouth with marshmellow clovers and pots of gold.
"Wasn't the punching bag always blue?"
Mike shook his head, "It was red."
Raph tried hard to recall the correct original color, but his brain didn't work too well in the morning, especially this early, so he decided that either was just as likely as the other. He glanced over into the dojo. It looked normal enough.
"It's just your imagination." Raph said aloud, "Nothing's changed."
"I think I'd know whether my skin color is normal or not," Mike replied sulkily.
"Or maybe your just getting sick," Raph suggested, gesturing to Mike with his spoon.
"I feel fine..." Mike dumped his rear-end onto a chair and sat with his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands. His eyes focusing on a crack in the wooden table. "Maybe you're right, maybe I'm just imagining stuff." He glanced up at his older brother, who'd just finished his breakfast and was about to toss his bowl into the sink.
"Hey," said Mike, "Wasn't your bowl green?"
Raph glanced down at the cheap, plastic bowl in his hands. It was a light translucent blue. He clearly remembered pulling a green bowl out of the cupboard...or had he? After having the same thing for breakfast everyday, the utensils he used all blurred themselves together.
He shrugged his shoulders, but before he could come up with an explanation an unexpected cry of surprise rang out in the lair in the direction of the bathroom, quickly followed by an outraged,
Raph and Mike looked at each other, then back in the direction of the shout. Raph dropped his dishes in the sink and the two of them dashed to the source of the noise.
They found Donatello bent over the bathroom sink furiously scrubbing his face. He was covered head to toe in strange purple markings, like mystic shaman symbols. Bands of purple wrapped themselves around his arms and legs. Bold lines ran over his shell and when he wiped the water from his face and opened his eyes to see two of his brothers peering curiously into the doorway, they saw he had more markings on his face resembling Indian war paint. One large, thick line running from his beak, between his eyes, up over his head, splitting his face in two.
Mike bit his lip and Raph made a small snorting sound as they tried to stifle their laughter.
"It's not funny! It won't come off!" Don fumed, "What did you use, Mikey?"
"What?" Mikes grin disappeared in an instant. "I didn't do it. Why do you automatically assume it was me?"
Don didn't have the chance to reply with the long, mental list of major practical jokes and pranks Mike had pulled in the last few years because Raphael interrupted with an explosion of laughter. Having to lean against the door jam to support himself in his hysterics.
"I wouldn't be laughing if I was you, Mr. Pink bandana!"
Raph's laugh died down to a chuckle.
"What?" he choked out.
Don gave him a funny look and said matter-of-factly, "You're wearing a pink bandana."
Raph stormed the two feet into the bathroom, shoving both Mike and Don out of the way to get to the mirror.
"But it was red this morning!" Raph stopped, staring into the mirror at the 'Legally Blond' pink cloth that encircled his head, he turned back to his brothers and roared, "MI-KEY!"
"I didn't do it!" Mike squeaked.
"RAhh!" Raph leapt angrily at his younger sibling and they took off around the lair, very much resembling a Tom and Jerry cartoon. Donatello chuckled to himself in the bathroom doorway.
"I didn't do it!" Mike shrieked again, diving for cover behind Donatello.
"Move, Donnie!" Raph barked, trying to swipe at Mike with his sais.
"Eep!" Mike jumped into the safety of the bathroom, shut the door and locked it.
"Now you see what ya did?" Raph yelled at Don. Don shrugged innocently.
Raph growled as he began banging on the door with the butt of his sai. "MIKE! You get out here right now!"
"No!" Michelangelo's muffled voice shouted from behind the door.
"Open it right now MIKE!"
The door flung open. At first Raph was about to charge, but then stopped short. Mike was standing, completely horrified, covered head to toe in large orange polka dots.
"Help me!" He squealed, scratching at his skin, "Get 'em off me!"
Don and Raph stood gaping in the doorway. They exchanged glances with each other then back to their squirming brother.
"Get 'em off me. Get 'em off me!"
Mike looked up a moment and yelped again. His shocked expression slowly changing to a smirking one.
"What?" Raph growled.
Don turned back to Raph and made a small squeak of surprise in his throat. Slightly horrified, but biting his lip to suppress his instinct to laugh.
"Umm..." Mike looked off in the corner of his eyes, his previous panic-attack completely forgotten, "Do this." He clapped his two hands in front of his face.
"What?" Raph asked again, completely confused.
"Just do it."
Raph rolled his eyes, growled some unintelligible gibberish and glared in Mike's general direction, but grudgingly shoved his sais into his belt. The least he could do was give his little bro a last wish before he knocked his block off.
Raph sighed and smacked his two hands infront of his face. But instead of a blur of deep green, his limbs came together sporting a nice hot pink color.
Raph stared for a moment at his arms and soon came to realize the rest of him had changed too.
"What the shell is going on around here!" he yelled furiously.
"Wait, if all this is happening to us," Don ventured to question, "Do you think..."
"What's going on in here?" an agitated voice asked behind them.
Mike, Don and Raph whirled around to face a cross looking Leonardo.
At first the three stared in shock, but after a while the sight before them sunk in. Don put up a hand to cover his mouth and muffle his chuckling. Raph bit his lip as hard as he could to keep himself from dying of laughter. Mike pointed above Leo's head,
"Um, dude you've got a-"
"Not. A. Word." Leo spoke sharply, low enough to count as a whisper, "Not a word."
Raph's lip couldn't take any more pressure. The poor turtle snorted and doubled over laughing. Don's muffled chuckles turned loose, too. Mike smiled and joined in. Raph collapsed on the ground hooting and pounding the floor.
Leo crossed his arms and glared; this was not funny.
Floating in mid air above the fuming turtle's head in big blue lettering was the word:
"Shut-up, you guys!" Leo grunted. His brothers only laughed harder, if that was at all possible.
"Hey guys!" An all too familiar author's voice called from the entrance of the lair. "You gotta see what I found at Target yesterday!"
Raph, Mike and Don immediately stopped laughing.
They glanced round at each others faces horrified.
Aaron bounded across the lair. Focused on fishing around inside the messenger bag slung 'mailman' style across her shoulders.
"I know it's in here somewhere," she mumbled. "Did you guys know..." she paused pulling out a thin flappy little book, "you now have your own line of," She glanced up at them quickly before looking back down to flip through the book. She whipped her head back up in a double take and squeaked, "coloring books."
"Oh. Snap." She stared, horrified, at them.
The four multicolored turtles glanced round at each other then to Aaron, quickly piecing together the situation.
"You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you Aaron?" Leo asked raising an eye ridge, arms folded.
Aaron's face turned white and her eyes glanced for a moment above his head then returned to his eye level. She whipped the coloring book behind her back.
"N-no?" she stammered.
Suddenly she felt the book snatched from her fingers. She gasped, turning to grab it back, but Mike danced out of her reach, flipping through the pages.
"Hey! It's us!" he exclaimed showing his brothers the first few pages. Don with who knows whats-its all over his body, Raph in Barbie's favorite color, Mike covered in orange polka dots and Leo with-
Aaron snatched the book back, clapping it shut.
"Mm-hmm," Don nodded, "that's what we thought."
"Um... I can fix this?" Aaron gulped nervously and tried to smile.
"Get her!" Raph yelled.
"Aieeee!" Aaron screamed took off instinctively toward Master Splinter's chamber. She slid the door shut with a bang and turned around, leaning her back against it and holding it shut.
In the middle of the room, Splinter sat meditating. Suddenly she felt very thankful she had opted to not color Master Splinter in just yet.
Without opening his eyes he addressed her, "Good morning, Miss Smiley."
"Morning Master Splinter!" she grinned anxiously.
"What is the trouble you have already stirred today?"
"It's not my fault!" she whined, "How was I supposed to know the control an author has in writing a story would transfer over to a coloring book!"
"Miss Smiley, I'm afraid you do not make sense."
Aaron gasped feeling the door jiggle a bit from the other side. She dropped the book and braced herself against the door even harder.
"Basically," she huffed, "your sons just don't appreciate fine art!"
Hey, if you made it this far you might as well just leave me little note, right?
Miss You guys!