A/N - My first attempt at humor. Basically a story about a little secret the family has been keeping about one of their own. That and the drunk stories were entertaining me, so I decided to try my hand at them. Please don't hate me for some OOC. They are drunk after all. Please Review.

DISCLAIMER - TMNT belongs to Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird, Mirage Studios and 4Kids Entertainment.


Suiken Party

CRASH

"Aww, Crap!"

Donatello sighed and set down the Battle Shell's carburetor that he was working on fixing. Massaging his temples, he slowly turned to see the destruction that was being wreaked before him.

Slowly and cautiously, he opened his eyes to see Raphael sitting on the couch in the living room. His head and body were twisted at odd angles so as to give him a full view of the main area of the lair where he had obviously seen the scenario that prompted him into that crude and Neanderthal exclamation. "So what's going on this time?" Don asked his awe struck brother.

Without taking his eyes off the scene, Raph replied, "He's at it again."

Don quirked an eye ridge in confusion. "I thought Leo was done with that intense training fit months ago?"

Raph turned to him and shook his head. "No Don. He's at it again."

Don's eyes narrowed in thought for a second before they shot up in shock as what his brother was insinuating finally registered in his clockwork mind. "Wait. You don't mean…"

Don's voice trailed off when Raph quickly nodded in response. Don was out of his workbench and next to his red-clad brother in a flash. His scrutinizing eyes took in the situation before him, and he was soon on the floor, his shoulders slumped and his face in his hands, sighing, "Aww, Crap!"


Leonardo was excited to say the least. They were all pretty excited. This was going to be a very special Birthday party, and he had a lot of pent up energy, so he was trying to get rid of most of it through a morning workout of intense katas.

April and Casey were scheduled to arrive soon. Most of the preparations had been set up by his brothers since they all knew Leo had no skill in planning anything beyond battle strategies, so Leo politely stayed out of their way.

He was just finishing up the last movement of his latest series when the familiar ding of the elevator echoed through the hollow cavern that was their home. Leo sheathed his katanas grabbed his water bottle which he promptly squirted all over his face. No sense in greeting the guests smelling heavily of turtle BO.

He dried his face with a towel that he slung over his shoulder and made to leave the dojo area when suddenly, a massive six foot tall guy with unkempt black hair came crashing through the thin wooden door of the dojo. Leo caught the man in mid-flight, but his momentum was too great, and the pair tumbled backwards and landed in a heap of confusion and limbs.

"Oh, I don' even care how jolly that little guy is, he's so goin' down," Casey exclaimed to no one in particular. And then, without even a thank you to Leo, or even an acknowledgement of his existence at that time, Casey stormed out of the small matted room screaming, "Goongalla!"

Rubbing his head as if to wipe away the shock and confusion, Leo stood and cautiously came to the door, half expecting something (or someone) else to come flying at him. When he got there, Leo was certainly not expecting the sight that came to his eyes, and he said the first words that came to his mind. "Aww, Crap!"


April could only stare wide eyed as her boyfriend continued to get pummeled in the most bizarre of fashions. It seemed that Casey was just as flabbergasted by the assault as she was, especially considering he never even seemed to know where the little guy was coming from.

"Oh just great SpaceCase. Wha' did ya do ta rile him like this?" Raph asked as he and Donnie made their way over to the fight scene.

"Nothin'!" Casey insisted. "All I did was say it looked like he'd been hittin' somethin' hard and then I clapped him on the shoulder." He blocked an incoming punch, but somehow the hand snaked its way over his arm and latched onto his ear and pinched roughly, causing Casey to yelp in pain.

"Yeah, that would be the problem," Leo said from his position leaning on a support pillar and watching the scene with an impassionate look on his face. "He probably thought you were attacking him."

"Sho, li'le boy. 'Ave ya had 'nough yet?" Casey's assailant asked him in thickly slurred speech. "Ya done meshed wit da wrong dude."

"Dude, where the hell did that accent come from?" Casey asked as he tried to crawl away, but after a couple quick and staggered steps, the little man was at his right side and grabbing Casey's shirt, he turned to throw him over his shoulder. Casey braced himself for the flight, but a last second twist and the guy kicked Casey's foot out from under him, and they both fell backwards, the other guy using Casey as a cushion.

The guy flipped up onto Casey's chest, squatted down and poked his nose into the vigilante's face. "Ah've shpent fifteen yearsh in New Yoak. Ya didn' t'ink Aye'd pick up a few t'ingsh?" The breath from the thick New York accent was hot on Casey's face, and it reeked of some weird stench, but the clear scent of alcohol was present.

"Dude, who the hell is this guy?" Casey finally said from his prone position. The figure on him chuckled and hiccupped madly before falling backwards and rolling several feet away to continue his hysterics.

Leo sighed. "I think we asked that same question the last time this happened," he admitted gravely.

April looked at him astonished. "Wait, this has happened before?"

Leo nodded. "A couple of years ago," he explained. "We found an old bottle of some sort of whiskey. At least we think it was whiskey. The label on the bottle was missing. Anyway, we showed it to him and he tried it for us. When he started acting strangely, we had no idea he was drunk and we instead thought he was sick. Raph was the one who got the brunt of his fighting. Broke his arm actually. He spent almost a month in his room away from us after he sobered up. It took a lot of coaxing to get him to come out again."

"Heh, yeah, so I know what yer goin' through Case," Raph chuckled. "Fightin' a natural Suiken master is never pretty."

"Shoo-king, what the hell is that?" Casey asked as he stood up, brushing off bits of dust and debris from his clothes.

"That's 'Suiken,'" Leo corrected. "And it means-." Leo was suddenly interrupted by the master who, now recovered from his giggle fit, came up and grabbed Casey by the wrists and somehow slunk down between the man's legs, pulling him down and off balance. Casey landed with a crash and the master did a back flip to a handstand onto Casey's raised butt.

"Ah'm da king o' tha worl'," the master screamed.

Leo sighed and finished his thought. "-Drunken Fist Style."

April looked from each of the turtles and then back to Casey and his jovially drunk opponent. "Well, why aren't you guys stopping this? At this rate, he'll kill my boyfriend."

"Yer right," Raph agreed. "We better stop this soon." He turned to Don. "Ya should probably get those tranqs ready."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll go get them," Don sighed dejectedly and lumbered off towards his lab.

April stared dumbstruck at Raph. "Tranqs? As in Tranquilizers? What happened to running in and restraining him?"

Raph glared at her. "Ah may be brave, but there ain't no way that Ah'm messin' wit' a Suiken master." Leo nodded in agreement.

April just huffed and turned back to watch Casey continue to try to fend off the little menace that was chasing him. "Where did he even learn this drunken style fighting anyway?" she asked.

Raph and Leo shared a glance before they both shrugged. "Probably just some innate talent," Leo explained. "He always seems to have an abundance of it. Remember when you guys first taught him how to play Euchre?"

April sighed and nodded in agreement, and continued watching. "So who gave him the booze this time?"

Raph grunted. "Ya know, that's a real good question," he agreed. "I know I didn't get 'im any fer the B-Day. Did you Leo?" Leo shook his head. "Did Donnie?"

Leo scratched his head. "I doubt it. You know how he hates alcohol."

"Ah, actually, this would be my fault," a gravely voice chirped from behind a pillar. Zippy-Lad, in his souped up wheelchair, peered around the corner giving a nervous smile. "I thought he would appreciate some good ol' Jack Daniels before the actual party." Raph and Leo's palms slammed into their faces as they finally pieced together what happened. "What!? Excuse me fer thinkin' he could handle himself a little better."

"You der," the happy suiken user announced staggering towards the old superhero. "Ya have more o' dat 'appy jooshe right?"

Zippy-Lad rolled back nervously and held up his hand in defense. "I think you've had enough to drink."

The master looked rather incredulous. "Ah'll tell ya when ah've had 'nough." He staggered several more quick and menacing steps.

Then, a low whistling rang out and a small dart appeared in the master's shoulder. "Gah, moshquito, moshquito," he started screaming and dancing around before he finally pulled it out. He looked at the dart and then over near April. "'Ey, you-," he cried as he approached. April nervously stepped back a few feet, but the little man continued to advance.

And then walked right past her. "-wit' da…antlers," he finished as he approached a practice dummy. "Keep yer bug ta…yershelf and don'…lishten ta dat…devil...on yer…shoulder…the angel's…cuter…" The Suiken Master staggered one last time before collapsing in a heap. Loud snoring echoed throughout the room as unconsciousness finally relieved them all of the horrors that had just transpired.

"Alright," Don said. "Let's get him on the couch so he can recover." Leo and Raph moved over to carry the limp figure. Just then, the elevator beeped again and the doors flew open revealing a figure with arms laden with presents. From behind the elegantly wrapped boxes, a green face with an orange mask peeked up.

"All right, where's the man of the hour," Michelangelo exclaimed. He saw who he was looking for lying peacefully in the arms of Raph and Leo, his muzzle open in a funny little smile, and his tongue lolling about like a panting dog. Setting the boxes down, Mikey quickly scanned the room around him. Don was holding a dart gun, Casey was covered in welts and the starting of bruises, and several things were broken around them.

Mikey hit his palm on his face as he pieced everything together. "Alright, who gave Master Splinter alcohol?" Everyone pointed an accusatory finger towards Zippy-Lad.

"Listen, I thought yer old man coulda held his liquor a little better," he argued.

Mikey just growled the words that had been bouncing around all night in response. "Aww, Crap!"


A/N - I do not condone excessive drinking, nor do I believe you will become an amazing fighter if you do drink excessively. The above work is entirely fiction and is not meant to be taken seriously little children.