That was the first word spoken, or shouted to be more accurate, and was ever so loudly announced that morning, and the cranky turtle who related to that cry of joy did not find comfort nor solace in the loudness of the caller.
In fact, it only irritated his already horrible mood even more.
Thus, groaning in exasperation and deeming it a red zone for disaster upon his sensitive ears, and due to his known foul mood in the mornings, accompanied with the addition of a hangover, a not so pleasant reminder of last night bout in the streets of New York, Raphael placed his hands over his ears to protect them from the high pitched, penetrating voice chattering a thousand words per second over his already achy and throbbing skull.
The apposing turtle in orange had not been daunted by the shield shed upon his brother's ears, so instead of pouting as he would often do, he grinned much wider in a mischievous manner, and instantly commenced smacking his hands under his brother's arms, tickling the sensitive flesh and causing the dark skinned turtle to bolt upright with a cry of start.
"Mikey!" came the bellowing howl of an enraged beast, before the furious turtle bolted off after the screaming kin, snarling venomously and swearing in a profound language his brothers had grown accustomed to during the years, therefore had not blinked or flinched the slightest when the blurs of two shades of green, with red and orange strips streaked past them in a frenzied chase out of the kitchen, where the three of them had previously dwelled.
"He gets more and more hyper every day," the eldest sighed in aspiration, bewildered and perhaps a little demeaned by the family's youthful member's antics, "he's going to have his head handed to him on a silver plate, one day." He shook his head in mild disdain, before returning his attention to his newspaper, praying for a moment of quiet solitude to finish sifting through the articles.
"He'll grow up and out of it." the olive green brother replied from over his steamy coffee mug, and at the sound of a mad giggle followed by a hallowing howl of pain, he cringed and quirked a wry smile at the kitchen entrance, "Someday?" He amended.
Leonardo snorted in dry bemusement, "That would probably be the day I hang my shell." He muttered, attention fixated on the articles.
Smirking, Donatello found the thought funny but did not voice it, and instead turned his attention back to his drink for another sip, while the ruckus calmed down a little and the bantering pair finally returned.
Or, to be correct, a nauseated Raphael had dragged a yelping Michelangelo by the mask's tails, who also supported his dizzied brother back to his seat, before the short tempered turtle finally released the strap, whereas a loud snap collided against the back of the youngest's head. With a loud shout of stinging pain, Michelangelo pouted with teary eyes and scowled at the cranky turtle while soothing his stinging sore spot, who in turn snorted in mild satisfaction before seating himself on his chair again, and with a pained grunt rubbed his face to sooth the headache away.
"So, what was so important for you to prod the dozing tiger, Mikey?" the leader spoke from over the newspaper, not bothering to look at the puppy eyes in acknowledgment of his vulnerability to resist them, and since he needed to keep a strait face to be fair, he knew facing those pools of shimmering blue would only soften him up to take Michelangelo's side.
Of the four of them, why did Michelangelo have to be the one with baby blue eyes? As if his cheeky attitude, bubbly character and irresistible child-like charm weren't effective enough.
"I just wanted an opinion, it's not like I knew Raphie had no literate skills." The youngest huffed in complaint and rubbed the tears if stinging pain from one eye, as his mask absorbed the moist from the other.
But of course, sitting next to the one you are speaking ill of was never a bright idea, and since the jade-green turtle had not quite been the brightest turtle in the bunch, though not the dumbest either, he had overlooked that fact, and thus gained a bruise on his already bruised head, as Raphael delivered a good smack backside the head.
"Ow!" the youngest yelped again, clutching the back of his head where he squatted down below tabletop level in pain. It earned him a stifled chuckle from one brother, a scowl from another and a snort of irritation from the third, "Not funny!" he childishly whined, then pushed off the floor to sit next to the hotheaded sibling, soothing the sore spot on the back of his skull.
"Says you," Raphael grunted and rubbed his face one more time, and then pushed off the chair to fetch himself an icepack from the icebox. His hangover was getting worse, and he knew deep down inside that as long as he sat next to the ever-chatty Michelangelo, it will gradually get worse until one of them, if not both, were to get knocked out cold into next week.
At the moment, Raphael did not mind getting knocked out if it would spare him a Mikey-ramble.
"What does Raph have to do with literature, Mike?" the brainy turtle inquired from over his half empty coffee mug, curious and perhaps puzzled by the possible connection. But it wasn't that he thought Raphael wasn't literate; anyone who read Jurassic Park the book was literate as far as Donatello was concerned, so it puzzled him to what the impish turtle wanted with the hothead exactly.
"Well," the blue eyed sibling began with a smile, "I have this plot for an original novel, and I wanted his opinion, that's all." He swung his legs where he sat besides Raph in his respecting place.
"Another one?" Raphael grumped in annoyance, now seated once again with a cold and soothing ice pack pressed to his skull, "Just what's the point, Mikey? Every time you get my opinion on a story, you write them down as pointers and footnotes, but never write the actual thing." he complained.
"That's because I'm still refining my writing skills," Mike mumbled, and then leaned forwards in his seat with his hands on his knees, hopeful eyes peered at his siblings, though one remained hidden behind the safety of his newspaper, "I need opinions so I'd know if the plot has plot holes and stuff." He concluded, now leaning back against the chair.
"Well, some stories need to be in the process of actual writing before you'd realize the plot holes," Leonardo informed while flipping a page, "and keeping them as vague pointers and note are likely to leave you stranded, especially of whatever little details you have had in mind at the instant to cooking them up." The leader said from over the newspaper, not yet daring to eye the others while he flipped another page.
There was an odd moment of silence that alerted Leonardo there was something amiss, were he had mistakenly lowered his defenses to look at his siblings in a mix of confusion and self awareness. They were looking at him with various expressions, and it took him a few seconds to realize what he had gotten himself into. Donatello looked rather indifferent, though with a hint of bemusement, Raphael appeared unquestionably annoyed, whereas Michelangelo was beaming at his big brother with stars practically gleaming in his eyes.
Leonardo then realized, he had just given Mikey the green light as if a 'Jackpot!' sign was written all over his forehead.
"I just remembered I'm late for an extra meditating session with sensei." The Leader quickly exclaimed with a nervous chuckle, placed the wrinkled newspaper on the table, and just as he was about to push off the chair Michelangelo had already appeared next to him, as if he had teleported in a mere second. "No!" was Leonardo's rebuttal before the conversation even took place.
"Please!" the youngest begged, hands brought clasped together in front of him as he pleaded the leader's aid, "Since you have such grate insight in plot weaving, Oh Perceptive One, I could really use your opinion." he resisted the urge to flash a sweet grin.
Thus, at the penetrating gaze of crystal blue eyes, Leonardo instantly lost the battle before it even began.
He sighed in defeat before he finally found his voice again, purposely ignoring the snigger that floated from the turtle with the icepack. "Uh… s- sure, I guess." He said wearily, and settled stiffly on his chair though in defeat, clutching the newspaper in need of something to squeeze, "So- what exactly do you need help with?" he asked.
Although Donatello had contemplated slipping out of little brother's radar and vanishing into his private lab, the thought of Leonardo aiding a story plot was, to his point of view, too amusing to pass. True Leonardo was crafty when he wished to be, but it was not something they all indulged of experienced much of, for the leader had always been a perceptive and self aware person, being the silly one every now and then wasn't a side he would show often.
Raphael, on the other hand, had begun to calm down as the ice pack did its job of dulling the throb pounding against his cranium. It put him in a better and mellower mood, so he did not flee the kitchen for he as well was interested to see how Leo, the ever behaved and confident leader, would handle the overly active and probably scatter-brained imagination of Michelangelo.
Michelangelo flashed a grin as radiant as a child's pure innocence, before he got to his feet and retrieved his chair, dragging it along to set it between the Leader and the drowsy hothead. Next, he sat down and took in a deep breath, sorting through his thoughts in order to express his plotline to his brothers efficiently, and to gain better judgment and opinions. There was no need to be too vague or blurry with the details, the more descriptive he can be, the better opinions he might be able to receive.
After all, they were smart turtles, surely they'd be able to spot anything that may or may not fit the theme.
"Okay, so the plot starts like this," he began with a suppressed grin, "The main theme is an original story, general Action Adventure with a hint of Drama. I have a character named Carlos, who is a bounty hunter,"
"- a western?" puzzled, Raphael grouched with annoyance shown on his features. "Mike, since when do you even watch westerns?" the short tempered turtle grouched, a little irritated at the choice his horror-movie loving brother had picked. The brothers knew Raphael liked westerns, but the idea of none other than Mikey writing the story did not bode well with the hothead.
The brainy turtle hastened to shush the peeved turtle in order to let baby bro continue, and so ignoring the muffled grumbles coming from under the ice pack, the youngest continued as if he had never been interrupted.
"It's an alternate universe setting, like- it's Earth and all, but it's got other races besides humans on the planet; anthromorphic people, ya know?" he grinned eagerly, and acknowledging that tidbit Leonardo nodded, so his brother continued, "So he is type of lone wolf guy, travels around and hunts bounties, wears a cowboy hat, green eyes, red hair, cigar, a rootin' shooting type,"
"A typical Gary-John-Doe-Stu," Raphael scowled and rolled his eyes. Donatello shot his brother a part amused, part annoyed and part confused glance as he took a sip from his drink, to which the sore turtle replied, "Gary Stu applies to overly perfect people who have no weakness; think Superman. And I'm sure you already know what a John Doe is, right?" he asked, where the brainy turtle gave an understand nod.
So, the two turned their attention to the obliviously still chattering turtle, where Leonardo apparently was quite captivated with what his brother way saying, and had no intention to try and tune him out or pretend to be listening.
And thus aware of the lack of disturbance to Leonardo's direction of focus, the youngest continued on with vigor, "So one day he meets this bounty who's too slippery for him to catch. Note, Carlos is at least thirty five years old, so he's got more than enough experience to know how to catch bounties, but naturally, and since I want it to be as realistic as possible, there is a first time for everything, and the bounty Carlos tries to catch it too smart for him."
"What's he hunting?" Donatello questioned from over his nearly empty mug, though he already had a hunch who or what the antagonist would be targeting. After all, he preferred sci-fi movies, westerns weren't really his type because he felt they were too predictable, not to mention the Texan accents sometimes tended to grate on his nerves, especially if there was a damsel in distress who happened to be a village girl.
He just didn't see what Raphael liked in blonde village girls. He personally preferred redheads, to his opinion they were prettier and smarter.
"Well, this is one of the things I'm thinking of; I have three things which will build up the plot." Michelangelo smiled with a matter-of-fact tone of voice, as if his brainy brother had just asked the million dollar question. "My first thought was to add another guy, but I hadn't developed him all that much yet. I'm thinking of making him a train robber of sorts. The second idea was to make the bounty a lady with sticky fingers who swindles people of their money, and the third was some run away animal, or just a wild animal that needs to be captured or killed." He explained with a shrug.
"I think all three could work," Leonardo spoke, "You could let the train robber and the lady partners with their pet that helps them. A well trained bird or a monkey would work nicely in such situations." He offered.
"Yeah, but the lady sounds like a Mary Sue to me." Raphael grunted, "She aint gonna fall in love with the hero, is she?" At that, the youngest gave a cheesy grin, to which Raphael groaned, "Mike! That's like the most predictable thing in a western!"
"Hey! You can't have a 'good versus evil' conflict plot line, without romance somewhere in the middle to buffer out the tension, it's a given there would be romance and someone has to get the girl." He argued meekly, and then grinned like a cheshire cat, "And besides, I was thinking of making the train robber her brother, big brother actually; so he and the antagonist would bump heads, ya know?" he flashed a cheeky grin.
At that, Raphael couldn't help but drop his head to hit the tabletop, before groaning in dismay.
"Hey, big protective bro taking care of tomboy little sister from getting tangled with the wrong crowed; I think it's a good plot twist." He crowed happily, and then perked when he remembered something essential to the plot, "But of course, I forgot to mention that she's doing it because he makes her, and they do it to make a living, because they also need the money to get their dad out of jail, who was tossed into the slammer by a mean dishonorable judge."
The olive green turtle perked, nursing his now empty coffee mug, "And, what's Carlos got to do with any of this exactly?"
"Carlos is the hero, the train robber and his sister are the dishonorable people, but the judge is the real bad guy." Mike replied with a grin, "Of course, Carlos is gonna try to capture the train robber, and he doesn't know about the sister and her relationship, so she manages to free her brother at some point when the hero gets him," he continued with a grin.
"So Carlos catches the train robber- how?" Raphael muttered from his muffled spot between the tabletop and ice pack.
"Uhh, I hadn't fleshed out that part yet, but I'm thinking of letting him catch the guy by coincidence, being on the right train at the seemingly wrong time, ya know?" the youngest replied, "So anyway, lets say train robber is called Bob," he began then frowned with a wry grin when the leader stifled a small snort of laughter, "Hey! There is nothing wrong with Bob." He exclaimed with a grin.
"Whatever you say, Mikey." Leo helplessly sniggered.
With a bit of a mock pout, the youngest cleared his throat before continuing, "So the point was Carlos would catch Bob, so- lets call the girl Mandy for now," he stifled a big grin when even his two other brothers sniggered at the names, and then rolled his eyes, "Guys, would you please keep it down, I'm trying to keep my thoughts in order here." He whined, though with a perky smile.
Respectfully, Raphael and Donatello cleared their throats and did their best to keep a straight face, but the hothead was apparently too tickled by the names to focus, and because of that a quirk at the corner of his mouth every now and then would flash his teeth, and a small laugh would slip through his defenses, which would tickle the other three turtles and they couldn't help but smile along in reflex.
Finally getting himself together again, Michelangelo continued, "Anyway, let's say Carlos managed to be on the right train and knocked Bob out, tied him up and then went to tell one of the conductors to stop the train, and then send a message to the nearest station, so he would deliver the bad guy to the nearest sheriff." He said in a calm tone, "But little did Carlos know, Mandy had already snuck in and freed Bob and they both jumped off the train, long before arriving at the next station."
"So the message he was gonna send, by air mail or horse?" Leo inquired with a mellow smile.
"I think at the time of the old westerns they had depended mostly on telegrams, Leo." Donatello amended, before swallowing the last droplets of his coffee that were still in the mug, and then pushed off his chair for a refill.
At that, the jade green turtle grinned while wiggling a finger, "Ah, but here, dear brothers, you have forgotten that I said it was an alternate universe." He grinned like a cheshire cat once more, and at the surprised blinking eyes directed towards him, he grinned wider before continuing, "You see, this story is based assuming it is the year 3302." He explained.
At the boggled expression, he added, "It's a world where cowboys use laser guns and engineer rocket-boosted android animals instead of the real things." He explained further and leaned back against his chair, "I'm thinking it's a world where earth is protected by a shield, cause global warming ruined the atmosphere and most animals were threatened with extinction, due to their environment being tossed out of the loop." He amended.
The three turtles, even the one hiding under an ice pack, glanced at him with befuddled eyes.
He shrugged in self defense, "What? I'm trying to be original, you blame me for overdoing it?" he smiled sheepishly.
The hothead grunted and hid under the icepack, too content with the soothing chill against the ache growing under his skull to bother with a snide remark. Not now, he was too busy tuning all the noise out of his currently over sensitive ears to care.
Feeling safe, Mike continued with a weak grin, as Donatello returned to the table with a hot mug of coffee in his hands.
"Um, the story continues that after Carlos realizes Bob escaped by receiving help from someone, he checks the place he had tied him up at for clues, but doesn't find any clues." He continued on, "I thought of letting a strand of hair from Mandy at the scene, but figured it was too predictable, and I didn't decide on what animal should be in the story, so I decided they got away this time."
"I guess that sounds fair, kind of like the Shredder." The leader agreed, an arm propped on the chair's backrest and a fist on the side of his head, as he faced the youngest in attention, "He keeps slipping away every time we try to catch him, but then comes back and tries to take us out, but we take him out again instead." Leonardo said, picked up the newspaper and folded it before setting it at the middle of the table for anyone who wanted to read, then directed his attention to his brother again, "So then what happens?"
Michelangelo smiled, glad his brothers weren't trying to run away and honestly wanted to listen to his plot.
Eager and growing more motivated with the attention, he continued, "I thought of having Carlos and Mandy cross paths and her trying to capture him, because then we discover he's a wanted fellow as well." he flashed a grin, and at his two attentive brothers he chuckled, "Yup, Carlos is accused of a murder he did not commit, so he's actually hunting around to find the real dude who killed the guy he is accused of killing." He explained.
"And the guys who was killed is- ?" Donatello quirked a brow as he had been deeply drawn into the story as well. The brainy turtle thought that perhaps Mike had a future in story writing after all.
"Well, I figured I'd make the murdered fellow his father, but that was too predictable. I thought of a wife or a girlfriend, kind of a plot twist so if he fell in love with Mandy is would make it a little angsty, but that was predictable, too." The turtle reasoned with a shrug, "The last I thought of was a brother or his son, but then I kinda thought that was a little too evil, even to me." he squirmed a bit in discontent, and at the concerned glances he received he quickly tried to flash a bright smile, "So in the end I decided it was just some friend he had since childhood, because he was an orphan and stuff, ya know?"
"Why must some people have such an emo background?" the cranky turtle mumbled from under the icepack, not bothering to open his eyes.
"Carlos isn't Emo, Raph. He had a good happy life in the orphanage, he grew older and became a rancher before the murder happened, and he had to flee and hide until he could prove his innocence." He corrected, "So far he is accused of murder, and he's not an angsty kind of guy, that's Bob's role." He then amended, and smirked when the hothead stifled a chuckle.
It had come to Michelangelo's attention, that his dear cranky brother finds the name Bob funny.
Deciding to use that trump card later, he cleared his throat to continue, "At any case, I thought of killing off Carlos in the end for the sake of a tragic ending, but I'd rather keep him alive for now, no need for unnecessary deaths, ya know?" he shrugged.
"Also, the pothole I have right now, how do I get the three to join forces against the judge? Who is henceforth be called John Bishop," he grinned at the highly bemused smiles he received in reply, "Bob and Mandy need solid proof that their dad was accused wrongly, and they need the money to free him before his execution, while Carlos wants to capture Bob for being a thief and get the bounty money,"
"Um, if you don't mind me interrupting, Mikey; I don't see how Carlos has anything to do with the plot, basically cause it mostly revolves around Bob and his sister," Donatello interjected, "it's almost as if he's there as a filling character for the sake of romance, not the main hero."
At that, the blue eyed turtle blinked, and then frowned a little, "You think so?" he glanced at the others, but only Leonardo nodded since Raphael had apparently dozed off.
"I think you only put him there for the sake of having a plot twist of Mandy falling in love with him, while he doesn't actually have a reason to be there, considering his story and the siblings' story isn't even connected." Leonardo added, then arched a brow ridge, "Are they against the same judge or something?" he asked, but received a negative shake, so he shrugged, "Then he's more a John Doe, you can skip his part since it doesn't affect the people who are taking the spotlight. You could turn him into the type of guy who is neither good or bad."
The youngest turtle frowned and contemplated the thought, before perking, "Okay, so if I said he did end up killing his friend, but accidentally, and Bob and Mandy's dad was the one accused of doing it, but Carlos never admitted it out of guilt, would it work?"
The two other turtles eyed each other for a moment, while Leonardo shrugged, so Donatello replied, "I guess, I can see that working." The olive green turtle replied with a small frown.
"But that would mean scratching out the bounty part, and perhaps reworking his background story, since Carlos would need to be extra careful when he's walking into sheriff offices to hunt or deliver bounties, wouldn't it?" he questioned.
Michelangelo nodded, a gesture that he'll work on it to make the plot work, "I'll keep it in mind."
Satisfied, the olive green turtle smiled, "And also, Mandy wouldn't fall in love with the man who tossed her father in jail; unless she's such a swindling con-artist, you plan on something clichéd like being so in love with her he'd give himself in, in exchange of her father becoming a free man again." He suggested, now sipping his warm coffee.
"Hey, that actually sounds like a pretty good idea, Donny; thanks." Mike beamed happily.
Donatello grinned then nodded, glad his idea was good enough.
"Cheesy," Raphael drawled sleepily, "why must the hero always be a sap who falls for the dame? And why, if you say he's an experienced hunter, would he fall to an obvious trick like that? Cowboys know sassy or foxy ladies are a front door to trouble, so he should have seen it coming, love-struck or not." he snorted, "Well, unless he's a moron." he grumbled sorely.
"It's a plot device, love is blind, so he might as well be it's guide." The jade green brother shrugged.
The hothead rolled his eyes and adjusted the ice pack, but it had been a while and the ice was starting to melt, therefore the pack wasn't as cold as he preferred it to be, "For once I'd like to see a dame who'd con the guy into giving himself in, and then he or she die a horrible death; bonus if they both die." He grouched, and then slowly pushed himself up, and walked heavily towards the fridge to refill his icepack with more ice, "I'm sick and tired of stereotypical happy endings." He muttered.
"Life at best is bittersweet, Raphael." Donatello said quietly, in an odd but cool voice, "So one might as well make the best of it while it lasted." He somewhat chided, where the tone of voice and lack of expression did not go unnoticed by his concerned kin. "Besides, Westerns are best with happy endings, sad or tragic endings don't really fit the theme too well, and if Mike is aiming for an Action-Drama, then the tragic end isn't a must." He amended, partly succeeding in waving off the concerned glances directed towards him.
Pressing the now cold icepack to his skull, the hothead hissed is satisfaction before he plopped back onto his chair, and propped an elbow on the tabletop, fist under his cheek while his other hand held and pressed the soothing and icy pack on his head.
Leonardo was a little concerned Raphael's headache was not wearing off as soon as it often did, and fretting over what was wrong with Donatello's sudden change in voice tone; thus Michelangelo, not missing a beat, quickly beamed and exclaimed happily from his seat, instantly distracting the worry-wart of a brother from their kin.
"Oh, how about Mandy letting Carlos give himself in by conning him out of revenge, but then feels guilty and tries to get him free by the time he has to be executed? I can see it working if I gave her and Bob a pet hawk, or a raven since they can be trained to fly fast and cut ropes, swooping past objects and stuff, right?" he glanced at the brainy turtle.
The olive green brother smirked, "Well, I've yet to see it done in real life, and I don't think I've heard of anyone training birds to do that, but I guess it's possible if the animals had been given enough practice." He shrugged.
Raphael chuckled, "Yeah, and I can so see a blooper there; the bird accidentally chops Carlos's head instead of the rope." He sniggered, "Whoopsie daisy, guess someone forgot to bring in the stunt devil," he rolled his eyes.
The moment of eerie silence that lingered over the hothead's ears, sent shuddered of lumpy goosebumps all over his skin. Unnerved, and perhaps a little intimidated by the sudden silence, he peeked from under the icepack to the three kin who stared at him, bug eyed and snorting with stifled teary-eyed laughter. A wry smile curled the corner of his mouth, but he was, at the moment, oblivious to what they were about to explode into laughter about.
"Dude, that should so totally be on the 'Things Raphael should never say' list," Michelangelo helplessly squeaked between giggles, then winced and rubbed a tear of laughter from his eyes, "Ow, I think I'm gonna blow a gut." He cackled.
"I think I already did," Leo cringed with a muffled chuckle.
Raphael quirked a weary but mildly humored brow, "What? You mean Whoopsie daisy?"
Donatello suddenly banged his head against the table, helplessly hugging himself tight and giggling madly, trying desperately not to spill his coffee. Raphael couldn't help but blink wide eyed and clearly amused at the brainy turtle's helplessness, before Leonardo lost control over a snigger, and then coughed and took a breather trying to control himself.
Raphael felt partly tickled, wondering what exactly about that phrase his brothers found so hilarious.
Somehow, it reminded him of a movie with Julia Roberts, and the Hughes something guy, but the movie title were lost to him at the moment, the urge not to laugh with his brothers was becoming persistent, "Whoopsie daisy?" he said once more, just to experiment.
This time, Leonardo sputtered with a bellow of laughter, while Michelangelo couldn't stop laughing and latched onto the blue masked turtle to keep himself from falling off his chair. The red masked turtle blinked with a small chuckle; he didn't get what was so funny, but apparently his brothers couldn't handle it, and the sight of them falling all over themselves was a little funny.
He was about to say it one more time, just to see if anyone would keel over and die, but then Leonardo flashed a warning hand, using his free hand to wipe away the tears of uncontrollable mad laughter, "He- it- was funny the first time, Raph! Don't you dare- !" he helplessly gasped between chuckles.
Smirking, the hothead oddly felt a lot better, and the headache almost felt like it had vanished without a trace, so he lowered the icepack to smile a little wearily at his giggle-infested brothers, resisting the urge to chuckle as well, despite the fact he didn't know what they found to hilarious to begin with.
Deciding to be a good sport, he decided not to wear out the laughter by repeating the phase over and over; better save it for later so it would be enjoyed more. So as a good sport, Raphael kept his mouth shut, though quirked in a highly bemused grin, and watched his three stooges-for-brothers' struggle in their fits, haplessly trying to catch their breath.
While observing them as they laughed, it had come to his attention, where Leo laughed heartily and Mike haplessly giggled, Donatello did his darnest not to make a sound when he laughed.
Frankly, he only gasped deeply with long inhales while his face scrunched in a mix of uncontrolled laughter and pain, where a barely heard gasped chuckle would escape his throat. Leo laughed with a merry voice, Mike laughed like a little kid with a mix of giggles and what Raphael counted as a manly laugh, but Donatello didn't make much of a sound when he laughed.
Sure he had heard Don laugh a little like Leo at one point, but that was a mildly entertained chuckle, where this was a full-hearted bellow the brainy turtle couldn't compose, and it was leaving him teary eyed and breathless.
Unfortunately, whenever one of them started giggling again, the other two would lose control and end up sputtering in laughter all over again, to a point Raphael partly found it wearing just a bit on his nerves, and on his hurting ears, or perhaps it was just his hangover making a comeback.
It took the three brothers a good ten minutes before their giggle fit stopped, and they all struggled to compose their breathing and clear their heads, long enough to not grin like idiots at each other.
"Dudes? That should totally go on top of the 'not to say' list, cause my sides hurt." Michelangelo chuckled exhaustedly, while the other two agreed with stifled smiles and nodded, not yet trusting themselves to talk yet.
"So we got to the part where Carlos is about to get executed, what happens after that?" Raphael continued, hoping the distraction would pull the three turtles back on topic, if only so the loud laughter wouldn't prickle his ears with the loudness.
With a stray giggle, the jade green turtle cleared his throat and smiled, "Uh… yeah, I guess that's as far as I've gotten, and right now I forgot what else I needed help with." He grinned wide.
Raphael smirked, and then lifted the ice pack to press it against the wide of his head, "Whoopsie?" he commented with a leer.
Instantly, the three turtles exploded into laughter again, except Leonardo who staggered to get on his feet and attempt to strangle the grinning dark green turtle, for using what he now considered a forbidden word to be spoken.
The hothead dodged the outstretched hands with relevant ease, stood up and then took a step away from the table just to be on the safe side, therefore Leonardo was unable to keep himself steady, not with the laughter pounding against his chest and head, and with Mike latching onto him for balance, he had to stop trying to stand because he didn't want to fall, staggered for a minute and then leaned against the table with a hand on his face.
"What? What I do?" the red masked turtle smiled mischievously, a large shark-like leer flashed across his lips, "And frankly, I can't see the humor in the word; what's wrong with you turtles?" he put a fist on his hip and cocked his head slightly, "If this is what would almost kill three ninjas, then I'd hate to see what you'd do if I spoke with an Australian accent." He snorted.
Unfortunately, that caused the three turtles to suddenly stop all activities, and stare at him with wide bewildered eyes, that soon morphed into hugely expecting eyes, accompanied with wickedly mischievous grins. There were stars practically glinting in their eyes, a shine so bright it was like the reflection of sunlight bouncing off a blade.
He instantly deadpanned, all humor lost as heat warmed his face, "NO!" he snapped in a flustered and hitched tone.
"Why not?" Mike cried between aspiration and laughter, "I mean, Blimey! What were ye thinkin', mate? Were ya tryin' to kill us?" he chortled.
"Mike, don't get me started," the no-longer so-sore hothead cautioned with a predatory smile, but at the somewhat hapless and yet perky expressions he received, he cleared his throat and ignored the heat on his face, "You guys do realize a Brooklyn accent and an Australian accent do not match, right?" he quirked a quizzical brow and grinned wider.
Eagerly, all three nodded, though the dark skinned turtle didn't know if he should worry, or be obliged to knock them out cold with his impersonation of the crocodile hunter.
Suddenly, Michelangelo bolted upright with arms flailed in excitement, "I got it! I'll make John Bishop the evil dude with a British accent, who owns a black market and smuggles endangered animals!" he exclaimed loudly, before hugging the eldest before beaming at the siblings in the kitchen, "Thanks guys! I think I can figure out the rest on my own!" he hugged the olive green turtle next.
But just as he was about to hug the hothead, he got a warning gesture of a knuckle sandwich if he tried. "I still have a hangover, I have an icepack full of ice, and I'm cranky and I'm not afraid to use them!" he mock threatened.
Undaunted, the swift ninja tackled his much stronger brother and in a quick demonstration of skill, hugged and pecked the grouching turtle on the snout, before grinning mischievously and then hightailing out of the room, before the hothead could grab him and shove the ice down- or up his shell.
"Blimey, mate! Ya trying ta poison me?" the hothead suddenly cried and hastily rubbed the smooch mark off his snout, but his voice was tainted with laughter instead of rage. "Bloody bloke, don't know when ta stop badgering me, he doesn't." he mumbled, and then glanced at Leonardo and Donatello, who sat gapping at the dark skinned turtle with brows arched high, too dumbstruck at the moment and unable to come up with a witty remark. "An' what's wrong with you, mates? Cat got ya tongue?" he smirked.
"Okay, that was- awkward." The brainy turtle finally replied, smiling wearily.
"I'll say; though it's not as funny as that 'whoopsie daisy' bit," he sniggered and wiped a tear from his eye, resisted the urge to laugh again at the mere thought of that phrase spoken in Raphael's accent, and then grinned at the smirking hothead, "Do you really not see the humor in that one, Raph? Cause you nearly killed us back there." He murmured.
Raphael shrugged indifferently, "Can't be any worse than other things I've said." He murmured, but at the curious, if not alarmed and dubious arched brows, he stuttered and added, "Err, lets pretend I never said that." he chuckled.
As much as the leader was tempted to pester the hothead to what he meant exactly, he knew his side was too sore from laughing to try. He needed to relax and get the giggle-fit off from even thinking about that funny line, or else he knew he'd lose it, so he decided it was a good time to go with that early meditation session he had spoken of earlier.
"Man, I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard," the Leader finally said as he walked his way out of the kitchen.
"I can," Raphael replied as he followed, aiming to go to his room for a nap in hope to quell the mild ache in his head, and at the questioning glances he continued. "It was when Don accidentally dropped that bomb of laughing gas, and sensei had to knock us all out before we laughed our heads off; teaches ole braniac here not to test his bombs inside the lair." He mock scowled the turtle who followed after them.
"Well, since I had specifically said not to mess with my lab, and since someone tore my gas mask, I am not to blame for that mishap." He sulked, though with a wan grin since he was still with the aftereffects of too much laughing, and wiping the grin from his lips was still a little hard to do. "Besides, you laugh so loud, Raph. I bet it's kinda hard to hear yourself think," he somewhat jibbed.
"At least I aint the one with the soundless laugh, or the girly giggle." He rolled his eyes, as they reached the ward leading to their bedrooms.
Almost as if on cue, a mad yet obviously fake cynically evil laugher erupted from a nearby bedroom, and so the three glanced a little wary at the direction of little bro's bedroom; he sounded like an evil lord plotting the world's demise.
"Is it too late to say I think Mandy and Bob are the most pathetically clichéd names I have ever heard?" the hothead grinned.
Shrugging, the two turtles decided the morning rituals were already over, and they might as well go about their daily life.
From the distance, a cat's hissed screech and the sound of something breaking followed, but the faint 'whoopsie!' did not go unnoticed.
Three fits of uncontrolled laughter erupted, though one was more composed than the other two.
Surely, four turtles are going to have sore sides by the end of the day, but at least it was with a pleasant memory.
In fact, Leonardo figured they should discuss such conversations more often, he found them quite fun and very enjoyable.
A/N: I wrote this to make sure I hadn't forgotten how to write third-person stories. XD; and besides, the plot bunny was too darn persistent to let me forget.