kyabetsu
04-07-2006, 08:47 PM
Blue Book
by Kyabetsu
Thank you, Blue, for the beta!
__________________________________________________ ___________
Day 1: This is my book. Master Splinter said. Master Splinter writes in his book and so will I.
--Leonardo
His notebook was brand new. The bright blue cover lay perfectly straight with the glittering silver spiral twisting in perfectly uniform rings down the side. It made an unsullied rectangle of paper, with no creases, spots, or wrinkles. The paper inside it felt silky smooth and all the light blue lines ran straight to the edge. Leonardo could hardly bring himself to write in it. Any thing he wrote would have to be perfect: no spelling mistakes, no scribbles, and should sit completely straight on those wonderful lines. The notebook would be ruined otherwise!
“Sensei? How do I know what to write in my book?” Leonardo held the precious notebook to his chest, pen in one hand and a worried frown on his face. “What if I don’t write the right thing?”
Splinter patted the worn cushion beside him and beckoned the young turtle to join him. Leonardo clambered up onto the seat. At eight years old, Leo did not have trouble getting into chairs anymore, but his feet would still not quite touch the ground. Splinter waited patiently while his son scooted the final few inches to get his shell all the way back into the sofa. “Leonardo, why did I get you that notebook?”
Leonardo recited almost immediately, “To improve my spelling, my writing, and my reading.”
Splinter nodded. “And?”
Leonardo’s expression faltered, there was more? “Um… to improve my …” What else came with writing, reading and spelling? The turtle searched his father’s face, hoping for some kind of clue. Getting things right was very, very important. It was how Leo showed his sensei how good he was. Seeing no hints in his master’s eyes, Leonardo deflated. “I don’t know.”
Splinter nodded. “No, you do not know, because it is a secret.” He leaned close to his son, whiskers forward, tickling at Leonardo’s face and whispered in his ear. “I got you that book so you could write down your thoughts.”
Leonardo’s eyes sparkled with delight as his father shared his secret, but his brow furrowed. Writing down his thoughts did not seem to make sense. Forgetting to keep it a secret, Leo asked, “Why can’t I just think my thoughts instead?”
Splinter laughed out loud and quickly quieted himself when the sound of coughing from the turtles’ bedroom reminded him that his other sons needed to rest. Keeping his voice low, Splinter pulled a smaller notebook from his pocket. “You know what this is, my son?”
Leonardo squinted and squirmed a bit, trying to figure out where all this was really going. “It’s your notebook for when we all go to sleep.”
Splinter nodded. “Yes, this is the notebook I write in after you and your brothers have gone to bed.” Splinter opened the book, and Leonardo craned his neck to see what was in the notebook. Flipping through the pages, Splinter showed him that there were headings, “Day 245, Day 246, Day 247. Each day, I count one more, and write about what happened that day. Then I can go back whenever I want and read and remember about what happened.”
Splinter picked a passage. “Day 237: I am very glad I started to keep this journal. Today something wonderful happened. I showed my sons how to do the first bokken kata. They all were so excited to practice with the wooden swords, but Leonardo especially. He picked up the basic stances very quickly—faster than I did when I learned! He told me at the end of practice that this was the best lesson ever….” There was more to the writing, but Splinter shut the book at turned to Leonardo. “You see? It is as though someone has written a book of our lives. Instead of reading a storybook about giants or kings, I can read a story about Raphael and Donatello. The best part is, that I wrote that story in my book, so I can choose if I want to share it or not. It is all mine to treasure. My book is private.”
Leonardo’s eyes looked like saucers. “Private” things were especially rare! And this was something that was not only secret, but he did not have to share! (Even though he could if he wanted, which just made not sharing even better.)
Splinter chuckled at the enthusiasm dawning on his son’s face. “Start on ‘day 1,’ Leonardo. You only have to write what you desire. It can be about your family or something you saw or just something you imagined. There is no right answer.”
“No right answer?” Leonardo’s budding interest paused. He recognized this though. Whenever a conversation with Splinter came full-circle without Leo hearing an answer, that meant that Sensei wanted him to figure it out himself.
A thud from the other room drew Splinter’s attention.
“Sensei!” More thick coughing rang out, and Splinter was quick to check on his patients. Leonardo sat in the living room with his notebook and pen for a moment longer. If there were no right answers, he would write whatever he felt like. And since the book was private, no one would know if he had written anything wrong anyways. He hopped up and padded to the kitchen where he sat at the table and wrote, “Day 1:”
________________________________________
Day 4: We had sammiches for lunch. They were good. Mike got mad because Raph switched sammich with him. Mike had the one with the big hole in the bread. Raph thought it was funny. All of Mike's jelly came out the bread hole. Raph said it looked like the sammich took a poo. He used a different word and Splinter got mad.
--Leonardo
“Whatcha writin’ Leo?” Michelangelo tried to peer over his brother’s shoulder as he sat at the kitchen table.
“Nothin’.”
“If you were writin’ nothin’, you wouldn’t be makin’ marks on the paper.” Michelangelo was insightful today.
“It’s private.”
Mike giggled. “You’re writing about your privates?”
Leonardo sighed the long-suffering sigh of those cursed with silly brothers. “NO. The words I’m writing are mine and I don’t have to share them. They’re private.” Leonardo knew that that alone would not be enough to stop Mike’s flood of questions. “Splinter said.” Hopefully that would help.
Michelangelo tilted his head to the side. “Splinter did not say that.”
Leonardo was morally affronted! “He did too!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Did not plus infinity!”
Leonardo blinked. That was cheating! “Did too plus TWO infinity!”
Michelangelo was ready for it, “Did not plus infinity infinity! HA!”
Leonardo held his breath a moment, what did you say to that? He could not just let it go, because Splinter did say that the notebook was private! “You can’t do that! There’s no such thing as infinity infinity.” Not the best answer, but it was true. Mike should not be allowed to say things that were not true to the infinity infinity.
“Nu-UH! I can too cause I just did!”
“Just did what?” Donatello rounded the corner into the kitchen.
Leonardo saw his savior. Donatello knew math really well! He would tell Mike there was no such thing as infinity infinity. “Donatello? Mike said something infinity infinity times. That’s not a real number is it?”
Donatello paused in his tracks; this required some serious thought. “Well. If something’s infinite it’s without end or beginning. So saying something infinite infinity times would be like just saying infinity cause something that goes on forever and ever can’t ever have anything bigger than it. But since Mike’s SAYING something that many times, that’s not true—I mean he can’t. Because infinity is not really a number like that. It’s a state.”
Michelangelo yawned.
Leonardo frowned, “Donatello. Infinity is a number. Ohio and California are states.” Leonardo took his pen and his notebook and went to go write somewhere else.
Day 4 again: Mike tried to see my notebook. Donatello’s not smart really.
--Leonardo again.
_______________________________________
Continued next Post::>
by Kyabetsu
Thank you, Blue, for the beta!
__________________________________________________ ___________
Day 1: This is my book. Master Splinter said. Master Splinter writes in his book and so will I.
--Leonardo
His notebook was brand new. The bright blue cover lay perfectly straight with the glittering silver spiral twisting in perfectly uniform rings down the side. It made an unsullied rectangle of paper, with no creases, spots, or wrinkles. The paper inside it felt silky smooth and all the light blue lines ran straight to the edge. Leonardo could hardly bring himself to write in it. Any thing he wrote would have to be perfect: no spelling mistakes, no scribbles, and should sit completely straight on those wonderful lines. The notebook would be ruined otherwise!
“Sensei? How do I know what to write in my book?” Leonardo held the precious notebook to his chest, pen in one hand and a worried frown on his face. “What if I don’t write the right thing?”
Splinter patted the worn cushion beside him and beckoned the young turtle to join him. Leonardo clambered up onto the seat. At eight years old, Leo did not have trouble getting into chairs anymore, but his feet would still not quite touch the ground. Splinter waited patiently while his son scooted the final few inches to get his shell all the way back into the sofa. “Leonardo, why did I get you that notebook?”
Leonardo recited almost immediately, “To improve my spelling, my writing, and my reading.”
Splinter nodded. “And?”
Leonardo’s expression faltered, there was more? “Um… to improve my …” What else came with writing, reading and spelling? The turtle searched his father’s face, hoping for some kind of clue. Getting things right was very, very important. It was how Leo showed his sensei how good he was. Seeing no hints in his master’s eyes, Leonardo deflated. “I don’t know.”
Splinter nodded. “No, you do not know, because it is a secret.” He leaned close to his son, whiskers forward, tickling at Leonardo’s face and whispered in his ear. “I got you that book so you could write down your thoughts.”
Leonardo’s eyes sparkled with delight as his father shared his secret, but his brow furrowed. Writing down his thoughts did not seem to make sense. Forgetting to keep it a secret, Leo asked, “Why can’t I just think my thoughts instead?”
Splinter laughed out loud and quickly quieted himself when the sound of coughing from the turtles’ bedroom reminded him that his other sons needed to rest. Keeping his voice low, Splinter pulled a smaller notebook from his pocket. “You know what this is, my son?”
Leonardo squinted and squirmed a bit, trying to figure out where all this was really going. “It’s your notebook for when we all go to sleep.”
Splinter nodded. “Yes, this is the notebook I write in after you and your brothers have gone to bed.” Splinter opened the book, and Leonardo craned his neck to see what was in the notebook. Flipping through the pages, Splinter showed him that there were headings, “Day 245, Day 246, Day 247. Each day, I count one more, and write about what happened that day. Then I can go back whenever I want and read and remember about what happened.”
Splinter picked a passage. “Day 237: I am very glad I started to keep this journal. Today something wonderful happened. I showed my sons how to do the first bokken kata. They all were so excited to practice with the wooden swords, but Leonardo especially. He picked up the basic stances very quickly—faster than I did when I learned! He told me at the end of practice that this was the best lesson ever….” There was more to the writing, but Splinter shut the book at turned to Leonardo. “You see? It is as though someone has written a book of our lives. Instead of reading a storybook about giants or kings, I can read a story about Raphael and Donatello. The best part is, that I wrote that story in my book, so I can choose if I want to share it or not. It is all mine to treasure. My book is private.”
Leonardo’s eyes looked like saucers. “Private” things were especially rare! And this was something that was not only secret, but he did not have to share! (Even though he could if he wanted, which just made not sharing even better.)
Splinter chuckled at the enthusiasm dawning on his son’s face. “Start on ‘day 1,’ Leonardo. You only have to write what you desire. It can be about your family or something you saw or just something you imagined. There is no right answer.”
“No right answer?” Leonardo’s budding interest paused. He recognized this though. Whenever a conversation with Splinter came full-circle without Leo hearing an answer, that meant that Sensei wanted him to figure it out himself.
A thud from the other room drew Splinter’s attention.
“Sensei!” More thick coughing rang out, and Splinter was quick to check on his patients. Leonardo sat in the living room with his notebook and pen for a moment longer. If there were no right answers, he would write whatever he felt like. And since the book was private, no one would know if he had written anything wrong anyways. He hopped up and padded to the kitchen where he sat at the table and wrote, “Day 1:”
________________________________________
Day 4: We had sammiches for lunch. They were good. Mike got mad because Raph switched sammich with him. Mike had the one with the big hole in the bread. Raph thought it was funny. All of Mike's jelly came out the bread hole. Raph said it looked like the sammich took a poo. He used a different word and Splinter got mad.
--Leonardo
“Whatcha writin’ Leo?” Michelangelo tried to peer over his brother’s shoulder as he sat at the kitchen table.
“Nothin’.”
“If you were writin’ nothin’, you wouldn’t be makin’ marks on the paper.” Michelangelo was insightful today.
“It’s private.”
Mike giggled. “You’re writing about your privates?”
Leonardo sighed the long-suffering sigh of those cursed with silly brothers. “NO. The words I’m writing are mine and I don’t have to share them. They’re private.” Leonardo knew that that alone would not be enough to stop Mike’s flood of questions. “Splinter said.” Hopefully that would help.
Michelangelo tilted his head to the side. “Splinter did not say that.”
Leonardo was morally affronted! “He did too!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Did not plus infinity!”
Leonardo blinked. That was cheating! “Did too plus TWO infinity!”
Michelangelo was ready for it, “Did not plus infinity infinity! HA!”
Leonardo held his breath a moment, what did you say to that? He could not just let it go, because Splinter did say that the notebook was private! “You can’t do that! There’s no such thing as infinity infinity.” Not the best answer, but it was true. Mike should not be allowed to say things that were not true to the infinity infinity.
“Nu-UH! I can too cause I just did!”
“Just did what?” Donatello rounded the corner into the kitchen.
Leonardo saw his savior. Donatello knew math really well! He would tell Mike there was no such thing as infinity infinity. “Donatello? Mike said something infinity infinity times. That’s not a real number is it?”
Donatello paused in his tracks; this required some serious thought. “Well. If something’s infinite it’s without end or beginning. So saying something infinite infinity times would be like just saying infinity cause something that goes on forever and ever can’t ever have anything bigger than it. But since Mike’s SAYING something that many times, that’s not true—I mean he can’t. Because infinity is not really a number like that. It’s a state.”
Michelangelo yawned.
Leonardo frowned, “Donatello. Infinity is a number. Ohio and California are states.” Leonardo took his pen and his notebook and went to go write somewhere else.
Day 4 again: Mike tried to see my notebook. Donatello’s not smart really.
--Leonardo again.
_______________________________________
Continued next Post::>