Vivi
09-16-2012, 10:08 AM
A short story inspired by the thoughts of what happens to Klunk. Note: there is a little swearing so please be old/mature enough to read.
Michelangelo sat in front of the computer pensively, having wrangled a spare hour off of Donatello. He tapped lightly at the keys, not hard enough to type anything, but enough to hear the hollow clack of his finger pads against the molded plastic, as if mapping out his future sentences.
“Hm, how should I put this, little buddy?”
Klunk, wedged under the monitor, barely appraised this thought with a sleepy stretch of his arm.
“Good. Good input. I’ll be sure to swing all my ideas by you.”
He gave the little cat a neck scratch. Klunk’s eyes slit open a fraction, and then clamped back shut with a sigh-like purr.
“So, focus Mikey.” He bit his lips together, as the words began to form.
April,
I’ve put a lot of thought into this, so hear me out. I guess you know that this job comes with a lot of occupational hazards, and by 'this job' I mean regularly kicking ass and such. Just last Tuesday Raph spent an hour sealing up some of the deeper sword cracks on his shell with salve wax, and I know it must’ve been a bad hit because normally he thinks he’s a badass if he lets it get infected and sh*t. What a dumbass, but that’s my bro. And that was just a little tumble with some knock-about low time crims that wanted to try out the display katanas (amateurs, obvs) they jacked from the local pawn shop. Let me tell you, they were as blunt as f*ck, but as heavy as hell. Thus the deep cracks. Leo managed to knock out another asshole last Friday that had a gun and almost shot me at close range. Lucky he saw him before I did, I guess. I was too busy with his buddy who had gone commando on Don with a meteor hammer. That sh*t left spiral bruises and two inch gashes all down his leg, and still he goes for his afternoon strolls. Now there’s a badass. And you can bet your life that I didn’t let that guy get away with doing that to the brains trust. I launched my chucks at his neck so fast that now he’ll be croaking his plea in court, that is, if the foot witness disposal program don’t get him first. Leo had a stray bullet skim past his temple that night. It left more of a burn wound than anything, but jeez, thinking about scares the sh*t out of me. Just like that, he could have been gone. But he’s a survivor, the old Leo, I bet he could see it coming. Haha.
Anyway, point is, our list of enemies seems to keep growing, and as much as I’m a live and let live kinda guy, it seems that our encounters are usually the first punch sort. So, now that I’ve painted a merry picture of the day to day shitstorm that is our lives, I get to the real question: You have to promise me that if you don’t hear from us, or if we’re missing, or if something does happen to us, that you can take care of Klunk. Sometimes I don’t know myself if I’ll make it back, so if something should happen…
Michelangelo paused briefly, trying to articulate his thoughts.
...if something should happen to us, I couldn’t forgive myself if there was no-one here for Klunk. He’s been my best little bud since the day we met. I don’t want to let him down, even if I’m not around anymore. So please, please give us a holla every so often so that you know we’re still down here, in the dark underground, feeding my cat. I've got a small amount of money saved for some food etc. if it ever comes to that. Anyway, I guess that’s all I have to say about that. And in case you were wondering, Raphael’s back did get infected and I made it my duty to slap him on the shell as often as possible. Such a dumbass.
Thanks April, you’re the best.
Mikey xx’
“That’ll do, pig.” He said grinning. With a slight flick of his arm he pushed the mouse over the send button, and clicked.
It was then that Leonardo burst into the room, switched on and eyes blazing.
“Mikey,” he said firmly, “Grab your things, something’s come up.”
Michelangelo shot up, startling Klunk,
“I’m ready,” he patted his nunchaku at his side, “Let’s go.”
Michelangelo sat in front of the computer pensively, having wrangled a spare hour off of Donatello. He tapped lightly at the keys, not hard enough to type anything, but enough to hear the hollow clack of his finger pads against the molded plastic, as if mapping out his future sentences.
“Hm, how should I put this, little buddy?”
Klunk, wedged under the monitor, barely appraised this thought with a sleepy stretch of his arm.
“Good. Good input. I’ll be sure to swing all my ideas by you.”
He gave the little cat a neck scratch. Klunk’s eyes slit open a fraction, and then clamped back shut with a sigh-like purr.
“So, focus Mikey.” He bit his lips together, as the words began to form.
April,
I’ve put a lot of thought into this, so hear me out. I guess you know that this job comes with a lot of occupational hazards, and by 'this job' I mean regularly kicking ass and such. Just last Tuesday Raph spent an hour sealing up some of the deeper sword cracks on his shell with salve wax, and I know it must’ve been a bad hit because normally he thinks he’s a badass if he lets it get infected and sh*t. What a dumbass, but that’s my bro. And that was just a little tumble with some knock-about low time crims that wanted to try out the display katanas (amateurs, obvs) they jacked from the local pawn shop. Let me tell you, they were as blunt as f*ck, but as heavy as hell. Thus the deep cracks. Leo managed to knock out another asshole last Friday that had a gun and almost shot me at close range. Lucky he saw him before I did, I guess. I was too busy with his buddy who had gone commando on Don with a meteor hammer. That sh*t left spiral bruises and two inch gashes all down his leg, and still he goes for his afternoon strolls. Now there’s a badass. And you can bet your life that I didn’t let that guy get away with doing that to the brains trust. I launched my chucks at his neck so fast that now he’ll be croaking his plea in court, that is, if the foot witness disposal program don’t get him first. Leo had a stray bullet skim past his temple that night. It left more of a burn wound than anything, but jeez, thinking about scares the sh*t out of me. Just like that, he could have been gone. But he’s a survivor, the old Leo, I bet he could see it coming. Haha.
Anyway, point is, our list of enemies seems to keep growing, and as much as I’m a live and let live kinda guy, it seems that our encounters are usually the first punch sort. So, now that I’ve painted a merry picture of the day to day shitstorm that is our lives, I get to the real question: You have to promise me that if you don’t hear from us, or if we’re missing, or if something does happen to us, that you can take care of Klunk. Sometimes I don’t know myself if I’ll make it back, so if something should happen…
Michelangelo paused briefly, trying to articulate his thoughts.
...if something should happen to us, I couldn’t forgive myself if there was no-one here for Klunk. He’s been my best little bud since the day we met. I don’t want to let him down, even if I’m not around anymore. So please, please give us a holla every so often so that you know we’re still down here, in the dark underground, feeding my cat. I've got a small amount of money saved for some food etc. if it ever comes to that. Anyway, I guess that’s all I have to say about that. And in case you were wondering, Raphael’s back did get infected and I made it my duty to slap him on the shell as often as possible. Such a dumbass.
Thanks April, you’re the best.
Mikey xx’
“That’ll do, pig.” He said grinning. With a slight flick of his arm he pushed the mouse over the send button, and clicked.
It was then that Leonardo burst into the room, switched on and eyes blazing.
“Mikey,” he said firmly, “Grab your things, something’s come up.”
Michelangelo shot up, startling Klunk,
“I’m ready,” he patted his nunchaku at his side, “Let’s go.”