Post by Raphael on Feb 16, 2010 9:55:09 GMT -5
It was purple.
Each wall was pock free, even and clean and the same gloriously resplendent shade.
All their hard work and it had turned out like this. They both stood back to survey the lair. Mikey stared in shock, eyes wide, paintbrush dangling from his hand.
Raphael tossed his brush into the sink, turning on the hot water and noting a change that made him turn his head quickly to look back at his brother.
"Now we can go off and -" Mike stopped, as he was placing his paintbrush back into the bucket, eyes lifting to look at the walls.
"Done. Finally," Raphael grunted as he stood up, stretching his back and cracking his neck, "Damn I need a beer."
"You almost done there, bro, because one last stroke here and TADA!" Mikey announced in relief and loudly, a little heady from a the paint fumes he'd been breathing in for hours.
Hour after hour of furious stroking and rolling and reaching had taken a serious toll on Raphael's good humor.
"Well, I thought it was pretty funny!" Mikey said huffily as they once again lapsed into silence, only the rolling of paint accompanying their so unfair task.
"Oh Har har, I'm peeing my shell, Mikey," Raphael muttered, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his forearm.
"So two turtles walk into a bar, and one says, shell I get you something to drink and the other responds, only if it's a shello shot." Mikey finished his joke and laughed uproariously.
"No, not particularly," Raph answered, more preoccupied with getting done with the job at hand than listening to Mikey talk.
"So, wanna hear a joke? I came up with it just now and it's great!" Mikey doesn't wait to hear Raph's reply and goes on to relate his hilarious and divinely inspired joke. Two hours in and it was starting to look like they were nearing the home stretch; they were barely even looking at the work anymore just moving as quickly as they could to get it done.
"This will be a piece of cake! Especially with ol' Mikey here to entertain you, bro." Michelangelo elbowed his brother, not exactly looking forward to their punishment but not dreading it either.
"Son of a bitch, this is not how I wanted to spend my Saturday," Raphael slouched next to Michelangelo and was doing his damndest to rebuke the consequences of their actions.
Mike sighed as Splinter walked away from them. "Man, this really sucks and is so unfair."
The elderly rat shook his head at his wayward sons, "In this perhaps you will learn to take responsibility for your actions," he chastised gently before turning to hobble toward the sanctity of his room. Mikey was beginning to get a crick in his neck, his head bowed for what seemed like hours as his Sensei lectured him and Raph.
"You must learn to be more careful of your actions," Splinter looked firmly from son to son, "Our home is in need of enough repairs without the two of you adding holes in the walls." "I am very disappointed in both of you." Splinter looked towards the walls of the room one more time before shaking his head.
Raphael plopped his shell down on the sofa, waiting to hear it, already having trouble keeping the scowl of irritation off his face. Mike had been having a good Saturday so far, watching cartoons and general lazying about, until he saw Raph drudge into the room with Splinter. Maaaaan. Raph tried not to roll his eyes at his elderly Master, but he knew what this was about. Splinter had finally found the other culprit who up to now had seemed to be avoiding him rather deftly. "Raphael, a word if you please."
Raphael glanced up from where he was trying to look inconspicuous slouched down in the rolling chair as the pitter-pat of familiar steps came his way. A small smirk crossed Splinter's face, none of his sons could hide from him forever, and he opened the ajar door to Don's lab all the way. Music was coming from the alcove Donatello used as his room away from room, which by itself wasn't particularly suspicious, but the choice of music, however: Marilyn Manson, was suspicious indeed.
Splinter looked down from the railing, making sure they Mikey hadn't moved from his spot on the sofa, glad to have one of his targets already in place, before passing the lab to recheck that Raph hadn't given him the slip back into his room.
A scowl crossed the irate Father's face as he considered what to do with who might be responsible for this. His fist clenched tightly on the handle of his tea as he surveyed the damage one more time. "Michelangelo and Raphael," He murmured to himself.
Splinter stopped and stared at the shell-shaped hole in the wall as well as several areas where the wall had a certain familiar shell pattern imprinted on it. Shuffling into the living room with a cup of his favorite tea in one hand and the TV guide in another, Master Splinter prepared to enjoy an evening catching up with his favorite shows, when something demanded his attention out of the corner of his eye. Splinter had had a day of relaxing meditation in the morning, followed by a delicious Michelangelo extra cheesy omelet, and his romance novel had a wonderful but tearful ending, and now he had brewed a perfect cup of tea; nothing could ruin his mood.
Without even a glance at his brother, Raphael split, making a beeline for the last place he figured anyone would look for him. Raph stared alongside his brother at the Michelangelo shaped hole in the wall he had just added to the rest of their 'decorations.'
Mikey flopped forward onto his knees with a groan, glancing back with a guilty expression, "Oops." A loud thud and crack echoed across the room as Raph gained the upper hand and with the forward momentum from his lunge pushed Mike into the wall. Raph squared his shoulders and dropped into a defensive lineman squat, lunging forward with his teeth bared. Mikey shoved Raph away from him with a low kick to the stomach, and now they stared at each other, separated by only a few feet.
"Fuck," Raphael ground his teeth, rubbing at the wound viciously and thinking of all the ways he would punish his little brother.
He thought he had the upper hand on his brother, grinding him hard into the wall, until Mike reached down and pinched him hard. Raph saw the fear in his brother's eyes as he moved forward, twirling a sai and then tucking it back into his belt, before planting both hands on Mike's shoulders and thrusting him back into unforgiving concrete.
Mike had just landed a hard punch straight across Raph's jaw then backed up, hoping his brother was still willing to roughhouse with him and not turn their play into something more serious and un-fun. He staggered backward and stared up at his brother with a narrowed gaze. Raph had mostly dominated the whole fight, using his heavier weight and power to keep his brother down, until Mike came across a lucky break.
Odds and ends were flung about in the frenzied struggle: a sponge cake flattened underfoot, a lidless purple sharpie flying through the air to sink into a cannister of paint, the coffee table upturned and a lamp shattering as it was elbowed into a far wall. They tussled across the living room, alternating between tickling and getting in a good blow or two, careless of where their roughhousing took them.
Raphael lunged first, fingers outstretched in a mock menacing manner and a wry smirk plastered over his beak.
"Are you ready to ruuuuuuuuuuuuuumble!" Mikey crowed out, flexing his muscles to an imaginer y crowd before turning back to Raph.
Raphael got up from his seat on the sofa and cracked his knuckles, eying his brother.
Raph, feeling equally the same, grinned at his Mike's idea.
"We'd make way better wrestlers than those clown bozos," Michelangelo quipped as he sprang to his feet adopting a fighter's stance, "In THIS CORNER THE INFAMOUS MICHELANGELO and in THIS corner the NOTORIOUS RAPHAEL!"
"Fucking pansies."
He glanced at his volatile brother for his reaction to the foursome squaring off in the ring.
Mike scooted over as his brother plotzed down beside him on the couch, the sounds of exaggerated groans and yells emanating from the TV. He finally settled on Wrestling as Raphael came into the room; The Insane Clown Posse was up against another duo he didn't recognize.
You'd think with all these channels Don had hooked them up with something would be on.
Click Click Click went the remote as he surfed through channel after channel of news -boring-, kid's shows -what was WITH this Hannah Montana deal?- and infomercials -there were really only so many times one could watch the ShamWow schpeil and still be amazed-. For one of the first days in several weeks, Mike had had the day free from any responsibilities, and he was going to spend it right here, with his friendly TV and handy remote.
FIN
Each wall was pock free, even and clean and the same gloriously resplendent shade.
All their hard work and it had turned out like this. They both stood back to survey the lair. Mikey stared in shock, eyes wide, paintbrush dangling from his hand.
Raphael tossed his brush into the sink, turning on the hot water and noting a change that made him turn his head quickly to look back at his brother.
"Now we can go off and -" Mike stopped, as he was placing his paintbrush back into the bucket, eyes lifting to look at the walls.
"Done. Finally," Raphael grunted as he stood up, stretching his back and cracking his neck, "Damn I need a beer."
"You almost done there, bro, because one last stroke here and TADA!" Mikey announced in relief and loudly, a little heady from a the paint fumes he'd been breathing in for hours.
Hour after hour of furious stroking and rolling and reaching had taken a serious toll on Raphael's good humor.
"Well, I thought it was pretty funny!" Mikey said huffily as they once again lapsed into silence, only the rolling of paint accompanying their so unfair task.
"Oh Har har, I'm peeing my shell, Mikey," Raphael muttered, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his forearm.
"So two turtles walk into a bar, and one says, shell I get you something to drink and the other responds, only if it's a shello shot." Mikey finished his joke and laughed uproariously.
"No, not particularly," Raph answered, more preoccupied with getting done with the job at hand than listening to Mikey talk.
"So, wanna hear a joke? I came up with it just now and it's great!" Mikey doesn't wait to hear Raph's reply and goes on to relate his hilarious and divinely inspired joke. Two hours in and it was starting to look like they were nearing the home stretch; they were barely even looking at the work anymore just moving as quickly as they could to get it done.
"This will be a piece of cake! Especially with ol' Mikey here to entertain you, bro." Michelangelo elbowed his brother, not exactly looking forward to their punishment but not dreading it either.
"Son of a bitch, this is not how I wanted to spend my Saturday," Raphael slouched next to Michelangelo and was doing his damndest to rebuke the consequences of their actions.
Mike sighed as Splinter walked away from them. "Man, this really sucks and is so unfair."
The elderly rat shook his head at his wayward sons, "In this perhaps you will learn to take responsibility for your actions," he chastised gently before turning to hobble toward the sanctity of his room. Mikey was beginning to get a crick in his neck, his head bowed for what seemed like hours as his Sensei lectured him and Raph.
"You must learn to be more careful of your actions," Splinter looked firmly from son to son, "Our home is in need of enough repairs without the two of you adding holes in the walls." "I am very disappointed in both of you." Splinter looked towards the walls of the room one more time before shaking his head.
Raphael plopped his shell down on the sofa, waiting to hear it, already having trouble keeping the scowl of irritation off his face. Mike had been having a good Saturday so far, watching cartoons and general lazying about, until he saw Raph drudge into the room with Splinter. Maaaaan. Raph tried not to roll his eyes at his elderly Master, but he knew what this was about. Splinter had finally found the other culprit who up to now had seemed to be avoiding him rather deftly. "Raphael, a word if you please."
Raphael glanced up from where he was trying to look inconspicuous slouched down in the rolling chair as the pitter-pat of familiar steps came his way. A small smirk crossed Splinter's face, none of his sons could hide from him forever, and he opened the ajar door to Don's lab all the way. Music was coming from the alcove Donatello used as his room away from room, which by itself wasn't particularly suspicious, but the choice of music, however: Marilyn Manson, was suspicious indeed.
Splinter looked down from the railing, making sure they Mikey hadn't moved from his spot on the sofa, glad to have one of his targets already in place, before passing the lab to recheck that Raph hadn't given him the slip back into his room.
A scowl crossed the irate Father's face as he considered what to do with who might be responsible for this. His fist clenched tightly on the handle of his tea as he surveyed the damage one more time. "Michelangelo and Raphael," He murmured to himself.
Splinter stopped and stared at the shell-shaped hole in the wall as well as several areas where the wall had a certain familiar shell pattern imprinted on it. Shuffling into the living room with a cup of his favorite tea in one hand and the TV guide in another, Master Splinter prepared to enjoy an evening catching up with his favorite shows, when something demanded his attention out of the corner of his eye. Splinter had had a day of relaxing meditation in the morning, followed by a delicious Michelangelo extra cheesy omelet, and his romance novel had a wonderful but tearful ending, and now he had brewed a perfect cup of tea; nothing could ruin his mood.
Without even a glance at his brother, Raphael split, making a beeline for the last place he figured anyone would look for him. Raph stared alongside his brother at the Michelangelo shaped hole in the wall he had just added to the rest of their 'decorations.'
Mikey flopped forward onto his knees with a groan, glancing back with a guilty expression, "Oops." A loud thud and crack echoed across the room as Raph gained the upper hand and with the forward momentum from his lunge pushed Mike into the wall. Raph squared his shoulders and dropped into a defensive lineman squat, lunging forward with his teeth bared. Mikey shoved Raph away from him with a low kick to the stomach, and now they stared at each other, separated by only a few feet.
"Fuck," Raphael ground his teeth, rubbing at the wound viciously and thinking of all the ways he would punish his little brother.
He thought he had the upper hand on his brother, grinding him hard into the wall, until Mike reached down and pinched him hard. Raph saw the fear in his brother's eyes as he moved forward, twirling a sai and then tucking it back into his belt, before planting both hands on Mike's shoulders and thrusting him back into unforgiving concrete.
Mike had just landed a hard punch straight across Raph's jaw then backed up, hoping his brother was still willing to roughhouse with him and not turn their play into something more serious and un-fun. He staggered backward and stared up at his brother with a narrowed gaze. Raph had mostly dominated the whole fight, using his heavier weight and power to keep his brother down, until Mike came across a lucky break.
Odds and ends were flung about in the frenzied struggle: a sponge cake flattened underfoot, a lidless purple sharpie flying through the air to sink into a cannister of paint, the coffee table upturned and a lamp shattering as it was elbowed into a far wall. They tussled across the living room, alternating between tickling and getting in a good blow or two, careless of where their roughhousing took them.
Raphael lunged first, fingers outstretched in a mock menacing manner and a wry smirk plastered over his beak.
"Are you ready to ruuuuuuuuuuuuuumble!" Mikey crowed out, flexing his muscles to an imaginer y crowd before turning back to Raph.
Raphael got up from his seat on the sofa and cracked his knuckles, eying his brother.
Raph, feeling equally the same, grinned at his Mike's idea.
"We'd make way better wrestlers than those clown bozos," Michelangelo quipped as he sprang to his feet adopting a fighter's stance, "In THIS CORNER THE INFAMOUS MICHELANGELO and in THIS corner the NOTORIOUS RAPHAEL!"
"Fucking pansies."
He glanced at his volatile brother for his reaction to the foursome squaring off in the ring.
Mike scooted over as his brother plotzed down beside him on the couch, the sounds of exaggerated groans and yells emanating from the TV. He finally settled on Wrestling as Raphael came into the room; The Insane Clown Posse was up against another duo he didn't recognize.
You'd think with all these channels Don had hooked them up with something would be on.
Click Click Click went the remote as he surfed through channel after channel of news -boring-, kid's shows -what was WITH this Hannah Montana deal?- and infomercials -there were really only so many times one could watch the ShamWow schpeil and still be amazed-. For one of the first days in several weeks, Mike had had the day free from any responsibilities, and he was going to spend it right here, with his friendly TV and handy remote.
FIN