So I managed to find a couple other writers who are interested in actually producing some writing instead of falling into the pit of uselessness that I have only just recently crawled out of.
So once a month I will be posting my exploits! This month’s theme was fan fic — you know, start us off easy. I went with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, if that wasn’t already obvious from the post title. I didn’t polish it or anything, I mostly just wanted to get my muscles moving again. Also, I grew up on the ’80’s cartoon and the live action movies, so I’m working from those universes. I decided to go with the lore where Splinter was once Hamato Yoshi, as opposed to Yoshi’s pet rat. (A pet rat learning karate? That’s just nuts!) Enjoy!
Here’s the super awesome theme song to get you in the mood :)
The sewers were super Mother-of-God stinky that day. Michelangelo, in his usual almost-helpful way, had ordered several anchovy and bleu cheese pizzas in an effort to cover it up, but it really wasn’t working. Plus, to add insult to injury, the other three turtles thought bleu cheese on a pizza was practically sacrilegious.
“You might as well put ranch dressing on it and move to Santa Monica,” grumbled Raphael. “You can’t even pick this crapola off.”
“Leave him alone, Raph, he was just trying to help.” Leonardo diplomatically chewed his slice, but his heart wasn’t in it.
“I like it!” Michelangelo enthused, helping himself to another half of a pie.
“Yo Donnie, can’t you dream up some sort of wind machine to blow this stink outta here? It fricken reeks!”
Without removing his protective goggles, Donatello poked his head out from the second story of his workshop and looked down at his brothers. Raph’s red-masked green face glared up at him. “There are too many tunnels. By the time I finish building enough turbines, it would be high tide again.”
“Besides, it’d be a waste of energy to power them all,” added Leonardo. “Just deal with it, Raphael. There’s nothing we can do. Master Splinter said we had to stay down here while he was away.”
“We could have asked him before he left, but someone wanted to be a goodie goodie two-shell. . .”
“How many times do I have to remind you that Master doesn’t like to be interrupted while he’s packing?! He could forget something!”
“Yeah, like his toothbrush!” Michelangelo said helpfully.
“Damn it, Donnie, can’t you do anything? Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of genius inventor dude?! Ouch!” Raphael rubbed his nose and looked down at the projectile his brother had chucked at him with stinging accuracy. At his feet was a clothespin.
“Ooo, Donnie’s throwing presents!” Said Michelangelo, bounding to Raphael’s side and leaving a trail of toppings and hot pepper packets. “I want one! Ouch!”