The Adventures of Azure Turtle
One Fateful Day
Chapter 4: Breakfast
By Azure Turtle
Disclaimer: Azure is my own created character. Please do not use him without my permission. All TMNT characters belong to Peter Laird, Kevin Eastman, and Mirage Publishing.
I’m just a fan who wants to express my enthusiasm for the TMNT through fanfics. Please don’t hurt me.
I awoke from my dreamless sleep, blinking a few times to get my eyes adjusted to the dim light. I was shocked at my immediate surroundings, and I quickly sat up, looking around me. Then I remembered everything that had happened earlier.
“What’s wrong?” a voice asked from my right. I turned in that direction and saw a concerned look on a giant, green turtle’s face.
“Oh … I just forgot where I am. That’s all,” I explained. I tried hard to remember the name of the grinning turtle before me. “You’re Michaelangelo, right?”
“The one and only!” he stood up from his seat and performed a small bow. I smiled at his antics. “So, you feeling all right? Do you need anything? Pain killers? More food? Thirsty?” he flooded me with questions.
“I … uh … no, no, I think I’ll be fine, thank you. I still feel a little sore, but other than that, I’m okay,” I replied. “How long have I been asleep?”
Michaelangelo looked at a nearby clock, hung crookedly on the wall. “Oh, ‘bout six hours, give or take.”
“No wonder I feel sore. I’ve been in bed for too long.” I tried to get out of the bed, but my body still ached. I managed to get my legs over the side of the bed, but I didn’t feel like standing up just yet.
“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Michaelangelo said, looking over me with worry. It was then that I noticed he had been holding something in one of his hands. It looked like some sort of notebook.
“What’s that?” I pointed to the item in question. It was black, and the signs of wear and tear were obvious.
“This? Eh … just something I write in when I get bored,” he smiled at my sudden interest in his notebook.
“I see …”
“Hey, if you’re interested, maybe I can show you some of the stuff I’ve written once you feel a little bit better. I’m not Mark Twain, but I think my writing’s decent.” He smirked.
“Sure, I’d love to … Sal used to own a lot of books. He had shelves full of them. He even had some of Mark Twain’s writings. If it weren’t for him, I probably would’ve never picked up an interest in reading and writing …” My voice trailed off as I remembered my poor father, struggling to teach me my first lessons in English. I was a little slow at picking up the ideas, but Sal was so patient. He never yelled at me for being so stupid; instead, he just grew more determined. Sal really wanted me to learn as much as I could. He had always hoped that someday, I would be able to receive a “proper” education, but he knew the world wasn’t ready to accept me. I felt my eyes grow hot and moist with tears.
Michaelangelo approached me and knelt down before me, so that he could see me eye to eye. “Hey, cheer up, lil’ dude! I know you’ve been through a lot. C’mon … let’s go to the kitchen. We can talk about it over some muffins and hot cocoa. You do like hot cocoa, right?” He smiled gently.
“Ya …” I quietly replied.
“Good! Let’s go. Upsey daisey!” Michaelangelo helped me to my feet and tossed his worn-out notebook on the desk I had seen earlier. He then guided me out of his room. I had never seen the rest of this home, and after walking out of a narrow hallway, I was impressed with what I saw. The room was quite spacious, bigger than the apartment Sal and I used to live in. The living room came complete with a TV and a giant, brown couch right in front of it. The couch looked like it had been in use for a long time. There were a few tears and it seemed lopsided in several places. It was an old soldier, with the scars of war to prove his endurance.
The “kitchen” was across from the living room, but there was no wall separating the two rooms. The kitchen had all kinds of appliances: a fridge, a microwave, an oven, and a lot of other little gadgets. There was even a large table that sat in the middle of the kitchen. Michaelangelo pulled out a chair and helped me sit down. I was so busy taking in all of my surroundings that I didn’t realize Michaelangelo was talking to me.
“Yoohoo, earth to Azure! You there, lil’ dude?” he waved his hand in front of my face.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” I quickly snapped out of my daze. “What were you saying?”
“Would you like marshmallows in your hot cocoa?” he grinned.
“Yes, please! And thank you,” I replied.
“One hot cocoa with marshmallows and a blueberry muffin, coming right up!” Michealangelo danced around the kitchen as he prepared the small snack. He opened the oven while humming a cheerful rendition of “Do You Know the Muffin Man”. The smell of freshly baked muffins filled the room, and my mouth watered in anticipation of the sweet, moist, crumbly treat that I was about to indulge in.
“Yo, Mikey, make that two muffins, and throw in a cup of coffee while you’re at it.”
I jumped at the voice behind me and strained my neck to see who it was. A turtle wearing a purple mask smiled warmly at me.
“I see you’re up early!” Donatello continued to smile as he pulled up a seat next to me.
“Hi … Donatello, right?” I smiled meekly.
“Right. You’ve got a good memory for someone who’s slept like a log the past few days.” He grinned.
“Would you like anything else, your highness? Perhaps some caviar to go with that?” Michaelangelo interrupted our conversation and stuck his tongue out at Donatello, as he placed a muffin on the table for each one of us.
“No, that will be all. Ah, looks like you’ve done a fine job with breakfast, humble servant,” Donatello teased as he stared at the giant muffin sitting before him.
“My thanks, kind sir,” Michaelangelo grinned as he joined us at the table. “Well, go on, lil’ dude, dig in. It’s been six hours since all of that pizza you ate. You should be hungry by now!”
I quickly nodded in response, before taking a big bite out of the delicious muffin, and taking a sip of the warm, comforting cocoa. I continued to bite and sip in rapid succession, while Donatello and Michaelangelo sat in awe at my rabid appetite.
“It looks like our guest will need more muffins, Mikey.” Donatello chuckled.
“Heh heh heh … I think you’re right,” he gave me a smile as he placed the whole batch of muffins on the middle of the table. I eyed them greedily, but I refrained from taking one. I simply sat and stared at my empty plate, picking at the crumbs. I didn’t want to be rude to such kind hosts, and Sal had always taught me to mind my manners.
“Hey,
why’d you stop? My muffins are the best in
Michaelangelo was obviously amused by my appetite, as he continued to watch me eat without even taking a taste of his own cooking. Donatello, on the other hand, kept an eye on me while eating his muffin at the same time.
I paused to take a breath from my feast. The muffins were absolutely delicious. I didn’t know what Michaelangelo did to them, but they were heavenly. Very light and moist, and they almost melted in my mouth. The sweetness of the bread blended flawlessly with the tartness of the blueberries. Since I was taking a break from inhaling all of the muffins before me, I took this opportunity to look at my surroundings once more. Then I noticed something. “Hey guys, why don’t you have any windows?” I asked, looking at the two turtles before me. They glanced at each other, before bursting out in laughter.
“Azure, I think it’s safe to assume that having windows in the sewer is not a very good idea,” Donatello explained. He continued to chuckle at my question.
“You mean … we’re in the sewers? This isn’t a house?” I was aghast at the notion. Michaelangelo nodded in response. “Why in the world did you choose to live in the sewers?”
“We don’t have much of a choice, lil’ dude,” Michaelangelo had a bit of sadness in his eyes. “We can’t live on the surface. It’s too dangerous, and humans wouldn’t understand us. Besides, if we live down here, Shredder won’t be able to find us so easily.” He noticed that I still sat with my mouth wide open in surprise. “Why, where’d you live before ending up down here?”
“Well, I used to live in an apartment with Sal, but he … after he died, I ended up living on the streets for several weeks.” My voice softened, and I felt my eyes start to water again. Every time I thought of Sal, I realized how much I missed him.
The two turtles before me nodded, and gave me looks of sympathy.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Michaelangelo gently replied.
“Likewise,” Donatello added.
I wiped my eyes once more. “It’s okay … there’s nothing I can do about it now. Um … do you guys know what time it is?”
Donatello looked slightly confused by my sudden change of
the subject, but he smiled as if he understood the sensitivity of my
situation. “It’s
“And some of us are still trying to sleep!” a voice boomed from behind me. I jumped again. “What’s with all this chatter?” I turned around and saw Raphael glaring at me. A feeling of dread washed over my body. I knew he was still angry with me for the little incident that occurred earlier. “And why is that kid sitting in my chair?” He frowned at me.
“I’m sorry.” I began to get up, but Michaelangelo stopped me.
“Don’t you listen to him, lil’ dude. You’re still in pain; you shouldn’t be moving around so much. Raph, why don’t you take a seat over there?”
Raphael growled at me as he took his place at the table, next to Donatello. Donatello slyly grinned. “Sleep well, brother dear?”
“No, I didn’t, geekasaurus,” Raphael curtly replied.
“Yep, same old ‘I’m not a morning person’ Raph,” Michaelangelo laughed.
“Shaddup, Mikey. I really hate mornings. But you know what I hate even more? Having my sleep disturbed by all of this noise.” He glared daggers at me from his new position at the table.
I hung my head sadly.
“Aw, give the kid a break, Raph,” Michaelangelo pleaded. “He’s a guest.”
Raphael grunted a “Hmph!” in response before crossing his arms defiantly and turning his glare to Michaelangelo.
Before Raphael could come up with some sort of insult, Michaelangelo quickly deposited a muffin on Raphael’s plate and got up to get him some hot cocoa. He placed the steaming cup of sweet chocolate goodness before the grumpy turtle, whose icy expression melted slightly upon seeing the food before him. He began to eat, but he continued to give everyone the “evil eye”.
“So, Azure,” Donatello cleared his throat, “why don’t you tell us how you ended up in the sewers?”
“Well …” I began, before I was interrupted by someone entering the room. Leonardo walked in from a door located a few feet away from the TV. He placed his hat and trench coat on a nearby coat hanger and then joined us at the table.
“How was your morning run?” Michaelangelo asked the newest arrival to the kitchen.
“Good. It was invigorating. I don’t know why you guys never want to join me,” he replied, looking at each of the masked turtles.
“Because some people like to sleep in, damn it. I thought that was obvious, but you guys don’t seem to know that,” Raphael spoke up, a frown formed on his face once again.
“But Leo, it was my turn to watch over Azure after your shift,” Michaelangelo stated. “You wouldn’t want me to leave him here all by himself now, would you? I mean, what if he turned out to be the Boogie Man? Raph would’ve wet his shell!” Michaelangelo grinned mischievously as he waited for Raphael’s response. The angry turtle was about to have a fit when Donatello cut him short by throwing his own excuse at Leonardo.
“The van needed an oil change. If I didn’t do that this morning, we might not be able to leave the lair quickly in case of an emergency.” Donatello smiled. “And if Azure is indeed the Boogie Man, then, well, I’d classify that as an emergency.”
“Okay, that’s it, you pinheads. I’m tired of this shit,” Raphael furiously snapped, his eyes burning like red hot coals. “I ain’t scared of any Boogie Man!”
“You were at one point!” Donatello waggled a finger at Raphael.
“No, please don’t turn out the lights, Sensei! The Boogie Man will come and get me if you do!” teased Michaelangelo in a mocking, high-pitched voice.
A small scuffle
broke out over the table as Raphael pulled out his
“Guys, cut it out! Sensei hasn’t woken up yet. He’ll make you do extra chores if you continue making this much noise,” Leonardo warned the others. They all fell silent, but Raphael angrily pointed a sai at Michaelangelo. The orange-masked turtle merely stuck out his tongue in response.
“Anyway,” Leonardo turned his attention to me, “I see that you’re feeling much better,” he smiled as he helped himself to a muffin and a cup of hot cocoa. “I hope these three haven’t been too much trouble.”
I looked at the others and noticed that Michaelangelo and Donatello were grinning uncontrollably, while Raphael seemed to silently plot revenge against them. “Um … no, not too much trouble,” I lied, not really knowing what to make of the current situation. I was afraid, but I didn’t want to show it. “Does this usually happen?”
“Yup, but it happens more often during the mornings, because of a certain individual,” Michaelangelo cheerfully answered the question.
Leonardo gave Michaelangelo a stern look and the grinning turtle quickly hushed up. Raphael grunted in response to the comment, but he continued to give Michaelangelo a look that obviously conveyed the message of “I really hate you.”
“Anyway,” Leonardo changed the subject, “have you told them anything about yourself yet?”
I shook my head and replied with a “no.”
“Then maybe now’s a good time to do so, since we’re all present and accounted for. Please, we’d appreciate it if you’d let us know how and why you ended up down here. And maybe a little background about yourself?” He gave me a reassuring nod.
“Is it really that important?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable about discussing my life with these strangers. They were nice, but they were still strangers. I looked at them wearily and nervously picked at the bandages on my arm. Nice strangers that carried weapons.
“Yes, child, it is very important.”
I jumped at the new voice behind me. All of this jumping was starting to make me sore again. Suddenly, my eyes widened. I knew that there were four turtles, but they all sat before me. I wondered if there was a fifth turtle that they had not informed me about. I turned around, expecting another giant turtle. Instead, my gaze was met by a giant rat wearing a dark red kimono. My eyes almost popped out of their sockets, and I fell out of my seat. I landed with a hard “thud,” but I quickly picked myself off of the floor and stood staring at this scary looking creature. My jaw dropped as the giant rat approached.
“Gah … ah … ah …” I was speechless. My mouth moved, but no words came forth. After a stressful moment of searching my mind for something to say, I finally found the words I was looking for.
“NO, GO AWAY! DON’T HURT ME!” I screamed at the rat. I silently prayed to the heavens that I wouldn’t end up being the “daily special” on its menu. If I were destined to die right then and there, I certainly didn’t want to leave the world as someone else’s breakfast.