Pass the crumbcakes, please.

Okay.

There aren't any crumbcakes, Venus.

Sure there are. What is this then? This I am holding in my hand?

It's air, Venus.

It does not taste like air, Raphael.

Quit joking around, Raph.

No, you quit joking around, Mikey! There's no friggin' crumbcakes there, okay?

Okay. Could you go and get me the lollipops from the shelve then, Venus?

Sure, Michaelangelo.

Mike, there's no lollip--

Crash! Splat!

What was that? An imaginary bookcase?

Hitting Venus? No...I think it was an elephant.

Stop, guys! Get the water out of your ears!

"That was better," Raphael said, tilting his head, and slapping the side of it head with the heel of his hand.

"Yeah, sure was,"

Mike and Raph looked down at the mangled turtle body under the bookcase.

"Who was that?" Mike asked, puzzled.

Raph only shrugged. "I have no idea...never seen her before in my life."

"I don't think she was supposed to be here,"

Raph nodded solemly. "Me neither."

"Did you just get the sudden urge to say some whacky punchline?" Mike turned to him.

"Yeah...but I can't think of any." Raph frowned.

"Me neither," Mike sighed.

They picked up the body and carried it through the sewers. When they reached the spot where they wanted to bury her, they hesitated.

"I don't feel like burying her."

"No..."

"Let's just leave her here,"

"Yeah...I have a weird feeling that she won't rot."

"Exactly what I thought."

"Weird day, huh?"

"Or night."

"Cowabunga!!!!"

"Mike? What was that for?"

Mike shrugged, and they walked back to the sewer lair.

Don...where are you now?

I'm here at the junkyard...

Well, get out.

No, I can't. I'm supposed to fall through the roof, then rip the tape off--

Don. Get out. You're too smart for this.

Too smart? How come?

You just are, okay?

Hmmm...

Stop joking around. This isn't really you. You know that.

I do?

Yeah. So get the water out of your ears and ditch this place.

"That was better," Don sighed, and rubbed his face where his ear would be if he was a human.

He picked up his bo staff, walked past the two frozen monsters and the pack of frozen blackclad men. He stopped at the tallest and most angry looking of them and studied him intently. He crinkled his brow and reached out to take his helmet off.
Underneath there was an elbow patch. He knew it was his, so he ripped it off the man's face and put it on.
It wasn't cold, even if had been attached to the ice for quite some time now.

He dropped the helmet of the angry man on the ground, stepped back and waited for him to move. He did not move.
Then Don wondered why he had expected the man to move. He was frozen in solid ice, everything except his head.

Don frowned, and walked towards a door. Inside sat another man. He was also frozen. He wore a white labcoat, and his hands were tied to the chair. He had tape over his mouth.
His body wasn't frozen in ice, it was just frozen-- frozen in its movements.

He considered removing the tape, but didn't do it. He picked up a bucket of  brown and green ice cubes, and got a really strong feeling that they were misplaced. Like they were just put here by someone-- someone who knew what was going to happen.
These weren't supposed to be made yet...Don found himself thinking.

He gingerly picked up one between his thumb and index finger, looked it over, then swallowed it.
He left the bucket, the man in the chair, the flock of human icecubes, the angry man without his helmet, and the two monsters.

Walked through the gate of the junkyard, through town, looking at all the frozen people. He listened to the sound of silence.
It was louder than any noise he'd ever heard. But in a pleasant way.

He stopped and felt, but couldn't feel anything swimming in his stomach. Guess it didn't work...heh.

Don liked the silence, and decided to do some writing.
He opened a manhole and climbed down the ladder. Halfway down he stopped and climbed up again, peeking just over the rigde. It was evening, and all of New York was stirring and making noices. He stared at them for half a second, then put the manhole cover back into place.

So...Leo. Are you going to do it?

Do what?

Chop the guys head off?

No. Why?

Because he deserves it?

This is a kids movie.

What did you just say?

I don't know exactly.

Exactly?

These aren't really sharp...they always turn the camera away when I fight, so I don't have to--

Repeat that, Leo.

Now it disappeared.

Oh.

We're gonna get back the scepter, and then go back, and it's gonna end with the old "no place like home"--

You can't remember what you said just now either, can you?

No, I cannot.

This isn't reality, Leo. If you would just get the water out of your ears...

"That was better," Leo took a deep breath and looked around. How did I get here?

A long-haired, Japanese man was standing in front of him in obvious anticipation. Suddenly he opened his eyes, and snatched Leo's katana. Leo reacted in less than a split second, reached for his other katana, met the man steel against steel, blocked his rapid strikes, finally saw an opening-- and ran his blade through the man's stomach.
He dropped without a sound.

God...this looks like midievel Japan or something...Leo thought as he darted over the large stone steps in the middle of the courtyard. Besides the man he just killed, there wasn't a soul there.
Even so, he expected an attack any minute, he had to be ready for that sort of thing, always...
The red paper lamps were swinging slightly in the wind, but nothing else was stirring. He entered the building. He didn't like being out in the open.

A bowl was sitting on a table. Leo looked down into it, and could see his reflection.
He touched his face. What are these spots? Why do I have such an unfamiliar shade of green? It's not natural...
This is my body, but yet-- it isn't...

Leo left the bowl and looked at the long paper scroll lying on another table. He saw the four creatures who were on it.
He got a wondering expression on his face, and got struck by the feeling that it wasn't them. Or their anscestors.
That the creatures were made up.

This is just stupid. If we were the first of our kind, if we were unique, how can I just happen to find an anscient scroll with images of us on it? It doesn't make any sense at all...
We were moulded by the mutagen...we aren't mythological creatures!

Leo gazed into the bowl again, and noticed that his reflection had changed. The spots were gone. His face had become a paler, less flashy shade of green. His bandanna wasn't as blindingly blue. His eyes looked serious.

When Leo walked slowly and calmly out on the stone steps, he knew no one would attack him. He silently noticed that even the mild wind had stopped.

Guys...where do you see yourself now?

Not there.

Not there either.

Or there.

Then where?

We don't know. Where do we belong?

That's a tough question.

Who was that turtle?

You mean the fifth? Someone...made up. Like you, only later. Ruins the plot. You were changed.

The plot? What do you mean by changed?

You are unique. You are alone. It's tougher when you can't reproduse.

But that's not what we want.

Life is unfair. Especially the life of imaginated creatures. Made to entertain.

And the change?

Let's just say you were too happy. Too happy for someone in your situation.

Too happy? People don't want to see us happy?

Okay...bad choice of words. You were silly. Shadows of your deeper personality. You were clichés of yourself, generalisation. Stereotypes. Commersialized. You were ruined, you weren't like you were meant to be in the first place....

Someday we hope we'll understand what you really want us to be like.

Yes...me too. I hope you can find your true form and live forever. But when that happens, then it might be too late.