Middle-Aged Mutant Ninja Turtles

If you do the math: the “Heroes in a Half-Shell” that we all know and love would be in their late Thirties by now.


The phone rang.  “Hello, Bankwicz-Turtle residence?”

“Hey Debbie.  It’s Donatello.”

“Hi Do-onny!” she elongated his name.  He liked Debbie but he really couldn’t stand the nicknames.  It was all too cute-sie for him.  He noticed it ever since his brother Michelangelo started dating her.  She called all of his brothers by a weird truncated nickname.  Leonardo was Lenny.  Raphael was Fay.  He was always “Do-onny.”

“Is Michelangelo there?” he asked.  “I tried his work cell but it went straight to voicemail.”

“Yes he is,” Debbie replied.  She held the phone away from her mouth.  A muffled “MIKEY!” echoed through the line.  “It’s Do-onny.”  The phone clicked at another location.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Donatello replied.  “What’s new?  I tried your work phone but you have it turned off or something.”

“Man, when I leave that office that thing gets powered down,” Michelangelo replied.  He was a Payroll Supervisor at a pretty decent sized company in Staten Island.  He often talked about the stresses of work but was never very specific.  “Putting out fires all day.  You know.  The usual.  What’re you up to?”

“I’m just sitting here trying to figure out if I’m going to go to this wedding.”

“Yeah.  I don’t really want to go, but I think we have to.  You know, social contract and all.”

“So you’re definitely going?” Donny asked.

“Believe me I don’t really want to.  Deb’s giving me all sorts of crap for it.  She never liked Casey.  She thought he wasn’t doing right by April to wait this long to marry her.  She’s not a huge fan of April either.  Deb always thought April was in love with me.”

“April used to be in love with you?” Donny laughed sarcastically.  “Yeah, you and everyone else.”

“She definitely liked me,” he affirmed.  “Don’t deny it.”

“It’s just that I haven’t seen them in years,” Donny spoke, his thought drifting off to the last time he may have interacted with the human couple.  “I seriously think the last time was when we sent the Technodrome back to Dimension X.”

“Jesus,” Michelangelo interjected.  “That was like eight years ago.”

“I know.  That what makes it kind of awkward.”

“They wouldn’t have invited us if they didn’t want us to go,” Mikey said.  “We introduced them for Christ’s-sake.”

“I know but it’s just that I don’t really think I’m going to know anyone there.  I don’t want to be seated at a table with a bunch of their work friends.  What the heck are we going to talk about?  ‘Hey, what do you do for a living Donatello?’  ‘Oh, actually, The Foot Clan left New York and I’m kind of in between jobs right now.’”

“Nothing to be ashamed of.  It’s a rough economy,” Mikey tried to comfort his brother.  “Besides, maybe you’ll meet a nice unemployed woman there.  You two will have lots to talk about.”

“Hilarious.  If you’re going then that’s fine.  I can sit with you and Deb.”  Donny thought for a moment.  “What about Raphael and Numbnuts?  Are they going?”

“I talked to Raph,” Mikey recalled.  “He’s definitely out.  Flights from Kansas City are too much right now.  Plus he has some big event going on at his gym.  Like a powerlifting conference or some stupid thing.”

“What about our moron older brother?”

“Don’t know,”  Mikey replied.  “I tried calling him two weeks ago but never heard back.”

“Are we even still sure he lives at the same place?”  Donny asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“What an A-hole,” Donny whispered.  He was still angry at Leonardo.  When their master Splinter was in hospice, his formerly courageous brother was nowhere to be found.  Not one call.  Not one e-mail.  Nothing.  He ditched them when they needed him the most.  He missed the funeral and that was unforgivable. 

“Hey, Leonardo is going through a rough patch.”

“Yeah, he’s always going through a rough patch,” Donny trailed off again.  That conversation had been had many times.  No need to go through it again.  “Anyway.  Ok.  Well if you are definitely going…”

“I’m definitely going.”

“Ok.  Then I’m RSVP’ing to this,” Donny stated with resolve.  “Here’s a question: If they wanted us to go so badly, wouldn’t they have had pizza on the menu?”

“We can get a slice afterwards,” Mikey replied.  “It’s an open-bar I think.  Maybe if I get Deb enough Long Island Iced Teas, she’ll let me eat a slice without bitching about my cholesterol.”

“Aright.  Well tell the kids I said hi.”

“Ok.  Later.”

“Cowabunga,”  Donny signed off.

“Cowabunga.”

 

P.S. – Search Google for Middle-Aged Mutant Ninja Turtles.  Unbeknownst to me, this topic has already been approached.  But enjoy my take anyhow.