The Final Episode (TMNT 1987)

The Trouble With Females

(Shredder)

"Soon, old friend." I whispered, placing my hand against the glass of Krang's chamber.

Tomorrow, the deed would be done.

After laying several miles of piping down to the Technodrome, and unloading Donatello's various pieces of equipment, we drilled our way back to the surface.

Lighting the path with a handheld flashlight, Michelangelo led the way back to the turtles sewer residence.

When we arrived, Donatello and Michelangelo discovered that there leader had gone out to seek an intruder who had infiltrated their proper lair.

The one known as Raphael wasn't to worried though, and had called his communicator earlier to confirm Leonardo's whereabouts. I saw no cause for alarm. Probably the Rat King, his lair was around here somewhere.

Shortly after our return, Miss O'Neal arrived, cradling a stacked boxes of pizza in her arms.

I rolled my eyes. Pizza again? Don't these reptiles ever consume anything else? I myself could really go for some Chinese take out right about now.

I excepted the box she handed me though, and made my way to the couch to divide it with my henchmen. Returning to the table, I ate my own portion quietly.

Lost In my thoughts.

After the cheesy substance had calmed my grumbling stomach, I noticed that the seats around me were now nearly empty. With the exception of Michelangelo who sat just across from me.

Glancing around I spotted the cause. The remaining turtles and a reluctant Miss O'Neal, had gathered on or around the sofa with my henchman, deeply enthralled in what looked like a cheaply made, monster movie.

"Teenagers..." I joked to myself.

Why hasn't the orange clad one joined his brothers? I pondered.

He was intently staring at a bit of paper in his hands. He looked so frustrated it almost pained me to watch.

"What is the matter, turtle?" I asked, Curiosity finally getting the better of me.

"I... Uhh... It's nothin." He spoke, snapping out of a daze.

With the lighting speed of an experienced ninja master, I leaned across the table and quickly snatched it out of his hands.

It was a Shellhammer Inc business card.

Buffy Shellhammer

(347)-646-6315

I laughed, it was that little brats phone number. The surfer turtle still holds a candle for her. As my laugh resonated through the dining area, Michelangelo's cheeks flushed a violent shade of Orange.

"Give that back!" He cried pitifully, matching around the table and tearing out of my hands, next he huffed away towards the door.

Hormone fueled confusion, ahh teenagers. Though his appearance must make it hard for him to get a date on a Saturday night.

"Why don't you just call her?" I called after him, trying to contain my chuckling.

He stopped and sighed. Turning back around, he faced me.

"You wouldn't understand." He shook his head, his bandanna bobbing along behind him.

Is he insulting my intelligence?

"Would you like to make a wager?" I edged him on.

Staring at me with a look of heavy suspicion, he pulled the chair out beside me. Turning it around, he sat backwards in it, propping his crossed arms up onto the edge of the backrest.