TMNT and Splinter are owned by Mirage. "Merry Christmas" is owned by those with the guts to say it!

Chapter Three: You'd Better Not Pout!

"A what?" Don said at the end of the show, when he and Mikey were alone in the kitchen.

Splinter was due back in a little while, and Don was helping Mikey get the basics ready for supper. Leo and Raph were still in the dojo, avoiding their Santa-loving brother at all costs.

"A 'lectric shaver!" Mikey repeated, getting the potatoes ready to scrub. He and Splinter were going to bake them tonight- baked potatoes tasted so good this time of year, and Mikey had found a topping recipe that he and Father agreed sounded very appetizing. "You can build one, and we can give it to Father! It's perfect!"

"Mikey," Don was still shaking his head at this suggestion. What possessed Mikey to think that Splinter wanted- no, NEEDED- an electric shaver? "Mikey, I can't build one."

Mikey, in the middle of scrubbing the first potato, turned a disbelieving eye on his older brother.

"Don! You built the TV! You can build this!"

"I didn't build the TV, Mikey," Don explained. "Splinter and I found the TV, and parts for the TV, and eventually we figured out how to make it work! Someone else built the TV."

"But..." Mikey was confused, as well as a bit shaken in his faith in Don's abilities. "But you build LOTS of stuff!"

"Yes, but most of it doesn't work, and a lot of it I just repair," Don said, helping with the potatoes. "Mikey, I can't build a TV from scratch- I have to have parts. And I can't 'build' an electric shaver. I would need one already made, and even then, I don't think I could fix it. I don't know about them."

Mikey looked as if someone had told him that Santa Claus doesn't exist. Next to this belief in this jolly being who dispenses toys to the entire world, his belief in his brother's ability to do anything was only just behind his belief in his father's all-powerful nature- which was his most powerful, most rock-steady belief there was.

Even so, his mind was quickly turning over possible solutions.

"So! What you're saying is, you NEED an 'lectric shaver to make an 'lectric shaver!"

Don looked again at this brother, and wondered at his determination.

"Uh, yeah- I would need one from the junk yard- and even then, I don't think I could fix it," he said, scrubbing a potato. "Mikey, some stuff is hard to fix. That's why it's in the junk yard. And 'sides, I've never seen one in the junk yard."

"That's 'cause you wasn't looking! When are you going with Splinter again?"

"Not for another month or two," he broke the news to him. "We don't need to go, and in winter we don't go unless we really really really need something. And we do not really really really need something right now."

Mikey wanted to argue. He needed something! But he refrained from saying.

"Why are you so set on an electric shaver anyway?" Don was curious in spite of himself.

"Well," Mikey said carefully, as he began on another potato. "It's just that Santa only brings stuff to kids, right? He don't bring stuff to the grownups. Splinter is a grownup, and he should have a present. After all, he's our father! He is a GOOD father, too! And 'sides, when he was a kid, he wasn't a kid like we are now, so Santa probably never brought him anything. And now he's too old! So, I was thinking, I could get him something, and we could give it to him, only it would mostly be from me since it's my idea."

And he attacked yet another potato with the scrubber, as if he would remove the skin with the dirt.

Don shook his head at this logic. He, too, scrubbed another potato, thinking hard. They worked in silence until they had enough for the family plus a few extras just in case.

Mikey got the oven ready. Splinter trusted him to start it without his supervision, ever since the time when he was cooking for his brothers and himself when Splinter was too ill to take care of them. Mikey had been so proud of this privilege! NONE of the others were allowed to mess with the oven! Baby indeed!

"I know!" he shouted suddenly, spinning around and facing Don. "I know! I can BUY it! I can buy it with MONEY!"

Don just stared at Mikey in shock. How the heck...

"Mikey, I don't think..."

"It's perfect!" Mikey was not to be dissuaded. "It's my turn to go to the grocery with Splinter! The lady there- she is nice! I could take some of my money that I've saved, and give her a note, and ask her to sell me the 'lectric shaver! Why didn't I think of it before?"

And he bolted from the kitchen into their bedroom to get his money.

Each of the turtles had what he considered the bestest of secret hiding places around the lair. Mikey's was in a small hole in him mattress that he'd discovered when he was four- he wasn't quite clear on the details, but he had a vague memory of finding it around the time that Raph found out that Mikey had taken one of Raph's soldiers... he'd found it, and stuffed the toy into it, and then pretended to be asleep. Splinter had searched the bed at the insistence of Raphael, but no soldier could be found.

As time went on, Mikey's most precious treasures found their way into that hole- sometimes he had to rethink the value of such things, as the mattress would be too lumpy to sleep on.

He had since found a second hiding place for the more uncomfortable stuff, but the money Splinter allowed him to keep ended up there, especially after he'd seen something on TV about some person keeping their money in their mattress. It was PERFECT!

Not realizing that Don had followed him and was watching, Mikey dug out two fistfuls of the green papers, and cheerfully spread them on his bed. It was a LOT! At least one five and eight ones... Thirteen dollars! Wow! He hadn't realized that he was so rich!

Spying Don in the room, he grinned in triumph.

"See, Don? I can buy the present! I'm gonna write a letter to that lady who owns the store, and I'm gonna leave this money and take an 'lectric shaver..."

"Whoa, Mikey!" Don interrupted, climbing up on his brother's bed. "First of all, Splinter doesn't allow anyone to touch anything in the store- unless he hands it to you! That is a big rule! I touched one of the magazines there 'cause it looked interesting, and he popped me a good one! Same with Leo and Raph! They both got tagged pretty hard for touching stuff. Splinter keeps a sharp eye out!"

Mikey sagged momentarily, but his mind was working fast.

"I know! Father will go there one more time before Christmas- I saw it marked on the calendar! I can leave the letter with the money, and ask her to make sure that she fixes it so he don't know what it is but he has to bring it home anyway! How's that for a plan?"

And the hopeful, eager look he gave Donnie was such that the clever turtle couldn't argue with him. Poor Mikey! He so wanted to do this...

Donnie looked at the meager amount of money. He wasn't sure, but he was pretty confident that two flaws existed in his brother's plan. The first: he was pretty sure that the Sakais did not sell electric shavers. Second: Even if they did, thirteen dollars was not going to be enough.

He looked again at his beaming, hopeful brother- he could tell that Mikey was waiting for him to praise him for being so clever- and he sighed. Is this how Splinter feels sometimes? he wondered vaguely, looking at the eagerness in his brother's eyes.

"Um... you're gonna need more money than that, Mikey," he slowly said. He climbed down from the bed, crossed the room, and, trusting that his brother was not looking, opened up his own hiding place of treasures- hidden cleverly in a specially carved out space in their meager closet wall. He climbed back on the bed with what money he'd managed to find: a ten dollar bill, three fives, and two ones.

Somehow, he still thought that forty dollars would not be enough, but he also figured that Mrs. Sakai would not be able to fill Mikey's request anyway. At least it would not be Donnie to let his brother down!

Before Mikey could thank his brother properly, the door opened in the living room, and everyone heard the welcome voice of their father calling to them to help him come put away the supplies.

"Aww, Don!" Mike managed as they stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for instructions. "I owe you one, big time!"

The next few days passed with their usual joys and sorrows. Lessons were taught and learned. Arguments broke out and were resolved. And more and more Mikey counted the days until he would go with Father to the store and do this great thing! He was almost more excited by the prospect of getting a gift for Splinter than he was about his upcoming visit from Santa!

And the dread of Leo and Raph grew as each day drew closer to Christmas. They couldn't even bear to watch the shows anymore, and spent a lot of time "practicing" in the dojo. Splinter tried to reason with them, reminding them of their Halloween experience, and they tried to act like he wanted them to act- but each harbored that secret fear that this Santa was someone who could very well pose a danger to the family.

Mikey, in the privacy of his room (when they were in the dojo), labored upon his letter to Mrs. Sakai. He wouldn't even show it to Don for proofreading, he was so secretive. He wanted to do this all on his own, despite the fact that Don had put in his own money. Whenever he heard one of the others approaching, he would hurriedly hide the evidence and act innocent; a sure sign to Leo and Raph that Mikey was up to something.

Splinter brought home a tree. It was even more beautiful than the one from last year- at least, to Mikey it was! That was because this year Santa was coming! Mikey danced around the tree, cheering and whooping until Splinter had to admonish him in with a sharp "Rokuni!", resorting to Japanese to get his meaning across.

Decorated with the most loving of care by Michelangelo and (to a lesser extent) his brothers, all that stood between Mikey and his perfect surprise was one more night.

The day of the planned trip to the grocery, Mikey was extra-diligent in his lessons. NOTHING was gonna prevent him from going with Splinter tonight; NOTHING!

Until Raph walked in on Mikey writing for the tenth time his letter to Mrs. Sakai.

Raph, seeing his brother scribbling so carefully on the paper, and taking in the piles of discarded efforts, came to the wrong conclusion:

"You're writing to SANTA?"

Mikey jumped, messing up an almost perfect letter. He quickly snatched it behind his back and stood defensively, looking guiltily at Raph.

"No! I'm not writing to anyone," he said, keeping his treasured note protected.

"Yeah, right," Raph growled. "You're writin' a letter to Santa! I know you are! You been talkin' about leaving a note out for him with milk and cookies, and you're in here writin' it now. Christmas is like weeks away."

He moved towards his brother, torn between curiosity and fear. What had Mikey put in that note?

"Leave me alone, Raph!" Mikey, suddenly fearful, warned him. He was startled when Raph started to approach, and tried to back away, but the bunk bed was between him and the door. "It's none a your business any ways!"

"Come on, little brother! Let's see whatcha wrote to the human who's gonna snatch us all up!" And Raph made a grab towards Mikey. He knew how to maneuver him so that he would be pinned; he'd done this before, trying to get stuff from Mikey that usually belonged to Raph in the first place.

"No! It's not your business! Leave me alone!" Mikey's voice. raised and quavering, did nothing to put off Raph. If anything, it egged him on.

"Come on, let me see it!" Raph said again, and he faked a move to the left. Mikey fell for it, and before he could escape to the right, Raph had him effectively pinned and had deftly plucked the letter from Mikey's stunned hand.

"NO!" Mikey bellowed in a tone that surprised his older brother. But Raph was not put off.

"Come on, where's the harm in my readin' this?" he teased, backing up and holding out the letter. He'd done stuff like this a million times before, and he always knew how Mikey would react: he'd try to snatch it a few times, then cry like a baby for Splinter. But Raph didn't care this time. He was deep down scared and he was showing it by his treatment of his baby brother. "I'm gonna read it, Michelangelo! Here I go..."

What happened next was talked about for years.

"NO!" Mikey screamed- only in anger! Mikey screamed in such anger that Raph was momentarily stunned- just enough for him to fail to block the flying kick that Mikey had launched at his plastron.

Raph was sent crashing into the far wall, and he fell to the floor. Before he knew what was happening, Mikey was astride him, pummeling him fast and hard and furiously, shouting incoherently and angrily about privacy and Christmas and 'lectric shavers and "GIVE IT BACK!"

Then Splinter was in the room, pulling Michelangelo off of his bleeding brother. Still he kept fighting and shouting, tears of monumental proportions streaming from his eyes even as the words of hatred for his older brother poured from his lips.

"I want it back! I hate you! I hate all of you! Give it back! It's mine! It's MINE!"

Twisting, squirming, fighting his father to get loose and attack his brother, who was now partially protected by Leonardo and Donatello in case Splinter couldn't hold onto this wild turtle. But Splinter was stronger by far; and his anger was even greater than his son's.

"Hamato Michelangelo, Rokuni!"

His voice was terrible to hear- like the loudest thunder echoing through the tunnels during the most horrible of storms!

Mikey froze, coming to himself. He was breathing hard, sobbing without realizing he was sobbing, and staring with such anger at Raphael that he couldn't unclench his fists. Splinter carefully put him down, forced him to look in his father's eyes.

"Do not move," he said, and those three words, spoken with such force yet so quietly, caused the other three to flinch in reaction. Mikey did not move- except to sob heavily, to breath hard and in a ragged way.

He was having a hard time catching his breath. The sobs were in control, the angry sobs were still master of him. And they were being joined by a different type of sob; the sobs of heartbreaking realization.

He stood there, not moving, as he'd been ordered, sobbing and clenching his fists until his nails were biting into his palms. Staring at his brothers, he could see the shock in all their faces. He could see the anger and disappointment in Splinter's entire body language. He could see the blood that he'd drawn in his attack on his older brother. He could see all this, but he couldn't think straight, he couldn't focus on anything, he couldn't concentrate on any thought beyond one glaring fact:

He had just ruined his chance to have Santa visit!