WOW! I've created a first evidently! Who would have thought that there would be something new to write about the Turtles?
TMNT are the property of Mirage- and I hope they never read this story.
Splinter kept his eyes on his sons during meditation. He knew what they were planning.
Morning training had gone surprisingly smoothly! The usual animosity (underlying, of course) had miraculously been replaced by a mutual admiration society!
Donatello: Mikey, that was the best kata I've seen you do in quite some time! Have you been getting in some extra training like Leo?
Michelangelo: Gee, thanks Don! No, I'm just trying harder. I know I should practice more. But man, you really caught me by surprise with that move you made in our bout!
Donatello: I hope I didn't hurt you too much.
Michelangelo: No, that hardly hurt at all- but I'm watching out for you, bro!
Leonardo: Raph, could you show me later that little disarming trick you used on Don today?
Raphael: Sure, Leo! If you'll show me how you managed to block my best sneak attack! Maybe I've been using it too much, and you've finally caught on! You surprised the heck out of me!
Leonardo: No, I was just lucky today. I think I surprised myself more than I surprised you!
Yes, keep believing that you are smarter than your Sensei, my sons. Keep believing that.
Even meditation had gone off without a hitch. For once, all four gave the sincere appearance of actually meditating and not just killing time.
"And now, my sons," Splinter said in preparation for ending the training session. "What are your plans for today?"
"Well, I'm off to Leatherhead's, if that's okay," Don began, a bit too eagerly. "We're really close to finishing our project! In fact, the sooner I get there, the sooner we'll be done."
"Real smooth, Don," Splinter heard Raphael mutter under his breath. Splinter pretended to not notice. After all, if they thought him senile enough to believe such transparent attempts to distract him, then he would play the part- for the moment.
"I can hardly wait to see this marvelous project when it is finished," Splinter smiled, then he turned to Raphael. "And what of you, my son? Surely you will not be needed to guard over April's shop during the day?"
"Well, actually, Sensei, me and Casey thought we'd surprise April by giving the place a nice cleaning," he responded smoothly. "And since she hasn't had a chance to inventory some new stuff she got, we thought we could do that for her as well."
"Very commendable," Splinter approved, and Raphael struggled to keep a relieved sigh from escaping him.
"Mikey and I are going scavenging in the junk yard," Leo immediately said, before Splinter could ask either one. He did this mainly because his youngest brother had proved to be the weakest link in their chain of defense that they had spent a good deal of a very early morning meeting forging.
"In the daylight, my son?" Splinter pretended worry. "I hardly think that-"
"Oh, it's okay! We're going to the island where the Professor and those other homeless people took over- you know, where that guy who called himself 'the Garbage Man' had first enslaved them? You've met the Professor," Leo grinned reassuringly. "And they know us over there. We'll be safe! Though we do need to leave early before there is too much river traffic..."
Splinter eyed all four. They wore the hopeful smiles of youth, sharply reminding him of the many times as children when they were trying to pull a fast one.
"These all sound like excellent plans," he approved. "Very well, you are all dismissed-"
They started to rise.
"-after I continue my tale from last night."
Stunned silence. Four turtles, in various stages of getting up from the floor, were frozen like statues, as if someone had shown them the head of the Gorgon and turned them all to stone.
"Now, where was I?" Splinter mused, as the still quiet quartet slowly, reluctantly lowered themselves back to the floor. "Oh, yes! I had finally been successful myself in learning to use the toilet, and now it was time to begin training you four."
He ignored the groans, and merely settled into his storytelling mode.
Lesson One-Where NOT to Go!
Splinter had taken every opportunity to scrounge whatever reading material he could find. Most of it had pages missing, and some was so complicated that he despaired of ever learning. He had managed to do better with the Japanese forms- no doubt due to some strange familiarity with it, having lived in Japan with Master Yoshi, witnessing his beloved "father" writing many times as he sat comfortably on his desk watching, and listening to the explanations of the man. Indeed, he still had memories of Master Yoshi talking to him as if he were human. (Yes, I know it sounds fantastically unbelievable, but that is the truth, Donatello! No, you may NOT explain the theoretically impossible possibility of such a thing occurring, you may be quiet!)
One of the good things about living in New York was the amount of reading material in so many languages- this also was the drawback, but Splinter knew what Japanese looked like, and he had grasped an understanding of English, so he soon learned to focus on those two languages. (No, there were no books in Latin... if you insist on interrupting, this story will take longer...)
Among his tattered book collection was something that had puzzled him until they had moved here- a book on potty training. Now, fortunately it had contained pictures, but Splinter, though he had found these highly interesting (No, there were no "naughty" pictures in it, Michelangelo, and you are very close to doing fifty flips), did not at first realize the importance of this find. Still, he held on to it, as it was a book, and he needed all the practice in reading that he could get.
When they had lived in his old burrow, he had managed, once they were walking, to train them to take their business away from the sleeping and eating area. There had been, just outside of their hiding place, cloaked in shadow but not too dark, a very shallow side channel. A small pipe, rusted through and attached to an adjoining wall, released a steady trickle of water into this channel. Splinter, by taking the four of them there at certain times (once I had recognized the signs of someone needing to relieve himself), got them to do their business in the channel, where the water safely washed the waste away.
It ran into the main channel that passed in front of their home, and therefore had caused Raphael some confusion. Why was it okay to get in here, yet he couldn't play in the big one? It was all so puzzling to such a young turtle. But Father said "No! Father spank!" whenever he got near it- so he learned quickly not to worry about it.
At any rate, they had learned quickly, and took care of their business on their own if they needed to, though they usually waited for Splinter to say "Who needs to go?"
At the new place there was no handy channel. Splinter, upon their first moving in, had wondered what to do. The toilet seemed so alien that he did not wish to overwhelm them. There was the bath tub, which was kind of like the channel, but he did not want them to use that as he planned on their bathing in there (Splinter: What do you mean, "that didn't stop Mikey?" Raphael: Nothing, Sensei! Michelangelo: Dude! I never!) . He scouted around outside their new home, but nothing similar to what they'd left behind was available. That first day he ended up taking them out to the large channel several times and, one by one, picking them up and holding them over the edge so they could go.
This proved tiring, not to mention dangerous. Sometimes they tried to get in themselves, but the water was rushing here, and it was a much deeper channel than the old one.
When he had tucked them in that night, he worried that they might need to get up. He resolved himself to having to change the beds in the morning, or clean up the room. But when that first new morning in their new home arrived, the beds were dry and the room was clean.
Yet there was a smell...
"Mornin'!" four tiny voices kept shouting over and over and over, and he had no chance to search out the source of the odor as four hungry babies ran around him, hanging on his robe, almost swinging, as they kept chanting "Mornin'! Mornin'! Mornin'!"
Everyone went outside; everyone did his business in the channel when it was his turn, then everyone went back into the home for breakfast.
It was a hectic day that day, what with lighting the gas appliances and finishing the cleaning of the large home. It wasn't until late in the "afternoon" that Splinter realized that no one had come crying to him about having to go.
He checked on the four, who were happily playing in their room. The four looked up with beaming faces, always glad to see their father.
They had dug out some of the clothes he had been scrounging for them and were once again playing "dress up". He really needed to find them some toys.
"Does anyone need to go?" he asked, but even as he entered the room, the smell from this morning was now overwhelming. He looked around the bedroom, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
"We goed already!" Leonardo informed his father proudly. "We goed all day and not had to bother you! We's big boys!"
"Yes! Big boys go on der own!" Raphael affirmed, and all four looked at Splinter with pride.
"We goed inna dark place, just like we suppose to!" Donatello informed him, grabbing the hem of his robe and leading him across the room towards-
"The closet? Eww, that must have been Raph, I would NEVER do anything like that in there!" Michelangelo adamantly declared.
"Yes, the closet," Splinter affirmed. "You had decided that the closet was dark and away from the sleeping area and the food area. You did not like my holding you over the channel to do your business, and so you four clever little babies found your own place to go."
"Eww! I used to hide stuff in that closet!" Donatello looked ill. He had fond memories of his secret hiding place in there, one that he had made himself, well-concealed in the far left hand upper corner. Had THAT been the place they had used as their own private toilet?
"Hide stuff? I used to PLAY in that closet," Leonardo responded, just as repulsed.
"Play? You always told me you were 'meditating'," Mikey frowned, old childhood memories of being rejected by his brother surfacing. " 'Go away, Mikey, I'm meditating. I can't play "Super Mikey" with you right now'! And all this time you were lying to me!"
"Well, if you hadn't been so insistent on playing that game over and over and-"
"My sons," Splinter cut them off, for they were all beginning to bring up old grievances. All four fell silent at once. "My sons, the story is not finished."
"We get it, Sensei," Raphael said impatiently. "We used to dump in the closet, and you trained us to dump in the toilet- all except Mikey, who kept using the-"
"I did not!"
"Silence!" Splinter commanded. "You will hear this story, whether you wish it or not!"
Introduce your child to the potty. Explain how it works. Show him that it is the proper place for doing his business. Make it an enjoyable learning experience. But do not place him on it just yet. Let him get to know the potty, to see that it is a friend, not an enemy! Potty time is a fun time, not a chore!
"This is a toilet, my sons," Splinter said, standing in front of the object. Four little turtles were grouped around the bowl, looking in it at the water, touching the smooth, cool curved outside, gazing in wonder at the large white box that was somehow sitting on top.
"Is a chair?" Raphael asked, noticing the seat. "Is a chair widda hole? You fall through da hole!"
"Broken shair?" Michelangelo asked, looking in. "Wassit?" And he pointed his tiny hand inside.
"That is the water. And yes, Raphael, it is a chair, a special chair. You need the hole for this chair. You use this toilet like we used the channel," Splinter patiently explained. "You get on this chair, and you go. You do your business in the water, just like outside- only Father does not have to hold you."
"Ohhhhh," four tiny voices said in unison. Donatello noticed that the seat moved. He lifted it up with one tiny hand as far as he could, then let it drop.
"Why does it move?" he asked. "Does it move when you sit on it?"
"No, my son. It moves for... well... I am not sure why it moves. And see? It also has a lid- a lid to cover it," and here Splinter lowered the top.
"Now the hole is gone!" Leo exclaimed, pounding on the lid with both hands. Soon all four were imitating their big brother.
"Drum! I's payin' the drum!" Michelangelo laughed. He didn't really know what a drum was, but he remembered banging on some old can once with a stick and Splinter asking him to "stop playing the drum so loudly, my son!"
"Now, my sons, let us continue," Splinter said, lifting the lid again. "You see, when you sit on the seat, you go. Then, when you are finished, you get off of the seat."
"But it'll be there," Donatello pointed out. He had been the first to observe so long ago that what they did in the channel did not stay in the channel.
"No, we do not let it stay there," Splinter patiently explained. "When you are through, you push this handle- see the shiny handle? You push it like this, and-"
Splinter flushed the toilet. Immediate the strange sound of rushing water abruptly echoed in the bathroom. Four turtles were startled. Raphael and Michelangelo both backed up from this thing! Leonardo wanted to hide behind Splinter, but for some reason he forced himself to stay put. Only Donatello had stepped closer, looking into the bowl, fascinated. He watched as water began running down the insides, while the pool of water rose up, beginning to swirl in a circle; then it sank down with a rush and disappeared through a hole at the bottom- and then began to refill! The sound of water running was still present for a while, and then it stopped. The water in the bowl became calm again.
"How it do that?" Donatello asked excitedly. "Where the water come from?"
"No, it comes from-" for a moment Splinter was stumped. He had not really thought of it much. He lowered the seat and placed Donatello on it, standing and facing the tank. He removed the lid, and Donatello and he peered into the chamber. More water was there, along with several very interesting devices put together in a funny way. "It comes from in here."
Donatello studied the set up, putting his hand in, touching a chain and the long metal stick it was attached to. His eyes went to the handle. Tentatively, he depressed the handle, and flushed the toilet. His eyes grew large as the flushing sound happened; he could "feel" vibrations through his feet, but he was too preoccupied looking at the workings of the inside of the tank to worry.
Pushing the handle had caused the pole with the chain to pull up, and this black thing on the bottom was pulled with it, and there was a hole! Water drained out of the tank through that hole, then this thing suddenly covered the hole again, and water started coming in through this little pipe, and this floating thing like a ball- which was attached to another metal stick, kept rising higher and higher until it got to a certain level, then it somehow stopped the water from coming in, and everything was quiet!
Again he flushed the toilet; again he stood, mesmerized, as he watched the workings of this fantastic device. Again. Again.
"That is enough, my son," Splinter worried lifting him down and once again raising the lid. "We do not want to waste the water." He turned to the others, who had come closer as they'd watched their brother play with the toilet. "Now! Who wants to be the first to go on the toilet?"
All four exchanged looks. No one volunteered.
"Come, my sons! This is what it is for! We use it instead of the channel. Or the closet."
Four turtles stared skeptically at their father.
"You use it?" Leonardo asked, curious.
"Yes, Father uses it," Splinter nodded in assertion.
Four turtles looked at each other once again, then back to Splinter.
"Lessee." And they waited.
Splinter swallowed, suddenly embarrassed. But determination overrode shyness.
"Very well," he said, preparing to demonstrate the proper use.
"NO!" Michelangelo could not stop himself. His high-pitched scream was a plea, and he was on his knees in a flash before Splinter, bowing and begging. "Please, I'll be good! But don't finish this story! I'll make you breakfast in bed for the rest of your life! I'll practice more than Leo! I'll- I'll- I even be nice to Raph!"
Splinter smiled at the sight. The other three looked as if they would gladly join their youngest brother in this attempt to buy Splinter's silence, but Splinter did not give them the chance.
"Very well," he sighed. "I believe that you see my point- though maybe I should ask you what my point is. Yes. Michelangelo, if you can tell me what point I have been trying to make, then I will go no further."
"We're sunk," he heard Donatello whisper to the others.
"Sensei, perhaps I could-" Leonardo quickly tried to intercede, but Splinter held up a silencing hand.
"Well, Michelangelo?"
The young turtle, eyes on his father, gulped a few times. He cleared his throat a few times as well, and "hmm"ed and "well"ed until he couldn't stall any more.
"Ah, you're point is..." he began, then, thinking of the story, inspiration struck. "A place for everything, and everything in its place!"
The triumphant grin on his face faded slowly in the ensuing silence.
"See you at the evening training," Splinter said. "We will continue the story at that time. Oh, and no excuses- or I may have to invite a few of your friends over to hear the rest."