"World History. What group destroyed the city of Carthage, ending By..Byz…Byzantine rule of North Africa in 698 AD?" Leonardo set the Trivial Pursuit card down and watched his brother, waiting for the answer. They weren't allowed to watch television and Don had promised him a game of chess, if Leo first played this game. A game that Donatello always won.

Donatello considered carefully. He had, at his leisure, gone through almost every one of those cards and committed the answers to memory. But now, his edict memory was failing him. "It's either the Romans…or…hmm…"

Leo looked almost hopeful. "You mean, you don't know?" He set the card back in the box and was ready to mark this day on his calendar.

"Give me a minute," Don said. "The British? Not in 698. Um…maybe the Franks? Or the Arabs?"

Raphael took that moment to burst through the lair door and run into the middle of the board. "Where's… Splinter?" He demanded. His chest heaved from the exertion of running the entire way home.

Leo was instantly on his feet taking note of the fact that someone was missing. "Where's Mike? What happened to Mike?" His voice rose with fear and worry.

"You guys went back to the park didn't you?" Donatello asked getting to his feet. He had heard the story from Leo and now he too was fearful of what had happened to his little brother.

"NO!" Raph yelled. "We didn't and I don't got time for this. Where's Splinter?"

Leo was taken aback by the panic in Raphael's voice and his heart hammered against his plastron. Something had happened to Mike. "He's…not home yet, Raph. Where's Mikey?"

"He ain't captured if that's what you're thinkin." Raph paced trying to figure out what to do. "And he ain't hurt. He's….stuck." Raphael ran to the kitchen.

Leo and Don looked at each other. "Stuck?" they echoed and ran after Raph.

Their brother had dragged a small stool over to the sink and turned on the hot water. He had taken off his mittens and set them on the counter allowing the water to run over his hand. "I need to get some hot water. It might melt it." He was speaking more to himself than to his brothers.

"Melt what, Raph?" Leo was starting to get really agitated. If Mike wasn't hurt than where the heck was he? What was he stuck in? "What's goin' on?"

Raph ignored his brothers and grabbed a cup from the cupboard. He filled it with the hot water. "Shouldn't burn his tongue…it's not that hot."

"His tongue?" Don wondered scratching his head.

"His tongue?" Leo repeated. He frowned and tried to sound stern like Splinter. "Hamato Raphael! Where is Michelangelo?"

"Shut up Leo!" Raph shouted back. "I ain't gotta tell you nothing!"

"Then perhaps, Raphael, you will tell me."

The three boys turned quickly. Raph was so startled the cup slipped from his hands (good thing it was plastic) and he fell off the stool.

Unhurt, he scrambled to his feet quickly and faced his father. "Sensei. I…"

Splinter's dark eyes narrowed with worry and anger. "Where is Michelangelo?"

Raph's breath caught in his throat. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't. Mike was out there all by himself, waiting on help.

"He's in the alley. The one across the street from the grocery store you go to." He heard his brothers gasp in surprise and he could feel Leo's cold hard stare. But that was nothing compared to the look he was getting from his Father. Jeez. That wasn't even the really bad part. He swallowed hard. "I dared him to stick his tongue to a dumpster."

"That's stupid," Don said. "In this cold, he'd stick…oh. Right."

"Michelangelo is stuck to a…" Splinter shook his head and went to the sink quickly refilling the cup with warm water. He reached for Raph's hand. "Take me. Now. Hurry."

Leo and Don followed Splinter to the doorway. "Can we go, Sensei?" Leo asked. He knew they were grounded, but this had to be more important.

"No," Splinter said pausing. "Get some blankets and towels ready. We will not be long." He nudged Raphael out the door and hurried down the tunnels.

Meanwhile, in the gloom of the now lightly snowing evening, and though it wasn't really late, a very happy drunk was walking with his friends from an office Christmas party to another Christmas party.

And, they just happened to be passing...

"Man... hol' up guys," he said solemnly, halting the procession. "I can't take 'nuther step until I empty the ol' bladder."

"We're almost to my place," one of them pointed out to him. "It's only another block."

"Nope, gotta go," the drunk insisted, and began singing "gotta-go, gotta-go, gotta-go right now!"

"Dude, the fine for pissin' in public-" another of his friends tried to remind him, but young Mr. "Gotta-go right now" waved him silent with a commanding- and very unsteady- hand.

"No! Fine be damned! I'll be right out."

And he made his unsteady way up the alley into the dark.

"Why are we lettin' him do this?" one of the others asked.

" 'Cause the last time he thought that there was a talkin' elephant, remember?" the first one grinned. "That was a freakin' hysterical conversation he was havin'!"

A general round of laughter chased the drunken reveler up the alley. He knew what they were on about, but who cared? That elephant had been real- and it had given him some very good stock tips! Good ol' Mr. Jumbo! Piss on his friends! He was risking this trip up the alley so he wouldn't piss on them! And this was the thanks he gets for being so thoughtful... ah, a nice dumpster... why's there a pile of trash next to it? It doesn't look too full... who cares?

The man staggered a few steps further, unzipped, and let go.

His shaky condition caused him to scatter a bit, but what the heck? Too bad there wasn't enough snow on the ground yet, he could write his name... man, he had drank enough to write his full name in cursive and prolly his address to boot... see?

And then, as the amber stream of impromptu calligraphy began to touch the cardboard box of oddly piled trash, a startled cry erupted from the garbage, and the man went tumbling backwards in surprise!

"Pleathe! Don' pee on me!"

"Wh- who said that?"

"Me! Pleathe! Don' pee on me!"

A voice traveled up the alley.

"C'mon, Jake! What's takin' so long? You run into another talkin' elephant?"

Roars of laughter followed the comment.

"Jus' a minute! I'm talkin' to the trash!"

More laughter.

"Jake" slowly edged towards the now shaking garbage in the cardboard box.

"Who's in there? Is that you, Mr. Jumbo?"

"No! Sthay back! 'ou do no' thee anyone in the twath!" Mike tried to sound like Obi-Wan Kenobi, but it came out more like Daffy Duck.

Now, despite his drunken condition, Jake got a better look through the pile of garbage.

"Oh! Dude!" he breathed. Then he straightened up. "You were pink last time, and a lot bigger. I guess you're not Mr. Jumbo, but one of his kids!" He shuffled a bit of garbage out of the way and tried to focus his inebriated eyes on the creature.

"Awww... Poor lil green elephant- you're trunk is stuck to the dumpster? Lemme pull you loose! It's the least I can do for Mr. Jumbo's kid!"

Mikey squirmed further away from the proffered help.

"No! I'm thine! My thather ith comin'! Weally!"

Jake lowered his unsteady arms, swaying on his feet. He could see the lil' fellow was scared, and he didn't want to scare him anymore than he was already scared.

"Oh, Okay- yeah, I imagine Mr. Jumbo will be by in no time! Sure you don't want me to pull you off? It'll hurt, but it's better than being stuck! I was stuck when I was a kid- 'course it was my tongue instead of my trunk. My brother dared me to do it. I was sure it wouldn't work. They had to call the fire department to get me off."

Mikey blinked away tears at this story. He would have laughed if his tongue wasn't stuck. At least the guy thought he was an elephant, not a turtle!

But he wasn't offering to leave!

"Jake!" shouted an impatient friend. "Did you die? What the hell's taking so long?"

"Jeeze, you're not taking a dump in there, are you?" bellowed another. "Or worse- fallen asleep? AGAIN?"

Raucous laughter filled the alley, causing Mike to shrink down further. He was beginning to panic! What if they came into the alley? THEY don't sound as drunk as this guy!

Quickly he held out his mittened hands.

"Hewe! Take this! Dus' don' let them thee me!"

Jake focused on the object in the little hands- it was a grandfather's watch- a really really FINE grandfather's watch. He carefully took it and examined it as closely as his condition allowed. Holy cats! He was no antiquarian horologist, but this was definitely an antique- definitely more than a hundred years old, rather beat up but it was for sure 18K gold- some crack addict would sell it for twenty bucks, prolly, and never realize the true value. This thing was precious! Definitely a family heirloom... wouldn't take a lot of work to fix up, it still was working... beautiful detail... scratches and dents were easily repaired...

Then he just as carefully placed it back into Mikey's hands.

"Naw! I can't take the watch! That's somethin' special! Don't worry, lil' Jumbo! I won't let them see you! They couldn't, anyway. They got no vision."

"Jake!" a chorus of voices threatened to attract anyone on the street or in the apartments above.

"Well, I gotta go now. You sure you'll be all right?"

Mikey desperately nodded, clutching the watch that Raph had given him.

"Okay, then. Give my best to your father. Bye-bye... Merry Christmas..."

"Mewwe Cwismas to 'ou too!" Mike managed, and he watched with relief as Jake strolled back up the alley, singing "Jingle Bells".

Raph was half running and half being dragged by his Father. He wondered how Splinter could run so fast without spilling the water. Must be a ninja thing. His small legs ran faster to keep up with him.

"Sensei, I'm… sorry," he said. Apologizing was not something that came easily to him. And even when he usually said it, he didn't mean it. He meant it this time. He was sorry. He should've been looking after Mike like Leonardo said.

He took it as a bad sign when his father didn't answer. Even if Mike managed to get through this whole thing with his tongue unhurt, Raph didn't have any confidence for the lower halves of their body. He steeled himself, though. Mike was waiting. He knew he'd gone over the four-minute mark. They had to hurry.

They got to the ladder that would lead to the alley and Splinter went up first. He ascended the ladder more quickly than Raph had ever seen. The manhole cover was off just as fast, and Splinter didn't even wait for Raph to get all the way to the top before pulling him to the streets.

Splinter looked around and was about to ask where Michelangelo was when a faint whimper caught his attention. He turned to a pile of trash sitting beside the dumpster.

"I tried to hide him," Raph explained somewhat sheepishly.

Splinter hurried over to the trembling garbage heap. "Michelangelo," he whispered softly. "It is all right now."

Mittened hands reached out of the trash grabbing for his rescuer. Splinter smiled slightly removing the newspapers and other assorted items from his son. He knelt down putting one arm around Mike's shoulders. "It is all right now," he repeated soothingly.

"See, Mike," Raph said. "I told you we'd be back."

Mike's only answer was to whimper. The cold air had given him a terrible sore throat and his mouth ached terribly.

How his sons managed to get themselves in these situations was beyond him. All they had to do was obey their father. Did they not understand this? Splinter brought the cup up closer to Mike's tongue. With a few drops, and gentle pull, he was free.

Mike sobbed in relief and threw himself into his father's arms. "I'mth sowwy."