37This is a non-drabble (I just can't get the hang of 100 words or less) meme "challenge" from my lj-group of friends. But I like it too much to simply post it there.
TMNT are not mine, but what the freaking hell? I'll write about them anyway!
Busted!
He had stayed out longer than even he had planned.
Getting back into the Lair was not impossible; getting back into the Lair AND into his room- AND with his contraband included? Well, that was going to take all the skill he possessed!
Gaining entrance by disabling the various alerts set to trap wayward ninja who broke curfew, he kept to the shadows, all senses alert. It was quite a distance from their new living area to his own room, so performing this maneuver was more dangerous than it had been back in the old days when they had lived in such relatively small quarters.
He strained his hearing, and was rewarded with the sound of someone working out in the dojo. He knew without seeing that "Fearless Leader" was up earlier than usual, training.
He shook his head. Though the oldest turtle was preoccupied, it would still be a gamble sneaking past the dojo. Yet the feat was accomplished.
Passing the workroom of the next was the easiest of all tasks. A marching band could come by when he was wrapped up in one of his projects. Still, he used his stealthy skills and passed without notice.
Now there was just the living room area to clear.
Snoozing on the couch was the third obstacle that stood between himself and the safety of his room- all of the TVs on, remote control hanging loosely from one hand, while a thin thread of drool escaped the corner of his open mouth.
Yet he would take nothing for granted; it was not always easy to catch this one napping as it were.
Luck was with him, and he managed to crawl past this one almost under his very nose.
Safety and his room lay ahead-
Except for the most difficult obstacle of all.
HE had super-hearing; HE could scent the very air and know what was passing by.
Hugging his precious treasure to his chest, he drew a deep, deep calming breath- then carefully, stealthily- skillfully- passed by the room of the fearsome one!
It took all of his self-restraint to not break into a run into his own room, but soon he was shutting the door and sitting at his desk, calming his heart even as he gazed at his tasty treasure.
Still mindful of not arousing any alarm, he carefully lay his smuggled snack on the desk before him and with the skill of a desperate ninja, he slowly pulled the cellophane wrapper open.
The scent of the Twinkies™ barely tickled his nose with all its cakey goodness when the door to his room opened and there was the sound of an accusing clearing of throat.
"And just what do you think you are doing?" demanded Michelangelo, hands on hips, brow furrowed in disapproval.
Splinter sighed.
"Would you care to join me, my son?" he asked, masking the disappointment in his voice.
Mike quickly and quietly closed the door and joined his father at the desk, gladly accepting his share of yet another "things that are NOT on Splinter's diet" list that Donatello, in concern for the health of his father, had insisted on.
"Next time, bring some milk," Mike advised, licking the creamy filling from the inside of one of the golden finger cakes.
"I shall try to remember," Splinter replied, eating his own share of the forbidden fruit more delicately yet with (probably) more relish than Michelangelo.