“So you got our note?” Leonardo asked me.
I nodded. “Seemed a little bogus to me, though.”
“Oh, it’s far from bogus,” Donatello promised. “I’ve been tracking these terrestrial movements for the past week, and there is no way it could be anything but man’s doing.”
April nodded in agreement. “The weatherman is as confused as the public-”
“-And the public is as confused as a turtle in a chicken coop,” Raphael finished for her.
“This… Isn’t a joke,” I realized.
“It’d me a totally bodacious one if it was, dudette,” Michelangelo said solemnly, “but it’s all too real.”
I nodded skeptically. “And I’m supposed to believe all this why?”
Raphael suddenly took off his face to reveal a green one with a red mask on.
I gasped. “Aliens?!”
He rolled his eyes. “No. Turtles.” With that, he removed his trench coat, and the other three men did the same, revealing turtle bodies with different colored masks.
I shook my head. “This is bogus. This is truly bogus. Who the heck are you guys?”
“We already told you,” one in a blue mask said. He sounded like Leonardo. “We’re still the same people, just with different bodies.”
“So you’re telling me that four talking turtles are working with one of the most famous news reporters in New York City to take down a pair of villains that want to take over the world? Do you know how cliche that sounds?”
Raphael shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what it sounds like. It’s true.”
“I can’t believe you. It’s beyond the limit of reasoning.”
The turtle shrugged. “Fine. Guess we’re on our own again, guys.”
“We should head back to the lair,” Donatello said. “I need to figure out exactly how long the earth has left.”
The others agreed and followed him. I sighed to myself and headed back home.