After his morning meditation, Mikey makes his way to the dusty, cracked mirror above his desk. He runs a brush through his salt and pepper hair (thatâs mostly salt now, but just let him have this) and pulls it into a half-up-half-down-do, tying it back with his old orange mask.
He steps out of room and spots Casey Jr. waddling down the hall. With a smile, Mikey rushes up behind the toddler, grabbing his waist and tossing him into the air. Casey Jr. squeals in surprise, then giggles when he looks down to see Michelangelo floating on his back underneath him. The boy lands on Mikeyâs plastron with a soft thump, riding him like a raft as they slowly float down the hall.
âGood morning, Junior!â
Casey Jr. throws his arms in the air. âMoâning Gampa Mikey!â
The ride comes to an abrupt halt as the box turtle stares in bewilderment at the child sitting on his stomach. âGrandpa who now?!â
âGampa Mikey,â Casey Jr repeats, tapping Michelangeloâs chest.
Mikey makes flustered sounds before heâs able to form an actual sentence. âWhat the- who said Iâm a grandpa?â
âUkul Eeo said gampas are peepul with gwey hair,â the toddler explains, patting the top of the turtleâs head.
âOh no he didnât!â Mikey grabs Casey Jr. around the middle and tucks him under one arm as he touches his feet to the ground. He storms into the dining hall and marches straight up to the red eared slider whoâs sleepily sipping on some stale black coffee.
Mikey takes the boy out from under his arm and holds him up in front of Leo like heâs showing off a stuffed bear. âJunior, say it again what you called me.â
The older turtle laughs into his mug, sloshing coffee all over his hand and the table. âWhat?â he chuckles.
Mikey glares at his brother. ââGrandpas are people with grey hairâ,â he quotes Juniorâs words.
Leo sets the cup down and tries to shake the liquid off his hand. âWell, they say the truth comes from the mouths of children.â
âI know youâre the one who told him that!â Mikeyâs pitch rises with the growing offense in his voice.
âMe?â his older brother puts his non-coffee soaked hand to his chest in fake dismay, clutching pearls that arenât there. âWhy on earth would I do such a thing? Teaching a child the incorrect use of a word like that,â he shakes his head, standing up from the table. âWhy thatâs just irresponsible.â He turns to walk away, but not before casting a smug look at Mikey over his shoulder. âAnyway, Iâve got things to do, resistances to lead. Have fun with the kid, old timer!â
Mikey stares flabbergasted at the retreating slider. Leo is already a good few feet away by the time he recovers enough to shout after him, âWELL AT LEAST I HAVE HAIR!â
His brother simply waves a hand in response.
The mystic warrior pouts angrily. He pulls Casey Jr. in and hugs him to his chest, looking down into the curious young eyes staring back at him. âI am not a grandpa. I am UNCLE Mikey.â
The turtle nods sharply, and Casey Jr. giggles at the exaggeratedly serious look on his face.
