I'll try to update once a week at least! Reviews are very much accepted, and the more helpful criticism, the better! So, how do you like this chapter? Let me know!

This story (which will probably get very long) takes place directly after Karai's Vendetta (so April is living with the turtles) but before "Pulverizer Returns!" I just wanted to imagine what crazy activities the turtles come up with during those long episode breaks!

I do not own TMNT in any way, shape, or form...so sad.

And if you have an idea for a prank that April, Leo, Mikey, Raph, Donnie, Splinter, or even Spike can pull, you can tell it to me and I might consider putting it in!

"What are you doin', Don?"

Donatello rolled his eyes. "What does it look like I'm doing, Mikey?"

"How do you expect me to know?" Now that Michelangelo had walked into Donatello's lab, he figured he might as well stay and see if he could break his five-minute record. He prided himself with how quickly he could get Donatello into an all-out shouting fest. But his record with Raphael was even more impressive; nineteen seconds.

Michelangelo brought over a swivel chair and sat on it backwards. "What'cha doin'?" He leaned over his brother's shoulder, watching Donatello try to fit a little computer chip into a device. "What'cha doing?"

Donatello paused for a moment and closed his eyes. Just count to ten. Maybe he'll leave. Figuring he shouldn't work with breakable objects while Michelangelo was around, Donatello put the phone to the side and started to draw on a blue-print for a new invention.

"What'cha doin'? What'cha doin'? What'cha doin'?"

The pencil in Donatello's hand snapped in two and the top part fell onto the paper. I'm not going to snap. He wants that. Donatello could feel his entire body shaking in anger. "Mikey, will you please leave? I'm working on something important."

"When you tell me what you're doing." The turtle sat back in the chair, closed his eyes, and stuck his tongue out.

Donatello stuck his foot against the wheeled bottom of Michelangelo's swivel chair and pushed. The chair, with Michelangelo in it, slid backwards and bumped into the wall. "Ow! What gives?" the turtle asked as he rubbed the back of his shell that'd come in contact with the wall. He walked the chair back over and sat in it again. "What'cha doin'?"

"Oh, for the love of...Mikey, I'm just figuring out how to fix my T-phone. You broke it last night! Why did you throw it at Raphael?" Donatello whined, holding up the T-phone that had broken in two.

"He threw a pillow at me."

Donatello held his hands above his head in a 'Why me?' position and plonked his head down on the table. "Why meee..."

Michelangelo smiled; he was getting to him. "What'cha doin'?"

The purple-masked turtle brought his head up slightly and gave his brother an exasperated look and then dropped his head on the table again. Repeatedly. "Mikey, T-phones are not weapons. You don't throw them at people."

"Why not? You can just fix them every time."

With an angry cry, Donatello snapped, leaping out of his chair and pressing a finger against Michelangelo's forehead. "I am not just around to fix the things you break!"

Michelangelo grinned evilly. Phase One was done. Now, to add six more exclamation points to that sentence, Donny. Leaning back in the chair, Michelangelo hooked his fingers together and cracked his knuckles like Raphael did sometimes when he was gearing up for a fight. "Are to."

"Am not!" retorted Donatello without a second's hesitation.

"Are to," Michelangelo said nonchalantly, leaning in close to his brother's face.

"Am not!" Donatello was beginning to go red in the face with anger, and red did not compliment green, but it made him look absolutely ravenous. Michelangelo kept up his bravery and continued.

"Are to."

The back and forth argument of no end continued for another two minutes. The orange-masked turtle knew he was going to have to finish it up quickly if he wanted to break his record, having only two minutes left to go.

Donatello had armed himself with his bo staff and was now inching towards his brother, toting the staff like a long gun. "Am not," he whispered menacingly, malice agleam in his eyes. He knew what Michelangelo wanted and was putting a large amount of restraint on not shouting himself hoarse.

Donatello could almost see the light bulb blink above his brother's head. The younger turtle ran to Donatello's table and grabbed a hammer and held it up to the sky. Then, he placed it inches away from the screen of the nearly fixed T-phone, raised his eyes to Donatello, and brought the hammer once again into the air.

Shock surged through Donatello. He begged, "You wouldn't! You don't know how much work I have to put into those phones every day!"

With a satisfied grin, Michelangelo began to bring the hammer down. Donatello closed his eyes in horror and shouted. "NOOOOOOOOOO! MIKEY, YOU IMBUSILE! YOU LITTLE RAVING MENACE!"

Five..four...three..two.. "MIKEY, STOP OR I'LL SNAP YOUR SHELL IN TO A MILLION PIECES!" Donatello waited a few seconds but never heard the sound of a phone snapping in two. He opened his eyes.

Michelangelo was holding the hammer mere centimeters from the T-phone's screen, smiling at his brother. Mission accomplished. Quickly, he took out his stop watch and saw that it read 3:23. He'd beaten his old record by a landslide! Sweeping the stop watch back into the spot where he normally kept his nunchucks, he gave Donatello a bow and strided towards the door. "Thank you for your cooperation, Donatello." Without looking back, he threw the hammer back onto the table and it landed exactly where it had been.

"Oh no, you're not! No way you're getting away that easy!" Flush was starting to creep up on Donatello's face, and not only from anger, but from embarrassment. He threw his bo staff like a spear, hurtling it through the air.

Michelangelo ducked. The staff rammed against the door with full force and the turtle was surprised that it clattered to the floor instead of boring straight through the wood and hitting someone in the other room in the eye. "Hey, chill!"

Turning around, Michelangelo saw the pure horror of an angry Donatello. Any more insulting pranks and he'd literally have steam pouring out his nostrils and ears like in those old cartoons. "Chill?" the turtle spat, swiping his hand through the air. "I will not chill!"

Behind him, Michelangelo's hand fumbled for the doorknob. With a stroke of luck, he managed to grab hold of it. Speaking fast, he twisted the doorknob and swung the door wide open. "Your large amount of time devoted to this record-setting project has been largely appreciated, but I'm afraid I am no longer in need of your services. Good day!"

Taking no time to see if Donatello was pursuing him, Michelangelo bolted out of the room and barricaded himself in the turtles' bedroom, propping a table against the door.

Leaning against the table and catching his breath, the turtle brought his stop watch out and swelled with pride at the 3:23 time. I should really send this to Guinness World Records...

He turned around and peered through a hole in the door to see in Donatello was tracking him, and was relieved to see that he wasn't. ...And Donatello to a horror movie audition, he finished his thought.

Donatello groaned and let out a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His brother was practically running at the speed of light and was out of view in mere seconds. The turtle bent over a grasped his bo staff he'd thrown, holding it with his left hand and dropping it against his right over and over while he thought. Well, I gave him a good show. Now it's time for the finale.

"Now, where does Raph keep his sai?" he wondered aloud, plodding out of his lab.