Extend the Story - Add a Room

"Michaelangelo, wait!" You hollar, joggin to catch up with him.

He continues walking, Casey waiting for him a little farther up the tunnel, and as you close the distance between you, you hear him conversing with Casey. "Gnarly news, Casey Jones. He totaly made me some acid, dude! He is such a fucking tool!!"

You grab hold of his shoulder and spin him around to face you. "Whoa, Donatello. I didn't know you were back there."

"No shit you didn't. I doubt very strongly you would have called me a tool if you had." You say coldly.

"I didn't say tool, dude. I said fool." He clarifies for you. Casey smacks himself in the forhead with an open palm, shaking his head in sheer disbelief of Michaelangelo's stupidity.

"That's not much better, Mike." You say.

"Did I say fool? Whoa dude, I am so stoned. I meant to say mule. Yeah, mule."

"Mule?" You question.

"Yeah... Uh like a work mule." He elaborates in some stoner delerium infested attempt at reasoning. "Like you totaly worked hard on this shit. Like a work mule."

"Or a jackass." Casey intervenes, cracking a sarcastic smile at the corners of his mouth.

"You're not helping, dude." Mike says to him.

"Listen, Mike. I need to have that acid back." You hold out your hand, as though he was just going to be like "Alright." And hand it back.

"No way, man. Why the hell would you want it back?" He questions you.

And you reply:

"I think I screwed up the batch. That's some sort of crossbreed between turpentine and super glue."