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Someone somewhere a long time ago blessed the world with a holiday that combined Christmas, birthdays, Mardi Gras, and Thanksgiving with the free reign of a summer state fair. It was seven days of feasting. Seven days of joyous chowing down, city wanderings, and happiness unlike anything else.
It was Pizza Week.
And on the last night it was only logical to go all out.
“Ohhh, if I have one more bite I am going to explode!”
“That’s the point!” Raph laughed. “So have that bite!”
Leo moaned and raised the half-eaten pizza slice in his hand. It trembled as it edged closer to his mouth. Donnie and Mikey scooched closer and began chanting.
“Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!”
Leo bit down, grimaced as he chewed, then swallowed.
“YEEAAHH!” they all cheered.
“I’m gonna be sick.” The rest of the slice slipped from his hand as he flopped backwards on the rooftop.
“And on that note-” Raph picked up the discarded pizza and finished it in one gulp. “-thus concludes another fulfilling Pizza Week!”
“Just in time, too,” Mikey mentioned, looking at his phone. “Any later and the Pizzasaurus Rex will get us!”
“The what?”
“Huh?”
“The Pizzasaurus Rex.” Mikey crossed his arms. “Dad said if we stay out too late it will eat us!”
“Oh.” Leo dropped his head back down. “Mikey, you do realize that’s just something Dad made up to make sure we come home on time, right?”
“Really?”
“I have to agree with Leon, Angelo.” Donnie stood up and stretched. “It’s a classic scare-the-child-into-behaving tale.”
“Which means there’s nothing to worry about,” Raph said gently, putting a hand on the youngest’s shell. “Let’s bounce. Last one to the sewer has to clip dad’s toenails!”
“Don’t say that, I’ll hurl!” Despite his full belly, Leo moved surprisingly fast. His scrambling feet kicked the empty pizza box backwards and it hit Donnie square on the nose, knocking his glasses off.
“Ow! Not fair!” he yelled. By the time he retrieved them, the roof was empty.
He took the time to clean the lenses; he already lost, so the margin of his defeat didn’t matter. Grumbling, he pushed them back onto his face.
And gasped.
Between the buildings, silhouetted against the full moon, was a massive pizza pie. It had gigantic jalapeño peppers for eyebrows, pepperoni for eyes, a mushroom for a nose, and a gaping mouth that could swallow a train car whole. Dripping, mozzarella cheese extended in front of it in the shape of two, tiny, tyrannosaurus arms.
Donnie gaped as the behemoth lumbered past him. It headed towards the docks and vanished into the sea. After another gobsmacked moment, the young turtle sprang into action and ran for the sewers as fast as his legs could carry him.
“I’m telling you, I know what I saw!”
“Reeeeaally,” Leo dragged out. “And what exactly could you see without your glasses?”
Donnie snarled and stamped his foot. “I saw it after I put my glasses back on, dum-dum. And after I cleaned them, too. Though they wouldn’t have fallen off in the first place were it not for your mad dash to avoid clipping dad’s toenails.”
“You’re not really going to have to do that, are you?” Mikey hugged his knees, visibly frightened by the thought.
“Hey, a bet’s a bet!” Raph crowed.
“Which is why I made it home first,” Leo said proudly.
“That’s so gross,” he whispered.
“Can we focus here?” Donnie waved his arms. “The Pizzasaurus Rex is real!”
“Okay, assuming that what you’re saying is true, then why are we just now hearing about it?” Leo crossed his arms. “I mean, the legend of El Chupacabra has been around forever. Same with the Yeti, and pretty much all other monsters. But now you expect us to believe that some new ‘Pizzasaurus Rex’ is on the scene? As of this week?”
Raph frowned. “And for that matter, why would it show up in New York? And not like, Italy or something?”
“That part is easy, Raphael. Clearly, we have the best pizza.”
“In the world, baby!”
“What I’m trying to say is,” Leo looked around and paused for dramatic effect. “Where did this thing come from?”
Donnie blinked. “The west.”
Leo face-palmed while their other brothers chuckled. “Not what I meant, Mr. Literal, but I’ll try again. What are its origins? Nothing just pops into existence like that. Where did the Pizzasaurus Rex come from? And the answer, my bro, is-”
“The Loch Ness Monster and Bigfoot!” Donnie shouted.
“Whoa!” Mikey’s eyes went wide.
Raph looked skeptical. “Where did you get that idea?”
“I’ve already begun my research, dear brothers.” Donnie tapped the wristband he’d been wearing around for the past month and a hologram displayed the front page of a tabloid. An angry-looking pizza dominated most of the page. A blurb beneath it showcased Bigfoot and Nessie’s love for each other.
“You do realize that’s a conspiracy magazine, right?” Raph said. “It’s all nonsense. I mean, how could anyone believe that a pizza monster comes from… that its parents are… I mean, I’m no expert… but that just doesn’t work.”
“Au contraire,” Donnie began with a mad and triumphant glint in his eyes. “It works because it doesn’t work! Most cryptids are one of a kind. They don’t match their begetters at all! Even when we go all the way back to ancient mythology there are gods and spirits giving birth to all kinds of strange beasts and monsters. Something totally new is to be expected!”
He mimed a mic drop and proudly put his hands on his hips. His brothers stared at him in silence.
“Dad’s imagination,” Leo said to himself. “The answer’s Dad’s imagination.”
Raph sighed and stood up.
“Where are you going?” Donnie demanded, triumph fading.
Raph looked uncomfortable and put on his Soothing Voice. “Look, uh, buddy, it’s not that we don’t believe you…”
“Except that we do,” Leo butted in. He frowned. “Not. We do don’t believe you.”
“Even with the evidence I have just laid forth?”
“What evidence?” Leo rose and waved his arms. “That tabloid talks about ‘alien sightings’ and ‘glowing mosquitoes’ on the same page! Plus, there’s a big flaw with your Bigfoot/Nessie theory.”
“What’s that?” Donnie leaned in.
“They don’t exist, either.” Leo laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know this is a lot to take in-”
“Oh, don’t give me that!” Donnie shoved the hand away. “How can you say such a thing when you still believe in Santa Claus?”
“Santa’s not real?” Mikey squeaked.
“Shh, Donnie!” Raph hissed while Leo gaped. “It’s okay, Mikey, of course Santa’s real.”
“How dare you say something as inconceivable as that before our baby brother!” Leo mustered, laying a hand on his heart.
Donnie rolled his eyes at the offended tone. The truth was going to be revealed sooner or later.
“Fine, if none of this is real enough for you…” a half-formed idea popped into his head. “Then I’ll just prove it!”
No one seemed to notice his declaration. Mikey had gone inside his shell, Raph was holding him, and Leo was babbling about Christmas movies to both of them. Donnie sighed. After a moment, he pushed his glasses against his face.
It was like what the rhetorical They always said: if you want to get something done, you do it yourself.
When figuring out how to hunt a mysterious creature, one needed to find the common variables. What areas did it frequent? What were the weather conditions? When was its last known sighting? What traces does it leave behind? What attracts it?
Donnie stood in his lab with a large sheet of paper spread out on the table before him. He twirled a pencil.
Fact #1: The Pizzasaurus Rex had appeared on the last night of Pizza Week. Was this significant? Was it just a coincidence? Did it have to do with the date? Something else?
Fact #2: There was a full moon. Should he consider werewolf ancestry somewhere in there?
Fact #3: It disappeared into the water by the docks. At the very least, the pizza had to be semi-aquatic. It probably took after its mother’s side. But did it live in the water? Or did it spend more time on land?
Donnie stomped his foot in frustration. This wasn’t enough to go on! There were too many guesses, what if’s and loose ends. He needed more info. He needed other eye-witness accounts and reports.
There was only one other person who seemed to regard it as seriously as he did.
Splinter was resting peacefully in that lazy state between half-asleep and semi-awake. His bed was comfy. His cozy blanket was drawn up to his neck. The mattress was super soft. He rolled over and his back gave a satisfying crack. There, juuuust right…
His eyes fluttered open for a moment in content, and there was a face three inches away from him.
“Yaahhh!” he screamed, shooting straight up into the air.
“Tell me what you know of Pizzasaurus Rex,” his child dead-panned.
“Hrrnnlgh?” The inarticulate sound was laden with many questions. For example, “Huh, what are you talking about?” and “oh lord, what did I tell the children this time?” plus “how long were you watching me sleep?” He coughed as his heart rate tried to calm down. “Purple, we’ve spoken about waking daddy up for anything that’s not an emergency.”
“I didn’t wake you up, I just waited until you woke up on your own.”
Okay, I definitely need to teach him how to not be creepy. Splinter’s ear twitched as his son pulled out a notebook and pencil.
“I need to know everything you know about Pizzasaurus Rex.” Purple looked at him expectantly.
Splinter’s mind was blank. Then Purple showed him the cover of a familiar tabloid. Oh, that. He’d needed a monster to scare his boys quick; grabbing inspiration from that front page was probably not his best idea. He doubted they would even fall for it.
But Purple was very smart. And if Purple believed it, perhaps the others did, too. Which meant he probably shouldn’t come clean just yet, lest this boogeyman lose its current effectiveness.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “The Pizzasaurus Rex is a ferocious monster. It emerges at night, drawn by, uh, the smell of pizza.”
“Does it eat the pizza?” Purple asked, scribbling away. He muttered something about cannibalism.
“Uh, no. It just likes the smell.” Splinter leaned forward. “It does eat children who stay out past their curfew. (And who wake their fathers up at five in the morning),” he muttered.
Purple just nodded, taking everything in stride. “Nocturnal… diet of children… does the full moon have anything to do with this?”
Sure, why not? “Oh yes. It only appears when the moon is full.” Splinter tugged the blanket around himself. “Is there anything else, Purple?”
“Yes. What is its known habitat? The sea, or the city? Are there multiple Pizzasaurus Rex’s? Where does it go during the day? What’s it’s mating call? What kind of scat or other biological evidence does it leave behi-”
This was a mistake, Splinter regretted as his son rambled. I should have just come clean. Or, wait… perhaps all this is because he is scared? “Listen, I don’t know much,” he interrupted, intending to soothe. “But you don’t have to worry about the monster ever finding us here.”
“Why is that?” Purple paused in his notes.
“Uhhh... because it cannot travel underground.”
“Why is that?”
“Erm, because a pizza traveling underground can get… moldy?”
“Why is that?”
Splinter gave up. “I don’t know, Purple, just go back to bed. It’s too early to be thinking about all of this.”
Purple scribbled down a couple more notes, then nodded. “Thank you, Papa. This has been very informative.” With a neat little bow, he exited the room.
Splinter sighed, sinking back into his mattress. I have no idea what that was all about.
Enough notes. Enough planning.
It was time for action.
Donnie carefully went over the shopping list for the 24th time as he waited nervously outside of April’s apartment. He jumped about a foot in the air when the phone in his hand buzzed with an incoming message.
You gonna help me with this stuff or not?
“Yes, of course!” He pelted down the fire escape and met her in the alley behind the building. Her bike was overflowing with shopping bags bursting at the seams. She unclipped her helmet and shot him a look that was half curiosity and half annoyance.
“Donnie, normally I’m down to help with whatever weird experiment you’re working on, but this time I gotta ask: what’s with all the meat?”
Donnie rapidly moved from one bag to the next, inspecting the contents. “You did get 100 pounds, right?”
April shrugged. “Eh, I grabbed as much as I could, and I lost some on the ride back, so, maybe not quite.” She poked her finger at him. “You still owe me, though.”
“But of course.” He whipped out his phone and sent her a link and set of instructions. “That program will let you in through the backdoor to all of channel 6 news: unedited footage, b-roll, live studio feeds and even the teleprompter scripts for the news anchors. Oh, there’s also the work schedule for that blond guy, Warrant Scone or whatever his name was.”
“Warren Stone,” she corrected quickly. A strange, rosy color flushed her cheeks. “Thanks.”
“No probles. Now, let’s get all this in the freezer.” He scooped up several bags of the ground beef and started running back towards the fire escape.
“Sure – wait, MY freezer??”
It was all coming together. Donnie had to fight the urge to tap his fingertips together and cackle maniacally.
It had taken almost a full lunar month to get everything ready. The deadline was critical, as he couldn’t pass up the first full moon since the cryptid’s appearance.
But now he was ready. Step One of the plan: he pulled out his phone and placed a very large pizza order. Satisfied that the driver was going to get the correct address, he snuck out of the lair.
The Pizzasaurus Rex was attracted to the smell of pizza. Well, now thirty large pizzas were en route to the building from whence he had first observed the beast.
Moving quickly, he arrived just as the pizzas did. The front lobby of the building was closed, lights dark at this time of night, but the delivery guy had instructions to leave the order in front of the door. As soon as the car drove off, Donnie began hauling the pizza up to the roof: ground zero.
Three industrial fans were already positioned at the top. He meticulously began spreading out all thirty pizza boxes, opening their lids wide. He turned on the fans for Step Two.
“Blow, my sweet Italian aroma, blow,” he encouraged.
He then set up Step Three: a video camera on a tripod. It was in the perfect position to capture a wide view of the approaching monster. He double-checked that it was recording and that it had plenty of battery life. Two extra batteries were planted nearby in case the worst happened. In addition to the video camera, Donnie tapped on his wristband to make sure his own goggles were capturing everything. Donnie-cam, as he called them. A backup. Everything was running perfectly.
Satisfied, he then busied himself with checking Step Four: the contraption that had taken up most of his time in the past month.
A catapult.
It really was genius, truly genius. There was no way he could capture a creature this large. He only wanted a video. But despite the slow gait of the Pizzasaurus Rex, it could actually move quite fast. Its size meant one step covered a lot of ground. He had watched it, utterly shocked, for only a few seconds before it disappeared.
He didn’t want seconds. He wanted a good picture. So, he needed a way to slow it down, for just a moment. Make it pause. Nothing small would do the trick, though. Housecats paid attention to bugs, but full-grown lions didn’t. He needed to go for size.
But something big enough to bother Pizzasaurus Rex was also too big for him to move. It wasn’t like he could lug a boulder up here. Anything he loaded on the catapult would have to be constructed while on the rooftop. It was a problem that had had him stumped for a while.
When the answer came to him, it was so genius that he had danced around for a full five minutes.
A giant meatball!
It was two birds with one stone! Not only would it fit perfectly in his catapult, adding to it bit by bit, but the smell of the cooking, sizzling, meat would add to the general aroma of pizza he was trying to achieve. It was perfect!
Giddily, Donnie began Step Five and fired up the stove he built on the roof a week prior. Opening up the ice chests containing all the meat April had bought, he began making the meatball. He had plenty of time; the cryptid ate children who were out after their curfew, so he had until then to complete his tasty projectile.
He hummed a little to himself as he set about cooking the first of the meat. He tossed it into the catapult’s bucket as soon as it was browned; it would pack itself into shape as he added more. He giggled. This plan was fool-proof. He would come home with undeniable proof of Pizzasaurus Rex and show his brothers exactly what-
“-are you doing?”
He jumped and spun, pointing a spatula at the voice. His three brothers stood at the edge of the roof, regarding him curiously.
“What are you doing here?” he screeched.
Leo shrugged. “Well, I heard you place that pizza order and guessed what you were up to. So I followed you because I wanted to see you fail, Raph followed me because he’s on a ‘responsible Big Brother’ kick, and Mikey followed Raph because he didn’t want to be left alone at the lair.”
“Donnie! Why didn’t you tell me you were throwing a rooftop cookout?” Mikey bounded around the scattered pizza boxes, scaring away inquisitive pigeons. “You put a stove up here? Can I help? Please?”
“Well, uh-” he flicked his eyes between them. He didn’t really want them here, terrified that they would mess something up, but… it would also mean four tasty children instead of one, which had to be more tempting. He grinned. “Well of course, Mikey. In fact, it’s great that you all have come to bear witness to the monster that is plaguing our time!”
“Donnie, we live in New York, we know where Wall Street is,” Leo rolled his eyes.
“It’s got an actual wall, right?” Raph whispered.
“Pizzasaurus Rex!” Donnie rubbed his hands together. “When the clock has struck past curfew, the cryptid, drawn by the tantalizing smell of pizza, will approach us. If you need more time to behold its sight and take newsworthy photographs, then I shall distract it with my giant meatball.” He spread his arms towards the stove.
“Oh, is that what you’re making?” Mikey clucked his tongue. “You can’t just brown a bunch of meat and expect to call it a meatball.” He manifested about a dozen different spices and began liberally adding them to the pan.
“Were you carrying those the whole time?”
“Raph! Put that pizza down!” Donnie stormed up to his brother who paused with a slice halfway to his mouth. “That’s to attract Pizzasaurus Rex!”
“Is it really gonna eat all this, though?” he pouted. “I mean, you have so many up here. And the fans are gonna make them colder faster.”
“It’s about the smell, Raphael, which means I need every available – Leo! Not you, too!”
Too late, his brother swallowed a slice. “Chill bro, it’s just one out of like, 500.”
“And every one counts! It’s bad enough I have to keep the pigeons away,” he grumbled.
“Mikey, be careful!” Raph rushed by him, pizza forgotten at the sight of the youngest tottering on the edge of the catapult, dumping in meat. Leo also gasped, but for different reasons.
“Dude! What is THAT?”
“Don’t touch it!” Donnie ran after them. “It’s the catapult for the meatball!”
Raph snatched Mikey away from it. “Don’t stand on it like that, what if it launches?”
“It shouldn’t,” Donnie held up his wristband. “I’ve got a remote trigger, here. But, knowing you all and accidents, I prefer everyone to just stay away from it until Pizzasaurus Rex gets here.”
Leo laughed. “Bro, that’s your plan? Hurl a meatball at it? Wouldn’t that, like, make it mad?”
“Every cryptid hunter is aware of the risks in their profession.”
“Dude, this is ridiculous, you built an entire catapult on a rooftop, you’re cooking more meat than a Brazilian steakhouse, and you’ve got a gazillion open-air pizzas that you won’t let us eat because you’re offering them to an imaginary-”
“Pizzasaurus Rex doesn’t eat pizza, it eats children that are out too late.” Donnie put his hands on his hips. “Which is another reason I’m not shooing you all away.”
“Hold on.” Raph’s head snapped up. “Are you saying we’re bait?”
“You followed me here!” Donnie’s eye twitched. “I’m just making the most out of this inconvenience.”
“Except now it sounds dangerous, Donnie, we need to have a talk about some of your-”
“I don’t mind being bait!” Mikey chirped, adding more meat to the pan. “Can we stay, Raph? Please?”
“Well…”
“There’s nothing to actually worry about, Raph, remember: The Pizzasaurus Rex doesn’t exist.”
“Prepare to eateth thy words, Leonardo, when you-” Donnie broke off with a choked gasp. “Is that my video camera?!”
Leo peered from around it and shrugged. “I figured it would be perfect for capturing this momentous occasion.”
“It’s supposed to be positioned on the tripod you heathen!”
He charged after his brother, who nimbly avoided him. Leo always was slippery to catch. They raced around the rooftop, taunting and cursing each other, slipping on stray pizzas and scaring away more pigeons. Mikey kept adding to the meatball, Raph lifting him up so he wouldn’t stand on the edge of the catapult’s bucket.
“You can’t catch me!” Leo gloated, dancing away with the camera. “Ladies and gentleman, we are witnessing the rabid Soft-shell turtle. They are not very dangerous in this state, however-”
“That’s it!” Donnie pressed a button on his wristband. A whirr sounded as the latest addition to his battle shell powered up. Forget running around after Leo, he had a new advantage!
Though, for a split second he suddenly remembered that this version wasn’t technically out of beta, yet.
The rotors from his new Hover Shell launched him forward with a scream.
He got a glimpse of Leo’s eyes widening in surprise as his brother tried to scramble away, but too late. He crashed into him, who crashed into Raph holding Mikey, and they all tumbled into the meaty catapult in a tangle of limbs.
“Ow!”
“Dude!”
“What the heck?”
“Okay… tasty.”
They squirmed, feet in faces, elbows in stomachs, hands in meat, when something bumped against Donnie’s wristband. A beep sounded.
His stomach dropped.
“Uh-oh.”
There was an abrupt jolt, like what a fly must feel when getting hit by a swatter, then a rushing, weightless, flying sensation.
“AAAAAAHHHHHHH!”
They screamed as they launched through the air. Bits of meat floated around them. The lights from the street appeared and disappeared below. There was no time to think, no time to process, only the rushing of the wind and then the-
-next rooftop.
“OW!”
“OOMPF!”
“Ugh.”
“Whoa!”
They burst down a coop someone had set up for doves, startling the poor birds. Donnie sat up slowly, bits of beef clinging to his shell and goggles. Raph spat out a mouthful of feathers. Leo pulled the mangled video camera out from under him.
Mikey popped out of his shell. “Ohmigosh!” He ran to the edge of the roof. “That thing launched us far!” He whizzed around with a wild grin on his face. “Can we do it again?”
“Nay,” Raph groaned.
“Uh, Donnie?” Leo got to his feet. “I think I kinda broke your camera.”
Donnie launched upright. “I can still fix this!” He began dialing away at his wristband. He removed his glasses and lowered his goggles down over his face. “Donnie-cam activated. We’re right at curfew, fellas! Any moment now!”
He ran up beside Mikey and scanned the street eagerly. Even over here, he could still smell the waft of pizza from the other building. No way could Pizzasaurus Rex miss it! Any moment it would come, any moment they would all see what fools they had been to disbelieve him.
He waited breathlessly, his brothers at his side. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. A half hour, and then another.
“I don’t think it’s coming tonight,” Mikey said.
“It will, it has to.”
They stayed out another hour, though Donnie’s hope was starting to shrink. The pizza smell had changed into something a little more gross, and from what he could see the entire rooftop had disappeared under a horde of pigeons. Finally, Raph gently took his arm.
“Let’s go home, Donnie. Maybe next time.”
A part of him wanted to rebuke him, and insist they stay out longer, but another part was very tired. “Fine,” he said dejectedly. “Maybe I just need more data.”
It took a long while to get back to the original rooftop, clean up the pigeonified pizza, turn off the stove, and dismantle the catapult enough so that people wouldn’t notice it during the day. By the time they made it back to the lair, it was almost morning. And they were all in desperate need of a shower.
Donnie crashed as soon as he was in bed, too exhausted to explore the many variables of What Went Wrong and What To Do Next Time. Sleeping on the problem turned out for the best, like so many experts said, because when he awoke he had a new solution.
“In short, there wasn’t enough of the pizza smell to attract it,” he bubbled excitedly to his brothers. “Pizza Week has entire blocks smelling like pizza, not just a tiny area like last night. And the odor persists longer, with each new day adding fresh pizza to it.” He strutted about before a whiteboard.
“So. I believe the next opportune moment to witness the Pizzasaurus Rex will be the next time a full moon coincides with Pizza Week!”
“Which is…?” Raph prompted.
Donnie pointed at the whiteboard. “Three years from now!”
“That long?” Mikey asked skeptically.
“Eh. Not interested. Are you even going to remember this three years from now?” Leo asked.
“But of course!” Donnie insisted. “Leo, when have you ever known me to forget anything?”
“You forgot me at the junkyard that one time.”
“Nope, I did that on purpose. Try again.”
Leo rolled his eyes and stood up. “Fine, then. I’ll hold you to it: Pizza Week three years from now, if no Pizzasaurus Rex shows, you’ll have to remember forever that I was right.”
“Scoff. Three years from now, you shall be proven the skeptical fool and suffer the humiliation of your incorrect paradigm.” Donnie planted his feet. “Besides, this gives me more than enough time to prepare.”
Three years later, however, there were larger issues at stake than the debated existence of Pizzasaurus Rex. When beloved pizza places are disappearing into sinkholes, nothing becomes more important than putting a stop to that madness. And, of course, nothing becomes more important than enjoying well-earned pizza after succeeding.
Great was the screech that ripped through the lair the following day, when Donnie realized that this was the year the full moon coincided with Pizza Week. That he missed his chance, how could he have forgotten? And so a new date was set, this time four years out, and that’s when surely everyone will know, and believe, in the Pizzasaurus Rex.