Normally how this would work is, Mike would bounce around the room like a kid on Christmas morning until one of his brothers caved and went with him to the store. He was fully capable of going by himself, but there's just something about having someone there to squee at that makes the whole pilgrimage it that much more fun. Well, fun for Mike at least, and in the end that's what really matters.
These days though, things are hardly normal. For one, his brothers aren't around to bounce at. Raph has taken up residence in the steeple of a church on the West Side, while Leo remains underground in the reservoir service bunker he found. Donnie? Well, Donnie's still up in NoHo with Master Splinter...and while there is a good amount of bouncing energy generated during the whole New Comic Day process, it's certainly not enough to bounce up to Western Massachusetts.
April and Casey are no help either. Ever since he moved in they've both taken full-time day jobs, so by the time they get home from their long afternoons of drudgery, the shops are closed. And really, New Comic Day is not fun when it turns into New Breaking-And-Entering-Comic Day. Trust Mike on this.
A few blocks from April and Casey's apartment there is a small Mom and Pop operation which still maintains its soda stanThis is why for the last few weeks New Comic Day has involved an elaborate costume, one well stocked diaper bag, a baby-front-pack...and the promise of ice cream. Mike has looked long and hard at every parenting and baby book he could get his three-fingered hands on, and he has yet to find one that clearly states that it's bad to bribe small children with ice cream. This has nothing to do with the fact that he purposely rips those pages out on sight, nothing what so ever. Totally unrelated is his growing Bad Parenting collage, which is magnificent.
Suited up and ready to go, Mike and Shadow head out into the brisk early spring afternoon. The comic shop is packed, due to the students newly returned from spring break actively avoiding any and all reference to the impending doom of finals. Packed shops are good, they're easier to hide in, which is helpful when you're a five foot tall talking turtle.
Shadow, good to her gurgle, behaves herself and only manages to out screech her uncle a handful of times. Behavior worthy of a small soft serve cone, most of which Mike will end up wearing anyways.
Mike pops in, picks up a root beer float for himself, and the aforementioned cone for Shadow before using his trench coat-covered-shell to open the door.
Had he been watching where he was going, he might have noticed that the exit he's about to walk through...does not lead home.