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PostPosted: Fri Feb 08, 2008 5:33 pm 
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Joined: Sun Dec 30, 2007 12:14 am
Posts: 325
In the immortal words of Professor Quirrel from Harry Potter, I'm going to have to call TROLLLL IN THE DUNGEON on this sucker. Do you want to know why I'm sounding out the troll klaxons? It's because this fanfic possesses a quality of hard-core suckage so powerful, it could form a black hole and rip out any brain cells in the surrounding area. The sheer magnitude of this idiocy could be transmuted to energy form and could feasibly run my laptop for three fucking years. This is a slap in the face from the writer. In writing this thing, they have shamed all of Creation. I can not allow myself to believe someone could write this with a straight face.

In short, this thing is a priceless jewel of an atrocity. I had to prepare myself to read this. It actually drove me temporarily insane. I flailed, foaming all over my keyboard, my mind a hole of terror and impending oblivion. And then a single thought formed coherency:

"Do it...for the TARTS."

So, I grabbed a big old hypodermic needle and jabbed a sedative into my kneck.

What was that? Kneck? Yeah, you heard me. It's kneck. It's an organ located around the throat. You'd think I meant neck, but in actuality it's a very tricky, rare word found in ancient tomes of anatomy. Incidentally, I learned about it in this very fanfic, because that's where the villain stabs himself. IN THE KNECK.

Guys, are you sure you want to go on? Fair warning here. Alright, you asked for it.

In truth, I shouldn't be reviewing this thing at all. I mean, it's brilliant the way it is. There is no witty turn of phrase, no amount of scathing sarcasm that could possibly match this sucker for sheer train wreck comedy value. All of my commentary is just gilding the lily on this fiasco of a fanfic.

It starts, as much as you could say thing even starts, with everyone pestering Don, as always, to fix their equipment. Yeah, of course, because no one ELSE knows how to fix a flying skateboard. And then there's Leo with his electrical toothbrush, always breaking that sucker because of his obsessive-compulsive tooth-brushing habits. And Don thinks this is too much. This is insane. THE VOICES ARE GOING CRAZY. What is he, freakin' Mr. Fix-It MacGyver? Oh, no, baby, he's out of there like the Hebrews from Egypt. The man is GONE. He's putting his foot down, HOH YEAH.

So he screams out something in caps lock and goes for a walk up top. No one really cares. What is it with fanfic, anyway? Either it's the end of the goddamn world when one of them takes it in their fool head to brave the surface world, or it's totally cool and no one cares. These guys are on the apathetic side of the spectrum: they shrug and play bcideo games. These are probably some space-age type video games. (Geez, are those anything like zydeco music? Bcideo and zydeco tonight! Break out the crawfish! WOO!)

Anyway, Don plays with a random kitten, and then gets bored and decides to hop rooftops. I just can not believe this stupid story, and I just started. Donatello. Gets bored. Hops rooftops. The kid can make death machines out of waffle makers and when he gets bored he hops rooftops. Yeah, sure, suspension of disbelief I can understand, but can we at least have him hopping rooftops because he's trying out this nifty new rocket-propelled pogo stick? Give this thing a little dramatic flair, will you? Where's your sense of adventure? Of action? Of PATHOS?

Oh, crap. Why did I ask for that? Don, in the midst of his fascinating rooftop adventures, hears: "SLASH! CLANG!"


Last edited by Ivy-chan on Mon Apr 07, 2008 11:27 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Fri Feb 15, 2008 3:09 pm 
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Tart Admin

Joined: Sun Dec 30, 2007 2:22 pm
Posts: 307
Location: Under My Hat
Ivy? I'm not sure that I should even mention this, given how you much you've suffered already at this author's hands. But... and please sit down and put on a helmet... she's UPDATED.

There's a second chapter. If you are drawn to it, as i know you are often drawn to bad fic, please please please use protection. Elbow and knee pads, wrist guards, shin guards, the works. Please don't hurt yourself.


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