December 25th, 1992. A little 9-year-old boy sits playing with his new Ninja Turtles. Dressed in a black suit that was 2 sizes two big, he sat there looking at Space Explorer Leonardo. Bebop was about to get the living pulp beaten out of him. Smash. Bam. Pow. Master Splinter would love watching his little protégé beat the living snot out of the evil crony. Unfortunately for little Kyle, Santa didn’t bring him a Splinter figure. K Mart must have been out of them. In fists of fury and rage, a button goes flying off of Kyle’s suit jacket and on to the hard would floor in the dining room.

Lady Blake, queen of the castle, just sighed and said, “Kyle, be more careful”. It was a hectic day for the domestic goddess. The house was filling with a plethora of aromas. Burning Clove. Garlic. Turkey, potatoes, beats, all wafting in from the kitchen. The smell of snow mixed with the exhaust from a car come sneaking in through the cracked window. Jimmy Stewart on the television. It’s a Wonderful Life, what a picture perfect lie. The loud sounds of Bing Crosby crooning along to, “White Christmas’ stormed in from the same cracked window.

A moment passes and the doorbell chimes in. Ding-dong. Drab and devoid of any character. Little Kyle’s mother halts the preparations for her seven-course grand feast. The lovely hostess, the mistress of the manor, opens the royal gates after a slight moment of hesitation. To her amazement, a group of five carolers, three men and two women, start their tone-deaf rendition of, “The First Noel”. Queen Blake called for her adoring king to come quick.

Lord Blake, with his gruff but lovable voice asks what the trouble is from a far. “Just come”, she yells at him. From the distance the alpha Blake appears. Dressed in rugged blue jeans that had started to wear, and a black/red flannel shirt, straight out of an L.L. Bean catalogue. His sleeves were rolled to show off his hair arms as well as the fact that he had been hard at work. The couple stood there listening intently, smiling, feeling total bliss until the final word of “Jingle Bells”. The carolers left as quickly as they arrived. The man picked up his petite wife and kissed her warmly. The scratch from his five o’clock shadow was sure to itch at his wife’s silky porcelain skin. Her cheeks turned brick red. Like a virginal schoolgirl, she told her lover, “not in front of Kyle”.

Pre-pubescent Kyle stuck his tongue out with a mild, “ick”. In a few years he would get what it was all about. He’d learn all about sex from his school yard chums. He’ll see a girl’s privates from playing doctor with little Sarah Becker, the girl down the street. They rode the bus home together every day. It was her idea, Kyle just went with the flow.

Twenty-something Kyle wondered what happened to Sarah. What she was doing, how big her tits were, and how many guys she let fuck her. After snapping back into reality, he brought his girlfriend into his bedroom. He would stick his tongue in her with a mild, “slurp”. He knew what it was all about, all the joys of physical contact with girls. His buddies taught him all about it in fifth grade. He would play, “Twister” with her for an our, touching every skin cell on her body. Twisting and turning. Fun for the whole family, at least Kyle’s. Kyle was the only Blake left alive.