This all started when one of the listers was relaying a story about trying to reach the back deck to fill the bird feeder after a significant storm. It turned into Raph trying to fill the feeder, and along came the photomanipulated art, then the story that leads up to the scene in the picture.
http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/44270704/It is copied from an email, sorry about the quote marks...
> Raph swiped the window free of steam to peer out onto the back patio.
> "Gnad, not again..." he muttered half to himself.
> "Gnad what," Mike asked, busily crocheting his 3rd afghan that day. Ever since he'd learned how to crochet from a book and had found several skeins of wool yarn in the attic, he was all for making their world a little cozier with afghans for everyone.
> "The birdfeeder's run out of food again. Look at that one little sparrow, just sitting there, all fluffed up against the snow and cold. Probably gonna starve and then freeze to death."
> Leo looked up from his perpetual sword-polishing. "Well, you know what to do, Raph..."
> "Yeah, it's always me, isn't it?"
> "Hey, you brought it up, you go out there."
> "Are you kidding? I'd have to dig a tunnel to get out to that frappin' feeder. Send Don out in his gnadding snow suit."
> "I need to get new batteries for my electric socks," Don protested from his workroom far down the hall. Don's auditory processing capabilities, which at times his bros suspected was next to that of a deaf person, always became uncannily acute when he heard any sentence with his name in it, or the mention of food, most of all if it included his name AND food.
> "What about batteries for your electric shovel," Mike chirped.
> "I wish somebody would take the batteries out that go to your mouth," Raph said and ducked when Mike threw a ball of yarn at him. He pitched it back at Mike, but the yarn unravelled into a meandering, tangled line that came to rest gently across Leo's shoulders.
> "Argh," Leo pushed the yarn off of him. "Keep that up, Mike, and you'll be tying a LOT of knots!"
> "Cranky, aren't we," Raph crooned, sniggering when Leo threw a balled up rag at him.
> "Go feed your sparrow."
> Raph muttered an expletive and then sighed as he got the bag of bird seed out of the cupboard. "I'm using your gnadding electric boots," he said barely aloud enough for anyone to hear.
> "Funny, Raph," Don's distant voice said from his workroom.
> Stomping into the nearest pair of galoshes, Raph pulled on his coat and then grabbed the snow shovel. He tucked the bag of seed under one arm, and yanked n the back door until it reluctantly opened. A wall of snow in the molded shape of the door greeted him. Taking a breath, he attacked the snow with the shovel, until he'd gone in far enough to close the door behind him. He realized what a mistake he'd made when he soon ran out of fresh air. He turned to go back into the house, but the door was locked on the inside.
> Nobody responded to his knocking on the door.
> "Crumbs..."
> Soon a circle opened on one of the door's steamed windowpanes, and Raph could just make out Mike's grin.
> "Let me in," Raph gestured frantically.
> Mike slowly shook his head, then pointed in the direction of the sparrow. He made a theatrically sad face.
> "You little-- wait till I--" Raph grit his teeth and turned to take out his frustrations on the snowbank in front of him.
Great... snow crust a foot thick... He then dropped the shovel and punched at the snow, till he'd made a hole large enough to crawl through. He pulled himself up, but before he could climb fully out, the crust suddenly gave way so that the upper half of his body fell forward and he was sliding face first down the slope of the drift at a quickening pace, only to be suddenly stopped by the wooden porch railing.
> "Aha--ow," he yelled, rubbing his forehead. He struggled to his knees, and nearly had his footing on the crust of snow, when his weight caused him to sink suddenly up to his eyebrows. Valiantly he held the bag of bird seed aloft, and slowly churned his way to the feeder at the far end of the porch. He lifted the roof off the feeder, poured the seed into the hopper, then slammed the lid shut. Then he made a hopping sort of about face to get his bearings and swam his way back to the kitchen door. Snow was down his boots, up his coat sleeves, down his neck, in his eyes, and up his nose. He blinked and groped for the door, which seemed to open of its own accord. The warm air of the kitchen slapped him in the face.
> "Bro, you would have won America's Funniest, let me tell you," Mike's voice said, still gasping from mirth. "Totally without a price tag, man. Never seen anything like it! We were all rolling!"
> "You're Alpo, pal," Raph said through chattering teeth, as he lunged for his brother. "Right, here, right no-w-yaaah!" The snow crusted under his boots had now partially melted and his feet went in two different directions. He crashed to the floor with a resounding boom and bird seed bounced off the ceiling and down onto every surface in the kitchen, including the top of the refrigerator.
> "Wow, what is this, a wedding reception?" somebody quipped, when everything came to a stop.
> "That's it..." Raph's temper had lost its steam. "I'm going into hibernation." He dropped his coat and boots and crawled up the staircase to his bedroom.
> "At least the sparrow's happy-- oh, look at that, a bunch of pigeons have just come in, they're going to empty that thing in seconds! Looks like it will have to get filled again pretty soon, " Don said, his hands cupped around his face against the window.
> "Bummer," Mike said cheerfully, until he noticed Don and Leo glaring at him. Mike sighed and let his shoulders slump in defeat. "Okay, I'll go out, next time."
> "Good," Leo said, satisfied, as he went back to cleaning his blades.
> "As long as I can borrow Don's electric socks..."
