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There once was a bitter old man. He lived alone in his old farmhouse long after his wife had passed.

“How did she die?” Mikey asked.

“What?” Raph snapped.

“How did his wife die?” he innocently asked again.

The four brothers sat on their blankets in a circle. They had made a tent in their living room out of extra linens and after hours of begging and pouting, Splinter had agreed to allow them to keep their tent up and camp out in it for one night only.

“How am I supposed to know how she died?” Raph growled.

“Well it's your story!” Mikey argued.

“Mikey, shoosh!” Leo said. “Let Raphie tell the story.”

“Anyway, as I was saying...”

The man would stand at his living room window all day and watch all the cars and people that passed his home, daring them to step too close.

“Okay, technically, a car can't step anywhere...”

Raph groaned. “Donnie, shut up! You know what I mean!”

“W-what would he do to the p-people who did come too close?” Mikey dared ask.

Raph smirked. “I'm glad you asked that...”

If ever the old man caught someone who trespassed on his lawn, he would take them into his attic and gut them to death.

“Raph,” Leo scolded. “You're already letting this story get too gruesome. You're scaring Mikey.”

“N-no,” Mikey argued. “I-I'm okay. It's j-just getting good.”

“See?” Raph said. “He likes it. So on with the story...”

One evening, the man ran out of his favorite thing to eat with human flesh: rye bread. So he got in his old red car and went off to the market.

“He likes to eat human flesh on rye bread?” Donnie raised an eye-ridge.

“Yes,” Raph said, exasperated. “Who's telling the story here?”

“D-does he eat t-turtle flesh?” Mikey asked.

Raph smirked. “He eats anything that crosses his property line.”

Mikey swallowed hard.

It was raining that day, and on his way to the market, he lost control of his car from the water on the road and wound up in a horrific car accident.

“You mean he hydroplaned,” Donnie corrected.

“What?” Raph growled.

“He hydroplaned,” Donnie clarified. “It's when the tires on an automobile start to...”

Leo groaned. “Oh jeez, can we just get back to the story?”

The old man was killed in the car accident. Obviously, he was too evil to get to Heaven, but for the first time ever, even Hell didn't want him. So his spirit was sent back to his mortal body.

“Can that really happen?” Mikey piped up.

“Yes,” Raph replied. “Did I mention that this was a true story?”

“Huh?!” Mikey squeaked.

Leo sighed. “Raph's just kidding, Mikey. Of course it isn't true.”

Raph groaned. “Such a buzz kill...”

When the doctors found that he had returned to life, they replaced his mangled arm with a prostetic arm made of gold and sent him back to live in his farm house.

“Fake limbs aren't made of gold!” Leo argued. “Aren't they supposed to be plastic or metal or something?”

“I want a golden arm...” Mikey mumbled.

“Be quiet!” Raph snapped. “It's my story.”

One night, as the old man slept, some young teenagers broke into his house on a dare and stole his golden arm.

“That wasn't very nice,” Mikey commented.

“He was eating people, shell-brain,” Donnie argued. “Who cares if someone steals from him?”

Mikey shrugged. “Splinter says 'two wrongs don't make a right'.”

Raph groaned. “Anyway...”

To this day, the immortal old man stands in his living room window, watching the cars go by. Only now, every time a car stops or breaks down near his house, he emerges from his house saying repeatedly “Where's my golden arm?”. There is no escaping him because even if you drive away, he will follow you home and kill you and eat you in your house. All the while chanting “Where's my golden arm?”

Mikey was shivering under his blanket. “I-is it over?”

“The end,” Raph finally said.

“That's it?” Leo scoffed. “That was stupid.”

“And highly illogical, I might add,” Donnie said. “Human immortality is impossible, for one, and a man following a speeding car on foot is...”

“Okay, okay,” Raph snapped. “So it wasn't the best scary story. Let's see any one of you come up with anything better.”

“No more!” Mikey screeched. “No more scary stories!”

“Ugh, you ruin everything you big baby,” Raph argued.

“Raphie stop it,” Leo scolded. “I'm tired anyway, so let's just go to sleep, alright?”

“S-sleep?” Mikey shuddered. “C-can't we stay up and t-talk or something?”

“We tried that, but you got scared,” Raph snarled.

Thud!

A sound was heard from outside of the homemade tent.

“Did you hear that?” Leo spoke up.

“Y-yeah...” Mikey replied, huddling closer to his oldest brother.

Thud!

“There it was again...” Donnie whispered.

“You babies,” Raph teased. “It's a sewer. There's always weird noises...”

Ugggh...

Mikey practically crawled onto Leo's lap and the other two huddled closer to him as well.

“...okay, w-what was that?” Raph squeaked.

“Where's my golden arm?”

The four boys gasped and Mikey hid his face in Leo's neck.

“N-no...” he squeaked and began to cry.

“Where's my golden arm?”

The voice drew closer.

“D-donnie, go get Splinter...” Leo whispered, holding onto Mikey.

“No w-way!” Donnie replied. “I'm not g-getting e-eaten. The golden-arm man is out there!”

“Where's my golden arm?”

Mikey squeaked. “I w-want da-addy.”

“I-it's okay, Mikey-y. He wo-on't find us in h-here,” Leo attempted to reassure him.

The entrance to the tent burst open and a figure crawled in.

“Where's my golden arm?”

All four boys screamed at the top of their lungs. Raphael got up and attempted to attack the figure, but it picked him up and chuckled.

“There, there, my sons, it is just me,” the figure spoke.

“D-daddy?” Donnie squeaked.

“I was just coming to check on you and I overheard Raphael's story,” he explained. “I thought I said no scary stories tonight.” He set down Raph.

Raph shrugged. “We tried...”

Leo pried Mikey off of him and moved his hand to find it met with the blankets beneath him warm and damp. “What the...” He looked down and found that it was all around him and Mikey. He gasped. “Mikey, did you pee?!”

Mikey did not answer, he just sat shaking and crying.

“Michelangelo, are you alright?” Splinter asked.

Mikey shook his head. “Scared...” he choked out.

“Aw, honey, I am sorry,” Splinter crawled to Michelangelo. His hand also met the damp warmth that surrounded him. He cringed, but scooped up his frightened son and held him close. “I did not mean to frighten you this way.”
“A-arm...”

Splinter sighed. “Let's get you cleaned up. I suppose we are camping out with me tonight.”