Shredder was the bad guy because he thought he was the good guy. That’s what made him better than the good guys – he was unpredictable and that is why he fascinated Rick. Shredder had his own honor system and could not be controlled by good or bad – he was a black knight, a force unto himself. Rick liked that.
Shredder wouldn’t shout “Kowabunga!”, Shredder would fuck you up and leave you broken and bleeding on the sidewalk. He was harsh – an acquired taste maybe – ruthless and fearless and one badass motherfucker.
Who else was Rick supposed to respect when his real Dad was such a pansy? “Kowabunga!” his Dad would shout, flopping onto him with his belly on the jumping castle. What a joke! Rick’s Dad was a useless gambler, but Rick wanted his Dad to be Bruce Lee and fly kick the testicles off someone.
Rick knew that he wasn’t being generous to his father, but he also knew that when the real bad guys came knocking at the door, his Dad would flop over like a non-venomous jellyfish.
So when the first intruder crowbarred his way through the front door, Ric was legitimately terrified. But his father leapt off the couch, his whole body trembling, and ran headfirst at the attacker.
Rick couldn’t believe his eyes. The man went down, his Dad’s muffled shout of “Kowabunga!” smothered in his chest.
Then the second debt collector came, and the third with their crowbars, and they smashed his father’s face until it was unrecognizable meat and he couldn’t hear his own screams in his ears. That’s not what Shredder would have done, he kept telling himself, That’s not what Shredder would have done.
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