Never one to oppose frivolous impulse spending, your dear author has never had any qualms about, say, dropping $40 for a stuffed Jason Voorhees doll. Or $70 for a horrendously overpriced Shock Suspen-Stories Volume 2. Or about a week's paycheque for the entire HBO Tales From the Crypt DVD collection, which is still buried under a ton and a half of packing peanuts at the time of this writing. And while some of my esteemed colleagues may say that I'm otherwise missing a few teeth off the main sprocket, what with all the currency I've thrown down the tubes over the last few years, I remain quietly unphased. Spending money on useless crap makes me feel good. And it makes me a good little drudge in the eyes of our vicious consumer culture overlords.

So getting royally screwed while purchasing a twenty-year-old Ninja Turtles comic? Hardly something to lose sleep over. Granted, I probably could've gotten the same issue for a dollar or so off Ebay with little to no effort. But I would've had to pay for shipping -- which, I admit, wouldn't have cost more than a couple of bucks at most. But then again, I would've had to wait a week or two for the thing to arrive. Which would have taken considerably less time if I'd opted for Expedited Shipping. Which I usually do. So, uhh...Yeah. I got screwed.

But it's a good kind of 'screwed.' You know, the kind that makes you sort of regret being taken advantage of in the most basic and vile way, but still pretty pleased with the resulting aftermath. Not unlike that time you were drunk and in college, and there was that one attractive freshman with the neat Ramses tattoo under her left...

Knee.

Ha. Anyhow, fifteen bucks for the above mentioned issue. (Which, incidentally, is what I paid Ms. Ramses. True story.) To the best of my knowledge, no individual in recorded history has ever spent more than $4 for TMNT #9, and with a two-decade old sticker price of $1.50, I'm pretty sure that means Pendragon Comics charged me 1000% more than they had any right to.

But I digress. Fifteen bucks spent on Ninja Turtles is fifteen bucks well spent in my book, and "The Passing" is one of those great TMNT issues from back when the franchise (if you could even call it that) was just getting on its feet. This was 1986; no cartoon, no action figures, and no feature films. Just a whole bunch of gritty, quirky tales written in classic Eastman and Laird fashion, beautifully rendered in eye-catching black and white.

Now while TMNT #9 isn't the strongest issue in terms of visuals and layout -- some of the panels do seem a little weak compared those in previous issues -- the storyline is class. The book opens with a harrowing samurai battle in pre-industrial Japan, where we find a young Asian man lost amidst the chaos looking quite peculiar in his NYU t-shirt and matching boxer shorts. The helpless time traveller spies a legion of flag-toting warriors just before he awakes in his bed in present day New York City, screaming bloody murder. It seems his dreams have been haunted lately by this recurring vision of battle in a faraway land.

Cut across town to what we learn are the "Pre-Teenage" Mutant Ninja Turtles, who are busy practicing their fight techniques under the watchful gaze of Master Splinter. The grizzled old rat chastises Donatello for his weak blocking thrusts and then scuttles off to meditate, where he feels "a presence on the astral plane" -- sort of like gaydar, I assume, only more mystical. With a little effort, Splinter manages to make contact with an elderly Japanese man who, lying sick in his death bed, has been reaching out spiritually to anyone who might be listening.

The old man explains that the spirit force of the great Gosei samurai clan has been passed down from father to son throughout time. Now it's his time to pass it along to his son, Kenji, but he lives in New York City and has turned to evil, heading up the notorious Goseico, Inc. crime syndicate and doing all sorts of nasty wheelings and dealings. The man hopes instead to pass the spirit force on to his grandson, before he too is swept up in a life of crime and the bushido spirit of their ancient clan is lost forever.

So Splinter and the old man switch bodies -- easy peasy lemon squeezy -- and Hatsumi, in his temporary rodent avatar, hurries downtown to find his grandson and bestow upon him the way of the warrior. Accompanied by a quartet of young terrapin ninjas, natch.

How does it all turn out? Does the grandson finally accept his ancestor's spirits? Do the turtles beat up a bunch of gun-toting ninja guards? Does the old Japanese fart die happily ever after? You'll have to drop $15 on your very own overpriced copy of "The Passing" to find out -- or $40 on the new collected book, which includes the story in question.

Or, you know, read the entire issue online. Whatever.