The tortoise mirth and woe

It must have been 1990, and I was asked to a friend of mine's for the evening. His Mum was into keeping 'exotic' animals, and spurred on by the success of "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" she'd recently got a couple of young tortoises (tortii?). It's uncommon knowledge that young tortoises don't hibernate, but my mate's Mum had raided the book department of WHSmith and had manuals on how to look after these potentially lucrative reptiles, so no worries there. They were kept in tupperware containers, without the lid I hasten to add, along with a little pot of water, a few lettuce leaves and a lot of cotton wool. She'd asked my mate if he thought one was dead because it hadn't moved much. I took a look into it's shell and I personally thought it was asleep, and assured her that just a little bit of heat would probably wake it up a bit. Placing it's fist sized shell on one of those heaters disguised like rocks, we went about as normal, settling down with a drink in front of the TV.
Some 20 minutes later, and we were surprised to hear a high pitched noise from the tortoise. I suspected it was a bit too warm, and was maybe crying. Getting up to investigate my mate walked over to the sleeping chelonian, where upon it promptly exploded, showering all three of us in sharp bits of shell, a substance that can only be described as similar to the inside of a McDonalds Apple Pie, and a few maggots. It had indeed been dead for a few weeks, and then 'boiled in the bag.'
I'd guess it's sibling is presumeably still alive today, if not being served in a pie shop somewhere.