Author's Note: Ugh, my internet chooses NOW to be pissy? This is the second time I'm writing this author's note. Grumblegrumble.
SORRY, UM. HI. WELCOME BACK. IT'S GOOD TO BE BACK. Haven't updated for more than a month. Go me! Let's get a few important things out of the way. First of all, this is NOT set in the TAoTMatRI universe. Second of all, they're six years old. Third of all, in "Ginger Kids," Clyde's room is totally tricked out in dinosaur stuff. I'm not even kidding. I cannot make this stuff up. Go watch that episode again, because this wouldn't exist without sweet, sweet canon.

I've had this idea for a while, and I'm glad to be getting it done. I thought of it while I was in some sort of depressive state in which I wished very much to be a spaceman or a dinosaur or in some sort of kiddie fantasy land. It also very much had to do with me reading an entire book of Calvin and Hobbes comic strips for two days straight, which explains the poem I'm using in the beginning of this.

I think this also, coincidentally, kind of corresponds with the whole "underage erotica" controversy going down over at dA right now. Man, I don't even want to talk about that. The whole aging them up thing. Well, with this, I've aged them DOWN. Oh, look at me. Hurr.

My old author's note was longer. Oh, well. I'm handing this in for school, which is why I finished it in one night. I don't feel it's as good as it should be. I almost hate it. Almost. Not too fond of the ending. Oh, well.

Oh, and my fuel song for this was Live to Win by Paul Stanley. Yeah, that's the song that plays in Make Love, Not Warcraft. The epic one. Yeah, you know it.

Urgh, I'm all tired now. ENJOY.

At night my mind does not much care
If what it thinks is here or there.
It tells me stories it invents
And makes up things that don't make sense.
I don't know why it does this stuff.
The real world seems weird enough.
--Bill Watterson

Dinosaurs VS. Robots

A hundred and forty-two gazillion years ago, dinosaurs walked the earth! Dinos of all different kinds! Big ones, not-so big ones, flying ones, swimming ones... they all lived in a peaceful environment, where they ate each other only sometimes. One day, the brontosaurus was having a nice swim in the dinosaur-sized pool, and the othersaurus was playing a nice game of... um... Dinosaur-Marco Polo with him, when something horrible happened! A stupid, big, ugly robot came from the bushes and began to shoot his dumb lasers at the dinos! But, never fear...

"... The awesome, super mighty Clydosaurus is here! He makes his attack using his... super special awesome powers! Peeeeew!"

"Hey, you can't make your dinosaur have powers!"

"I can make my dinosaur have whatever I want!"

"But that's not fair!"

"Fine! I'll give him something else cool... and, the Clydosaurus, scientifically known as the Clydeus Maximus—"

"You can't give your dinosaur a scientific name either!"

"How many rules are there?"

"As many as I want, it's my house!"

"But it's my dinosaur!"

Saturday afternoon sunlight poured through the starry curtains, as Clyde and Kevin lied lazily on the carpet, surrounded by armies of toys. Clyde's side of the room wasn't completely ridden with dinosaurs, but compared to Kevin's side, he was definitely armed with a lot more traditional toys that didn't really do much. He had a Mr. Potato Head lying around somewhere there, as well as a Ken doll, a couple of beanie babies, wooden blocks, a Sheriff Woody doll, and just a bunch of other stuff that required imagination and manual action.

Kevin's claimed army of toys were more robotic. They made noises and had little blinking lights, not to mention opposable body parts for super action posing! He, of course, claimed the Buzz Lightyear, assorted Star Wars action figures (Clyde didn't even bother arguing, Kevin had dibs on Star Wars forever), comic book-based action figures, and some things that both of them were sure that they weren't even allowed to have in the room. (Namely, large-breasted statues of Japanese girls, but they were only for decoration! Honest!)

Kevin's bedroom looked to be some sort of geek kingdom in the making. There were assorted comics scattered around, some pages ripped from months or years of excited page-turning and disrespectful handling from pets past. Most of them were copies of Tiny Titans, Iron Man, X-Men and the Robo-Inferno series. It was not to say that he didn't have Transformers comics, too, because each issue that he did have, became incomplete whenever he would cut out pictures from the pages and Scotch tape them on the walls above his bed. Speaking of his bed, the bedspread was predictably Star Wars-themed; a dark-colored quilt printed with most of the cast. The underside was soft and ideal for curling up with on cold winter nights, burrito-style. But of course, cuddling up with his favorite blanket is nothing without the company of Darth Bear.

Sitting straight up, happily on Kevin's bed, was his beloved Darth Bear - a soft, well-sized, brown teddy bear, with a Darth Vader uniform, cape included, mask not included. Both Kevin and the toy manufacturers decided that a mask wouldn't be so comfortable to sleep with. Darth Bear was also missing an eye, which was suiting for its relatively old age. It had belonged to his father in the 1980's; it had already been missing its left eye, and Kevin continued to treat it with care, so that he would not lose his other eye, therefore becoming Darth Blind Bear, or something of that nature.

Kevin put his small hands on his hips. "Well, I think you're being unfair! A dino is a dino! No changies!"

Clyde narrowed his blue eyes and pouted. "It's not your incision! I mean. Decision. You can't decide what my dino can do!"

"I can, if it's in my house! My house, my rules!"

"You sound like my mom!"

"Hmph." Kevin released his hands from himself and hopped onto his bed. Clyde began to follow, and as soon as Kevin could feel his body bounce onto the bed, he yelled, "You're not allowed in my bed anymore!"

Clyde opened his mouth in horror. "Why?"

"Because you made your dinosaur too powerful." Kevin reached for Darth Bear, and sat cross-legged at the head of his bed. He set Darth Bear on his lap. He gestured Clyde to shoo by slowly flicking his wrist. "Me and Darth Bear need to talk alone for a second."

Clyde stuck out his tongue and gave him a strong, loud raspberry. "Fine!"

"Fine, that's fine!" Kevin called back, as Clyde rolled off the bed and returned to his army. Kevin shifted his eyes to the left and to the right. "You think he's being unfair, right?" He paused. "Well, I know, but I don't want to—" Another pause. "No, he's the dark side, I'm the good side." He furrowed his eyebrows down at Darth Bear, who seemed to be giving him an attitude. "If I join the dark side, I won't have anyone to play with—I—no, you—will you just listen to me for a second? I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this guy! I can't work with him!" He stopped. "Uh-huh. Yeah. ... Well, that's a pretty good idea." Kevin thought for a second. He looked at Clyde. He was having a private conversation of his own.

"What do you mean you don't know how to shoot lasers out of your eyes?" Clyde cried, shaking his Clydosaurus in his hands. "This is what I have trained you to do! You're powerful! In... un... stoppable!" He stared at the dinosaur, waiting for it to give him a reasonable answer. It was so full of excuses. "I don't care about your body problems. You're supposed to be a fighter!" He was so close to chucking the poor dinosaur into the floor, but he stopped himself. "Okay, okay, okay, we can talk through it! Don't yell at me!" They both calmed down and brought themselves to an even level. "I understand that you're a little self-precious. ... Self-conscience... self-conscious, I mean! I understand, I am too!"

Kevin scratched Darth Bear behind his ear. The seams were slightly coming apart there, so Kevin tried not to scratch too hard. "I like the way you think," he said to the bear. "I always have!" He kissed Darth Bear on the forehead and set him back up against the pillows. "You can sit here and enjoy. Okay?" Pause. "Okay. I'm glad we had this little talkie."

Kevin climbed off the bed and stood behind Clyde. Clyde jumped a little, startled from seeing Kevin's shadow approach so suddenly.

"Ah!" he shrieked and practically dropped Clydosaurus. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," Kevin said softly.

"I'm not done with my meeting," Clyde said. "Go away. Um, please."

Kevin blinked. "Oh. Okay." He turned around somewhat dramatically, and eyed Darth Bear on his bed. "I wasn't done with my meeting either, anyway." And from his spot, he pounced like a cat, quickly and swiftly, back onto his bed, where he grabbed Darth Bear in a fit of panic and stared him in the face. "He is planning something!" His grip on Darth Bear became tighter. "What am I going to do—what do you mean 'we?' This is me we're talking about here! I don't care whose father you are, if my crew is beaten by dinosaurs, I don't know who I'd run to!" Stop. "Well, I know I have you, of course... but my men!" Kevin began to look sad as Darth Bear recited him a sob story. "Don't give me that! I'll always care about you." He hugged the soft bear, and set it back down against the pillows, but this time, laid a small bit of blanket over the bear's body. "Thanks for all your help. Wish me luck!" He saluted, and met Clyde back in the center of the room, and he was not going to get pushed away this time.

"... I think we'll do good, Clydosaurus." Clyde patted the dinosaur on the head. "You know that dinosaurs are way, way, way better than robots."

Kevin didn't want to hear that.

"What are better than what?" Kevin said. Clyde turned around. He tried to make an evil laugh, but it turned out sounding like a vampire laugh - at least Kevin thought so.

"Dinosaurs are better than robots," Clyde repeated, stone serious.

Kevin put one hand on his face and pointed a shaking, accusing finger at Clyde. "Darth Bear was right! You're just jealous!"

"No!" Clyde protested, standing up. "You're the one who's jellin' that dinosaurs are more awesome and cool looking than stupid, blocky robots."

Kevin's mouth flew open. He dove to the ground to hug his main robot figure, cleverly named the Kevinbot 2.0, or the KB2 for short. "I know what you're planning! Darth Bear told me! We have to fight! Just like in episode III, Revenge of the Sith!" His angry, accusing face toned down to a more innocent one when he said, "Except, I won't, like, let you burn your face off... then you would turn into Darth Clyde." Kevin didn't really like the idea of Darth Clyde. That would be scary. They both shuddered.

"A fight, you say? To the death?" Clyde said.

"Oh! No, no, no, not death!" Kevin replied, shaking his hands. "If I win, you have to give me your mom's homemade tacos whenever you bring them for lunch!"

Clyde gasped. "No!" Kevin smiled at him. Clyde pouted and crossed his arms. What if he didn't win? What if he had to give up his tacos to the only person in the world who would let him eat his lunch in peace? What was just as valuable to Kevin as Clyde's tacos were to himself? Clyde knew. Oh, he knew. "If I win..." Clyde began, "... you have to give me your lightsaber." He grinned. "The green one."

No worries for Kevin. He was going to win. ... Maybe he was a little worried. It was his lightsaber they were talking about, how could he give up his best weapon?

Well. It didn't matter. Kevin was going to win this. "Deal," he said. He held out his hand for a shake of agreement. Clyde was momentarily confused, but soon caught on and shook Kevin's hand.

They parted to their opposite sides of the room, and Clyde stood proud and tall, with one hand on his hip and one in the air. "Choose your battleground!" he cried. "And it better be good."

"I choose... the volcano of Ishiwallaballajunobiwankenobi—"

"You can't make up a place!" Clyde yelled. "That's not fair."

"You're one to talk, Mr. My-Dinosaur-Is-God!"

"Fine! Can we battle at the Pokémon stadium?"

"No!" Kevin yelled back. "We should battle at Mount Rushmore."

"I don't even know where that is!" Clyde said with genuine anguish. He was tired of this. He was tired of arguing and tired of making incisions—no, decisions. He was so frustrated, what with his tacos in jeopardy and this battle coming up. He wanted to cry. "Can we please, please, please just—just pick a place?" He sniffled. "And be fair! I promise I won't be unfair if you be not unfair. I mean fair. Be f—fa—fair!"

Kevin wanted to cry whenever he saw Clyde cry. And Clyde cried much too many times. Kevin tried to refrain from letting his eyes burn. "Don't cry! If you cry, I'll cry! I'll be fair, okay! Let's just battle... on the moon! Is the moon okay?"

Clyde wiped his tears with his sleeve. "N-No... dinosaurs can't breathe on the moon..."

Kevin sniffled, too. "Okay, then... what about Somalia?"

"Where's Somalia?"

"I dunno."

"Is it cool?"

"I guess so. I saw it on TV once."

"Then let's battle in Somalia," Clyde agreed, wiping his face on his sleeve one last time.

Summers in Somalia were scorching hot, which was a perfect climate for the Clydosaurus. The Clydosaurus had many plants to snack on, in order to gain energy points, strength points, as well as accuracy and agility points. Clyde decided that if his Clydosaurus was a trading card, it would be very rare and powerful, only he didn't want to tell Kevin that. That would be unfair.

Summers in Somalia were scorching hot, and, to Kevin's dismay, did not do well for the Kevinbot 2.0. Kevin would, of course, not allow his Kevinbot to melt in the heat. Kevinbot had a special enamel spread on his surface that could help it withstand heat - and if that didn't work, there were some portable fans built in his insides, only he didn't want to tell Clyde that. That would be unfair.

Near the ruins of Qa'ableh (not that either of them knew where that was), the Clydosaurus, standing at over some-odd number over a hundred feet tall, stood against his opponent, the Kevinbot 2.0, at a similar height. Kevin Stoley sat in the control panel of the giant bot as Clyde sat on the back of the Clydosaurus.

"Alright, Clydosaurus," Clyde spoke. "Are you ready?" He petted the dinosaur on its scaly, rough skin. The dinosaur huffed and nodded its head. "Don't mess this up. Okay? Or I won't bring you to dinner anymore." Clydosaurus whimpered. "That's right. You don't want that, do you? That's why you have to beat the Kevinbot. He is the enemy. Plus, I wanna keep my tacos. We got a deal?" He paused, and the dinosaur nodded again. "Good." He patted his neck, and they both eyed their opponents.

Kevin was checking all settings in the cockpit. Laser beams were set. Rocket launchers were set. Giant chainsaw was set. It was buzzing violently, echoing through the empty air of the Somalian deserts.

Clyde and the Clydosaurus gulped. Clyde wanted to say that all those weapons weren't fair - but he had what he had, and that was the almighty Clydosaurus. He could win this.

Maybe.

"Are you ready?" Kevin spoke into the microphone, which made the sound of his voice elevate out of the Kevinbot's high-tech speakers. He smiled, with both his hands gripped onto the steering bars. If he won this, he'd have bragging rights, a powerful robot, he'd still have his lightsaber, and he'd be having delicious tacos for lunch almost every day of the week. He revved up the chainsaw again.

"We are ready!" Clyde cried as loud as he could. He assumed that Kevin couldn't hear him. Ready or not, the battle was about to begin.

"CHAAAAAARGE!"

The roar of the Clydosaurus boomed through the air as it charged in the Kevinbot's direction. The Kevinbot was gliding on rocket boots, emitting boisterous noises of engines, fire and steel. The dinosaur screeched as it twirled around and used its gargantuan tail to hit the robot in its center, throwing it off balance. The rocket engines died down while the entire block of steel fell to its side, taking Kevin himself out of his seat in the cockpit and slamming against the inside walls.

"Yeah!" Clyde cried in victory.

Kevin hit an emergency button (that just so conveniently appeared next to him) that transformed the robot into a completely different shape while on its side. Safely back in the cockpit, he slammed his fists onto the laser beam controls mindlessly, releasing somewhat of a laser light show from every part of the robot. The Clydosaurus dodged several hits, though the tail was an easy target, the dinosaur had gotten badly burned on certain spots.

Clyde patted the dinosaur sympathetically. "Don't worry, Clydosaurus, at least you'll have cool scars and stories to tell," he said.

The dinosaur's eyes were closed, but then they opened, glowing a sickly yellow. He bellowed angrily again—how dare someone taint his tail? He backed up slightly, to get a head start—he shot up from his hind legs and landed on the head of the robot, shattering the glass on top of the cockpit—

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Clyde! Get off! Owieeeee!"

Clyde stopped growling and looked up. "Oh. Sorry, Kevin. It was Clydosaurus' fault." He held up the toy. "He just got a little angry."

Kevin poked out his bottom lip and repositioned his robot figure. "Okay, well, don't jump on me again. You're heavy."

Clyde looked down at himself. He wasn't that heavy... was he? "Uh... okay," he said.

"Back to battling..."

Now with the glass of the cockpit shattered, it was a little difficult for Kevin to see what he was doing. He looked across the hundreds of buttons frantically, looking for a sprinkler button to clean off some of the dirt. He hit that weird looking greenish-blue button next to the turbo button... no, that was the candy dispenser. He tried the red and yellow triangular one next to that one—no, it was the sombrero button (Kevin thought he looked all right in a sombrero, but he threw it off to the side in frustration). He then tried the aqua blue button on the arm of his chair. Eureka, sprinklers!

"No!" Clyde cried. He kicked the side of the Clydosaurus, signaling to run away—if there was anything a Clydosaurus couldn't stand, it was pure water. The dinosaur screeched as it felt several small sprinkles of water on its head.

He had to attack from behind! The Clydosaurus scurried to the back of the KB2, and the dino used his tail again. This time, he dented the arm of the KB2. Finding this to be an opportunity, the dino opened his mouth, baring his dozens if not hundreds of sharp teeth, and sunk them straight into the metal.

Kevin witnessed the happening from the monitors in the cockpit. "No," he seethed, and hit a button that he didn't even know what was for. The button apparently activated the hand of the left arm to set off a bomb. The timer was ticking. Tick, tock, tick, tock.

"Oh, shabootie!" Clyde cried.

"Nice," said Kevin.

But the Clydosaurus didn't release his mouth from the arm. He could hear the loud ticking in his ears—well, where ever it heard from, because Clyde couldn't see any ears, but that wasn't important right now. Due to the rough steel and unappetizing taste of the KB2, the Clydosaurus was in pain, though he would not give up. He was set on completely tearing off the arm to get rid of the bomb. Kevin attempted shaking the arm, but it only helped for the Clydosaurus to completely rip off the arm, and catapult it hundreds of feet into the air.

But the explosion was just too much. Airborne, the bomb ticked faster and faster, tick tick ticktickticktickticktick—

"PSHOOOOOOOOOO!" Clyde and Kevin hissed at the same time.

In a puff of flames of smoke, Clydosaurus collapsed to the sandy grounds of Somalian ruins. Clyde had fallen on his back, but the dinosaur suffered a harder fall. Clyde petted his precious, beloved Clydosaurus, in its still state. "Wake up!" Clyde cried. He banged on him with his tiny fist. "Wake up, Clydosaurus! I need you!"

The smoke began to clear up. He could hear a soft buzzing in the distance—gradually, the sound of the buzzing became louder, and soon enough, it processed as a blaring chainsaw that could wake the dead. The chainsaw came closer and closer to the Clydosaurus, and like cutting onions, the chainsaw sliced right through the center of the Clydosaurus, and—

"... Waaaaaaaaa-haaaa-haaaaah!"

"Clyde, I—"

"You br—br—broke my dinosa—au—aur!" Clyde sobbed profusely, holding the two pieces in his hands. "You broke it, you broke it, you broke it, you broke i—i—it!"

"No, Clyde, I—I can fix it! Honest! I can! Just... just give me—!"

"No, you can't f—fix it! It'll never be the same! He's dead, he's done for! Now I have to give you my ta—ta—tacos!"

Kevin's hands were raised in a calming fashion. He put his hands on Clyde's shoulders to calm him down. God, did he hate to see his friend cry. He was going to start now, too, and it was all his fault. "No, no, no, Clyde!" His voice was cracking. "You don't have to give me your tacos! I... I was just kidding! Don't cry!"

"But we shaked hands on it!" Clyde yelled. He wiped his tears with his other sleeve. It wasn't the one he normally used for wiping, but the other one was already kind of wet enough.

"I know, but I didn't agree to break your dinosaur! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Kevin outstretched his arms and dove in for a hug. Clyde hugged back and secretly wiped some tears on Kevin's shoulder. Kevin didn't notice.

They hugged each other tightly for a few seconds, and let go. They looked at one another, both with red, puffy eyes, Clyde even more so. But, they'd already both dried a little bit. Kevin smiled at Clyde, and Clyde smiled back.

Clyde sniffed. "You know," he said, "whenever I do something wrong, my mommy always kisses me, to forgive me." He pointed to his cheek with his index finger. "On the cheek, though. Because she's a grown-up, and only grown-ups and kiss other grown-ups on the mouth."

"Yeah, that's 'cause they're the same years old," Kevin replied. "How old are you?"

"Six," said Clyde, holding up seven fingers.

"Me too!" Kevin piped up cheerfully.

Clyde, on his hands and knees, exclaimed, "I forgive you!" and pecked Kevin briefly on the mouth. Clyde then looked at him. Kevin stared back, both with blank expressions. "Hm. That's weird," Clyde said. "Usually there's music playing when you kiss someone."

Kevin blinked. "You're right. That is weird."

"Yeah. Maybe it only works if you're a grown-up?" Clyde inquired.

"Probably," said Kevin. He sat back on the carpet, and peered around the room, at the big mess they'd made. "We should do clean-up time. This is a mess!"

"Yeah, I know!" Clyde agreed. On the floor, lied the two remaining pieces of the Clydosaurus, scientifically known as the Clydeus Maximus. He picked up the pieces, and handed one to Kevin. "You can keep this half," he said. Kevin took it in his hands.

"Really?" he said. "You won't be mad?"

"Nope," said Clyde. "It can be like a friendship dinosaur. This half," Clyde said, pointing to the one in his hand, "is the Clydosaurus. Your half," he pointed to Kevin's, "is the Kevinosaurus. When they're together, they become the Clydokevinosaurus. Cool, right?"

"Yeah!" Kevin exclaimed. He held his half close to his heart. "I'll keep it forever and ever and ever and ever."

"And ever and ever?"

"And ever and ever and ever!"

Clyde hugged him again, and he hugged him so very tightly, that he almost forgot that he had to help Kevin clean up this whole mess they made. He almost considered not helping Kevin at all—but, he knew that they were friends.

And that wouldn't be fair.