“I’ll give you my DinoSword™,” you tell Lord Cramulock™, gritting your sharp teeth in pain. “But I need something in return.”

“You want me to spare the lives of these pathetic dino dummies?” he shriek-replies.

“No. I want $300. Cash.”

“Really? $300 for an ancient magical artifact you have battled me over countless times?”

“I’m getting out of the hero game,” you explain. “I just want to go back to being a calzone-eating teen, and $300 will buy me a lot of calzones. About 40, if my head math is right.”

Lord Cramulock™ accepts your terms. He doesn’t have cash, but he writes you a check, instructing you to wait to cash it until next Friday. You give him your DinoSword™ and transform back into an injured American teen.

You limp away with your money, thinking about delicious calzones, and pay no mind to the screams of your DinoBudz™ behind you. After all, in just a few months, you’ll meet new friends in regular human college!

THE END