You crouch down and whisper to your aching DinoBudz™.

“I’ll create a distraction,” you tell them. “Sneak out of here and call Dr. Patters™, our adult human woman friend. I need to stop Lord Cramulock™… at any cost.”

“Thank… friend… good…” mutters T-Wrecks™, who got way stupider after he transformed into a DinoSword™.

You turn to face Lord Cramulock™ and tap your electronic DinoControl™ earpiece three times. The lights go out. Fog fills the room. A synthesized beat blasts from hidden speakers and a spotlight hits you in front of a microphone. You’re wearing a sick black leather jacket and an American flag bandana.

“I’ve got the power inside me,” you sing, miming as if your DinoSword™ was a guitar. “I’ve got the power to make a difference!”

Your four minute and eleven second power ballad moves Lord Cramulock™ to tears. The BarfBorgs™ hold up lighters. As you take your third deep bow, Lord Cramulock™ curb stomps you with his poisonous tentacle. He takes your DinoSword™, and you transform back into a normal, bleeding American teenager. But your friends all escaped.

“Find the others,” he shrieks, wiping a tear from his face. “I must collect all the DinoSwords™! I need to own them all, including their limited edition variants!”

As you die, you imagine innocent children watching your surprise death in an animated movie adaptation of your life and being traumatized by this scene for the rest of their lives. That’ll be so cool.


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