Author's Note: Well, hell, this is gonna be a long author's note. Hope you don't mind. You can skip it. If you want.
So, you're probably here for one main reason - and if you're not here for that reason, good for you. Some of you are here because this was on the front page, or I'm on your author alerts and this story came up. But, most of you are probably here because of the accompanying art piece that goes with this fic, as drawn by zeromotion. However, as this is being written, the art is not posted yet. The link will be on my profile when it is, so don't get confused if it isn't there. This fic was written mostly because of zeromotion, because of her poll asking who we might like to pair Kevin Stoley up with. Even before the poll, Imajinacion Reinbou and I discussed pairing him up with Clyde. So, when I brought that to zero's attention, we had this idea to do - oh, my god - a fic/art collab? Hot damn. It was originally going to be, erm, a one-shot. Yeah. I mean, why would we need so many chapters for an obscure pairing? It's just Kevin and Clyde, it doesn't need to be, like, huge. Kevin's such a minor character, and with Clyde? How much could one possibly do with these two? All we need is a simple one thousand-word one-shot, right? HAHAHAHA NO. I got so carried away with this shit, it's not even funny. I deserve a medal or something, because this story is fifteen chapters. I'm not even joking. Fifteen chapters, but the chapters aren't... that long. But, there is not a chapter less than 1,088 words. So that's at least fifteen thousand words, right? HAHAHAHA NO. Again. The story, in its entirety, is 28,094 words, excluding the epilogue, which isn't done yet.

I started writing this around... January 4th-6th. I finished it on March 1st. I've never finished anything that fast. I mean, a full story. A chapter, maybe, but not a full story. In fact, I've never finished a story in that time. What the hell is it with this pairing that made me write so freakin' much?

Well, first of all, I really wanted to define Kevin as a character - practically invent him, per se. I wanted to take his Star Wars obsession, Chinese heritage, his being prone to motion sickness and take it to a whole new level. I may or may not have taken it too far. Despite that this story is in Clyde's point of view, I really hoped I could create a clear image of who Kevin Stoley really, really is.
Another thing - I know I mentioned earlier that this thing was fifteen chapters, and none of them were less than 1,088 words. Well, yeah, since this was supposed to be a one-shot, the storytelling is ongoing. Meaning, it wasn't supposed to be broken up into little pieces like this. So, some chapters are going to stop mid-sentence. It'll end abruptly, kind of like, "what the hell, that's it?" In the case that this happens, I may upload two chapters at a time. So, yeah.

And, congratulations if you've read this far, because I need to take care of some acknowledgements. You don't have to read this, seriously, you can skip ahead right now, but I think it's proper that I thank the people who deserve thanks for making this story possible, because seriously? This has got to be the story with the most involvement from people in my outside life. Well, first of all, thanks goes to zeromotion for collaborating ideas with me and making awesome art for this story. Then, I need to thank Imajinacion Reinbou for just being there for me and discussing this pairing with me the night Fatbeard aired. Thanks to Zarisla on deviantART for helping me out with like a million ideas, and pushing me to get this finished. Same thanks goes to Deejersthecat on deviantART. As far as real life goes, I really need to thank (even though they won't see this) my friend Lee for being awesome and sort of being my Kevin, as well as my friend Raymond for being another Kevin in my life, and helping me with some Chinese stuff. Finally, I wanna thank my freaking dad for being an amazing geek, being incredibly quotable as far as Kevin's dialogue goes, sitting down and watching a Syfy special with me on how to create your own light saber, and being part of the reason for my, like, existence. So, a round of applause for those people. :)

Anyway, enough chitter-chatter. With that long of an author's note, this story better be damned good. And I hope it is. I hope you enjoy The Adventures of Taco-Man and the Robo-Inferno. :D

I guess I'm lonely, whatever that means,
I get this feeling, like, probably in my heart
that most of the time, we should never be apart.

I would give up my sneakers and my polo shirts
to be your sweetheart. I am sorta nice,
You could do better, but I'll probably suffice.

--White Bread Boyfriend by Lemon Demon

I. Shazam!

If that Taco Bell crunchwrap supreme were any tastier, I think my brains might have exploded. It tastes just like a taco, but it's not a taco, it's, like, this thing where they put all the ingredients of a taco and compress it into a little Mexican hexagon. It's thick. It's juicy. It's geometrical. It's completely unauthentic Mexican food but filled with Mexican-like wonders. And it's...

All over my jacket.


It's a clump of beef, but it can look like practically anything when it's smeared into red fabric. I'd have eaten it, but I didn't remember the last time I actually washed that jacket. Last Tuesday, maybe, back when I was running through those bushes to get away from that dude that was chasing me and Craig in a pick-up truck because he saw Craig pissing on his lawn, and we ended up running through poison ivy or just some other kind of plant that caused crazy itching for like a jillion days.

Yeah, I think that's when I last washed it.

Suspicious of the meat's condition, I flicked it off my jacket. I hoped the stain wasn't noticeable, but, this is what people expect from me, anyway. There should be, like, a rule that says not to eat Taco Bell while walking to the comic book store, or walking anywhere, for that matter. It's hazardous to the condition of the food - should it be dropped or something, the perfection of it would surely be tainted! I praise the chefs of Taco Bell. You need to be a real artist to get something so perfect. I mean, like, unf, oh, my God.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself. This isn't about my Taco Bell crunchwrap supreme (even though it really should be, because, I mean, seriously, have you seen those things?) This is about -

What was this about?

I stopped to think. Where was I going? I took another chunk off my crunchwrap supreme, deep, deep in thought. First, I walked out of Taco Bell, then I took a bus here... and then I got meat on my jacket... and now here I am... and then... oh, yeah.

Comic book store. That was my destination. Needed to get the new issue of Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy. I swear, man, I live off that comic. I mean, other than Playboy (but that's not really a comic to begin with, so, who am I kidding?). So, yeah, here I was, walking into the comic book store. It's tucked below someone's house. That sounds really weird. But it's kind of, like, this basement-type thing. You walk down some stairs made of brick and there's this tiny little store hidden under some two-family house, and all you see is a bunch of anime posters and a neon sign of Superman's logo. It's kind of a cute place, actually. Nice selection. It smells like paper and ink.

So, I walked in, but then I ended up not really getting much past the welcome mat (with the 'L' scratched off for whatever reason, so it just says "we come") because I was startled by this voice.

"You can't bring food in here."

I looked up. Perhaps the voice came from the ceiling. Nah, that wasn't it - I looked to my right and saw a head, but not, like, a whole head. It was just this ruffle of black hair sitting at the cashier desk or whatever it's called. The voice's face was hidden behind a laptop. A Macbook, to be exact... like, one of those big Macbook Pros with, like, a super HD screen or something. The guy was behind the laptop tapping away on something, and some faint music played from the speakers.

It sounded like Star Wars.

So, I'm just standing there, frozen in mid-chew, with a half-eaten crunchwrap supreme in my hand and a cup of Pepsi in the other.

"What?" I asked, as if the statement didn't process correctly the first time. I tried not to open my mouth too much, because I was pretty sure that if I had, more beef would have flown beyond my mouth.

"You can't bring food in here," the guy said again, seeming even more pestered than the first time he had to say it. "Finish it outside, please? Thanks."

I was like, "Oh, yeah, sure. Sorry about that."

Now, I was back where I started. Standing outside of the comic book store with a deliciously geometrical crunchwrap supreme in my hand and a cup of Pepsi in the other. Now, I couldn't wait to get my hands on that Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy issue, because, damn, in the last issue, Taco-Man was stuck in this time capsule floating through space, right? And then Burrito-Boy was in the present, but in captivity of their arch-nemesis, the Tofu Tyrant. While poor Burrito-Boy was being tortured with assorted health foods by Tofu Tyrant's minions, the Baked Beans, Taco-Man was stuck in this mental state in which he could speak with all the ingredients of a taco, and each ingredient revealed a secret from his past life! His past life, and how he got his powers - he had been working at a Mexican restaurant, under his first and only identity at the time, Julio Espinosa. He was the best cook there, and everyone loved him. The restaurant was even number one on a food critics list in a magazine. Then, an unknown nemesis destroyed the restaurant - everyone evacuated, but Taco-Man was stuck in the kitchen, and the laser beam of the unknown nemesis had got him. He'd been trapped under layers of taco ingredients, and the energy from the laser beam gave him his epic powers - meat vision, super strength, combat skills, and even better cooking skills! The beef was about to tell him who was the one who shot him with the laser beam, also, the cheese told him that the food critics list was a fake, and it turns out that his restaurant wasn't actually number one, and it just ended on a cliffhanger!

I needed that issue. If I didn't get it, my head would explode - no. My head would implode, put itself back together, implode again, and then my entire body would implode, and then it would be like, "Oh, Clyde died? How?" And then it would be all, "Oh, he never got the next issue of Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy, so he imploded twice." And that would be the end of Clyde Donovan.

So, to avoid any spontaneous self-combustion, I stuffed the last of that beautiful crunchwrap supreme into my mouth and washed it down with one last swig of Pepsi. I threw the wrapper and cup into a garbage can conveniently located by the entrance of the store.

And, now, on with the shopping. When I entered again, the guy was still clicking or typing something behind that laptop, with some Star Wars-y music playing. I walked past him and browsed the shelves - organized alphabetically by title, under their category of publishing company. At least that's what I think it was organized by. I usually just memorized where the comic I needed was located, and I always knew that Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy were kind of in between Archie comics and some other manga thingies, but when I arrived at that location, I was disappointed to see that Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy weren't even there.


The guy behind the counter heard my clueless "um," and took it as an invitation to respond to me. I was the only one in the store, after all (I hate it when that happens), so, maybe he just needed someone to talk to.

"Do you need help finding anything?" he asked.

I kept my eyes on the shelf in front of me. Maybe if I stared at it long enough, the issue would materialize out of nowhere.

"No," I said. "Just looking."

"Okay," he was like, "just ask me if you need anything."

Typical comic book store employee dialogue. I didn't need to respond. I proceeded to stand there, staring at the shelf. I think I really may have been under the belief that the issue would materialize right then and there.

I must have been standing there for quite some time. I could have at least pretended like I was texting someone to make it seem like I wasn't such a lonely, lifeless person, but no. Just stand there and look like a fat idiot with no reason or motive, Clyde.

"Seriously," the guy spoke louder, "do you need help?"

Well, I thought he was speaking louder for just a moment, but then I realized he was speaking at normal volume - because he had just somehow made his way from the counter to my personal space bubble in the matter of a millisecond.

First, my response was, "Woah, when did you get there?" But then, just dangling off the last word, I began another response at the sight of his face, "Woah, you're Kevin."

Kevin chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "I get that a lot."

Shazam! Guest appearance by Kevin Stoley! The crowd goes wild! Yeeeeeeah - okay, yeah, no. I, for one, was not going wild. I was not going anything, really. It was just... just. Oh, hey, yeah, Kevin works here.

"Didn't know ya worked here," I said to him.

"Mhm," he made a noise, his eyes wandering to the shelves of figurines across the aisle. They were small, cheap figurines, not worthy enough to be locked behind a glass or anything. He turned around to those shelves and began fiddling with a few Star Wars ones, rearranging them into sorts of action poses. "My dad owns the place, along with his buddy. They're outta town now, 'cause they've got a convention to attend on the East coast. My dad asked me to take care of it while he was gone."

A likely story, Kevin, a likely story.

I hate to say this. I hate using the word, and I tried to avoid situations like this (I am Mr. Popular, after all, right? Why else would I spend my perfect Saturday shopping for comics alone?), but... this is awkward. I tried not to say it out loud, but I ended up blurting it anyway.

"This is awkward."

Kevin's figurine-fiddling paused. "It wasn't awkward until you said it was," he claimed, without turning around. "I think the only awkward thing was you standing in the aisle, doing nothing for like three minutes."

"Oh, really?" I throw back at him. "I think - I think - I think the only awkward thing was you... you, uh, telling me I can't eat in here."

He chuckled again, now turning around. His hand hit the action scene he'd just created, knocking three or four figures onto the rough carpet. "Shit," he muttered, picking them up and rearranging them again. When he finished doing that, he decided to finally give me his comeback.

"Yeah," he said. He wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving dark streaks on his thighs. He must have been sweating a lot. "That's because you can't. Especially with the way you eat. You have sauce around your mouth."

My eyebrows rose. "I do?"

"Yeah, it looks like you have a second pair of lips," he said, stepping closer. "... or that you've been making out with a cactus. Right there." He pointed to a spot on the corner of my mouth. Well, that's what it seemed like, I really couldn't see where he was pointing, so I just licked all around my mouth.

"Is it gone?" I asked.

He shook is head. "Right there." He pointed to the spot again. I licked all around, then wiped it with my sleeve.

"How about now?"

"Still there."

"You serious?" I rubbed on my lips really hard - now they were burning against my sleeve. There was no way the sauce couldn't have been gone already. "Now?"

Kevin squinted his eyes. His eyes were... distinct (whatever that means). They were slanted, but he didn't look entirely Chinese - I knew he was only half-Chinese, and with the last name 'Stoley,' he must have taken after his dad more. Well, anyway, he was squinting them. He said, "Yeah, it's gone. Kinda."


"Dude, don't worry about it. Now, are you sure you don't need my help? Because I know this place in and out, and if you don't want my help, that's just fine."

I crossed my arms across my chest. "No, I don't need your help. Like I said, I'm just looking."

"You were looking at the same shelf for quite some time."

"I know. I'm going to, uh, continue looking now. Yeah."