it moves

This should not be happening. This was ridiculous. This was insane. I seethed. I raged. I could feel my fingernails digging deep creases into the palms of my hand as my fists clenched and unclenched at my sides. His face warm and convivial, hands folded earnestly, my monster sat across the table from me. Not that anyone called him that anymore.

Of all the indignities, that was the worst. I had such high hopes. They would call it Schrader's Monster! And then just a Schrader until some pedant would remind them that that was just the name of professor who made him, not the monster itself, blah blah blah. But now... It was unfathomable what they called him. It was unbearable. It was intolerable. It was oppressive. They called him Darrin.

And now he sat before me and tried to smile sympathetically. It was a gruesome sight - I'd cobbled together his misshapen jaw from an unmatching top and bottom. The resulting underbite should have been a prominent characterization in legends, myths, and Sci-Fi channel movies for years to come. Instead he was kind of meekly self-conscious about it. He steepled his fingers and cleared his throat.

"Father." It was cute at first, and I had let it slide. Now it made me mad. Well, angry. You know what I mean. Anyway. He continued, "I've been meaning to have this conversation with you. I think it'd be a lot more conducive to my development as an individual if I moved out of the castle."

I was livid. I boiled. I erupted. "This is your home! This is where you were made! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a castle in New Jersey? How will I look, here in my castle, without a monster or anything!"

"Dad!" He looked hurt. It was pathetic. It was feeble. It was wretched. "I've requested many times that you not call me that anymore. It's detrimental to my construction of a healthy self-image!"

This is how he talks to me! Whatever happened to "fire bad!"? I wasn't going to stand for it. "This is not up for discussion, Darrin." I spat as much venom as I could into the name. "Here is where you shall stay, and you are not going to read any more of those absurd books! And we are going to drive this filthy hamlet into a pitchfork-and-torches hysteria whether you like it or not!"

He sighed and rose from his chair, his grotesque, hairless head nearly touching the ceiling. "Alright. I tried. If you'd noticed I'd been packing my stuff for the last two days, you would have realized that I hadn't asked to have a conversation with you today because I sought your permission." He turned and walked out, closing the heavy palisade behind him as he left.

I was crestfallen. I was dejected. I was crushed. He'd pay for this. They'd all pay!