Storytime!

Andrew was . . . well, Andrew was a monster.

Now, when I say that, I don't mean that Andrew was "monstrous." He did not commit monstrous acts. He did not hurt people. I don't mean it that way.

No, when I say that Andrew was a monster, I mean that he was nine feet tall, green, had rows of horns growing down his back, and had enormous dinosaur-like claws for hands and feet.

I guess you'd say that I mean "monster" in the "literal" sense.

I'm explaining this up front for a reason, because otherwise you'd go through this story thinking that he was a regular human being. There are a couple of things that might make you get that impression:

1. Andrew lived across the hall from me. Like in an apartment. An apartment just like mine. Nine foot tall green guy, getting up everyday and hitting that light switch with his terrifying claw.

2. No one but me ever seemed to notice that Andrew was a monster. I mean he knew of course. It's hard to miss the fact that the whole world is designed around creatures who cannot crush tree trunks like they were aluminum cans and do not eternally smoulder. I don't know what the rest of the world's problem was. When I see an enormous creature down the street, with glowing eyes and breathing that sounds like thunderclaps, I don't wonder if he played college football. I wonder where I'm going to hide.

3. As a direct result of #2, Andrew had a job and did many things that a normal person would do. He simply did them with the added challenge of being a natural abomination.