Father.

Brick hated many things.

He hated losing.

He hated being wrong.

He hated feeling like he was out of control.

He hated the Powerpuff Girls with a burning passion.

In all honesty, he probably hated that word more.

Father?

What did it mean anyway? On the internet it was defined as "A man in relation to his natural child or children." What if you weren't born naturally? What if your first father birthed you from a sewage system and your second father brought you back from the dead? Did that still make them your father?

Father…

Brick stood eerily still as stared at the large flat screen through the window of an electronics store. There was a commercial on. It was one of those health commercials egging kids to eat right and play outside more often. Brick had grown accustomed to seeing the Powerpuff Girls star in such advertisement deals like these.

They were the poster children of anything good.

Instead of the girls this time, it was the Professor. He wore a huge smile and his hair was brushed back into perfect strands.

" As the dad of the Powerpuff Gir-"

Brick flew off in a huff into the sky, his red light fading behind him. Brick soon landed in his shitty apartment complex and stopped right before his door. Inside he could hear loud yelling and the TV blaring. Sighing he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

Unfolding it, he stared it and with one last grimace he threw it to the ground.

Father and Son Camping Trip.

Father!

Brick hated that word. Brick didn't want a father.

He wanted a dad.