**AITA? I (30M) wrongly called my dad a serial killer the other day.**

Upon returning home from a lengthy and rather intense DND session, I stumbled upon my father (42M) holding a knife above Mrs. Frengly’s (72F) head, of who was taped to the kitchen table. I immediately yelled serial killer and pointed at him with pocket knife. He got immediately upset and said that he was practicing a scene for his acting troupe’s play. Mrs. Frengly shook her head as if that was not the case, but my dad reassured me by telling me she’s a method actor. I asked why he practices with each member separately and he snapped at me and told me go upstairs. He told me to take some sleeping pills and blast music, he needs alone time to practice. Mrs. Frengley was screaming, muffled by her tape. I told her she really is good at this acting thing before running upstairs and as a result she shed a tear, so I knew she appreciated my compliment.

As I reached the top stair, I was taken off guard by a terrible rotting smell coming from the attic. I yelled that it stinks and he screamed to not go up there, he’s preparing his famous jerky for the upcoming county fair. I got in bed and shamed myself for being such a quick-to-judge person. 10 self lashings and I was repented. I looked at the garden my dad was building, with each week a new plant seemingly planted. His car collection was growing too, I was proud he was branching out, he must have be doing well as a Private Person Investigator. I watched as he dug the next plot for where the next plant was to grow. I opened my window and screamed go dad! He flinched and said its just manure dont look go watch distracting things. I listened and came down for dinner later that night.

I went downstairs for dinner, and smelled delicious food. He was cleaning all of his knives, as I ate the orange chicken he cooked while I was distracted. It tasted just like Panda Express, I was impressed. Where’s Mrs. Fernley? I asked. Why didn’t she stay for dinner? She quit she moved to Alaska he said as he admired the sharpness of his kitchen utensils. Why didn’t she say goodbye? I asked sad. I liked her. Uh she moved for work he said as he lined his knives up in size order meticulously. Wow, I thought she was retired? Poor budgeting and financials, she was addicted to gambling, he said. I told him I would help him finish the new garden plot tomorrow and he quickly said no you leave the house go have fun all day and come home late. He wanted me to enjoy my time with my buddies. I guess that means marvel trivia night at the town’s comic store. I finally went to bed, smiling at my dads dedication to not only his craft/hobbies but also by his dedication to maintain and building a garden. I considered it a healthier hobby than the chemical mixing he would do prior to this hobby. It ruined our shower and made it very acidic, take sink baths he would tell me. He referred to as research and that he was onto something but don’t ask specifics.

I screamed I love you dad, sorry you’re not a killer, just a killer-dad. He said he doesn’t appreciate my nosy snooping and started sniffing what looked like a necklace? I didn’t care, I am done judging. I hugged him but got all this red bloody kind of stuff on me. He said ah fuck what a cheap shirt its leaking and chucked it at the fire place and ran to shower. As he opened his room I heard what I thought was Mrs. Fernley but he quickly reassured me it was his new screaming sound effects he got for Halloween which was coming up in 4 months. Prepare he claimed. I was thinking it must always be Halloween season for him with the year round noises, but did not want to be the jackass son once again so I let the joke I had lined up go. I went to bed and fell asleep staring at my moms car she left behind in our yard, thinking how lucky I am to have such a great dad.