. . . Frankenstein Junior. A giant robot whose physiognomy recalls the famous homicidal creature from Ms. Shelley’s fantastic tale. I’m guessing that Dr. Conroy built him for some reason – perhaps to scare the living shit out of people who are constantly SCREWING HIM OVER, or perhaps to annoy the neighbors, or just give his kid a friend. Kids love Frankenstein, because they are often under the misapprehension that he would like them back, and the two of them could stagger around the countryside together saying RRRRR. Truth is, Frankenstein would look at the young boy, have a glimmer of recognition of the innocence he would forever be denied, and then he’d snap the little bastard in two and throw him down a well. If there was a well handy. Otherwise, just put him over there. Like it matters. RRRRRrrrr.

What’s wrong with Frankenstein Jr., in terms of robotics? Let’s look at the cover.

He wears a cape. Frankenstein Sr. did not wear a cape. For that matter, why do any of them wear a cape? What’s the point? It’s either going to snag and rip, or it’s going to be made of super-strong material that doesn’t rip – and so you caught on spires and other crap day after day after day. I mean, even after a month Superman would have said “this isn’t working” and folded it up nicely. Yes, capes lend a certain panache. But when you are already capable of flight, you have panache to spare. That’s what really impresses people. Flying. Not the cape.

He has ripped sleeves, as though he outgrew his garments . . .like the Hulk. But he is a robot. He was built to conform to a specific design. Unless the clothes were too small to begin with, of course. But you’d like to think they’d get new clothes. Otherwise you have a giant flying monster with his pants split up the butt.

Worst of all: he has stitches.

Anyway, Franky’s bummed because someone ransacked the lab. The professor immediately suspects his nemesis, Dr. Spyklops. Unfortunately, you cannot call the police and tell them to arrest someone simply because he is your nemesis; judges are famously loathe to issue a warrant on that basis. So the trio decides to take the law into their own hands. Two of which are sewn to Frankie Jr.'s thick, metal wrists.