From the Notes of Doctor Malcolm Long:
[Fourth Entry – Personal Note #2]
Walter Kovacs is a mystery wrapped in an enigma that's tied up in a bow of intrigue. A bow of mystery and obscurity. A bow of profound ugliness that flips you off when your turn your back on it. Speaking of which, it's a shame that I have to keep an eye on him for so long, but he just makes so many obscene gestures when I turn my attention. Does it annoy me? Maybe. Does it hurt my feelings? Let's just say that I've discovered it's very hard to write on paper that's been stained with my tears.
This man has just been so mistreated in his lifetime—so misguided. According to his records, his mother made it a point to regularly remind a young Walter that his conception had occurred during an encounter with a Central Park toilet seat. Even going so far as to take the boy to the restroom and to said toilet, justifying the whole thing as "visitation rights" to Walter.
Of course this was all a lie. Walter's mother was merely using the story as a means to create some kind of inanimate babysitter while she took to the streets, but the boy believed this story for many, many…too many years. Witnesses would often find Walter playing cards with the toilet or engaging in a game of hide and seek. In my expert opinion, this toilet, during its term as Walter's father, was probably the best role model the boy would have for a very long time.
I kid you not.
When Walter was ten years old, he attacked an older bully on a street corner. The bully in question was partially blinded in one eye with a lighted cigarette—then totally blinded in the other eye twenty-seven years later after watching the Star Wars Holiday Special. Unrelated, but worth mentioning.
After the run-in with the bully, Walter's case was investigated by the NYPD with all evidence pointing to the fact that his mother was, in fact, a slu...I mean...streetwalker. Given his history of abuse, he was admitted to the Lillian Charlton Home for Problem Children in New Jersey for treatment. Although, getting beneficial treatment in New Jersey might as well be an oxymoron.
Months of treatment seemed to pay off. Walter showed promise and was described as a very "bright" child. He also displayed a penchant for the English language and demonstrated advanced persuasion abilities. One of his doctors committed suicide after sitting through a session with him. The staff at the facility weren't sure if this incident should count as a bad mark or a sign of improvement. They went with the latter.
I kid you not.
In 1956, Walter was informed of his mother's rather brutal death. When the staff couldn't illicit a response, they brought out flow charts, pie charts, laser pointers, and pulled the head off a Barbie doll to reenact what had happened. Walter simply responded with one word: "Good."
They also marked this down as a sign of improvement.
There are also several other mentions in his file of his compulsive need to kick down doors, but the staff chalked this up to the boy's incessant need to express himself. He has also displayed an addictive personality towards sugar cubes which, in the face of everything else in his file, scares the living sh** out of me. Don't ask me why. And certainly don't ask me why I censored myself in my own notes.
…Ah, my wife has just entered the room. She sidles up to me and rubs my shoulders. I purr like a walrus. She has that look in her eyes. I'm fairly certain I know where this is going.
I'm gonna need to start a new page for this one…
