Don’s mother started to bring men home. As if she wasn’t unpleasant enough on her own. People who slurred, were loud, and with every motion seemed to lay claim to something that they would in case of any doubt take with aggression. The men staggered into the furniture, pinched the children’s cheeks, or simply ignored them and shoved their mother toward her bed with glassy eyes. Don always worried about her mother because she didn’t know what was going on inside the room, in front of which she sat with a kitchen knife so she could intervene in case of emergency. One of these men became her mother’s steady boyfriend, which was discernible by the fact that he came over more often. He was an absurdly big white guy with strange rust-colored hair and a little hump where his neck met his back.

The man moved into the apartment after a few days with two plastic bags. With a serious look on his face, he put out books and writing materials on the kitchen table, as he was doing a distance learning course in theology. He prayed. Nonstop. Before every piece of bread with margarine, after every bowel movement. Mornings when he emerged from the bedroom. He kneeled in front of the sink and thanked god for this and that. “Walter could serve as a role model for you,” said Don’s mother, looking lovingly at the dirty bastard. “Now we have a man in the house again who will look after us,” she said. Don’s brother withdrew and pounded his fist into his bed. Even though he saw his father only every few months, he looked up to him greatly.

As if the universe wanted to have some fun with the new family arrangement, Don’s mother found a job at a cafeteria in Manchester. She left home every morning at seven. And so the children stayed with the man who was named Walter and who started his day with prayers. He kneeled in front of the kitchenette and spoke to god. One day Don was watching Walter as he prayed and had to quietly giggle. The burst of laughter just came out—at the sight of this strange man in a social housing unit talking to his master. Walter turned, saw Don, and sprang toward her. He punched her in the face. “You laughing at me? You don’t laugh at me!” he screamed, flying into a rage.

WALTER

INTELLIGENCE: average

POTENTIAL FOR AGGRESSION: high

ETHNICITY: white

HOBBIES: masturbating to photos of cross-dressing Nazis

CREDITWORTHINESS: not available

USABILITY: uhh

Was just one of millions.