The time has come that I say something about myself. My real name is definitely irrelevant. I'm simply referred to as... Happy.
I was born and raised on planet Los Angeles. I've had a pleasant childhood, was a good kid and all, never making any trouble,. Respecting my parents, respecting the elders blah, blah. The most of my youth I've spent learning, teaching teaching the ways of becoming a regular, modeled citizen.
I studied psychology and graduated among the top of my class. I remember... I met my wife there, she was beautiful. I can still remember her smile, her beautiful lips and her... smell. Ah, that woman driven me crazy.
Later I've opened a private practice working as a psychologist. That's not an easy job, I'm telling you. All those sick people. Sick in their f***ing head. Even then I use to feel sick about it. So being that a distressful occupation, I needed some relaxation. To release some of my negative energy. Thus I started taking shooting lessons, flying lessons as well. It kept me balanced. Secured. Calm in my head. At least before...
One day I came home earlier from hard days' work. I entered the apartment. Heard noises coming from a bedroom. A very... unpleasant noises. I knew what was going on. I was really calm. Don't know why. Went upstairs. The doors weren't closed. I peaked. There they were. My wife and some guy f***ing her brains out. She enjoyed it. She really did. It was obvious.
I exited the apartment and went to local hardware store. Bought a chain-saw for 59,99 credits. Went back to apartment and stormed into bedroom. They were already done, relaxing on my very own bed that I bought. I wish that I've taken a picture of their faces once I turned on my loving chain-saw. They started screaming right that moment.
First I knocked off that bitch with chain-saw's handle telling her that she should watch. And she did, screaming. Begging. While I was sawing off her lover's legs and torso. I wanted to keep him alive as much as possible. He was screaming and probably the whole world heard it. I kept him alive, at least for the time before I came to do her. It was simple. Her saw simply passed through her head entering her mouth first. She stopped screaming. He stopped moaning and was already dead, swimming in his own blood.
And after that... Silence for a moment. I lit up a lover's-boy cigarette. Puffed it away before the police came. No remorse. Guilty? Hell no. I felt good. I felt alive. I felt like I was on the top of the world. At least for a moment.
They couldn't lock me up into prison. They said that I've lost touch with reality so they sent me to Arkham Asylum. I guess I did kinda lost touch with reality, humanity. All of it. I couldn't give less f**k about everything anymore. After I killed those lover-fools, the whole thrill passed away. I was nothing. Sensed nothing. The days passed. The years passed.
One day I heard a riot taking place. People shouting, screaming. Real chaos. Something was going on. Fifteen minutes later my cell-door opened. And there he was standing in front of me. A man, with carved-up face, dressed in a madhouse white suit all covered in blood, holding a small knife. I remember seeing him in Arkham but he was always quiet. Now he was laughing. A lot.
At first I thought he came there to kill me. He came with his knife to my face saying:
"Why are you so f***ing sad? Hahahaha! What do you say we change all that?"
We escaped and the rest is history. Since then I never felt sad any longer. I never felt anger nor grief. Since then... all I'm doing is keep on smiling.