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Jim grew up fast, and had that emotional plucked chicken childhood that one has when one's father's a bankrobber. His mother tried the best she could to teach him wrong from worse, but when your old man's out knocking geeks outa their life investments, ethics is something of a cruel sacrificial lamb's ass at best, and at the very least, sits at the talismanic throne of some still-beating heart. In the days following Jim's inevitable, inexorable rejection of his childhood, he became quite listless and did weird shit like memorizing War and Peace. He'd quarrel with his teachers and accuse them of brushing his teeth. One day, he walked right up to his neighbor's door, old Mr. Washburn, the town drunk. It was a moonlit night, and Jim knew Washburn always left his door open, but he locked the door and broke the door window and busted in for the hell of it. He thought, in his morally addled way, that his father'd be proud of him. Washburn had a bunch of old family photos in his sitting room and Jimmy smashed these too. You see, dear reader, he, Jim, just didn't really give a fuck. He was what they would call now a sociopath. The had a different word for it then: a fucking asshole. Later, when Jimmy was in prison (big fucking surprise, huh?), he befriended this serial killer, Wade Mullaway, who dismembered his victims and then ate them. Coincidentally, he had once worked as Washburn's private chef. He told Jim this story about how once he made a nose crepe, and Washburn, who was nearly blind, near ate the whole damn thing..