Once upon a time, there was a kid.
This kid was of the more difficult, twisted kind. Experts called this kid's condition "Assburgers". It's the illness du jour, it's the thing to have, it's a big huge drawer where there is room for anything and everyone.
There are a lot of kids that might or might not have "Assburgers". Most of them are, sadly, quite antisocial and a royal pain in the butt.
This one kid was loved by his mother, who took him down to the range to shoot things. She also decided to home-school him, to better get a grip on society not being compatible with her offspring, and maybe just a tiny little bit herself. So, instead of integrating the odd one out into society, she totally removed him from it... and it from him.
How to create an alien, a monster... something different.
One day, he shot her in her face with her own rifle, not once, not twice, not thrice, but four times. She was still wearing her pajamas.
Assburger kid went on a killing spree, killing many. His victims were mostly little kids aged six or seven, and most of the adults he shot dead were believed to have been in some sort of altercation with him the day before.
One six-year old kid got shot eleven times.
But Assburgers is not a mental illness, they say. Autists are not violent. There is no causal or any other link to any facts whatsoever. It was because of dem nasty games. Bun dem, bun dem nasty games.
We just wiped out a small army on some random tropical island. And we had a splendid christmas, even though death is hand-picking loved ones and pets at his own leisure. Life is short, and it's made up mostly of facts, and a little sprinkle of dreams. When your kid shoots my kid in the face with one of your guns, we have something to discuss. But you don't - ever - tell me what to watch, what to read, what to play or what to think.
Asperges means Asparagus in French. Maybe Assburger kids are a limited edition run of the Cabbage Patch kids?