Well, you died before you could even be born, in the womb, you ever wondered where babies that weren't born yet that died go because they didn't even get the chance to 'repent'? Well, you found out... you went to fuckin' Hell, life isn't the most fair, you know that, now. You were just a baby, like... a not-so fully-developed one, AKA mentally-challenged, but luckily for you, Hell seems to have... adoption-centers for some reason, guess Hell isn't the worst, and even luckier for you, you were seen by a hellborn, usually the more kind breed of demons, they picked you up, and brought you to the adoption center, where they dropped you off at the age of three.

Now you're a six-year-old, living in the, now-not-so-sour-to-each-other, surprisingly-loving hands of Martha and Mayberry after they decided they wanted to adopt a kid to pick up their new relationship. Mayberry's the more, sweet, loving mother since she has experience with kids due to her previous job as a teacher, and Martha's the more fun mother... AKA she supplied you with a 12-gauge when you were four to protect yourself.

Now, you're simply watching cartoons with Martha in their apartment, while Mayberry is taking a shower. But it's all interrupted by a knock on the door...

Martha: "Guess I'll go see who it is."

And as she says, she does, and you follow her, because as a kid, pretty much all you know as of now is to follow your parents ... and it's Blitzo, with a basket of... cheese and a few bottles of champagne.

Blitzo: "Sorry about murdering you."

How him of an apology, Mayberry peeks out of the bathroom, covering herself with a towel, she kinda pissed over Blitzo being here. Martha pushes you back gently with one hand, not exactly wanting you to hear Blitzo's way of... language even though she kind of gave you a shotgun at the age of four.

Martha: "Oh, well... thank you! . . . You can uh, leave now."

Trying to rush him out since her kid's here, good mom, at least for Hell's standards. Do whatever.