Memory

Untitled Part 1

Memory is a tricky thing. There are things you know, and things that you are expected to know. Sometimes the things that you are expected to know are the things that you've never heard of. Oftentimes, you think that you know something, but in truth it actually never happened. Or vice versa. 

All things considered though, I am not the person to lecture anyone on memory. What are the things that you must consider? Well, I am immortal. The shitty kind of immortal. The kind where I will never physically age past 17, which is how old I was when I died for the first time. The kind where I lose most of my memory each time I die. The kind where I cannot grow back body parts, and gain new scars to my collection each time I wake back up. At this point it is basically guaranteed that once I die- I will wake up three minutes later without a clue as to what is going on.

To be fair, there are a few things I always remember right away. I remember my name, Fred. I remember my gender, male. I remember things I like; cats, cakes, and ice cream. I remember this really funny joke I heard one time in 1984. I remember this totally banger party I went to back in 1922. I will always remember the plot to my favorite book, such a shame it went out of print.

I will always remember each time I died.

So far, I have died 49 times. It's a lot, but that's how it is. At the very least, no one has tried to decapitate me, so far. Not sure how that would work out. My right eye is gone due to someone I barely remember scooping it out with a melon baller. A few of my toes are partially missing due to frostbite. If I could remember more than fragments, I bet those stories would be fun. Not fun for me- fun for you to listen to. 

One time, I was burned at the stake. THAT was most certainly not fun. However, somehow I am not covered in burn scars. I guess whatever is keeping me alive cleaned that up a bit.

Have you ever woken up in the backseat of a car with a thick white blanket draped over you? I have. Or I am. I'm in the back of a car. It's going kind of fast. I reach up to pull the blanket off of my face. As I move, a bullet rolls off my forehead and down off the seat. I feel my face. There is a scar where someone shot me in the head. I glance over at the two men sitting in the front seat of the car. There is a brief flash to a few minutes ago as I can remember the sweaty bozo in the passenger side seat shooting me in the head.

I sit up, pushing away the blanket, and look at myself. I'm wearing a purple tube top, and booty shorts. That's it. As I sat there, trying to figure out how I'd even gotten here, or who these people are, I realized that there is an obnoxious blaring sound coming from the front seat. The radio.

I reached forward to press the power button. The two men turned to stare at me. Oops. The car swerved as the driver was distracted. He quickly found a place to pull over. I sat back, making myself comfortable as the two went on about "what the fuck" and "what did you do" and "I thought he was dead it was your job to kill him you idiot."

"Fellas, Fellas." I put my hands on the backs of the seats and leaned forward. "I have no idea what is going on, but I'm sure that this can be resolved peacefully."

Passenger side raised his gun again.

"Really?" I looked down at him with a softer expression. Like looking at a kid who messed up. I glanced at the rear view mirror as I pointed at my forehead. There was a lot of blood. "That didn't work the first time. What makes you think that it will this time? Why can't we just talk this out?"

Passenger Side glanced at my chest. The tube top was slipping. You could see old scars across my chest, clearly from previous deaths. He glanced back at his buddy. He raised his hands, and tossed his gun to the floor of the car. "What do you want?"

I thought for a moment, trying to think of something useful. "Ok, first of all, I would like any kind of personal items that you may have taken from me. If you don't have anything, then that's ok."

"We don't have-" the driver was cut off by the passenger side guy jabbing him in the ribs with an elbow. "On the floor next to you. Other side."

I picked up a large black backpack. It jingled from the keychains dangling from every zipper. I knew this bag. I opened it up. There were a few things in here I knew about. A shirt from some event. That book. Then, I found the jackpot. A wallet and phone. Wait there were two phones. One was a flip phone that didn't turn on, while the other was a fully charged touch screen. Ok that one. 

I went through the wallet. I had around $100. According to a simple ID, I'd been attending a high school. There was a drivers license as well. I stifled a laugh as I read the fake information. There wasn't anything else in it. I dropped the wallet back in the bag to focus on the phone.

The lock screen wallpaper was of me in the mirror at a public restroom. I was standing in a group. We were wearing wigs and tacky clothing, all brightly colored and pulling silly faces. I couldn't figure out what the event was, but it didn't matter if I couldn't remember. Luckily, my thumbprint opened the phone. I had no clue what the passcode could be. I checked my messages. Apparently I was meant to be going to a party? I wasn't really sure. I couldn't find anything indicating how I got in my current situation. The guys looked nervous, trying to subtly peek at my phone. I think they thought I was trying to contact someone for help. 

"OK." I turned off the phone, and tossed it back into the bag. "How about this? You let me get out of the car, and you get on with your lives and forget that this ever happened?"

"Yeah, right. How do we know you won't report us?" Driver's Side asked. 

"I'm not sure if you noticed, but my memory," I pointed at my head. "It's pretty shit. I have no clue who you are, or where I am. I've got nothing against you. Or I wouldn't unless you let me out."

They glanced at each other, and soon I was standing on the side of the road, watching them speed away. 

"Great." I muttered to myself. I slung the bag off my shoulder and pulled out the phone. There was still service. With a check of the map app, I found that I was, in fact not in the middle of nowhere. 

I was on the edge of somewhere.