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May 22, 2005

Volume 1, Issue 10

Reaching into my bag of verbal tricks, and after the dictionary took a bite of my hand, I pulled from the sack these three words:


Do your worst!

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Officer, honestly my memory's no good, anymore. Must've left it in my blue purse when I switched it out at the last minute because my sandals are black, unless they're a really dark blue. To tell the truth, my eyes are not that good these days, either. I'm pretty sure they're good enough for daytime driving, but at night... Listen, if I promise not to drive in the dark too often will you call us even on this not having my license thing? You know how insurance companies are- those apparatchiks will drop my policy if I get another ticket. What? My proof of insurance card is two years old? Oh, damn, did I forget to mail in the premiums? You know, I do blackout a bit, but I'm down to half of a fifth every two days. Hey, that's only a twentieth a day. If this weren't a silk blouse, I'd cry, but I could tell you how gorgeous your eyes are. Well, they could be behind those mirrored sunglasses. Wait, don't move! Why didn't you tell me my lipstick was smudged like that? You know, I'll forgive you if you tear up that ticket thing you're writing

Posted by: anon at May 21, 2005 10:44 PM · Permalink

Hours. I’ve stood in this line for hours. I’m still hours from reaching the counter.

Bring all your receipts, the lady said. So I brought them all. Five years worth.

She told me to get in line and wait when I got here. And this is where I’ve been. For hours.

I’ve had plenty of time to worry. Did I follow the instructions? Where my forms submitted on time? Did I make a mistake on my deductions?

Why didn’t I let a professional handle this?

Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. Oh my God! Am I at the correct address?

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at May 22, 2005 12:32 AM · Permalink

Damn! Misspelled 'were'.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at May 22, 2005 12:33 AM · Permalink

All I ‘member is a thud, then the priest standin’ over me. Really. Crash wiped the rest of my memory.

The preacher man said somethin’ ‘bout forgivin’ my sins. I said, “What sins?”

Then I died, an’ went straight to Hell since I didn’t get my sins forgiven. But I can’t get forgiveness for ‘em if I don’t know what they was!

I tole ‘em dis when I got here. They say, “Here’s a form, stand it dat line.” Been in line for Purgatory relocation six months now. ‘Nother month an’ I’m jus’ gonna jump in the lake of fire!

Posted by: Geoffrey Barto at May 22, 2005 1:42 AM · Permalink

"What the fuck is it with you people? Now you've lost my check? The deputies won't let me into my own fucking house! Christ, don't you care at all what you've done to me?"

"I...I'm so sorry!" she gasped, mouth working. He backed away from her stricken face, bewildered, as the woman began to weep.

Later, the other clerks patted her back, tentatively.

"He just didn't recognize you, Alice. The hospital...you know he can't remember. But the important thing is that he's much better now. You've got to hold onto that. He's much better, Alice. You did the right thing."

Posted by: Carthoris of Helium at May 22, 2005 2:19 AM · Permalink

"Geoffrey Pekins, you have been found guilty of assault in the first degree and have been sentenced to a six month mind-wipe at Noble Mercy Psychiatric Center. Your memories, including who you are, will be removed while you undergo behavioral therapy to ensure that you will not repeat your offense upon release. Are there any questions?"

"Yes, when do I get my memory back?"

"After your term is completed, you will report here for re-issuance. Please bring two forms of identification with you at this time."

"Wait! My papers have been confiscated! How will I know..."


"...who am I?"

Posted by: Johnny Catbird at May 22, 2005 1:12 PM · Permalink

The line seemed to go on forever. It was six days ago that I found myself at the end of it. I trudged forward, one spot at a time, blasting evil thoughts at those lucky enough to be at the front. On the third day, I looked behind me, and saw that the line snaked back to the horizon. I knew, though, that it extended even further.

Now, however, I was a mere five spots away.





“Next!” the woman at the window called. “How can I help you?”

I blinked. “Ummmm…. I’ve forgotten why I’m here…”

Posted by: No One of Consequence at May 22, 2005 2:53 PM · Permalink

Lo Pan regarded the prisoner.

"You wish to confess?"

"I don't know what I did!"

"Nonsense. The Revolutionary committe for Ideological purity would not have picked you up othewise."

"Then I don't remember! Please, you must believe me! I'm sorry! I'll never do it again!"

Lo Pan cocked the Makarov.

"Well, you got the last part right."

Posted by: Eric Blair at May 22, 2005 5:39 PM · Permalink

My watch tells me that it's June 14, 2023, and that I've been waiting
in line for exactly 19 days.

All I remember is 15 minutes.
All I've remembered since 2007 is 15 minutes long.

The signs tell us that we must apply to get our memories back after
we have served our sentences. I'm sure that I've read the signs
many times.

The card in my hand says that I killed 37 people with a machete.
I'm sorry I did it, and I don't know what I felt during it,
but standing in line, I'm starting to remember why.

Posted by: Randy Shane at May 22, 2005 8:11 PM · Permalink

Check before you post!