JimSoft Insanitarium -> Insane Stories -> I Can't Remember
By CrazyJim

I often wonder why it is that people keep calling me Tin of Raw Soup Sculler. It's a name that everybody seems to have adopted to refer to me as. I figure it could be because I once sculled a tin of raw soup. But I wouldn't know.

People are always using my lack of long-term memory against me. I'm constantly broke due to old bets I lost and for some reason always ending up buying a house that isn't actually mine.

I could never tell if any of these things were really true or not, as I could indeed not remember any different. So in order to avoid any trouble, I just go with the flow.

But one day, just before I'd forgotten one of these incidents, I finally found a way to show those idiots what a Tin of Raw Soup Sculler is made of. I'd become fed up, apparently with soup, but also with the constant accusations.

I set about acquiring the things I'd need for my plan to work, but not before I'd written down a reminder on a piece of paper, reminding me not to show it to anybody, then describing my plan and what I'd need to acquire in order to put it into action.

Walking about the next day, I suddenly came across a note on my hand reading 'Look in pocket and rewrite this hand note.' I put my hand in my pocket and discovered a piece of paper. It told me I needed to go to the supermarket.

"Woah! That's a brilliant idea!" I exclaimed.

After re-writing my hand note, I headed for Bubba's Huge Store of Stuff. Once there, I set about acquiring the items I needed to put the plan the piece of paper told me about into action.

Constantly looking back at my hand and then the piece of paper, shouting 'Woah! That's a brilliant idea!' I wandered about the store, collecting firelighter gel, matches, black gloves, a beanie, some scissors, a large plank, several packs of Red-Stik, and a number of other items of slight-destruction.

With a full trolley, I approached the counter. There I caught site of my hand, exclaiming, "Why didn't I think of that!?" Loading everything onto the conveyor belt, I started to think about how I'd go about paying for everything. I'd completely forgotten about that.

When everything had gone through, I was given twelve bags containing all the things I had purchased, and began to walk off. From behind me I heard somebody call, "Oi! I said that will be $143.40!"

I turned back to see where the voice was coming from. Apparently I'd just left a supermarket. The cashier was somewhat upset with me for some reason. I stood there for a moment, contemplating the situation.

"Are you going to pay, or not?"

"Pay what?" I asked.

"For the stuff in that trolley." He pointed at a vehicle attached to my hands containing a large collection of items.

I let go of the trolley. Just as I did, I caught sight of my hand. It read 'Look in pocket and rewrite this hand note.' I did just that. I pulled out a piece of paper. After reading it through, I exclaimed, "Woah! That's a brilliant idea!"

"What is?" asked the cashier.

"What it says on this piece of paper."

"That's your docket."

"Oh… well, it's brillant!"

"Are you going to pay it?"

"Pay what?"

"For the stuff in the trolley… the stuff on the docket…"

"What trolley? Docket? Woah! That's a brilliant idea!"

"So you're going to pay?"

"Pay what?"

The cashier let out a strange scream. I almost thought I'd heard something like it before. It was quite a strange feeling… I almost thought I could remember something from my past. The cashier took off, screaming, "That's it! I quit!"

I looked at my hand. Finding my left pocket empty, I checked my right. After reading through the piece of paper I pulled out, I exclaimed, "Woah! That's a brilliant idea!"

I was about to head back into the supermarket with a new trolley, but I caught sight of my hand and checked my left pocket, pulling out the docket and the second piece of paper at the same time. I put two and two together, and shouted, "FOUR!" I went back to my full trolley and wheeled it outside toward my car.

Strange, I thought. I seemed more certain than usual that I actually had a car. But where did I park it? I was sure one had to actually park a car before getting out of it. How did I know that, though?

I had no time to ponder that, though, as just at that moment I came across a message on my hand. Out of my pocket, I pulled out a docket, a piece of paper with a message and a set of keys.

One of these keys looked like it belonged to a car. Again, I had no idea how I knew, but I did. I started wandering around the car park with my trolley, my docket, my message and my key. I spotted a slightly faded message on my hand. "Look i po ket an rewr te thi hand no e.'

"Huh?" I wasn't accustomed to finding weird messages on my hand. I then noticed my other hand had a trolley full of items attached to it. After a few moments of pondering, I finally exclaimed, "Aha! I'm taking them to my car!"

How did I know that? I was quite certain I'd not been this certain about anything before. How did I know that? I had heard from various people about something called the 'past' before. It was something that existed before now. I never knew there could be a before now. Was the past trying to remind me of something?

Then I saw it. My car. "I found it!" I exclaimed.

For the first time, I finally knew something. Firstly, I knew what my car looked like, and that it was indeed mine. Secondly, I knew that I'd never known what happened before. Thirdly, I knew that everybody else knew the second thing I knew and that I needed to enact revenge on them.

"I'll show them what a Tin of Raw Soup Sculler can remember!" I shouted as I loaded up my car with all the items I needed to enact my plan. I jumped in the car and took off to my home to prepare. I had four hours before nightfall…

Finally, by about 7pm, everything was ready. There was still a haze of sunlight over the horizon, but for the most part it was night. I had remembered the location of an old backpack I'd stored in my attic, and had loaded it up with all my items of vengeance.

My first target was Bill's house, which I was now certain once belonged to me. It was located halfway across town to my present house, which I now realised was a cardboard box on the side of a highway, and not, in fact, a house at all. It was Bill who had convinced me it was, I now remembered.

Fortunately, it was entirely downhill from my spot on the side of the highway to Bill's house that was actually mine, so I was able to roll my car, parked in a convenient nearby ditch, right to his front yard without giving away my presence.

I noticed his front light was on. I crept up, keeping to the shadows. I knew this yard well, as I had spent about a week living here before Bill convinced me otherwise.

My master plan was about to be set into action. Although I stumbled across an unexpected rake and a sign reading 'Joe's House', I made it to the front door with such stealth that the only thing that could be heard was my stumbling around and occasional screaming, and the shouts of nearby residents complaining about some idiot in someone's front yard.

I stopped for a moment to check if anybody had stirred inside the house. Nothing happened, so I screamed, "Bonzai!" Nothing else happened, so I charged at the doorway.

Unfortunately, the door blocked my path and I was hurled back onto the porch. Staring at the light before me, my plan came back to my attention, and suddenly the location of the key came to my attention.

I jumped up, ran around the side of the house screaming, "I know where it is!" and lifted up a brick lying on the ground, reading "KEY HERE" in bold permanent ink. Beneath the brick sat my key. Such a wonderful sight! I'd not seen this key for months. And as I took it and slotted it into the front door, its glitter beneath the porch light made me realise I'd never actually seen it at all before.

The mere realisation of this, let along the fact itself, caused me to scream out, "I see the key!" Turning it, I stepped into the house.

"Bi-ill… I'm ho-ome…"

Bill stepped out from a doorway, shocked at my presence. "Oh, it's just… I mean… who are you?"

"You know damn well who I am, Bill. I want my house back."

"Your house? I'm afraid I'm going to have to call the police."

"You told me this wasn't my house!"

"How do you know th-I… I mean, what!?"

I pointed at the door behind me. "Get out."

"Are you trying to kick me out of my own home?"

I held out the tube of fire-lighting gel and a match. "Nope. I'm threatening to burn down my house."

"Put it down, Joe."

I pointed at the door. "As soon as you leave."

Bill stared at me for a moment, and realising he was in a stalemate, he declared, "That's it. I'm out of here." And with that, he stepped past me, grabbed the fire-lighting gel and match, and walked out the door. As he did, he decided to set fire to a patch of my carpet and set it alight.

"Why'd you do that!?" I screamed out after he left.

I heard a voice from beyond the door calling back, "I didn't! You did!"

"Oh, right," I said to myself. Then I realised something-I didn't need to say that any more! I could rely on my own memory. "104!" I called back.

I was about to make for the lounge room when the scent of burning carpet, rubber and paint caught my attention. "Something smells like burning carpet, rubber and paint…" I said melodically, heading for the kitchen. As I arrived at the oven and realised there was nothing cooking, my memory kicked in and I sprinted to the front door to find a large hole in my floor and half of the front of my house flickering pretty colours.

"This brings back memories…" I said as I set out to put the front of my house out. It felt good to be able to say that for the first time in my life. Actually, I realised at that moment that I had indeed been able to remember things before. In fact, as my memories flooded back, I came to realise that I'd only been unable to remember anything since three months ago when I lost a bet to Bill:

"I bet you can't bash your head into that flagpole a hundred times and still be able to keep count," Bill announced as we were sitting around outside a café counting things that weren't camels.

"You're on. I bet you my house," I had replied, shaking his hand and heading for the flagpole. I now remembered screaming "One hundred and four!" just before my memory disappeared in a brilliant display of blue and white.

As I sat in my lounge-verandah-kitchen-bedroom-part-of-attic (the best I could describe it when giving the grand tour to visitors after the fire), pondering the past couple of months, I realised that my unfortunate incident with the flagpole had been a blessing in disguise. My entire life I had been complaining about things, jumping from one day to the other without regard to anything, regretting my past and dreading my future. Now, I realised the true meaning of 'living in the moment'. Now I could really appreciate my tendency to stand up suddenly amidst large crowds, running in circles screaming, "I know exactly what I'm talking about!" I could now look at my past with reverence, realising my life was indeed unmistakably perfect-if it wasn't for my past I'd not have a magnificent tourist attraction set up as part of my front lawn, reeling in hundreds of dollars a day from people just sitting there watching me.

Now, I care none for the future, know the purpose of my past, and understand my place in the present. But one thing really keeps bugging me-"Who the hell is Joe!?"

© 2003 JimSoft