March 30, 2015 | Posted in COMEDY, FAN FICTION, FANDOM, MOVIES, SCIENCE FICTION | By Arthur Chappell
FORGETFULNESS OF THINGS PAST
A fan fiction work inspired by the wonderful Jim Carey / Kate Winslett movie, Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind. In the movie, the company Lacuna is able to erase unwanted memories from people’s minds in the movie. Here, I speculate how my own visit to their offices might go.
Is this the Lacuna offices? Oh good, perhaps you can explain to me why I just came here. I’ve forgotten already. Did I have my mind wiped already, possibly yesterday? That’ll save me a few dollars if I did.
I’d like to thank you for curing my Déjà Vu problem. I really don’t think I met you before, though your friend here looks a bit familiar.
One fragment of memory has stayed with me, where you compared your procedures in my head to waking up after a few beers too many, so in future I’m just having a few beers – it’ll be cheaper and a lot more fun. I might regret the hangover, but it’ll do the job.
What I need from you is an alibi and an excuse. If my boss wants to know why I took days off, came in late or failed to ship out some orders I was supposed to handle, can I blame you for leaving gaps in my memory? If I forget my wedding anniversary again, next April, or maybe it was June, can I say that is your fault too?
Maybe you could also help me forget that day those two Men In Black pointed a weird pen at me and a bunch of other people in Roswell, just after that gas leak they said we’d all experienced.
There are a few memories I’d rather like back, and I know your processes can’t be reversed, but I read that amnesia can be cured by a sudden sharp blow to the head. That’s why I went to a nightclub bouncer and insulted his parentage. Sadly he didn’t thump me on the head – he just kicked me in the bollocks. That was pain I’d like to forget.
Maybe you could give me a few nice happy inspiring false memories; acts of great bravery, such as saving children from an orphanage fire, or taking out a machine gun nest single handedly; or maybe the night I slept with Bridget Bardot? Oh, you can’t do that. What a shame.
So, how much will that cost me? $6,000. Oh, forget it!
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