Warnings in October 2010

I often think about how long it takes to forget something. A name can be completely forgotten within a couple of seconds. Somethings, however, take a lifetime to be erased from the grey matter which flows between the ears. Like that time I electrocuted myself from the Christmas tree’s light plug. Now whenever I plug something in or take a plug out I’m always extremely careful, that was years ago, but I can still remember how the plug looked. You see, I couldn’t sleep the other night because I told the staff at the bar to put a huge bottle of Champagne into the freezer, and I forgot to tell them to take it out. It was a huge bottle, the kind that you see the winners of an F1 race spray all over the crowd in victory. I kept seeing the bottle exploding into their face as they picked it up out of the freezer just like that time when a bottle of apple juice exploded onto my mom’s arm while we were on line to check out in that A&P supermarket. There was blood everywhere. My mom still can’t use her hand as she once could. She should have sued, but that was back in the day when people didn’t sue. I couldn’t sleeep with that image in my head. I had to get down to the bar before the first employee got there to warn them of the danger. So I tossed on my clothes and headed down to the bar. Stupid me, how quickly can I forget that the weather has changed? But wasn’t it hot outside just a few days ago? Wasn’t I wearing sandals just a week ago? Now I was shivering outside of the bar waiting to save the first staff member to show up from that bottle that was surely going to blow up the moment they touched it. That’s just how toughtful I can be. So I thought.

When she finally arrived, she simply shook her head. “You idiot! You told us to put the bottle in the fridge last night just before you left.” Yes, that’s me—full of thought, yet devoid of memory. Now that I was up, and at the bar already, why not get a beer? After all, there weren’t any empty taxis in the area anyway, and I surely wasn’t going to walk all the way home. But I hadn’t eaten a think all day, and wasn’t that the reason that I got so drunk the night before that I forgot what I said to the bartenderess? Somethings you choose to remember and somethings you choose to forget. Oh well, and didn’t I still have a bit left in that bottle I had from the previous evening? Forget that beer, and bring on the vodka. Wasn’t it cold enough outside to be drinking the bliss from the north? And with a splash of cranberry juice, was there anything better? Nothing that I can remember at least.

By Tim Hoerle