This is a short story I had pop into my head while at work one day that I just had a chance to write down. While I was writing it, I thought that the concept of “The Last Thing I Remember” would make a pretty good prompt for people to make into their own stories. There’s so many different directions that it can be taken. Mine is rather …..wrong.
If you feel like writing your own tale of someone’s last thing remembered, feel free to do so. Also, you can link back to this post, if you so choose.
Immediately after I woke up, a bright light was being shined into my eyes. This was followed by the excited chatter of people whose voices I had never heard before. One of the voices, in a very authoritarian timbre, began asking me questions.
“What’s your name,” was the first query.
“Ben Dover,” I answered when the light was finally pointed elsewhere.
“Seriously, kid,” the voice pleaded. When I finally regained my vision, I saw that the speaker was a doctor and that I was lying in a hospital room. “I need you to answer the questions without being a smartass. Now, what’s your name?”
“How old are you?”
“Do you know what day it is?”
“Good. How are you feeling?”
“Except for the fact that my head feels like it’s about ready to explode, and it hurts to breathe, I feel great. What happened?”
The doctor ignored me and continued his examination. I kept trying to get him to talk to me, but he kept pretending that I wasn’t there. When he was finished, he walked out of the room without a word. I saw him get stopped in the doorway by a police officer. They talked for a minute, with the cop gesturing towards me during their talk.
I’m assuming that the policeman was asking if it was ok to talk to me, because once the doctor nodded his head, he walked into my room. “Conner,” the cop began, “I’m Officer George. You’ve been brought to the hospital because you were assaulted. Do you remember what happened?”
I was going to keep up with being a smartass, but, when I actually tried to think about it, I had trouble remembering what had happened. That, and whatever medication they gave me was starting to kick in. I don’t know what it was, but I liked it a lot. It was starting to make the pounding in my head subside. With the headache easing, I began to start remembering what happened.
“There’s no rush, Conner,” Officer George said, in his ‘everything’s ok’ voice. “What’s the last thing you do remember?”
Whoever made the alarms on fry timers was an asshole. As if working in fast food wasn’t bad enough, you had to put up with the annoying sound of those damn timers going off all day. It’s even worse when, like me, you’re hung over. Last night wasn’t the first time I’d ever been drunk, but it’s the first time I’d ever been drunk enough to have a hangover.
To make things worse, today was Joe’s day to work. I don’t have any big problems with any of the other managers, but I can’t stand Joe. He’s only five years older than me and is already a manager. In his mind, that makes him better than everyone else. He thinks he’s special because he’s a fast food manager at twenty-one. Apparently, he doesn’t realize that, because of this, he talks to everyone as if they’re morons.
“If you don’t get those fries, that alarm is going to keep going off,” he told me, proving my point.
I held up my hand, indicating that I needed a minute. After all, I was trying to concentrate on the order coming in over the speaker at the drive-thru. Joe just rolled his eyes and grabbed the fries himself. The buttons on the register beeped loudly as I inputted the order. Once I had repeated the order, and told the customer their total, Joe once again demanded my attention.
“I told you to get those fries out of the fryer,” he chided.
“I was in the middle of taking an order,” I protested.
“It doesn’t matter. From now on, you do what I tell you.”
In my head, I was telling him how I really felt about him. On the outside, I simply said, “Yeah, ok.”
The rest of the afternoon, I tried to avoid him as much as possible. It didn’t work very well. He spent most of the time finding stupid crap to get on me about. Looking at the clock, I saw that I only had twenty minutes left before it was time for me to clock out. I thought to myself, you can make it another twenty minutes. Just ignore the dumbass.
That’s when it happened.
An older woman walked up to the front counter. Joe immediately stopped his griping at me and went over to her. They talked for a couple of moments before Joe leaned over the counter and gave the woman a quick peck on the cheek. She walked out into the dining room and sat at a table while Joe started gathering up some food.
For some reason, I couldn’t keep my mouth closed. “Isn’t it against the rules to be kissing customers,” I asked him, injecting some attitude.
Joe rolled his eyes as he explained, “That’s my mom, dude.”
I made a show of looking her over. “That’s your mom? Huh….”
He knew I was up to something, so he could’ve just ignored me. He played along anyway. “What?”
“If that’s your mom, I’m surprised you were ever born.”
Joe looked at me with scorn all over his face. “Let me guess: you’re going to say that you’re surprised that I was born because my mom is so ugly that nobody would ever sleep with her? Or that I’m too ugly to come from a woman like that?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. The reason I’m surprised you were ever born has nothing to do with her looks.”
“It has to do with how much she likes to take it up the ass.”
….And that’s the last thing I remember.