The Last Thing I Remember

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?”

“Conner Horne.”

“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.

This entry was posted in Writing.

26 comments on “The Last Thing I Remember

  1. djmatticus says:

    “Joe…. Joe…. JOE! Snap out of it.”
    “What? What?”
    “You went crazy, what happened?”
    “I’m not sure…”
    “What’s the last thing you remember?”
    “Uh, Conner insulted my mom… and then everything went red.”

    • 1jaded1 says:

      I have to remember not to read this at work…so funny. Your comment too.

      • djmatticus says:

        Yes, reading at work is uaually problematic for me. Luckily I’ve gotten pretty good at stifling my laughter. And when those nearest me catch on that I’ve read something funny, they usually just want to read it too rather than raise any sort of fuss.

    • It certainly is possible, but, if the police are already involved, it’s probably more like:

      “Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?”
      “You assaulted a minor, Joe.”
      “I did? The last thing I remember….”

  2. Paul says:

    Yeah, teens are a bit dense for a few years – like a good bread dough, their heads have to be pounded a few times to make them right.

    • I don’t think I would’ve said anything like that as a teen. It probably would’ve been close, though.

      • Paul says:

        I’m not suggesting that anyone pound them deliberately, I mean they engage in activities or say words that that quickly and decisively result in a violent response. It takes them a while to see consequences (that part of the brain actually doesn’t mature until late twenties) and realize they live in an interactive world where what they do affects what is done to them. I can certainly recall a number of stupid actions on my part that could have easily resulted in my termination. I’m a solid believer that God pays special attention to fools, drunks and small children. Without that I never would have lived as long as I have. The truth is that I’ve stared death in the face more times than I can count and through absolutley no ability on my part, lived. Ha! 😀

  3. 1jaded1 says:

    Must never read your stuph at work! I’m still laughing…hahahahahaha.

  4. serins says:


  5. I did not see that coming…

  6. I tried not to laugh since assault is not good and stuff… But that was smart 😀

  7. LAMarcom says:

    Too Damn Funny!
    And this is priceless:
    “…injecting some attitude.”

  8. 1jaded1 says:

    Still funny the sexond time around.

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