Being forgetful (a short story)

Here's one short story that was shared to me by a friend of mine who was hired by a San Diego web design firm, his name's Jeedo and this was one of the short stories he made basically as filler for their college publication:

When I was still a little boy I had this innate nature of forgetting things. Once, my grandfather requested me to buy a medicine for him, a certain tablet with a name I barely remember. It sounded like diametusin or was it derobusin? Anyway, with the eagerness of a youngster, I went out to the pharmacy and bought the tablet. Unfortunately (for my grandfather) I bought the wrong tablet. What he wanted was a medicine for his headache, I bought a medicine for constipation. Good thing, when he took the tablet, it worked! His headache was gone, but there was just one minor side effect. After he took the tablet, he spent the rest of the day at the toilet (and I mean the rest of the day). After the incident, my grandfather came to conclude to take it all out at the restroom whenever he had a headache. I tried to tell him about the tablet, but he just wouldn't listen

Enough about my grandfather, there was also another incident (I was already a high school student at that time) during our chemistry laboratory. We were working on some chemicals that were quite explosive when mixed with water. Our chemistry teacher was giving us step-by-step instructions on the proper handling of the chemicals. We listened intently and I was sure that I got everything right (so I assumed). Luckily for me, I was picked up by our teacher as one of the assistants. When we segregated the chemicals, I forgot to separate the bottles containing the chemicals and the ones containing pure water because they looked the same. To cut the story short, after our lab, besides the smoke, what was left of the chemistry room were a few sturdy wall frames, some tables and iron chairs, also a few of my classmates and of course, me. Anyway, I eventually forgot about the incident when I was transferred to another school.

There was even one time that I was part of a big play depicting the life of a farmer. Since I could not memorize any line I was just assigned as one of the props men. My role during that time was to guide the farm animals and coordinate their movements onstage. The director gave me cues so that I'll know when to let some of the animals in and some of them out during the show. Not one cue did I remember, so when the director was giving me all sort of weird signals, I panicked and I let all the animals go on stage. What ensued then was a grand chaotic scenario filled with flying ducks, chickens darting to and fro, squealing pigs that were sliding across the slippery stage, goats that were either crying or laughing and actors that were shouting "Mama!" at the top of their lungs! It was total chaos! But the audience enjoyed the pandemonium so much that after the show, they gave a standing ovation. During that time, my face beamed with a smile that almost tore my lips.

During my sophomore and junior years in high school I transferred from school to school wreaking havoc wherever I go because of my forgetfulness. Honestly speaking, I just couldn't remember how many schools and how many times I transferred. But more or less, it was only a few.

When I became a senior high school student, my parents consulted my dilemma to a famous child psychologist. I was pretty intimidated because I already considered myself an adult during that time. Still, I agreed with my mom and dad to see the psychologist and stayed with him for a month for my treatment. During the first few days I was nervous and apprehensive because the psychologist was stern-looking. What we usually did was that he would show me pictures and then he would let me describe the pictures, you know, the usual stuff psychologists do. However, to my demise, most of the sessions were boring because what he would usually show me were abstract pictures that closely resembled his wife (sort of). I did improve though, but unfortunately, my treatment was never completed because after the second week, he admitted himself in a mental hospital.

When I became a freshman college student, I began to take interest on girls. I was always conscious about how I looked because I believed in the saying "first impressions last." There was this one particular girl that I liked so much. She had a fair skin, straight hair, cute smile and eyes that can pierce through any man's soul. Eventually, I fell in love with her. That was the time then when I started courting her. Believe it or not, she became my girlfriend, I just couldn't remember how. Everything went fine for the two of us not until our first anniversary. We went to a beach, my girlfriend and I, and we stayed in a cottage. Man, that was the greatest event of my life because we stayed there overnight. The next day, I woke up early morning, I took a bath, brushed my teeth, changed my clothes and then I went home, bringing with me all the things I brought. I forgot my girlfriend. When I got home, I went to my room and slept without anything on my mind. Afternoon came and I was awakened by a furious and loud knock downstairs. With only my shorts on, I immediately went downstairs and opened the door. To my surprise, it was my girlfriend with her wind-blown hair, dusty clothes, skimpy shorts (sexy), and tattered slippers. She looked as if she walked a pretty long distance. "My goodness, what happened to you?" I asked with all my concern. Without saying a word, she punched me three times, a right hook, a left cross and finished with an upper cut! The third one put me to sleep and that was the end for both of us. That was also the last time I saw her.

So much about my love life, I miss her at times though. Now, I am already an engineering student and I will be graduating soon after a few more years of study. Just one thing, I keep forgetting my class schedules that I always end up either later or absent. Just a month ago, I ended at one of the classes of the graduate school, I just couldn't remember how. However, I enjoyed that experience because I was the only one who answered most of the instructor's questions (hee hee hee). Through out the whole twenty years of my life, I went on and on forgetting this and that. My forgetfulness was and is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing for those who owe me debts and a curse for those persons I owe debts. But despite myself, I am very content with what I have. However, the thing that just bugs me right now is, how did I ever end up telling you my life's story?