She’s gone. And the present is trivia.
3rd place in Derby #251: Personality Defects Illustrated, with 568 votes!
I met Dory through work. Fish insurance. I was an investigator. I’d investigate the claims to see which ones were fishy. I had to see through fishes’ bulls&%^. It was useful experience, ‘cause now it’s my life. When I meet a fish, I don’t know if I’ve met them before.
I have to just look in their big, glassy eyes and try and figure them out. My job taught me the best way to find out what some fish knew was just to let them talk and watch their eyes and body language. If a fish flares their gills experts tell you it means they’re lying. It really means they’re nervous. Fish get nervous for all sorts of reasons. They’re fish.
I’d just become an investigator when I met Dory. Strangest case ever. Now, the fish is 3 years old, semi-retired. She’s been in an accident; nothing too serious, but she’s acting funny. She can’t get a handle on what’s going on. Dory can’t remember anything for more than a couple minutes. Can’t work, can’t do s&%&. The medical bills pile up. She calls the insurance company, I get sent in.
Dory can think just fine, but she can’t make any new memories. She can only remember things for a couple of minutes. She’d watch TV, but anything longer than a couple minutes was too confusing. She couldn’t remember how it began. She liked commercials; they were short. Now the doctors assure me there’s a real condition called anterial-grade memory loss, or short term memory loss. It’s rare, but legit. Every time I see her, I catch this slight look of recognition, but she says she can’t remember me at all.
Eventually she got distracted and swam off after some orange stripey fish. I wonder what ever happened to her?
Wear this shirt: While tattooing various rules to survive on your body.
Don’t wear this shirt: Under water.
This shirt tells the world: “Don’t believe my lies.”
We call this color: I can’t royal blue to forget you.
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