Sometimes, you envy those who remember, while you complain about your short term memory. In fact, there are two sides to each story, one that is quite extreme.
The physician drummed his fingers against the wooden table irritably. The patient was almost an hour late. The Victorian-style furniture was that of a normal, well-off Victorian family, not those who struggle to reach twenty in the slums. The man dyed his curtains with lead carefully, making it quite the pleasant sight. In those times, they didn’t know that lead was poisonous. Since it proved useful in decoration, they used it in their everyday household items- card, paint...
“Yes, yes, it’ll be feeding time soon.” The physician took the Hoothoot off his neat chestnut hair. The Pokémon liked to rest of its owner’s head when it wanted food. The owl fluttered down onto the table, snapping to attention when the door creaked open. A man, probably in his twenties, stood with a neat leather top hat, his hair hidden under it. He wore a stylish black jacket with a checkered white and blue shirt underneath. The collar was so stiff the physician swore it could cut off ears- he had seen several cases of his patients coming in with bleeding ears because of it.
The man quickly seated himself, taking off his top hat, revealed an untidy bush of black hair. The physician noticed his patient wore padding to bring out his chest. The style of men these days are getting more and more ridiculous. The man raised his hand and stroked the Hoothoot. Its large, rounded eyes closed in pleasure, and it squawking softly.
“Good morning, Physician Martin. I’m sorry I’m late. There was a funeral for my friend’s mother and he suddenly contacted me and begged me to come at the last minute. I rushed over as soon as I could.” The man said. Martin nodded and glanced over the paperwork on his desk. It said: ‘To the physician in question...’ Martin skipped to the bottom, and turned his head again.
“Not a problem, Mister Francis. Now, you arranged this appointment with me because you said you had... superior memory compared to most. How superior?” Martin fumbled his hands nervously on his black robe as the patient thought. This was a peculiar case that he was dealing with- how this would end, nobody knows.
“Well, you can test me. I say I am quite good.” Francis said. The Hoothoot, still wanting to remind Martin about its hunger pangs, flew up on his head. Francis giggled somewhat, and Martin sighed.
“Excuse me. I need to feed my bird first.” Martin reached for his drawer as his Hoothoot further dug its claws into his head, telling him to work faster. Martin groaned and pulled out a large bag. He extended his hand into the open zip, pulling out a dried Caterpie, and flinging it in the air as the Hoothoot flew after it. Martin didn’t like doing that. The only reason he had a Hoothoot was because it was easy to find Caterpies to feed it on the street, which made it a practically free clock.
That was when Martin figured out how to test Francis. He zipped the bag and opened the drawer below, taking out a piece of paper. He also took out his dip pencil, and his bottle of ink. On it, he wrote thirty random two-digit numbers. “Let’s see if you remember this,” Martin said before putting it gently on the table. “Tell me when your done memorizing.”
Francis said ‘done’ before the ink has dried, before Martin turned his back to face Francis. The physician gaped, but simply took it as the patient being too haughty. Indeed, some people have approached him who claimed to have superhuman abilities, when they were proven to be ordinary citizens with peanuts for brains, thinking they could get away with such ridiculous scams.
Martin was wrong. As the man recited what he saw, Martin slowly felt more stunned. “Why, that’s incredible! You got it all remembered!” Martin said, and Francis nodded.
“I told you.” Francis said.
It is now twenty years later. The man held his pipe as he puffed slowly, sitting on his rocking chair.
“Hello, Martin? I’m sorry I’m late again. This time it was Combee here.” The three faces emerged slowly from behind Francis. Noctowl swopped down, investigating the Pokémon. Although Francis have kept Combee for quite a while, Noctowl has never seen it- most of the time, it was Martin going to Francis’ house to meet. That was, of course, before it burnt down in a fire the day before, and Martin gave him a small apartment- much less of a meeting place then Martin’s house.
“Oh, you were supposed to come? Sorry old chap, I’ve grown old. Though, I don’t think the subject of time is actually affecting your memory.” Martin said. Francis laughed slightly, before sighing, seating himself at the table as he did all those years ago.
“It’s been exactly twenty years since I’ve been here. How does time fly. I remember when I met you here, and we made a pact to go and find out how I had such good memory. On the way, we wanted to find anything that helps in boosting memory. We discovered Combee honey boosted memory, thanks to this little fellow befriending us and letting us test its honey.” Francis said. Martin walked over to the desk again, as his partner talked.
“You didn’t believe I had such good memory, so you gave me thirty words to test me with. Now, what were those words again? Thirty-six, eighty-five...” Martin gasped as he pulled the yellowed paper out of the mountain of documents which littered his untidy table, untouched from the time he made a pact with Francis- his busy time made him give up being a physician, and only used the toilet and the bed late at night when he returned to his house. Even though the words were faded, it was still there, and Martin could read them.
“Why, that’s incredible! You got it all remembered!” Martin gasped.
“You said that too.” Francis said.
“You know, I envy you sometimes,” Martin said, placing the paper on the desk. The Combee flew up to Martin, and he took some of its honey again, using the same old jar he always kept in his pocket, the sugary mixture falling off Combee’s body like thick sweat. “You don’t need honey. You can memorize everything in a flash, and never forget. It’s all a man can dream of.”
“No. That’s wrong.” Francis said. Martin’s eyes widened as Francis said the words so flatly, so... ungentlemanly. He usually wasn’t like that.
“I hate it when people think like that. All the information, it all piles up in my head, jamming up all sensible thought and just driving me crazy!” Francis said, and is black eyes filled his water. “Forgetting is a gift. A gift I do not have.”
Pokemon being Captured: Combee
Suggested Length: 5,000 - 10,000
Actual Length: 6,374