I think I forgot…
Forgotten on June 8, 2025.
I think I forgot how to write this week.
I think I forgot where I left my pen and paper this week. Then I found it. But then I forgot where my computer was. Then I found it. Then I tripped over a particularly long strand of spaghetti and went nose-first down the stairs. Then I forgot my own name.
As a trained forgetty, forgetting things both unimportant and important comes easily to me. But forgetting my own name was never a part of my training! So, a quandary arose. However, I quickly forgot about that too, and remembered my name: Hitler.
But I often forget about Hitler. So, I soon forgot that. Then my name came back to me: Nurdlebutt.
This remembrance inspired me to go mewling and meowing about the neighborhood—reasons for which I didn’t fully grasp, but since I had forgotten so much already, I shrugged it off: Just something else I forgot. Then I remembered I forgot to put pants on when I went out. But I forgot how to be embarrassed so it didn’t matter!
A dead mouse dangling from my mouth, I then returned to my palatial abode at 229B Bouillabaisse Boulevard. (I remembered that address just fine!) And so I started caterwauling triumphantly.
Then I got slapped by a rather voluptuous and sciurine girl who was allegedly living there too—and whose name I forgot.
Then my cat tried to scratch my corneas out and I suddenly remembered Nurdlebutt was her name.