My own personal Hangover


The other day, I notice that I have a scar on my forehead. I don’t know where it came from. Or when it happened. All I know is that I now notice it every time I look in a mirror.

For 3 days I looked at my scar. Trying to remember from whence it came. No luck. I could not recall what might have caused the gash on my head. Perhaps my loss of memory is a result of this mysterious wound.

Slowly, it started to come together. I vaguely remember I might have hit my head on something some time ago. But when? And how? I remember something about a door. Then I realized that is what actually happened. I remember making a joke about it having actually walked into a door.

The scar

I asked my wife if she recalled what had happened to my head. She gave me a blank stare. “What are you talking about?” she replied. “This. Right here,” I said, pointing to my forehead. “Something about a door. Do you remember what I did? I remember it was right before something important. I was concerned I would have a black eye for…whatever it was.” She rolled her eyes and walked away. Either she is involved in this conspiracy somehow, or that is just her normal reaction whenever I open my mouth. I still haven’t decided.

Desperate to find out what happened to me, I searched my pockets. Car key. Wallet. Phone. I decided to start with the easiest thing to search. My wallet.

Driver’s license. Credit cards. Loyalty cards. Target gift card (that has been there for…I have no idea how long. Or how much is on it. I’ll remember it the next time I leave Target.) Nothing much to speak of. Until…I found these.

Two raffle ticket coupons. Maybe these are some sort of clue. I pulled them out and began examining them. There was some writing on the back of both of them. I tried to decipher their message. “Dwayne Bailey.” That’s helpful. Just my name. What kind of clue is that?

Next up was the car key. I walked out to the driveway to see what may be parked there. A black Nissan Sentra. Where did this come from? Wait. That’s my car. Temporarily distracted by the 11-year-old yelling something at me about getting to her bus stop, I drove to work.

Hours later, while looking through the open apps on my phone, I remembered my quest. The only item left in my pocket was my phone. I decided to take a look. Twitter. Vine. Angry Birds. Hours later, I resumed my search.

“Wait a minute!” I thought. “I’m sure I would have taken a picture of it when it happened. That’s the type of person I am.” So I scrolled through the camera roll on my phone. I’ll spare you the details of all I found. But then I came across this.

February 13th, if I recall directly. I know this because the picture before it was a list of things that needed to be done before the wife opened her shop. And the picture right after was of people at the shop. But what had happened? Surely I didn’t walk into a door all on my own. Someone had to have…I probably did it myself.

And then I found this. This must be involved! Why on earth would I have a photo like this on my phone?

This pirate wench and shiny knight must be involved as well. Perhaps they are working with my wife. Perhaps they are in cahoots with the door.

I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. I will look for you. I will find you. I will be avenged!

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