A Comedy of AR's (Book 2)

Chapter 11
CHAPTER 211 .......... Amnesia (Part Five) Meeting Paul Adams … Again

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Chapter Description: 2 new pictures added 4/3/24 Images for this story can be found at the following web...... https://sites.google.com/view/comedy-ars-characters/home

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CHAPTER  211

“Why would I voluntarily build a crib for myself?  Keep in mind that I’m a grown man.”

 

“Sweety, it was your choice to be turned into a baby rather than endure the extremely hard spanking.  It was probably a good decision at the time.”

 

“Why, Mom?  What did I do?”

 

“You called me stupid, Derrek … because I didn’t know how to operate the TV remote.”

 

I lowered my head.  “I see … and you’ve got this thing about ‘respect’.”

 

“I certainly do.”

 

“Did I hate being a baby?  I mean, was I even self-aware?”

 

“Oh yeah.  You’re brain was intact … and you hated babyhood with great passion … wearing diapers and wetting yourself for several days, being confined to the crib.  You weren’t even strong enough to take off your diaper to masturbate … but you were so cute as a blondie when you were two years old.”

 

She continued, “I’m sorry to say, sweety, that I enjoyed listening to you cry, especially when I gave you little tiny baby smacks on your butt when you didn’t cooperate.  I enjoyed tickling you too, whenever I changed your diaper because you were so angry and yet I made you laugh and giggle every time, and the embarrassment always gave you a boner … albeit a tiny one.”

 

“Sounds like you were torturing me.”

 

“Oh, and one time, Derrek, you did a number two in your diaper and I had to change you in the women’s restroom at a grocery store.”

 

“Could anything be more embarrassing than that, Mom?”

 

“Probably not.  The ladies who walked by thought that your ‘winky’ was cute, but you later told me that some school girls walked by and yanked on your penis.  They laughed while you cried.”

 

“But didn’t I hate you for doing that to me?”

 

“At first, sure.  But it only took you four days to become a ten-year-old again … and you apologized because you knew you were wrong.”

 

“Thanks for sharing, Mom.”  (What the hell else was I supposed to say?)

 

“So sweety, would you like to come into the kitchen with me and share a cup of coffee?”

 

That was a surprise.  “Really, Mom?  You would let me drink coffee?”

 

“It’s a personal blend … a ‘Sammantha Special’.   I start with Columbian coffe and add some Hersheys chocolate syrup and top it off with caramel whip cream.”

 

I couldn’t pass up the invitation.  “Yeah, sure Mom, thanks … sounds good.

 

“You know, sweety … I think maybe this weekend we should do some fun activities around town that we always enjoyed together … and see if some of those memories come pouring back.”

 

“Yeah, sure Mom,” I replied.  “You know that seven days is not my actual goal.  I really do want to regain my memory.  Amnesia really sucks.”

 

“Big time, sweety.  Would you like to go to the aquarium with me?  That was one of our better outings.”

 

“You mean to face my fear of water?”

 

“Exactly … maybe you remember that?”

 

“Afraid not, Mom … I was just using logic.”

 

 

 

We arrived at the aquarium at 10 am when they opened.  Sammantha led me to all the fish exhibits she said we had looked at once before.  Then she showed me the Humboldt penguins.

 

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I told her.  “I don’t remember any of this.”

 

“Then let’s try the ‘touch pool’ where you can pet the string rays.  Don’t worry. Their tail barbs have been removed.”

 

“But, Mom, why would I want to put my hands in water?  Wouldn’t I get younger?”

 

“Last time, you trusted me here.  Trust me now, sweety.”

 

I shrugged nervously and answered, “Okay.”

 

I closed my eyes and winced … and then placed my right hand in the touch pool.  Nothing happened.  I didn’t feel any contractions.  “Why am I okay here, Mom?” I asked.

 

“Because these are salt water sting rays.  Only ordinary fresh water affects you.”

 

“Well, that’s good to know even if I don’t remember it from before.”

 

“Sweety, why don’t we have some lunch at the Walden Galleria Mall?”

 

“Okay.”

 

 

 

When we entered the mall,  dozens of memories began flooding back into my head. I smiled.  “Mom, everything is familiar here!  I know this place!  I know all the stores.”

 

“Derrek, do you recall being with someone when you came?”

 

“Um … no, not exactly.  I remember stopping at some of the restaurants to pick up food orders to deliver for my job.  Then I drove away from the mall in my own junker car to make my deliveries.”

 

“You don’t remember coming here with me or your school friends.”

 

“No, sorry Mom.”

 

 

 

On Sunday morning, I woke up, grateful that I had not wet my bed this time.  I looked in the mirror and I guessed that I was maybe ten or eleven.

 

Sammantha knocked on my door and I greeted her with, “I stayed dry, Mom.”

 

“That’s great, sweety … and I see you’re at the age now with the floppy hair that makes you look so super cute.”

 

“But I still don’t want to be a child, Mom.”

 

“I know.  Today, we’re going to try grilling hamburgers in the back yard of my dad’s house.  Does the name ‘Paul Adams’ or his fishing boat, the ‘Adams Apple’ ring any bells for you?”

 

“Sorry, no.”

 

“That’s okay.  Just try to be polite to him when we go there.  He knows about your water curse, but the three of us haven’t always seen eye to eye.  There’s been some friction.”

 

“You mean he doesn’t think you should be dating a little kid?”

 

“It’s more complicated than that, sweety.  Growing up, my brain was hard-wired to be a boy, but obviously my plumbing didn’t match.  So I accepted being female, but I always wanted to live my life vicariously through the eyes of a little boy … which turned out to be you.”

 

“Ah, so you’re saying you’re not really a child molester?”

 

“God, I hope not.  I like you because you’re a good person.”

 

 

 

When we arrived at her dad’s house, Mr. Adams looked us over, and greeted us at the front door with a very odd welcome.

 

“What is it this time?” he asked.

 

Sammantha replied, “Concussion, Dad … from football … Derrek has amnesia now.”

 

Her dad nodded, and interjected the words, “How thrilling … At least you didn’t swap bodies this time or kill anyone.”

 

(I wondered what he was talking about … swapping bodies? … killing someone? … I decided to keep my mouth shut.)

 

The man added, “Well come on in.  We can start grilling burgers.  You can help if you want to, Derrek.”

 

Then as we entered, he whispered something into his daughter’s ear.  Perhaps he didn’t realize that a ten or eleven year old had a very sharp sense of hearing.  But I definitely heard him say, “Why does that kid always bring you trouble?”

 

I immediately got the feeling that he didn’t like me at all.  As the three of us stood by the grill, he asked, “So, Derrek, you don’t remember seeing me or this house before?”

 

“No, sir … Sorry.”

 

“You don’t remember being on my boat in ‘fresh water’ Lake Erie?”

 

“No, sir … Sorry.”

 

(I was a bit alarmed when he emphasized that Lake Erie was fresh water, since we both knew that that could be dangerous to me … and it was … because I didn’t remember that the lake water age-regressed me from age 28 to 4 … when I briefly occupied Sammantha’s female body.)

 

“Are you still going to go to school tomorrow, Derrek?” he followed up.

 

“Yes, sir.  Mom says it might help bring back my memories.”

 

“You’re still calling Sammantha ‘Mom’?”

 

“Yes, sir.  She says I should continue following my routines.  Mom says she’s a clinical psychologist.”

 

“Yes, Derrek.  I’m aware of that.”

 

The dinner conversation did not improve.  I answered a few more of his questions with ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’ and then we left his house.

 

In the car, Sammantha noted, “Sorry that was so tense, sweety.”

 

“Mom, I don’t think your dad likes me.  I wouldn’t ask in there, but did you kill someone and then swap the bodies?”

 

“Derrek,  just understand that it was done in self defense and that the person who died was very evil.”

 

“You didn’t kill a little boy?”

 

“No, of course not.  As you regain your memory, you’ll know more details.”

 

“Okay.”

 

By Sunday night, I was back to age twelve, and Sammantha added one teaspoon of tap water on my arm to keep me at that age for the next day, Monday … my first day of school with amnesia.

 

I was damn scared that I might get arrested for embedding myself with children.  I was afraid all the little animals would be staring and pointing at me, thinking ‘look at the freak’ … the little man with the very small penis.

 

On Monday morning, Sammantha made me breakfast, handed me my Chromebook laptop, and wished me good luck as she ushered me off to our apartment bus stop at the front gate.  All my instincts told me that it was wrong for a grown man to do what I was about to do … go to school with kids.

 

When I walked up the three steps in the bus, plenty of them greeted me with, “Hi Derrek.  How are you feeling?”

 

“I nervously replied, “Hello, children.”

 

 

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