My Inexplicably Incredible Memory

I have an impeccable knack for remembering things and the associations that go along with them.

Whenever someone mentions MAD magazine, I can't help but see the art room at Marshall Middle School in this distinctive late-summer, late-afternoon light. Our art teacher - either a stout woman named Mrs. Schmartclass or a pony-tailed guy named Gary - was either a big fan of MAD or took mine away from me. Also, there was a kiln there that we were not allowed to touch, and I think some paints that we were.

When I was a very young boy, my parents took me to have my fortune told. I remember everything about that night, especially the way in which my fortune was revealed to me: baked inside a cookie after a meal of exotic food! That was the night I also received several lucky numbers, one of which either had a 4 in it or was divisible by 4.

Speaking of numbers, check this out: 5, 3, 8, 8. Those are just some of the numbers I've had to keep in my head at various times, for various reasons.

I remember there being a whole, whole lot of blood. That might not sound like a great memory, but you should see how clearly I can see the blood in my head. (I'm actually kind of worried about why I don't have any more details on this particular memory. I remember it being hog slaughtering time at my uncle's farm, which reassures me... but then I also wonder if that wasn't the year I wasn't able to make it to the hog slaughter because God told me I had to watch the whores.)

Oh, I forgot to write what my fortune was!