Wednesday, October 4, 2017

Don’t You Remember…?

Fiction Short Story
A Spoof

“What are you doing here…?” the man says to the woman standing above him.

“This is my house…” the woman says.

“Oh My God…!!! How did I get here…?” the man exclaims.

“Don’t you remember…?” the woman says.

The man recognizes the woman – his wife has nicknamed the woman “Plain Jane” – because – that’s how she looks – “PLAIN”.  

He has seen the “middle-aged” woman many times during his walks on the walking track – and – on a number of occasions in the shopping complex of his residential township.

Like it happens in large “gated community” townships – he knows that the woman lives in the same residential complex – but – he does not know where exactly she lives – nor does he know her name.

In the “highfalutin” residential society where the man lives – one does not talk to “strangers” – and – even with neighbours – it is a “hail fellow well met” type of relationship – and sometimes – even a polite smile of greeting is met with a stern glare or a grim frown.

So – all he knows about the woman is that she lives in the same residential complex.  

Then man is in a confused state – lying in a strange bed – all covered up with blankets – he feels terrible – his head aches – his vision is hazy – and his tongue feels dry.

The excruciating effects of the “excesses” of the previous night have still not subsided – and – the man has a terrible hangover.

“How did I get here…?” the man asks the woman.

“Don’t you remember…?” she says.

“No – I don’t remember anything…” the man says.

“Well – I was watching TV – and I heard some noise at the entrance door – so – I opened the door – and I saw that you were trying open the door with your key…”

“Oh My God…”

“Well – you were in quite a “good” mood – in “high” spirits – so – I let you in…”  

“Oh My God…!!! Was I drunk…?”

“Well – you were certainly feeling pretty “nice”…”

“But – how did I come here – to your house…?”

“Don’t you remember…?”

“No – I don’t remember anything…”

“But surely – you must remember something about last night…”

“All I remember is – that – in the evening – I dropped my wife at the airport – then – I drove down to my club for a couple of drinks and dinner – and – the last thing I remember is that I was drinking in the club bar…”

“Oh – you must have had a “blackout”…”


“Yes – “alcoholic blackout” – temporary amnesia – that’s why you don’t remember what you did…”

“But – how did I come here – to your house…?”

“Where do you live…?”

“In “XXX” Township – C Building – on the 9th Floor – Apartment “C 901”…”

“At least you have come to right building – this is Apartment No. “C 601” – exactly three floors below your apartment…”


“You must have pressed the wrong button – or – the lift may have stopped on this floor – and you got out and walked straight towards what you thought is your apartment…”

“I am very sorry – please don’t report me for trespassing. I will be in big trouble…”

“Why should I report you…? And – don’t be sorry – in fact – I am so happy you came here…”

“How can you be happy…? I barged into your house in a drunken state…”

“Yes – you were pretty “high”…”

“I was drunk – I must have been terrible. I am sorry if I behaved rudely…”

“Rudely…? Not at all…!!! On the contrary – you were so loving and affectionate…”

“Loving…? Affectionate…?”

“Yes – you were very amusing – we really had a lot of fun…”


“Oh yes – you were so charming – it was a wonderful night – we really had a “good time”…”

“Good time…?”

“Yes – I really had a “good time” with you. I feel so lonely – living all alone – the nights are especially miserable – but last night was wonderful – all because of you…”

“Because of me…?”  

 “Yes – we had a marvelous time together – it was a most memorable night – those “intimate” moments we had together – I will cherish forever…”

“Intimate moments…?”

“Don’t you remember – all the things you said to me – you did to me…?”

“What did I do to you…?”

“You were so romantic – so passionate. Don’t you remember…?”

“Romantic…!!! Passionate…?”

“The way you kissed me – no one has ever kissed me like that before – in fact – no one has ever kissed me before – it was my first kiss…”

“Oh My God…!!! I kissed you…?”

“Don’t you remember…?”


“But – I will always remember…” the woman says lovingly.

Inside his head – the man’s brain begins to spin – like a vortex.

He does not remember anything.

He thinks to himself: “Is it really possible – that he kissed this “Plain Jane” – this most ordinary looking woman…?”

The man looks at the woman – she looks so unappealing – so uninviting – how could he have kissed her…?

There is no one else around – so – it seems that this “middle-aged” woman lives alone – all by herself.

Maybe she is a “spinster” – living a lonesome and forlorn life – and her loneliness is making her imagination run wild with erotic thoughts.

The man looks at the woman.

She is looking at him – straight into his eyes – she has a hungry look.

The man feels uneasy in her presence – he wants to get out of this place fast – and go home.

Though his head is still dizzy due to his terrible hangover – and he is feeling a bit giddy – the man tries to get up from under the blanket – and suddenly – he realizes that – he is naked under the blanket – stark naked.  

In a panic-stricken voice – the man asks the woman: 

“Where are my clothes…?”

“In the washing machine…” the woman says, “but don’t worry – they are almost done – and – I will have all your clothes dried quickly in the drier…”  

“But – who took off my clothes…” the man says, in panic.

The woman looks at the man – and she says to him:

“Don’t you remember…? Do you really not remember what happened last night…?” 

Copyright © Vikram Karve 
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© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

1. This story is a fictional spoof, satire, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.
2. All Stories in this Blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the stories are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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