I was tinkering with Dr. Flavour's latest invention, the Winkmaster Mindwiper 4000, when something went horribly wrong. At least the Fakie log indicates that something went wrong--I have no memory of the incident, or anything prior to 11:30 last night. It seems that the mindwiper went off unexpectedly, catching me in its memory-erasing gammatron pulse.
I woke up this morning in a cloud of unknowing. Who am I? Where am I? What the heck is a "fakiegrind", and who is the pervasive avatar known as Gyrobo? What, for that matter, is an avatar?! It's all gone, vanished--or perhaps hidden behind some kind of interference pattern.
I wonder if the effect will wear off eventually. Thank Neil Diamond for the blog, because without it I would have no idea about who or what I am. I've read through most of the posts, and it appears that I'm a secret agent of some kind, disguising myself as an unemployed bum in the north end of Steeltown. There seems to be some kind of sinister plot afoot involving hypnotists, robots, retired Canadian super heros and the Dairy Farmers of Canada--but it's all so complicated!
Maybe it's time to turn a new leaf, start over, take up a whole new hobby, or perhaps enroll in one of those home school courses for small appliance repair. Losing my memory could be a golden opportunity for renewal, but I'm worried that shadows of my past might yet haunt me as I attempt to break new ground. What, for instance, is an ollie impossible?
Picking out a new identity at the Dept. H cosmetic surgery ward.