After the robotic statue incident, I spent years trying to get my friend back for the mental anguish that he had inflicted upon me. The trick to a good April Fools prank is to make the lie something completely ridiculous, but somehow believable. So ridiculous that the person doesn't even get angry at you, just depressed that they had even gone along with it. Like gaslighting, but with a punch line. To get good at telling these kinds of lies, you have to study the classics. The founding text of the church of Scientology is a book called Dianetics, written by the eccentric sci-fi author L. Ron Hubbard. For a religion that believes in dark ancient alien lords and soul-sucking spaceships, Dianetics is an astonishingly boring book. It's written like a science textbook, except the "science" is bullshit, so you don't even feel like you're getting anything back for all the effort you're putting into keeping your damn eyes open. I got one chapter in and called it quits. My friend wasn't an aging movie star, so he wasn't going to fall for it.

Dianetics discusses how to rid people of the negative influences of their pasts and make them "clear". Apparently, people who are "clear" can revisit any memory at will and recall it in perfect clarity, with perfect sensory detail. Sight, Sound, Smell, everything. I couldn't help but think that if this perfect recall is all the Scientologists are after, they should just ask any woman I'd ever argued with how they acquired it. Seriously, those girls were so "clear" that they would not even entertain the notion that their version of events was not the total, objective truth.

When I first read about perfect recall, I didn't think it was possible, let alone that I would ever experience it myself, and absolutely not because of some alien mushrooms. And yet, that's exactly what happened.

The first memory was a college throwback, a wild night out with the boys. It was the first week of school, so nobody had any homework or responsibilities yet, thus making it the ideal time to get hammered. With perfect clarity, I watched myself down beer after beer, take shot after shot, and throw in a few keg stands for good measure. I'd tell you how many it took to tranquilize me, but I'm not proud of it. The party continued until the end of the night, when the sky was just barely starting to get brighter. I staggered out, promising a few treasured bros that we would cherish these moments for the rest of our lives. But I made a wrong turn when I was walking back to my dorm room, and I just... kept going. Past gas stations and drive-throughs, into a residential zone, to my final resting spot: a children's playground.

Holy shit... am I about to see every blacked-out memory that I have?

I fell on my back and vomited all over myself. After a few tense minutes of choking, gargling, and wrestling Genghis Khan's ghost, I remembered my college's orientation course on drinking and turned onto my side. I hacked out some yuck, resumed steady breathing, and rewarded myself by falling asleep. Seeing it all again, I was appalled.

One of the lowest points of my life... could have been so much WORSE.

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Suddenly, I appeared at another house party. I must've fully recovered from the playground incident because I was putting away piss beer with just as much conviction as before. After a few hours of this, I staggered out, then walked across campus to the convenience store, bought... yeah... the tuna fish sandwich and then back to my room. My roommate was drunk as well, and after a pathetic attempt at tucking me in, he turned around and booted all over my laptop.

"Oh shit... my bad." he slurred, turning around, but I was already falling asleep.

That motherfucker...

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The scene shifted again, and I was sitting on a bar stool, chatting it up with a pretty girl.

Jennifer.

She was the only girl I dated in college. We didn't get that far, this was our third and final date, before...

"Excuse me, I've gotta go use the bathroom." I said.

"You got it boss." said Dustin, clapping me on the shoulder. This was a guy I'd recently met in a class and hit it off with. We'd run into him at the bar and were trying to help him build up the nerve to talk to some of the girls.

Looking back at the memory, I was apprehensive and confused. I knew that the date went horribly wrong, but I couldn't remember anything that had actually happened. I assumed that I said something offensive, got depressed when she left, and decided to drink until I was happy again. Pro tip: that never works.

I walked to the bathroom, hosed down the urinal, and walked back to the bar, but while I was gone the mood had changed. Dustin and Jennifer were talking intently, but they hushed as I approached.

"What's up? That sounded pretty intense." I asked.

"Brad..." Jennifer began hesitantly, "Did you put anything in my drink?"

"Wha- no!" I started, "What made you-"

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"Dustin said he saw you put something in my drink."

"Well I didn't!"

"Why don't you try some of her drink, then?" suggested Dustin.

"Why the fuck not?!" I answered angrily. I swiped up her drink and downed the whole thing. "See? Perfectly fine!"

"Let me see your pockets," he suggested innocently. "While we wait. If you don't mind. Oh yeah... did you explain to Jennifer that you're a registered sex offender yet?"

Jennifer gasped.

"No, but that's-"

"You're supposed to do that, Brad. Like you did on the first day of class. It's the law."

"I was going to! It's really not a big deal!" I said as I turned my pockets out. "See, nothing there! Phone… wallet… what the-" A small plastic bag had somehow, impossibly, turned up in the search. I opened the bag and a couple of white pills fell out.

Oh no.

"What are those, Brad?" he asked pointedly.

"I-I don't know where the fuck these came from!"

Jennifer ran out of the bar, crying.

"Jennifer, wait-"

"Just let her go man. Don't worry, I won't snitch about this, just stay good and far away from her, okay?"

"You... motherfucker."

He smirked. "You'd better leave now. You've got about 15 minutes to find a bed before you're out for the count."

I badly wanted to deck him across his fat fucking head. But he was right. "Soon as I sleep this shit off, I'll fucking kill you." I replied, glaring at him as I turned to leave.

"No," he responded smoothly, "I don't think you will."

Jennifer didn't speak to me, or text me after that. What she did do was report me to the university, go to the police, and systematically fuck my closest friends, including Dustin. The case got thrown out for lack of evidence, and I was free to complete my degree, but it wasn't pleasant: I got lots of dirty looks as I was walking around. Lots of people stopped speaking to me. The few that remained were probably only hanging on so that Jennifer would go after them. Thank god I was already a senior; another year of that would have broken me.

But now, looking back... I almost don't blame her...

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The scene changed again and finally, it was time to see how I got transported to another world.

This is the memory I had been anticipating most, but after sitting through the rest of the fuck-shit, I just wanted to go home.

Please... no more nasty discoveries.

I was at another bar, waiting for Derek, an old high school friend, to show up. I'd chosen to sit at a booth this time; nobody was trying to hit on anything tonight.

As I waited, I was remaking my dating bio for the umpteenth time, making sure it properly captured my innocent charm:

Brad, 31

6'3, Pisces.

Emotions are a game. If you have them, you lose. Let's fuck.

I thought that hit the right notes. If only these trigger-happy bitches would stop banning my account...

"Dude... this kind of shit is why you're still single."

I glanced over my shoulder. Derek was leaning over, reading off my screen. I cracked a grin.

"Good for me. Is your divorce all wrapped up yet?"

"Buddy, do I have a fucking story for you..."

We sat for a while chatting and drinking, drinking and chatting, and before we both knew it, we were shitfaced.

"...let me hear you say it. I wanna hear you say it." Derek jeered.

"Hi, my name is Bradley Razzetti, and I am required by federal law to inform you that I am a registered sex offender."

A couple of bystanders shot a look at me, but in my stupor I didn't notice.

"Damn, that sounded pretty smooth," Derek snorted, "You must've had a lot of practice saying it."

"I honestly don't care much anymore. People usually understand when I tell them what I did."

Derek goggled at me. "You actually tell people that a police officer caught you pissing at a playground?"

"Absolutely. Yes, it was fucking stupid, but it's way better than what they might think I did. Besides, there weren't any kids on the playground. I don't know what that policeman's deal was, ruining a dumb kid's life on a technicality."

I know for a fact that I told Dustin this as well, on that first day in class... what the fuck was he doing...

"They cut the tracker off your leg yet?" Derek taunted.

"I never had a fucking tracker, asshole! You know that. But it's been about ten years, so I might look into getting my name taken off the list."

"What if they don't?"

I threw my hands up. "Then I guess I'll just have to hope that a portal opens up and I can warp to some other world where they let sex offenders like me roam free."

Derek laughed. "You seem like you've given this some thought."

"Yeah," I shrugged, suddenly melancholic, "shit's bad over here man. I'm getting older. I want a family. But I can't fucking have one."

"Why not?"

"You tell me, bro. What are your child support payments? Two grand a month?"

"...something like that." Derek looked down, suddenly losing his mojo.

"Well, get used to it. Eighteen years, man. Eighteen years. You at least got a paternity test, right?"

Derek looked up sharply. "Didn't need one. The baby kinda looks like me, and Sara wouldn't lie about something like that."

"That's not the point. I liked Sara when I met her. She seemed nice, smart, and devoted to you. Not the kind of person who would leave you right after bearing your first child because the 'spark' was gone, like marriage is magic and fairies instead of work and struggle. But clearly I didn't know what the fuck was going through her head, and neither do you."

"Wow, you're so enlightened bro. You must have an amazing marriage to be telling me all that."

It was my turn to back down. "...forget it. I don't think this is a problem that we're gonna resolve right now."

"Clock's ticking, man."

I checked the time my phone. "Yes, it is. Let's find a different spot, the people here are starting to realize that we're douchebags."

We left the bar and wandered down a back alley.

"Is this the way to the shitty place?" asked Derek.

"Fuck yeah, two dollar Pabst, let's goooooooo!"

As we walked down the alley, I noticed something out of place. In between two dumpsters, right up against the wall of a building, a light blue hologram was floating about an inch off the ground. It was rectangular, about the size of a doorway.

"Am I really really drunk, or is that the portal you were talking about?" Derek snorted.

"Both, brah. This here is my stop." I walked right up to it and grinned. "Been nice knowing you, man. Make sure your kid learns that his mom is a fucking cunt."

Derek laughed. I moved forward, fully expecting to face-plant right into the wall, praying that the joke would be worth the impact. Instead, I phased through the hologram and fell forward into... nothing.

Before the total and complete darkness enveloped me, I caught one final, fleeting sensation of my siblings.

My family... am I ever going to see them again?