Lost memory

I banged my head against the wall in despair. I had done it again. I had messed up everything....
I rubbed my sore head as I gazed out the window at the floating snow. It looked so fresh and white and clean in brilliant contrast to the deep green of the pine trees. I stared at the pretty scene with a smile slowly curving my lips. No! I cried inside of myself. I must not get distracted!
I tried to focus back on my problems. After all, I had done it again.
Done what again?
I rubbed my head slightly confused. That whack from the wall had driven the memory straight from my brain!
I gasped in dismay. Who was I? Where was I? Why was I here?
A tall young woman entered the room and said, "Jeremy, what is this I see?" she held up a slip of paper, her eyes narrowing into slits with anger.
"I don't remember," I choked. Was my name Jeremy?
"Don't remember?" the woman said sarcastically. "You're not going to get out of this that easily!"
"But really! I have amnesia!" I don't know how that word managed to stick in my mind, but it did. Perhaps my memory was returning?
"Amnesia!" the young woman said sharply. "Cut it out! I'm being serious!"
"So am I! I don't even know who you are!" I persisted.
"Jeremy Greg Flipper!" the young woman said sternly, her hands on her hips.
"Oh, hello, Jeremy," I said politely.
"What?" the woman's face was slightly confused. She couldn't tell if I was mocking her or not.
"Sorry, I thought that's what you said your name was," I confessed. I gulped hard. The woman was very angry now. She opened her mouth to scold me, but changed her mind and left the room in stormy silence.
Uh, oh. What should I do now? I was stuck here, completely unable to recall any scrap of information, except for the name of the disease I had. Or was it a disease? I couldn't remember.
I wandered around the room, and felt the couch, the shelves, and everything, trying to remember them. I flopped on the couch at last, stretching my long frame across the cushions, and shook my head in dismay. Nothing was returning to my mind. I groaned, and closed my eyes.
The next thing I knew, I was just waking up from a long, refreshing sleep. I sat up and yawned. It was then that I became aware of a shadowy figure in the doorway of the room. It was the shape of a man; a man who was staring intently at me. I rubbed my eyes and he became clearer. It was very dark, and I knew that it was after dinner, because the faint scent of meatloaf still lingered in the air.
"What do you want?" I asked the man in the shaky voice of one just awoken.
"Jeremy, I heard you were giving your mom some trouble earlier," the man said, coming into the room and sitting beside me on the couch.
"She's my mom, then," I said softly to myself. The man overheard me, and I saw his eyes glaring in annoyance.
"Of course she's your mom; who else would she be?" he said sarcastically. Sarcasm. The woman - mom - had that problem too. They must be related.
"Who are you?" I asked curiously.
"What?" the man said in surprise.
"I knew your name once; what is it?"
"Jeremy Greg Flipper!" the man said sternly.
"No, that's mom's name," I said and then stopped. Why had they both said that name? It must be of importance.
The man was furious now. "Look! We just want to know why your grades when down on your school record! Why do you have to act so stupid?"
"Because I am stupid?" I asked hopefully.
The man stood up and looked at me. He opened his mouth to yell, but changed his mind, and stormed out of the room in angry silence.
Great! I was doing just great! Sarcasm, I realised with a start. I must be related to the two strangers here. One was called mom, and the other - dad? That sounded right, I reasoned.

I slept on the couch that night. When I awoke, light was streaming through the window. My head was aching dreadfully. I rolled off the couch and stood up slowly, rubbing my eyes. It was to my undoing. I couldn't see where I was going, and walked right into the wall, banging my head pretty hard. The amazing thing happened; I could remember things!
I stood stunned for a moment, before deciding to try an experiment. If I banged my head again, would the memory leave it? I banged the side of my head against the wall. Nothing happened. Maybe I didn't bang it right. I banged my forehead against the wall. I was plunged once more into a haze in which only the most recent occurrence was remember-able.
Then I banged my head again and remembered everything. What was going on?
I reached up timidly to my forehead, and pressed hard against it with my hand. Poof! went my memory. So I didn't have to go banging it all the time; that was useful to know. Hopefully I could remember that when my memory was gone. I pressed my memory back into my head and chuckled to myself. I must be dreaming.
I sat down at the breakfast table to eat. Mom and dad were already there, eating in stony silence. I grinned cheerfully at them, and tried explaining my discovery, but they only stared blankly at me. At last mom said,
"Jeremy, really! You're too old for these games!"
That shut me up for the rest of the meal. I was too old for those sorts of games. But what happens when "those sorts of games" become reality? I needed to think things over.

School went just as it always did. I sat down in my history class and stared at the test before me. It was full of hard names and dates. I pressed twice on my forehead, once to erase my memory, and twice to make it all return to its strongest capacity. I A-ced the test.
No one would believe me when I tried to tell them about it, and so I didn't bother telling them any more.
A couple weeks passed and I was able to discover more about my hidden ability. When I erased my memory and brought it back within seconds, my memory was always stronger than before. While in my state of no-memory, I could remember the last phrase, or action done before I was plunged in the state. It was thus that I could remember how to bring back my memory.
If I failed to bring my memory back after erasing it for more than five minutes, I forgot how to bring it back, and would go thrashing in the difficulty of a lost memory until I accidently banged my head, or pressed my forehead in my hands.
It was tricky, but I was getting used to it.

To be continued in another section.....

P.S. No, it is not your imagination; this story is the corniest I've done yet. But as always, it results from overloading my brain with school.... :P