In which memories come back.


    Feathers arrived at the Potato Den dragging his scaled feet, claws screeching in lazy protest all the way. His ear canals were ringing and his brain was still struggling to understand the true shape of an “?aa!@g)+os{P?”, whatever it was.


    If human Sunday school was tedious, Karnakian Sunday school was chaos.


    “Youlooklikeshit.” Said Noodle glancing from his heatbed, still reading his tablet.


    “I feel like shit.” Said Feathers as he let himself drop over his bed, too tired to be rid of his jumpsuit.


    “Hadanosherfunday,eh?”


    “Urgh…” Feathers gave up on life, closing his front eyes to let the sweet embrance of oblivion take him at last, all his feathers limping down at once. Noodle always found it fascinating how Feathers’ second pair of eyes remained open at all times, shining in the dark, observing beyond. “…If they ask, I’m dead.”A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    “Ok.I’lltellshem…Paul.”


    Feathers’ headache was abruptly put on background.


    “What did you just call me?” Said he, focusing for the first time on his serpentine roommate.


    “Paul.” Said Noodle, stoic.


    Feathers’ face tried to contort to the equivalent of a Karnakian’s confounded expression, giving Noodle an internal chuckle. “That’s…My name.” Said Feathers, the memory reignited after so long. “How-?”


    “Ikeptnotesh.” Noodle showed him his tablet with an “I’m that good, bro” expression, which transformed into “oh shit” when Feathers immediately sprung back to life and lunged forward.


    “Let me see that!” Feathers swiftly took the tablet before Noodle could protest.


    “Youbetternoterasheany-“


    “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. I got this!”


    There was an awkward pause as Feathers quickread the journal’s entries while Noodle anxiously looked by his shoulder. Then, after a while, Feathers turned to his friend with the shiniest puppy eyes Noodle had ever seen.


    “My God, Cecil.” Said Paul, memories long gone taking their rightful place for another moment. “You even recorded the day I got covered in glue, you bastard!”


    “Hishtorymushbepresherved.” Beamed Cecil in pride.


    Thus begun a trip down memory lane.