"Are we there yet?" Evil said, gazing at each house hopefully before glancing at the back of Flippy's head. "I need a bag of ice to put on my head, I don't know what hit me but it feels like it was a truck. Flip, did you get the license plate number?"

"Evil, just keep walking. There was no truck, you must've hit your head or something and that's what caused you to lose some of your memories." Flippy replied, sighing to himself.

"Are you sure?"

"Was there a truck inside Sniffles' lab when you were there?"

"No,"

"I rest my case." He stated triumphantly.

"Where is everyone?" Evil asked.

"Well, most of them are on a camping trip, but some of them are just trying not to die for once."

"Die . . . " He echoed. His yellow eyes got distant, there was a sinister glint, but it faded and he collapsed, the bag falling from his paws.

The sound of his darker side falling made Flippy turn around, he gasped and kneeled beside the fallen bear. "Evil, what happened, hey, Evil!" He shouted, shaking the unconscious male, but to no avail.

With a growl he shook his head. "What the hell just happened? Now what? I'm not carrying him home, I can't, he's too heavy." He tried to act unconcerned, but knew he couldn't leave Evil out in the sun for whatever length of time he might stay unconscious.

"Ugh, I would have to do something like this." He grumbled, trying to maneuver his reflection's unconscious body. He lifted him up, easing the male over his shoulder before walking forward a step. "You're pretty heavy, E." He said with a grunt. He reached down and picked the baggie with the broken glass up. "Small blessing you didn't fall on top of this, you would've gotten skewered." He noted.

Flippy tried to hurry, but he had to keep readjusting his doppelganger whenever his shoulder started to throb. It felt like three hours but it was only half an hour before he was home. He practically kicked the door down in his haste before setting Evil on his bed.

"He's still out, this might be bad." Think Flippy, what caused this? He was fine, although his head was hurti- "That's it!" He said, he got up and started digging through his stuff. "Where is it, where could it be?"

Finally he came across a dusty book with a red cross on its cover. "Yes!" He declared and started scanning the index. "Wounds, shock, artificial respiration, poisoning, ah, here it is, injuries to bones, joints, and muscles! Chapter four."

Amnesia resulting from head trauma

Amnesia following violent but non-penetrating head trauma, also called a "closed-head injury," is common and reasonably well understood.

Typically the victim suffers one of two types of memory defect: a. retrograde amnesia, forgetting pretrauma events, and b. anterograde amnesia, not retaining what's happening now.

Retrograde amnesia is thought to be a failure of the brain's ability to playback past memories-the memories are still in there, but amnesiacs can't access them. Considering said amnesiac doesn't know what they're looking for in the first place, there is no point in overwhelming them with too much of their life history. Doing so may cause them to shut out any thoughts of their past, putting them in a stasis until they decide to continue on with their healing.

The amount of time the memories are rendered inaccessible can range from minutes to years. Some amnesiacs remember personal information but not public events, though more often it's the other way around.

Anterograde amnesia, by contrast, is a failure of the recording mechanism-new information never gets stored away and is lost, much to the confusion of the amnesiacs. Memories that don't get recorded are gone for good, but it's possible to get lost pretrauma memories back . . .

Flippy continued reading, but soon shut the book. He turned and gazed at Evil, who was tossing and turning in his sleep. He remembers the things I've told him, he knew who I was, so it must be retrograde amnesia. It also said that headaches were prominent after amnesia in most people. So that's why he feels so bad. He went over, sitting beside the unconscious bear. I wonder if he's dreaming, or maybe he's so unconscious he doesn't even know it.

A very faint knocking sounded out, someone was at the door. "Who could that be?" He wondered.

He opened it and saw an extremely nervous red porcupine. "Flaky," He said with a smile.

"Ehh, I'm s-so s-s-sorry for running off, Flippy. I just got s-sc-scared." She said.

"It's alright Flaky, I know you're afraid of Evil."

"W-where is he?" She glanced about nervously as though expecting the dreaded bear to leap out and murder her at any moment.

"He's passed out, I found out that he has retrograde amnesia."

"Huh, I know what normal amnesia is, but what's retrograde?" She asked.

Flippy began explaining.

While he was talking, Evil began tossing and turning, a nightmare had him in its grasp.

He was sitting in a room, tied to a chair, surrounded by angry tigers that were wearing military uniforms and hissing at him.

"So, you murdering beast, you've returned." The head tiger said. All the others were baring their teeth viciously.

"What are you talking about? I haven't killed anyone." Evil cried out, but he couldn't continue due to the fact one of the tigers ran forward and cuffed him upside the head.

"Lies!" The general screamed. "You kill people, your enemies,"

Evil winced as he saw himself slaughtering tiger after tiger on the battle field.

"your friends,"

Another memory, he was gutting a yellow rabbit, then he used the rabbit's intestines to strangle a pink chipmunk. He saw himself slamming a blue Skunk's face onto a hot stove top and then laugh.

"No!"

"And you've even kill yourself."

He saw himself tear Flippy limb from limb, stab him over and over, rip his face apart.

Evil shrieked in fear. He screamed and screamed.

And then he woke up, still screaming. He rolled over, fell onto the floor and screamed. Then he whimpered, he didn't know where he was . . . "Flippy?" He called.

No response.

His panic rising he shrieked. "FLIPPY!"

The good green bear was at his side in an instant. "Evil, what's wrong? Why were you screaming?"

"I . . . I had a bad dream. There were these tigers."

Flippy's eyes widened. The tigers! Oh, he's remembering some.

Evil continued, "And they tied me to a chair and kept telling me that I was a murderer who killed everyone; my enemies, my friends, my . . . self." There was no tears, at least not until the last bit, then Evil started crying. When he could speak again he asked, "That's not true, right?"

Should I lie? "Look, there are things you have done that weren't right."

Evil looked devastated.

"But you did good too, those tigers were the enemy, and you won the war by killing them. You're a hero."

"W-what did I do that was bad?"

Flippy froze. "I-I'd rather not say."

Evil's eyes widened, he suddenly saw blood; blood everywhere, his entire body was covered in blood, even his fur was soaked crimson with blood.

He felt queasy, suddenly, with a sickened gasp he ran to the bathroom, bolted the door and threw up.


Evil's nauseated by the memories of his past deeds.

Even worse, he's hallucinating now.