Your memories are getting fuzzy. College graduation is a long forgotten memory. A man enters smirking, he looks kind of like your bud Vinnie DiRomo, maybe it's his father.
"So you remember me, punk?"
"I doubt it," says the woman operating the controls and powering down the equipment, "I'd say he has only his first ten years of memory left, but I stopped the eraser, so you can talk to him."
"Oh, too bad punk, you don't remember kicking me in the balls in high school. Row jam bow, indeed! You know I cannot have kids now, thanks to you. My wife wants a kid, so I figure you owe me. Hehehe! Okay, turn it back on, and get me a copy of his memories on cd, thanks."
And he traipsed out. She turned the machine back on.
High school? Was that Vinnie?