Ash's Freaky Family!

Asher's darkest day.

Asher's heart was thumping in his chest. His mind was wandering every which way. His tongue clicked on his pallet in anticipation. He'd never gone this far. Why was he here? Why did it have to come to this? 2 words. No. Clue.

But he couldn't back out now. Asher is no whimp.

But even Hercules can get nervous. Or so Asher assumed. He never really payed much attention in his AP social studies class.

Asher was shaking as if we was on the Batman themed ride at 6 flags. If only...

An older man shoved a tall glass filled with a clear liquid into Asher's palms.

Not water. Vodka, possibly. It smelled like it...

Asher sighed. Grunted. He needed new friends. Friends like Ash's. Good people. Caring friends. Though Ash's friends didn't seem so to the naked eye, they secretly cared, the slightest bit, in the least.

Some cared more then others in what seemed to be a random order from least to most caring in comparison to their personalities.

Asher's chums on the other hand couldn't care less what happened to their "buddy". And they were willing to put his life on the line to get a quick laugh out of it, demolition fatal or not.

As Asher took the glass into his clammy, sweaty grasp, his hand shook, spilling some liquid into a cut on his thumb from chewing at it in anxiety. The cut tingled acutely for a mere moment until the boy was struck with severe pain in the exact spot.

Yup. Definitely not water.

This had to be some sort of strong alcohol. And nonetheless, Asher would be force to drink it, strong or weak, alcohol or soda pop, sterile or toxic...

Asher lifted the seemingly vibrating glass to his lips, before tilting it back for a taste, he gazed at the leader of his gang of friends for a nod of approval which was given without haste.

Asher chugged the drink. His stomach churned. And his vision turned to a set of smears that resembled a pre-K finger painting.

Next thing he knew, he was set before a leather textured distorted circle. He heard a rumbling, humming noise that greatly resembled himself in the morning, in all honesty.

Then there was movement. And the movement became adjacent to the movement of his hands.

"Imma sooopaaaaheerrow...!" he slurred. "Whoopee!"

Suddenly, he was engulfed in completely darkness as his head fell forward, creating an odd honking noise. Like that of a...

...

Asher soon awoke. His head hurt like hell and he couldn't move. He looked down at himself to see himself mummified along the torso with a hospital bandage. He grunted in agony as the pain set in.

A man entered the room. An unfamiliar man with whitish gray hair and a stethoscope hanging around his neck. One may guess his profession from this alone, yet Asher had also found the convenient placement of a name tag on his lab coat writing "Dr. Brown".

The man pulled up a stool beside Asher's bed.

"Where am I?" Asher grunted, getting straight to the point.

The man smiled weakly at Asher. "You are at the hospital, dear boy. And do you know why?"

Asher shook his head, trying his best to cross his soar and aching arms.

The man placed a hand on Asher's shoulder. "You were found driving drunk. Your car was crashed in a tree."

Asher's eyes widened. He didn't drink. He strictly prohibited drinking. Ash would kill him if he was ever drunk. Which, apparently, he was. "What?!"