Slurpees and Hash

Me and Brandon, Manitoba have a little history. Mostly because of my cousin, who is the reason i no longer wear diapers. I used to hang out with him, and because we were only about 15 and 13 respectively, we just walked around a lot, and went to rent video games, and buy slurpees, and occasionally go to his dealer friends house, so that i could put on his electric glove that he plugged into the socket and zapped stuff around the room. It was one of these time in winter, me with a cherry slurpee, and us walking around minding our own business, when an ugly puke green van turns the corner a little too sharp, slides out a little, and runs into me as i'm walking on the curb. My slurpee flies up in the air and lands on the guys windshield, and he slams on his breaks. He was freakin out, 'cause he thought the cherry slurpee was blood mixed with all the slush on his windshield, and he comes up to me lying on the ground. His side mirror was busted where i had rolled of the side. He gets out and is really panicky. He asks me if i'm okay, and i couldn't really breathe, so i just nodded. Then he asked me if i wanted some Hash. I couldn't breathe, let alone smoke, so i shook my head. My cousin, however, said yes, and the two of them sat in the back of the van while i lay on the sidewalk until i could stand up straight again. It all happened kinda fast, but you'd think he would have at least given me some money or something...cheap ass Brandon Hash Man.
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