Saturday Night Jail Cell

Waking up to pungent smells induced throbbing and pain to my head. I attempted to get up but only managed to make noises. “Ughhhhhhhhh,” I groaned, “Where are we, Jake?” “Fred, I don’t know, man. I think we are in jail.” In jail? What for? As I try to remember, my head feels as if a tornado had just plowed through. “You guys were drinking and driving way over the limit,” some unknown voice yelled. Drinking? Me? I would never drink in my life. Our school was always adamant about not doing drugs or alcohol, especially for their athletes. We both were prominent members of the football team. We were always the good kids: good grades, sleeping early, never causing any trouble for our folks. Well, until now, I guess. How did it turn out like this? Whose party were we driving back from? How long have we been here? “Oh crap,” I said as I flung up from my bench, taking the chance to glance around the room. “My dad is going to be pissed.” Freddy’s pale hung over face was even whiter than before but he was too drunk out of his mind to care. He quickly fell back asleep, clutching his head as if there was a loud siren blaring. I quickly stumble to check my phone, only to then realize that it was not on me. I slump down in my seat and give up. There is nothing I can do now. What is done is done. Now I can only face the consequences. Hopefully, I used my call on my mom to bail us out. She is always the cool one. A voice chuckled in the corner. I looked up, not noticing him before. From my angle, he looked like a short and disheveled man who had just woken up from my outburst. “How nice it must be to be young,” his voice croaked. He slowly turned around to face the both of us. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped as I strangely recognized the facial structure. “Dad?” I asked with uncertainty in my voice. His face grew pale even though he looked confused. Everything looked similar to this man. But it couldn’t be my father. My father would never wear these ripped up clothes, or have his beard last longer than one morning. Maybe I am as drunk as Jake. I am hallucinating that this man here is my father for crying out loud. We stared at each for what seems like forever. Just as I was about to speak, his doppelganger appeared before us, as angry as ever. “Fred, what on earth do you think you are doing?” he furiously demanded. There was no doubt that this man was my father, but then why is there a man who looks exactly like him in the same cell as me? The unkempt man stood up and grinned. He was as tall, if not taller than my father, which surprised me. “Long time no see, John,” the mysterious man says disgustedly to my father.