Today on Microdosing our prompt SHOT!
Write a story in 80 words!
Don’t forget to tag me if you follow along with the challenge.
Two shot glasses filled with bronze liquid stood at the table. Jimmy took them both. Cool night's air filled his lungs as the porch's silence embraced him. A smile crept on his face, and he sat down. Hundreds of conversations—happening here—surged into his mind.
He took a sip; the brown liquid pleasantly burned in his throat. Then he poured the second shot on the ground, letting it soak into the dirt.
"Cheers, Dad," he said, remembering.
I don’t know if this is also done in other parts of the world. But it’s a custom here: when celebrating something and taking a shot, you pour some of the drink on the ground to honor those who can’t take the shots with you anymore.
The bartender slid the shot glass across the bar. “How very Hollywood,” the drunk man thought.
Too inebriated to care, he burst out laughing. “Holy, Wood,” he bellowed, pointing to his junk.
Sanity had left him 30+ shots ago.
BANG!
He slumped across the counter. Booze mixed with blood; cascading to the floor like a waterfall.
Behind his victim, the gunman stood still. His weapon smoking from the barrel.
Shot while doing a shot.
“How very Hollywood,” the deadman thought.
He is surprised it was so easy to get this close. Crowds mill about mere yards below, oblivious.
Hefting the AR-15 he sights the unmistakable face of his target. 1200 dollars to change the world.
Just as he pulls the trigger, a sudden blur, like something passing in front of him, the slightest nudge and voice in his ear.
“He’s one of mine, sorry kid.”
More shots sound. Bullets rip into him and he dies smelling sulphur.