shots

by Aodán McCardle

Shot #1

The sound of explosions and overly excited music slowly took over the half-sleep state behind the eyes. The ceiling, blurred, was flashing reflections of oranges and reds and blues, and her arm rested across the top of her eyes trying to keep her head from spinning. The light from the screen was too bright to look at, but he sat half blocking it, cross-legged, on the end of the bed with his back to her. It was smooth and muscled, airbrushed even. Too smooth, she thought with a little rush of alarm. The curtains still closed, the further corners of the room still shadowed but definitely morning, she forced herself sideways and up into a sitting position, the carpet on the floor suddenly sensitive on the soles of her feet. He was playing some sort of game and ignoring her completely or just focused, no small talk, and he was naked. Naked, and suddenly self-conscious, she turned about looking for her pants, and her head started to spin again. They were sitting neatly with her jeans folded on a chair just by the bed. As she pulled them on, she couldn’t leave it any longer.

“What’s your name again?”

“Michael.”

“Michael?”

“Yeah, Michael Angelo.”

Her head flew round. “You’re joking?”

“No look.” Without glancing toward her, he nodded towards the screen, and there top-left in graphic letters was the name Michaelangelo. “It’s my gamer name.”

Something wasn’t right here. She was pulling the jeans up, trying not to draw any more attention, though there seemed little chance of that. Her bag sat neatly by the chair, as well, and the room in general was clean and tidy. Some sort of bedsit obviously. Too young, she thought, fucking shots, she thought, as she buttoned the top of her jeans and reached for her blouse. “Where’s the bathroom?” she asked.

He nodded again towards the door. “Just down the hall.”

She passed in front of him without really looking at him save the impression of a too chiseled jaw—again too smooth, too bright……….. As she opened the door, taking in the top of the stairs and hallway, all neatly decorated, he said, “Don’t worry. My mum’s at work, and my sister’s staying with friends for the weekend.”

She stopped dead still with her hand still on the doorknob. Afraid to ask but turning slowly to finally look a bit closer, he was definitely young, very young, big and tanned and muscled, but young. Finally, he glanced up and smiled, a big open smile, full of confidence and just… what? She smiled briefly and tip-toed down the hall, afraid now to even touch this space any more than she had to and Shit! Shit! Shit! she thought, Shitting drink and what the actual Fuck, she thought, fumbling for her phone and the door to the bathroom at the same time and the bright flush of light as the door opened and the time on her phone. Shit! She was going to be late for work.

Shot #2

The sound of explosions and overly excited music slowly took over the half-sleep state behind the eyes. The ceiling, blurred, was flashing reflections of oranges and reds and blues, and his arm rested across the top of his eyes trying to keep his head from spinning. The light from the screen was too bright to look at, but she sat half blocking it, cross-legged, on the end of the bed with her back to him. It was smooth and muscled, airbrushed even. Too smooth, he thought with a little rush of alarm. The curtains still closed, the further corners of the room still shadowed but definitely morning, he forced himself sideways and up into a sitting position, the carpet on the floor suddenly sensitive on the soles of his feet. She was playing some sort of game and ignoring him completely or just focused, no small talk, and she was naked. Naked, and suddenly self-conscious, he turned about looking for his pants, and his head started to spin again. They were sitting neatly with his jeans folded on a chair just by the bed. As he pulled them on, he couldn’t leave it any longer.

“What’s your name again?”

“Michelle.”

“Michelle?”

“Yeah, Michelle Angelo.”

His head flew round. “You’re joking?”

“No look.” Without glancing toward him, she nodded towards the screen, and there top left in graphic letters was the name Michelleangelo. “It’s my gamer name.”

Something wasn’t right here. He was pulling the jeans up, trying not to draw any more attention, though there seemed little chance of that. His bag sat neatly by the chair, as well, and the room in general was clean and tidy. Some sort of bedsit obviously. Too young, he thought, Fucking shots, he thought, as he buttoned the top of his jeans and reached for his shirt. “Where’s the bathroom?” he asked.

She nodded again towards the door. “Just down the hall.”

He passed in front of her without really looking at her save the impression of a too smooth jaw—again too supple, too bright ……….. As he opened the door, taking in the top of the stairs and hallway, all neatly decorated, she said, “Don’t worry. My mum’s at work, and my sister’s staying with friends for the weekend.

He stopped dead still with his hand still on the doorknob. Afraid to ask but turning slowly to finally look a bit closer, she was definitely young, very young, tall and tanned and supple but young. Finally, she glanced up and smiled, a big open smile, full of confidence and just… what? He smiled briefly and tip-toed down the hall afraid now to even touch this space any more than he had to andShit! Shit! Shit! he thought, Shitting drink and what the actual Fuck, he thought, fumbling for his phone and the door to the bathroom at the same time and the bright flush of light as the door opened and the time on his phone. Shit! He was going to be late for work.

Shot #3

The sound of explosions and overly excited music slowly took over the half-sleep state behind the eyes. The ceiling, blurred, was flashing reflections of oranges and reds and blues, and her arm rested across the top of her eyes trying to keep her head from spinning. The light from the screen was too bright to look at, but she sat half blocking it, cross-legged, on the end of the bed with her back to her. It was smooth and muscled, airbrushed even. Too smooth, she thought with a little rush of alarm. The curtains still closed, the further corners of the room still shadowed but definitely morning, she forced herself sideways and up into a sitting position, the carpet on the floor suddenly sensitive on the soles of her feet. She was playing some sort of game and ignoring her completely or just focused, no small talk, and she was naked. Naked, and suddenly self-conscious, she turned about looking for her pants, and her head started to spin again. They were sitting neatly with her jeans folded on a chair just by the bed. As she pulled them on, she couldn’t leave it any longer.

“What’s your name again?”

“Michelle.”

“Michelle?”

“Yeah, Michelle Angelo.”

Her head flew round. “You’re joking?”

“No look.” Without glancing toward her, she nodded towards the screen, and there top left in graphic letters was the name Michelleangelo. “It’s my gamer name.”

Something wasn’t right here. She was pulling the jeans up, trying not to draw any more attention, though there seemed little chance of that. Her bag sat neatly by the chair, as well, and the room in general was clean and tidy. Some sort of bedsit obviously. Too young, she thought, Fucking shots, she thought, as she buttoned the top of her jeans and reached for her shirt. “Where’s the bathroom?” she asked.

She nodded again towards the door. “Just down the hall.”

She passed in front of her without really looking at her save the impression of a too smooth jaw—again too supple, too bright ……….. As she opened the door, taking in the top of the stairs and hallway, all neatly decorated, she said, “Don’t worry.  My mum’s at work, and my sister’s staying with friends for the weekend.”

She stopped dead still with her hand still on the doorknob. Afraid to ask but turning slowly to finally look a bit closer, she was definitely young, very young, tall and tanned and supple but young. Finally, she glanced up and smiled, a big open smile, full of confidence and just… what? She smiled briefly and tip-toed down the hall afraid now to even touch this space any more than she had to and Shit! Shit! Shit!, she thought, Shitting drink and what the actual Fuck, she thought, fumbling for her phone and the door to the bathroom at the same time and the bright flush of light as the door opened and the time on her phone. Shit! She was going to be late for work.

Shot #4

The sound of explosions and overly excited music slowly took over the half-sleep state behind the eyes. The ceiling, blurred, was flashing reflections of oranges and reds and blues, and his arm rested across the top of his eyes trying to keep his head from spinning. The light from the screen was too bright to look at, but he sat half blocking it, cross-legged, on the end of the bed with his back to him. It was smooth and muscled, airbrushed even. Too smooth, he thought with a little rush of alarm. The curtains still closed, the further corners of the room still shadowed but definitely morning, he forced himself sideways and up into a sitting position, the carpet on the floor suddenly sensitive on the soles of his feet. He was playing some sort of game and ignoring him completely or just focused, no small talk, and he was naked. Naked, and suddenly self-conscious, he turned about looking for his pants, and his head started to spin again. They were sitting neatly with his jeans folded on a chair just by the bed. As he pulled them on, he couldn’t leave it any longer.

“What’s your name again?”

“Michel.”

“Michel?”

“Yeah, Michel Angelo.”

His head flew round. “You’re joking?”

“No, look.” Without glancing toward him, he nodded towards the screen, and there top-left in graphic letters was the name Michelangelo. “It’s my gamer name.”

Something wasn’t right here. He was pulling the jeans up, trying not to draw any more attention, though there seemed little chance of that. His bag sat neatly by the chair, as well, and the room in general was clean and tidy. Some sort of bedsit obviously. Too young, he thought, Fucking shots, he thought, as he buttoned the top of his jeans and reached for his shirt. “Where’s the bathroom?” he asked.

He nodded again towards the door. “Just down the hall.”

He passed in front of him without really looking at him save the impression of a too smooth jaw—again too supple, too bright ……….. As he opened the door, taking in the top of the stairs and hallway, all neatly decorated, he said, “Don’t worry. My mum’s at work, and my sister’s staying with friends for the weekend.”

He stopped dead still with his hand still on the doorknob. Afraid to ask but turning slowly to finally look a bit closer, he was definitely young, very young, tall and tanned and supple but young. Finally, he glanced up and smiled, a big open smile, full of confidence and just… what? He smiled briefly and tip-toed down the hall afraid now to even touch this space any more than he had to and Shit! Shit! Shit! he thought, Shitting drink and what the actual Fuck, he thought, fumbling for his phone and the door to the bathroom at the same time and the bright flush of light as the door opened and the time on his phone. Shit! He was going to be late for work.

Shot #5

The sound of explosions and overly excited music slowly took over the half-sleep state behind the eyes. The ceiling, blurred, was flashing reflections of oranges and reds and blues, and their arm rested across the top of their eyes trying to keep their head from spinning. The light from the screen was too bright to look at, but they sat half blocking it, cross-legged, on the end of the bed with their back to them. It was smooth and muscled, airbrushed even. Too smooth, they thought with a little rush of alarm. The curtains still closed, the further corners of the room still shadowed but definitely morning, they forced themselves sideways and up into a sitting position, the carpet on the floor suddenly sensitive on the soles of their feet. They were playing some sort of game and ignoring them completely or just focused, no small talk, and they were naked. Naked, and suddenly self-conscious, they turned about looking for their pants, and their head started to spin again. They were sitting neatly with their jeans folded on a chair just by the bed. As they pulled them on, they couldn’t leave it any longer.

“What’s your name again?”

“Michel.”

“Michel?”

“Yeah, Michel Angelo.”

Their head flew round. “You’re joking?”

“No, look.” Without glancing toward them, they nodded towards the screen, and there top-left in graphic letters was the name MichelAngelo. “It’s my gamer name.”

Something wasn’t right here. They were pulling the jeans up, trying not to draw any more attention, though there seemed little chance of that. Their bag sat neatly by the chair, as well, and the room in general was clean and tidy. Some sort of bedsit obviously. Too young, they thought, Fucking shots, they thought, as they buttoned the top of their jeans and reached for their shirt. “Where’s the bathroom?” they asked.

They nodded again towards the door. “Just down the hall.”

They passed in front of them without really looking at them save the impression of a too smooth jaw—again too supple, too bright ……….. As they opened the door, taking in the top of the stairs and hallway, all neatly decorated, they said, “Don’t worry. My mum’s at work, and my sister’s staying with friends for the weekend.”

They stopped dead still with their hand still on the doorknob. Afraid to ask but turning slowly to finally look a bit closer, they were definitely young, very young, tall and tanned and supple but young. Finally, they glanced up and smiled, a big open smile, full of confidence and just… what? They smiled briefly and tip-toed down the hall afraid now to even touch this space any more than they had to and

Shit! Shit! Shit! they thought, Shitting drink and what the actual Fuck, they thought, fumbling for their phone and the door to the bathroom at the same time and the bright flush of light as the door opened and the time on their phone. Shit! They were going to be late for work.

Shot #6

The sound of explosions and overly excited music slowly took over the half-sleep state behind the eyes. The ceiling, blurred, was flashing reflections of oranges and reds and blues, and her arm rested across the top of his eyes trying to keep their head from spinning. The light from the screen was too bright to look at, but she sat half blocking it, cross-legged, on the end of the bed with his back to them. It was smooth and muscled, airbrushed even. Too smooth, she thought with a little rush of alarm. The curtains still closed, the further corners of the room still shadowed but definitely morning, he forced themselves sideways and up into a sitting position, the carpet on the floor suddenly sensitive on the soles of her feet. He was playing some sort of game and ignoring them completely or just focused, no small talk, and she was naked. Naked, and suddenly self-conscious, he turned about looking for their pants, and her head started to spin again. They were sitting neatly with his jeans folded on a chair just by the bed. As they pulled them on, she couldn’t leave it any longer.

“What’s your name again?”

“Michel.”

“Michel?”

“Yeah, Michel Angelo.”

His head flew round. “You’re joking?”

“No, look.” Without glancing towards them, she nodded towards the screen, and there top-left in graphic letters was the name MichelAngelo. “It’s my gamer name.”

Something wasn’t right here. He was pulling the jeans up, trying not to draw any more attention, though there seemed little chance of that. Their bag sat neatly by the chair, as well, and the room in general was clean and tidy. Some sort of bedsit obviously. Too young, she thought, Fucking shots, he thought, as she buttoned the top of her jeans and he reached for his shirt. “Where’s the bathroom?” they asked.

She nodded again towards the door. “Just down the hall.”

He passed in front of them without really looking at her save the impression of a too chiseled jaw—again too smooth, too bright ……….. As they opened the door, taking in the top of the stairs and hallway, all neatly decorated, she said, “Don’t worry. My mum’s at work, and my sister’s staying with friends for the weekend.”

He stopped dead still with their hand still on the doorknob. Afraid to ask but turning slowly to finally look a bit closer, she was definitely young, very young, big and tanned and muscled but young. Finally, he glanced up and smiled, a big open smile, full of confidence and just… what? They smiled briefly and tip-toed down the hall afraid now to even touch this space any more than she had to and Shit! Shit! Shit! he thought, Shitting drink and what the actual Fuck, they thought, fumbling for her phone and the door to the bathroom at the same time and the bright flush of light as the door opened and the time on his phone. Shit! They were going to be late for work.

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