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Tyler
stood
next
to
me
,
both
of
us
looking
down
at
the
big
O
of
my
mouth
with
blood
all
around
it
and
the
little
slit
of
my
eye
staring
up
at
us
from
the
floor
,
and
Tyler
says
,
"
Cool
.
"
I
shake
the
guy
's
hand
and
say
,
good
fight
.
This
guy
,
he
says
,
"
How
about
next
week
?
"
I
try
to
smile
against
all
the
swelling
,
and
I
say
,
look
at
me
.
How
about
next
month
?
You
are
n't
alive
anywhere
like
you
're
alive
at
fight
club
.
When
it
's
you
and
one
other
guy
under
that
one
light
in
the
middle
of
all
those
watching
.
Fight
club
is
n't
about
winning
or
losing
fights
.
Fight
club
is
n't
about
words
.
You
see
a
guy
come
to
fight
club
for
the
first
time
,
and
his
ass
is
a
loaf
of
white
bread
.
You
see
this
same
guy
here
six
months
later
,
and
he
looks
carved
out
of
wood
.
This
guy
trusts
himself
to
handle
anything
.
There
's
grunting
and
noise
at
fight
club
like
at
the
gym
,
but
fight
club
is
n't
about
looking
good
.
There
's
hysterical
shouting
in
tongues
like
at
church
,
and
when
you
wake
up
Sunday
afternoon
you
feel
saved
.
After
my
last
fight
,
the
guy
who
fought
me
mopped
the
floor
while
I
called
my
insurance
to
pre-approve
a
visit
to
the
emergency
room
.
At
the
hospital
,
Tyler
tells
them
I
fell
down
.
Sometimes
,
Tyler
speaks
for
me
.
I
did
this
to
myself
.
Outside
,
the
sun
was
coming
up
.
You
do
n't
talk
about
fight
club
because
except
for
five
hours
from
two
until
seven
on
Sunday
morning
,
fight
club
does
n't
exist
.
