The day had started out like any other. I made breakfast while Tyler cleaned. When he was ready we switched. I got ready for work and he...did whatever it is that Tyler does in his spare time. The bathroom had an odd smell to it. I couldn't tell if it was from the factory or something Tyler had done. Tyler Durden farting. The thought made me grin like an eight year old.

When I arrived at work...that's when it hit me. Something was different. Every time I went to the copy machine or got up to take a leak...people were nodding at me strangely. After a while I noticed a common trait about them. They all had cuts on their hands and faces. Bruises on their cheeks. Blisters and scabs that were still wet.

I could think of only one way so many guys could end up like this. And since I didn't remember seeing any of them at the usual meetings, I could reach only one conclusion.

"What's going on here?" I asked. Tyler was leafing through a stack of pornography on the floor.

"What does it look like," he said with his usual nonchalant manner.

"Fight Club," I said, walking over and sitting in the chair next to his spot on the floor. "I keep seeing guys at work who've been to Fight Club. I've never seen any of them at the meetings."

"How do you know they're in Fight Club," he replied. He held out a centerfold and casually skimmed over the picture.

"Don't bullshit me," I said. I knocked the magazine out of his hands. "Just give me a straight answer. Are you having meetings behind my back?"

He stood up. "And what if I am..." He walked into the kitchen and got a beer, leaning back against the sink as he took a sip.

I am Jacks eternal frustration.

I shook my head. "I have to work with these people," I said.

"That's one way of looking at it." He tossed the beer out the window, still half full. The glass shattered across the yard. He walked back into the living room and grabbed his jacket, then went to the front door and walked out of the house.

"Hey...," I said, confused. "We're having a conversation here!"

"You're the only one with something to say," he answered, not looking back. He turned at the street and walked off into the night. I stood there for a moment, speechless. To the casual observer it would seem that Tyler and I were a couple. I didn't want to think which one that made me.

The bar was full that night. Sweaty, greasy men, packed from wall to wall. None of them were drinking. No small chat. It looked like they were waiting for something. For someone. The jukebox blared in the background.

I walked down to the basement, not even bothering to speak. I was taking my shirt off when someone clicked on the light. They all just stood there. Watching. Waiting. What a bunch of losers.

"You..." I said, pointing to a latin kid. He stepped into the middle of the crude ring that had formed around me. I didn't waste any time reciting the 8 Rules. Someone had obviously already been talking about Fight Club for all these strangers to be there.

The kid skittered around me, his feet shuffling like a boxer. I shook my head in disgust. I moved closer. He retreated. Closer. "Come on!"

I am Jack's overwhelming impatience.

I stepped forward. This time he took a chance. His fist connected with my nose. My head spun. It took a few seconds for my skin to register the sensation of blood running down my face.

He darted his fist out again. I was ready this time, dodging easily. My knuckles went straight to the corner of his left eye.

"Ahhh! Shit!" He staggered back. He pulled his hand away from his face. It was covered in blood. Fights will go on as long as they have to...

He was on his back, moaning and disoriented. He finally worked up enough sentience to tap his weary arm on the warm concrete floor. My arm was pulled back, my fist just inches away from his face. I let out a long sigh and stood, reaching a hand down to help him up. I had proven my point. I wasn't about to break the rules like Tyler had. I was different. He had been wrong to exclude me.



"You were busy tonight," Tyler said as I walked in the door. He was doing pull ups on one of the broken light fixtures hanging above the floor. It looked like it could break at any minute.

"What's it to you?" I went into the kitchen for a beer. It had been a long night. I didn't need his shit.

I heard his laugh from beside the fridge. "Nothing..." he said from the other room.

I went back to the living room and stood next to him for a minute. He was always up to something. It was rare to find him with absolutely nothing to do. "You know, Tyler..." I stopped in mid sentence.

"What..." he grunted, still exercising. "What's on your mind."

I hesitated. After a few seconds I said it anyways. "You know...you really confuse me sometimes."

He stopped his work out and dropped down to the floor. His feet missed and he landed on his ass. He looked up at me, drenched in sweat. "Is that a problem?" he asked. I could never get a read on him. His face gave nothing away.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Never mind." I went up to my room and laid down. The night ended as it had began. Just another average day. The sounds of Tyler and Marla's fucking lasting long past the point of an average human's threshold.

I put a pillow over my head and turned the light off. "You really confuse me..." I muttered, and went to sleep.