A/N: Yeah, it's short, get over it. It was longer, but that was before editing. And no, Barney Ross is not adirect relative of Taylor Ross. They're like, 5th cousins. Same clan, different people. Oh, and the narrator is called Tyler for the reason that they are one person, and he needs a name. It'll work out, trust me.
Disclaimer: I do not own Tyler Durden, the narrator, Marla, Bob, or any of the Space Monkeys. Palhunick owns them all. And I'm sure the school is most likely real, but I don't know where. Maybe Detroit.
When I tell people about my school, their first thought is "Oh, a preppy boys school." If only. No, we don't have the jocks, preps, and
punks that normal schools have. We have fighters, thieves, and gigolos. I'm not kidding. You know who's what by their walk. The
fighters swagger, showing off their scars, the thieves slink from shadow to shadow, picking things up, and the gigolos strut by, showing
their stuff. Oh, and we have stoners. They don't really move.
Every one is what they are for a reason. The fighters are professionals, fighting in rings, getting ready for the military or police force.
The thieves steal for their families, taking money or food. The gigolos…well, they're just weird. And the stoners are destined to end up as
dealers, or they'll go to mexico.
But this story is so much more than those groups. They're only part of the story. The story is about what those groups do. Yes, this
story has violence, sex, drugs, and crime- lots of crime. Oh, and it has language. I think the volume of swearing is summed up by Korn's
"K#$!". Don't worry, it'll come up soon.
Allow to introduce myself, if a bit late. My name is Barney Ross, and that name has gotten a lot of people beaten up- I'm one of the
top ranked fighters in the state. That gives me enough popularity at school to glide through without a problem. Which is probably why I'm
not the main part of the story. Had I worked hard, I'd have his jobs, and I'd be the leader. His name…Is Tyler Durden.
Despite the fact that he went to our school, Tyler wasn't much of anything. He didn't steal, didn't smoke, and he certainly didn't fight.
As such, we all assumed he was one of the male prostitutes. The thing was, we didn't have any proof of it, except that he was always
alone. Poor kid…not. Whatever he was, he was smart. He would watch people, picking things up. He came to all of my fights, and all of
the other top fighters. He watched the thieves go to work. He would be holding his books, standing around the corner from a group of
gigolos. Each day he looked bigger, stealthier, cooler, sexier…it was weird. It wasn't until my graduating year, when I left the school
forever, did I realize that Tyler Durden would grow up to be one helluva guy.
I left to work at a club, as a bouncer, where you can bet your ass that I was the best one in town. I stayed there, until Tyler inevitably
came. He walked into the bar, ordered a beer, and went to stand under one of the dancing cages, looking up. I didn't know it was him
until I walked over there to forcibly eject his mind from the gutter. I tapped his shoulder, and he whirled around like he had been
expecting me. He smiled, and greeted me by my full name. Then, he started talking like were we old friends. He told me were he was
living, and he told me about his various jobs as a waiter, a projectionist, and a soap-maker. He gave me his card, which I thought was
impressive, and left. I thought I had seen the last of him for the night, but he came back. He moved like a zombie now, with dark circles
under his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. I walked up to him, and asked if he was alright. He looked at me and nodded, as if he didn't
know me. He left once more, leaving me to wonder.
I didn't see him again that night, but my apartment blew up, which meant cops, which meant I couldn't stay for long. I moved to his
part of the country, hoping to find him. I didn't but I did find something better. Fight Club.
Review, God Damnit!