I come home to a sucker-punch. Tyler was hiding behind the door just waiting to pounce. He knocked my head back into the door and got me in the gut before I could retaliate. I feel the blood dripping down my chin as I tighten my fist and get him with a quick uppercut, knocking him on his ass for a second. He lunged at me, simultaneously sticking me in the kidneys as I slammed into the counter. Pots rattled, wood moaned. Our fists flying like paper airplanes smashing into the teacher's back.
I am my one true sense of freedom.
I am free.
A fight is the one thing left in the world for a man to really test himself in the hunter/gatherer sense of the word. It is a test of limits. A test of boundries. You are fueled by your pain. You want nothing more than to be a victor. Tyler's fist nearly smashes my nose as I dodge and get him in the ribs.
Blood.
Sweat.
Bruises.
These are the tattoos and facial piercings of the past.
Tyler hates all the simple solutions for modern living. He would be happy with a loincloth and a spear hunting up and down the hillside for dinner. Tyler likes to fight for his natural primitive urges. I think I want to be like that sometimes. I think I want to be Tyler sometimes.
When the fight is over we sit on the kitchen floor sharing a beer and applying pressure to where we're bleeding. I can wiggle a few teeth around with my tongue. My cheek feels two sizes too big and I'm pretty sure I have another black eye. My nose is dripping like a faucet all over my pants and my sides hurt so bad I don't want to move at all.
I feel like a wad of pounded cookie dough. Lay me out on a sheet and bake me at four-hundred degrees for fifteen minutes.
Tyler says we are the all seeing, all knowing shit of the world. We see things no one else does. We know things no one else does. We see who we are and we do not fear it. Tyler says that soon others will see. He'll make them see. I sip my beer and listen with one ear. My blood is running out of my nose as fast as my heart is pumping it. The grin on my face rivals a Cheshire cat.
I thank Tyler for showing me how great this can be.
Tyler says I haven't seen anything yet.
***
It's late when I go down into the basement to fix a fuse. I notice three bathtubs full of glycerin residue. For a second I think nothing of it before I remember what Tyler told me about adding nitric acid to the glycerin to make nitroglycerin. I don't see any nitric acid anywhere, but I do see a few bags of collected sawdust. It takes a minute to process. He's not only making nitro, he's making dynamite. For a second I think that maybe Tyler just made a huge batch of soap, but for some reason I severely doubt that. I root around looking for any sign of harsh chemicals and only come up with rat poison.
Tyler asks what I'm doing from the top of the stairs. I spin and knock over some boxes. I tell him I'm fixing the fuse. He swaggers down the stairs and stops right in front of me. He looks to the tubs then back at me.
"It's exactly what you're thinking," he says.
Thinking what?
"Just say it man," Tyler says. "You already know so just say it."
I don't know what you mean, I say.
"Why is it so hard for you to say what's on your mind?" Tyler asks.
Why are you making dynamite? I ask.
"To make an omelet," Tyler says. "You have to break a few eggs."
What?
"To change the way the world works," Tyler says. "You have to result to drastic action or brute force. It's the way things have always been. Imagine if Genghis Khan or Attila the Hun politely asked those surrounding countries if it was all right if they conquered. Never would have happened. They would have been killed before they finished their pitch."
What are you planning on doing? I ask.
Tyler says it's already done and I shouldn't worry about it.
But I am worried. I want to know.
"You decide your own level of involvement," Tyler says.
I want to ask more questions, but there's a knock at the door and Tyler asks if I'm expecting anybody. I tell him it's probably Faith looking for a quick fuck. Tyler tells me to go for it.
No, I say. That's okay.
I walk back upstairs to answer the door. I hear Tyler banging around. I walk through the kitchen and get the door. Sure enough Faith is there smiling at me and holding a manila envelope in her hand.
"Nice bruises raccoon boy," she says.
Funny, I say. What do you want?
"You left this over the other night," she says handing me the envelope. "Can I come in?"
Now's not the best time, I say wondering why Tyler left something at her house and she's giving it to me. I still hear Tyler banging around in the basement. I want her to leave.
"Whatever," she says. "You'll call later anyway."
No I won't.
"Yeah, yeah," Faith says as she turns and walks away.
I look at the envelope she gave me. "First National Bank," it says in bold black print. I open it up and see blueprints for the building and a few points marked with X's. It takes a minute for me to realize what it meant. Tyler's tubs of glycerin and sawdust. He meant to blow up the bank.
I storm down into the basement waving the folder in Tyler's face. What the hell is this? I shout. How does blowing up a building equal to changing the world?
Tyler smiles and says "You are not how much money you have in the bank."
What does that mean?
"Once these people wake up with nothing," Tyler says. "They'll be free to do anything."
No, I tell him. This isn't the way. You can't do this.
"It's already done," Tyler says. "So shut up."
I don't say anything more. I turn an run up the stairs. Tyler is shouting to my back about what exactly I think I can do to stop it. I don't know what I can do, but at least I'm going to try and do something. I grab my keys and run to my car.
The streets fly by in a blur and I don't care if the police start to chase me. I whip around corners, tires screeching, pedal to floor, engine pumping. I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know how to diffuse dynamite. I pull up across the street, and spray-painted in the middle of the road are Tyler's words.
"You are not how much money you have in the bank."
I lean down on one knee to touch the paint. My heart is pounding inside my chest. My palms are sweaty and the only thing I can think over and over again is that I made friends with a complete psycho. Yes I wanted to change my life. Yes I thought Tyler could help me do it. Mass destruction isn't something I ever had in mind. I get up and start to walk forward.
The air around me feels eerily still as I hear the caw of a bird in the distance.
Then the bank explodes.
I am my one true sense of freedom.
I am free.
A fight is the one thing left in the world for a man to really test himself in the hunter/gatherer sense of the word. It is a test of limits. A test of boundries. You are fueled by your pain. You want nothing more than to be a victor. Tyler's fist nearly smashes my nose as I dodge and get him in the ribs.
Blood.
Sweat.
Bruises.
These are the tattoos and facial piercings of the past.
Tyler hates all the simple solutions for modern living. He would be happy with a loincloth and a spear hunting up and down the hillside for dinner. Tyler likes to fight for his natural primitive urges. I think I want to be like that sometimes. I think I want to be Tyler sometimes.
When the fight is over we sit on the kitchen floor sharing a beer and applying pressure to where we're bleeding. I can wiggle a few teeth around with my tongue. My cheek feels two sizes too big and I'm pretty sure I have another black eye. My nose is dripping like a faucet all over my pants and my sides hurt so bad I don't want to move at all.
I feel like a wad of pounded cookie dough. Lay me out on a sheet and bake me at four-hundred degrees for fifteen minutes.
Tyler says we are the all seeing, all knowing shit of the world. We see things no one else does. We know things no one else does. We see who we are and we do not fear it. Tyler says that soon others will see. He'll make them see. I sip my beer and listen with one ear. My blood is running out of my nose as fast as my heart is pumping it. The grin on my face rivals a Cheshire cat.
I thank Tyler for showing me how great this can be.
Tyler says I haven't seen anything yet.
***
It's late when I go down into the basement to fix a fuse. I notice three bathtubs full of glycerin residue. For a second I think nothing of it before I remember what Tyler told me about adding nitric acid to the glycerin to make nitroglycerin. I don't see any nitric acid anywhere, but I do see a few bags of collected sawdust. It takes a minute to process. He's not only making nitro, he's making dynamite. For a second I think that maybe Tyler just made a huge batch of soap, but for some reason I severely doubt that. I root around looking for any sign of harsh chemicals and only come up with rat poison.
Tyler asks what I'm doing from the top of the stairs. I spin and knock over some boxes. I tell him I'm fixing the fuse. He swaggers down the stairs and stops right in front of me. He looks to the tubs then back at me.
"It's exactly what you're thinking," he says.
Thinking what?
"Just say it man," Tyler says. "You already know so just say it."
I don't know what you mean, I say.
"Why is it so hard for you to say what's on your mind?" Tyler asks.
Why are you making dynamite? I ask.
"To make an omelet," Tyler says. "You have to break a few eggs."
What?
"To change the way the world works," Tyler says. "You have to result to drastic action or brute force. It's the way things have always been. Imagine if Genghis Khan or Attila the Hun politely asked those surrounding countries if it was all right if they conquered. Never would have happened. They would have been killed before they finished their pitch."
What are you planning on doing? I ask.
Tyler says it's already done and I shouldn't worry about it.
But I am worried. I want to know.
"You decide your own level of involvement," Tyler says.
I want to ask more questions, but there's a knock at the door and Tyler asks if I'm expecting anybody. I tell him it's probably Faith looking for a quick fuck. Tyler tells me to go for it.
No, I say. That's okay.
I walk back upstairs to answer the door. I hear Tyler banging around. I walk through the kitchen and get the door. Sure enough Faith is there smiling at me and holding a manila envelope in her hand.
"Nice bruises raccoon boy," she says.
Funny, I say. What do you want?
"You left this over the other night," she says handing me the envelope. "Can I come in?"
Now's not the best time, I say wondering why Tyler left something at her house and she's giving it to me. I still hear Tyler banging around in the basement. I want her to leave.
"Whatever," she says. "You'll call later anyway."
No I won't.
"Yeah, yeah," Faith says as she turns and walks away.
I look at the envelope she gave me. "First National Bank," it says in bold black print. I open it up and see blueprints for the building and a few points marked with X's. It takes a minute for me to realize what it meant. Tyler's tubs of glycerin and sawdust. He meant to blow up the bank.
I storm down into the basement waving the folder in Tyler's face. What the hell is this? I shout. How does blowing up a building equal to changing the world?
Tyler smiles and says "You are not how much money you have in the bank."
What does that mean?
"Once these people wake up with nothing," Tyler says. "They'll be free to do anything."
No, I tell him. This isn't the way. You can't do this.
"It's already done," Tyler says. "So shut up."
I don't say anything more. I turn an run up the stairs. Tyler is shouting to my back about what exactly I think I can do to stop it. I don't know what I can do, but at least I'm going to try and do something. I grab my keys and run to my car.
The streets fly by in a blur and I don't care if the police start to chase me. I whip around corners, tires screeching, pedal to floor, engine pumping. I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know how to diffuse dynamite. I pull up across the street, and spray-painted in the middle of the road are Tyler's words.
"You are not how much money you have in the bank."
I lean down on one knee to touch the paint. My heart is pounding inside my chest. My palms are sweaty and the only thing I can think over and over again is that I made friends with a complete psycho. Yes I wanted to change my life. Yes I thought Tyler could help me do it. Mass destruction isn't something I ever had in mind. I get up and start to walk forward.
The air around me feels eerily still as I hear the caw of a bird in the distance.
Then the bank explodes.
