I wake up without having known I had fallen asleep. How this is possible after all that went down last night, or rather, after who didn't go down last night, is beyond me.
Scratch that. How I could've fallen asleep after all that has happened this night. The clock on the floor glows an eerie red 61:01. Somebody is upside down. I sit up, head swimming, and focus. I've only been out five minutes.
The daze fades out and two things become aware to me. One, my hand is down my pants, and two, stones are smacking against my window. My guess - Tyler is responsible for both incidents.
I pull myself up and go to the window. The grime that's built up over the years makes it hard to see. With a little spit and a little shirt sleeve, I wipe my way to a still night-time verdict.
Squinting through the darkness, I make out that my window's assailant is most definitely Tyler. As he bends down for another handful of ammo, I have to push back the obscene thought that suddenly develops.
The window is almost sealed shut. I'm amazed it hasn't been painted over. I force it open. The cracking of caked on dirt catches Tyler's attention.
He stands up, and even though it's almost pitch black, I can see his smile. "Come on down! You're the next contestant on 'Who Wants To Fuck A Soap Salesman.'"
No one's around, so there's no need to ssh him. Not that I would want to anyway. "Shouldn't you come up here?"
"No can do. There's an ex girlfriend hibernating in front of your bedroom door."
Ex. I'm responsible for Marla's ex status.
Tyler points to the drainpipe to the left of my window. "Just shimmy down that thing, and we'll get out of here."
It's only one story to the ground, but the decades old roofing accessory doesn't exactly scream out safety. I check its sturdiness with one hand, expecting the tin to crumble underneath my fingers, but through sheer perseverance it holds together.
"Are you sure Marla's still there?" I ask.
"I haven't seen her come out yet."
I climb half out the window, and steady a foot against the pipe. I get as good as a hold as I'm going to get with the thing and slowly make my way down.
My spotter shouts to me when I reach the halfway mark. "Take your time sweet cheeks."
I tell him to shut up, but I'm glad I'm up in the dark so he can't see me enjoying his comment. My concentration wavers that moment, and I lose my hold. I stumble and fall the remaining two feet.
I clumsily land in Tyler's arms. He coulda been an outfielder.
"Nice catch." I say.
"Like you didn't fall on purpose." He deposits me onto the grass with a swift pat on the ass. "Enough of the foreplay, come on, vamanos." He makes a beeline for the sidewalk leaving me with the impression that he knows where he's going.
I swallow the bit of nervousness that creeps up into my throat. This is it. No more interruptions. It's fluid swapping time. With another man. Another new experience. Unconventional, yes, and Tyler hasn't steered me wrong yet. Still...
"Tyler. Wait a second." I need an explanation, or at least an excuse. "Does this mean, that we're - This doesn't mean I'm gay, does it?"
Tyler stops and stares. "If you weren't just trying to get into my pants a few minutes ago, I would swear that sounded homophobic." He slaps me on the shoulder. "I thought you were through with the labels anyway. You chucked the Calvin Kleins, the Starbucks, and the Pradas. Why start with the gay, straight shit now."
No sale. "I don't understand. How are name brands and what sex you're attracted to similar to each other?"
"People who are proud of their sexual preference and market themselves accordingly are shallow. Their close-mindness in thinking being straight or being gay or whatever - makes them special is just as pointless as believing wearing designer labels makes you superior to those who shop at K-Mart."
"So if I think myself as straight, I'm shallow? That's 90% of the population! You can't just say all those people are mindless idiots."
"Not if you think of yourself as straight. You can think yourself the king of the fucking North America, as long as you keep it to yourself I don't care about it. Once you start promoting yourself as one thing, you got stick with it.
"So, you think everyone should be bisexual."
"Another label, man. If you're attracted to someone you should just go for it. Life is too short. You dig me, I dig you. Good enough, let's go." He continues down the walk.
There is no choice but to follow. "Where are we going?"
"To Marla's. She'll be camped out at our place for at least another few hours."
"A few hours?" I say by his side.
"Just another perk of the Tyler Durden program." He turns and flashes me one of his trademark smiles. "I think you'll find it's worth the trip."
End.
Scratch that. How I could've fallen asleep after all that has happened this night. The clock on the floor glows an eerie red 61:01. Somebody is upside down. I sit up, head swimming, and focus. I've only been out five minutes.
The daze fades out and two things become aware to me. One, my hand is down my pants, and two, stones are smacking against my window. My guess - Tyler is responsible for both incidents.
I pull myself up and go to the window. The grime that's built up over the years makes it hard to see. With a little spit and a little shirt sleeve, I wipe my way to a still night-time verdict.
Squinting through the darkness, I make out that my window's assailant is most definitely Tyler. As he bends down for another handful of ammo, I have to push back the obscene thought that suddenly develops.
The window is almost sealed shut. I'm amazed it hasn't been painted over. I force it open. The cracking of caked on dirt catches Tyler's attention.
He stands up, and even though it's almost pitch black, I can see his smile. "Come on down! You're the next contestant on 'Who Wants To Fuck A Soap Salesman.'"
No one's around, so there's no need to ssh him. Not that I would want to anyway. "Shouldn't you come up here?"
"No can do. There's an ex girlfriend hibernating in front of your bedroom door."
Ex. I'm responsible for Marla's ex status.
Tyler points to the drainpipe to the left of my window. "Just shimmy down that thing, and we'll get out of here."
It's only one story to the ground, but the decades old roofing accessory doesn't exactly scream out safety. I check its sturdiness with one hand, expecting the tin to crumble underneath my fingers, but through sheer perseverance it holds together.
"Are you sure Marla's still there?" I ask.
"I haven't seen her come out yet."
I climb half out the window, and steady a foot against the pipe. I get as good as a hold as I'm going to get with the thing and slowly make my way down.
My spotter shouts to me when I reach the halfway mark. "Take your time sweet cheeks."
I tell him to shut up, but I'm glad I'm up in the dark so he can't see me enjoying his comment. My concentration wavers that moment, and I lose my hold. I stumble and fall the remaining two feet.
I clumsily land in Tyler's arms. He coulda been an outfielder.
"Nice catch." I say.
"Like you didn't fall on purpose." He deposits me onto the grass with a swift pat on the ass. "Enough of the foreplay, come on, vamanos." He makes a beeline for the sidewalk leaving me with the impression that he knows where he's going.
I swallow the bit of nervousness that creeps up into my throat. This is it. No more interruptions. It's fluid swapping time. With another man. Another new experience. Unconventional, yes, and Tyler hasn't steered me wrong yet. Still...
"Tyler. Wait a second." I need an explanation, or at least an excuse. "Does this mean, that we're - This doesn't mean I'm gay, does it?"
Tyler stops and stares. "If you weren't just trying to get into my pants a few minutes ago, I would swear that sounded homophobic." He slaps me on the shoulder. "I thought you were through with the labels anyway. You chucked the Calvin Kleins, the Starbucks, and the Pradas. Why start with the gay, straight shit now."
No sale. "I don't understand. How are name brands and what sex you're attracted to similar to each other?"
"People who are proud of their sexual preference and market themselves accordingly are shallow. Their close-mindness in thinking being straight or being gay or whatever - makes them special is just as pointless as believing wearing designer labels makes you superior to those who shop at K-Mart."
"So if I think myself as straight, I'm shallow? That's 90% of the population! You can't just say all those people are mindless idiots."
"Not if you think of yourself as straight. You can think yourself the king of the fucking North America, as long as you keep it to yourself I don't care about it. Once you start promoting yourself as one thing, you got stick with it.
"So, you think everyone should be bisexual."
"Another label, man. If you're attracted to someone you should just go for it. Life is too short. You dig me, I dig you. Good enough, let's go." He continues down the walk.
There is no choice but to follow. "Where are we going?"
"To Marla's. She'll be camped out at our place for at least another few hours."
"A few hours?" I say by his side.
"Just another perk of the Tyler Durden program." He turns and flashes me one of his trademark smiles. "I think you'll find it's worth the trip."
End.
