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           AfterTylercrawledoutoftheunionoffices,IwenttoseethemanagerofthePressmanHotel. 

           Isatthere,intheofficeofthemanagerofthePressmanHotel. 

           IamJoe’sSmirkingRevenge. 

           ThefirstthingthehotelmanagersaidwasIhadthreeminutes. Inthefirstthirtyseconds,ItoldhowI’dbeenpeeingintosoup,fartingoncremebrulees,sneezingonbraisedendive, andnowIwantedthehoteltosendmeacheckeveryweekequivalenttomyaverageweek’spayplustips. Inreturn,Iwouldn’tcometoworkanymore,andIwouldn’tgotothenewspapers orthepublichealthpeoplewithaconfused,tearfulconfession. 

           Theheadlines: 

           TroubledWaiterAdmitsTaintingFood. 

           Sure,Isaid,Imightgotoprison. Theycouldhangmeandyankmynutsoffanddragmethroughthestreetsandflaymyskinandburnmewithlye, butthePressmanHotelwouldalwaysbeknownasthehotelwheretherichestpeopleintheworldatepee. 

           Tyler’swordscomingoutofmymouth. 

           AndIusedtobesuchaniceperson. 

           Attheprojectionistunionoffice,Tylerhadlaughedaftertheunionpresidentpunchedhim. TheonepunchknockedTyleroutofhischair,andTylersatagainstthewall,laughing. 

           "Goahead,youcan’tkillme,"Tylerwaslaughing. "Youstupidfuck.Beatthecrapoutofme,butyoucan’tkillme." 

           Youhavetoomuchtolose. 

           Ihavenothing.