Бойцовский клуб
Chapter 5
Theeasy-caretexturedlacquerofmyKalixoccasionaltables.
MyStegnestingtables.
Youbuyfurniture.Youtellyourself,thisisthelastsofaIwilleverneedinmylife. Buythesofa,thenforacoupleyearsyou’resatisfiedthatnomatterwhatgoeswrong,atleastyou’vegotyoursofaissuehandled. Thentherightsetofdishes. Thentheperfectbed. Thedrapes. Therug.
Thenyou’retrappedinyourlovelynest,andthethingsyouusedtoown,nowtheyownyou.
UntilIgothomefromtheairport.
Thedoormanstepsoutoftheshadowstosay,there’sbeenanaccident. Thepolice,theywerehereandaskedalotofquestions.
Thepolicethinkmaybeitwasthegas. Maybethepilotlightonthestovewentoutoraburnerwaslefton,leakinggas,andthegasrosetotheceiling,andthegasfilledthecondofromceilingtofloorineveryroom. Thecondowasseventeenhundredsquarefeetwithhighceilingsandfordaysanddays,thegasmust’veleakeduntileveryroomwasfull. Whentheroomswerefilledtothefloor,thecompressoratthebaseoftherefrigeratorclickedon.
Detonation.
Thefloor-to-ceilingwindowsintheiraluminumframeswentoutandthesofasandthelampsanddishesandsheetsetsinflames,andthehighschoolannualsandthediplomasandtelephone. Everythingblastingoutfromthefifteenthfloorinasortofsolarflare.
