Бойцовский клуб

           Oh,notmyrefrigerator. I’dcollectedshelvesfullofdifferentmustards,somestone-ground,someEnglishpubstyle. Therewerefourteendifferentflavorsoffat-freesaladdressing,andsevenkindsofcapers. 

           Iknow,Iknow,ahousefullofcondimentsandnorealfood. 

           Thedoormanblewhisnoseandsomethingwentintohishandkerchiefwiththegoodslapofapitchintoacatcher’smitt. 

           Youcouldgouptothefifteenfloor,thedoormansaid,butnobodycouldgointotheunit. Policeorders. Thepolicehadbeenasking,didIhaveanoldgirlfriendwho’dwanttodothisordidImakeanenemyofsomebodywhohadaccesstodynamite. 

           "Itwasn’tworthgoingup,"thedoormansaid. "Allthat’sleftistheconcreteshell." 

           Thepolicehadn’truledoutarson. Noonehadsmelledgas. Thedoormanraisesaneyebrow. Thisguyspenthistimeflirtingwiththedaymaidsandnurseswhoworkedinthebigunitsonthetopfloorandwaitedinthelobbychairsfortheirridesafterwork. ThreeyearsIlivedhere,andthedoormanstillsatreadinghisElleryQueenmagazineeverynightwhileIshiftedpackagesandbagstounlockthefrontdoorandletmyselfin. 

           Thedoormanraisesaneyebrowandsayshowsomepeoplewillgoonalongtripandleaveacandle,along,longcandleburninginabigpuddleofgasoline. Peoplewithfinancialdifficultiesdothisstuff. Peoplewhowantoutfromunder. 

           Iaskedtousethelobbyphone. 

           "Alotofyoungpeopletrytoimpresstheworldandbuytoomanythings,"thedoormansaid.