Chapter 6

           TwoscreensintomydemotoMicrosoft,Itastebloodandhavetostartswallowing. Mybossdoesn’tknowthematerial,buthewon’tletmerunthedemowithablackeyeandhalfmyfaceswollenfromthestitchesinsidemycheek. Thestitcheshavecomeloose,andIcanfeelthemwithmytongueagainsttheinsideofmycheek. Picturesnarledfishinglineonthebeach. Icanpicturethemastheblackstitchesonadogafterit’sbeenfixed,andIkeepswallowingblood. Mybossismakingthepresentationfrommyscript,andI’mrunningthelaptopprojectorsoI’mofftoonesideoftheroom,inthedark. 

           MoreofmylipsarestickywithbloodasItrytolickthebloodoff,andwhenthelightscomeup,IwillturntoconsultantsEllenandWalterandNorbertandLindafromMicrosoftandsay,thankyouforcoming,mymouthshiningwithbloodandbloodclimbingthecracksbetweenmyteeth. 

           Youcanswallowaboutapintofbloodbeforeyou’resick. 

           Fightclubistomorrow,andI’mnotgoingtomissfightclub. 

           Beforethepresentation,WalterfromMicrosoftsmileshissteamshoveljawlikeamarketingtooltannedthecolorofabarbecuedpotatochip. Walterwithhissignetringshakesmyhand,wrappedinhissmoothsofthandandsays, "I’dhatetoseewhathappenedtotheotherguy." 

           Thefirstruleaboutfightclubisyoudon’ttalkaboutfightclub. 

           ItellWalterIfell. 

           Ididthistomyself. 

           Beforethepresentation,whenIsatacrossfrommyboss,tellinghimwhereinthescripteachslidecuesandwhenIwantedtorunthevideosegment,mybosssays, "Whatdoyougetyourselfintoeveryweekend?"