Бойцовский клуб
Chapter 10
Thehostcouldn’tpickherupbecauseMadamsayshe’stheonewhopeedinherperfumebottles,andshesayshe’stryingtodrivehercrazybyhavinganaffairwithoneofthewomenguests,tonight,andshe’stired,tiredofallthepeopletheycalltheirfriends.
Thehostcan’tpickherupbecauseMadam’sfallendownbehindthetoiletinherwhitedressandshe’swavingaroundhalfabrokenperfumebottle. Madamsaysshe’llcuthisthroat,heeventriestotouchher.
Tylersays, "Cool."
AndAlbertstinks. Lesliesays, "Albert,honey,youstink."
There’snowayyoucouldcomeoutofthatbathroomnotstinking,Albertsays. Everybottleofperfumeisbrokenonthefloorandthetoiletispiledfulloftheotherbottles. Theylooklikeice,Albertsays,likeatthefanciesthotelpartieswherewehavetofilltheurinalswithcrushedice. Thebathroomstinksandthefloorisgrittywithsliversoficethatwon’tmelt,andwhenAlberthelpsMadamtoherfeet,herwhitedresswetwithyellowstains,Madamswingsthebrokenbottleatthehost,slipsintheperfumeandbrokenglass,andlandsonherpalms.
She’scryingandbleeding,curledagainstthetoilet. Oh,anditstings,shesays. "Oh,Walter,itstings.It’sstinging,"Madamsays.
Theperfume,allthosedeadwhalesinthecutsinherhands,itstings.
ThehostpullsMadamtoherfeetagainsthim,Madamholdingherhandsupasifshewereprayingbutwithherhandsaninchapartandbloodrunningdownthepalms,downthewrists,acrossadiamondbracelet,andtoherelbowswhereitdrips.
