Rocky bits near the shore, Saturday night
He was drunk.
No, not drunk: plastered.
And for some reason thinking of word made him laugh so hard he tumbled into the sand.
He hadn't saved the corporate art of the western United States, he hadn't reformed Fight Club, he hadn't taken Fight Club over again -- apparently there were now four other Tyler Durdens, each claiming to be the original -- he hadn't even kept a security guard from getting blown up right in front of him. But he could drink, and he could keep from flunking out of high school.
Tyler took another long pull from his bottle of scotch and stared at the waves. He'd make it back to campus. Eventually.
[OOC: He's baaaaack. Open to whoever wants to greet him.]
No, not drunk: plastered.
And for some reason thinking of word made him laugh so hard he tumbled into the sand.
He hadn't saved the corporate art of the western United States, he hadn't reformed Fight Club, he hadn't taken Fight Club over again -- apparently there were now four other Tyler Durdens, each claiming to be the original -- he hadn't even kept a security guard from getting blown up right in front of him. But he could drink, and he could keep from flunking out of high school.
Tyler took another long pull from his bottle of scotch and stared at the waves. He'd make it back to campus. Eventually.
[OOC: He's baaaaack. Open to whoever wants to greet him.]