DON'T READ Chuck Palahniuk's "Guts".
Andrés wanted to know why. Why? Because it's disgusting. It's the only story I actually regret reading. My life would be detectably better if I had never read it. "Well, what's it about?" he asked. "Guts," I said. "Intestines."
"But what happens? Tell me! Tell me tell me tell me!"
"No, it's gross."
"It involves intestines. I'm not going to tell you, there are innocent ears listening." (If it had just been him, I'd've summarized and he'd've regretted it. But I'm not going to traumatize people just to teach Andrés a lesson.)
"Argh," he cried, and reached for his iPhone. There was a pause, punctuated by tapping.
"Why are the first two results in Hindi?" Andrés asked. "And is this next one Russian?"
"What? Let me see that." And this is what I saw: Chuck Ballooniacs Guts.
"I thought it was a children's book," he said.
I laughed so hard I cried.