there’s going to be two hits: you hitting him and him hitting the floor. please fight this man. he deserves it. he’ll be too drunk to fight back. knock some sense into him.
ernest hemingway; who wins:no one
he’ll come at you with brute force, and he won’t feel your punches being entirely numbed by liquor. you’ll both fight it out for some minutes before both falling back and arguing who won. even if you definitely did win, he’ll say he won anyway. it’s not worth it. don’t fight hemingway. he’s a prick.
oscar wilde; who wins: him
you won’t necessarily fight physically. you’ll stand there dumbfounded as he rips you apart with poetic sass. you might be able to turn the fight around and grab the upper hand by appealing to his narcissism, but honestly, it’s not worth it. he’ll destroy you with his wit.
edgar allan poe; who wins: no one
why would you want to fight this poor man? he’s so sad and miserable. leave him alone. maybe punch him once for marrying his 13 year old cousin. he does kind of deserve a black eye for that. that’s pretty creepy. but don’t pick a fight, just let him wallow in his melancholy.
chuck palahniuk; who wins: him
it’s not a good idea to fight the man who created fight club. he’ll beat you to a pulp without the slightest emotion and you’ll have to listen to him drone on about consumerism coming from a man who’s made a lot of money off selling products. you’ll wish he’d let you slip into unconsciousness, but he knows how to beat you without killing you.
jack kerouac; who wins: you
please beat the pretentiousness out of him. he won’t fight back but will instead give you a spiel about being in love with life and how you wouldn’t be fighting him if you just looked up at the stars more often. you’ll easily defeat him.
So therefore I dedicate myself to myself, to my art, my sleep, my dreams, my labors, my sufferances, my loneliness, my unique madness, my endless absorption and hunger - because I cannot dedicate myself to any fellow being.
“ I’ve heard the strange madness long growing in your soul, in your isolation but you fortunate in your ignorance. You who have suffered find where love hides, give, share, lose, lest we die unbloomed.”
The whole universe melting and falling down, the skies all jumbled and soft, all blurred and transcendental with milky light, all immortal, all sacrificial and sighing, all too impossible to keep and bear, so beautiful and so sad.