Cean Chaffin - Fight Club (Part 1) lyrics

[Starts on a black screen] JACK (V.O.): People were always asking me, did I know Tyler Durden. [Fades in to the social room, top floor of a high rise building at night. Tyler has one arm around Jack's shoulder; the other hand holds a handgun with the barrel lodged in Jack's mouth. Tyler is sitting in Jack's lap. They are both sweating and disheveled, both around 30; Tyler is blond, handsome; and Jack, brunette, is appealing in a dry sort of way. Tyler looks at his watch.] TYLER: One minute. *looking out window* This is the beginning. We're at ground zero. Maybe you should say a few words, to mark the occasion. JACK: ... i... ann....iinn.. ff....nnyin... JACK (V.O.): With a gun barrel between your teeth, you only speak in vowels. [Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth] JACK: *still distorted* I can't think of anything. JACK (V.O.): With my tongue, I can feel the rifling in the barrel. For a second, I totally forgot about Tyler's whole controlled demolition thing and I wondered how clean this gun is. [Tyler checks his watch] Tyler: It's getting exciting now. JACK (V.O.): That old saying, how you always hurt the one you love, well, it works both way. [Jack turns so that he can see down -- 31 STORIES] JACK (V.O.): We have front row seats for this Theater of Ma** Destruction. The Demolitions Committee of Project Mayhem wrapped the foundation columns of ten buildings with blasting gelatin. In two minutes, primary charges will blow base charges, and those buildings will be reduced to smoldering rubble. I know this because Tyler knows this. Tyler: Look what we've accomplised. *checks watch* Thirty seconds. JACK (V.O.): Somehow, I realize all of this -- the gun, the bombs, the revolution -- is really about Marla Singer. CUT TO: Interior Church Meeting Room [Jack's face is pressed against two large breasts that belong to...Bob, 45, a moose of a man. Jack is engulfed by Bob in an intense embrace. Bob weeps openly.] JACK (V.O.): Bob had b**h tits. [Men are paired off, hugging, talking in emotional tones. Near the door, a sign on a stand: "Remaining men together."] JACK (V.O.): This was a support group for men with testicular cancer. The big moosie slobbering all over me was Bob. BOB: We're still men. JACK: Yes. We're men. Men is what we are. JACK (V.O.): Six months ago, Bob's testicles were removed. Then hormone therapy. He developed b**h tits because his testosterone was too high and his body upped the estrogen. That was where my head fit -- into his huge, sweating tits that hung enormous, the way we think of God's as big. BOB: They're gonna have to open my pec's again to drain the fluid. [Bob hugs tighter; then looks with empathy into Jack's eyes.] BOB: Okay. You cry now. [Jack looks at Bob.] JACK (V.O.): Wait. Back up. Let me start earlier. CUT TO: Interior Jack's Bedroom [Jack lies in bed, staring at the ceiling.] JACK (V.O.): For six months. I could not sleep. CUT TO: Interior Copy Room [Jack, sleepy, stands over a copy machine. His Starbucks cup sits on the lid, moving back and forth as the machine copies.] JACK (V.O.): With insomnia, nothing is real. Everything is far away. Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy. [Other people make copies, all with Starbucks cups, sipping. Jack picks up his cup and his copies and leaves.] CUT TO: Interior Jack's Office [Jack, sipping, stares blankly at a Starbucks bag on the floor, full of newspapers and fast food garbage.] JACK (V.O.): When deep space exploration ramps up, it will be corporations that name everything. The IBM Stellar Sphere. The Philip Morris Galaxy. Planet Starbucks. [Jack looks up as a pudgy man, Jack's boss, enters, Starbucks cup in hand, and slides a stack of reports on Jack's desk.] BOSS: I'm going to need you out-of-town a little more this week. We've got some "red-flags" to cover. JACK (V.O.): It must've been Tuesday. he was wearing his "cornflower-blue" tie. JACK: *listless management speak* You want me to de-prioritize my current reports until you advise of a status upgrade? BOSS: You need to make these your primary "action items." JACK (V.O.): He was full of pep. Must've had his grande latte enema. BOSS: Here are your flight coupons. Call me from the road if there are any snags. Your itinerary... [Jack hides a yawn, pretends to listen.] CUT TO: Interior Bathroom in Jack's Condo [Jack sits on the toilet, cordless phone to his ear, flips through an IKEA catalog. There's a stack of old Playboy magazines and other catalogs nearby.] JACK (V.O.): Like everyone else, I had become a slave to the IKEA nesting instinct. JACK: *into phone* Yes. I'd like to order the Erika Pekkari slip covers. [Jack drops the open catalog on the floor.] JACK (V.O.): If I saw something like clever coffee table sin the shape of a yin and yang, I had to have it. Like the Johanneshov armchair in the Strinne green stripe pattern... CUT TO: Interior Living RoomDining Area/Kitchen [The armchair appears. Pan over next to armchair…] JACK (V.O.): Or the Rislampa wire lamps of environmentally-friendly unbleached paper. [The lamps appear. Pan over to wall…] JACK (V.O.): Even the Vild hall clock of galvanized steel, resting on the Klipsk shelving unit. [The clock appears as the shelving unit appears on the wall.] JACK (V.O.): I would flip through catalogs and wonder, "What kind of dining set defines me as a person?" We used to read p**nography. Now it was the Horchow Collection. [A dining room set Appears. Jack, the cordless phone still glued to his ear, walks into frame and continues.] JACK: No, I don't want Cobalt. Oh, that sounds nice. Apricot. [Jack opens a cabinet, takes out a plate.] JACK (V.O.): I had it all. Even the gla** dishes with tiny bubbles and imperfections, proof they were crafted by the honest, simple, hard-working indigenous peoples of wherever. [He rummages through the refrigerator. It's practically empty. Jack takes out a jar of mustard, opens it and uses a bu*ter knife to eat it.] CUT TO: Interior Doctor's Office [Jack, eyes puffy, face pale, sits before an intern, who studies him with bemusement.] INTERN: No, you can't die of insomnia. JACK: Maybe I died already. Look at my face. INTERN: You need to lighten up. JACK: Can't you give me something? JACK (V.O.): Red-and-blue Tuinal, lipstick-red Seconals. INTERN: You need healthy, natural sleep. Chew valerian root and get some more exercise. [The Intern ushes Jack to the door. They step into the hallway. The Intern walks away from Jack, picks up a chart.] JACK: I'm in pain. INTERN: *facetious* You want to see pain? Swing by First Methodist Tuesday nights. See the guys with testicular cancer. That's pain. [The Intern moves into the other room. Jack stares after him.] CUT TO: Exterior First Methodist Church [Jack heads for the front door.] [Jack stares at a group of men, including Bob, who are all listening to a group member speak at a lectern. The speaker has pale skin and sunken eyes -- he's clearly dying.] SPEAKER: I... wanted three kids. Two boys and a girl. Mindy wanted two girls and one boy. We never could agree on anything. [The Speaker cracks a sad smile. Some men chuckle, happy to lighten the mood.] SPEAKER: Well, she had her first child a month ago, a girl, with her new husband... And, Thank God. I'm glad for her, because she deserves... The speaker breaks down, WEEPS UNCONTROLLABLY. Jack watches. A couple of the men go up to the speaker, comforting him, leading him away. A LEADER takes the stand. LEADER: Everyone, let's thank Thomas for sharing himself with us. Jack, uncomfortable, joins EVERYONE ELSE: EVERYONE: (in unison) Thank you, Thomas. LEADER: I look around this room and I see a lot of courage. And it gives me strength. We give each other strength. Jack looks around. Many of the men are sniffling, sobbing. Jack squirms in his seat. LEADER: It's time for the one-on-one. Let's follow Thomas's example and open ourselves. Everyone gets out of their chairs and begins pairing-off. Jack stands, uncomfortable. LEADER: Can everyone find a partner? Bob, his chin down on his chest, starts toward Jack, shuffling his feet. JACK (V.O.): The big moosie, his eyes already shrink-wrapped in tears. Knees together, invisible steps. Bob takes Jack into an embrace. JACK (V.O.): Bob was a champion bodybuilder. You know that chest expansion program you see on TV? That was his idea. BOB: ...using steroids. I was a juicer. Diabonol, then, Wisterol -- it's for racehorses, for Christsake. Now I'm bankrupt, divorced, my two grown kids won't return my calls... JACK (V.O.): Strangers with this kind of honesty make me go a big rubbery one. Bob breaks into sobbing, putting his head on Jack's shoulder and completely covering Jack's face. After a long beat of crying, Bob raises up his head, looks at Jack's NAMETAG. BOB: Go ahead, Cornelius. You can cry. They look at each other. Slowly, Jack's eyes grow wet. JACK (V.O.): Then... something happened. I was lost in oblivion -- dark and silent and complete. Bob pulls Jack's head back into his chest. Jack tightens his arms around Bob. JACK (V.O.): I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom. Jack pulls away from Bob. On Bob's chest, there's a WET MASK of Jack's face from how he looks weeping. JACK (V.O.): Babies don't sleep this well. INT. JACK'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Jack lies sound asleep. JACK (V.O.): I became addicted. INT. SMALL PROTESTANT CHURCH - NIGHT Jack moves into a "group hug" of sickly people, men and women. In view is a sign by the door "Free and Clear." INT. OFFICE BUILDING BASEMENT - NIGHT Jack stands with a weeping middle-aged WOMAN. He begins to cry along with her. A sign by the door: "Onward and Upward." JACK (V.O.): If I didn't say anything, people a**umed the worst. They cried harder. I cried harder. INT. PUBLIC BUILDING CONFERENCE ROOM - NIGHT Everyone, including Jack, sits back in their seats, EYES CLOSED. The Leader speaks into a microphone. LEADER: Tonight, we're going to open the green door -- the heart chakra... JACK (V.O.): I wasn't really dying, I wasn't host to cancer or parasites; I was the warm little center that the life of this world crowded around. LEADER: ...And you open the door and you step inside. We're inside our hearts. Now, imaging your pain as a white ball of healing light. That's right, the pain itself is a ball of healing light. Jack, eyes closed, is silent... LEADER: It moves over your body, healing you. Keep this going and step forward, through the back door of the room. Where does it lead? To your cave. Step forward into your cave. INT. CAVE - JACK'S IMAGINATION Jack walks along, moving through an ICE CAVERN... LEADER'S VOICE: That's right. You're going deeper into your cave. And you're going to find your power animal... Jack comes upon a PENGUIN. The penguin looks at him, co*ks his head to signal Jack forward. PENGUIN Slide. The penguin jumps onto a patch of ICE and slides away. EXT. STREET - NIGHT Jack walks out a doorway, saying goodbye to people. He walks down the sidewalk, shining with peace. JACK (V.O.): Every evening I died and every evening I was born again. Resurrected. CUT BACK TO: INT. FIRST METHODIST CHURCH MEETING ROOM - RESUMING Jack's still in an embrace with Bob. JACK (V.O.): Bob loved me because he thought my testicles were removed too. Being there, my face against his tits, ready to cry -- this was my vacation. MARLA SINGER enters. She has short matte black hair and big, dark eyes like a character from japanese animation. JACK (V.O.): And, she ruined everything. Marla looks around, raises a cigarette to her lips. MARLA This is cancer, right? Bob and Jack stare, dumbfounded. INT. FIRST METHODIST CHURCH MEETING ROOM - LATER Everyone paired-off. MOVE THROUGH ROOM... FIND JACK'S FACE as he stares... MOVE THROUGH ROOM... FIND MARLA'S FACE. She's drinking coffee, smoking a cigarette. JACK (V.O.): This ... chick ... Marla Singer ... did not have testicular cancer. She was a liar. INT. SMALL PROTESTANT CHURCH - NIGHT Marla sits with the group, smoking, listening intently while a member speaks. Jack spies on her. JACK (V.O.): She had no diseases at all. I had seen her at my melanoma Monday night group ... INT. CATHOLIC CATHEDRAL - NIGHT Marla sits at the end of a row, smoking. All the faces down the row are turned toward her, incredulous... JACK (V.O.): ... and at "Free and Clear," my blood parasites group Thursdays. Jack leans out further than the others, scornful. JACK (V.O.): -- And, again, at "Seize The Day," my tuberculosis Friday night. CUT BACK TO: INT. FIRST METHODIST CHURCH MEETING ROOM - ANOTHER NIGHT Jack watches... Marla's eyes are closed, her head on the shoulder of the MAN she's embraced by. She opens her eyes, catching Jack's stare. Jack looks away. JACK (V.O.): Marla -- the big tourist. Her lie reflected my lie. Marla rests her chin on the man's shoulder. Tears roll down her cheeks. She wipes at them. EXT. FIRST METHODIST CHURCH - NIGHT Marla walks out, The support group's dispersing. Jack exits amongst them. He spots Marla walking away. JACK (V.O.): And suddenly, I felt nothing. I couldn't cry. So, once again, I could not sleep. Jack stares after Marla for a long moment. He walks away. INT. BEDROOM - LATER Jack, in underwear, is cross-legged on the floor, a**embling IKEA furniture, CORDLESS PHONE shouldered to his ear. JACK: (into phone) No, I just can't believe that card is declined -- Okay, okay, let me give you a different card number. Jack gets his wallet off the floor, pulls out another card and, MOS over the following, he reads it into the phone. JACK (V.O.): Next group, after guided meditation, after we open our chakras, when it's time to hug, I'm going to grab that little b**h, Marla Singer, pin her arms against her sides and say... INT. MEETING ROOM - NIGHT - JACK'S IMAGINATION CLOSE ON JACK as he CLAMPS his arms around Marla. JACK: Marla, you liar, you big tourist. I need this. Get out. INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Jack, in pajamas, stares at Home Shopping Network on his TV. JACK (V.O.): When you have insomnia, you're never really asleep and you're never really awake. I hadn't slept in four days... INT. SMALL PROTESTANT CHURCH - NIGHT Jack walks in and joins the crowd, looking around. People are chattering with each other. JACK (V.O.): -- But, in here, in everyone, there's the squint of a five-day headache. Yet they forced themselves to be positive. They never said "parasite;" they said "agent." They always talked about getting better. LEADER: Okay, everyone. Everyone sits in chairs. Jack catches sight of Marla. LEADER: To open tonight's communion, Chloe would like to say a few words. Taking the lectern is CHLOE, a pale, sickly girl whose skin stretches yellowish and tight over her bones. She wears a head bondage. She clears her throat. JACK (V.O.): Ahh, Chloe. Chloe looked the way Joni Mitchell's skeleton would look if you made it smile and walk around a party being extra nice to everyone. CHLOE Well, I'm still here -- but I don't know for how long. That's as much certainty as anyone can give me. but I've got some good news -- I no longer have any fear of d**h. APPLAUSE from around the room. CHLOE But... I am in a pretty lonely place. No one will have s** with me. I'm so close to the end and all I want is to get laid for the last time. I have p**nographic movies in my apartment, and lubricants and amyl nitrate ... The LEADER gingerly takes control of the microphone. LEADER: Thank you, Chloe. Everyone, let's thank Chloe. EVERYONE: Thank you, Chloe. INT. SMALL PROTESTANT CHURCH - LATER LEADER: Now, you're standing at the entrance to your cave. You step inside your cave and you walk. Keep walking. Jack's face, eyes closed, is motionless. JACK (V.O.): If I did have a tumor, I'd name it Marla. Marla...the little scratch on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop tonguing it, but you can't. LEADER: Now, find your power animal. INT. CAVE - JACK'S IMAGINATION Jack finds Marla smoking a cigarette. Marla co*ks her head, indicating whe wants him to -- MARLA Slide. INT. SMALL PROTESTANT CHURCH - RESUMING Jack's eyes open and turn to Marla, watching her blow smoke rings with her eyes closed. INT. SMALL PROTESTANT CHURCH - LATER Everyone stands and mills about, pairing-off. LEADER: Pick someone special to you tonight. Jack sees the ghastly spectre of Chloe ambling towards him. He tries to smile. She smiles with a twisted, dying mouth. CHLOE Hello, Mr. Tayler. JACK (V.O.): I never gave my real name at support groups. JACK: Hi, Chloe. CHLOE We've never actually talked. Chloe's eyes are eerily bright with desperation. Jack, in a sincere attempt at levity, chokes out: JACK: You look good. You ... look ... like a pirate. Chloe laughs, a little too much. Jack squeezes out a laugh. Then he sees Marla, off by herself. Someone heads for her. JACK: Excuse me, I have to... Jack gives a quick nod to Chloe and darts towards Marla. Chloe watches him go. STAY ON JACK AND MARLA as Jack CLAMPS his arms around her. He whispers into her ear. JACK: We need to talk. MARLA Sure. JACK: I'm on to you. You're a faker. You aren't dying. MARLA What? JACK: Okay, in the Sylvia Plath philosophy way, we're all dying. But you're not dying the way Chloe is dying. LEADER: Tell the other person how you feel. JACK: You're a tourist. I saw you at melanoma, tuberculosis and testicular cancer. MARLA And I saw you practicing this... JACK: Practicing what? MARLA Telling me off. Is it going as well as you hoped... ? (reads his nametag) "... Mr. Taylor." JACK: I'll expose you. MARLA Go ahead. I'll expose you. LEADER: Share yourself completely. Marla puts her head down on Jack's shoulder as if she were crying. Jack pulls her head back up. She deadpans at him. JACK: Why are you doing this? MARLA It's cheaper than a movie, and there's free coffee. JACK: These are my groups. I was here first. I've been coming for a year. MARLA A year? How'd you manage that? JACK: Anyone who might've noticed either died or recovered and never came back. LEADER: Let yourself cry. MARLA Why do you do it? JACK: I... I don't know. I guess... when people think you're dying, they really listen, instead... MARLA -- Instead of just waiting for their turn to speak. JACK: Yeah. Brief recognition between them, broken as the Leader pa**es. LEADER: Quietly, now. Share with each other. Jack waits till the Leader's out of earshot. JACK: (warning) It becomes an addiction. MARLA Really? Jack sighs, then pulls back. JACK: Look, I can't cry with a faker present. MARLA Candy-stripe a cancer ward. It's not my problem. JACK: Please. Can't we do something... ? Marla starts out of the room. Jack follows her. LEADER: Now, the closing prayer. EXT. CHURCH - NIGHT - CONTINUOUS Marla gets to the sidewalk, moving quickly along. JACK: We'll split up the week. You can have lymphoma, tuberculosis and -- MARLA You take tuberculosis. My smoking doesn't go over at all. JACK: I think testicular cancer should be no contest. MARLA Well, technically, I have more of a right to be there than you. You still have your balls. JACK: You're kidding. MARLA I don't know -- am I? Jack follow Marla into... INT. LAUNDROMAT - CONTINUOUS Marla walks with authority up to an unwatched DRYER. She takes out clothes, picks out jeans, pants and shirts. MARLA I'll take the parasites. JACK: You can't have both parasites. You can take blood parasites -- MARLA I want brain parasites. JACK: Okay. I'll take blood parasites and organic brain dementia -- MARLA I want that. JACK: You can't have the whole brain! MARLA So far, you have four and I only have two! JACK: Then, take blood parasites. It's yours. Now we each have three. Marla gathers the chosen garments and heads out past Jack... EXT. SIDEWALK - CONTINUOUS Jack follows, bewildered. JACK: You... left half your clothes. HONK! Jack starts. Marla's led him into the street with traffic barreling down. Marla walks on, oblivious as CARS screech to a halt, HORNS BLARING. Jack dashes, following... INT. THRIFT STORE - CONTINUOUS Marla drops the pile of clothes on a counter. An old CLERK sifts through the clothes, begins writing on a pad. JACK: You're selling those? Marla steps down hard on Jack's foot. He winces in pain. MARLA (for the Clerk to hear) Yes, I'm selling some chothes. The Clerk starts to ring up the a**essed amounts. MARLA So, we each have three -- that's six. What about the seventh day? I want ascending bowel cancer. JACK (V.O.): The girl had done her homework. JACK: I want ascending bowel cancer. The Clerk gives a strange look as he hands money to Marla. MARLA That's your favorite, too? Tried to slip it by me, eh? JACK: We'll split it. You get it the first and third Sunday of the month. MARLA Deal. They shake. Jack tries to withdraw his hand; Marla holds it. MARLA Looks like this is goodbye. JACK: Let's not make a big thing out of it. She walks to the door, pocketing money, not looking back. MARLA How's this for not making a big thing? Jack watches her go. A moment, then he follows after... EXT. SIDEWALK - CONTINUOUS Jack hesitates, unsure, then run/walks to catch up to her... JACK: Um... Marla, should we maybe exchange numbers? MARLA Should we? JACK: In case we want to switch nights. MARLA I suppose. Jack takes out a business card, writes his number on the back, hands it to her. She takes the pen, grabs his hand and writes her number on his palm. She walks into the street, causing more SCREECHING and HONKING. She turns, holds up the card. MARLA It doesn't have your name. Who are you? Cornelius? Mr. Taylor? Dr. Zaius? Any of the stupid names you give each night? Jack starts to answer, but the traffic noise is too loud. Marla just shakes her head, turns, and keeps moving. A BUS moves into view, obscuring her. JACK (V.O.): This is how I met Marla Singer. INT. AIRPLANE CABIN - DAY The plane touches down; the cabin BUMPS. Jack's eyes open. JACK (V.O.): You wake up at O'Hare. INT. AIRPLANE CABIN - DAY Jack snaps awake again, looking around, disoriented. JACK (V.O.): You wake up at SeaTac. EXT. HIGHWAY - DUSK The rear of a CRASHED CAR sticks up by the side of the road. Jack stands, marking on a clipboard. The SUN SETS behind. INT. AIRPORT - NIGHT Jack stands at a gate counter. An ATTENDANT smiles at him. ATTENDANT Check-in for that flight doesn't begin for another two hours, Sir. Jack looks with blearing eyes at his watch, steps away and looks at an overhanging CLOCK. JACK (V.O.): Pacific, Mountain, Central. Lose an hour, gain an hour. This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time. INT. AIRPLANE CABIN - DAY Jack's eyes snap open as the plane LANDS. JACK (V.O.): You wake up at Air Harbor International. INT. AIRPORT WALKWAY Jack stands on a conveyor belt, briefcase at his feet. He watches PEOPLE MOVING PAST on the opposite conveyor. JACK (V.O.): If you wake up at a different time and in a different place, could you wake up as a different person? Jack misses seeing TYLER on the opposite conveyor belt. They pa** each other. INT. AIRPLANE CABIN - IN FLIGHT - NIGHT Jack sits next to a BUSINESSMAN. As they have idle CONVERSATION, we MOVE IN ON Jack's tray. An ATTENDANT'S HANDS set coffee down with a small container of cream. JACK (V.O.): Everywhere I travel -- tiny life. Single-serving sugar, single-serving cream, single pat of bu*ter. CUT TO: HANDS place a dinner tray down. JACK (V.O.): Microwave Cordon Bleu hobby kit. INT. HOTEL ROOM - BATHROOM - NIGHT Jack brushes his teeth in the MIRROR. JACK (V.O.): Shampoo/conditioner combo. Single- serving mouthwash, tiny bar of soap. Jack picks up an individual, wrapped Q-TIP, looks at it. He moves out of the bathroom into... MAIN ROOM Jack sits on the bed. He turns on the TV. It's tuned to the "Sheraton Channel," shows WAITERS serving people in a large BANQUET ROOM. Jack stops brushing his teeth, feels something on the bed, lifts it -- a small DINNER MINT. INT. AIRPLANE CABIN - IN FLIGHT - NIGHT Jack sits next to a frumpy WOMAN. They chat. Jack turns to look at his food, takes a bite. He turns back and it's... --a BALD MAN next to him, talking. Jack takes another bite, turns back and it's... --a BUSINESSMAN next to him. Jack takes another bite, turns back, and it's... --a BUSINESS WOMAN next to him. JACK (V.O.): The people I meet on each flight -- they're single-serving friends. Between take-off and landing, we have our time together, but that's all we get. INT. AIRPLANE CABIN - LANDING Jack's eyes snap open. JACK (V.O.): You wake up at Logan. INT. WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS A giant corrugated METAL DOOR opens. JACK (V.O.): On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero. Two TECHNICIANS lead Jack to the BURNT-OUT SHELL of a WRECKED AUTOMOBILE. Jack sets down his briefcase, opens it and starts to make notes on a CLIPBOARDED FORM. JACK (V.O.): I'm a recall coordinator. My job is to apply the formula. It's a story problem. TECHNICIAN #1 Here's where the infant went through the windshield. Three points. JACK (V.O.): A new car built by my company leaves somewhere traveling at 60 miles per hour. The rear differential locks up. TECHNICIAN #2 The teenager's braces around the backseat ashtray would make a good "anti-smoking" ad. JACK (V.O.): The car crashes and burns with everyone trapped inside. Now: do we initiate a recall? TECHNICIAN #1 The father must've been huge. See how the fat burnt into the driver's seat with his polyester shirt? Very "modern art." JACK (V.O.): Take the number of vehicles in the field, (A), and multiply it by the probable rate of failure, (B), then multiply the result by the average out-of-court settlement, (C). A times B times C equals X... CUT TO: INT. AIRPLANE CABIN - MOVING DOWN RUNWAY Jack is speaking to the BUSINESSWOMAN next to him. JACK: If X is less than the cost of a recall, we don't do one. BUSISNESS WOMAN Are there a lot of these kinds of accidents? JACK: Oh, you wouldn't believe. BUSINESS WOMAN ... Which... car company do you work for? JACK: A major one. Turgid silence. Jack turns to the window. He sees a PELICAN get su*kED into the TURBINE. JACK (V.O.): Every time the plane banked too sharply on take-off or landing, I prayed for a crash, or a mid-air collision -- anything. Jack's face remains bland during the following: the plane BUCKLES -- the cabin wobbles. People panic. Masks drop. JACK (V.O.): No more haircuts. Nothing matters, not even bad breath. The side of the plane SHEARS OFF! Screaming PASSENGERS are s**ed out into the night air, flying past the quivering wind. Magazines and other objects fly everywhere. JACK (V.O.): Life insurance pays off triple if you die on a business trip. Jack remains in his same position, same bland expression. DING! -- the seatbelt light goes OUT. Jack SNAPS AWAKE. EVERYTHING IS NORMAL. Some pa**engers get out of their seats. From next to Jack, a VOICE we've heard before... VOICE There are three ways to make napalm. One, mix equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice... Jack turns to see TYLER. Without turned to Jack, Tyler continues: Tyler: Two, equal parts gasoline and diet cola. Three, dissolve kitty-litter in gasoline until the mixture is thick. JACK: Pardon me? Tyler turns to Jack. JACK (V.O.): This is how I met -- Tyler: Tyler Durden. Tyler offers his hand. Jack takes it. Tyler: You know why they have oxygen masks on planes? JACK: No, supply oxygen? Tyler: Oxygen gets you high. In a catastrophic emergency, we're taking giant, panicked breaths... Tyler grabs a safety instruction CARD from the seatback, hands it to Jack. Tyler: Suddenly, we become euphoic and docile. We accept our fate. Tyler points to pa**ive faces on the drawn figures. Tyler: Emergency water landing, 600 miles per hour. Blank faces -- calm as Hindu cows. Jack laughs. JACK: What do you do, Tyler? Tyler: What do you want me to do? JACK: I mean -- for a living. Tyler: Why? So you can say, "Oh, that's what you do." -- And be a smug little sh** about it? Jack laughs. Tyler reaches under the seat in front of him and lifts a BRIEFCASE. Tyler: You have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh. Jack points to his own briefcase. JACK: We have the same briefcase. Tyler turns the top of his briefcase toward Jack. Tyler: Open it. Jack looks at Tyler, then pops the latches and raises the lid to reveal quaintly-wrapped bars of SOAP. Tyler: Soap -- the yardstick of civilization. (reaches in his pocket) I make and sell soap... Tyler hands Jack his card. "THE PAPER STREET SOAP COMPANY." Tyler: If you were to add nitric acid to the soap-making process, one would get nitroglycerin. With enough soap, one could blow up the world, if one were so inclined. Tyler SNAPS the briefcase shut. Jack stares. JACK: Tyler, you are by far the most interesting "single-serving" friend I've ever met. Tyler stares back. Jack, enjoying his own chance to be witty, leans closer to Tyler. JACK: You see, when you travel, everything is small, self-contained-- Tyler: The spork. I get it. You're very clever. JACK: Thank you. Tyler: How's that working out for you? JACK: What? Tyler: Being clever. JACK: (thrown) Well, uh... great. Tyler: Keep it up, then. Keep it right up. Tyler stands, looks towards the aisle. Tyler: ... As I squeeze past, do I give you the a** or the crotch? Tyler moves to the aisle, his a** toward jack, walks away... Tyler: We are defined by the choices we make. Tyler goes to the curtain dividing First Cla**, slaps the curtain aside and sits in an empty seat. Jack watches. JACK (V.O.): How I came to live with Tyler is: airlines have this policy about vibrating luggage. INT. BAGGAGE CLAIM AREA - NIGHT Utterly empty of baggage. No people except for Jack and a SECURITY TASK FORCE MAN. The Security TFM, smirking, holds a receiver to his ear from an official phone on the wall. SECURITY TFM (to Jack) Throwers don't worry about ticking. Modern bombs don't tick. JACK: Excuse me? "Throwers?" SECURITY TFM Baggage handlers. But when a suitcase vibrates, the throwers have to call the police. JACK: My suitcase was vibrating? SECURITY TFM Nine time out of ten, it's an electric razor. But, every once in a while ... (whispers) ...it's a dil*o. It's airline policy not to imply ownership in the event of a dil*o. We use the indefinite aricle: "A dil*o." Never "Your dil*o." Jack sees, through the window, Tyler, at the curb, throwing his briefcase into the back of a shiny, red CONVERTIBLE. Tyler leaps over the door into the driver's seat and PEELS OUT. jack turns away, looks at the Security TFM. In the background, a HARRIED MAN dashes after Tyler and the convertible, SCREAMING. JACK: (to Security TFM) I had everything in that bag. My C.K. shirts... my D.K.N.Y. shoes... SECURITY TFM (into phone) Yeah, uh huh... yeah? (pause, still on phone) Oh... EXT. EMPTY RUNWAY A lone SUITCASE sits on the concrete. SECURITY PERSONNEL keep their distance. KABOOM! The suitcase explodes. INT. BAGGAGE CLAIM AREA - RESUMING The Security TFM, shakes his head, hangs up. SECURITY TFM I'm terribly sorry. The Security TFM hands Jack a claim form. Jack snatches it, disgusted, takes out a pen, starts filling out the form. SECURITY TFM You know the industry slang for "Flight Attendant?" "Air Mattress." INT. TAXI - MOVING - NIGHT Along a residential street. Jack looks ahead, sees a tall, grey, bland BUILDING on the corner. JACK (V.O.): Home was a condo on the fifteenth floor of a filing cabinet for widows and young professionals. The walls were solid concrete. A foot of concrete is important when your next- door neighbor lets her hearing aid go and has to watch game shows at full volume... The taxi turns a corner and Jack sees the front of the building. A diffuse CLOUD of SMOKE wafts away from a BLOWN- OUT SECTION of the fifteenth floor. FIRETRUCKS, POLICE CARS and a MOB are all crowded around the lobby area. JACK (V.O.): -- Or when a volcanic blast of debris that used to be your furniture and personal effects blows out your floor- to-ceiling windows and sails flaming into the night. EXT. STREET IN FRONT OF BUILDING Jack, gaping at the sight above him, absently gives the Cabbie money. The taxi pulls away. Jack starts toward the building. He pushes through the fray of people, into the... INT. LOBBY The DOORMAN sees Jack enter, gives a sad smile, shakes his head. Jack starts for the elevator. DOORMAN: There's nothing up there. Jack presses the bu*ton. The Doorman moves next to him. DOORMAN: You can't go into the unit. Police orders. The elevator doors open. Jack hesitates. The doors close. Jack heads out the lobby doors. The Doorman follows... EXT. CONDO BUILDING - CONTINUOUS Jack walks past SMOKING, CHARRED DEBRIS -- a flash of ORANGE from the Yang table, a CLOCK FACE from the hall clock, part of an arm from the GREEN ARMCHAIR. His feet CRUNCH gla**. JACK (V.O.): How embarra**ing. DOORMAN: Do you have somebody you can call? Jack comes to his REFRIGERATOR lying on its side. He reaches down and takes a note: "MARLA --" and a phone number, from under a BANANA MAGNET. CLOSE SHOT - JACK'S STOVE Hissing. JACK (V.O.): The police would later tell me that the pilot light might have gone out... letting out just a little bit of gas. EXT. PAYPHONE - RESUMING Jack gets to a PAYPHONE. The Doorman follows, watching him. DOORMAN: Lots of young people try to impress the world and buy too many things. Jack picks up the receiver, puts in a quarter. He looks at Marla's number a long moment. CLOSE SHOT - JACK'S ENTIRE CONDO - KITCHEN AND LIVING ROOM The SOUND of the HISS... JACK (V.O.): The gas could have slowly filled the condo. Seventeen-hundred square feet with high ceilings, for days and days. EXT. PAYPHONE - RESUMING Jack replaces the receiver. He pockets Marla's number, digs out a small filofax. He flips through the pages for phone numbers and addresses. Most of the pages are blank. DOORMAN: Many young people feel trapped and desperate. JACK (V.O.): Then, the refrigerator's compressor could have clicked on... [Jack looks at the Doorman. Tyler's business card falls from the Filofax. Jack catches it.] DOORMAN: If you don't know what you want, you end up with a lot you don't. [The Doorman walks away. Jack stares at Tyler's card.] JACK (V.O.): If you asked me now, I couldn't tell you why I called him. [Jack re-deposits the quarter, dials Tyler's number. It rings... and rings and rings. Jack sighs and hangs up the phone. A moment, then the phone rings.] JACK: Hello? Tyler's Voice: Who's this? JACK: Tyler? Tyler's Voice: Who's this? JACK: Uh... I'm sorry. We met on the plane. We had the same briefcase. I'm... you know, the clever guy. Tyler's Voice: Oh, yeah. JACK: I just called a second ago. There was no answer. I'm at a payphone. Tyler's Voice: I star-sixty-nined you. I never pick up my phone. What's up? JACK: Well... let me see... here's the thing...