By Jim Uhls

PG 1

SCREEN BLACK

JACK (V.O.)

People were always asking me, did I know Tyler Durden.

FADE IN:

INT. SOCIAL ROOM - TOP FLOOR OF HIGH-RISE - NIGHT

TYLER has the barrel of a HANDGUN lodged in JACK'S MOUTH. They

struggle intensely.

They are both around 30; Tyler is blond, handsome, eyes burning with

frightening intensity; and JACK, brunette, is appealing in a dry sort

of way. They are both sweating and disheveled; Jack seems to be losing

his will to fight.

TYLER

We won't really die. We'll be immortal.

JACK

oor -- ee-ee --uh -- aa-i --

JACK (V.O.)

With a gun barrel between your teeth, you speak only in vowels.

Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth.

JACK (still distorted)

You're thinking of vampires.

Jack tries to get the gun. Tyler keeps control.

JACK (V.O.)

With my tongue, I can feel the silencer holes drilled into the barrel

of the gun. Most of the noise a gunshot makes is expanding gases. I

totally forgot about Tyler's whole murder-suicide thing for a second

and I wondered how clean the gun barrel was.

Tyler checks his watch.

TYLER

Three minutes.

Jack turns so that he can see down -- 71 STORIES.

PG 2

JACK (V.O.)

The building we're standing won't be here in three minutes. You take a

98-percent concentration of fuming nitric acid and add three times as

much sulfuric in a bathtub full of ice. Then, glycerin drop-by-drop.

Nitroglycerin. I know this because Tyler knows this.

Jack manages to SHOVE Tyler away. Then, he leaps onto him and they

fall onto a table, then roll off onto the floor. The gun falls and

slides. They wrestle with each other, then dash for the gun. Tyler

gets there first and grabs the gun. DURING THE ABOVE:

JACK (V.O.)

The Demolitions Committee of Project Mayhem wrapped the foundation

columns of this building with blasting gelatin. The primary charge

will blow the base charge, and this spot Tyler and I are standing on

will be a point in the sky.

Tyler drags Jack back to the glass wall and forces him to look out at

the city skyline.

TYLER

This is our world now. Two minutes.

JACK (V.O.)

Two minutes to go and I'm wondering how I got here.

MOVE IN ON JACK'S FACE.

SLOWLY PULL BACK from Jack's face. It's pressed against TWO LARGE

BREASTS that belong to ... BOB, a big moose of a man, around 35 years

old. Jack is engulfed by Bob's arms in an embrace. Bob weeps openly.

His shoulders inhale themselves up in a long draw, then drop, drop,

drop in jerking sobs. Jack gives Bob some squeezes in return, but his

face is stone.

JACK (V.O.)

Bob had bitch tits.

PG 3

PULL BACK TO WIDE ON

INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYMNASIUM - NIGHT

All the men are paired off, hugging each other, talking in emotional

tones. Some pairs lean forward, heads pressed ear-to-ear, the way

wrestlers stand, locked. Near the door a temporary 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

I owned my own gym. I did product endorsements.

JACK

You were a six-time champion.

JACK (V.O.)

Bob, the big cheesebread. Always told me his life story.

BOB

We're still men.

JACK

Yes. We're men. Men is what we are.

JACK (V.O.)

Bob cried. Six months ago, his testicles were removed. Then hormone

therapy. He developed bitch tits because his testosterone was too high

and his body upped the estrogen. That was where my head fit -- into

his sweating tits that hang enormous, the way we think of God's as big.

Bob hugs tighter, then looks with empathy into Jack's eyes.

BOB

Maybe it's just seminoma. With seminoma, you have a hundred percent

survival rate.

The Leader steps forward and signals everyone.

LEADER

Okay. Group hug.

PG 4

Everyone converges into a cluster with arms thrown around shoulders,

making a big mass of sobbing, smiling goodwill.

JACK (V.O.)

No. Wait. Back up. Let me start earlier.

INT. JACK'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jack lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. He hears VOICES from beyond

the wall. A FLY buzzes over his face. He swats at it, missing.

JACK (V.O.)

For six months. I couldn't sleep.

INT. DOCTOR'S OFFICE - DAY

Jack, eyes puffy, face pale, sits before the Doctor, who studies him

with bemusement.

DOCTOR

No, you can't die of insomnia.

JACK

Maybe I already died. Look at my face.

DOCTOR

You need to lighten up.

JACK

Can you give me something?

JACK (V.O.)

Little red-and-blue Tuinal, lipstick-red Seconals.

DOCTOR (overlapping w/ above)

You need healthy, natural sleep. Chew valerian root and get more

exercise.

The Doctor ushers Jack to the door. They step into the

INT. HALLWAY

Where the Doctor starts moving away from Jack, picking up a chart on a

door.

JACK

I'm in pain.

PG 5

DOCTOR (facetious)

You want to see pain? Swing by Meyer High on a Tuesday night and see

the guys with testicular cancer.

The Doctor moves into the other room. Jack stares after him somberly.

MOVE IN ON JACK'S FACE.

PULL BACK TO WIDE ON:

INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYMNASIUM - NIGHT

Jack stares at a group of men, including Bob, who are all listening to

a group member speak at a lectern. The speaker has death-white skin

and sunken eyes -- he's clearly dying.

SPEAKER

I ... wanted to have three kids. Two boys and a girl. Mindy wanted

two girls and one boy. We never agreed on anything.

The Speaker cracks a sad smile. Some men chuckle, happy to lighten the

mood.

SPEAKER

Well ... she had her first girl a month ago ... with her new husband.

Thank God, because she deserves ...

The speaker breaks down and WEEPS UNCONTROLLABLY. Jack is riveted. He

barely breathes. CUT TO:

INT. GYM - LATER

A Leader herds people into pairing-off.

LEADER

Find a partner.

Bob starts toward Jack, shuffling his feet. Jack watches him, still

moved by his experience, face full of intense empathy.

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.)

He pancaked down on top of me.

PG 6

BOB

Two grown kids ... and they won't return my calls.

JACK (V.O.)

Strangers with this kind of honesty make me go a big rubbery one.

Jack's face is rapt and sincere. Bob stops talking and breaks into

sobbing, putting his head down on Jack's shoulder and completely

covering Jack's face.

JACK (V.O.)

Then, I was lost in oblivion -- dark and silent and complete.

Jack's body begins to jerk in sobs. He tightens his arms around Bob.

JACK (V.O.)

This was freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.

Jack pulls back from Bob. On Bob's chest, there's a WET MASK of Jack's

face from how he looked weeping.

JACK (V.O.)

Babies don't sleep this well.

INT. JACKS' 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".

JACK (V.O.)

I felt more alive than I've ever felt.

INT. OFFICE BUILDING BASEMENT - NIGHT

Jack pulls back from a group hug of more sickly people. They pair-off.

Jack stands with a weeping middle-aged WOMAN. He gingerly takes her in

his arms, pats her back. He begins to cry along with her. In view is

a sign by the door: "Onward and Upward".

PG 7

JACK (V.O.)

If I didn't say anything, people assumed the worst. They cried harder.

I cried harder.

INT. CATHOLIC CATHEDRAL - NIGHT

Jack is in an embrace with a YOUNG MAN. They are both weeping.

JACK (V.O.)

I wasn't really dying. I wasn't host to cancer or parasites; no, I was

the warm little center that the life of this world crowded around.

INT. PUBLIC BUILDING CONFERENCE ROOM - NIGHT

Everyone settles in their seats and a Leader takes the microphone.

LEADER

Okay, everyone, close your eyes. Imagine your pain as a white ball of

healing light. Go down your secret path to your cave and join up with

your power animal.

EXT. ENTRANCE OF CAVE (JACK'S IMAGINATION)

Jack walks up to the entrance and out comes a PENGUIN. The penguin

looks at him, smiles.

PENGUIN

Slide.

EXT. STREET - NIGHT

Jack walks out of a doorway, saying goodbye to people. He walks down

the sidewalk, his face shining with peace.

JACK (V.O.)

Every evening I died and every evening I was born. Resurrected.

CUT BACK TO:

PG 8

INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYMNASIUM - *RESUMING*

Jack still hanging 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, getting 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.

MARLA

This is cancer, right?

She raises a cigarette to her lips. The men gape at her, dumbfounded.

JACK (V.O.)

And *she* ruined everything.

CUT TO:

INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYMNASIUM - LATER

Everyone paired-off. MOVE THROUGH ROOM and catch snippets of

intimate, painful CONVERSATION.

FIND JACK'S FACE as it stares, over Bob's shoulder, eyes full of deep

hostility.

JACK (V.O.)

Liar. Faker. Liar.

MOVE THROUGH ROOM, hearing more CONVERSATION.

FIND MARLA'S FACE, over the shoulder of a MAN she's being embraced by,

SMOKING, blowing smoke rings.

JACK (V.O.)

This ... chick ... Marla Singer... did not have testicular cancer. She

had no diseases. She was a liar. I saw her at "We Shall Overcome," my

melanoma group Monday night ...

INT. SMALL PROTESTANT CHURCH - NIGHT

Marla sits with the group, smoking, while a member speaks. Jack glares

at her.

PG 9

INT. CATHOLIC CATHEDRAL - NIGHT

Everyone sits with eyes closed while a speaker takes them through a

meditation. Various COUGHING around the room. Jack's eyes open and he

glares at Marla. Her eyes are closed and she's smoking a cigarette.

JACK (V.O.)

... at "Seize The Day," my tuberculosis group Friday night.

CUT BACK TO:

INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYMNASIUM - RESUMING

Jack continues to glare at Marla. Her eyes briefly catch his, then

roll. Another puff of the cigarette.

JACK (V.O.)

Marla -- the big tourist. The faker. With her there, I was a faker,

too. Her lie reflected my lie. And all of a sudden, I felt nothing.

With her there, I couldn't cry.

INT. JACK'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jack, fully clothed, lies on top of his bed, holding a cordless phone

to his ear. He stares at the ceiling and swats at a fly.

JACK (V.O.)

So, once again, I couldn't sleep.

Jack hears something on the phone. He sits up.

JACK

I've been holding for thirty minutes.

Spread all over the floor by Jack's feet are INVOICES for CREDIT CARDS.

JACK

Yes, that's right. Yes, but I transferred part of my balance to my

Visa to get the lower rate. Oh, wait. No, it wasn't your Visa. Okay,

I transferred all of the MasterCard ... to ... (MORE)

PG 10

JACK (CONT'D)

Look, can I just come down in person? I live here -- in Wilmington.

Yes, all my credit cards have main headquarters here. No? Why not?

Why can't I speak to an account rep? No, wait, don't put me on --

Jack reacts to being put on hold.

INT. BATHROOM - MOMENTS LATER

Jack sits on the toilet. He digs through a magazine rack. IKEA

catalogues, Pottery Barn catalogues and more of the kind. Jack opens

an IKEA catalog and flips through it.

JACK (V.O.)

I had become a slave to the IKEA nesting instinct. If I saw something

like the clever Njurunda coffee tables in the shape of a lime green Yin

and an orange Yang --

Move in on PHOTO of the tables. CUT TO:

INT. JACK'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Completely EMPTY.

JACK (V.O.)

I had to have it.

The Njurunda tables APPEAR.

INSERT - PHOTO OF SOFAS

JACK (V.O.)

The Haparanda sofa group ...

INT. JACK'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

The sofa group APPEARS.

JACK (V.O.)

... with the orange slip covers by Erika Pekkari. The Johanneshov

armchair in the Strinne green stripe pattern.

The armchair APPEARS.

PG 11

JACK (V.O.)

The Rislampa/Har lamps from wire and environmentally-friendly

unbleached paper.

The lamp APPEARS.

JACK (V.O.)

The Vild hall clock of galvanized steel.

The clock APPEARS.

JACK (V.O.)

The Klipsk shelving unit.

The shelving unit APPEARS.

INT. BATHROOM - RESUMING

Jack flips the page of the catalogue to reveal a full-page photo of an

entire kitchen and dining room set.

JACK (V.O.)

I would flip and wonder, "What kind of dining room set *defines* me as

a person?"

Jack drops the catalog down, open to this spread. PAN OVER to the

magazine stack -- there's an old, tattered PLAYBOY.

JACK (V.O.)

It used to be Playboys; now -- IKEA.

INT. JACK'S KITCHEN AND DINING ROOM - CONTINUOUS

-- Looking exactly like the photo in the catalogue. Jack walks in with

the cordless phone still glued to his ear.

JACK

I want to transfer my balance to get a lower interest rate.

Jack looks over the whole kitchen, dining room, and the living room

beyond.

JACK (V.O.)

The things you own, they end up owning you.

Jack opens a cabinet, takes out a plate.

PG 12

JACK (V.O.)

My hand-blown green glass dishes with the 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 butter knife to eat it.

INT. BEDROOM - LATER

Jack lies on the bed, phone still at his ear.

JACK

I want to talk to a live person.

Jack reacts, listens, impatiently punches a single number; waits,

listens, punches another single number; listens. He rolls over, looks

at one of the bills on the floor and punches an entire credit card

number.

JACK (V.O.)

Next support group, after guided meditation, the white healing ball of

light, after we open our chakras, when it comes time to hug, I'm going

to grab that little bitch, Marla Singer, squeeze her arms down against

her sides and say ...

JACK

Marla, you liar, you big tourist. Get out.

Jack yawns, rubs his eyes. They stay wide open. He punches another

number into the phone. He sees a LEVITATING, STEAMING Starbucks paper

coffee cup move from side to side in front of his face.

INT. COPY ROOM - DAY

Jack stands over a copy machine. The Starbucks cup sits on the lid,

moving back and forth as the machine makes 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.

PG 13

INT. OFFICE AREA - DAY

Floor-to-ceiling glass instead of walls. Industrial low-pile gray

carpet. Walls of upholstered plywood. There are four small offices

connected by a hallway to one large office.

INT. JACK'S OFFICE - SAME

Jack, sipping from a Starbucks cup, stares blankly at his Starbucks bag

on the floor, full of newspapers.

JACK (V.O.)

When deep space exploitation 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 in his late thirties, enters. Starbucks

cup in hand, pulls up a chair, and slides a stack of reports on Jack's

desk. He pats Jack's back in a superficially-friendly way.

PUDGY MAN

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. My Boss 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?

PUDGY MAN - "BOSS"

You need to make these your primary "action items".

JACK (V.O.)

He was full of pep. Must've had his latte enema.

BOSS

Here's your flight coupons. Call me from the road if there's any

snags. Your itinerary ...

Jack hides a yawn and pretends to listen.

PG 14

JACK (V.O.)

When you have insomnia, you're never really awake and you're never

really asleep, either.

INT. SMALL PROTESTANT CHURCH - NIGHT

Jack walks in and joins the crowd.

LEADER

Okay, everyone. Chloe.

Jack catches sight of Marla, scowls at her. Taking the lectern is

CHLOE, a pale, sickly girl whose skin stretches yellowish and tight

around her bones. She wears a head bandage. OVER the beginning of her

SPEECH:

JACK (V.O.)

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

My status update is ... I'm still here -- but I don't know for how

long. That's as much certainty as they can give me. I'm in a pretty

lonely place. No one will have sex with me. I'm so close to death and

all I want is to get laid for the last time. I have pornographic

movies in my apartment, and lubricants and amyl nitrate ...

The LEADER hardly knows what to do. He inches his way to the lectern,

and gingerly takes control of the microphone.

LEADER

Thank you, Chloe. Everyone, close your eyes for meditation. Go to

your cave and find your power animal.

EXT. ENTRANCE OF CAVE (JACK'S IMAGINATION)

Jack walks up to the entrance and finds MARLA -- smoking a cigarette

blowing smoke into his face, rolling her eyes in condescension.

MARLA

Slide.

PG 15

INT. CHRUCH - RESUMING

Jack's eyes snap open and turn to Marla. He glowers, watching her

smoke with her eyes closed.

INT. CHURCH - LATER

The Leader, smiling opens his eyes and looks around the group.

LEADER

Good. Now. Pair off for the one-on-one. Pick someone special to you

tonight.

Everyone stands and mills about, slowly pairing-off. Jack sees the

ghastly spectre of Chloe coming towards him. He smiles at her. She

smiles back; it takes her some time to amble to him.

CHLOE

Hello, Cornelius.

JACK (V.O.)

I never gave my real name at support groups.

CHLOE

I'm showing signs of improvement.

JACK (V.O.)

Everyone was always getting better. They never said "parasite"; they

said "agent".

She smiles at him with a twisted, dying mouth. Her eyes eerily bright

with desperation. Jack's lip trembles as he, in a sincere attempt at

levity, chokes out:

JACK

You ... look ... like a pirate.

Chloe laughs, a little too much. Jack squeezes out a laugh. Then, he

sees Marla, off by herself. Someone is heading for her. Most people

have paired-off. Jack gives a quick nod to Chloe and darts for Marla,

grabbing her. Chloe watches in sad surprise.

STAY ON JACK AND MARLA as he drags her off to the periphery. He

whispers into her ear.

JACK

We need to talk.

PG 16

MARLA

O - *kay*. Sure.

JACK

You're a faker. You aren't dying. Okay, in the brainy brain-food

philosophy way, we're all dying. But you're not dying the way Chloe is

dying.

LEADER

Tell the other person how you feel.

MARLA

You're not dying, either ...

(reading his nametag)

... *Cornelius*.

LEADER

Share yourself completely.

JACK

These are my groups. I found them!

MARLA

I saw you practicing this.

JACK

What?

MARLA

-- Telling me off. Is it going as well as you thought it would?

JACK

I'll expose you!

MARLA

Go ahead.

MEDIATOR

Let yourself cry.

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

I've put in some serious time on these groups -- I've been coming for a

year.

MARLA

Must've been tough to pull off.

PG 17

JACK

Anyone who might've noticed me in that time has either died or

recovered and never come back.

MARLA

Why do you do it?

JACK

Why do you?

No answer. The Leader passes right by Jack and Marla.

LEADER

Open up. share with each other.

JACK

... If people think you're dying, they really listen, instead of just

waiting for their turn to speak. Everything else about credit card

debts and sad radio songs and thinning hair goes out the window.

MARLA

It started with a lump. I went to a breast cancer support group. The

lump turned out benign. But I still needed my Monday fix. So, I went

to lymphoma, just to check it out. Dying people are so *alive*.

JACK

It becomes an addiction.

MARLA

Yeah ...

Jack almost smiles, then turns sullen. He pulls back from her.

LEADER

Now, the closing prayer.

JACK

Look, I can't go to a group with a faker present.

Marla's mood hardens.

MARLA

Well, I can't either.

LEADER

Oh, bless us and hold us ...

PG 18

JACK

We'll split up the week.

Marla starts out of the room. Jack follows her.

LEADER

... help us and help us.

EXT. CHURCH - NIGHT - CONTINUOUS

Marla gets to the sidewalk, moving quickly along.

JACK

You can have lymphoma, tuberculosis and --

MARLA

No, you take tuberculosis. My smoking doesn't go over well.

JACK

I think testicular cancer should be no contest.

MARLA

You have your balls, don't you? Technically, *I* have more of a right

to be there than you.

JACK

You're kidding.

MARLA

I don't know -- am I?

Jack follows Marla into

INT. LAUNDROMAT - CONTINUOUS

As she walks with authority up to an unwatched DRYER. She takes out

all the clothes, sets them on a table and sorts through them, picking

out jeans, pants and shirts.

MARLA

I'll take the parasites.

JACK

You can't have *both* parasites. You take blood parasites and --

MARLA

I want brain parasites.

She opens another dryer and does the same thing again.

PG 19

JACK

Okay. I'll take blood parasites and I'll take organic brain dementia

and --

MARLA

I want that.

JACK

You can't have the whole brain!

MARLA

So far, you have four and I have two!

JACK

Well, then, take blood parasites. Now, we each have three.

Marla gathers up all the chosen garments and heads back for the door.

She whooshes 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. She defiantly stomps in front of the cars, which

screech to a halt and blare their horns. Jack dashes across. Marla

heads into a THRIFT STORE. Jack follows.

INT. THRIFT STORE - CONTINUOUS

Marla drops all the clothes on a back counter. An old CLERK sifts

through the clothes, marks on a pad.

JACK

What are you doing? You're selling those clothes?

Marla steps down hard on Jack's foot. He jerks, wincing in pain.

MARLA (for the Clerk to hear)

Yes, I'm selling some clothes.

The Clerk starts to ring up the various amounts he's assessed.

PG 20

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 Marla and Jack a strange look as he hands over money to

Marla.

MARLA

That's your favorite, too? Tried to slip it by me, huh?

JACK

We'll split it. You get it the first and third Sunday of the month.

MARLA

Deal.

They shake hands. Jack starts to withdraw his; Marla holds it.

MARLA

I guess this is goodbye.

JACK

Let's not make a big deal out of this.

She walks toward the door. Jack watches her go.

MARLA (not looking back)

How's this for not making a big deal?

EXT. SIDEWALK - CONTINUOUS

Jack dashes out and catches up to her.

JACK

Uh, Marla. Should we exchange phone numbers?

MARLA

Should we?

JACK

In case we want to switch nights.

PG 21

MARLA

Uh-hunh. Sure.

He takes out a business card and a pen. He writes his home number on

the back and hands it to her. She takes his pen, grabs his hand and

writes her number on his palm. She gives him a quick grin, slaps the

pen back into his palm, then saunters out into the middle of the

street, causing more screeching of tires and honking. She turns back,

holding up the card.

MARLA

It doesn't have your name on it. Who are you? Cornelius? Any of the

stupid names you give at group?

Jack starts to yell, but the traffic noise is too loud. Marla just

shakes her head at him, turns, and keeps moving away. A bus moves into

view and stops, obscuring her.

JACK (V.O.)

Marla's philosophy of life, I later found out, was that she could die

at any moment. The tragedy of her life was that she didn't.

INT. AIRPLANE CABIN - DAY

As the plane touches down for landing and the cabin BUMPS, Jack's eyes

pop 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 end of a car is visible sticking up by the side of the road.

Jack stands near the car, marking on a document. The SUN SETS behind

him.

INT. AIRPORT - NIGHT

Jack walks up to a gate counter. An ATTENDANT smiles at him.

ATTENDANT

Check-in for that flight doesn't begin for another two hours, Sir.

PG 22

Jack looks at his watch, steps away and looks at an overhanging clock.

His eyes are bleary as he reads it, adjusts his watch.

JACK (V.O.)

Pacific, Mountain, Central. You lose an hour, you 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, moving slowly

with the flow of the belt. His tired eyes watch people on the opposite

conveyor belt, moving past him.

JACK (V.O.)

If you wake up at a different time and a different place, can you be a

different person?

Jack's eyes catch sight of TYLER -- who we recognize from the opening

sequence -- on the opposite conveyor belt. They pass 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 fold-out tray.

An ATTENDANT'S HANDS set coffee down with a small packet of sugar and a

small container of cream.

JACK (V.O.)

The charm of traveling is: everywhere I go -- tiny life.

Single-serving sugar, single-serving cream.

CUT TO: The hands place a plastic dinner tray down. Jack opens the

various containers.

JACK (V.O.)

Single-serving butter, single-serving salt. Single-serving cordon

blue.

PG 23

INT. HOTEL ROOM - BATHROOM - NIGHT

Jack brushes his teeth.

JACK (V.O.)

Single-use toothbrush. Single-serving mouthwash, single serving soap.

Jack picks up an individual, wrapped Q-TIP, looks at it. He moves out

of the bathroom into

MAIN AREA

And sits on the bed. He turns on the television. It's tuned to the

"Sheraton Channel" and shows WAITERS serving people in a large BANQUET

ROOM. Jack stops brushing his teeth, feels something near him on the

bed, finds it, lifts it. It's a small MINT.

INT. AIRPLANE CABIN - IN FLIGHT - NIGHT

Jack sits next to a frumpy WOMAN and they chat. Jack turns to look at

his food and takes a bite. He turns back and it's

-- a BALD MAN sitting next to him, talking. He takes another bite,

turns back and it's

-- a BUSINESSMAN sitting next to him. He takes another bite, turns

back, and it's

-- a BUSINESS WOMAN sitting 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, then we never

see each other again.

INT. AIRPLANE CABIN - LANDING

Jack's eyes snap open.

JACK (V.O.)

You wake up at Logan.

EXT. CONCRETE LOT - DAY

Surrounded by cinderblock walls. Two TECHNICIANS in uniform lead Jack

to a WAREHOUSE door. They open it, revealing a BURNT-OUT SHELL of a

WRECKED AUTOMOBILE. They move into the

PG 24

INT. WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS

And Jack sets down his briefcase, opens it, and starts to make notes on

a FORM.

JACK (V.O.)

I'm a recall coordinator. My job was to apply the formula. It's

simple arithmetic.

TECHNICIAN #1

Here's where the baby went through the window. Three points.

JACK (V.O.)

It's a story problem. A new car built by my company leaves Boston

traveling at 60 miles per hour. The rear differential locks up.

TECHNICIAN #2

The teenager's braces locked around the backseat ashtray. Kind makes 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 obese. See how the fat burned into the

driver's seat, mixed with the dye of his shirt? Kind like modern art.

JACK (V.O.)

You take the number of vehicles in the field (A) and multiply it by the

probable rate of failure (B), multiply the result by the average

out-of-court settlement (C). A times B times C equals X. If X is less

than the cost of a recall, we don't do one.

INT. AIRPLANE CABIN - TAKING OFF - NIGHT

Next to Jack, a chubby, middle-aged LADY gawks at him, appalled.

LADY

... Which ... car company do you work for?

PG 25

JACK

A major one.

LADY

Oh.

Jack turns his attention to the window as the PLANE ASCENDS. The

lady's VOICE FADES. Jack sees a PELICAN get SUCKED into the TURBINE.

His face remains bland during the following:

The plane BUCKLES -- the cabin wobbles loosely. People begin to panic.

Oxygen masks fall.

JACK (V.O.)

Life insurance pays off triple if you die on a business trip.

A forceful IMPACT with the ground and people -- except for Jack --

LURCH FORWARD, some jerking against their seatbelts, magazines and

other objects fly forward.

JACK (V.O.)

No more expense accounts, receipt required for over twenty-five

dollars.

A BALL OF FIRE swoops forward from the rear of the cabin and

INCINERATES EVERYTHING AND EVERYBODY -- except Jack, who remains in his

same position in his seat, with the bland expression.

JACK (V.O.)

No more haircuts. Nothing matters, not even bad breath.

DING! -- the seatbelt light goes OUT.

*EVERYTHING IS NORMAL*.

JACK (V.O.)

Always the same fantasy. But -- no such luck.

Jack's eyes are closed. He seems asleep. From next to him, a VOICE

we've heard before.

VOICE

There are three ways to make napalm. One, mix equal parts of gasoline

and frozen orange juice.

PG 26

Jack's eyes snap open and he turns to see *Tyler*, who is staring out

the window. Without turning to Jack, he continues:

TYLER

Two, mix equal parts of gasoline and diet cola. Three, dissolve

crumbled cat litter in gasoline until the mixture is thick.

Jack's smile fades. Tyler turns to him and grins. He reaches down

under the seat in front of him and pulls up a briefcase. Jack looks at

it with trepidation.

JACK (V.O.)

This is how I met --

Tyler offers his hand, Jack takes it and Tyler squeezes firmly and

shakes hands.

TYLER

Tyler Durden. You know why they have oxygen masks on planes?

JACK

Supply oxygen?

TYLER

That's a sharp answer. The oxygen gets you high. You're taking in

giant, panicked breaths and, suddenly, you become euphoric and docile,

and you accept your fate.

Tyler grabs a safety instruction card from the seat pocket and shows

Jack the passive faces on the drawn figures. Tyler imitates the face.

Jack laughs; he is completely beguiled.

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 shit about it?

Jack laughs. He points to his own briefcase, under the seat in front

of him.

PG 27

JACK

We have the same briefcase.

Tyler pops the latches on his briefcase. A beat, while Jack's

expression turns nervous again about what's inside. Tyler swings the

lid up, revealing a full bounty of quaintly-wrapped bars of soap.

TYLER

I make and sell soap.

He gives Jack one. Jack takes it, looks it over.

TYLER

If you add nitric acid to the soap-making process, you get

nitroglycerin. With enough soap, you could blow up the world.

Jack now looks at the bar of soap nervously. He looks at Tyler, slowly

smiles and shakes his head.

Tyler takes out a blank BOARDING PASS. He takes out a small stencil,

scrapes a pencil over it, creating a seat number which looks printed.

Then, he takes out a stamp and ink pad. He stamps the pass.

JACK

Uh ... why are you going to Wilmington?

TYLER

I live there.

JACK

Me, too.

Tyler shuts his briefcase and stands.

TYLER

Excuse me.

Jack stands, allowing Tyler to pass into the aisle.

JACK

So, uh ... we should hook up sometime.

Jack hands Tyler a business card. Tyler snatches it, writes down a

number, hands it back to Jack.

JACK

Tyler, you're by far the most interesting "single-serving" friend I've

ever met.

PG 28

A beat as Tyler stares at him, deadpan. Jack, enjoying his own chance

to be witty, leans a bit closer to Tyler.

JACK

You see, when you travel, everything is --

TYLER

I grasp the concept. You're very clever.

JACK

Thank you.

TYLER

How's that working out for you? -- Being clever.

JACK (thrown off)

Well, uh ... uh ... great.

TYLER

Keep it up, then. Keep it right up.

Jack sits and watches Tyler walk up to the curtain dividing First

Class. Tyler show the bogus boarding pass to an ATTENDANT, who leads

him through the curtain.

INT. BAGGAGE CLAIM AREA - WILMINGTON - NIGHT

Utterly empty of baggage, and, except for Jack and a SECURITY TASK

FORCE MAN, utterly empty of people; quiet. 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

Throwers?

SECURITY TFM

Baggage handlers. But when a suitcase vibrates, the throwers have to

call the police.

JACK

My suitcase was *vibrating*?

PG 29

SECURITY TFM

Nine times out of ten, it's an electric razor. One out of ten, it's a

dildo. Sometimes it's even a *man*. It's airline policy not to imply

ownership in the event of a dildo. We gotta use the indefinite

article: "*A* dildo". Never "*Your* dildo".

JACK (V.O.)

I had everything in that bag. Six white shirts, two black trousers,

six pair underwear, alarm clock, contact lens stuff, and ... cordless

electric razor.

SECURITY TFM (into phone)

Yeah? Oh, fuck, now a recording.

The Security TFM punches a few code numbers into the phone, waits. CUT

TO:

EXT. EMPTY RUNWAY - NIGHT

A solitary SUITCASE sits on the concrete.

KABOM! The suitcase explodes. CUT TO:

INT. BAGGAGE CLAIM AREA - RESUMING

The Security TFM still on hold, entertains Jack.

SECURITY TFM (to Jack)

You know the industry slang for "flight attendant"? "Air Mattress".

(into phone)

Yeah? Really?

The Security TFM, turns to Jack, shakes his head, hangs up the phone;

shrugs.

EXT. AIRPORT DRIVE - MOMENTS LATER

Jack waits by the curb as a TAXI approaches.

JACK (V.O.)

Things could be worse. A spider could lay eggs under the skin in your

face and the larva could tunnel around and baby spiders could burst

from your nostrils.

PG 30

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 taxi approaches the intersection.

JACK (V.O.)

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 blast ...

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 on the

fifteenth floor. FIRETRUCKS, POLICECARS and a MOB are all crowded

around the lobby area.

JACK (V.O.)

-- Or when a volcanic blast of burning gas and debris that used to be

your furniture and personal effects blows out your floor-to-ceiling

window and sails down flaming to leave just your condo -- only yours --

a gutted, charred concrete hole in the cliffside of the building.

EXT. STREET IN FRONT OF BUILDING

Jack, gaping at the sight above him, absently gives the Cabbie money.

The taxi pulls away. Jack stands frozen.

JACK (V.O.)

These things happen.

Jack starts toward the building. He enters the fray of people, pushes

through to the lobby. The DOORMAN sees him, gives a sad smile, shakes

his head. Jack starts for the elevator.

DOORMAN

There's nothing up there.

Jack presses the button; waits. The Doorman moves next to him.

PG 31

DOORMAN

You can't go into the unit. Police orders. They're investigating for

arson.

The elevator doors open. Jack hesitates. The doors close.

DOORMAN

Do you have someone you can call?

Jack heads back for 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 glass. He gets to a payphone. The

Doorman stays right with him, watching him. CUT TO:

CLOSE SHOT - JACK'S STOVE

Hissing.

JACK (V.O.)

Later, the police told me someone could've turned the pilot light off,

turned a burner on.

EXT. PAYPHONE - RESUMING

Jack picks up the receiver, stares at the numbers on the phone.

DOORMAN

A lot of young people try to impress the world and buy too many things.

CLOSE SHOT - JACK'S ENTIRE CONDO - KITCHEN AND LIVING ROOM

Sound of the HISS.

JACK (V.O.)

The gas then could have slowly filled the condo from floor to ceiling

in every room. Seventeen-hundred square feet with high ceilings for

days and days.

PG 32

EXT. PAYPHONE - RESUMING

Jack's fingers move over the numbers lightly, as he thinks.

DOORMAN

A lot of young people don't know what they really want.

INSERT - CLOSE ON BASE OF JACK'S REFRIGERATOR

JACK (V.O.)

Then, the refrigerator's compressor clicked on.

Click. KABLAM! SCREEN GOES WHITE.

EXT. PAYPHONE - RESUMING

Jack digs into his pocket, pulls out his business card, turns it over

-- sees the number Tyler wrote. He dials it. Its rings ... and rings.

He waits.

JACK (V.O.)

Tyler Durden. Rescue me.

DOORMAN

Young people think they want the whole world.

JACK (V.O.)

Deliver me from Swedish furniture. Deliver me from clever art.

DOORMAN

If you don't know what you want, you end up with a lot you don't.

JACK (V.O.)

May I never be content. May I never be complete. May I never be

perfect. Deliver me.

Jack sighs and hands up the phone. He starts to push past the Doorman

when the phone RINGS. Jack grabs it.

JACK

Hello?

TYLER'S VOICE

Who's this?

JACK

Tyler?

PG 33

EXT. LOU'S TAVERN - NIGHT

A small building, sitting squarely in the middle of a large concrete

parking lot. A few street lamps illuminate the lot. a freeway runs

nearby.

INT. LOU'S TAVERN - SAME

Jack and Tyler sit at a table in the very back of the room. A

half-empty pitcher of beer shows dried foam scum from the previous

refill.

Five DRUNKEN GUYS at a table at the opposite side of the bar keep

glancing over and chuckling in a potentially hostile manner.

TYLER

You buy furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa you'll

ever need in your life; no matter what else goes wrong, you've got the

sofa issue handled. Then the right set of dishes. Then the right bed.

The drapes. The rug. This is how you're good to yourself. This is

how you fill up your life.

JACK

I ... guess so.

TYLER

And now your condo blows up and you have nothing.

JACK

I ... guess so.

TYLER

And now you find yourself, sitting here, feeling like it's the best

thing that ever happened to you.

JACK

... yeah.

TYLER

I don't know you, so maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's a terrible fucking

tragedy.

JACK

... no.

PG 34

TYLER

I mean, you lost a lot of nice, perfect, neat little shit.

JACK

Fuck it all.

TYLER

Wow. That's pretty strong.

JACK

... yeah.

TYLER

Do you have family you can call?

JACK

My mother would just go into hysterics. My Dad ... Don't know where

he is. Only knew him for six years. Then, he ran off to a new city

and married another woman and had more kids. Every six years -- new

city, new family. He was setting up franchises.

Tyler smiles, snorts, shakes his head.

TYLER