FIGHT CLUB

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*.