FIGHT CLUB

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.