by

Jim Uhls

based on a novel by

Chuck Palahnuik

 2/16/98

 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 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 Mass 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.

PULL BACK from Jack's face. It's 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 bitch tits.

INT. CHURCH MEETING ROOM - NIGHT

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 bitch 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.

INT. JACK'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jack lies in bed, staring at the ceiling.

JACK (V.O.)

For six months. I could not sleep.

INT. COPY ROOM - DAY

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.

INT. JACK'S OFFICE - SAME

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.

INT. BATHROOM - JACK'S CONDO - NIGHT

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.

MOVE IN ON CATALOG -- ON PHOTO of COFFEETABLE SET...

JACK (V.O.)

If I saw something like clever coffee

table sin the shape of a yin and

yang, I had to have it.

PAN TO PHOTO of ARMCHAIR...

JACK (V.O.)

Like the Johanneshov armchair in the

Strinne green stripe pattern...

INT. LIVING ROOM/DINING 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 pornography. 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 glass 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 butter knife to eat it.

INT. DOCTOR'S OFFICE - DAY

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

(overlapping w/ above)

You need healthy, natural sleep.

Chew valerian root and get some more

exercise.

The Intern ushes Jack to the door. They step into the...

INT. HALLWAY

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.