Fight Club

JACK: Get your hands off him! Get off...! What the hell do you think you're doing... ? Evidence?! This is a man... ! You killed him!

ANGEL FACE: He was killed in action.

JACK: No! Look at you! You're... you're running around in ski masks, exploding things...

ANGEL FACE: He was killed serving Project Mayhem.

JACK: What... ?

ANGEL FACE: The garden. Take him there. Move, people. Let's do this!

ANGEL FACE: That wouldn't interest you.

JACK: Where's Tyler?

ANGEL FACE: The first rule of Project --

JACK: Right, right.

JACK: You are a moron.

BANDAGED PROPRIETOR: I'm afraid I have to insist you leave.

JACK: I need to know where Tyler is. Can't you help me?

BANDAGED PROPRIETOR: Sir, you're disturbing the other patrons with your laudish behavior.

JACK: There's no one else here.

BANDAGED PROPRIETOR: I'm sorry, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about.

JACK: Look at my face. I'm a member. I just need to know if you've seen Tyler Durden.

BANDAGED PROPRIETOR: I'm not disclosed to bespeak any such information to you, nor would I, even if I had said information you want, at this juncture be able.

BOB: That's a fucking great, man! Fucking great! Congratulations.

JACK: Yeah, both of us.

BOB: You know about the guy who invented it? I hear all kinds of things. Supposedly, he was born in a mental institution. They say he only sleeps one hour a night. You know about this guy? Tyler Durden?

BOB: No. I found something new.

JACK: Really, what's that?

BOB: The first rule is... you aren't supposed to talk about it...

JACK: Oh.

BOB: And the second rule about it is... you're not supposed to talk about it. And the third rule...

JACK: Bob, Bob... I'm a member.

BOB: You are?!

JACK: Look at my face.

BOB: Cornelius! How are you?

JACK: Bob. I'm okay. How are you?

BOB: Better than I've ever been in my life.

JACK: Really? Great. Still "Remaining Men Together?"

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

JACK: 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: 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.

JACK: Let's pretend. You're the Department of Transportation, and you discover that our company intentionally did nothing about leather seats cured in third world countries with chemicals we know cause birth defects? Brake linings that fail after a thousand miles. Fuel injectors that burn people alive.

BOSS: Just who the fuck do you think you are?! Get out! You're fired!

JACK: What about this? Keep me on payroll as an outside consultant. In exchange for my salary, I'll keep my mouth shut. I won't need to come to the office. I can do this job from home.

JACK: We need to talk.

BOSS: Okay. Where to begin? With your constant absenteeism? With your unpresentable appearance? You're up for review...

JACK: I Am Jack's Complete Lack of Surprise.

JACK: I must've left the original in the copy machine.

BOSS: "The second rule of fight club... Is this yours?

JACK: Hmm?

BOSS: You don't get paid to abuse the copy machine.

JACK: "Abuse" the copy machine. There's an image.

BOSS: Pretend you're me. You find this. What would you do?

BOSS: Is that your blood?

JACK: Some of it, yes.

JACK: After fight club, everything else in your life gets the volume turned down. You can deal with anything.

BOSS: Have you finished those reports?

JACK: Yes.

BOSS: I'm going to need you out-of-town a little more this week. We've got some "red-flags" to cover.

JACK: It must've been Tuesday. he was wearing his "cornflower-blue" tie.

JACK: 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: 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: No. No, sir. I loved that condo. I loved every stick of furniture. The lamps, the chairs, the rugs, were me. The dishes were me. The plants were...

JACK: I'd like to thank the academy...

DETECTIVE STERN: Well, if any ideas come to you, give me a call. In the meantime, don't leave town. I may need to bring you in for questioning.

DETECTIVE STERN: The dynamite...

JACK: Dynamite?

DETECTIVE STERN: Yes. It left a residue of ammonium oxalate and potassium perchloride. Do you know what that means?

JACK: What does that mean?

DETECTIVE STERN: It means it was homemade.

JACK: This is... really a shock...

DETECTIVE STERN: Whoever set this homemade dynamite could've blown out the pilot light days before the explosion. The gas, it seems, was just a detonator.

JACK: Who do you think could've done this?

DETECTIVE STERN: I'll ask the questions, son.

DETECTIVE STERN: This is Detective Stern with the arson unit. We have some new information about the "incident" at your condo.

JACK: Yes?

DETECTIVE STERN: I don't know if you're aware... your front door -- it seems someone sprayed freon into the lock, then tapped it with a chisel to shatter the cylinder.

JACK: No, I wasn't aware...

JACK: I am Jack's Cold Sweat.

DETECTIVE STERN: Does this sound strange to you?

JACK: Yes, sire, strange. Very strange.

JACK: I'm in pain.

INTERN: You want to see pain? Swing by First Methodist Tuesday nights. See the guys with testicular cancer. That's pain.

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: Red-and-blue Tuinal, lipstick-red Seconals.

INTERN: You need healthy, natural sleep. Chew valerian root and get some more exercise.

MARLA: Who did this to you?

JACK: I did, I think. But, I'm okay... I'm fine...

MARLA: My God, you're shot...

JACK: Yes.

MARLA: What happened... ?

JACK: Don't ask.

MARLA: I'm not paying this back. I consider it "asshole tax."

JACK: Yes, fine. Just, get on. Stay away a couple of weeks, at least.

MARLA: Why are you doing this?

JACK: I can't let myself see where you're going. Go wherever it takes you, remember... keep away from major cities...

MARLA: Tyler...

JACK: I'm begging you. Get on the bus. Get on the bus.

MARLA: Leave me alone! I don't ever want to see you again!

JACK: Okay, if that's what it takes, you'll never have to see me again. Here... here...

MARLA: Let go of me!

JACK: Do this for me, Marla. Do this for me, if you never do anything else...

MARLA: There's a part of you I really like, but I can't do this anymore. I just can't. This is killing me...

JACK: I'm sorry, but I...

MARLA: What?! You're sorry? I don't believe that for a minute.

JACK: I'm trying to tell you -- and this is where you have to trust me -- but, I think your life might be in real danger.

MARLA: What?

JACK: You have to get out of here. Leave as soon as possible. Go to any rural town, away from any major city...

MARLA: You are an insane person.

JACK: Marla...

MARLA: No, no, shut up! I've had enough. I tried, Tyler... I have tried...

MARLA: You got about thirty seconds.

JACK: I know that I've been... unwell. I know it's been like there's two sides to me.

MARLA: Two sides? You're Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Jackass.

JACK: I deserve that. Anyway, I've... I've only just realized

MARLA: What?

JACK: I mean, the depth and breadth of our relationship has only recently been illuminated for me. I know this... I know us hasn't been such a great thing for you...

MARLA: Whatever. I'll take my food to go...

JACK: Because... I'm Tyler Durden.

MARLA: Then, I'll have the clam chowder... fried chicken and a baked potato with everything and a chocolate chiffon pie.

MARLA: I don't want to hear anything you've got to say.

JACK: Give me a minute, Marla, alright... just sixty seconds.

MARLA: Sixty seconds, then I'm out of here.

JACK: Absolutely, you have every right. I need you to do me a favor.

MARLA: I've done you enough favors.

JACK: Marla...

MARLA: Your whacked-out, bald freaks hit me with a fucking broom. I thought they were going to break my arm.

JACK: I'm sorry, I...

MARLA: The were burning their fingertips with lye. The stink was unbelievable.

JACK: Marla... I need to talk to you. It's going to take a tremendous act of faith on your part for you to hear me out.

MARLA: Here comes an avalanche of bullshit.

MARLA: Yeah?

JACK: Marla, it's me. Have we... have we ever had sex?

MARLA: What kind of stupid question is that?!

JACK: Because the answer's "yes" or because the answer's "no?"

MARLA: Is this a trick?

JACK: Will you just answer me, for Christsake?!

MARLA: You mean, you want to know if I think we were just having sex or making love?

JACK: We did make love?

MARLA: Is that what you're calling it?

JACK: Answer the question!

MARLA: You fuck me, then snub me. You love me, you hate me. You show me your sensitive side, then you turn into a total asshole! Is that a pretty accurate description of our relationship, Tyler?

JACK: We've just lost cabin pressure.

JACK: What did you say... ?

MARLA: What is wrong with you?

JACK: Say my name.

MARLA: What... ?

JACK: Say my name! What's my name!?

MARLA: Tyler Durden! Tyler Durden, you fucking freak. What's going on? I'm coming over there...

JACK: Marla, no, wait...

JACK: The Paper Street Soap Company.

MARLA: Can I come in?

JACK: He's not here.

MARLA: What?

JACK: He's not here! Tyler's not here anymore! He's gone away!

MARLA: What is this? Who did this?

JACK: ... A person.

MARLA: Guy or girl?

JACK: Why would you ask if it's a guy or a girl?!

MARLA: Why would you get bent if I asked?

JACK: Let go of me... Leave me alone.

MARLA: You're afraid to say.

JACK: No.

MARLA: That day you came over to my place to play doctor... what was going on there?

JACK: You hear that?

MARLA: Hear what?

JACK: That... sawing and hammering.

MARLA: Have we been talking too long? Must we change the subject?

JACK: I don't understand. Why does a weak person have to go out and find a strong person... to hang onto?

MARLA: What do you get out of it?

JACK: You... don't have to... leave.

MARLA: Whatever.

JACK: Really... I mean it. Have you been going to your groups?

MARLA: Chloe's dead.

JACK: When?

MARLA: Do you care?

JACK: I don't know.

MARLA: It was the smart move on her part.

JACK: I think everything's okay here.

MARLA: I could check your prostate.

JACK: Uh ... nah.

MARLA: Well... thanks, anyway.

MARLA: Well, that's a relief. Thank you.

JACK: No... no problem.

MARLA: I wish I could return the favor.

MARLA: Make sure.

JACK: Okay. Okay, I'm sure.

MARLA: You feel nothing?

JACK: Nothing.

JACK: Where? Here?

MARLA: Here.

JACK: There?

MARLA: Here.

JACK: Here.

MARLA: Feel anything?

JACK: No.

JACK: This is a sweet side of you. Picking these up for ... "Mrs. Haniver" and... "Mrs. Raines." Where are they?

MARLA: Tragically, they're dead. I'm alive and I'm in poverty. You want any?

JACK: No, thanks.

MARLA: Good.

JACK: What are you talking about?

MARLA: Would you do something for me? I need you to check and see if there's a lump in my breast. I can't afford to throw money away on a doctor.

JACK: I don't know ...

MARLA: Please.

JACK: She didn't call Tyler. I'm neutral in her book.

MARLA: You're such a nutcase, I can't even begin to keep up.

JACK: Goodbye.

JACK: It's time for you to leave.

MARLA: Don't worry, I'm leaving.

MARLA: Like sex crime victims, underwear inside-out, bound with electrical tape.

JACK: It suits you.

JACK: Except for their humping, Tyler and Marla were never in the same room.

MARLA: I got this dress at a thrift store for one dollar.

JACK: Worth every penny.

JACK: What are you doing here?

MARLA: What... ?

JACK: What the hell are you doing here?

JACK: Picture yourself watching Marla Singer throw herself around her crummy apartment.

MARLA: This isn't a for-real suicide thing. This is probably one of those cry-for- help things.

JACK: This could go on for hours.

JACK: So you're staying in tonight?

MARLA: Do you want to wait to hear me describe death?

JACK: How did you find me?

MARLA: The forwarding number. I haven't seen you at any support groups.

JACK: That's the idea -- we split them.

MARLA: You haven't been going to yours.

JACK: I found a new one.

MARLA: Really?

JACK: It's for men.

MARLA: Like testicular cancer?

JACK: Look, this is a bad time...

MARLA: I've been going to debtor's anonymous. You want to see some truly fucked up people?

JACK: I'm just on my way out...

MARLA: Me too. I got a stomach full of Xanax. I took what was left of a bottle. Might've been too much.

MARLA: Where have you been the last few weeks?

JACK: Marla?

JACK: Um... Marla, should we maybe exchange numbers?

MARLA: Should we?

JACK: In case we want to switch nights.

MARLA: I suppose.

MARLA: Looks like this is goodbye.

JACK: Let's not make a big thing out of it.

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.

MARLA: So, we each have three -- that's six. What about the seventh day? I want ascending bowel cancer.

JACK: The girl had done her homework.

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.

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: 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... ?

JACK: It becomes an addiction.

MARLA: Really?

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.

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.

MARLA: And I saw you practicing this...

JACK: Practicing what?

MARLA: Telling me off. Is it going as well as you hoped... ? "... Mr. Taylor."

JACK: I'll expose you.

MARLA: Go ahead. I'll expose you.

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.

JACK: ... and you come home to this.

TYLER'S VOICE: You fucking slut!!

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...

WOUNDED BARTENDER: You're the one who did this to me. You're Mr. Durden, sir. Tyler Durden.

JACK: Please return your seatbacks to their full upright and locked position.

WOUNDED BARTENDER: How have you been?

JACK: ... You know me?

WOUNDED BARTENDER: Is this a test, sir?

JACK: Yes... it's a test.

WOUNDED BARTENDER: You were in here last Thursday night.

JACK: What?

WOUNDED BARTENDER: You were standing right where you are now, asking how good our security is. It's tight as a drum.

JACK: Who do you think I am?

WOUNDED BARTENDER: Is this part of the test?

JACK: I had everything in that bag. My C.K. shirts... my D.K.N.Y. shoes...

SECURITY TFM: Yeah, uh huh... yeah? Oh...

SECURITY TFM: 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 ... ...it's a dildo. It's airline policy not to imply ownership in the event of a dildo. We use the indefinite aricle: "A dildo." Never "Your dildo."

LEADER: Tell the other person how you feel.

JACK: You're a tourist. I saw you at melanoma, tuberculosis and testicular cancer.

JACK: 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.

JACK: -- 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.

LEADER: Tonight, we're going to open the green door -- the heart chakra...

JACK: 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: Do something for me.

TYLER: What?

JACK: Appreciate something.

TYLER: What?

JACK: Look at me...

TYLER: What?

JACK: My eyes are open.

TYLER: Why are you going with this, Ikea- boy?

JACK: It's the only way to get rid of you...

TYLER: What are you doing?

JACK: What have you left for me?

TYLER: Why do you want to do that? Why do you want to put that gun in your mouth?

JACK: Not my mouth. Our mouth.

TYLER: From now on, we'll share Marla. We've been spending too much time apart...

JACK: ... no, no, no...

TYLER: No more running off without you. From here on out, we do it together.

JACK: Why are you doing this?!

TYLER: I'm doing this for us.

JACK: Please understand... I've gotten all I can from this, Tyler.

TYLER: If I leave, you will be right back where I found you...

JACK: I swear on my life, I won't...

TYLER: You will. You know you will.

JACK: Why... why... why... ?

TYLER: Why what?

JACK: Why can't I get rid of you? Why can't I just wish you away?

TYLER: You need me.

JACK: No, no, I don't. I thank you, I really do. Thank you, but I don't need you anymore.

TYLER: Look, I can be selfish, I know that. I'm not blind to my own failings...

JACK: Noooo, please...

JACK: How'd you do that?! You're a fucking figment of my imagination... you're psychogenic fugue state...

TYLER: Fuck that, maybe you're my hallucination.

JACK: NO...

TYLER: Proceed with remote detonation.

TYLER: Damn it! God-damn it...

JACK: Not exactly according to plan.

TYLER: Do we have to do everything ourselves?!

TYLER: What the fuck -- ?

JACK: Paraffin.

TYLER: What?

JACK: Paraffin. Your merry band mixed the nitro with paraffin. I saw it floating in the bomb.

JACK: Can't you call it off... ?

TYLER: It's out of our hands. This is it.

JACK: Please...

TYLER: Fifteen seconds now. Can you see alright? 10... 9... 8....

TYLER: One minute.

JACK: I think this is about where we came in.

TYLER: 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...

TYLER: Ask me nicely.

JACK: Defuse the bomb, please.

TYLER: Defuse the bomb?

JACK: Yes.

JACK: Tyler...

TYLER: What?

JACK: Defuse the bomb.

TYLER: Bob was a grown man. In any great struggle, there will be casualties. Wouldn't that be implicit in the name? Project "Mayhem."

JACK: Fuck your struggle. I want out.

TYLER: You want out?

JACK: I quit.

TYLER: Not an option, for the most obvious of reasons. You need to get with the program. Seven minutes. Let's get out of here.

TYLER: I've got everything. The bombs. The army. I've got Marla.

JACK: Bob is dead, Tyler. The police blew a hole in his head. Was that part of your plan?

JACK: Yes...

TYLER: Don't pull the green wire. Pull anything but the green wire.

JACK: Fuck you.

TYLER: I'm serious. That's the wrong one.

JACK: I'm pulling the green wire.

TYLER: Green? Did you say green?

JACK: If I'm wrong, we're both dead..

TYLER: This is not about martyrdom.

TYLER: I wouldn't be doing that. Unless you know which wires, in what order...

JACK: If you know, I know.

TYLER: What are you doing running through the streets in your underpants? We both use that body.

JACK: Since when is Project Mayhem about murder?

TYLER: The buildings were evacuated thirty minutes ago. Everything's proceeding exactly as planned.

JACK: You don't know that. There could still be people inside.

TYLER: You could be standing under 37 stories of steel and concrete with a 150 gallons of nitroglycerin strapped to the support... oh, maybe it couldn't be...

JACK: You... you can't be serious about this.

TYLER: What a ridiculous thing to say.

JACK: I can't let you...

TYLER: ...go through with this? What are you going to do?

JACK: I'm going to...

TYLER: ...stop me?

JACK: I'm not going...

TYLER: ...to let this happen!

JACK: Stop finishing...

TYLER: ...your sentences! They're our sentences. Get your mind around that.

JACK: No! This isn't true. We... we were around other people, together, both of us...

TYLER: You never talked to me in front of anyone else.

JACK: Wrong, wrong -- what about the car crash... the two guys in the backseat?

TYLER: What about them? They're lunatics.

JACK: You took me to the house.

TYLER: The house is rented in your name.

JACK: You have jobs.

TYLER: Night jobs -- while you were sleeping.

JACK: What about Marla?

TYLER: What about Marla?

JACK: She's... you... you're fucking her.

TYLER: Um, well... technically, no.

TYLER: There! Happy? I asked for one thing from you... one simple promise. Now look what you've done!

JACK: This isn't possible...

TYLER: We're going to have to do something about Marla...

JACK: What... what are you saying?

TYLER: It's okay. We okay... a little codependent, sure, but...

JACK: Oh, yeah. I didn't really know my Dad...

TYLER: But, when you fall asleep, I do things without you...

JACK: He's not here! Tyler's not here anymore! He's gone away!

TYLER: You can see me and hear me, but no one else can...

JACK: The first rule of fight club is -- you don't talk about fight club.

TYLER: And, sometimes you control it...

TYLER: People think that you're me, because you and I happen to share the same body.

JACK: What... ?

TYLER: Is this really news to you?

JACK: What are you talking about... ?

TYLER: Sometimes I control it, and you imagine yourself watching me...

TYLER: Four in Milwaukee.

JACK: What's this all about, Tyler?

TYLER: And, we're definitely filling a void in the rural South.

JACK: Why do people think I'm you?

TYLER: You broke your promise. You talked to her about me.

JACK: Why do people think I'm Tyler Durden?

TYLER: Why did you do that?

JACK: Answer me, Tyler.

TYLER: Why do people think anything?

JACK: I don't know! Tell me!

JACK: "Too young?"

TYLER: If the applicant is young, we tell him he's too young. Old, too old. Fat, too fat.

JACK: "Applicant?"

TYLER: If the applicant waits at the door for three days without food, shelter or encouragement, then he can enter and begin training.

JACK: "Training?" Tyler...

TYLER: You're too young. Sorry.

JACK: Wait a minute...

JACK: This conversation...

TYLER: ... is over.

JACK: ... is over.

TYLER: What are you talking about?

JACK: Nothing.

TYLER: I want to hear the truth.

JACK: Fuck my life. Fuck fight club. Fuck you and fuck Marla. I'm sick of this. How's that?

TYLER: Why do you think I blew up your condo?

JACK: What?

TYLER: Hitting bottom isn't a weekend retreat! It's not a seminar! You have to forget everything you know, everything you think you know -- about life, about friendship, about you and me.

JACK: I don't know! Nothing!

TYLER: If you died right now, how would you feel about your life?

JACK: I would feel nothing about my life? Is that what you want to hear?!

JACK: What the hell ... ?!

TYLER: You choose your level of involvement. I won't make decisions for you.

JACK: I'm not asking you to.

TYLER: You're asking questions that don't have answers. You know just as much about Project Mayhem as anybody else.

JACK: I don't think that's true.

TYLER: This does not belong to us. We are not the leaders. We are not special.

JACK: What are you doing?!

TYLER: We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world. We are all part of the same compost heap...

JACK: Tyler...

TYLER: Is this a needlepoint club? Is it about you and me?

JACK: You know what I mean.

TYLER: What do you want? A statement of purpose... ?

JACK: Look...

TYLER: Should I E-mail you? Should I put this on your "action item list?"

JACK: I want to know --

TYLER: What do you want to know about Project Mayhem?

JACK: Why wasn't I told about "Project Mayhem?"

TYLER: What should I have told you?

JACK: Why wasn't I involved from the beginning? You and I started fight club together.

TYLER: Fight club was the beginning. Now it's out of the basements and there's a name for it -- Project Mayhem.

TYLER: Something on your mind?

JACK: No.

TYLER: Where did you go, Psycho-Boy?

JACK: I felt like destroying something beautiful.

JACK: Hey.

TYLER: Hey.

JACK: I feel sick.

TYLER: Imagine how he feels.

TYLER: I asked you what you studied.

JACK: Tell him!

JACK: Tyler...

TYLER: An expired community college student ID card. What did you used to study, Raymond K. Hessel?

JACK: What are we doing?

TYLER: Homework assignment.

JACK: What is it?

JACK: Local 8 just started in Penns Grove. And, Bob said he was at fight club in Newcastle last week.

TYLER: Newcastle? Did you start that one?

JACK: I thought you did.

JACK: There's fight club in Delaware City.

TYLER: I heard. Local 15, Monday nights.

JACK: Six months advance pay. Six months!

TYLER: Fucking sweet.

JACK: Okay, and... and...

JACK: What... ?

TYLER: Nothing. Do what you like.

TYLER: No thanks, I quit.

JACK: You quit?

TYLER: Yeah. Where you headed?

JACK: Work. Going to work.

JACK: ... Marla ... ?

TYLER: Fuck damnation. Fuck redemption. We are God's unwanted children, with no special place and no special attention, and so be it.

TYLER: Listen to me. You have to consider the possibility that God doesn't like you, he never wanted you. In all probability, He hates you. This is not the worst thing that can happen...

JACK: It isn't... ?

TYLER: We don't need him...

JACK: We don't... ?

TYLER: This is the greatest moment of your life and you're off somewhere, missing it.

JACK: No, I'm not...

TYLER: Shut up. Our fathers were our models for God. And, if our fathers bailed, what does that tell us about God?

JACK: I don't know...

JACK: I... I think I understand. I think I get it...

TYLER: No, what you're feeling is premature enlightenment.

TYLER: Stop it. This is your pain -- your burning hand. It's right here. Look at it.

JACK: I was going to my cave to find my power animal.

JACK: Tyler's kiss was a bonfire on the back of my hand.

TYLER: Look at your hand.

JACK: Guided meditation worked for cancer, it could work for this.

TYLER: As the fat renders, the tallow floats to the surface. Remember the crap they taught you in Boy Scouts.

JACK: Hard to imagine you in Boy Scouts.

TYLER: This clear layer in glycerin. We'll mix it back in when we make the soap.

JACK: What is this place?

TYLER: A liposuction clinic.

JACK: You get rid of her.

TYLER: Don't mention me.

JACK: Huh?

TYLER: "The liberator who destroyed my property has re-aligned my paradigm of perception."

JACK: Shhhhhh! I don't know what to make of this, sir, I really don't...

TYLER: You want to finish her off?

JACK: Uh... nah...

TYLER: If you ever say anything about me or about what happens here in this house, to her or anyone -- I will find out. And you'll never see me again. Promise me.

JACK: Okay.

TYLER: Promise you won't.

JACK: Yes, I promise.

TYLER: Promise?

JACK: I said I promise!

TYLER: That was three times you promised.

JACK: What?

TYLER: You've gotta understand something about me. I have a little rule, okay? Don't ever talk to her about me. Ever. I can't stand that kind of shit.

TYLER: She is a wild, twisted bitch. Stay away from that one.

JACK: Oh, and my pace is more librarians.

TYLER: Hey... don't knock librarians.

JACK: Marla doesn't need a lover. She needs a case worker.

TYLER: She needs an exorcist. This isn't love. This is sport-fucking.

JACK: She'd invaded my support groups, now she's invading my home.

TYLER: Listen... do me a favor... sit here a minute...

TYLER: You're okay with this?

JACK: I'm fine.

TYLER: You're sure?

JACK: Yeah, I'm sure.

TYLER: Good. This chick was up on the table with her legs in the stirrups before the doctor even walked in the room. The things that she said... I've never heard a woman talk like that...

TYLER: I mean, this girl... uh, you're not into her or anything... ?

JACK: No. Not at all.

TYLER: Unbelievable, huh?

JACK: He was obviously able to handle it.

JACK: Fight club became the reason to cut your hair short and trim your fingernails.

TYLER: Any historical figure.

JACK: Okay... Ghandi.

TYLER: Good answer.

JACK: You?

TYLER: Abe Lincoln. Big reach. Skinny guys fight till they're burger.

JACK: A guy came to fight club for the first time, his ass was a wad of cookie dough. After a few weeks, he was carved out of wood.

JACK: If you could fight any celebrity?

TYLER: Alive or dead?

JACK: Doesn't matter.

TYLER: Hemingway. You?

JACK: Shatner. William Shatner.

JACK: What are you reading?

TYLER: Soldier of Fortune. Business Week. New Republic.

JACK: Show-off.

JACK: "I am Joe's Lungs." It's written in first person. "Without me, Joe could not take in oxygen to feed his red blood cells." There's a whole series -- "I am Joe's Prostate."

TYLER: "I get cancer, and I kill Joe."

JACK: The previous occupant had been a bit of a shut-in.

TYLER: Hum.

JACK: What?

TYLER: Oh, a new riot control grenade... "...the successful combination of concussive, 3000 foot-candle flash- blasts and simultaneous high-velocity disbursement of...blah, blah, blah..."

JACK: Where's your car?

TYLER: What car?

JACK: I don't know how Tyler found the house, but he'd been there for half a year.

JACK: Oh, yeah. I didn't know my dad. Well, I knew him, till I was six. He went and married another woman, had more kids. Every six years or so he'd do it again -- new city, new family.

TYLER: He was setting up franchises. My father never went to college, so it was really important that I go.

JACK: I know that.

TYLER: After I graduated, I called him long distance and asked, "Now what?" He said, "Get a job." When I turned twenty-five, I called him and asked, "Now what?" He said, "I don't know. Get married."

JACK: Same here.

TYLER: A generation of men raised by women. I'm wondering if another woman is the answer we really need.

JACK: My boss, probably. Who would you fight?

TYLER: My dad. No question.

TYLER: If you could fight anyone... one on one, whoever you wanted, who would you fight?

JACK: Anyone?

TYLER: Anyone.

TYLER: How do you feel?

JACK: Strange.

TYLER: But a good strange.

JACK: Is it?

TYLER: We've crossed the threshold. You want to call it off?

JACK: Call what off?

TYLER: The fight.

JACK: What fight?

TYLER: This fight, pussy.

JACK: Shit. Sorry. That didn't count.

TYLER: Like hell. That counted.

TYLER: Why not you? I'm letting you go first. Do it.

JACK: This is crazy.

TYLER: Alright, go crazy. Let 'er rip.

JACK: Where do you want it? In the face?

TYLER: Surprise me.

JACK: I don't know about this.

TYLER: I don't know, either. I want to find out. I've never been hit, have you?

JACK: No. That's a good thing, isn't it?

TYLER: I don't want to die without any scars. How much can you really know about yourself if you've never been in a fight? Come on... you're the only person I've ever asked.

JACK: Me?

TYLER: ... Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah.

JACK: He farted on meringue; he sneezed on braised endive; and, with creme of mushroom soup, well...

TYLER: Go ahead. Say it.

JACK: You get the idea.

JACK: He was the guerrilla terrorist of the food service industry.

TYLER: Don't watch. I can't if you watch.

TYLER: One-forty-eighth of a second. That's how long it's up there.

JACK: No one really knows that they've seen it. But they did.

TYLER: A nice, big cock.

JACK: Only a hummingbird could have caught Tyler at work.

TYLER: They're called "cigarette burns."

JACK: It's called a "changeover." The movie goes on, and nobody in the audience has any idea.

TYLER: Why would anyone want this shitty job?

JACK: It affords him other interesting opportunities.

TYLER: -- Like splicing single frames from adult movies into family films.

JACK: In reel three, right after the courageous dog and the snooty cag -- who have celebrity voices -- eat out of a garbage can, there's the flash of Tyler's contribution...

JACK: Insurance'll cover it.

TYLER: Oh, yeah, you gotta start making the list.

JACK: What list?

TYLER: The "now I get to go out and buy the exact same stuff all over again" list. That list.

JACK: I don't... think so.

TYLER: This time maybe get a widescreen TV. You'll be occupied for weeks.

JACK: Well, I have to file a claim...

TYLER: The things you own, they end up owning you.

JACK: Don't I?

TYLER: Do what you like.

JACK: God, it's late. I should find a hotel...

TYLER: A hotel?

JACK: Yeah.

TYLER: So, you called me up, because you just wanted to have a drink before you... go find a hotel?

JACK: I don't follow...

TYLER: We're on our third pitcher of beer. Just ask me.

JACK: Huh?

TYLER: You called me so you could have a place to stay.

JACK: No, I...

TYLER: Why don't you cut the shit and ask if you can stay at my place?

JACK: Would that be a problem?

TYLER: Is it a problem for you to ask?

JACK: Can I stay at your place?

TYLER: Yes, you can.

JACK: Thank you.

TYLER: You're welcome. But, I want you to do me one favor.

JACK: What's that?

TYLER: I want you to hit me as hard as you can.

JACK: What?

TYLER: I want you to hit me as hard as you can.

TYLER: But maybe, just maybe, you've been delivered.

JACK: Delivered from Swedish furniture.

TYLER: Delivered from armchairs in obscure green stripe patterns.

JACK: Delivered from Martha Stewart.

TYLER: Delivered from bullshit colors like "Cobalt," "Ebony," and "Fuchsia."

TYLER: Could be worse. A woman could cut off your penis while you're asleep and toss it out the window of a moving car.

JACK: There's always that.

TYLER: I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's a terrible tragedy.

JACK: ...no ...no ...

TYLER: I mean, you did lose a lot of nice, neat little shit. The trendy paper lamps, the Euro-trash shelving unit, am I right?

JACK: I guess so.

TYLER: And, now it's gone.

JACK: All gone.

JACK: You buy furniture. You tell yourself: this is the last sofa I'll ever need. No matter what else happens, I've got the sofa issue handled. Then, the right set of dishes. The right dinette.

TYLER: This is how we fill up our lives.

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: Well, uh... great.

TYLER: Keep it up, then. Keep it right up.

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?

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...

JACK: This is how I met --

TYLER: Tyler Durden.

TYLER: Two, equal parts gasoline and diet cola. Three, dissolve kitty-litter in gasoline until the mixture is thick.

JACK: Pardon me?

JACK: 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. Thirty seconds.

JACK: Somehow, I realize all of this -- the gun, the bombs, the revolution -- is really about Marla Singer.

TYLER: It's getting exciting now.

JACK: That old saying, how you always hurt the one you love, well, it works both way.

TYLER: One minute. 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: Who is this?

VOICE: Maintenance.

JACK: Listen, something is going to happen, something terrible...

VOICE: Very good, Sir.

JACK: Excuse me?

VOICE: Don't worry about us, sir. We're solid.

JACK: Now wait, there's been a mix-up. Everything's changed...

VOICE: You told me you'd say that.

JACK: Abort the plan.

VOICE: You told me you'd say that, too.

JACK: Did I tell you I'd call you a fascist dickhead?!

VOICE: Well, sir, you said you might.

RICKY: His name is Robert Paulson!

JACK: No!

RICKY: It's what he would have wanted, sir.

JACK: What he wanted? Look... look at him. Look at him! What does he want? This is a person. This is not a cog in your machine...

RICKY: But, this is Project Mayhem.

JACK: No, no. This is a man -- this man has a name...

RICKY: But, in Project Mayhem, we have no names.

JACK: No! Wrong! This man's name is Robert Paulson.

RICKY: Robert Paulson?

JACK: Robert Paulson is dead. He's dead, because of you...

LOU: What are you doing?!

TYLER: Pleeeeeease!

LOU: Okay! Okay, fuck it! Use the basement! Get off me!

TYLER: We need some towels, Lou. We need replacement light bulbs.

LOU: Alright, Christ! Fucking let me go!

TYLER: Thank you. Thank you, sir...

LOU: Let go of me!!

LOU: He don't own this place, I do. How much money's he getting for this?

TYLER: There is no money.

LOU: Really?

TYLER: It's free to all.

LOU: Ain't that something?

TYLER: Yes, it is.

LOU: Look, stupid fuck, I want everyone outta here now!

TYLER: You're welcome to join our club.

LOU: Did you hear what I just said?!

TYLER: You and your friend.

LOU: Who told you motherfuckers you could use my place?

TYLER: We have a deal worked out with Irvine.

LOU: Irvine? Irvine's at home with a broken collarbone.

TYLER: Would you rather be dead?

RAYMOND: No, please, no, God, no!

TYLER: Animals.

RAYMOND: Yeah ... animals and s-s-s ---

TYLER: Stuff. That means you have to get more schooling.

RAYMOND: Too much school.

RAYMOND: Biology, mostly.

TYLER: Why?

RAYMOND: I... I don't know...

TYLER: What did you want to be, Raymond K. Hessel?

RAYMOND: S-S-Stuff.

TYLER: "Stuff." Were the mid-terms hard?

TYLER: Is this a picture of Mom and Dad?

RAYMOND: Yesssss...

TYLER: Your mom and dad will have to call kindly doctor so-and-so to dig up your dental records, because there won't be much left of your face.

RAYMOND: Please, God, no...

TYLER: Raymond K. Hessel. 1320 SE Benning, apartment A. A small, cramped basement apartment.

RAYMOND: How'd you know?

TYLER: They give basement apartments letters instead of numbers. Raymond, you're going to die.