Fight Club Page #2

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

The Intern walks away from Jack, picks up a chart.

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.

The Intern moves into the other room. Jack stares after him.

EXT. FIRST METHODIST CHURCH - NIGHT

Jack heads for the front door.

INT. FIRST METHODIST CHURCH MEETING ROOM - 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 pale skin and sunken eyes -- he's clearly dying.

SPEAKER:

I... wanted three kids. Two boys and

a girl. Mindy wanted two girls and

one boy. We never could agree on

anything.

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

lighten the mood.

SPEAKER:

Well, she had her first child a month

ago, a girl, with her new husband...

And, Thank God. I'm glad for her,

because she deserves...

The speaker breaks down, WEEPS UNCONTROLLABLY.

Jack watches. A couple of the men go up to the speaker,

comforting him, leading him away. A LEADER takes the stand.

LEADER:

Everyone, let's thank Thomas for

sharing himself with us.

Jack, uncomfortable, joins EVERYONE ELSE:

EVERYONE:

(in unison)

Thank you, Thomas.

LEADER:

I look around this room and I see a

lot of courage. And it gives me

strength. We give each other

strength.

Jack looks around. Many of the men are sniffling, sobbing.

Jack squirms in his seat.

LEADER:

It's time for the one-on-one. Let's

follow Thomas's example and open

ourselves.

Everyone gets out of their chairs and begins pairing-off.

Jack stands, uncomfortable.

LEADER:

Can everyone find a partner?

Bob, his chin down on his chest, starts toward Jack,

shuffling his feet.

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.)

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 (V.O.)

Strangers with this kind of honesty

make me go a big rubbery one.

Bob breaks into sobbing, putting his head on Jack's shoulder

and completely covering Jack's face. After a long beat of

crying, Bob raises up his head, looks at Jack's NAMETAG.

BOB:

Go ahead, Cornelius. You can cry.

They look at each other. Slowly, Jack's eyes grow wet.

JACK (V.O.)

Then... something happened. I was

lost in oblivion -- dark and silent

and complete.

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