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Fight Club

Narrator: This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time.

[after vigorous sex with Tyler Durden]
Marla Singer: My God. I haven't been fucked like that since grade school.

Narrator: I am Jack's smirking revenge.

Tyler Durden: Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.

Narrator: First person that comes out this fucking door gets a... gets a LEAD SALAD, you understand?

Tyler Durden: All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.

Boss: Is that your blood?
Narrator: Some of it, yeah.

Tyler Durden: In the world I see - you are stalking elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center. You'll wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life. You'll climb the wrist-thick kudzu vines that wrap the Sears Tower. And when you look down, you'll see tiny figures pounding corn, laying strips of venison on the empty car pool lane of some abandoned superhighway.

Narrator: I felt like destroying something beautiful.

Tyler Durden: You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.

Narrator: When you have insomnia, you're never really asleep... and you're never really awake.

Tyler Durden: Listen up, maggots. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.

Narrator: On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.

Tyler Durden: The first rule of Fight Club is - you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is - you DO NOT talk about Fight Club. Third rule of Fight Club, someone yells "Stop!", goes limp, taps out, the fight is over. Fourth rule, only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule, one fight at a time, fellas. Sixth rule, no shirt, no shoes. Seventh rule, fights will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule, if this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight.

Narrator: It was beautiful; we were selling rich women their own fat asses back to them.

Narrator: When people think you're dying, they really, really listen to you, instead of just --
Marla Singer: -- instead of just waiting for their turn to speak?

Tyler Durden: It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything.

[After meeting and having sex with Marla]
Tyler Durden: Man, you've got some fucked up friends, I'm tellin' ya. Limber, though...

Tyler Durden: The things you own end up owning you.

Narrator: Well, what do you want me to do? You just want me to hit you?
Tyler Durden: C'mon, do me this one favor.
Narrator: Why?
Tyler Durden: Why? I don't know why; I don't know. Never been in a fight. You?
Narrator: No, but that's a good thing.
Tyler Durden: No, it is not. How much can you know about yourself, you've never been in a fight? I don't wanna die without any scars. So come on; hit me before I lose my nerve.
Narrator: This is crazy.
Tyler Durden: So go crazy. Let 'er rip.
Narrator: I don't know about this.
Tyler Durden: I don't either. Who gives a shit? No one's watching. What do you care?
Narrator: Whoa, wait, this is crazy. You want me to hit you?
Tyler Durden: That's right.
Narrator: What, like in the face?
Tyler Durden: Surprise me.
Narrator: This is so fucking stupid...
[Narrator swings, connects against Tyler's head]
Tyler Durden: Motherfucker! You hit me in the ear!
Narrator: Well, Jesus, I'm sorry.
Tyler Durden: Ow, Christ... why the ear, man?
Narrator: Guess I fucked it up...
Tyler Durden: No, that was perfect!

[Tyler and Narrator are discussing ideal opponents.]
Tyler Durden: OK: any historic figure.
Narrator: I'd fight Gandhi.
Tyler Durden: Good answer.
Narrator: How about you?
Tyler Durden: Lincoln.
Narrator: Lincoln?
Tyler Durden: Big guy, big reach. Skinny guys fight 'til they're burger.

Narrator: A new car built by my company leaves somewhere traveling at 60 mph. The rear differential locks up. The car crashes and burns with everyone trapped inside. Now, should we initiate a recall? Take the number of vehicles in the field, A, multiply by the probable rate of failure, B, multiply by the average out-of-court settlement, C. A times B times C equals X. If X is less than the cost of a recall, we don't do one.
Business woman on plane: Are there a lot of these kinds of accidents?
Narrator: You wouldn't believe.
Business woman on plane: Which car company do you work for?
Narrator: A major one.

Tyler Durden: Did you know that by mixing equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?
Narrator: No I didn't know that; is that true?
Tyler Durden: That's right... One could make all kinds of explosives, using simple house-hold items.
Narrator: Really...?
Tyler Durden: If one were so inclined.
Narrator: You know Tyler, you are by far the most interesting single-serving friend I've ever met... see I have this thing; everything on a plane is single-serving--
Tyler Durden: Oh I get it, it's very clever.
Narrator: Thank you.
Tyler Durden: How's that working out for you?
Narrator: What?
Tyler Durden: Being clever.
Narrator: Good.
Tyler Durden: Well keep it up then.
[Gets up from airplane seat]
Tyler Durden: Now a question of etiquette; as I pass, do I give you the ass or the crotch...?

Tyler Durden: You have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh.

[While burning the Narrator's hand with lye]
Tyler Durden: Shut up! Our fathers were our models for God. If our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God?
Narrator: No, no, I... don't...
Tyler Durden: Listen to me! You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you. This is not the worst thing that can happen.
Narrator: It isn't?!

Tyler Durden: Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.

Narrator: I am Jack's cold sweat.

[Holding up a wad of cash]
Marla Singer: You're not getting this back. I consider it asshole tax.

Narrator: If I did have a tumor, I'd name it Marla.

Tyler Durden: We're designed to be hunters and we're in a society of shopping. There's nothing to kill anymore, there's nothing to fight, nothing to overcome, nothing to explore. In that social emasculation this everyman is created.

[meeting aboard an airliner]
Narrator: What do you do for a living?
Tyler Durden: Why? So you can pretend like you're interested?

Narrator: He was *the* guerilla terrorist in the food service industry.
[the Narrator looks at Tyler, who's urinating in a pot]
Tyler Durden: Do not watch. I cannot go when you watch.
Narrator: Apart from seasoning the lobster bisque, he farted on the meringue, sneezed on braised endive, and as for the cream of mushroom soup, well...
Tyler Durden: [snickers] Go ahead. Tell 'em.
Narrator: ...you get the idea.

Narrator: I am Jack's raging bile duct.

[at a cancer support meeting]
Narrator: Oh yeah, Chloe... Chloe looked how Meryl Streep's skeleton would look if you made it smile and walk around the party being extra nice to everyone.
Chloe: Well, I'm still here. But I don't know for how long. That's as much certainty as anyone can give me... I have some good news: I no longer have any fear of death.
[audience claps]
Chloe: But I am in a pretty lonely place. No one will have sex with me. I'm so close to the end and all I want is to get laid for the last time... I have pornographic movies in my apartment, lubricants, and amyl nitrate...
[the group leader takes the mic]
Group Leader: Everyone, let's thank Chloe.

Narrator: A guy who 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.

Narrator: I ran. I ran until my muscles burned and my veins pumped battery acid. Then I ran some more.

Narrator: After fighting, everything else in your life got the volume turned down.

Narrator: If you wake up at a different time in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?

Tyler Durden: Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing.

Tyler Durden: Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate, so we can buy shit we don't need.

Narrator: And then, something happened. I let go. Lost in oblivion. Dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.

Tyler Durden: Do you know what a "duvet" is?
Narrator: It's a comforter...
Tyler Durden: It's a blanket. Just a blanket.

Narrator: [While brutally beating Angel Face] I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Panda that wouldn't screw to save its species. I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all the French beaches I'd never see. I wanted to breathe smoke.

Narrator: [reading] "I am Jack's colon."
Tyler Durden: I get cancer, I kill Jack.

Tyler Durden: You just had a near-life experience.

Narrator: Everywhere I travel, tiny life. Single-serving sugar, single-serving cream, single pat of butter. The microwave Cordon Bleu hobby kit. Shampoo-conditioner combos, sample-packaged mouthwash, tiny bars of soap. The people I meet on each flight? They're single-serving friends.

Narrator: We'll split up the week. You can have lymphoma, tuberculosis and --
Marla Singer: You take tuberculosis. My smoking doesn't go over at all.
Narrator: I think testicular cancer should be no contest.
Marla Singer: Well, technically, I have more of a right to be there than you. You still have your balls.
Narrator: You're kidding.
Marla Singer: I don't know -- am I? ...I'll take the parasites.
Narrator: You can't have both parasites. You can take blood parasites --
Marla Singer: I want brain parasites.
Narrator: Okay. I'll take blood parasites and organic brain dementia --
Marla Singer: I want that.
Narrator: You can't have the whole brain!
Marla Singer: So far, you have four and I only have two!
Narrator: Then take blood parasites. It's yours. Now we each have three.

Narrator: I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

Tyler Durden: It could be worse. A woman could cut off your penis while you're sleeping and toss it out the window of a moving car.
Narrator: There's always that.

[The narrator pulls a loose tooth out of his mouth.]
Tyler Durden: Hey, even the Mona Lisa's falling apart.

[about attending support groups for diseases she doesn't have]
Marla Singer: It's cheaper than a movie, and there's free coffee.

Narrator: Look, nobody takes this more seriously than me. That condo was my life, okay? I loved every stick of furniture in that place. That was not just a bunch of stuff that got destroyed, it was ME!
[voice-over]
Narrator: I'd like to thank the Academy...

Narrator: I am Jack's wasted life.

Narrator: I am Jack's inflamed sense of rejection.

Tyler Durden: Fuck what you know. You need to forget about what you know, that's your problem, forget about what you think you know about life, about friendship and especially about me and you.

Narrator: I am Jack's broken heart.

Narrator: Is Tyler my bad dream? Or am I Tyler's?

[last line]
Narrator: You met me at a very strange time in my life.

Narrator: Life insurance pays off triple if you die on a business trip.

Narrator: Was it ticking?
Airport Security Officer: Actually throwers don't worry about ticking 'cause modern bombs don't tick.
Narrator: Sorry, throwers?
Airport Security Officer: Baggage handlers. But, when a suitcase vibrates, then the throwers gotta call the police.
Narrator: My suitcase was vibrating?
Airport Security Officer: Nine times out of ten it's an electric razor, but every once in a while...
[whispering]
Airport Security Officer: it's a dildo. Of course it's company policy never to, imply ownership in the event of a dildo... always use the indefinite article "a dildo", never "your dildo".
Narrator: I don't own...

Narrator: With a gun barrel between your teeth, you speak only in vowels.

Narrator: Fight club wasn't about winning or losing. It wasn't about words. The hysterical shouting was in tongues, like at a Pentecostal Church.

Narrator: I got in everyone's hostile little face. Yes, these are bruises from fighting. Yes, I'm comfortable with that. I am enlightened.

Tyler Durden: The salt balance has to be just right, so the best fat for making soap comes from humans.
Narrator: Wait. What is this place?
Tyler Durden: A liposuction clinic.

Narrator: Except for their humping, Tyler and Marla were never in the same room. My parents pulled this exact same act for years.

Marla Singer: A condom is the glass slipper for our generation. You slip one on when you meet a stranger. You "dance" all night, and then you throw it away. The condom, I mean, not the stranger.
Narrator: What?

Marla Singer: I got this dress at a thrift store for one dollar.
Narrator: It was worth every penny.
Marla Singer: It's a bridesmaid's dress. Someone loved it intensely for one day, and then tossed it. Like a Christmas tree. So special. Then, bam, it's on the side of the road.
[Grabs Narrator's crotch.]
Marla Singer: Tinsel still clinging to it. Like a sex crime victim. Underwear inside out. Bound with electrical tape.
Narrator: Well, then it suits you.
Marla Singer: You can borrow it sometime.

Tyler Durden: Fuck Martha Stewart; Martha's polishing the brass on the Titanic. It's all going down, man.

[Of Marla.]
Tyler Durden: She's a predator posing as a house pet.

Narrator: Marla... the little scratch on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop tonguing it, but you can't.

Narrator: You had to give it to him: he had a plan. And it started to make sense, in a Tyler sort of way. No fear. No distractions. The ability to let that which does not matter truly slide.

[Pointing at an emergency instruction manual on a plane]
Tyler Durden: Emergency water landing, 600 miles an hour: blank faces, calm as Hindu cows.

Members of Fight Club: [Chanting] His name is Robert Paulsen.

Tyler Durden: [His face is soaked in blood. He is shaking it over Lou and screaming] You don't know where I've been. You don't know where I've been. Just let us have the basement Lou.

[While the narrator is on the phone with the police]
Tyler Durden: Tell him. Tell him, "The liberator who destroyed my property has realigned my perceptions".

Narrator: And then, Tyler was gone.

Marla Singer: Tyler ... you're the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

Narrator: People are always asking me if know Tyler Durden.

Boss: [Reading a piece of paper] "The first rule of fight club is you don't talk about fight club. The second rule of fight club is you don't talk about fight club." Is this yours?
Narrator: Huh?
[voice over]
Narrator: I'm half asleep again, I must have left the original in the copy machine.
Boss: We don't pay you to abuse the copy machine.
Narrator: Now there's an image...
Boss: What do you know about this?
Narrator: Well, I gotta tell ya - I'd be very careful who I talk to about this. Because the person who wrote this is dangerous. And one day they could just snap. And then this button-down, Oxford-cloth psycho, stalking from office to office with an Armalite AR-180 carbine gas-operated semi-automatic, pumping round after round into colleagues and coworkers. This could be someone you've known for years. Someone very close to you.
[voice over]
Narrator: Tyler's words coming out of my mouth.
[on screen]
Narrator: Or maybe you shouldn't go bringing me every little piece of trash you happen to pick up.
[voice over]
Narrator: And I used to be such a nice guy.
[phone rings]
Narrator: [into phone] Compliance and Liability.
Marla Singer: My tit's gonna rot off.
Narrator: [to Boss] Would you excuse me? I have to take this.

Tyler Durden: Self improvement is masturbation. Now self destruction...

Narrator: What are we doing tonight?
Tyler Durden: Tonight? We make soap.
Narrator: Really.
Tyler Durden: To make soap, first we render fat.

Narrator: Hello?
Tyler Durden: [Eating breakfast cereal]
[crunch, crunch]
Tyler Durden: Who is this?
Narrator: Tyler?
Tyler Durden: Who is this?
Narrator: We met on the plane, we had the same briefcase - the clever guy?
Tyler Durden: (crunch) Oh yeah, right.
Narrator: How did you get this number?
Tyler Durden: I *69ed you I never pick up my phone. (crunch, crunch) So what's up?
Narrator: You're not gonna believe this....

Marla Singer: You're Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Jackass!

Narrator: I flipped through catalogs and wondered: "What kind of dining set defines me as a person?"

Narrator: Marla's philosophy of life is that she might die at any moment. The tragedy, she said, was that she didn't.

Narrator: I can't get married - I'm a thirty-year-old boy.

Marla Singer: [After taking a bottle of sleeping pills] This isn't a real suicide-thing. This is probably one of those cry-for-help things.

Tyler Durden: Hitting bottom isn't a weekend retreat. It's not a goddamn seminar. Stop trying to control everything and just let go! LET GO!

Tyler Durden: OK, you are now firing a gun at your imaginary friend before gallons of nitroglycerine!

Narrator: Deja vu - all over again.

Tyler Durden: I'll bring us through this. As always. I'll carry you - kicking and screaming - and in the end you'll thank me.

Narrator: He was full of pep. Must've had his grande-latte enema.

Narrator: Every evening I died, and every evening I was born again, resurrected.

Narrator: We have just lost cabin pressure.

[about Tyler splicing frames of pornography into family films]
Narrator: So when the snoody cat, and the courageous dog, with the celebrity voices meet for the first time in reel three, that's when you'll catch a flash of Tyler's contribution to the film.
[the audience is watching the film, the pornography flashes for a split second]
Narrator: Nobody knows that they saw it, but they did-
Tyler Durden: A nice, big, cock...
[several audience members look rattled, a little girl is crying]
Narrator: Even a hummingbird couldn't catch Tyler at work.

Tyler Durden: [To club owner] Got it. Oh shit I forgot!
[Club owner punches Tyler in the face]

Tyler Durden: Look... the people you are after are the people you depend on. We cook your meals. We haul your trash. We connect your calls. We drive your ambulances. We guard you while you sleep. Do not fuck with us.

Narrator: Bob loved me because he thought my testicles were removed too. Being there, pressed against his tits, ready to cry. This was my vacation... and she ruined *everything*.
Marla Singer: This is cancer right?
Narrator: This chick Marla singer did not have testicular cancer. She was a liar. She had no diseases at all. I had seen her at Free and Clear my blood parasite group Thursdays. Then at Hope, my bi-monthly sickle cell circle. And again at Seize the Day, my tuberculous Friday night. Marla... the big tourist. Her lie reflected my lie. Suddenly I felt nothing. I couldn't cry, so once again I couldn't sleep.

Narrator: Bob had bitch tits.

Narrator: With insomnia, nothing is real. Everything is far away. Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy.

Narrator: It's called a change-over. The movie goes on and nobody in the audience has any idea.

[While narrator is on the phone]
Tyler Durden: Reject the basic assumptions of civilization, especially the importance of materiel possessions.

Lou: I'm fucking Lou. Who the fuck are you?

Tyler Durden: You're too old fat man. Your tits are to big,
[Tyler walks away, throwing his cigarette]
Tyler Durden: get the fuck off my porch.

Narrator: We have front row seats for this theatre of mass destruction. The demolitions committee of Project Mayhem wrapped the foundation columns of a dozen buildings with blasting gelatin. In two minutes primary charges will blow base charges and a few square blocks will be reduced to smoldering rubble. I know this, because Tyler knows this.

Narrator: Tyler, I'm grateful to you; for everything that you've done for me. But this is too much. I don't want this.
Tyler Durden: What do you want?! Wanna go back to the shit job, fuckin' condo world, watching sitcoms? Fuck you, I won't do it.

[The Narrator's apartment has just been blown to pieces]
Narrator: I had it all. I had a stereo that was very decent, a wardrobe that was getting very respectable. I was close to being complete.
Tyler Durden: Shit man, now it's all gone.

Narrator: Clean food, please.
Maitre D': In that case, sir, may I advise against the lady eating clam chowder?
Narrator: No clam chowder, thank you.

Marla Singer: Listen. I tried Tyler. I really tried. There are things about you that I like, you're smart, you're funny, you're spectacular in bed. But you are intolerable. You have serious emotional problems, deep seated problems for which you should seek professional help.

Narrator: By the end of the first month, I didn't miss TV.

Tyler Durden: Would you like to say a few words to mark the occasion?
Narrator: [with Tyler's gun in his mouth] mm mm mm mm mm mmmmmm.
[Tyler removes the gun]
Narrator: I still can't think of anything.
Tyler Durden: Ah. Flashback humor.

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

Narrator: If I didn't say anything, people always assumed the worst.

Narrator: 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.

Narrator: Most of the week we were Ozzie and Harriet, but every Saturday night we were finding something out: we were finding out more and more that we were not alone. It used to be that when I came home angry and depressed I'd just clean my condo, polish my Scandinavian furniture. I should have been looking for a new condo. I should have been hanging with my insurance company. I should have been upset about my nice, neat, flaming little shit. But I wasn't.

Narrator: When I come back out, I'm bringing a shovel."