Fight Club Page #3

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.

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