| | Narrator: You wake up at Seatac, SFO, LAX. You wake up at O'Hare, Dallas-Fort Worth, BWI. Pacific, mountain, central. Lose an hour, gain an hour. This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time. You wake up at Air Harbor International. If you wake up at a different time, in a different place, could you wake up as a different person? |
| | Tyler Durden: Did you know if you mixed equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm? |
| | Narrator: No. I did not know that. Is that true? |
| | Tyler Durden: That's right; one can make all kinds of explosives using simple household items... |
| | Narrator: Really? |
| | Tyler Durden: If one were so inclined. |
| | Narrator: We have front row seats for this theater of mass destruction. The demolition 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. |
| | Marla Singer: I've got a stomachful of Xanax. I took what was left of a bottle. It might have been too much. |
| | [after vigorous sex with Tyler Durden] |
| | Marla Singer: My God. I haven't been fucked like that since grade school. |
| | Narrator: [V.O] This is Bob. Bob had bitch tits. |
| | [Camera pans to a REMAINING MEN TOGETHER sign] |
| | Narrator: [V.O] This was a support group for men with testicular cancer. The big moosie slobbering all over me... that was Bob. |
| | Robert 'Bob' Paulson: We're still men. |
| | Narrator: [slightly muffled due to Bob's enormous breasts] Yes, we're men. Men is what we are. |
| | Narrator: [V.O] Eight 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. And that was where I fit... |
| | Robert 'Bob' Paulson: They're gonna have to open my pecs again to drain the fluid. |
| | Narrator: [V.O] Between those huge sweating tits that hung enormous, the way you'd think of God's as big. |
| | Tyler Durden: It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything. |
| | 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. |
| | 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. |
| | 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: 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: The things you own end up owning you. |
| | Tyler Durden: God Damn! We just had a near-life experience, fellas. |