interrogators.
Jesus Christ!
-Medevacs down! Medevacs down!
-Medevacs hit.
Roger. We got one down here.
Guidon. Parade, hut!
On behalf of the president,
please accept this flag...
...in recognition of
your loved ones faithful service.
On behalf of the Army chief of staff
and the Arlington Ladies...
...we extend our deepest sympathies.
God bless you.
Dear Sarge:
Maybe this is my last letter
As the C-130 coasts to a stop, the hatch rotating down on a hot, dusty lifeless airstrip somewhere in Vietnam. Nothing seems to live or move in the midday sun.
TITLES RUN
A DOZEN NEW RECRUITS step off the plane, unloading their duffel bags, looking around like only the new can look around, their hair regulation-clipped, crisp, new green fatigues fitting them like cardboard.
CHRIS TAYLOR is just a
FIGHT CLUB
by
Jim Uhls
based on a novel by
Chuck Palahnuik
2/16/98
SCREEN BLACK
JACK (V.O.)
People were always asking me, did I
know Tyler Durden.
FADE IN:
INT. SOCIAL ROOM - TOP FLOOR OF HIGH RISE -- NIGHT
TYLER has one arm around Jacks shoulder; the other hand
holds a HANDGUN with the barrel lodged in JACKS MOUTH.
Tyler is sitting in Jacks lap.
They are both sweating and disheveled, both around
A normal Dennys, Spires-like coffee shop in Los Angeles. Its about 9:00 in the morning. While the place isnt jammed, theres a healthy number of people drinking coffee, munching on bacon and eating eggs.
Two of these people are a YOUNG MAN and a YOUNG WOMAN. The Young Man has a slight working-class English accent and, like his fellow countryman, smokes cigarettes like theyre going out of style.
It