Crawling
Authors note: Okay, here we are on the fourth chapter of my general fuck around with Fight Club. Before I get on with the story I should let you know that I'm gonna be changing the back story to Jack and Tyler's history. Don't worry, you will know exactly what I mean when you start reading. If you don't then I'm sure you'll get it at the end.
Also there's a few things I want to reply to that have been mentioned in my reviews. First off, I'm sorry if some people think that everyone is getting a little out of character. My reason for this is that if I didn't do it, you'd just have a sequel to Fight Club which was basically a re-hash of the first. To the guy who said, "You're deluded. He was infatuated with Tyler. Tyler GOOD!", let me ask you this. If you're best friend screwed you over would you still be infatuated by him? That's the whole point to my story. I'm trying to show that "Jack" doesn't need Tyler any more. And as for who's real? "Jack" or Tyler? Well read on.
PS When did America start making "Queer as Folk". That's like one of my favourite programs in England. I can't believe the Americans are remaking it. They better not ruin it like they did "Men Behaving Badly".
All characters belong to their respective partners. Lyrics at the beginning from Linkin Park.
Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting / reacting
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It's haunting how I can't seem
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
[Without a sense of confidence / I'm convinced
there's just too much pressure to take]
I've felt this way before
So insecure... - "Crawling" Linkin Park
I'm sat in the Hotel's restaurant thinking about what Tyler said last night. Am I the imaginary friend? If not, how can I disprove it? There was once a philosopher a couple of hundred years ago, who claimed that all the world was his imagination there to entertain him and that when he died he would wake up in the real world. No one could disprove his theory because every time they did something he would simple turn around and tell them that he imagined they were going to do that.
That's how I felt at this moment. I rubbed my tired eyes with a napkin and when I opened them I found myself in my Psychiatrist's office. I was lying on the couch and a big black leather chair was next to me. The chair spun to reveal Tyler. Tyler in a tweed suit and Freudian goatee.
"Tyler?" I stuttered,
Tyler didn't say anything, he just burst out laughing and he wouldn't stop.
"Tyler! Tyler! Stop it! What the fuck is going on?"
Suddenly, my Mom burst into the room. Except it wasn't my Mom. It was Marla dressed like her. She walked up to me and blew smoke in my face. Tyler continued laughing.
"Sweetheart, what have I told you about Tyler? You don't need him. You're a big boy now." she cooed,
"Mom," I said "I'm sorry. I just wanted ice cream and Tyler wanted some too."
"Tyler has to go Sweety."
And with that woke up. I was back in the restaurant. A waiter was stood over me shaking my shoulder. I looked at him and grimaced.
"Sorry sir, are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I didn't get much sleep last night. Um, listen, d'ya think you could call me a cab?"
"Certainly sir. I ring one for you now. Where will you be going?"
"20th Century Studios." Tyler said as he sat down next to me.
"Certainly" the waiter said as he walked away.
I watched him leave and then I turned to Tyler. He was dressed in a black suit with black shirt and tie. I was suddenly reminded of my dream and I shuddered. I put my mobile next to my head.
"What are you doing?" Tyler smirked and then "Oh I see. You're gonna do that whole 'Quantum Leap' thing where that guy used to pretend he was on the phone when he talked to that hologram of his. Man, you're such a Fan Boy."
"Hey, Tyler" I said pretending the call had connected on my phone, "Listen cut the crap and tell what the hell you were doing last night?"
"Look how many times have I got to tell you? I'm sorry. I didn't actually think you going to believe me that I came first and you're my alter-ego. Who knows who came first? All we know now is that I'm here, you're here and we've got things to do. Hey, here's one for ya. What if we're Marla's alter-egos?"
For the first time since I had been reintroduced to Tyler, I laughed.
"Now how would that work?" I asked,
"I don't know!" said Tyler laughing "It's a real mind fuck, ain't it?"
"Look I want to know happened last night. Sp d'ya wanna go upstairs to somewhere a little bit less...public." I said putting the phone down.
"Okay, but wait, give me a pen and the $50 you got in your pocket."
"What?! How did you know I had...?"
"Just give me them."
I handed Tyler the note and a pen. Tyler began scribbling away on the note, chuckling to himself. Then he got up and walked over to the waiter I had spoken to earlier. He was having a cigarette near one of those charity jars. The ones for third world countries. This particular jar had a picture of a starving child covered in flies. His flesh gripping tightly on to his bones. Underneath his picture were the words "Help Rwanda". I got up and watched Tyler hand the note to the waiter, "this is for you", and then walk out of the room. I watched as the waiter began to stare at the note and then at me. I felt uncomfortable and ran after Tyler.
I caught up with Tyler in my room. He was sat on the edge of the bed flicking through the stations on Cable TV. "What was that about?" I asked,
"The note I handed that guy said, 'This could feed a child from Rwanda for three weeks'. The waiter has two options. He could put that note in the jar that was next to him or he could spend it quickly relinquishing himself of responsibility for it's message. Yet, here's the genius part. You and I know that most shops are reluctant to take $50 notes because there is a good chance they're fake. We know this because you've been trying to get rid of that note for over a week. His only other option is to put it in the bank and even then he will feel uncomfortable handing in a note that clearly states that it wants to be put into a charity jar."
And what does this prove?
"Nothing much really. But it's gonna, hopefully, help him realise the feelings of guilt that can arise through the inheritance of money, or maybe I just like fucking with people."
"Speaking of which," I said "What did you do last night? I mean, did you really have to feed me all that bullshit or..."
Tyler put a finger to his lips and pointed to the screen. There was a news report on. A women, reminded me of Marla, stood in front of a bar in the more fashionable part of LA.
"It was here," she began, "that the actor, Brad Pitt, was attacked lat night while out with his wife, Jennifer Aniston. Brad had been out celebrating the near completion of his new movie, Fight Club. Brad portrays the infamous Tyler Durden. A man who planned to blow up several federal buildings and was also the ring leader of various underground boxing clubs. Some say that Tyler never existed and that he was really the alter ego of a car recall operator named...."
"What the hell is this?" I said talking over the rest of the report, "You attacked Brad Pitt! Are you out of your fucking mind? What the FUCK?!"
"Hey, calm down!" Tyler turned off the TV. "I didn't attack him. That's just all part of CNN's sensational bullshit. I just found him in the toilets and roughed him up a bit. I took his driver's license and said I would come and find him if he didn't try and stop the movie."
I stood up and began pacing the room.
"I can't believe this. You did a human sacrifice on Brad Pitt?! Christ, I'm gonna get lynched."
"You're not gonna get lynched." Tyler said handing me a cigarette,
"I thought you didn't smoke." I said taking it,
"I changed my mind. Look, will you calm down. The police will have trouble finding you. First of all, my face was completely covered up and the driver's license I took was wiped for finger prints and chucked in a bin in a 24 hour library."
"I can't believe this. This is... This is... I don't know what this is, Tyler."
Suddenly the phone rang. Tyler picked it up. "What?" pause "Okay". He replaced the receiver and began walking out of the room. He didn't even look back as he spoke. "Your taxi's here."
On the way to the studios my stomach began to do somersaults. What if Brad Pitt recognises me? I am Jack's cold sweat.
When I arrived at the studios I was greeted by the director, David Fincher. He shook my hand warmly and took me around the sets. It was the strangest thing. One minute I was in LA and the next I'm stood in my kitchen in Paper street. Then the next I'm in my old apartment before it was rebuilt and Marla moved in. I also saw Brad Pitt. He was stood over in the corner talking to Someone Norton, the guy who was playing me. Brad's right side of his face was bruised all the way down from his forehead to his chin. His eye swollen shut and his lower lip jutted out like Bubba from "Forrest Gump".
"Is he okay?" I asked David,
"Oh Brad? Sure he's fine. He had a little run in with some weirdo last night."
"That little weirdo would be me, dickwad" Tyler said as he stood next to me,
"He didn't take it to heart. He's always getting threats of some kind. Apparently, some guy tried to creep into his house after they'd seen 'Twelve Monkeys'. Apparently, they weren't happy with his portrayal of an animal activist."
"Ask them if they're gonna finish the movie." Tyler whispered in my ear,
"Um," I began, "Are you gonna still go ahead with the film."
"Of course we are." Fincher laughed, "Hey, this is the best thing that could happen to us. This is really good publicity. That guy could have blown up one of the sets and I would have still done the picture."
"FUCK! FUCK!" Tyler began hitting a wall and screaming behind my back, "Motherfucker."
"We'll just use his body double in some of scenes," Fincher continued, "Apply lot's of make up to him and shoot most of the scenes in bad light. Come on. I'll show you some of the scenes that we've done already."
Tyler ran off screaming.
It was strange watching my life on the big screen. Norton had got me down to a T. Brad on the other hand... well, he was just a little bit too perfect to play Tyler. After all, Tyler's words about not needing perfect skin and perfect teeth seemed hollow when Brad spoke. Maybe this is what Tyler meant. When it was over, I made arrangements to come and see the finished product and went back to the hotel room.
Back at the hotel room, Tyler was sat in front of my laptop typing away.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"This will be my bets idea yet." Tyler said. I had suddenly noticed that he was beginning to sound like a mad scientist.
"Tyler, give it up man." I said pouring myself a drink, "You heard what David said. Anything you do is simply gonna add more publicity to the film. Besides I know you don't have any good ideas."
"I do"
"No, Tyler, you don't. I know because you know."
Tyler stood up. He was pissed. He walked up till he was right in my face.
"And the only reason I'm having bad ideas is because the guy I share brain space with is deliberately blocking his thoughts."
"AH, you noticed." I was beginning to feel quite good about myself. I don't think I've ever made Tyler sweat before.
"C'mon, Ikea Boy. Help me out here."
"No, Tyler. I'm not helping. I've changed and you haven't. It's not gonna work. I don't need you anymore."
Tyler stumbled a bit and grabbed hold of me for balance.
"Yeah, you do." He groaned "You need me to live. You brought me back."
"Tyler, I've got along with out you for six years. You brought yourself back. You need me more then I need you."
Tyler fell to the floor. He was dying. Yet, it looked strangely familiar. "You cocksucker. After all, we've been through.". Suddenly, I remembered something.
I'm five years old. I'm sat playing a board game. I'm playing a board game with Tyler. Tyler is winning as per usual. My Mom walks into the room. She starts asking me who I'm playing with. I tell her about Tyler. Mom can't see Tyler. Mom doesn't like Tyler. She doesn't think he's healthy for me. Mom says that I have to tell Tyler to go away or else I won't get any ice cream. I tell Tyler when Mom leaves my room. He drops to the floor. He lies very still. I look at his body and begin to cry. Tyler begins to laugh. For that brief moment I was worried about losing Tyler. I lied to Mom and told her that he had gone and I got ice cream. I shared it with Tyler. Tyler finally went when I was seven. It was all so long ago I understand why I never remembered when I saw Tyler on that beach building the shadow hand. The memory also helped me remember how cunning Tyler was.
"Tyler, I know you're not really dying. You tried this trick when I was five, It worked then, but it's not gonna work now."
Tyler opened eyes and stuck his tongue back in his mouth. He stood up, said "fuck" and like that he was gone. No poof of smoke. No cries of vengeance. Nothing. Just gone. However, something in the back of my head that Tyler was gonna come back. He hadn't finished. Tyler's new enemy was no longer capitalist pigs. It was me. However, at that moment I didn't care. I had a long bubble bath and went shopping.
The next chapter should be sometime soon.
