بخش 07

: باشگاه مشت زنی / فصل 7

باشگاه مشت زنی

10 فصل

بخش 07

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دانلود اپلیکیشن «زوم»

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متن انگلیسی فصل

  • There’s a Fight Club up in Delaware City.
  • Yeah, I heard.

There’s one in Penns Grove too. Bob even found one up in New Castle.

  • Did you start that one?
  • No, I thought you did.

No.

  • Stop for a second.
  • Hey, what are we doing?

  • Turn around.
  • What are we doing?

  • Homework assignment.
  • What kind?

Human sacrifice.

  • Is that a gun? Please tell me it’s not.
  • It’s a gun.

  • What are you doing?
  • Meet me in the back.

  • Don’t fuck around!
  • Meet me in the back.

On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero. What are you doing? Come on! Hands behind your back. Give me your wallet. Raymond K Hessel. 1320 SE Banning, Apartment A.

  • Small, cramped basement apartment?
  • How did you know?

They give shitty apartments letters. Raymond! You’re going to die. No! Is that your mom and dad? They’re gonna have to call the kindly doctor. Pick up your dental records. Know why?

  • There’ll be nothing left of your face.
  • Oh, come on!

An expired community college student ID. What did you study, Raymond?

  • S… S… Stuff.
  • Stuff?

Were the midterms hard?

  • I asked you what you studied!
  • Biology, mostly.

  • Why?
  • I don’t know.

What did you wanna be, Raymond K Hessel?! The question, Raymond, was what did you want to be? Answer him, Raymond, Jesus!

  • Veterinarian. Veterinarian.
  • Animals.

  • Yeah. Animals and stuff.
  • Stuff. Yeah, I got that.

  • So you need more schooling.
  • Too much school.

  • Would you rather be dead?
  • No, please…

You’d rather die here, on your knees, in the back of a convenience store? Please, no. I’m keeping your license. Gonna check in on you. I know where you live. If you’re not working to be a veterinarian in six weeks, you will be dead. Now run on home. Run, Forrest, run! I feel ill.

Imagine how he feels. Come on, this isn’t funny!

What the fuck was the point of that?! Tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of Raymond K Hessel’s life.

His breakfast will taste better than any meal you and I have ever tasted. You had to give it to him.

  • Come on.
  • 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. 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 are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world. What is… What is all this? What do you think? Hey, why do we need bunk beds?

Hey! Too young. Sorry. What’s all that? If the applicant is young, tell him he’s too young.

  • Old, too old. Fat, too fat.
  • Applicant?

If the applicant waits three days without food or shelter, he may enter and begin training. Training for what? You think this is a game? You’re too young to train here, end of story. Quit wasting our time. Get the fuck out of here. Bad news, friend. It’s not gonna happen. Sorry if there was a misunderstanding. It’s not the end of the world. Just… go away. Go. You’re trespassing and I will have to call the police. Don’t you look at me! You’re never getting in this fucking house! Never. Now get the fuck off my porch! Get off my porch! Sooner or later, we all became what Tyler wanted us to be. I’m gonna go inside and I’m gonna get a shovel.

  • Got two black shirts?
  • Yes, sir.

  • Two pair of black pants?
  • Yes, sir.

  • One pair black boots? Black socks?
  • Yes, sir.

  • One blackjacket.
  • Yes, sir.

  • $300 personal burial money?
  • Yes, sir.

All right. You’re too old, fat man. Your tits are too big. Get the fuck off my porch. Bob! Bob! Like a monkey ready to be shot into space. Space monkey. Ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good. You are too fucking old, fatty! And you… You’re too fucking blond!

Get out of here, the both of you! And so it went. Listen up, maggots. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. Tyler built himself an army. We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world. We are all part of the same compost heap. Why was Tyler Durden building an army? To what purpose? For what greater good? In Tyler we trusted. When he was like, “You are not yourjob”, I was like, “Yeah!” Hey, what’s all this? Hey!

OK!

  • What’s going on?
  • We’re celebrating.

  • What are we celebrating?
  • Go on.

  • Hey.
  • Let me get that for you.

The same great taste, Pepsi. Ssh! Investigators are here. The Police Commissioner has arrived. Could you tell us what you think has happened here? We believe this is one of many recent acts of vandalism in the city somehow related to underground boxing clubs. We will be coordinating a rigorous investigation. That was Police Commissioner Jacobs who just arrived on the scene

  • of a four-alarm fire that broke out…
  • She’s hot.

Back to you in the studio.

  • Yeah!
  • Yeah!

  • Holy shit!
  • Yeah!

What the fuck did you guys do? Arson investigators are on the premises… Sir, the first rule of Project Mayhem is you do not ask questions, sir. The victory in the war against crime will not come overnight. It will take dedication and commitment and, most of all, cooperation. Streets are safer now. There is hope in the inner city. However… I gotta take a piss. These are the first steps in a long journey. That is why we have created Project Hope. Bob. Project Hope will be ajoint effort between the police and community leaders.

It will be a powerful new weapon in the war against crime.

  • Wrap it around the top of his Hacky Sack.
  • His balls are ice cold.

Hi. You’re gonna call off your rigorous investigation. You will publicly state there is no underground group or these guys are gonna take your balls. They’ll send one to the New York Times and one to the LA Times.

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. Ball check!

Bob, you’re this way.

Let’s go.

I am Jack’s inflamed sense of rejection.

Hey!

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