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table. The mortician considers as he drains some yellowish green fluid from the table. He shrugs then continues his work... Alex considers as Clear eyes him, conveying "this guys's whacked!" Alex moves toward Bludworth... Mr. Bludworth looks directly at Alex. CAMERA MOVES IN ON EACH, INDIVIDUALLY... this between the two of them. Alex's eyes are locked on Bludworth's chilling, pleasant smile. The mortician yanks on a tube, REVEALING a foot long needle removed from Tod's spinal column. The horrific nature of death is vividly demonstrated to Alex. Alex grabs her arm, starting toward the door. Alex looks at Bludworth... CAMERA ADJUSTS as Alex and Clear step off the bus and onto the street. Clear starts up the street, but Alex grabs her arm and steps back, assuring the bus moves off... safely. He nods, "it's safe to go." Throughout the following, his eyes are searching for anything potentially deadly. Up ahead, scaffolds rise before a building being restored. O.S., HAMMERING and CONSTRUCTION WORK POUND from above. In the f.g., tools and metal spikes. After a "thumbs up" gesture, the rope is pulled UP AND OUT OF FRAME. As Clear takes a moment to consider, Alex steers them well around the scaffolds, eyes skyward during the move... This is a creepy fact. Even though past the construction, Alex checks over his shoulder to assure they are out of harm's way. Reaching an intersection, Alex pushes the pedestrian traffic light button, then steps well away from the curb. VROOM! A car indeed makes a right, TEARING through the intersection. Once past, Alex takes Clear by the arm and hustles them across the street. CAMERA HOLDS REVEALING an unmarked sedan parked across and down from a Starbucks with outdoor seating. Schreck and Weine sit in the car, eyes coolly locked on Alex and to listen. Terry, hot now, but with no idea what time will do to her in just five years, smiles obsequiously and mouths "shh." Mr. Murnau scans the group, his expression looking for an answer. Clear Rivers keeps her head in her book as... She doesn't react. Her expression remains cool as Murnau leads the procession forward. The boys continue. Alex sighs... A hand reaches out to gently detain Alex. He looks up to find a HARE KRISHANA, dressed in everyday clothes, but head shaved and a mark on his nose. CAMARA PUSHES IN ON ALEX... unsettled by the soft spoken, yet ominous, "Solicitation." The Krishana offers a small book, REALITY BEYOND THE MATTER: VAISHNAVA PHILOSOPHY. As he hands the book to Alex, a female form ENTERS FRAME between them. The women is MISS VALERIE LEWTON, 30, a feisty English teacher whose figure inspires all the boys' fantasies. She places a hand on Alex's shoulder, herding him to the group. Ms. Lewton turns and, while walking backward, flashes a smile... As she turns her back and continues down the terminal... O.S., LOUD, EXAGGERATED plastic tiles rapidly CLICK and CLACK. The CLACKING CONTINUES, demading Alex's attention. His eyes turn forward. Alex absently nods. Again, O.S., CLACK CLACK CLACK. His eyes move to... Alex quickly runs the day through his head and flashes her the REALITY BEYOND MATTER book. She smiles, then leans over toward the baggage scales. Alex's eyes turn toward... Alex is puzzeled by the comment. He shakes his head if, "pardon me?" CAMERA INCHES INTO the ticket clerk gesturing pleasantly to the passport and ticket... CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. Alex's eyes flash toward... Carter Horton and his girlfriend, Terry, take cuts in line with smug, bullying expressions. Unseen by the chaperones, no student, has the nerve to protest Carter's action. line... Tod subtly nods, reaching out to the memorial. Tod nods. The two friends stand uncomfortably foar a beat before Tod gestures to the podium. Tod holds his friend's arm for strength as he passes. Clear Rivers appears in line, holding a rose. She looks at the memorial, before her startling eyes turn to Alex. Even away from these circumstances, Alex would have trouble handling her intense maturity. As he begins to step away, she thrusts the rose to him. He looks up, puzzled. Alex takes the rose and she walks away. CAMERA PUSHES IN ON HIM as he eyes... feels... the red flower. As he speaks, the sunlight suddenly turns to shadow. Tod picks up a glass and swigs the remainder of his father's scotch before moving off and climbing the stairs. Alex studies his mountain of research, increasingly obsessed. An O.S. paper FLUTTER draws his attention to the newspaper being blown by the fan. He reaches out and grabs it. Headlines and photos report on the memorial service. CAMERA PUSHES IN as he sighs, troubled... Tod puts the lid down and UNSNAPS his jeans. As he turns, pulls his pants down and sits, CAMERA MOVES to the CURTAINS... still... until a cold soft breeze causes them to billow. CAMERA FOLLOWS the wind as it CONTINUES into the room, rippling across shower curtains. As the breeze passes Tod, he pauses... as if sensing, but not understanding... this is more than a wayward autumn breeze. He moves to close the window, however, CAMERA CONTINUES as the air makes ITS way to the door. The door is softly pushed closed by the breeze. As the toilet FLUSHES O.S., CAMERA NOW MOVES INTO the locking nut, which begins to slightly rattle. Drips of water stream from the tank onto the floor. Tod hand pointing directly at Alex. Alex raises his eyes and looks across the ceremony... Alex checks over his shoulder. CAMERA PUSHES INTO ALEX, feeling eyes upon them. He looks up... Two other students remove a cloth, unveiling a memorial sculpture etched with the names of the departed. The gathered stand and begin paying their respects to the memorial. Alex winces from Carter's breath... Carter and Alex lock eyes, Alex refraining from showing any pain caused by Carter's grip. Terry finally gets him to release. He moves off. Terry, however, holds a beat, eyes Alex and gently rubs the area of his arm, as if this is the only manner she can extend her gratitiude in Carter's presence. As Alex pats her arm, Terry quickly moves off. Shaken, Alex considers whether to move foward to the memorial. He steps aside to let the others go ahead as Billy Hitchcock, who has finished paying his respects, spots Alex and heads back up the line. Alex turns to him, increudlously.. Billy sighs, and moves OUT OF FRAME, only to quickly RE-ENTER... Alex flashes Billy an angry glare. He gets the message and moves off, for good. Alex returns in line, moving toward the memorial. Valerie Lewton places a rose at the base of the memorial then studies the engraved names as the students move past behind her. Alex approaches, watching her as she reaches out with a trembling finger, touching the etched names... Her eyes fill with tears and fear. Alex places a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she reacts quickly, pulling away from him, her eyes piercing at him. Alex is shattered as the teacher moves away. Tod ENTERS and faces the memorial. Alex notices Tod is in line behind him. Alex looks around for Tod's father. He is not in flowers, gold candelabra, plaster cherubs and angels. A bronze plaque identifies: "MT. ABRAHAM FUNERAL HOME. THE JOURNEY'S END. WILLIAM BLUDWORTH - INTERMEDIARY." With a hot, mischievous smile, Clear proceeds toward the hallway. Alex anxiously sighs... then follows. A faint light spills from beneath a doorway. Clear reaches out to the knob but Alex quickly grabs her hand. From a cart behind them, he pulls a latex glove out of a box and snaps it on. Alex tries the doorknob. Locked. He looks at her, defeated. Clear quickly points to some mortician's tools on the cart. From it, Alex produces a thin six inch needle. He inserted the tool in the lock and jimmies the doorknob. CLACK! As Alex and Clear approach... Suddenly, Tod jerks; his hand lifting four inches... He flashes a dry mortician's smile, pleased by his wan pun. Alex and Clear haven't recovered from the corspe's actions to calmly address Bludworth.. Alex completes his question by raising his hand, ala Tod's dead body. Bludworth nods, understanding... As the startle of the situation settles, it dawns on Alex that they have been busted. He nervously offers an explanation. Clear moves in for a closer look, then calls Alex over to the body. After a beat of reluctance, Alex looks at Tod's neck. Because of the supernatural "message" he recieved, Alex is reluctant to answer. He eyes Mr. Bludworth, who, with a wry half smile, eyes Alex as if aware of the reason behind his hesitation. CAMERA INCHES TOWARD the mortician. In this environment, lit with Fritz Lang shadows, Bludworth's tone, appearance... he could easily be mistaken for personification of the subject. Bludworth moves to Tod on the draining table, disconnecting the tubes connecting the body to the embalming chemicals. Vile liquid oozes out of the body onto the porcelain

Why does Alex think Death skipped Carter?

Because Alex intervened by saving Carter's life.

table. The mortician considers as he drains some yellowish green fluid from the table. He shrugs then continues his work... Alex considers as Clear eyes him, conveying "this guys's whacked!" Alex moves toward Bludworth... Mr. Bludworth looks directly at Alex. CAMERA MOVES IN ON EACH, INDIVIDUALLY... this between the two of them. Alex's eyes are locked on Bludworth's chilling, pleasant smile. The mortician yanks on a tube, REVEALING a foot long needle removed from Tod's spinal column. The horrific nature of death is vividly demonstrated to Alex. Alex grabs her arm, starting toward the door. Alex looks at Bludworth... CAMERA ADJUSTS as Alex and Clear step off the bus and onto the street. Clear starts up the street, but Alex grabs her arm and steps back, assuring the bus moves off... safely. He nods, "it's safe to go." Throughout the following, his eyes are searching for anything potentially deadly. Up ahead, scaffolds rise before a building being restored. O.S., HAMMERING and CONSTRUCTION WORK POUND from above. In the f.g., tools and metal spikes. After a "thumbs up" gesture, the rope is pulled UP AND OUT OF FRAME. As Clear takes a moment to consider, Alex steers them well around the scaffolds, eyes skyward during the move... This is a creepy fact. Even though past the construction, Alex checks over his shoulder to assure they are out of harm's way. Reaching an intersection, Alex pushes the pedestrian traffic light button, then steps well away from the curb. VROOM! A car indeed makes a right, TEARING through the intersection. Once past, Alex takes Clear by the arm and hustles them across the street. CAMERA HOLDS REVEALING an unmarked sedan parked across and down from a Starbucks with outdoor seating. Schreck and Weine sit in the car, eyes coolly locked on Alex and line... Tod subtly nods, reaching out to the memorial. Tod nods. The two friends stand uncomfortably foar a beat before Tod gestures to the podium. Tod holds his friend's arm for strength as he passes. Clear Rivers appears in line, holding a rose. She looks at the memorial, before her startling eyes turn to Alex. Even away from these circumstances, Alex would have trouble handling her intense maturity. As he begins to step away, she thrusts the rose to him. He looks up, puzzled. Alex takes the rose and she walks away. CAMERA PUSHES IN ON HIM as he eyes... feels... the red flower. As he speaks, the sunlight suddenly turns to shadow. Tod picks up a glass and swigs the remainder of his father's scotch before moving off and climbing the stairs. Alex studies his mountain of research, increasingly obsessed. An O.S. paper FLUTTER draws his attention to the newspaper being blown by the fan. He reaches out and grabs it. Headlines and photos report on the memorial service. CAMERA PUSHES IN as he sighs, troubled... Tod puts the lid down and UNSNAPS his jeans. As he turns, pulls his pants down and sits, CAMERA MOVES to the CURTAINS... still... until a cold soft breeze causes them to billow. CAMERA FOLLOWS the wind as it CONTINUES into the room, rippling across shower curtains. As the breeze passes Tod, he pauses... as if sensing, but not understanding... this is more than a wayward autumn breeze. He moves to close the window, however, CAMERA CONTINUES as the air makes ITS way to the door. The door is softly pushed closed by the breeze. As the toilet FLUSHES O.S., CAMERA NOW MOVES INTO the locking nut, which begins to slightly rattle. Drips of water stream from the tank onto the floor. Tod to listen. Terry, hot now, but with no idea what time will do to her in just five years, smiles obsequiously and mouths "shh." Mr. Murnau scans the group, his expression looking for an answer. Clear Rivers keeps her head in her book as... She doesn't react. Her expression remains cool as Murnau leads the procession forward. The boys continue. Alex sighs... A hand reaches out to gently detain Alex. He looks up to find a HARE KRISHANA, dressed in everyday clothes, but head shaved and a mark on his nose. CAMARA PUSHES IN ON ALEX... unsettled by the soft spoken, yet ominous, "Solicitation." The Krishana offers a small book, REALITY BEYOND THE MATTER: VAISHNAVA PHILOSOPHY. As he hands the book to Alex, a female form ENTERS FRAME between them. The women is MISS VALERIE LEWTON, 30, a feisty English teacher whose figure inspires all the boys' fantasies. She places a hand on Alex's shoulder, herding him to the group. Ms. Lewton turns and, while walking backward, flashes a smile... As she turns her back and continues down the terminal... O.S., LOUD, EXAGGERATED plastic tiles rapidly CLICK and CLACK. The CLACKING CONTINUES, demading Alex's attention. His eyes turn forward. Alex absently nods. Again, O.S., CLACK CLACK CLACK. His eyes move to... Alex quickly runs the day through his head and flashes her the REALITY BEYOND MATTER book. She smiles, then leans over toward the baggage scales. Alex's eyes turn toward... Alex is puzzeled by the comment. He shakes his head if, "pardon me?" CAMERA INCHES INTO the ticket clerk gesturing pleasantly to the passport and ticket... CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. Alex's eyes flash toward... Carter Horton and his girlfriend, Terry, take cuts in line with smug, bullying expressions. Unseen by the chaperones, no student, has the nerve to protest Carter's action. flowers, gold candelabra, plaster cherubs and angels. A bronze plaque identifies: "MT. ABRAHAM FUNERAL HOME. THE JOURNEY'S END. WILLIAM BLUDWORTH - INTERMEDIARY." With a hot, mischievous smile, Clear proceeds toward the hallway. Alex anxiously sighs... then follows. A faint light spills from beneath a doorway. Clear reaches out to the knob but Alex quickly grabs her hand. From a cart behind them, he pulls a latex glove out of a box and snaps it on. Alex tries the doorknob. Locked. He looks at her, defeated. Clear quickly points to some mortician's tools on the cart. From it, Alex produces a thin six inch needle. He inserted the tool in the lock and jimmies the doorknob. CLACK! As Alex and Clear approach... Suddenly, Tod jerks; his hand lifting four inches... He flashes a dry mortician's smile, pleased by his wan pun. Alex and Clear haven't recovered from the corspe's actions to calmly address Bludworth.. Alex completes his question by raising his hand, ala Tod's dead body. Bludworth nods, understanding... As the startle of the situation settles, it dawns on Alex that they have been busted. He nervously offers an explanation. Clear moves in for a closer look, then calls Alex over to the body. After a beat of reluctance, Alex looks at Tod's neck. Because of the supernatural "message" he recieved, Alex is reluctant to answer. He eyes Mr. Bludworth, who, with a wry half smile, eyes Alex as if aware of the reason behind his hesitation. CAMERA INCHES TOWARD the mortician. In this environment, lit with Fritz Lang shadows, Bludworth's tone, appearance... he could easily be mistaken for personification of the subject. Bludworth moves to Tod on the draining table, disconnecting the tubes connecting the body to the embalming chemicals. Vile liquid oozes out of the body onto the porcelain Fighting Colonials pennant begins to flutter slightly, as if affected by the moving breeze. The path of which is continued toward the bed, rustling the sheets, subtly blowing Alex's hair and continuing OVER CAMERA. Even in his sleep, Alex shivers from the passing cold. His eyes open surprised to be suddenly awakened. He considers for a beat, then looks toward... CAMERA ADJUSTS FROM the "Arrival-Departure Schedule" to REVEAL forty high school KIDS, four TEACHERS and several PARENTS are gathered inside the International terminal at J.F.K. Several of the students wear Fighting Colonial leterman's jackets or hats and shirts displaying "Mt. Abraham High, New York." Alex gathers his bags, as does his best friend TOD WAGGNER and his older brother GEORGE WAGGNER, standing before their father, JERRY WAGGNER. For Alex, any psychic tension from the night before seems forgotten in the fun and excitement of the trip. MR. MURNAU, the French teacher (any further description necessary?) and leader of the class trip waves his arm. Tod shrugs, "I guess" as he moves to his father and gives him a warm hug goodbye. Mr. Waggner then gives his older son a hug. Tod and George gives a wave, as does Alex, who is slapped on the back by Mr. Waggner. The group begins down the airport toward the check-in counter. In the f.g., before the boys, strides a girl, CLEAR RIVERS, 17, reading the TROPIC OF CANCER. The loner in the group, Clear wears dark colors against the insecerity of her sex appeal. She appears aloof and more wordly then the other students. Readying his ticket and documents, Tod flips open his passport, checking out his photo. Mr. Murnau stops the group. Excited, he cups an ear with one hand while raising a finger toward the public address system. Everyone begrudgingly stops

Who were the three people alive at the end of the story?

Alex, Clear and Carter

to listen. Terry, hot now, but with no idea what time will do to her in just five years, smiles obsequiously and mouths "shh." Mr. Murnau scans the group, his expression looking for an answer. Clear Rivers keeps her head in her book as... She doesn't react. Her expression remains cool as Murnau leads the procession forward. The boys continue. Alex sighs... A hand reaches out to gently detain Alex. He looks up to find a HARE KRISHANA, dressed in everyday clothes, but head shaved and a mark on his nose. CAMARA PUSHES IN ON ALEX... unsettled by the soft spoken, yet ominous, "Solicitation." The Krishana offers a small book, REALITY BEYOND THE MATTER: VAISHNAVA PHILOSOPHY. As he hands the book to Alex, a female form ENTERS FRAME between them. The women is MISS VALERIE LEWTON, 30, a feisty English teacher whose figure inspires all the boys' fantasies. She places a hand on Alex's shoulder, herding him to the group. Ms. Lewton turns and, while walking backward, flashes a smile... As she turns her back and continues down the terminal... O.S., LOUD, EXAGGERATED plastic tiles rapidly CLICK and CLACK. The CLACKING CONTINUES, demading Alex's attention. His eyes turn forward. Alex absently nods. Again, O.S., CLACK CLACK CLACK. His eyes move to... Alex quickly runs the day through his head and flashes her the REALITY BEYOND MATTER book. She smiles, then leans over toward the baggage scales. Alex's eyes turn toward... Alex is puzzeled by the comment. He shakes his head if, "pardon me?" CAMERA INCHES INTO the ticket clerk gesturing pleasantly to the passport and ticket... CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. Alex's eyes flash toward... Carter Horton and his girlfriend, Terry, take cuts in line with smug, bullying expressions. Unseen by the chaperones, no student, has the nerve to protest Carter's action. table. The mortician considers as he drains some yellowish green fluid from the table. He shrugs then continues his work... Alex considers as Clear eyes him, conveying "this guys's whacked!" Alex moves toward Bludworth... Mr. Bludworth looks directly at Alex. CAMERA MOVES IN ON EACH, INDIVIDUALLY... this between the two of them. Alex's eyes are locked on Bludworth's chilling, pleasant smile. The mortician yanks on a tube, REVEALING a foot long needle removed from Tod's spinal column. The horrific nature of death is vividly demonstrated to Alex. Alex grabs her arm, starting toward the door. Alex looks at Bludworth... CAMERA ADJUSTS as Alex and Clear step off the bus and onto the street. Clear starts up the street, but Alex grabs her arm and steps back, assuring the bus moves off... safely. He nods, "it's safe to go." Throughout the following, his eyes are searching for anything potentially deadly. Up ahead, scaffolds rise before a building being restored. O.S., HAMMERING and CONSTRUCTION WORK POUND from above. In the f.g., tools and metal spikes. After a "thumbs up" gesture, the rope is pulled UP AND OUT OF FRAME. As Clear takes a moment to consider, Alex steers them well around the scaffolds, eyes skyward during the move... This is a creepy fact. Even though past the construction, Alex checks over his shoulder to assure they are out of harm's way. Reaching an intersection, Alex pushes the pedestrian traffic light button, then steps well away from the curb. VROOM! A car indeed makes a right, TEARING through the intersection. Once past, Alex takes Clear by the arm and hustles them across the street. CAMERA HOLDS REVEALING an unmarked sedan parked across and down from a Starbucks with outdoor seating. Schreck and Weine sit in the car, eyes coolly locked on Alex and line... Tod subtly nods, reaching out to the memorial. Tod nods. The two friends stand uncomfortably foar a beat before Tod gestures to the podium. Tod holds his friend's arm for strength as he passes. Clear Rivers appears in line, holding a rose. She looks at the memorial, before her startling eyes turn to Alex. Even away from these circumstances, Alex would have trouble handling her intense maturity. As he begins to step away, she thrusts the rose to him. He looks up, puzzled. Alex takes the rose and she walks away. CAMERA PUSHES IN ON HIM as he eyes... feels... the red flower. As he speaks, the sunlight suddenly turns to shadow. Tod picks up a glass and swigs the remainder of his father's scotch before moving off and climbing the stairs. Alex studies his mountain of research, increasingly obsessed. An O.S. paper FLUTTER draws his attention to the newspaper being blown by the fan. He reaches out and grabs it. Headlines and photos report on the memorial service. CAMERA PUSHES IN as he sighs, troubled... Tod puts the lid down and UNSNAPS his jeans. As he turns, pulls his pants down and sits, CAMERA MOVES to the CURTAINS... still... until a cold soft breeze causes them to billow. CAMERA FOLLOWS the wind as it CONTINUES into the room, rippling across shower curtains. As the breeze passes Tod, he pauses... as if sensing, but not understanding... this is more than a wayward autumn breeze. He moves to close the window, however, CAMERA CONTINUES as the air makes ITS way to the door. The door is softly pushed closed by the breeze. As the toilet FLUSHES O.S., CAMERA NOW MOVES INTO the locking nut, which begins to slightly rattle. Drips of water stream from the tank onto the floor. Tod By James Wong and Glen Morgan January 15, 1999 Awaiting......each of us; a cold...dark...lonely place. Deny its finality. Deride its totality. Dread the inescapable inevitability......it will arrive. The BLACK SILENT SCREEN senses this moment before a distant blues harp introduces a contemporary band's cover of Blood, Sweat, and Tears' campy, yet haunting, gospel, "And When I Die." "And When I Die" Continues throughout the MAIN TITLES: CAMERA CREEPS IN, teasingly on the dark faced corpse. The pages begin to turn once again. CAMERA ADJUSTS, to fully reveal Alex Browning as he turns toward the bedroom door. Alex is an average kid; handsome. A high school "everyman." One the wall amongst Yankee and Knicks posters, hangs a pennant; "Mt. Abraham High School, New York. The Fighting Colonials!" Alex's mother, BARBARA, 45, walks in, excited and a bit anxious. BARABRA (Cont'd) Tod and George's dad just called, he's picking you up at 10 in the morning. Bus leaves the high school for JFK at noon. Barbara moves towards the suitcase to help him pack. Alex's father, KEN BROWNING, 48 appears, leaning against the door threshold, smiling enviously at his son. Alex nods and buckles it. Barbara reaches in to tear off an airline baggage I.D. ticket attached from the previous flight. Barbara shakes her head as Alex smiles at his dad. KEN (Cont'd) Seventeen and on the loose. Ten days in Paris. In the springtime! Live it up, Alex... CAMERA INCHES INTO KEN as he winks at his son... KEN (Cont'd) Got your whole life ahead of you. As if itself a presence, CAMERA CREEPS across the dark and motionless room TOWARD Alex, sleeping soundly. CAMERA CRANES DOWN to the level of the bed until Alex is in the f.g. and the room is visible behind him. On the rear wall, the flowers, gold candelabra, plaster cherubs and angels. A bronze plaque identifies: "MT. ABRAHAM FUNERAL HOME. THE JOURNEY'S END. WILLIAM BLUDWORTH - INTERMEDIARY." With a hot, mischievous smile, Clear proceeds toward the hallway. Alex anxiously sighs... then follows. A faint light spills from beneath a doorway. Clear reaches out to the knob but Alex quickly grabs her hand. From a cart behind them, he pulls a latex glove out of a box and snaps it on. Alex tries the doorknob. Locked. He looks at her, defeated. Clear quickly points to some mortician's tools on the cart. From it, Alex produces a thin six inch needle. He inserted the tool in the lock and jimmies the doorknob. CLACK! As Alex and Clear approach... Suddenly, Tod jerks; his hand lifting four inches... He flashes a dry mortician's smile, pleased by his wan pun. Alex and Clear haven't recovered from the corspe's actions to calmly address Bludworth.. Alex completes his question by raising his hand, ala Tod's dead body. Bludworth nods, understanding... As the startle of the situation settles, it dawns on Alex that they have been busted. He nervously offers an explanation. Clear moves in for a closer look, then calls Alex over to the body. After a beat of reluctance, Alex looks at Tod's neck. Because of the supernatural "message" he recieved, Alex is reluctant to answer. He eyes Mr. Bludworth, who, with a wry half smile, eyes Alex as if aware of the reason behind his hesitation. CAMERA INCHES TOWARD the mortician. In this environment, lit with Fritz Lang shadows, Bludworth's tone, appearance... he could easily be mistaken for personification of the subject. Bludworth moves to Tod on the draining table, disconnecting the tubes connecting the body to the embalming chemicals. Vile liquid oozes out of the body onto the porcelain

Who was investigating the explosion and Alex's premonition?

The FBI.

to listen. Terry, hot now, but with no idea what time will do to her in just five years, smiles obsequiously and mouths "shh." Mr. Murnau scans the group, his expression looking for an answer. Clear Rivers keeps her head in her book as... She doesn't react. Her expression remains cool as Murnau leads the procession forward. The boys continue. Alex sighs... A hand reaches out to gently detain Alex. He looks up to find a HARE KRISHANA, dressed in everyday clothes, but head shaved and a mark on his nose. CAMARA PUSHES IN ON ALEX... unsettled by the soft spoken, yet ominous, "Solicitation." The Krishana offers a small book, REALITY BEYOND THE MATTER: VAISHNAVA PHILOSOPHY. As he hands the book to Alex, a female form ENTERS FRAME between them. The women is MISS VALERIE LEWTON, 30, a feisty English teacher whose figure inspires all the boys' fantasies. She places a hand on Alex's shoulder, herding him to the group. Ms. Lewton turns and, while walking backward, flashes a smile... As she turns her back and continues down the terminal... O.S., LOUD, EXAGGERATED plastic tiles rapidly CLICK and CLACK. The CLACKING CONTINUES, demading Alex's attention. His eyes turn forward. Alex absently nods. Again, O.S., CLACK CLACK CLACK. His eyes move to... Alex quickly runs the day through his head and flashes her the REALITY BEYOND MATTER book. She smiles, then leans over toward the baggage scales. Alex's eyes turn toward... Alex is puzzeled by the comment. He shakes his head if, "pardon me?" CAMERA INCHES INTO the ticket clerk gesturing pleasantly to the passport and ticket... CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. Alex's eyes flash toward... Carter Horton and his girlfriend, Terry, take cuts in line with smug, bullying expressions. Unseen by the chaperones, no student, has the nerve to protest Carter's action. flowers, gold candelabra, plaster cherubs and angels. A bronze plaque identifies: "MT. ABRAHAM FUNERAL HOME. THE JOURNEY'S END. WILLIAM BLUDWORTH - INTERMEDIARY." With a hot, mischievous smile, Clear proceeds toward the hallway. Alex anxiously sighs... then follows. A faint light spills from beneath a doorway. Clear reaches out to the knob but Alex quickly grabs her hand. From a cart behind them, he pulls a latex glove out of a box and snaps it on. Alex tries the doorknob. Locked. He looks at her, defeated. Clear quickly points to some mortician's tools on the cart. From it, Alex produces a thin six inch needle. He inserted the tool in the lock and jimmies the doorknob. CLACK! As Alex and Clear approach... Suddenly, Tod jerks; his hand lifting four inches... He flashes a dry mortician's smile, pleased by his wan pun. Alex and Clear haven't recovered from the corspe's actions to calmly address Bludworth.. Alex completes his question by raising his hand, ala Tod's dead body. Bludworth nods, understanding... As the startle of the situation settles, it dawns on Alex that they have been busted. He nervously offers an explanation. Clear moves in for a closer look, then calls Alex over to the body. After a beat of reluctance, Alex looks at Tod's neck. Because of the supernatural "message" he recieved, Alex is reluctant to answer. He eyes Mr. Bludworth, who, with a wry half smile, eyes Alex as if aware of the reason behind his hesitation. CAMERA INCHES TOWARD the mortician. In this environment, lit with Fritz Lang shadows, Bludworth's tone, appearance... he could easily be mistaken for personification of the subject. Bludworth moves to Tod on the draining table, disconnecting the tubes connecting the body to the embalming chemicals. Vile liquid oozes out of the body onto the porcelain table. The mortician considers as he drains some yellowish green fluid from the table. He shrugs then continues his work... Alex considers as Clear eyes him, conveying "this guys's whacked!" Alex moves toward Bludworth... Mr. Bludworth looks directly at Alex. CAMERA MOVES IN ON EACH, INDIVIDUALLY... this between the two of them. Alex's eyes are locked on Bludworth's chilling, pleasant smile. The mortician yanks on a tube, REVEALING a foot long needle removed from Tod's spinal column. The horrific nature of death is vividly demonstrated to Alex. Alex grabs her arm, starting toward the door. Alex looks at Bludworth... CAMERA ADJUSTS as Alex and Clear step off the bus and onto the street. Clear starts up the street, but Alex grabs her arm and steps back, assuring the bus moves off... safely. He nods, "it's safe to go." Throughout the following, his eyes are searching for anything potentially deadly. Up ahead, scaffolds rise before a building being restored. O.S., HAMMERING and CONSTRUCTION WORK POUND from above. In the f.g., tools and metal spikes. After a "thumbs up" gesture, the rope is pulled UP AND OUT OF FRAME. As Clear takes a moment to consider, Alex steers them well around the scaffolds, eyes skyward during the move... This is a creepy fact. Even though past the construction, Alex checks over his shoulder to assure they are out of harm's way. Reaching an intersection, Alex pushes the pedestrian traffic light button, then steps well away from the curb. VROOM! A car indeed makes a right, TEARING through the intersection. Once past, Alex takes Clear by the arm and hustles them across the street. CAMERA HOLDS REVEALING an unmarked sedan parked across and down from a Starbucks with outdoor seating. Schreck and Weine sit in the car, eyes coolly locked on Alex and By James Wong and Glen Morgan January 15, 1999 Awaiting......each of us; a cold...dark...lonely place. Deny its finality. Deride its totality. Dread the inescapable inevitability......it will arrive. The BLACK SILENT SCREEN senses this moment before a distant blues harp introduces a contemporary band's cover of Blood, Sweat, and Tears' campy, yet haunting, gospel, "And When I Die." "And When I Die" Continues throughout the MAIN TITLES: CAMERA CREEPS IN, teasingly on the dark faced corpse. The pages begin to turn once again. CAMERA ADJUSTS, to fully reveal Alex Browning as he turns toward the bedroom door. Alex is an average kid; handsome. A high school "everyman." One the wall amongst Yankee and Knicks posters, hangs a pennant; "Mt. Abraham High School, New York. The Fighting Colonials!" Alex's mother, BARBARA, 45, walks in, excited and a bit anxious. BARABRA (Cont'd) Tod and George's dad just called, he's picking you up at 10 in the morning. Bus leaves the high school for JFK at noon. Barbara moves towards the suitcase to help him pack. Alex's father, KEN BROWNING, 48 appears, leaning against the door threshold, smiling enviously at his son. Alex nods and buckles it. Barbara reaches in to tear off an airline baggage I.D. ticket attached from the previous flight. Barbara shakes her head as Alex smiles at his dad. KEN (Cont'd) Seventeen and on the loose. Ten days in Paris. In the springtime! Live it up, Alex... CAMERA INCHES INTO KEN as he winks at his son... KEN (Cont'd) Got your whole life ahead of you. As if itself a presence, CAMERA CREEPS across the dark and motionless room TOWARD Alex, sleeping soundly. CAMERA CRANES DOWN to the level of the bed until Alex is in the f.g. and the room is visible behind him. On the rear wall, the Alex, Tod, George and BILLY HITCHCOCK, heavyset with a New York Rangers jersey watches Carter and Terry with disgust. Excited, Tod speaks in a convert tone over Alex's shoulder. Alex looks up ahead of the metal detectors... As Alex and Tod pass through the metal detector, their eyes performing reconnaissance on Christa and Blake, the opening drum BLASTS of Boingo's "No One Lives Forever" OVERLAPS... CAMERA MOVES ALONG the awaiting passengers... Carter and Terry are making out, a step away from heavy petting... Blake and Christa are flipping through Parisian fashion magizines... Billy Hitchcock lays into a Burrito Supreme... CAMERA MOVES to an empty seat. Clear Rivers ENTERS FRAME and sits, struggling with her Walkman, coffee, books, and a cassette box handmarked "Boingo" (a cheat that We hear the song) As she places her stuff on the unoccupied seat beside her, a Paris guidebook falls on the floor, opened but face down. A passing, unidentified, student reaches down and hands her the book, still open and face down. The student continues down toward the observation deck. Clear looks at the opened guidebook. He stands at the gate window, looking out at the plane. CAMERA CREEPS AWAY from the plane... huge, seemingly incapable of flight and yet we unquestioningly trust our lives in this machine. Emotionless. Cold. Lifeless, and yet soon full of life. Alex takes a beat to consider... A P.A. ANNOUNCMENT breaks into the song... Really for the first time, Alex appears a bit tentative and pale. It is intensified by the return of the song... Tod nudges Alex toward the tunnel, the three boys start down the ramp, passing Mr. Murnau who checks his list, counting heads... CAMERA ADJUSTS, LEADING George, Alex and Tod through the aisles. Alex and Tod wince at the screaming child. George, however feels

Who was the only person that believed Alex's premonition before the plane exploded?

Clear Rivers.

line... Tod subtly nods, reaching out to the memorial. Tod nods. The two friends stand uncomfortably foar a beat before Tod gestures to the podium. Tod holds his friend's arm for strength as he passes. Clear Rivers appears in line, holding a rose. She looks at the memorial, before her startling eyes turn to Alex. Even away from these circumstances, Alex would have trouble handling her intense maturity. As he begins to step away, she thrusts the rose to him. He looks up, puzzled. Alex takes the rose and she walks away. CAMERA PUSHES IN ON HIM as he eyes... feels... the red flower. As he speaks, the sunlight suddenly turns to shadow. Tod picks up a glass and swigs the remainder of his father's scotch before moving off and climbing the stairs. Alex studies his mountain of research, increasingly obsessed. An O.S. paper FLUTTER draws his attention to the newspaper being blown by the fan. He reaches out and grabs it. Headlines and photos report on the memorial service. CAMERA PUSHES IN as he sighs, troubled... Tod puts the lid down and UNSNAPS his jeans. As he turns, pulls his pants down and sits, CAMERA MOVES to the CURTAINS... still... until a cold soft breeze causes them to billow. CAMERA FOLLOWS the wind as it CONTINUES into the room, rippling across shower curtains. As the breeze passes Tod, he pauses... as if sensing, but not understanding... this is more than a wayward autumn breeze. He moves to close the window, however, CAMERA CONTINUES as the air makes ITS way to the door. The door is softly pushed closed by the breeze. As the toilet FLUSHES O.S., CAMERA NOW MOVES INTO the locking nut, which begins to slightly rattle. Drips of water stream from the tank onto the floor. Tod table. The mortician considers as he drains some yellowish green fluid from the table. He shrugs then continues his work... Alex considers as Clear eyes him, conveying "this guys's whacked!" Alex moves toward Bludworth... Mr. Bludworth looks directly at Alex. CAMERA MOVES IN ON EACH, INDIVIDUALLY... this between the two of them. Alex's eyes are locked on Bludworth's chilling, pleasant smile. The mortician yanks on a tube, REVEALING a foot long needle removed from Tod's spinal column. The horrific nature of death is vividly demonstrated to Alex. Alex grabs her arm, starting toward the door. Alex looks at Bludworth... CAMERA ADJUSTS as Alex and Clear step off the bus and onto the street. Clear starts up the street, but Alex grabs her arm and steps back, assuring the bus moves off... safely. He nods, "it's safe to go." Throughout the following, his eyes are searching for anything potentially deadly. Up ahead, scaffolds rise before a building being restored. O.S., HAMMERING and CONSTRUCTION WORK POUND from above. In the f.g., tools and metal spikes. After a "thumbs up" gesture, the rope is pulled UP AND OUT OF FRAME. As Clear takes a moment to consider, Alex steers them well around the scaffolds, eyes skyward during the move... This is a creepy fact. Even though past the construction, Alex checks over his shoulder to assure they are out of harm's way. Reaching an intersection, Alex pushes the pedestrian traffic light button, then steps well away from the curb. VROOM! A car indeed makes a right, TEARING through the intersection. Once past, Alex takes Clear by the arm and hustles them across the street. CAMERA HOLDS REVEALING an unmarked sedan parked across and down from a Starbucks with outdoor seating. Schreck and Weine sit in the car, eyes coolly locked on Alex and to listen. Terry, hot now, but with no idea what time will do to her in just five years, smiles obsequiously and mouths "shh." Mr. Murnau scans the group, his expression looking for an answer. Clear Rivers keeps her head in her book as... She doesn't react. Her expression remains cool as Murnau leads the procession forward. The boys continue. Alex sighs... A hand reaches out to gently detain Alex. He looks up to find a HARE KRISHANA, dressed in everyday clothes, but head shaved and a mark on his nose. CAMARA PUSHES IN ON ALEX... unsettled by the soft spoken, yet ominous, "Solicitation." The Krishana offers a small book, REALITY BEYOND THE MATTER: VAISHNAVA PHILOSOPHY. As he hands the book to Alex, a female form ENTERS FRAME between them. The women is MISS VALERIE LEWTON, 30, a feisty English teacher whose figure inspires all the boys' fantasies. She places a hand on Alex's shoulder, herding him to the group. Ms. Lewton turns and, while walking backward, flashes a smile... As she turns her back and continues down the terminal... O.S., LOUD, EXAGGERATED plastic tiles rapidly CLICK and CLACK. The CLACKING CONTINUES, demading Alex's attention. His eyes turn forward. Alex absently nods. Again, O.S., CLACK CLACK CLACK. His eyes move to... Alex quickly runs the day through his head and flashes her the REALITY BEYOND MATTER book. She smiles, then leans over toward the baggage scales. Alex's eyes turn toward... Alex is puzzeled by the comment. He shakes his head if, "pardon me?" CAMERA INCHES INTO the ticket clerk gesturing pleasantly to the passport and ticket... CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. Alex's eyes flash toward... Carter Horton and his girlfriend, Terry, take cuts in line with smug, bullying expressions. Unseen by the chaperones, no student, has the nerve to protest Carter's action. hand pointing directly at Alex. Alex raises his eyes and looks across the ceremony... Alex checks over his shoulder. CAMERA PUSHES INTO ALEX, feeling eyes upon them. He looks up... Two other students remove a cloth, unveiling a memorial sculpture etched with the names of the departed. The gathered stand and begin paying their respects to the memorial. Alex winces from Carter's breath... Carter and Alex lock eyes, Alex refraining from showing any pain caused by Carter's grip. Terry finally gets him to release. He moves off. Terry, however, holds a beat, eyes Alex and gently rubs the area of his arm, as if this is the only manner she can extend her gratitiude in Carter's presence. As Alex pats her arm, Terry quickly moves off. Shaken, Alex considers whether to move foward to the memorial. He steps aside to let the others go ahead as Billy Hitchcock, who has finished paying his respects, spots Alex and heads back up the line. Alex turns to him, increudlously.. Billy sighs, and moves OUT OF FRAME, only to quickly RE-ENTER... Alex flashes Billy an angry glare. He gets the message and moves off, for good. Alex returns in line, moving toward the memorial. Valerie Lewton places a rose at the base of the memorial then studies the engraved names as the students move past behind her. Alex approaches, watching her as she reaches out with a trembling finger, touching the etched names... Her eyes fill with tears and fear. Alex places a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she reacts quickly, pulling away from him, her eyes piercing at him. Alex is shattered as the teacher moves away. Tod ENTERS and faces the memorial. Alex notices Tod is in line behind him. Alex looks around for Tod's father. He is not in flowers, gold candelabra, plaster cherubs and angels. A bronze plaque identifies: "MT. ABRAHAM FUNERAL HOME. THE JOURNEY'S END. WILLIAM BLUDWORTH - INTERMEDIARY." With a hot, mischievous smile, Clear proceeds toward the hallway. Alex anxiously sighs... then follows. A faint light spills from beneath a doorway. Clear reaches out to the knob but Alex quickly grabs her hand. From a cart behind them, he pulls a latex glove out of a box and snaps it on. Alex tries the doorknob. Locked. He looks at her, defeated. Clear quickly points to some mortician's tools on the cart. From it, Alex produces a thin six inch needle. He inserted the tool in the lock and jimmies the doorknob. CLACK! As Alex and Clear approach... Suddenly, Tod jerks; his hand lifting four inches... He flashes a dry mortician's smile, pleased by his wan pun. Alex and Clear haven't recovered from the corspe's actions to calmly address Bludworth.. Alex completes his question by raising his hand, ala Tod's dead body. Bludworth nods, understanding... As the startle of the situation settles, it dawns on Alex that they have been busted. He nervously offers an explanation. Clear moves in for a closer look, then calls Alex over to the body. After a beat of reluctance, Alex looks at Tod's neck. Because of the supernatural "message" he recieved, Alex is reluctant to answer. He eyes Mr. Bludworth, who, with a wry half smile, eyes Alex as if aware of the reason behind his hesitation. CAMERA INCHES TOWARD the mortician. In this environment, lit with Fritz Lang shadows, Bludworth's tone, appearance... he could easily be mistaken for personification of the subject. Bludworth moves to Tod on the draining table, disconnecting the tubes connecting the body to the embalming chemicals. Vile liquid oozes out of the body onto the porcelain

Whose death was considered a suicide?

Tod's

to listen. Terry, hot now, but with no idea what time will do to her in just five years, smiles obsequiously and mouths "shh." Mr. Murnau scans the group, his expression looking for an answer. Clear Rivers keeps her head in her book as... She doesn't react. Her expression remains cool as Murnau leads the procession forward. The boys continue. Alex sighs... A hand reaches out to gently detain Alex. He looks up to find a HARE KRISHANA, dressed in everyday clothes, but head shaved and a mark on his nose. CAMARA PUSHES IN ON ALEX... unsettled by the soft spoken, yet ominous, "Solicitation." The Krishana offers a small book, REALITY BEYOND THE MATTER: VAISHNAVA PHILOSOPHY. As he hands the book to Alex, a female form ENTERS FRAME between them. The women is MISS VALERIE LEWTON, 30, a feisty English teacher whose figure inspires all the boys' fantasies. She places a hand on Alex's shoulder, herding him to the group. Ms. Lewton turns and, while walking backward, flashes a smile... As she turns her back and continues down the terminal... O.S., LOUD, EXAGGERATED plastic tiles rapidly CLICK and CLACK. The CLACKING CONTINUES, demading Alex's attention. His eyes turn forward. Alex absently nods. Again, O.S., CLACK CLACK CLACK. His eyes move to... Alex quickly runs the day through his head and flashes her the REALITY BEYOND MATTER book. She smiles, then leans over toward the baggage scales. Alex's eyes turn toward... Alex is puzzeled by the comment. He shakes his head if, "pardon me?" CAMERA INCHES INTO the ticket clerk gesturing pleasantly to the passport and ticket... CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. Alex's eyes flash toward... Carter Horton and his girlfriend, Terry, take cuts in line with smug, bullying expressions. Unseen by the chaperones, no student, has the nerve to protest Carter's action. table. The mortician considers as he drains some yellowish green fluid from the table. He shrugs then continues his work... Alex considers as Clear eyes him, conveying "this guys's whacked!" Alex moves toward Bludworth... Mr. Bludworth looks directly at Alex. CAMERA MOVES IN ON EACH, INDIVIDUALLY... this between the two of them. Alex's eyes are locked on Bludworth's chilling, pleasant smile. The mortician yanks on a tube, REVEALING a foot long needle removed from Tod's spinal column. The horrific nature of death is vividly demonstrated to Alex. Alex grabs her arm, starting toward the door. Alex looks at Bludworth... CAMERA ADJUSTS as Alex and Clear step off the bus and onto the street. Clear starts up the street, but Alex grabs her arm and steps back, assuring the bus moves off... safely. He nods, "it's safe to go." Throughout the following, his eyes are searching for anything potentially deadly. Up ahead, scaffolds rise before a building being restored. O.S., HAMMERING and CONSTRUCTION WORK POUND from above. In the f.g., tools and metal spikes. After a "thumbs up" gesture, the rope is pulled UP AND OUT OF FRAME. As Clear takes a moment to consider, Alex steers them well around the scaffolds, eyes skyward during the move... This is a creepy fact. Even though past the construction, Alex checks over his shoulder to assure they are out of harm's way. Reaching an intersection, Alex pushes the pedestrian traffic light button, then steps well away from the curb. VROOM! A car indeed makes a right, TEARING through the intersection. Once past, Alex takes Clear by the arm and hustles them across the street. CAMERA HOLDS REVEALING an unmarked sedan parked across and down from a Starbucks with outdoor seating. Schreck and Weine sit in the car, eyes coolly locked on Alex and Fighting Colonials pennant begins to flutter slightly, as if affected by the moving breeze. The path of which is continued toward the bed, rustling the sheets, subtly blowing Alex's hair and continuing OVER CAMERA. Even in his sleep, Alex shivers from the passing cold. His eyes open surprised to be suddenly awakened. He considers for a beat, then looks toward... CAMERA ADJUSTS FROM the "Arrival-Departure Schedule" to REVEAL forty high school KIDS, four TEACHERS and several PARENTS are gathered inside the International terminal at J.F.K. Several of the students wear Fighting Colonial leterman's jackets or hats and shirts displaying "Mt. Abraham High, New York." Alex gathers his bags, as does his best friend TOD WAGGNER and his older brother GEORGE WAGGNER, standing before their father, JERRY WAGGNER. For Alex, any psychic tension from the night before seems forgotten in the fun and excitement of the trip. MR. MURNAU, the French teacher (any further description necessary?) and leader of the class trip waves his arm. Tod shrugs, "I guess" as he moves to his father and gives him a warm hug goodbye. Mr. Waggner then gives his older son a hug. Tod and George gives a wave, as does Alex, who is slapped on the back by Mr. Waggner. The group begins down the airport toward the check-in counter. In the f.g., before the boys, strides a girl, CLEAR RIVERS, 17, reading the TROPIC OF CANCER. The loner in the group, Clear wears dark colors against the insecerity of her sex appeal. She appears aloof and more wordly then the other students. Readying his ticket and documents, Tod flips open his passport, checking out his photo. Mr. Murnau stops the group. Excited, he cups an ear with one hand while raising a finger toward the public address system. Everyone begrudgingly stops flowers, gold candelabra, plaster cherubs and angels. A bronze plaque identifies: "MT. ABRAHAM FUNERAL HOME. THE JOURNEY'S END. WILLIAM BLUDWORTH - INTERMEDIARY." With a hot, mischievous smile, Clear proceeds toward the hallway. Alex anxiously sighs... then follows. A faint light spills from beneath a doorway. Clear reaches out to the knob but Alex quickly grabs her hand. From a cart behind them, he pulls a latex glove out of a box and snaps it on. Alex tries the doorknob. Locked. He looks at her, defeated. Clear quickly points to some mortician's tools on the cart. From it, Alex produces a thin six inch needle. He inserted the tool in the lock and jimmies the doorknob. CLACK! As Alex and Clear approach... Suddenly, Tod jerks; his hand lifting four inches... He flashes a dry mortician's smile, pleased by his wan pun. Alex and Clear haven't recovered from the corspe's actions to calmly address Bludworth.. Alex completes his question by raising his hand, ala Tod's dead body. Bludworth nods, understanding... As the startle of the situation settles, it dawns on Alex that they have been busted. He nervously offers an explanation. Clear moves in for a closer look, then calls Alex over to the body. After a beat of reluctance, Alex looks at Tod's neck. Because of the supernatural "message" he recieved, Alex is reluctant to answer. He eyes Mr. Bludworth, who, with a wry half smile, eyes Alex as if aware of the reason behind his hesitation. CAMERA INCHES TOWARD the mortician. In this environment, lit with Fritz Lang shadows, Bludworth's tone, appearance... he could easily be mistaken for personification of the subject. Bludworth moves to Tod on the draining table, disconnecting the tubes connecting the body to the embalming chemicals. Vile liquid oozes out of the body onto the porcelain hand pointing directly at Alex. Alex raises his eyes and looks across the ceremony... Alex checks over his shoulder. CAMERA PUSHES INTO ALEX, feeling eyes upon them. He looks up... Two other students remove a cloth, unveiling a memorial sculpture etched with the names of the departed. The gathered stand and begin paying their respects to the memorial. Alex winces from Carter's breath... Carter and Alex lock eyes, Alex refraining from showing any pain caused by Carter's grip. Terry finally gets him to release. He moves off. Terry, however, holds a beat, eyes Alex and gently rubs the area of his arm, as if this is the only manner she can extend her gratitiude in Carter's presence. As Alex pats her arm, Terry quickly moves off. Shaken, Alex considers whether to move foward to the memorial. He steps aside to let the others go ahead as Billy Hitchcock, who has finished paying his respects, spots Alex and heads back up the line. Alex turns to him, increudlously.. Billy sighs, and moves OUT OF FRAME, only to quickly RE-ENTER... Alex flashes Billy an angry glare. He gets the message and moves off, for good. Alex returns in line, moving toward the memorial. Valerie Lewton places a rose at the base of the memorial then studies the engraved names as the students move past behind her. Alex approaches, watching her as she reaches out with a trembling finger, touching the etched names... Her eyes fill with tears and fear. Alex places a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she reacts quickly, pulling away from him, her eyes piercing at him. Alex is shattered as the teacher moves away. Tod ENTERS and faces the memorial. Alex notices Tod is in line behind him. Alex looks around for Tod's father. He is not in

Who survived the plane crash that was actually on the plane when it exploded?

There were no survivors on the plane.

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PENDLETON'S FOUR-IN-HAND By Gertrude Atherton Author of "The Conqueror," "The Splendid Idle Forties," etc. might at this moment be a professor of Sanskrit in some American college;" for that idea persisted after his return to the United States, where he entered Harvard for special study of the subject. But from the May evening when the story of the interesting man at Simla was first told in a club smoking-room overlooking Madison Square, Mr. Crawford's life has been one of hard literary work. He returned to Italy in 1883, spent most of the next year in Constantinople, where he was married to a daughter of General Berdan. From 1885 he has made his home in Sorrento, Italy, visiting America at intervals. "Mr. Isaacs," published in 1882, was followed almost at once by "Dr. Claudius." Then _The Atlantic Monthly_ claimed a serial, "A Roman Singer," in 1883. Since that time the list of his novels has been increased to thirty-two, besides the historical and descriptive works entitled "Ave Roma Immortalis" and "The Rulers of the South." To Mr. Crawford, the development of a story and of the character which suggested it, is the preëminent thing. As the critics say:-- "He is an artist, a born story-teller and colourist, imaginative and dramatic, virile and vivid." His wide range as a traveller has contributed doubtless to another characteristic quality:-- "... his strength in unexcelled portraits of odd characters and his magical skill in seeming to make his readers witnesses of the spectacles." His intimate knowledge of many countries has resulted in an unequalled series of brilliant romances, including varied characters from the old families of Rome, the glassblowers of Venice, the silversmiths of Rome, the cigarette makers of Munich, the court of old Madrid, the Turks of Stamboul and the Bosphorus, simple sailors on the coast of Spain, Americans of modern New York and Bar Harbor, to Crusaders and he said that some of the trees we saw were his. The fences were neat and well kept, and there was a fair-sized barn a little way from the cottage, and I saw some nice-looking cattle in the meadows; but it didn't look to me to be much of a farm, and I thought that before long Jack would have to leave his wife to take care of it, and go to sea again. But I said it was a nice farm, so as to seem pleasant, and as I don't know much about these things I dare say it was, all the same. I never saw it but that once. Jack told me that he and his brother had been born in the cottage, and that when their father and mother died they leased the land to Mamie's father, but had kept the cottage to live in when they came home from sea for a spell. It was as neat a little place as you would care to see: the floors as clean as the decks of a yacht, and the paint as fresh as a man-o'-war. Jack always was a good painter. There was a nice parlour on the ground floor, and Jack had papered it and had hung the walls with photographs of ships and foreign ports, and with things he had brought home from his voyages: a boomerang, a South Sea club, Japanese straw hats and a Gibraltar fan with a bull-fight on it, and all that sort of gear. It looked to me as if Miss Mamie had taken a hand in arranging it. There was a bran-new polished iron Franklin stove set into the old fireplace, and a red table-cloth from Alexandria, embroidered with those outlandish Egyptian letters. It was all as bright and fine brown hair, and a good figure. "This is Captain Torkeldsen," said Jack. "This is Miss Brewster, captain; and she is glad to see you." "Well, I am," said Miss Mamie, "for Jack has often talked to us about you, captain." She put out her hand, and took mine and shook it heartily, and I suppose I said something, but I know I didn't say much. The front door of the cottage looked toward the sea, and there was a straight path leading to the gate on the beach road. There was another path from the steps of the cottage that turned to the right, broad enough for two people to walk easily, and it led straight across the fields through gates to a larger house about a quarter of a mile away. That was where Mamie's mother lived, and the wedding was to be there. Jack asked me whether I would like to look round the farm before dinner, but I told him I didn't know much about farms. Then he said he just wanted to look round himself a bit, as he mightn't have much more chance that day; and he smiled, and Mamie laughed. "Show the captain the way to the house, Mamie," he said. "I'll be along in a minute." So Mamie and I began to walk along the path, and Jack went up toward the barn. "It was sweet of you to come, captain," Miss Mamie began, "for I have always wanted to see you." "Yes," I said, expecting something more. "You see, I always knew them both," she went on. "They used to take me out in a dory to catch codfish when I was a little girl, and I liked them both," she added thoughtfully. "Jack doesn't care to talk about his was always a plate more. It wasn't that he complained of that. Before poor Jim Benton was lost they had a man more to feed, and his gear to wash up after meals, and that was in the contract, the doctor said. It would have been if there were twenty in the ship's company; but he didn't think it was right for the men to play tricks like that. He kept his things in good order, and he counted them, and he was responsible for them, and it wasn't right that the men should take more things than they needed when his back was turned, and just soil them and mix them up with their own, so as to make him think-- He stopped there, and looked at me, and I looked at him. I didn't know what he thought, but I began to guess. I wasn't going to humour any such nonsense as that, so I told him to speak to the men himself, and not come bothering me about such things. "Count the plates and forks and spoons before them when they sit down to table, and tell them that's all they'll get; and when they have finished, count the things again, and if the count isn't right, find out who did it. You know it must be one of them. You're not a green hand; you've been going to sea ten or eleven years, and don't want any lesson about how to behave if the boys play a trick on you." "If I could catch him," said the cook, "I'd have a knife into him before he could say his prayers." Those West India men are always talking about knives, especially when they are badly frightened. I knew what he meant, and didn't ask him, but went

What year did Champagne disappear?

He disappeared in 1982.

were all beginning to wonder how long his grief for his dead brother was going to last like that. I watched him as he crouched down, and ran his hand into the hiding-place for the pipe. When he stood up, he had two pipes in his hand. Now, I remembered very well seeing him throw one of those pipes away, early in the morning after the gale; and it came to me now, and I didn't suppose he kept a stock of them under the anchor. I caught sight of his face, and it was greenish white, like the foam on shallow water, and he stood a long time looking at the two pipes. He wasn't looking to see which was his, for I wasn't five yards from him as he stood, and one of those pipes had been smoked that day, and was shiny where his hand had rubbed it, and the bone mouthpiece was chafed white where his teeth had bitten it. The other was water-logged. It was swelled and cracking with wet, and it looked to me as if there were a little green weed on it. Jack Benton turned his head rather stealthily as I looked away, and then he hid the thing in his trousers pocket, and went aft on the lee side, out of sight. The men had got the sheet pennant on a stretch to serve it, but I ducked under it and stood where I could see what Jack did, just under the fore-staysail. He couldn't see me, and he was looking about for something. His hand shook as he picked up a bit of half-bent iron rod, about a foot long, that had been used for turning an eye-bolt, and had been left on the main-hatch. His hand shook as he after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily will. Jack Benton was the last to go over the side, and he stood still a minute and looked at me, and his white face twitched. I thought he wanted to say something. "Take care of yourself, Jack," said I. "So long!" It seemed as if he couldn't speak for two or three seconds; then his words came thick. "It wasn't my fault, Mr. Torkeldsen. I swear it wasn't my fault!" That was all; and he dropped over the side, leaving me to wonder what he meant. The captain and I stayed on board, and the ship-chandler got a West India boy to cook for us. That evening, before turning in, we were standing by the rail having a quiet smoke, watching the lights of the city, a quarter of a mile off, reflected in the still water. There was music of some sort ashore, in a sailors' dance-house, I dare say; and I had no doubt that most of the men who had left the ship were there, and already full of jiggy-jiggy. The music played a lot of sailors' tunes that ran into each other, and we could hear the men's voices in the chorus now and then. One followed another, and then it was "Nancy Lee," loud and clear, and the men singing "Yo-ho, heave-ho!" "I have no ear for music," said Captain Hackstaff, "but it appears to me that's the tune that man was whistling the night we lost the man overboard. I don't know why it has stuck in my head, and of course it's all nonsense; but it seems to me that I have heard it all the rest of the trip." I didn't say anything to that, but I wondered just how much the old man had understood. Then we turned in, and were clearing up decks, he was swearing. He was a quiet man, and I hadn't heard him swear before, and I don't think I did again, though several queer things happened after that. Perhaps he said all he had to say then; I don't see how he could have said anything more. I used to think nobody could swear like a Dane, except a Neapolitan or a South American; but when I had heard the old man I changed my mind. There's nothing afloat or ashore that can beat one of your quiet American skippers, if he gets off on that tack. I didn't need to ask him what was the matter, for I knew he had heard "Nancy Lee," as I had, only it affected us differently. He did not give me the wheel, but told me to go forward and get the second bonnet off the staysail, so as to keep her up better. As we tailed on to the sheet when it was done, the man next me knocked his sou'wester off against my shoulder, and his face came so close to me that I could see it in the dark. It must have been very white for me to see it, but I only thought of that afterwards. I don't see how any light could have fallen upon it, but I knew it was one of the Benton boys. I don't know what made me speak to him. "Hullo, Jim! Is that you?" I asked. I don't know why I said Jim, rather than Jack. "I am Jack," he answered. We made all fast, and things were much quieter. "The old man heard you whistling 'Nancy Lee,' just now," I said, "and he didn't like it." It was as if there were a white light inside _Helen B. Jackson_. They had been on half a dozen ships since the _Boston Belle_, and they had grown up and were good seamen. They had reddish beards and bright blue eyes and freckled faces; and they were quiet fellows, good workmen on rigging, pretty willing, and both good men at the wheel. They managed to be in the same watch--it was the port watch on the _Helen B._, and that was mine, and I had great confidence in them both. If there was any job aloft that needed two hands, they were always the first to jump into the rigging; but that doesn't often happen on a fore-and-aft schooner. If it breezed up, and the jibtopsail was to be taken in, they never minded a wetting, and they would be out at the bowsprit end before there was a hand at the downhaul. The men liked them for that, and because they didn't blow about what they could do. I remember one day in a reefing job, the downhaul parted and came down on deck from the peak of the spanker. When the weather moderated, and we shook the reefs out, the downhaul was forgotten until we happened to think we might soon need it again. There was some sea on, and the boom was off and the gaff was slamming. One of those Benton boys was at the wheel, and before I knew what he was doing, the other was out on the gaff with the end of the new downhaul, trying to reeve it through its block. The one who was steering watched him, and got as white as cheese. The other one was swinging about on the gaff end, and every time she rolled to leeward he brought up with a jerk that would have sent

How long did the Coast Guard search for Champagne?

13 hours

as Fate; and all the time I saw the moonlight shining on his wet oilskins. He walked him through the gate, and across the beach road, and out upon the wet sand, where the tide was high. Then I got my breath with a gulp, and ran for them across the grass, and vaulted over the fence, and stumbled across the road. But when I felt the sand under my feet, the two were at the water's edge; and when I reached the water they were far out, and up to their waists; and I saw that Jack Benton's head had fallen forward on his breast, and his free arm hung limp beside him, while his dead brother steadily marched him to his death. The moonlight was on the dark water, but the fog-bank was white beyond, and I saw them against it; and they went slowly and steadily down. The water was up to their armpits, and then up to their shoulders, and then I saw it rise up to the black rim of Jack's hat. But they never wavered; and the two heads went straight on, straight on, till they were under, and there was just a ripple in the moonlight where Jack had been. It has been on my mind to tell you that story, whenever I got a chance. You have known me, man and boy, a good many years; and I thought I would like to hear your opinion. Yes, that's what I always thought. It wasn't Jim that went overboard; it was Jack, and Jim just let him go when he might have saved him; and then Jim passed himself off for Jack with us, and with the girl. If that's what happened, he got what he deserved. People said the next day that and he said that some of the trees we saw were his. The fences were neat and well kept, and there was a fair-sized barn a little way from the cottage, and I saw some nice-looking cattle in the meadows; but it didn't look to me to be much of a farm, and I thought that before long Jack would have to leave his wife to take care of it, and go to sea again. But I said it was a nice farm, so as to seem pleasant, and as I don't know much about these things I dare say it was, all the same. I never saw it but that once. Jack told me that he and his brother had been born in the cottage, and that when their father and mother died they leased the land to Mamie's father, but had kept the cottage to live in when they came home from sea for a spell. It was as neat a little place as you would care to see: the floors as clean as the decks of a yacht, and the paint as fresh as a man-o'-war. Jack always was a good painter. There was a nice parlour on the ground floor, and Jack had papered it and had hung the walls with photographs of ships and foreign ports, and with things he had brought home from his voyages: a boomerang, a South Sea club, Japanese straw hats and a Gibraltar fan with a bull-fight on it, and all that sort of gear. It looked to me as if Miss Mamie had taken a hand in arranging it. There was a bran-new polished iron Franklin stove set into the old fireplace, and a red table-cloth from Alexandria, embroidered with those outlandish Egyptian letters. It was all as bright I slept ten hours without opening my eyes. I stuck to the _Helen B. Jackson_ after that as long as I could stand a fore-and-after; but that night when we lay in Havana was the last time I ever heard "Nancy Lee" on board of her. The spare hand had gone ashore with the rest, and he never came back, and he took his tune with him; but all those things are just as clear in my memory as if they had happened yesterday. After that I was in deep water for a year or more, and after I came home I got my certificate, and what with having friends and having saved a little money, and having had a small legacy from an uncle in Norway, I got the command of a coastwise vessel, with a small share in her. I was at home three weeks before going to sea, and Jack Benton saw my name in the local papers, and wrote to me. He said that he had left the sea, and was trying farming, and he was going to be married, and he asked if I wouldn't come over for that, for it wasn't more than forty minutes by train; and he and Mamie would be proud to have me at the wedding. I remembered how I had heard one brother ask the other whether Mamie knew. That meant, whether she knew he wanted to marry her, I suppose. She had taken her time about it, for it was pretty nearly three years then since we had lost Jim Benton overboard. I had nothing particular to do while we were getting ready for sea; nothing to prevent me from going over for a day, I mean; and I thought I'd like to see Jack Benton, and have and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily

How took out an insurance policy of Champagne?

His brother

of the twelfth century. But whether the scene be in modern India, rural England, the Black Forest, or the palaces of Babylon, the story seizes on the imagination and fascinates the reader. "The romantic reader will find here a tale of love passionate and pure; the student of character, the subtle analysis and deft portrayal he loves; the historian will approve its conscientious historic accuracy; the lover of adventure will find his blood stir and pulses quicken as he reads." Dr. Claudius A Roman Singer Zoroaster Don Orsino Marion Darche A Cigarette Maker's Romance and Khaled Taquisara Via Crucis Sant' Ilario The Ralstons Adam Johnstone's Son and A Rose of Yesterday Mr. Isaacs A Tale of a Lonely Parish Saracinesca Paul Patoff The Witch of Prague Pietro Ghisleri Corleone Children of the King Katherine Lauderdale To Leeward Each, bound in cloth, green and gold, $1.80 An American Politician Marzio's Crucifix With the Immortals Greifenstein The Three Fates Casa Braccio. 2 vols. Love in Idleness CECILIA: A Story of Modern Rome _Cloth_, $1.50 "The reincarnation of a great love is the real story, and that is well worth reading."--_San Francisco Chronicle._ MARIETTA: A Maid of Venice _Cloth_, $1.50 IN THE PALACE OF THE KING A Love Story of Old Madrid _Illustrated, Cloth_, $1.50 AVE ROMA IMMORTALIS Studies from the Chronicles of Rome _New edition. Revised. _x_ + 613 pp. 8vo. $3.00, net._ RULERS OF THE SOUTH Sicily, Calabria, Malta _In two volumes. Crown 8vo. $6.00, net._ The Macmillan Little Novels BY FAVOURITE AUTHORS Handsomely Bound in Decorated Cloth 16mo. 50 cents each PHILOSOPHY FOUR A STORY OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY By Owen Wister Author of "The Virginian" etc. MAN OVERBOARD By F. Marion Crawford Author of "Cecilia," "Marietta," etc. MR. KEEGAN'S ELOPEMENT By Winston Churchill Author of "The Crisis," "Richard Carvel," etc. MRS. PENDLETON'S FOUR-IN-HAND By Gertrude Atherton Author of "The Conqueror," "The Splendid Idle Forties," etc. might at this moment be a professor of Sanskrit in some American college;" for that idea persisted after his return to the United States, where he entered Harvard for special study of the subject. But from the May evening when the story of the interesting man at Simla was first told in a club smoking-room overlooking Madison Square, Mr. Crawford's life has been one of hard literary work. He returned to Italy in 1883, spent most of the next year in Constantinople, where he was married to a daughter of General Berdan. From 1885 he has made his home in Sorrento, Italy, visiting America at intervals. "Mr. Isaacs," published in 1882, was followed almost at once by "Dr. Claudius." Then _The Atlantic Monthly_ claimed a serial, "A Roman Singer," in 1883. Since that time the list of his novels has been increased to thirty-two, besides the historical and descriptive works entitled "Ave Roma Immortalis" and "The Rulers of the South." To Mr. Crawford, the development of a story and of the character which suggested it, is the preëminent thing. As the critics say:-- "He is an artist, a born story-teller and colourist, imaginative and dramatic, virile and vivid." His wide range as a traveller has contributed doubtless to another characteristic quality:-- "... his strength in unexcelled portraits of odd characters and his magical skill in seeming to make his readers witnesses of the spectacles." His intimate knowledge of many countries has resulted in an unequalled series of brilliant romances, including varied characters from the old families of Rome, the glassblowers of Venice, the silversmiths of Rome, the cigarette makers of Munich, the court of old Madrid, the Turks of Stamboul and the Bosphorus, simple sailors on the coast of Spain, Americans of modern New York and Bar Harbor, to Crusaders _Helen B. Jackson_. They had been on half a dozen ships since the _Boston Belle_, and they had grown up and were good seamen. They had reddish beards and bright blue eyes and freckled faces; and they were quiet fellows, good workmen on rigging, pretty willing, and both good men at the wheel. They managed to be in the same watch--it was the port watch on the _Helen B._, and that was mine, and I had great confidence in them both. If there was any job aloft that needed two hands, they were always the first to jump into the rigging; but that doesn't often happen on a fore-and-aft schooner. If it breezed up, and the jibtopsail was to be taken in, they never minded a wetting, and they would be out at the bowsprit end before there was a hand at the downhaul. The men liked them for that, and because they didn't blow about what they could do. I remember one day in a reefing job, the downhaul parted and came down on deck from the peak of the spanker. When the weather moderated, and we shook the reefs out, the downhaul was forgotten until we happened to think we might soon need it again. There was some sea on, and the boom was off and the gaff was slamming. One of those Benton boys was at the wheel, and before I knew what he was doing, the other was out on the gaff with the end of the new downhaul, trying to reeve it through its block. The one who was steering watched him, and got as white as cheese. The other one was swinging about on the gaff end, and every time she rolled to leeward he brought up with a jerk that would have sent of them afterwards thought that might have had something to do with it, but I had all that nonsense knocked out of me when I was a boy. I don't mean to say that I like to go to sea on a Friday, but I _have_ gone to sea on a Friday, and nothing has happened; and twice before that we have been thirteen, because one of the hands didn't turn up at the last minute, and nothing ever happened either--nothing worse than the loss of a light spar or two, or a little canvas. Whenever I have been wrecked, we had sailed as cheerily as you please--no thirteens, no Fridays, no dead men in the hold. I believe it generally happens that way. I dare say you remember those two Benton boys that were so much alike? It is no wonder, for they were twin brothers. They shipped with us as boys on the old _Boston Belle_, when you were mate and I was before the mast. I never was quite sure which was which of those two, even then; and when they both had beards it was harder than ever to tell them apart. One was Jim, and the other was Jack; James Benton and John Benton. The only difference I ever could see was, that one seemed to be rather more cheerful and inclined to talk than the other; but one couldn't even be sure of that. Perhaps they had moods. Anyhow, there was one of them that used to whistle when he was alone. He only knew one tune, and that was "Nancy Lee," and the other didn't know any tune at all; but I may be mistaken about that, too. Perhaps they both knew it. Well, those two Benton boys turned up on board the and fine brown hair, and a good figure. "This is Captain Torkeldsen," said Jack. "This is Miss Brewster, captain; and she is glad to see you." "Well, I am," said Miss Mamie, "for Jack has often talked to us about you, captain." She put out her hand, and took mine and shook it heartily, and I suppose I said something, but I know I didn't say much. The front door of the cottage looked toward the sea, and there was a straight path leading to the gate on the beach road. There was another path from the steps of the cottage that turned to the right, broad enough for two people to walk easily, and it led straight across the fields through gates to a larger house about a quarter of a mile away. That was where Mamie's mother lived, and the wedding was to be there. Jack asked me whether I would like to look round the farm before dinner, but I told him I didn't know much about farms. Then he said he just wanted to look round himself a bit, as he mightn't have much more chance that day; and he smiled, and Mamie laughed. "Show the captain the way to the house, Mamie," he said. "I'll be along in a minute." So Mamie and I began to walk along the path, and Jack went up toward the barn. "It was sweet of you to come, captain," Miss Mamie began, "for I have always wanted to see you." "Yes," I said, expecting something more. "You see, I always knew them both," she went on. "They used to take me out in a dory to catch codfish when I was a little girl, and I liked them both," she added thoughtfully. "Jack doesn't care to talk about his

Which identity did Champagne assume?

Harold Stegeman

might at this moment be a professor of Sanskrit in some American college;" for that idea persisted after his return to the United States, where he entered Harvard for special study of the subject. But from the May evening when the story of the interesting man at Simla was first told in a club smoking-room overlooking Madison Square, Mr. Crawford's life has been one of hard literary work. He returned to Italy in 1883, spent most of the next year in Constantinople, where he was married to a daughter of General Berdan. From 1885 he has made his home in Sorrento, Italy, visiting America at intervals. "Mr. Isaacs," published in 1882, was followed almost at once by "Dr. Claudius." Then _The Atlantic Monthly_ claimed a serial, "A Roman Singer," in 1883. Since that time the list of his novels has been increased to thirty-two, besides the historical and descriptive works entitled "Ave Roma Immortalis" and "The Rulers of the South." To Mr. Crawford, the development of a story and of the character which suggested it, is the preëminent thing. As the critics say:-- "He is an artist, a born story-teller and colourist, imaginative and dramatic, virile and vivid." His wide range as a traveller has contributed doubtless to another characteristic quality:-- "... his strength in unexcelled portraits of odd characters and his magical skill in seeming to make his readers witnesses of the spectacles." His intimate knowledge of many countries has resulted in an unequalled series of brilliant romances, including varied characters from the old families of Rome, the glassblowers of Venice, the silversmiths of Rome, the cigarette makers of Munich, the court of old Madrid, the Turks of Stamboul and the Bosphorus, simple sailors on the coast of Spain, Americans of modern New York and Bar Harbor, to Crusaders and he said that some of the trees we saw were his. The fences were neat and well kept, and there was a fair-sized barn a little way from the cottage, and I saw some nice-looking cattle in the meadows; but it didn't look to me to be much of a farm, and I thought that before long Jack would have to leave his wife to take care of it, and go to sea again. But I said it was a nice farm, so as to seem pleasant, and as I don't know much about these things I dare say it was, all the same. I never saw it but that once. Jack told me that he and his brother had been born in the cottage, and that when their father and mother died they leased the land to Mamie's father, but had kept the cottage to live in when they came home from sea for a spell. It was as neat a little place as you would care to see: the floors as clean as the decks of a yacht, and the paint as fresh as a man-o'-war. Jack always was a good painter. There was a nice parlour on the ground floor, and Jack had papered it and had hung the walls with photographs of ships and foreign ports, and with things he had brought home from his voyages: a boomerang, a South Sea club, Japanese straw hats and a Gibraltar fan with a bull-fight on it, and all that sort of gear. It looked to me as if Miss Mamie had taken a hand in arranging it. There was a bran-new polished iron Franklin stove set into the old fireplace, and a red table-cloth from Alexandria, embroidered with those outlandish Egyptian letters. It was all as bright and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily and fine brown hair, and a good figure. "This is Captain Torkeldsen," said Jack. "This is Miss Brewster, captain; and she is glad to see you." "Well, I am," said Miss Mamie, "for Jack has often talked to us about you, captain." She put out her hand, and took mine and shook it heartily, and I suppose I said something, but I know I didn't say much. The front door of the cottage looked toward the sea, and there was a straight path leading to the gate on the beach road. There was another path from the steps of the cottage that turned to the right, broad enough for two people to walk easily, and it led straight across the fields through gates to a larger house about a quarter of a mile away. That was where Mamie's mother lived, and the wedding was to be there. Jack asked me whether I would like to look round the farm before dinner, but I told him I didn't know much about farms. Then he said he just wanted to look round himself a bit, as he mightn't have much more chance that day; and he smiled, and Mamie laughed. "Show the captain the way to the house, Mamie," he said. "I'll be along in a minute." So Mamie and I began to walk along the path, and Jack went up toward the barn. "It was sweet of you to come, captain," Miss Mamie began, "for I have always wanted to see you." "Yes," I said, expecting something more. "You see, I always knew them both," she went on. "They used to take me out in a dory to catch codfish when I was a little girl, and I liked them both," she added thoughtfully. "Jack doesn't care to talk about his

What state did Champagne live in under his assumed idenity?

Washington

and he said that some of the trees we saw were his. The fences were neat and well kept, and there was a fair-sized barn a little way from the cottage, and I saw some nice-looking cattle in the meadows; but it didn't look to me to be much of a farm, and I thought that before long Jack would have to leave his wife to take care of it, and go to sea again. But I said it was a nice farm, so as to seem pleasant, and as I don't know much about these things I dare say it was, all the same. I never saw it but that once. Jack told me that he and his brother had been born in the cottage, and that when their father and mother died they leased the land to Mamie's father, but had kept the cottage to live in when they came home from sea for a spell. It was as neat a little place as you would care to see: the floors as clean as the decks of a yacht, and the paint as fresh as a man-o'-war. Jack always was a good painter. There was a nice parlour on the ground floor, and Jack had papered it and had hung the walls with photographs of ships and foreign ports, and with things he had brought home from his voyages: a boomerang, a South Sea club, Japanese straw hats and a Gibraltar fan with a bull-fight on it, and all that sort of gear. It looked to me as if Miss Mamie had taken a hand in arranging it. There was a bran-new polished iron Franklin stove set into the old fireplace, and a red table-cloth from Alexandria, embroidered with those outlandish Egyptian letters. It was all as bright and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, and fine brown hair, and a good figure. "This is Captain Torkeldsen," said Jack. "This is Miss Brewster, captain; and she is glad to see you." "Well, I am," said Miss Mamie, "for Jack has often talked to us about you, captain." She put out her hand, and took mine and shook it heartily, and I suppose I said something, but I know I didn't say much. The front door of the cottage looked toward the sea, and there was a straight path leading to the gate on the beach road. There was another path from the steps of the cottage that turned to the right, broad enough for two people to walk easily, and it led straight across the fields through gates to a larger house about a quarter of a mile away. That was where Mamie's mother lived, and the wedding was to be there. Jack asked me whether I would like to look round the farm before dinner, but I told him I didn't know much about farms. Then he said he just wanted to look round himself a bit, as he mightn't have much more chance that day; and he smiled, and Mamie laughed. "Show the captain the way to the house, Mamie," he said. "I'll be along in a minute." So Mamie and I began to walk along the path, and Jack went up toward the barn. "It was sweet of you to come, captain," Miss Mamie began, "for I have always wanted to see you." "Yes," I said, expecting something more. "You see, I always knew them both," she went on. "They used to take me out in a dory to catch codfish when I was a little girl, and I liked them both," she added thoughtfully. "Jack doesn't care to talk about his I slept ten hours without opening my eyes. I stuck to the _Helen B. Jackson_ after that as long as I could stand a fore-and-after; but that night when we lay in Havana was the last time I ever heard "Nancy Lee" on board of her. The spare hand had gone ashore with the rest, and he never came back, and he took his tune with him; but all those things are just as clear in my memory as if they had happened yesterday. After that I was in deep water for a year or more, and after I came home I got my certificate, and what with having friends and having saved a little money, and having had a small legacy from an uncle in Norway, I got the command of a coastwise vessel, with a small share in her. I was at home three weeks before going to sea, and Jack Benton saw my name in the local papers, and wrote to me. He said that he had left the sea, and was trying farming, and he was going to be married, and he asked if I wouldn't come over for that, for it wasn't more than forty minutes by train; and he and Mamie would be proud to have me at the wedding. I remembered how I had heard one brother ask the other whether Mamie knew. That meant, whether she knew he wanted to marry her, I suppose. She had taken her time about it, for it was pretty nearly three years then since we had lost Jim Benton overboard. I had nothing particular to do while we were getting ready for sea; nothing to prevent me from going over for a day, I mean; and I thought I'd like to see Jack Benton, and have was always a plate more. It wasn't that he complained of that. Before poor Jim Benton was lost they had a man more to feed, and his gear to wash up after meals, and that was in the contract, the doctor said. It would have been if there were twenty in the ship's company; but he didn't think it was right for the men to play tricks like that. He kept his things in good order, and he counted them, and he was responsible for them, and it wasn't right that the men should take more things than they needed when his back was turned, and just soil them and mix them up with their own, so as to make him think-- He stopped there, and looked at me, and I looked at him. I didn't know what he thought, but I began to guess. I wasn't going to humour any such nonsense as that, so I told him to speak to the men himself, and not come bothering me about such things. "Count the plates and forks and spoons before them when they sit down to table, and tell them that's all they'll get; and when they have finished, count the things again, and if the count isn't right, find out who did it. You know it must be one of them. You're not a green hand; you've been going to sea ten or eleven years, and don't want any lesson about how to behave if the boys play a trick on you." "If I could catch him," said the cook, "I'd have a knife into him before he could say his prayers." Those West India men are always talking about knives, especially when they are badly frightened. I knew what he meant, and didn't ask him, but went

Who was Harold Stegeman in reality?

An 8 year old boy who died

and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily was always a plate more. It wasn't that he complained of that. Before poor Jim Benton was lost they had a man more to feed, and his gear to wash up after meals, and that was in the contract, the doctor said. It would have been if there were twenty in the ship's company; but he didn't think it was right for the men to play tricks like that. He kept his things in good order, and he counted them, and he was responsible for them, and it wasn't right that the men should take more things than they needed when his back was turned, and just soil them and mix them up with their own, so as to make him think-- He stopped there, and looked at me, and I looked at him. I didn't know what he thought, but I began to guess. I wasn't going to humour any such nonsense as that, so I told him to speak to the men himself, and not come bothering me about such things. "Count the plates and forks and spoons before them when they sit down to table, and tell them that's all they'll get; and when they have finished, count the things again, and if the count isn't right, find out who did it. You know it must be one of them. You're not a green hand; you've been going to sea ten or eleven years, and don't want any lesson about how to behave if the boys play a trick on you." "If I could catch him," said the cook, "I'd have a knife into him before he could say his prayers." Those West India men are always talking about knives, especially when they are badly frightened. I knew what he meant, and didn't ask him, but went will. Jack Benton was the last to go over the side, and he stood still a minute and looked at me, and his white face twitched. I thought he wanted to say something. "Take care of yourself, Jack," said I. "So long!" It seemed as if he couldn't speak for two or three seconds; then his words came thick. "It wasn't my fault, Mr. Torkeldsen. I swear it wasn't my fault!" That was all; and he dropped over the side, leaving me to wonder what he meant. The captain and I stayed on board, and the ship-chandler got a West India boy to cook for us. That evening, before turning in, we were standing by the rail having a quiet smoke, watching the lights of the city, a quarter of a mile off, reflected in the still water. There was music of some sort ashore, in a sailors' dance-house, I dare say; and I had no doubt that most of the men who had left the ship were there, and already full of jiggy-jiggy. The music played a lot of sailors' tunes that ran into each other, and we could hear the men's voices in the chorus now and then. One followed another, and then it was "Nancy Lee," loud and clear, and the men singing "Yo-ho, heave-ho!" "I have no ear for music," said Captain Hackstaff, "but it appears to me that's the tune that man was whistling the night we lost the man overboard. I don't know why it has stuck in my head, and of course it's all nonsense; but it seems to me that I have heard it all the rest of the trip." I didn't say anything to that, but I wondered just how much the old man had understood. Then we turned in, and and fine brown hair, and a good figure. "This is Captain Torkeldsen," said Jack. "This is Miss Brewster, captain; and she is glad to see you." "Well, I am," said Miss Mamie, "for Jack has often talked to us about you, captain." She put out her hand, and took mine and shook it heartily, and I suppose I said something, but I know I didn't say much. The front door of the cottage looked toward the sea, and there was a straight path leading to the gate on the beach road. There was another path from the steps of the cottage that turned to the right, broad enough for two people to walk easily, and it led straight across the fields through gates to a larger house about a quarter of a mile away. That was where Mamie's mother lived, and the wedding was to be there. Jack asked me whether I would like to look round the farm before dinner, but I told him I didn't know much about farms. Then he said he just wanted to look round himself a bit, as he mightn't have much more chance that day; and he smiled, and Mamie laughed. "Show the captain the way to the house, Mamie," he said. "I'll be along in a minute." So Mamie and I began to walk along the path, and Jack went up toward the barn. "It was sweet of you to come, captain," Miss Mamie began, "for I have always wanted to see you." "Yes," I said, expecting something more. "You see, I always knew them both," she went on. "They used to take me out in a dory to catch codfish when I was a little girl, and I liked them both," she added thoughtfully. "Jack doesn't care to talk about his

What offense was Champagne eventually arrested for?

Counterfeiting

and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily was always a plate more. It wasn't that he complained of that. Before poor Jim Benton was lost they had a man more to feed, and his gear to wash up after meals, and that was in the contract, the doctor said. It would have been if there were twenty in the ship's company; but he didn't think it was right for the men to play tricks like that. He kept his things in good order, and he counted them, and he was responsible for them, and it wasn't right that the men should take more things than they needed when his back was turned, and just soil them and mix them up with their own, so as to make him think-- He stopped there, and looked at me, and I looked at him. I didn't know what he thought, but I began to guess. I wasn't going to humour any such nonsense as that, so I told him to speak to the men himself, and not come bothering me about such things. "Count the plates and forks and spoons before them when they sit down to table, and tell them that's all they'll get; and when they have finished, count the things again, and if the count isn't right, find out who did it. You know it must be one of them. You're not a green hand; you've been going to sea ten or eleven years, and don't want any lesson about how to behave if the boys play a trick on you." "If I could catch him," said the cook, "I'd have a knife into him before he could say his prayers." Those West India men are always talking about knives, especially when they are badly frightened. I knew what he meant, and didn't ask him, but went and fine brown hair, and a good figure. "This is Captain Torkeldsen," said Jack. "This is Miss Brewster, captain; and she is glad to see you." "Well, I am," said Miss Mamie, "for Jack has often talked to us about you, captain." She put out her hand, and took mine and shook it heartily, and I suppose I said something, but I know I didn't say much. The front door of the cottage looked toward the sea, and there was a straight path leading to the gate on the beach road. There was another path from the steps of the cottage that turned to the right, broad enough for two people to walk easily, and it led straight across the fields through gates to a larger house about a quarter of a mile away. That was where Mamie's mother lived, and the wedding was to be there. Jack asked me whether I would like to look round the farm before dinner, but I told him I didn't know much about farms. Then he said he just wanted to look round himself a bit, as he mightn't have much more chance that day; and he smiled, and Mamie laughed. "Show the captain the way to the house, Mamie," he said. "I'll be along in a minute." So Mamie and I began to walk along the path, and Jack went up toward the barn. "It was sweet of you to come, captain," Miss Mamie began, "for I have always wanted to see you." "Yes," I said, expecting something more. "You see, I always knew them both," she went on. "They used to take me out in a dory to catch codfish when I was a little girl, and I liked them both," she added thoughtfully. "Jack doesn't care to talk about his will. Jack Benton was the last to go over the side, and he stood still a minute and looked at me, and his white face twitched. I thought he wanted to say something. "Take care of yourself, Jack," said I. "So long!" It seemed as if he couldn't speak for two or three seconds; then his words came thick. "It wasn't my fault, Mr. Torkeldsen. I swear it wasn't my fault!" That was all; and he dropped over the side, leaving me to wonder what he meant. The captain and I stayed on board, and the ship-chandler got a West India boy to cook for us. That evening, before turning in, we were standing by the rail having a quiet smoke, watching the lights of the city, a quarter of a mile off, reflected in the still water. There was music of some sort ashore, in a sailors' dance-house, I dare say; and I had no doubt that most of the men who had left the ship were there, and already full of jiggy-jiggy. The music played a lot of sailors' tunes that ran into each other, and we could hear the men's voices in the chorus now and then. One followed another, and then it was "Nancy Lee," loud and clear, and the men singing "Yo-ho, heave-ho!" "I have no ear for music," said Captain Hackstaff, "but it appears to me that's the tune that man was whistling the night we lost the man overboard. I don't know why it has stuck in my head, and of course it's all nonsense; but it seems to me that I have heard it all the rest of the trip." I didn't say anything to that, but I wondered just how much the old man had understood. Then we turned in, and

What was Champagne's plea in court?

Guilty

and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily I slept ten hours without opening my eyes. I stuck to the _Helen B. Jackson_ after that as long as I could stand a fore-and-after; but that night when we lay in Havana was the last time I ever heard "Nancy Lee" on board of her. The spare hand had gone ashore with the rest, and he never came back, and he took his tune with him; but all those things are just as clear in my memory as if they had happened yesterday. After that I was in deep water for a year or more, and after I came home I got my certificate, and what with having friends and having saved a little money, and having had a small legacy from an uncle in Norway, I got the command of a coastwise vessel, with a small share in her. I was at home three weeks before going to sea, and Jack Benton saw my name in the local papers, and wrote to me. He said that he had left the sea, and was trying farming, and he was going to be married, and he asked if I wouldn't come over for that, for it wasn't more than forty minutes by train; and he and Mamie would be proud to have me at the wedding. I remembered how I had heard one brother ask the other whether Mamie knew. That meant, whether she knew he wanted to marry her, I suppose. She had taken her time about it, for it was pretty nearly three years then since we had lost Jim Benton overboard. I had nothing particular to do while we were getting ready for sea; nothing to prevent me from going over for a day, I mean; and I thought I'd like to see Jack Benton, and have was always a plate more. It wasn't that he complained of that. Before poor Jim Benton was lost they had a man more to feed, and his gear to wash up after meals, and that was in the contract, the doctor said. It would have been if there were twenty in the ship's company; but he didn't think it was right for the men to play tricks like that. He kept his things in good order, and he counted them, and he was responsible for them, and it wasn't right that the men should take more things than they needed when his back was turned, and just soil them and mix them up with their own, so as to make him think-- He stopped there, and looked at me, and I looked at him. I didn't know what he thought, but I began to guess. I wasn't going to humour any such nonsense as that, so I told him to speak to the men himself, and not come bothering me about such things. "Count the plates and forks and spoons before them when they sit down to table, and tell them that's all they'll get; and when they have finished, count the things again, and if the count isn't right, find out who did it. You know it must be one of them. You're not a green hand; you've been going to sea ten or eleven years, and don't want any lesson about how to behave if the boys play a trick on you." "If I could catch him," said the cook, "I'd have a knife into him before he could say his prayers." Those West India men are always talking about knives, especially when they are badly frightened. I knew what he meant, and didn't ask him, but went a great misfortune, he said, and it was nobody's fault. We had lost a man we all liked and respected, and he felt that everybody in the ship ought to be sorry for the man's brother, who was left behind, and that it was rotten lubberly childishness, and unjust and unmanly and cowardly, to be playing schoolboy tricks with forks and spoons and pipes, and that sort of gear. He said it had got to stop right now, and that was all, and the men might go forward. And so they did. It got worse after that, and the men watched the cook, and the cook watched the men, as if they were trying to catch each other; but I think everybody felt that there was something else. One evening, at supper-time, I was on deck, and Jack came aft to relieve the wheel while the man who was steering got his supper. He hadn't got past the main-hatch on the lee side, when I heard a man running in slippers that slapped on the deck, and there was a sort of a yell and I saw the coloured cook going for Jack, with a carving-knife in his hand. I jumped to get between them, and Jack turned round short, and put out his hand. I was too far to reach them, and the cook jabbed out with his knife. But the blade didn't get anywhere near Benton. The cook seemed to be jabbing it into the air again and again, at least four feet short of the mark. Then he dropped his right hand, and I saw the whites of his eyes in the dusk, and he reeled up against the pin-rail, and caught hold of a belaying-pin with his left. I had reached him by that time, and

How long was Champagne in federal prison?

21 months

as Fate; and all the time I saw the moonlight shining on his wet oilskins. He walked him through the gate, and across the beach road, and out upon the wet sand, where the tide was high. Then I got my breath with a gulp, and ran for them across the grass, and vaulted over the fence, and stumbled across the road. But when I felt the sand under my feet, the two were at the water's edge; and when I reached the water they were far out, and up to their waists; and I saw that Jack Benton's head had fallen forward on his breast, and his free arm hung limp beside him, while his dead brother steadily marched him to his death. The moonlight was on the dark water, but the fog-bank was white beyond, and I saw them against it; and they went slowly and steadily down. The water was up to their armpits, and then up to their shoulders, and then I saw it rise up to the black rim of Jack's hat. But they never wavered; and the two heads went straight on, straight on, till they were under, and there was just a ripple in the moonlight where Jack had been. It has been on my mind to tell you that story, whenever I got a chance. You have known me, man and boy, a good many years; and I thought I would like to hear your opinion. Yes, that's what I always thought. It wasn't Jim that went overboard; it was Jack, and Jim just let him go when he might have saved him; and then Jim passed himself off for Jack with us, and with the girl. If that's what happened, he got what he deserved. People said the next day that might at this moment be a professor of Sanskrit in some American college;" for that idea persisted after his return to the United States, where he entered Harvard for special study of the subject. But from the May evening when the story of the interesting man at Simla was first told in a club smoking-room overlooking Madison Square, Mr. Crawford's life has been one of hard literary work. He returned to Italy in 1883, spent most of the next year in Constantinople, where he was married to a daughter of General Berdan. From 1885 he has made his home in Sorrento, Italy, visiting America at intervals. "Mr. Isaacs," published in 1882, was followed almost at once by "Dr. Claudius." Then _The Atlantic Monthly_ claimed a serial, "A Roman Singer," in 1883. Since that time the list of his novels has been increased to thirty-two, besides the historical and descriptive works entitled "Ave Roma Immortalis" and "The Rulers of the South." To Mr. Crawford, the development of a story and of the character which suggested it, is the preëminent thing. As the critics say:-- "He is an artist, a born story-teller and colourist, imaginative and dramatic, virile and vivid." His wide range as a traveller has contributed doubtless to another characteristic quality:-- "... his strength in unexcelled portraits of odd characters and his magical skill in seeming to make his readers witnesses of the spectacles." His intimate knowledge of many countries has resulted in an unequalled series of brilliant romances, including varied characters from the old families of Rome, the glassblowers of Venice, the silversmiths of Rome, the cigarette makers of Munich, the court of old Madrid, the Turks of Stamboul and the Bosphorus, simple sailors on the coast of Spain, Americans of modern New York and Bar Harbor, to Crusaders and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily and fine brown hair, and a good figure. "This is Captain Torkeldsen," said Jack. "This is Miss Brewster, captain; and she is glad to see you." "Well, I am," said Miss Mamie, "for Jack has often talked to us about you, captain." She put out her hand, and took mine and shook it heartily, and I suppose I said something, but I know I didn't say much. The front door of the cottage looked toward the sea, and there was a straight path leading to the gate on the beach road. There was another path from the steps of the cottage that turned to the right, broad enough for two people to walk easily, and it led straight across the fields through gates to a larger house about a quarter of a mile away. That was where Mamie's mother lived, and the wedding was to be there. Jack asked me whether I would like to look round the farm before dinner, but I told him I didn't know much about farms. Then he said he just wanted to look round himself a bit, as he mightn't have much more chance that day; and he smiled, and Mamie laughed. "Show the captain the way to the house, Mamie," he said. "I'll be along in a minute." So Mamie and I began to walk along the path, and Jack went up toward the barn. "It was sweet of you to come, captain," Miss Mamie began, "for I have always wanted to see you." "Yes," I said, expecting something more. "You see, I always knew them both," she went on. "They used to take me out in a dory to catch codfish when I was a little girl, and I liked them both," she added thoughtfully. "Jack doesn't care to talk about his

How old was Champagne when he died?

52

after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily will. Jack Benton was the last to go over the side, and he stood still a minute and looked at me, and his white face twitched. I thought he wanted to say something. "Take care of yourself, Jack," said I. "So long!" It seemed as if he couldn't speak for two or three seconds; then his words came thick. "It wasn't my fault, Mr. Torkeldsen. I swear it wasn't my fault!" That was all; and he dropped over the side, leaving me to wonder what he meant. The captain and I stayed on board, and the ship-chandler got a West India boy to cook for us. That evening, before turning in, we were standing by the rail having a quiet smoke, watching the lights of the city, a quarter of a mile off, reflected in the still water. There was music of some sort ashore, in a sailors' dance-house, I dare say; and I had no doubt that most of the men who had left the ship were there, and already full of jiggy-jiggy. The music played a lot of sailors' tunes that ran into each other, and we could hear the men's voices in the chorus now and then. One followed another, and then it was "Nancy Lee," loud and clear, and the men singing "Yo-ho, heave-ho!" "I have no ear for music," said Captain Hackstaff, "but it appears to me that's the tune that man was whistling the night we lost the man overboard. I don't know why it has stuck in my head, and of course it's all nonsense; but it seems to me that I have heard it all the rest of the trip." I didn't say anything to that, but I wondered just how much the old man had understood. Then we turned in, and were clearing up decks, he was swearing. He was a quiet man, and I hadn't heard him swear before, and I don't think I did again, though several queer things happened after that. Perhaps he said all he had to say then; I don't see how he could have said anything more. I used to think nobody could swear like a Dane, except a Neapolitan or a South American; but when I had heard the old man I changed my mind. There's nothing afloat or ashore that can beat one of your quiet American skippers, if he gets off on that tack. I didn't need to ask him what was the matter, for I knew he had heard "Nancy Lee," as I had, only it affected us differently. He did not give me the wheel, but told me to go forward and get the second bonnet off the staysail, so as to keep her up better. As we tailed on to the sheet when it was done, the man next me knocked his sou'wester off against my shoulder, and his face came so close to me that I could see it in the dark. It must have been very white for me to see it, but I only thought of that afterwards. I don't see how any light could have fallen upon it, but I knew it was one of the Benton boys. I don't know what made me speak to him. "Hullo, Jim! Is that you?" I asked. I don't know why I said Jim, rather than Jack. "I am Jack," he answered. We made all fast, and things were much quieter. "The old man heard you whistling 'Nancy Lee,' just now," I said, "and he didn't like it." It was as if there were a white light inside hurt. I left the wheel and went after him, but when I got to the corner of the deck-house I saw that he was on a full run forward, so I went back. I watched the compass for a while, to see how far she went off, and she must have come to again half a dozen times before I heard voices, more than three or four, forward; and then I heard the little West Indies cook's voice, high and shrill above the rest:-- "Man overboard!" There wasn't anything to be done, with the ship hove-to and the wheel lashed. If there was a man overboard, he must be in the water right alongside. I couldn't imagine how it could have happened, but I ran forward instinctively. I came upon the cook first, half-dressed in his shirt and trousers, just as he had tumbled out of his bunk. He was jumping into the main rigging, evidently hoping to see the man, as if any one could have seen anything on such a night, except the foam-streaks on the black water, and now and then the curl of a breaking sea as it went away to leeward. Several of the men were peering over the rail into the dark. I caught the cook by the foot, and asked who was gone. "It's Jim Benton," he shouted down to me. "He's not aboard this ship!" There was no doubt about that. Jim Benton was gone; and I knew in a flash that he had been taken off by that sea when we were setting the storm trysail. It was nearly half an hour since then; she had run like wild for a few minutes until we got her hove-to, and no swimmer that ever swam could have lived as long as that that, drunk or sober. Yes, they say it has happened on hard ships, but I never knew a case myself. Once in a long time a man is fished out when it is just too late, and dies in the boat before you can get him aboard, and--well, I don't know that I ever told that story since it happened--I knew a fellow who went over, and came back dead. I didn't see him after he came back; only one of us did, but we all knew he was there. No, I am not giving you "sharks." There isn't a shark in this story, and I don't know that I would tell it at all if we weren't alone, just you and I. But you and I have seen things in various parts, and maybe you will understand. Anyhow, you know that I am telling what I know about, and nothing else; and it has been on my mind to tell you ever since it happened, only there hasn't been a chance. It's a long story, and it took some time to happen; and it began a good many years ago, in October, as well as I can remember. I was mate then; I passed the local Marine Board for master about three years later. She was the _Helen B. Jackson_, of New York, with lumber for the West Indies, four-masted schooner, Captain Hackstaff. She was an old-fashioned one, even then--no steam donkey, and all to do by hand. There were still sailors in the coasting trade in those days, you remember. She wasn't a hard ship, for the old man was better than most of them, though he kept to himself and had a face like a monkey-wrench. We were thirteen, all told, in the ship's company; and some

Where was Champagne sailing when he disappeared?

Olympic Peninsula

grabbed hold of his knife-hand and the other too, for I thought he was going to use the pin; but Jack Benton was standing staring stupidly at him, as if he didn't understand. But instead, the cook was holding on because he couldn't stand, and his teeth were chattering, and he let go of the knife, and the point stuck into the deck. "He's crazy!" said Jack Benton, and that was all he said; and he went aft. When he was gone, the cook began to come to, and he spoke quite low, near my ear. "There were two of them! So help me God, there were two of them!" I don't know why I didn't take him by the collar, and give him a good shaking; but I didn't. I just picked up the knife and gave it to him, and told him to go back to his galley, and not to make a fool of himself. You see, he hadn't struck at Jack, but at something he thought he saw, and I knew what it was, and I felt that same thing, like a lump of ice sliding down my back, that I felt that night when we were bending the trysail. When the men had seen him running aft, they jumped up after him, but they held off when they saw that I had caught him. By and by, the man who had spoken to me before told me what had happened. He was a stocky little chap, with a red head. "Well," he said, "there isn't much to tell. Jack Benton had been eating his supper with the rest of us. He always sits at the after corner of the table, on the port side. His brother used to sit at the end, next him. The of them afterwards thought that might have had something to do with it, but I had all that nonsense knocked out of me when I was a boy. I don't mean to say that I like to go to sea on a Friday, but I _have_ gone to sea on a Friday, and nothing has happened; and twice before that we have been thirteen, because one of the hands didn't turn up at the last minute, and nothing ever happened either--nothing worse than the loss of a light spar or two, or a little canvas. Whenever I have been wrecked, we had sailed as cheerily as you please--no thirteens, no Fridays, no dead men in the hold. I believe it generally happens that way. I dare say you remember those two Benton boys that were so much alike? It is no wonder, for they were twin brothers. They shipped with us as boys on the old _Boston Belle_, when you were mate and I was before the mast. I never was quite sure which was which of those two, even then; and when they both had beards it was harder than ever to tell them apart. One was Jim, and the other was Jack; James Benton and John Benton. The only difference I ever could see was, that one seemed to be rather more cheerful and inclined to talk than the other; but one couldn't even be sure of that. Perhaps they had moods. Anyhow, there was one of them that used to whistle when he was alone. He only knew one tune, and that was "Nancy Lee," and the other didn't know any tune at all; but I may be mistaken about that, too. Perhaps they both knew it. Well, those two Benton boys turned up on board the and fine brown hair, and a good figure. "This is Captain Torkeldsen," said Jack. "This is Miss Brewster, captain; and she is glad to see you." "Well, I am," said Miss Mamie, "for Jack has often talked to us about you, captain." She put out her hand, and took mine and shook it heartily, and I suppose I said something, but I know I didn't say much. The front door of the cottage looked toward the sea, and there was a straight path leading to the gate on the beach road. There was another path from the steps of the cottage that turned to the right, broad enough for two people to walk easily, and it led straight across the fields through gates to a larger house about a quarter of a mile away. That was where Mamie's mother lived, and the wedding was to be there. Jack asked me whether I would like to look round the farm before dinner, but I told him I didn't know much about farms. Then he said he just wanted to look round himself a bit, as he mightn't have much more chance that day; and he smiled, and Mamie laughed. "Show the captain the way to the house, Mamie," he said. "I'll be along in a minute." So Mamie and I began to walk along the path, and Jack went up toward the barn. "It was sweet of you to come, captain," Miss Mamie began, "for I have always wanted to see you." "Yes," I said, expecting something more. "You see, I always knew them both," she went on. "They used to take me out in a dory to catch codfish when I was a little girl, and I liked them both," she added thoughtfully. "Jack doesn't care to talk about his after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily will. Jack Benton was the last to go over the side, and he stood still a minute and looked at me, and his white face twitched. I thought he wanted to say something. "Take care of yourself, Jack," said I. "So long!" It seemed as if he couldn't speak for two or three seconds; then his words came thick. "It wasn't my fault, Mr. Torkeldsen. I swear it wasn't my fault!" That was all; and he dropped over the side, leaving me to wonder what he meant. The captain and I stayed on board, and the ship-chandler got a West India boy to cook for us. That evening, before turning in, we were standing by the rail having a quiet smoke, watching the lights of the city, a quarter of a mile off, reflected in the still water. There was music of some sort ashore, in a sailors' dance-house, I dare say; and I had no doubt that most of the men who had left the ship were there, and already full of jiggy-jiggy. The music played a lot of sailors' tunes that ran into each other, and we could hear the men's voices in the chorus now and then. One followed another, and then it was "Nancy Lee," loud and clear, and the men singing "Yo-ho, heave-ho!" "I have no ear for music," said Captain Hackstaff, "but it appears to me that's the tune that man was whistling the night we lost the man overboard. I don't know why it has stuck in my head, and of course it's all nonsense; but it seems to me that I have heard it all the rest of the trip." I didn't say anything to that, but I wondered just how much the old man had understood. Then we turned in, and

Whose identity did Champagne steal?

Harold Stegeman

grabbed hold of his knife-hand and the other too, for I thought he was going to use the pin; but Jack Benton was standing staring stupidly at him, as if he didn't understand. But instead, the cook was holding on because he couldn't stand, and his teeth were chattering, and he let go of the knife, and the point stuck into the deck. "He's crazy!" said Jack Benton, and that was all he said; and he went aft. When he was gone, the cook began to come to, and he spoke quite low, near my ear. "There were two of them! So help me God, there were two of them!" I don't know why I didn't take him by the collar, and give him a good shaking; but I didn't. I just picked up the knife and gave it to him, and told him to go back to his galley, and not to make a fool of himself. You see, he hadn't struck at Jack, but at something he thought he saw, and I knew what it was, and I felt that same thing, like a lump of ice sliding down my back, that I felt that night when we were bending the trysail. When the men had seen him running aft, they jumped up after him, but they held off when they saw that I had caught him. By and by, the man who had spoken to me before told me what had happened. He was a stocky little chap, with a red head. "Well," he said, "there isn't much to tell. Jack Benton had been eating his supper with the rest of us. He always sits at the after corner of the table, on the port side. His brother used to sit at the end, next him. The were all beginning to wonder how long his grief for his dead brother was going to last like that. I watched him as he crouched down, and ran his hand into the hiding-place for the pipe. When he stood up, he had two pipes in his hand. Now, I remembered very well seeing him throw one of those pipes away, early in the morning after the gale; and it came to me now, and I didn't suppose he kept a stock of them under the anchor. I caught sight of his face, and it was greenish white, like the foam on shallow water, and he stood a long time looking at the two pipes. He wasn't looking to see which was his, for I wasn't five yards from him as he stood, and one of those pipes had been smoked that day, and was shiny where his hand had rubbed it, and the bone mouthpiece was chafed white where his teeth had bitten it. The other was water-logged. It was swelled and cracking with wet, and it looked to me as if there were a little green weed on it. Jack Benton turned his head rather stealthily as I looked away, and then he hid the thing in his trousers pocket, and went aft on the lee side, out of sight. The men had got the sheet pennant on a stretch to serve it, but I ducked under it and stood where I could see what Jack did, just under the fore-staysail. He couldn't see me, and he was looking about for something. His hand shook as he picked up a bit of half-bent iron rod, about a foot long, that had been used for turning an eye-bolt, and had been left on the main-hatch. His hand shook as he after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily a great misfortune, he said, and it was nobody's fault. We had lost a man we all liked and respected, and he felt that everybody in the ship ought to be sorry for the man's brother, who was left behind, and that it was rotten lubberly childishness, and unjust and unmanly and cowardly, to be playing schoolboy tricks with forks and spoons and pipes, and that sort of gear. He said it had got to stop right now, and that was all, and the men might go forward. And so they did. It got worse after that, and the men watched the cook, and the cook watched the men, as if they were trying to catch each other; but I think everybody felt that there was something else. One evening, at supper-time, I was on deck, and Jack came aft to relieve the wheel while the man who was steering got his supper. He hadn't got past the main-hatch on the lee side, when I heard a man running in slippers that slapped on the deck, and there was a sort of a yell and I saw the coloured cook going for Jack, with a carving-knife in his hand. I jumped to get between them, and Jack turned round short, and put out his hand. I was too far to reach them, and the cook jabbed out with his knife. But the blade didn't get anywhere near Benton. The cook seemed to be jabbing it into the air again and again, at least four feet short of the mark. Then he dropped his right hand, and I saw the whites of his eyes in the dusk, and he reeled up against the pin-rail, and caught hold of a belaying-pin with his left. I had reached him by that time, and was always a plate more. It wasn't that he complained of that. Before poor Jim Benton was lost they had a man more to feed, and his gear to wash up after meals, and that was in the contract, the doctor said. It would have been if there were twenty in the ship's company; but he didn't think it was right for the men to play tricks like that. He kept his things in good order, and he counted them, and he was responsible for them, and it wasn't right that the men should take more things than they needed when his back was turned, and just soil them and mix them up with their own, so as to make him think-- He stopped there, and looked at me, and I looked at him. I didn't know what he thought, but I began to guess. I wasn't going to humour any such nonsense as that, so I told him to speak to the men himself, and not come bothering me about such things. "Count the plates and forks and spoons before them when they sit down to table, and tell them that's all they'll get; and when they have finished, count the things again, and if the count isn't right, find out who did it. You know it must be one of them. You're not a green hand; you've been going to sea ten or eleven years, and don't want any lesson about how to behave if the boys play a trick on you." "If I could catch him," said the cook, "I'd have a knife into him before he could say his prayers." Those West India men are always talking about knives, especially when they are badly frightened. I knew what he meant, and didn't ask him, but went

How many years did Champagne live before being caught?

10 years

grabbed hold of his knife-hand and the other too, for I thought he was going to use the pin; but Jack Benton was standing staring stupidly at him, as if he didn't understand. But instead, the cook was holding on because he couldn't stand, and his teeth were chattering, and he let go of the knife, and the point stuck into the deck. "He's crazy!" said Jack Benton, and that was all he said; and he went aft. When he was gone, the cook began to come to, and he spoke quite low, near my ear. "There were two of them! So help me God, there were two of them!" I don't know why I didn't take him by the collar, and give him a good shaking; but I didn't. I just picked up the knife and gave it to him, and told him to go back to his galley, and not to make a fool of himself. You see, he hadn't struck at Jack, but at something he thought he saw, and I knew what it was, and I felt that same thing, like a lump of ice sliding down my back, that I felt that night when we were bending the trysail. When the men had seen him running aft, they jumped up after him, but they held off when they saw that I had caught him. By and by, the man who had spoken to me before told me what had happened. He was a stocky little chap, with a red head. "Well," he said, "there isn't much to tell. Jack Benton had been eating his supper with the rest of us. He always sits at the after corner of the table, on the port side. His brother used to sit at the end, next him. The after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily and fine brown hair, and a good figure. "This is Captain Torkeldsen," said Jack. "This is Miss Brewster, captain; and she is glad to see you." "Well, I am," said Miss Mamie, "for Jack has often talked to us about you, captain." She put out her hand, and took mine and shook it heartily, and I suppose I said something, but I know I didn't say much. The front door of the cottage looked toward the sea, and there was a straight path leading to the gate on the beach road. There was another path from the steps of the cottage that turned to the right, broad enough for two people to walk easily, and it led straight across the fields through gates to a larger house about a quarter of a mile away. That was where Mamie's mother lived, and the wedding was to be there. Jack asked me whether I would like to look round the farm before dinner, but I told him I didn't know much about farms. Then he said he just wanted to look round himself a bit, as he mightn't have much more chance that day; and he smiled, and Mamie laughed. "Show the captain the way to the house, Mamie," he said. "I'll be along in a minute." So Mamie and I began to walk along the path, and Jack went up toward the barn. "It was sweet of you to come, captain," Miss Mamie began, "for I have always wanted to see you." "Yes," I said, expecting something more. "You see, I always knew them both," she went on. "They used to take me out in a dory to catch codfish when I was a little girl, and I liked them both," she added thoughtfully. "Jack doesn't care to talk about his was always a plate more. It wasn't that he complained of that. Before poor Jim Benton was lost they had a man more to feed, and his gear to wash up after meals, and that was in the contract, the doctor said. It would have been if there were twenty in the ship's company; but he didn't think it was right for the men to play tricks like that. He kept his things in good order, and he counted them, and he was responsible for them, and it wasn't right that the men should take more things than they needed when his back was turned, and just soil them and mix them up with their own, so as to make him think-- He stopped there, and looked at me, and I looked at him. I didn't know what he thought, but I began to guess. I wasn't going to humour any such nonsense as that, so I told him to speak to the men himself, and not come bothering me about such things. "Count the plates and forks and spoons before them when they sit down to table, and tell them that's all they'll get; and when they have finished, count the things again, and if the count isn't right, find out who did it. You know it must be one of them. You're not a green hand; you've been going to sea ten or eleven years, and don't want any lesson about how to behave if the boys play a trick on you." "If I could catch him," said the cook, "I'd have a knife into him before he could say his prayers." Those West India men are always talking about knives, especially when they are badly frightened. I knew what he meant, and didn't ask him, but went a great misfortune, he said, and it was nobody's fault. We had lost a man we all liked and respected, and he felt that everybody in the ship ought to be sorry for the man's brother, who was left behind, and that it was rotten lubberly childishness, and unjust and unmanly and cowardly, to be playing schoolboy tricks with forks and spoons and pipes, and that sort of gear. He said it had got to stop right now, and that was all, and the men might go forward. And so they did. It got worse after that, and the men watched the cook, and the cook watched the men, as if they were trying to catch each other; but I think everybody felt that there was something else. One evening, at supper-time, I was on deck, and Jack came aft to relieve the wheel while the man who was steering got his supper. He hadn't got past the main-hatch on the lee side, when I heard a man running in slippers that slapped on the deck, and there was a sort of a yell and I saw the coloured cook going for Jack, with a carving-knife in his hand. I jumped to get between them, and Jack turned round short, and put out his hand. I was too far to reach them, and the cook jabbed out with his knife. But the blade didn't get anywhere near Benton. The cook seemed to be jabbing it into the air again and again, at least four feet short of the mark. Then he dropped his right hand, and I saw the whites of his eyes in the dusk, and he reeled up against the pin-rail, and caught hold of a belaying-pin with his left. I had reached him by that time, and

What was Champagne arrested for?

Champagne was arrested for counterfeiting U.S. currency in an Idaho garage.

grabbed hold of his knife-hand and the other too, for I thought he was going to use the pin; but Jack Benton was standing staring stupidly at him, as if he didn't understand. But instead, the cook was holding on because he couldn't stand, and his teeth were chattering, and he let go of the knife, and the point stuck into the deck. "He's crazy!" said Jack Benton, and that was all he said; and he went aft. When he was gone, the cook began to come to, and he spoke quite low, near my ear. "There were two of them! So help me God, there were two of them!" I don't know why I didn't take him by the collar, and give him a good shaking; but I didn't. I just picked up the knife and gave it to him, and told him to go back to his galley, and not to make a fool of himself. You see, he hadn't struck at Jack, but at something he thought he saw, and I knew what it was, and I felt that same thing, like a lump of ice sliding down my back, that I felt that night when we were bending the trysail. When the men had seen him running aft, they jumped up after him, but they held off when they saw that I had caught him. By and by, the man who had spoken to me before told me what had happened. He was a stocky little chap, with a red head. "Well," he said, "there isn't much to tell. Jack Benton had been eating his supper with the rest of us. He always sits at the after corner of the table, on the port side. His brother used to sit at the end, next him. The and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily was always a plate more. It wasn't that he complained of that. Before poor Jim Benton was lost they had a man more to feed, and his gear to wash up after meals, and that was in the contract, the doctor said. It would have been if there were twenty in the ship's company; but he didn't think it was right for the men to play tricks like that. He kept his things in good order, and he counted them, and he was responsible for them, and it wasn't right that the men should take more things than they needed when his back was turned, and just soil them and mix them up with their own, so as to make him think-- He stopped there, and looked at me, and I looked at him. I didn't know what he thought, but I began to guess. I wasn't going to humour any such nonsense as that, so I told him to speak to the men himself, and not come bothering me about such things. "Count the plates and forks and spoons before them when they sit down to table, and tell them that's all they'll get; and when they have finished, count the things again, and if the count isn't right, find out who did it. You know it must be one of them. You're not a green hand; you've been going to sea ten or eleven years, and don't want any lesson about how to behave if the boys play a trick on you." "If I could catch him," said the cook, "I'd have a knife into him before he could say his prayers." Those West India men are always talking about knives, especially when they are badly frightened. I knew what he meant, and didn't ask him, but went a great misfortune, he said, and it was nobody's fault. We had lost a man we all liked and respected, and he felt that everybody in the ship ought to be sorry for the man's brother, who was left behind, and that it was rotten lubberly childishness, and unjust and unmanly and cowardly, to be playing schoolboy tricks with forks and spoons and pipes, and that sort of gear. He said it had got to stop right now, and that was all, and the men might go forward. And so they did. It got worse after that, and the men watched the cook, and the cook watched the men, as if they were trying to catch each other; but I think everybody felt that there was something else. One evening, at supper-time, I was on deck, and Jack came aft to relieve the wheel while the man who was steering got his supper. He hadn't got past the main-hatch on the lee side, when I heard a man running in slippers that slapped on the deck, and there was a sort of a yell and I saw the coloured cook going for Jack, with a carving-knife in his hand. I jumped to get between them, and Jack turned round short, and put out his hand. I was too far to reach them, and the cook jabbed out with his knife. But the blade didn't get anywhere near Benton. The cook seemed to be jabbing it into the air again and again, at least four feet short of the mark. Then he dropped his right hand, and I saw the whites of his eyes in the dusk, and he reeled up against the pin-rail, and caught hold of a belaying-pin with his left. I had reached him by that time, and

How much time did Champagne serve in prison?

21 months

and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily and fine brown hair, and a good figure. "This is Captain Torkeldsen," said Jack. "This is Miss Brewster, captain; and she is glad to see you." "Well, I am," said Miss Mamie, "for Jack has often talked to us about you, captain." She put out her hand, and took mine and shook it heartily, and I suppose I said something, but I know I didn't say much. The front door of the cottage looked toward the sea, and there was a straight path leading to the gate on the beach road. There was another path from the steps of the cottage that turned to the right, broad enough for two people to walk easily, and it led straight across the fields through gates to a larger house about a quarter of a mile away. That was where Mamie's mother lived, and the wedding was to be there. Jack asked me whether I would like to look round the farm before dinner, but I told him I didn't know much about farms. Then he said he just wanted to look round himself a bit, as he mightn't have much more chance that day; and he smiled, and Mamie laughed. "Show the captain the way to the house, Mamie," he said. "I'll be along in a minute." So Mamie and I began to walk along the path, and Jack went up toward the barn. "It was sweet of you to come, captain," Miss Mamie began, "for I have always wanted to see you." "Yes," I said, expecting something more. "You see, I always knew them both," she went on. "They used to take me out in a dory to catch codfish when I was a little girl, and I liked them both," she added thoughtfully. "Jack doesn't care to talk about his was always a plate more. It wasn't that he complained of that. Before poor Jim Benton was lost they had a man more to feed, and his gear to wash up after meals, and that was in the contract, the doctor said. It would have been if there were twenty in the ship's company; but he didn't think it was right for the men to play tricks like that. He kept his things in good order, and he counted them, and he was responsible for them, and it wasn't right that the men should take more things than they needed when his back was turned, and just soil them and mix them up with their own, so as to make him think-- He stopped there, and looked at me, and I looked at him. I didn't know what he thought, but I began to guess. I wasn't going to humour any such nonsense as that, so I told him to speak to the men himself, and not come bothering me about such things. "Count the plates and forks and spoons before them when they sit down to table, and tell them that's all they'll get; and when they have finished, count the things again, and if the count isn't right, find out who did it. You know it must be one of them. You're not a green hand; you've been going to sea ten or eleven years, and don't want any lesson about how to behave if the boys play a trick on you." "If I could catch him," said the cook, "I'd have a knife into him before he could say his prayers." Those West India men are always talking about knives, especially when they are badly frightened. I knew what he meant, and didn't ask him, but went lapping up over the last reach of sand, within fifty feet of the beach road. Jack didn't say much as we sat smoking, but he thanked me for coming to his wedding, and I told him I hoped he would be happy; and so I did. I dare say both of us were thinking of those footsteps upstairs, just then, and that the house wouldn't seem so lonely with a woman in it. By and by we heard Mamie's voice talking to her mother on the stairs, and in a minute she was ready to go. She had put on again the dress she had worn in the morning, and it looked black at night, almost as black as Jack's coat. Well, they were ready to go now. It was all very quiet after the day's excitement, and I knew they would like to walk down that path alone now that they were man and wife at last. I bade them good-night, although Jack made a show of pressing me to go with them by the path as far as the cottage, instead of going to the station by the beach road. It was all very quiet, and it seemed to me a sensible way of getting married; and when Mamie kissed her mother good-night I just looked the other way, and knocked my ashes over the rail of the piazza. So they started down the straight path to Jack's cottage, and I waited a minute with Mrs. Brewster, looking after them, before taking my hat to go. They walked side by side, a little shyly at first, and then I saw Jack put his arm round her waist. As I looked he was on her left, and I saw the outline of the two figures very distinctly against the

What were Champagne's official charges?

Passport Fraud and counterfeiting

might at this moment be a professor of Sanskrit in some American college;" for that idea persisted after his return to the United States, where he entered Harvard for special study of the subject. But from the May evening when the story of the interesting man at Simla was first told in a club smoking-room overlooking Madison Square, Mr. Crawford's life has been one of hard literary work. He returned to Italy in 1883, spent most of the next year in Constantinople, where he was married to a daughter of General Berdan. From 1885 he has made his home in Sorrento, Italy, visiting America at intervals. "Mr. Isaacs," published in 1882, was followed almost at once by "Dr. Claudius." Then _The Atlantic Monthly_ claimed a serial, "A Roman Singer," in 1883. Since that time the list of his novels has been increased to thirty-two, besides the historical and descriptive works entitled "Ave Roma Immortalis" and "The Rulers of the South." To Mr. Crawford, the development of a story and of the character which suggested it, is the preëminent thing. As the critics say:-- "He is an artist, a born story-teller and colourist, imaginative and dramatic, virile and vivid." His wide range as a traveller has contributed doubtless to another characteristic quality:-- "... his strength in unexcelled portraits of odd characters and his magical skill in seeming to make his readers witnesses of the spectacles." His intimate knowledge of many countries has resulted in an unequalled series of brilliant romances, including varied characters from the old families of Rome, the glassblowers of Venice, the silversmiths of Rome, the cigarette makers of Munich, the court of old Madrid, the Turks of Stamboul and the Bosphorus, simple sailors on the coast of Spain, Americans of modern New York and Bar Harbor, to Crusaders and he said that some of the trees we saw were his. The fences were neat and well kept, and there was a fair-sized barn a little way from the cottage, and I saw some nice-looking cattle in the meadows; but it didn't look to me to be much of a farm, and I thought that before long Jack would have to leave his wife to take care of it, and go to sea again. But I said it was a nice farm, so as to seem pleasant, and as I don't know much about these things I dare say it was, all the same. I never saw it but that once. Jack told me that he and his brother had been born in the cottage, and that when their father and mother died they leased the land to Mamie's father, but had kept the cottage to live in when they came home from sea for a spell. It was as neat a little place as you would care to see: the floors as clean as the decks of a yacht, and the paint as fresh as a man-o'-war. Jack always was a good painter. There was a nice parlour on the ground floor, and Jack had papered it and had hung the walls with photographs of ships and foreign ports, and with things he had brought home from his voyages: a boomerang, a South Sea club, Japanese straw hats and a Gibraltar fan with a bull-fight on it, and all that sort of gear. It looked to me as if Miss Mamie had taken a hand in arranging it. There was a bran-new polished iron Franklin stove set into the old fireplace, and a red table-cloth from Alexandria, embroidered with those outlandish Egyptian letters. It was all as bright and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily I slept ten hours without opening my eyes. I stuck to the _Helen B. Jackson_ after that as long as I could stand a fore-and-after; but that night when we lay in Havana was the last time I ever heard "Nancy Lee" on board of her. The spare hand had gone ashore with the rest, and he never came back, and he took his tune with him; but all those things are just as clear in my memory as if they had happened yesterday. After that I was in deep water for a year or more, and after I came home I got my certificate, and what with having friends and having saved a little money, and having had a small legacy from an uncle in Norway, I got the command of a coastwise vessel, with a small share in her. I was at home three weeks before going to sea, and Jack Benton saw my name in the local papers, and wrote to me. He said that he had left the sea, and was trying farming, and he was going to be married, and he asked if I wouldn't come over for that, for it wasn't more than forty minutes by train; and he and Mamie would be proud to have me at the wedding. I remembered how I had heard one brother ask the other whether Mamie knew. That meant, whether she knew he wanted to marry her, I suppose. She had taken her time about it, for it was pretty nearly three years then since we had lost Jim Benton overboard. I had nothing particular to do while we were getting ready for sea; nothing to prevent me from going over for a day, I mean; and I thought I'd like to see Jack Benton, and have

What occupation did Champagne have during his ten years living as Stegeman?

A Washington Restaurateur

as Fate; and all the time I saw the moonlight shining on his wet oilskins. He walked him through the gate, and across the beach road, and out upon the wet sand, where the tide was high. Then I got my breath with a gulp, and ran for them across the grass, and vaulted over the fence, and stumbled across the road. But when I felt the sand under my feet, the two were at the water's edge; and when I reached the water they were far out, and up to their waists; and I saw that Jack Benton's head had fallen forward on his breast, and his free arm hung limp beside him, while his dead brother steadily marched him to his death. The moonlight was on the dark water, but the fog-bank was white beyond, and I saw them against it; and they went slowly and steadily down. The water was up to their armpits, and then up to their shoulders, and then I saw it rise up to the black rim of Jack's hat. But they never wavered; and the two heads went straight on, straight on, till they were under, and there was just a ripple in the moonlight where Jack had been. It has been on my mind to tell you that story, whenever I got a chance. You have known me, man and boy, a good many years; and I thought I would like to hear your opinion. Yes, that's what I always thought. It wasn't Jim that went overboard; it was Jack, and Jim just let him go when he might have saved him; and then Jim passed himself off for Jack with us, and with the girl. If that's what happened, he got what he deserved. People said the next day that and he said that some of the trees we saw were his. The fences were neat and well kept, and there was a fair-sized barn a little way from the cottage, and I saw some nice-looking cattle in the meadows; but it didn't look to me to be much of a farm, and I thought that before long Jack would have to leave his wife to take care of it, and go to sea again. But I said it was a nice farm, so as to seem pleasant, and as I don't know much about these things I dare say it was, all the same. I never saw it but that once. Jack told me that he and his brother had been born in the cottage, and that when their father and mother died they leased the land to Mamie's father, but had kept the cottage to live in when they came home from sea for a spell. It was as neat a little place as you would care to see: the floors as clean as the decks of a yacht, and the paint as fresh as a man-o'-war. Jack always was a good painter. There was a nice parlour on the ground floor, and Jack had papered it and had hung the walls with photographs of ships and foreign ports, and with things he had brought home from his voyages: a boomerang, a South Sea club, Japanese straw hats and a Gibraltar fan with a bull-fight on it, and all that sort of gear. It looked to me as if Miss Mamie had taken a hand in arranging it. There was a bran-new polished iron Franklin stove set into the old fireplace, and a red table-cloth from Alexandria, embroidered with those outlandish Egyptian letters. It was all as bright and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, of the twelfth century. But whether the scene be in modern India, rural England, the Black Forest, or the palaces of Babylon, the story seizes on the imagination and fascinates the reader. "The romantic reader will find here a tale of love passionate and pure; the student of character, the subtle analysis and deft portrayal he loves; the historian will approve its conscientious historic accuracy; the lover of adventure will find his blood stir and pulses quicken as he reads." Dr. Claudius A Roman Singer Zoroaster Don Orsino Marion Darche A Cigarette Maker's Romance and Khaled Taquisara Via Crucis Sant' Ilario The Ralstons Adam Johnstone's Son and A Rose of Yesterday Mr. Isaacs A Tale of a Lonely Parish Saracinesca Paul Patoff The Witch of Prague Pietro Ghisleri Corleone Children of the King Katherine Lauderdale To Leeward Each, bound in cloth, green and gold, $1.80 An American Politician Marzio's Crucifix With the Immortals Greifenstein The Three Fates Casa Braccio. 2 vols. Love in Idleness CECILIA: A Story of Modern Rome _Cloth_, $1.50 "The reincarnation of a great love is the real story, and that is well worth reading."--_San Francisco Chronicle._ MARIETTA: A Maid of Venice _Cloth_, $1.50 IN THE PALACE OF THE KING A Love Story of Old Madrid _Illustrated, Cloth_, $1.50 AVE ROMA IMMORTALIS Studies from the Chronicles of Rome _New edition. Revised. _x_ + 613 pp. 8vo. $3.00, net._ RULERS OF THE SOUTH Sicily, Calabria, Malta _In two volumes. Crown 8vo. $6.00, net._ The Macmillan Little Novels BY FAVOURITE AUTHORS Handsomely Bound in Decorated Cloth 16mo. 50 cents each PHILOSOPHY FOUR A STORY OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY By Owen Wister Author of "The Virginian" etc. MAN OVERBOARD By F. Marion Crawford Author of "Cecilia," "Marietta," etc. MR. KEEGAN'S ELOPEMENT By Winston Churchill Author of "The Crisis," "Richard Carvel," etc. MRS. PENDLETON'S FOUR-IN-HAND By Gertrude Atherton Author of "The Conqueror," "The Splendid Idle Forties," etc. after that. I was glad Mrs. Brewster had gone in. As for me, I couldn't help following the three, in a sort of wonder to see what would happen, to see whether the sailor-man in his wet togs would just melt away into the moonshine. But he didn't. I moved slowly, and I remembered afterwards that I walked on the grass, instead of on the path, as if I were afraid they might hear me coming. I suppose it all happened in less than five minutes after that, but it seemed as if it must have taken an hour. Neither Jack nor Mamie seemed to notice the sailor. She didn't seem to know that his wet arm was round her, and little by little they got near the cottage, and I wasn't a hundred yards from them when they reached the door. Something made me stand still then. Perhaps it was fright, for I saw everything that happened just as I see you now. Mamie set her foot on the step to go up, and as she went forward I saw the sailor slowly lock his arm in Jack's, and Jack didn't move to go up. Then Mamie turned round on the step, and they all three stood that way for a second or two. She cried out then,--I heard a man cry like that once, when his arm was taken off by a steam-crane,--and she fell back in a heap on the little piazza. I tried to jump forward, but I couldn't move, and I felt my hair rising under my hat. The sailor turned slowly where he stood, and swung Jack round by the arm steadily and easily, and began to walk him down the pathway from the house. He walked him straight down that path, as steadily

How much was Champagne's life insurance policy?

1.5 million

as Fate; and all the time I saw the moonlight shining on his wet oilskins. He walked him through the gate, and across the beach road, and out upon the wet sand, where the tide was high. Then I got my breath with a gulp, and ran for them across the grass, and vaulted over the fence, and stumbled across the road. But when I felt the sand under my feet, the two were at the water's edge; and when I reached the water they were far out, and up to their waists; and I saw that Jack Benton's head had fallen forward on his breast, and his free arm hung limp beside him, while his dead brother steadily marched him to his death. The moonlight was on the dark water, but the fog-bank was white beyond, and I saw them against it; and they went slowly and steadily down. The water was up to their armpits, and then up to their shoulders, and then I saw it rise up to the black rim of Jack's hat. But they never wavered; and the two heads went straight on, straight on, till they were under, and there was just a ripple in the moonlight where Jack had been. It has been on my mind to tell you that story, whenever I got a chance. You have known me, man and boy, a good many years; and I thought I would like to hear your opinion. Yes, that's what I always thought. It wasn't Jim that went overboard; it was Jack, and Jim just let him go when he might have saved him; and then Jim passed himself off for Jack with us, and with the girl. If that's what happened, he got what he deserved. People said the next day that I slept ten hours without opening my eyes. I stuck to the _Helen B. Jackson_ after that as long as I could stand a fore-and-after; but that night when we lay in Havana was the last time I ever heard "Nancy Lee" on board of her. The spare hand had gone ashore with the rest, and he never came back, and he took his tune with him; but all those things are just as clear in my memory as if they had happened yesterday. After that I was in deep water for a year or more, and after I came home I got my certificate, and what with having friends and having saved a little money, and having had a small legacy from an uncle in Norway, I got the command of a coastwise vessel, with a small share in her. I was at home three weeks before going to sea, and Jack Benton saw my name in the local papers, and wrote to me. He said that he had left the sea, and was trying farming, and he was going to be married, and he asked if I wouldn't come over for that, for it wasn't more than forty minutes by train; and he and Mamie would be proud to have me at the wedding. I remembered how I had heard one brother ask the other whether Mamie knew. That meant, whether she knew he wanted to marry her, I suppose. She had taken her time about it, for it was pretty nearly three years then since we had lost Jim Benton overboard. I had nothing particular to do while we were getting ready for sea; nothing to prevent me from going over for a day, I mean; and I thought I'd like to see Jack Benton, and have and he said that some of the trees we saw were his. The fences were neat and well kept, and there was a fair-sized barn a little way from the cottage, and I saw some nice-looking cattle in the meadows; but it didn't look to me to be much of a farm, and I thought that before long Jack would have to leave his wife to take care of it, and go to sea again. But I said it was a nice farm, so as to seem pleasant, and as I don't know much about these things I dare say it was, all the same. I never saw it but that once. Jack told me that he and his brother had been born in the cottage, and that when their father and mother died they leased the land to Mamie's father, but had kept the cottage to live in when they came home from sea for a spell. It was as neat a little place as you would care to see: the floors as clean as the decks of a yacht, and the paint as fresh as a man-o'-war. Jack always was a good painter. There was a nice parlour on the ground floor, and Jack had papered it and had hung the walls with photographs of ships and foreign ports, and with things he had brought home from his voyages: a boomerang, a South Sea club, Japanese straw hats and a Gibraltar fan with a bull-fight on it, and all that sort of gear. It looked to me as if Miss Mamie had taken a hand in arranging it. There was a bran-new polished iron Franklin stove set into the old fireplace, and a red table-cloth from Alexandria, embroidered with those outlandish Egyptian letters. It was all as bright and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, were all beginning to wonder how long his grief for his dead brother was going to last like that. I watched him as he crouched down, and ran his hand into the hiding-place for the pipe. When he stood up, he had two pipes in his hand. Now, I remembered very well seeing him throw one of those pipes away, early in the morning after the gale; and it came to me now, and I didn't suppose he kept a stock of them under the anchor. I caught sight of his face, and it was greenish white, like the foam on shallow water, and he stood a long time looking at the two pipes. He wasn't looking to see which was his, for I wasn't five yards from him as he stood, and one of those pipes had been smoked that day, and was shiny where his hand had rubbed it, and the bone mouthpiece was chafed white where his teeth had bitten it. The other was water-logged. It was swelled and cracking with wet, and it looked to me as if there were a little green weed on it. Jack Benton turned his head rather stealthily as I looked away, and then he hid the thing in his trousers pocket, and went aft on the lee side, out of sight. The men had got the sheet pennant on a stretch to serve it, but I ducked under it and stood where I could see what Jack did, just under the fore-staysail. He couldn't see me, and he was looking about for something. His hand shook as he picked up a bit of half-bent iron rod, about a foot long, that had been used for turning an eye-bolt, and had been left on the main-hatch. His hand shook as he

Who originally took out the insurance policy?

Champagnes brother

as Fate; and all the time I saw the moonlight shining on his wet oilskins. He walked him through the gate, and across the beach road, and out upon the wet sand, where the tide was high. Then I got my breath with a gulp, and ran for them across the grass, and vaulted over the fence, and stumbled across the road. But when I felt the sand under my feet, the two were at the water's edge; and when I reached the water they were far out, and up to their waists; and I saw that Jack Benton's head had fallen forward on his breast, and his free arm hung limp beside him, while his dead brother steadily marched him to his death. The moonlight was on the dark water, but the fog-bank was white beyond, and I saw them against it; and they went slowly and steadily down. The water was up to their armpits, and then up to their shoulders, and then I saw it rise up to the black rim of Jack's hat. But they never wavered; and the two heads went straight on, straight on, till they were under, and there was just a ripple in the moonlight where Jack had been. It has been on my mind to tell you that story, whenever I got a chance. You have known me, man and boy, a good many years; and I thought I would like to hear your opinion. Yes, that's what I always thought. It wasn't Jim that went overboard; it was Jack, and Jim just let him go when he might have saved him; and then Jim passed himself off for Jack with us, and with the girl. If that's what happened, he got what he deserved. People said the next day that and homelike as possible, and he showed me everything, and was proud of everything, and I liked him the better for it. But I wished that his voice would sound more cheerful, as it did when we first sailed in the _Helen B._, and that the drawn look would go out of his face for a minute. Jack showed me everything, and took me upstairs, and it was all the same: bright and fresh and ready for the bride. But on the upper landing there was a door that Jack didn't open. When we came out of the bedroom I noticed that it was ajar, and Jack shut it quickly and turned the key. "That lock's no good," he said, half to himself. "The door is always open." I didn't pay much attention to what he said, but as we went down the short stairs, freshly painted and varnished so that I was almost afraid to step on them, he spoke again. "That was his room, sir. I have made a sort of store-room of it." "You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant. "I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice. Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, were all beginning to wonder how long his grief for his dead brother was going to last like that. I watched him as he crouched down, and ran his hand into the hiding-place for the pipe. When he stood up, he had two pipes in his hand. Now, I remembered very well seeing him throw one of those pipes away, early in the morning after the gale; and it came to me now, and I didn't suppose he kept a stock of them under the anchor. I caught sight of his face, and it was greenish white, like the foam on shallow water, and he stood a long time looking at the two pipes. He wasn't looking to see which was his, for I wasn't five yards from him as he stood, and one of those pipes had been smoked that day, and was shiny where his hand had rubbed it, and the bone mouthpiece was chafed white where his teeth had bitten it. The other was water-logged. It was swelled and cracking with wet, and it looked to me as if there were a little green weed on it. Jack Benton turned his head rather stealthily as I looked away, and then he hid the thing in his trousers pocket, and went aft on the lee side, out of sight. The men had got the sheet pennant on a stretch to serve it, but I ducked under it and stood where I could see what Jack did, just under the fore-staysail. He couldn't see me, and he was looking about for something. His hand shook as he picked up a bit of half-bent iron rod, about a foot long, that had been used for turning an eye-bolt, and had been left on the main-hatch. His hand shook as he and fine brown hair, and a good figure. "This is Captain Torkeldsen," said Jack. "This is Miss Brewster, captain; and she is glad to see you." "Well, I am," said Miss Mamie, "for Jack has often talked to us about you, captain." She put out her hand, and took mine and shook it heartily, and I suppose I said something, but I know I didn't say much. The front door of the cottage looked toward the sea, and there was a straight path leading to the gate on the beach road. There was another path from the steps of the cottage that turned to the right, broad enough for two people to walk easily, and it led straight across the fields through gates to a larger house about a quarter of a mile away. That was where Mamie's mother lived, and the wedding was to be there. Jack asked me whether I would like to look round the farm before dinner, but I told him I didn't know much about farms. Then he said he just wanted to look round himself a bit, as he mightn't have much more chance that day; and he smiled, and Mamie laughed. "Show the captain the way to the house, Mamie," he said. "I'll be along in a minute." So Mamie and I began to walk along the path, and Jack went up toward the barn. "It was sweet of you to come, captain," Miss Mamie began, "for I have always wanted to see you." "Yes," I said, expecting something more. "You see, I always knew them both," she went on. "They used to take me out in a dory to catch codfish when I was a little girl, and I liked them both," she added thoughtfully. "Jack doesn't care to talk about his a look at the girl he was going to marry. I wondered whether he had grown cheerful again, and had got rid of that drawn look he had when he told me it wasn't his fault. How could it have been his fault, anyhow? So I wrote to Jack that I would come down and see him married; and when the day came I took the train, and got there about ten o'clock in the morning. I wish I hadn't. Jack met me at the station, and he told me that the wedding was to be late in the afternoon, and that they weren't going off on any silly wedding trip, he and Mamie, but were just going to walk home from her mother's house to his cottage. That was good enough for him, he said. I looked at him hard for a minute after we met. When we had parted I had a sort of idea that he might take to drink, but he hadn't. He looked very respectable and well-to-do in his black coat and high city collar; but he was thinner and bonier than when I had known him, and there were lines in his face, and I thought his eyes had a queer look in them, half shifty, half scared. He needn't have been afraid of me, for I didn't mean to talk to his bride about the _Helen B. Jackson_. He took me to his cottage first, and I could see that he was proud of it. It wasn't above a cable's-length from high-water mark, but the tide was running out, and there was already a broad stretch of hard wet sand on the other side of the beach road. Jack's bit of land ran back behind the cottage about a quarter of a mile,

Who would benefit from Phil's death?

Phil and whoever getting cash

and he said that some of the trees we saw were his. The fences were neat and well kept, and there was a fair-sized barn a little way from the cottage, and I saw some nice-looking cattle in the meadows; but it didn't look to me to be much of a farm, and I thought that before long Jack would have to leave his wife to take care of it, and go to sea again. But I said it was a nice farm, so as to seem pleasant, and as I don't know much about these things I dare say it was, all the same. I never saw it but that once. Jack told me that he and his brother had been born in the cottage, and that when their father and mother died they leased the land to Mamie's father, but had kept the cottage to live in when they came home from sea for a spell. It was as neat a little place as you would care to see: the floors as clean as the decks of a yacht, and the paint as fresh as a man-o'-war. Jack always was a good painter. There was a nice parlour on the ground floor, and Jack had papered it and had hung the walls with photographs of ships and foreign ports, and with things he had brought home from his voyages: a boomerang, a South Sea club, Japanese straw hats and a Gibraltar fan with a bull-fight on it, and all that sort of gear. It looked to me as if Miss Mamie had taken a hand in arranging it. There was a bran-new polished iron Franklin stove set into the old fireplace, and a red table-cloth from Alexandria, embroidered with those outlandish Egyptian letters. It was all as bright were all beginning to wonder how long his grief for his dead brother was going to last like that. I watched him as he crouched down, and ran his hand into the hiding-place for the pipe. When he stood up, he had two pipes in his hand. Now, I remembered very well seeing him throw one of those pipes away, early in the morning after the gale; and it came to me now, and I didn't suppose he kept a stock of them under the anchor. I caught sight of his face, and it was greenish white, like the foam on shallow water, and he stood a long time looking at the two pipes. He wasn't looking to see which was his, for I wasn't five yards from him as he stood, and one of those pipes had been smoked that day, and was shiny where his hand had rubbed it, and the bone mouthpiece was chafed white where his teeth had bitten it. The other was water-logged. It was swelled and cracking with wet, and it looked to me as if there were a little green weed on it. Jack Benton turned his head rather stealthily as I looked away, and then he hid the thing in his trousers pocket, and went aft on the lee side, out of sight. The men had got the sheet pennant on a stretch to serve it, but I ducked under it and stood where I could see what Jack did, just under the fore-staysail. He couldn't see me, and he was looking about for something. His hand shook as he picked up a bit of half-bent iron rod, about a foot long, that had been used for turning an eye-bolt, and had been left on the main-hatch. His hand shook as he I slept ten hours without opening my eyes. I stuck to the _Helen B. Jackson_ after that as long as I could stand a fore-and-after; but that night when we lay in Havana was the last time I ever heard "Nancy Lee" on board of her. The spare hand had gone ashore with the rest, and he never came back, and he took his tune with him; but all those things are just as clear in my memory as if they had happened yesterday. After that I was in deep water for a year or more, and after I came home I got my certificate, and what with having friends and having saved a little money, and having had a small legacy from an uncle in Norway, I got the command of a coastwise vessel, with a small share in her. I was at home three weeks before going to sea, and Jack Benton saw my name in the local papers, and wrote to me. He said that he had left the sea, and was trying farming, and he was going to be married, and he asked if I wouldn't come over for that, for it wasn't more than forty minutes by train; and he and Mamie would be proud to have me at the wedding. I remembered how I had heard one brother ask the other whether Mamie knew. That meant, whether she knew he wanted to marry her, I suppose. She had taken her time about it, for it was pretty nearly three years then since we had lost Jim Benton overboard. I had nothing particular to do while we were getting ready for sea; nothing to prevent me from going over for a day, I mean; and I thought I'd like to see Jack Benton, and have a great misfortune, he said, and it was nobody's fault. We had lost a man we all liked and respected, and he felt that everybody in the ship ought to be sorry for the man's brother, who was left behind, and that it was rotten lubberly childishness, and unjust and unmanly and cowardly, to be playing schoolboy tricks with forks and spoons and pipes, and that sort of gear. He said it had got to stop right now, and that was all, and the men might go forward. And so they did. It got worse after that, and the men watched the cook, and the cook watched the men, as if they were trying to catch each other; but I think everybody felt that there was something else. One evening, at supper-time, I was on deck, and Jack came aft to relieve the wheel while the man who was steering got his supper. He hadn't got past the main-hatch on the lee side, when I heard a man running in slippers that slapped on the deck, and there was a sort of a yell and I saw the coloured cook going for Jack, with a carving-knife in his hand. I jumped to get between them, and Jack turned round short, and put out his hand. I was too far to reach them, and the cook jabbed out with his knife. But the blade didn't get anywhere near Benton. The cook seemed to be jabbing it into the air again and again, at least four feet short of the mark. Then he dropped his right hand, and I saw the whites of his eyes in the dusk, and he reeled up against the pin-rail, and caught hold of a belaying-pin with his left. I had reached him by that time, and a look at the girl he was going to marry. I wondered whether he had grown cheerful again, and had got rid of that drawn look he had when he told me it wasn't his fault. How could it have been his fault, anyhow? So I wrote to Jack that I would come down and see him married; and when the day came I took the train, and got there about ten o'clock in the morning. I wish I hadn't. Jack met me at the station, and he told me that the wedding was to be late in the afternoon, and that they weren't going off on any silly wedding trip, he and Mamie, but were just going to walk home from her mother's house to his cottage. That was good enough for him, he said. I looked at him hard for a minute after we met. When we had parted I had a sort of idea that he might take to drink, but he hadn't. He looked very respectable and well-to-do in his black coat and high city collar; but he was thinner and bonier than when I had known him, and there were lines in his face, and I thought his eyes had a queer look in them, half shifty, half scared. He needn't have been afraid of me, for I didn't mean to talk to his bride about the _Helen B. Jackson_. He took me to his cottage first, and I could see that he was proud of it. It wasn't above a cable's-length from high-water mark, but the tide was running out, and there was already a broad stretch of hard wet sand on the other side of the beach road. Jack's bit of land ran back behind the cottage about a quarter of a mile,

How much was the insurance policy offering?

1.5million dollars

as Fate; and all the time I saw the moonlight shining on his wet oilskins. He walked him through the gate, and across the beach road, and out upon the wet sand, where the tide was high. Then I got my breath with a gulp, and ran for them across the grass, and vaulted over the fence, and stumbled across the road. But when I felt the sand under my feet, the two were at the water's edge; and when I reached the water they were far out, and up to their waists; and I saw that Jack Benton's head had fallen forward on his breast, and his free arm hung limp beside him, while his dead brother steadily marched him to his death. The moonlight was on the dark water, but the fog-bank was white beyond, and I saw them against it; and they went slowly and steadily down. The water was up to their armpits, and then up to their shoulders, and then I saw it rise up to the black rim of Jack's hat. But they never wavered; and the two heads went straight on, straight on, till they were under, and there was just a ripple in the moonlight where Jack had been. It has been on my mind to tell you that story, whenever I got a chance. You have known me, man and boy, a good many years; and I thought I would like to hear your opinion. Yes, that's what I always thought. It wasn't Jim that went overboard; it was Jack, and Jim just let him go when he might have saved him; and then Jim passed himself off for Jack with us, and with the girl. If that's what happened, he got what he deserved. People said the next day that might at this moment be a professor of Sanskrit in some American college;" for that idea persisted after his return to the United States, where he entered Harvard for special study of the subject. But from the May evening when the story of the interesting man at Simla was first told in a club smoking-room overlooking Madison Square, Mr. Crawford's life has been one of hard literary work. He returned to Italy in 1883, spent most of the next year in Constantinople, where he was married to a daughter of General Berdan. From 1885 he has made his home in Sorrento, Italy, visiting America at intervals. "Mr. Isaacs," published in 1882, was followed almost at once by "Dr. Claudius." Then _The Atlantic Monthly_ claimed a serial, "A Roman Singer," in 1883. Since that time the list of his novels has been increased to thirty-two, besides the historical and descriptive works entitled "Ave Roma Immortalis" and "The Rulers of the South." To Mr. Crawford, the development of a story and of the character which suggested it, is the preëminent thing. As the critics say:-- "He is an artist, a born story-teller and colourist, imaginative and dramatic, virile and vivid." His wide range as a traveller has contributed doubtless to another characteristic quality:-- "... his strength in unexcelled portraits of odd characters and his magical skill in seeming to make his readers witnesses of the spectacles." His intimate knowledge of many countries has resulted in an unequalled series of brilliant romances, including varied characters from the old families of Rome, the glassblowers of Venice, the silversmiths of Rome, the cigarette makers of Munich, the court of old Madrid, the Turks of Stamboul and the Bosphorus, simple sailors on the coast of Spain, Americans of modern New York and Bar Harbor, to Crusaders and he said that some of the trees we saw were his. The fences were neat and well kept, and there was a fair-sized barn a little way from the cottage, and I saw some nice-looking cattle in the meadows; but it didn't look to me to be much of a farm, and I thought that before long Jack would have to leave his wife to take care of it, and go to sea again. But I said it was a nice farm, so as to seem pleasant, and as I don't know much about these things I dare say it was, all the same. I never saw it but that once. Jack told me that he and his brother had been born in the cottage, and that when their father and mother died they leased the land to Mamie's father, but had kept the cottage to live in when they came home from sea for a spell. It was as neat a little place as you would care to see: the floors as clean as the decks of a yacht, and the paint as fresh as a man-o'-war. Jack always was a good painter. There was a nice parlour on the ground floor, and Jack had papered it and had hung the walls with photographs of ships and foreign ports, and with things he had brought home from his voyages: a boomerang, a South Sea club, Japanese straw hats and a Gibraltar fan with a bull-fight on it, and all that sort of gear. It looked to me as if Miss Mamie had taken a hand in arranging it. There was a bran-new polished iron Franklin stove set into the old fireplace, and a red table-cloth from Alexandria, embroidered with those outlandish Egyptian letters. It was all as bright were all beginning to wonder how long his grief for his dead brother was going to last like that. I watched him as he crouched down, and ran his hand into the hiding-place for the pipe. When he stood up, he had two pipes in his hand. Now, I remembered very well seeing him throw one of those pipes away, early in the morning after the gale; and it came to me now, and I didn't suppose he kept a stock of them under the anchor. I caught sight of his face, and it was greenish white, like the foam on shallow water, and he stood a long time looking at the two pipes. He wasn't looking to see which was his, for I wasn't five yards from him as he stood, and one of those pipes had been smoked that day, and was shiny where his hand had rubbed it, and the bone mouthpiece was chafed white where his teeth had bitten it. The other was water-logged. It was swelled and cracking with wet, and it looked to me as if there were a little green weed on it. Jack Benton turned his head rather stealthily as I looked away, and then he hid the thing in his trousers pocket, and went aft on the lee side, out of sight. The men had got the sheet pennant on a stretch to serve it, but I ducked under it and stood where I could see what Jack did, just under the fore-staysail. He couldn't see me, and he was looking about for something. His hand shook as he picked up a bit of half-bent iron rod, about a foot long, that had been used for turning an eye-bolt, and had been left on the main-hatch. His hand shook as he Mamie found it out as they reached the house, and that her husband just walked out into the sea, and drowned himself; and they would have blamed me for not stopping him if they'd known that I was there. But I never told what I had seen, for they wouldn't have believed me. I just let them think I had come too late. When I reached the cottage and lifted Mamie up, she was raving mad. She got better afterwards, but she was never right in her head again. Oh, you want to know if they found Jack's body? I don't know whether it was his, but I read in a paper at a Southern port where I was with my new ship that two dead bodies had come ashore in a gale down East, in pretty bad shape. They were locked together, and one was a skeleton in oilskins. Francis Marion Crawford, the youngest of the four children of the well-known sculptor Thomas Crawford, was born in Rome, educated by a French governess; then at St Paul's School, Concord, N.H.; in the quiet country village of Hatfield Regis, under an English tutor; at Trinity College, Cambridge, where they thought him a mathematician in those days; at Heidelberg and Karlsruhe, and at the University of Rome, where a special interest in Oriental languages sent him to India with the idea of preparing for a professorship. At one time in India hard times nearly forced him into enlistment in the British army, but a chance opening sent him as editor of the _Indian Herald_ to Allahabad. It was during the next eighteen months that he met at Simla the hero of his first novel, "Mr. Isaacs." "If it had not been for him," Mr. Crawford has been known to say, "I

Where was Phil the time of death?

Olympic Peninsula

might at this moment be a professor of Sanskrit in some American college;" for that idea persisted after his return to the United States, where he entered Harvard for special study of the subject. But from the May evening when the story of the interesting man at Simla was first told in a club smoking-room overlooking Madison Square, Mr. Crawford's life has been one of hard literary work. He returned to Italy in 1883, spent most of the next year in Constantinople, where he was married to a daughter of General Berdan. From 1885 he has made his home in Sorrento, Italy, visiting America at intervals. "Mr. Isaacs," published in 1882, was followed almost at once by "Dr. Claudius." Then _The Atlantic Monthly_ claimed a serial, "A Roman Singer," in 1883. Since that time the list of his novels has been increased to thirty-two, besides the historical and descriptive works entitled "Ave Roma Immortalis" and "The Rulers of the South." To Mr. Crawford, the development of a story and of the character which suggested it, is the preëminent thing. As the critics say:-- "He is an artist, a born story-teller and colourist, imaginative and dramatic, virile and vivid." His wide range as a traveller has contributed doubtless to another characteristic quality:-- "... his strength in unexcelled portraits of odd characters and his magical skill in seeming to make his readers witnesses of the spectacles." His intimate knowledge of many countries has resulted in an unequalled series of brilliant romances, including varied characters from the old families of Rome, the glassblowers of Venice, the silversmiths of Rome, the cigarette makers of Munich, the court of old Madrid, the Turks of Stamboul and the Bosphorus, simple sailors on the coast of Spain, Americans of modern New York and Bar Harbor, to Crusaders and he said that some of the trees we saw were his. The fences were neat and well kept, and there was a fair-sized barn a little way from the cottage, and I saw some nice-looking cattle in the meadows; but it didn't look to me to be much of a farm, and I thought that before long Jack would have to leave his wife to take care of it, and go to sea again. But I said it was a nice farm, so as to seem pleasant, and as I don't know much about these things I dare say it was, all the same. I never saw it but that once. Jack told me that he and his brother had been born in the cottage, and that when their father and mother died they leased the land to Mamie's father, but had kept the cottage to live in when they came home from sea for a spell. It was as neat a little place as you would care to see: the floors as clean as the decks of a yacht, and the paint as fresh as a man-o'-war. Jack always was a good painter. There was a nice parlour on the ground floor, and Jack had papered it and had hung the walls with photographs of ships and foreign ports, and with things he had brought home from his voyages: a boomerang, a South Sea club, Japanese straw hats and a Gibraltar fan with a bull-fight on it, and all that sort of gear. It looked to me as if Miss Mamie had taken a hand in arranging it. There was a bran-new polished iron Franklin stove set into the old fireplace, and a red table-cloth from Alexandria, embroidered with those outlandish Egyptian letters. It was all as bright _Helen B. Jackson_. They had been on half a dozen ships since the _Boston Belle_, and they had grown up and were good seamen. They had reddish beards and bright blue eyes and freckled faces; and they were quiet fellows, good workmen on rigging, pretty willing, and both good men at the wheel. They managed to be in the same watch--it was the port watch on the _Helen B._, and that was mine, and I had great confidence in them both. If there was any job aloft that needed two hands, they were always the first to jump into the rigging; but that doesn't often happen on a fore-and-aft schooner. If it breezed up, and the jibtopsail was to be taken in, they never minded a wetting, and they would be out at the bowsprit end before there was a hand at the downhaul. The men liked them for that, and because they didn't blow about what they could do. I remember one day in a reefing job, the downhaul parted and came down on deck from the peak of the spanker. When the weather moderated, and we shook the reefs out, the downhaul was forgotten until we happened to think we might soon need it again. There was some sea on, and the boom was off and the gaff was slamming. One of those Benton boys was at the wheel, and before I knew what he was doing, the other was out on the gaff with the end of the new downhaul, trying to reeve it through its block. The one who was steering watched him, and got as white as cheese. The other one was swinging about on the gaff end, and every time she rolled to leeward he brought up with a jerk that would have sent were all beginning to wonder how long his grief for his dead brother was going to last like that. I watched him as he crouched down, and ran his hand into the hiding-place for the pipe. When he stood up, he had two pipes in his hand. Now, I remembered very well seeing him throw one of those pipes away, early in the morning after the gale; and it came to me now, and I didn't suppose he kept a stock of them under the anchor. I caught sight of his face, and it was greenish white, like the foam on shallow water, and he stood a long time looking at the two pipes. He wasn't looking to see which was his, for I wasn't five yards from him as he stood, and one of those pipes had been smoked that day, and was shiny where his hand had rubbed it, and the bone mouthpiece was chafed white where his teeth had bitten it. The other was water-logged. It was swelled and cracking with wet, and it looked to me as if there were a little green weed on it. Jack Benton turned his head rather stealthily as I looked away, and then he hid the thing in his trousers pocket, and went aft on the lee side, out of sight. The men had got the sheet pennant on a stretch to serve it, but I ducked under it and stood where I could see what Jack did, just under the fore-staysail. He couldn't see me, and he was looking about for something. His hand shook as he picked up a bit of half-bent iron rod, about a foot long, that had been used for turning an eye-bolt, and had been left on the main-hatch. His hand shook as he got used to him since he had given up the sea and had stayed ashore, and she cared for him. Before long we heard Jack coming up behind us, for we had walked very slowly to wait for him. "Promise not to tell anybody what I said, captain," said Mamie, as girls do as soon as they have told their secrets. Anyhow, I know I never did tell any one but you. This is the first time I have talked of all that, the first time since I took the train from that place. I am not going to tell you all about the day. Miss Mamie introduced me to her mother, who was a quiet, hard-faced old New England farmer's widow, and to her cousins and relations; and there were plenty of them too at dinner, and there was the parson besides. He was what they call a Hard-shell Baptist in those parts, with a long, shaven upper lip and a whacking appetite, and a sort of superior look, as if he didn't expect to see many of us hereafter--the way a New York pilot looks round, and orders things about when he boards an Italian cargo-dragger, as if the ship weren't up to much anyway, though it was his business to see that she didn't get aground. That's the way a good many parsons look, I think. He said grace as if he were ordering the men to sheet home the topgallant-sail and get the helm up. After dinner we went out on the piazza, for it was warm autumn weather; and the young folks went off in pairs along the beach road, and the tide had turned and was beginning to come in. The morning had been clear and fine, but by four o'clock it began to

Who did Phil become?

An 8 year old boy Harold Stegeman

might at this moment be a professor of Sanskrit in some American college;" for that idea persisted after his return to the United States, where he entered Harvard for special study of the subject. But from the May evening when the story of the interesting man at Simla was first told in a club smoking-room overlooking Madison Square, Mr. Crawford's life has been one of hard literary work. He returned to Italy in 1883, spent most of the next year in Constantinople, where he was married to a daughter of General Berdan. From 1885 he has made his home in Sorrento, Italy, visiting America at intervals. "Mr. Isaacs," published in 1882, was followed almost at once by "Dr. Claudius." Then _The Atlantic Monthly_ claimed a serial, "A Roman Singer," in 1883. Since that time the list of his novels has been increased to thirty-two, besides the historical and descriptive works entitled "Ave Roma Immortalis" and "The Rulers of the South." To Mr. Crawford, the development of a story and of the character which suggested it, is the preëminent thing. As the critics say:-- "He is an artist, a born story-teller and colourist, imaginative and dramatic, virile and vivid." His wide range as a traveller has contributed doubtless to another characteristic quality:-- "... his strength in unexcelled portraits of odd characters and his magical skill in seeming to make his readers witnesses of the spectacles." His intimate knowledge of many countries has resulted in an unequalled series of brilliant romances, including varied characters from the old families of Rome, the glassblowers of Venice, the silversmiths of Rome, the cigarette makers of Munich, the court of old Madrid, the Turks of Stamboul and the Bosphorus, simple sailors on the coast of Spain, Americans of modern New York and Bar Harbor, to Crusaders and he said that some of the trees we saw were his. The fences were neat and well kept, and there was a fair-sized barn a little way from the cottage, and I saw some nice-looking cattle in the meadows; but it didn't look to me to be much of a farm, and I thought that before long Jack would have to leave his wife to take care of it, and go to sea again. But I said it was a nice farm, so as to seem pleasant, and as I don't know much about these things I dare say it was, all the same. I never saw it but that once. Jack told me that he and his brother had been born in the cottage, and that when their father and mother died they leased the land to Mamie's father, but had kept the cottage to live in when they came home from sea for a spell. It was as neat a little place as you would care to see: the floors as clean as the decks of a yacht, and the paint as fresh as a man-o'-war. Jack always was a good painter. There was a nice parlour on the ground floor, and Jack had papered it and had hung the walls with photographs of ships and foreign ports, and with things he had brought home from his voyages: a boomerang, a South Sea club, Japanese straw hats and a Gibraltar fan with a bull-fight on it, and all that sort of gear. It looked to me as if Miss Mamie had taken a hand in arranging it. There was a bran-new polished iron Franklin stove set into the old fireplace, and a red table-cloth from Alexandria, embroidered with those outlandish Egyptian letters. It was all as bright were all beginning to wonder how long his grief for his dead brother was going to last like that. I watched him as he crouched down, and ran his hand into the hiding-place for the pipe. When he stood up, he had two pipes in his hand. Now, I remembered very well seeing him throw one of those pipes away, early in the morning after the gale; and it came to me now, and I didn't suppose he kept a stock of them under the anchor. I caught sight of his face, and it was greenish white, like the foam on shallow water, and he stood a long time looking at the two pipes. He wasn't looking to see which was his, for I wasn't five yards from him as he stood, and one of those pipes had been smoked that day, and was shiny where his hand had rubbed it, and the bone mouthpiece was chafed white where his teeth had bitten it. The other was water-logged. It was swelled and cracking with wet, and it looked to me as if there were a little green weed on it. Jack Benton turned his head rather stealthily as I looked away, and then he hid the thing in his trousers pocket, and went aft on the lee side, out of sight. The men had got the sheet pennant on a stretch to serve it, but I ducked under it and stood where I could see what Jack did, just under the fore-staysail. He couldn't see me, and he was looking about for something. His hand shook as he picked up a bit of half-bent iron rod, about a foot long, that had been used for turning an eye-bolt, and had been left on the main-hatch. His hand shook as he Mamie found it out as they reached the house, and that her husband just walked out into the sea, and drowned himself; and they would have blamed me for not stopping him if they'd known that I was there. But I never told what I had seen, for they wouldn't have believed me. I just let them think I had come too late. When I reached the cottage and lifted Mamie up, she was raving mad. She got better afterwards, but she was never right in her head again. Oh, you want to know if they found Jack's body? I don't know whether it was his, but I read in a paper at a Southern port where I was with my new ship that two dead bodies had come ashore in a gale down East, in pretty bad shape. They were locked together, and one was a skeleton in oilskins. Francis Marion Crawford, the youngest of the four children of the well-known sculptor Thomas Crawford, was born in Rome, educated by a French governess; then at St Paul's School, Concord, N.H.; in the quiet country village of Hatfield Regis, under an English tutor; at Trinity College, Cambridge, where they thought him a mathematician in those days; at Heidelberg and Karlsruhe, and at the University of Rome, where a special interest in Oriental languages sent him to India with the idea of preparing for a professorship. At one time in India hard times nearly forced him into enlistment in the British army, but a chance opening sent him as editor of the _Indian Herald_ to Allahabad. It was during the next eighteen months that he met at Simla the hero of his first novel, "Mr. Isaacs." "If it had not been for him," Mr. Crawford has been known to say, "I doctor gave him a thundering big piece of pie to finish up with, and when he had finished he didn't stop for a smoke, but went off quick to relieve the wheel. Just as he had gone, the doctor came in from the galley, and when he saw Jack's empty plate he stood stock still staring at it; and we all wondered what was the matter, till we looked at the plate. There were two forks in it, sir, lying side by side. Then the doctor grabbed his knife, and flew up through the hatch like a rocket. The other fork was there all right, Mr. Torkeldsen, for we all saw it and handled it; and we all had our own. That's all I know." I didn't feel that I wanted to laugh when he told me that story; but I hoped the old man wouldn't hear it, for I knew he wouldn't believe it, and no captain that ever sailed likes to have stories like that going round about his ship. It gives her a bad name. But that was all anybody ever saw except the cook, and he isn't the first man who has thought he saw things without having any drink in him. I think, if the doctor had been weak in the head as he was afterwards, he might have done something foolish again, and there might have been serious trouble. But he didn't. Only, two or three times I saw him looking at Jack Benton in a queer, scared way, and once I heard him talking to himself. "There's two of them! So help me God, there's two of them!" He didn't say anything more about asking for his discharge, but I knew well enough that if he got ashore at the next port we

What year did Phil die?

1982

grabbed hold of his knife-hand and the other too, for I thought he was going to use the pin; but Jack Benton was standing staring stupidly at him, as if he didn't understand. But instead, the cook was holding on because he couldn't stand, and his teeth were chattering, and he let go of the knife, and the point stuck into the deck. "He's crazy!" said Jack Benton, and that was all he said; and he went aft. When he was gone, the cook began to come to, and he spoke quite low, near my ear. "There were two of them! So help me God, there were two of them!" I don't know why I didn't take him by the collar, and give him a good shaking; but I didn't. I just picked up the knife and gave it to him, and told him to go back to his galley, and not to make a fool of himself. You see, he hadn't struck at Jack, but at something he thought he saw, and I knew what it was, and I felt that same thing, like a lump of ice sliding down my back, that I felt that night when we were bending the trysail. When the men had seen him running aft, they jumped up after him, but they held off when they saw that I had caught him. By and by, the man who had spoken to me before told me what had happened. He was a stocky little chap, with a red head. "Well," he said, "there isn't much to tell. Jack Benton had been eating his supper with the rest of us. He always sits at the after corner of the table, on the port side. His brother used to sit at the end, next him. The I slept ten hours without opening my eyes. I stuck to the _Helen B. Jackson_ after that as long as I could stand a fore-and-after; but that night when we lay in Havana was the last time I ever heard "Nancy Lee" on board of her. The spare hand had gone ashore with the rest, and he never came back, and he took his tune with him; but all those things are just as clear in my memory as if they had happened yesterday. After that I was in deep water for a year or more, and after I came home I got my certificate, and what with having friends and having saved a little money, and having had a small legacy from an uncle in Norway, I got the command of a coastwise vessel, with a small share in her. I was at home three weeks before going to sea, and Jack Benton saw my name in the local papers, and wrote to me. He said that he had left the sea, and was trying farming, and he was going to be married, and he asked if I wouldn't come over for that, for it wasn't more than forty minutes by train; and he and Mamie would be proud to have me at the wedding. I remembered how I had heard one brother ask the other whether Mamie knew. That meant, whether she knew he wanted to marry her, I suppose. She had taken her time about it, for it was pretty nearly three years then since we had lost Jim Benton overboard. I had nothing particular to do while we were getting ready for sea; nothing to prevent me from going over for a day, I mean; and I thought I'd like to see Jack Benton, and have were all beginning to wonder how long his grief for his dead brother was going to last like that. I watched him as he crouched down, and ran his hand into the hiding-place for the pipe. When he stood up, he had two pipes in his hand. Now, I remembered very well seeing him throw one of those pipes away, early in the morning after the gale; and it came to me now, and I didn't suppose he kept a stock of them under the anchor. I caught sight of his face, and it was greenish white, like the foam on shallow water, and he stood a long time looking at the two pipes. He wasn't looking to see which was his, for I wasn't five yards from him as he stood, and one of those pipes had been smoked that day, and was shiny where his hand had rubbed it, and the bone mouthpiece was chafed white where his teeth had bitten it. The other was water-logged. It was swelled and cracking with wet, and it looked to me as if there were a little green weed on it. Jack Benton turned his head rather stealthily as I looked away, and then he hid the thing in his trousers pocket, and went aft on the lee side, out of sight. The men had got the sheet pennant on a stretch to serve it, but I ducked under it and stood where I could see what Jack did, just under the fore-staysail. He couldn't see me, and he was looking about for something. His hand shook as he picked up a bit of half-bent iron rod, about a foot long, that had been used for turning an eye-bolt, and had been left on the main-hatch. His hand shook as he a great misfortune, he said, and it was nobody's fault. We had lost a man we all liked and respected, and he felt that everybody in the ship ought to be sorry for the man's brother, who was left behind, and that it was rotten lubberly childishness, and unjust and unmanly and cowardly, to be playing schoolboy tricks with forks and spoons and pipes, and that sort of gear. He said it had got to stop right now, and that was all, and the men might go forward. And so they did. It got worse after that, and the men watched the cook, and the cook watched the men, as if they were trying to catch each other; but I think everybody felt that there was something else. One evening, at supper-time, I was on deck, and Jack came aft to relieve the wheel while the man who was steering got his supper. He hadn't got past the main-hatch on the lee side, when I heard a man running in slippers that slapped on the deck, and there was a sort of a yell and I saw the coloured cook going for Jack, with a carving-knife in his hand. I jumped to get between them, and Jack turned round short, and put out his hand. I was too far to reach them, and the cook jabbed out with his knife. But the blade didn't get anywhere near Benton. The cook seemed to be jabbing it into the air again and again, at least four feet short of the mark. Then he dropped his right hand, and I saw the whites of his eyes in the dusk, and he reeled up against the pin-rail, and caught hold of a belaying-pin with his left. I had reached him by that time, and of them afterwards thought that might have had something to do with it, but I had all that nonsense knocked out of me when I was a boy. I don't mean to say that I like to go to sea on a Friday, but I _have_ gone to sea on a Friday, and nothing has happened; and twice before that we have been thirteen, because one of the hands didn't turn up at the last minute, and nothing ever happened either--nothing worse than the loss of a light spar or two, or a little canvas. Whenever I have been wrecked, we had sailed as cheerily as you please--no thirteens, no Fridays, no dead men in the hold. I believe it generally happens that way. I dare say you remember those two Benton boys that were so much alike? It is no wonder, for they were twin brothers. They shipped with us as boys on the old _Boston Belle_, when you were mate and I was before the mast. I never was quite sure which was which of those two, even then; and when they both had beards it was harder than ever to tell them apart. One was Jim, and the other was Jack; James Benton and John Benton. The only difference I ever could see was, that one seemed to be rather more cheerful and inclined to talk than the other; but one couldn't even be sure of that. Perhaps they had moods. Anyhow, there was one of them that used to whistle when he was alone. He only knew one tune, and that was "Nancy Lee," and the other didn't know any tune at all; but I may be mistaken about that, too. Perhaps they both knew it. Well, those two Benton boys turned up on board the

How did Phil go to prison?

Counterfeiting U.S. currency in an Idaho garage

grabbed hold of his knife-hand and the other too, for I thought he was going to use the pin; but Jack Benton was standing staring stupidly at him, as if he didn't understand. But instead, the cook was holding on because he couldn't stand, and his teeth were chattering, and he let go of the knife, and the point stuck into the deck. "He's crazy!" said Jack Benton, and that was all he said; and he went aft. When he was gone, the cook began to come to, and he spoke quite low, near my ear. "There were two of them! So help me God, there were two of them!" I don't know why I didn't take him by the collar, and give him a good shaking; but I didn't. I just picked up the knife and gave it to him, and told him to go back to his galley, and not to make a fool of himself. You see, he hadn't struck at Jack, but at something he thought he saw, and I knew what it was, and I felt that same thing, like a lump of ice sliding down my back, that I felt that night when we were bending the trysail. When the men had seen him running aft, they jumped up after him, but they held off when they saw that I had caught him. By and by, the man who had spoken to me before told me what had happened. He was a stocky little chap, with a red head. "Well," he said, "there isn't much to tell. Jack Benton had been eating his supper with the rest of us. He always sits at the after corner of the table, on the port side. His brother used to sit at the end, next him. The were all beginning to wonder how long his grief for his dead brother was going to last like that. I watched him as he crouched down, and ran his hand into the hiding-place for the pipe. When he stood up, he had two pipes in his hand. Now, I remembered very well seeing him throw one of those pipes away, early in the morning after the gale; and it came to me now, and I didn't suppose he kept a stock of them under the anchor. I caught sight of his face, and it was greenish white, like the foam on shallow water, and he stood a long time looking at the two pipes. He wasn't looking to see which was his, for I wasn't five yards from him as he stood, and one of those pipes had been smoked that day, and was shiny where his hand had rubbed it, and the bone mouthpiece was chafed white where his teeth had bitten it. The other was water-logged. It was swelled and cracking with wet, and it looked to me as if there were a little green weed on it. Jack Benton turned his head rather stealthily as I looked away, and then he hid the thing in his trousers pocket, and went aft on the lee side, out of sight. The men had got the sheet pennant on a stretch to serve it, but I ducked under it and stood where I could see what Jack did, just under the fore-staysail. He couldn't see me, and he was looking about for something. His hand shook as he picked up a bit of half-bent iron rod, about a foot long, that had been used for turning an eye-bolt, and had been left on the main-hatch. His hand shook as he a great misfortune, he said, and it was nobody's fault. We had lost a man we all liked and respected, and he felt that everybody in the ship ought to be sorry for the man's brother, who was left behind, and that it was rotten lubberly childishness, and unjust and unmanly and cowardly, to be playing schoolboy tricks with forks and spoons and pipes, and that sort of gear. He said it had got to stop right now, and that was all, and the men might go forward. And so they did. It got worse after that, and the men watched the cook, and the cook watched the men, as if they were trying to catch each other; but I think everybody felt that there was something else. One evening, at supper-time, I was on deck, and Jack came aft to relieve the wheel while the man who was steering got his supper. He hadn't got past the main-hatch on the lee side, when I heard a man running in slippers that slapped on the deck, and there was a sort of a yell and I saw the coloured cook going for Jack, with a carving-knife in his hand. I jumped to get between them, and Jack turned round short, and put out his hand. I was too far to reach them, and the cook jabbed out with his knife. But the blade didn't get anywhere near Benton. The cook seemed to be jabbing it into the air again and again, at least four feet short of the mark. Then he dropped his right hand, and I saw the whites of his eyes in the dusk, and he reeled up against the pin-rail, and caught hold of a belaying-pin with his left. I had reached him by that time, and on cleaning the brass cogwheels of the patent log and oiling the bearings with a feather. "Wouldn't it be better to wash it out with boiling water, sir?" asked the cook, in an insinuating tone. He knew that he had made a fool of himself, and was anxious to make it right again. I heard no more about the odd platter and gear for two or three days, though I thought about his story a good deal. The doctor evidently believed that Jim Benton had come back, though he didn't quite like to say so. His story had sounded silly enough on a bright afternoon, in fair weather, when the sun was on the water, and every rag was drawing in the breeze, and the sea looked as pleasant and harmless as a cat that has just eaten a canary. But when it was toward the end of the first watch, and the waning moon had not risen yet, and the water was like still oil, and the jibs hung down flat and helpless like the wings of a dead bird--it wasn't the same then. More than once I have started then, and looked round when a fish jumped, expecting to see a face sticking up out of the water with its eyes shut. I think we all felt something like that at the time. One afternoon we were putting a fresh service on the jib-sheet-pennant. It wasn't my watch, but I was standing by looking on. Just then Jack Benton came up from below, and went to look for his pipe under the anchor. His face was hard and drawn, and his eyes were cold like steel balls. He hardly ever spoke now, but he did his duty as usual, and nobody had to complain of him, though we of them afterwards thought that might have had something to do with it, but I had all that nonsense knocked out of me when I was a boy. I don't mean to say that I like to go to sea on a Friday, but I _have_ gone to sea on a Friday, and nothing has happened; and twice before that we have been thirteen, because one of the hands didn't turn up at the last minute, and nothing ever happened either--nothing worse than the loss of a light spar or two, or a little canvas. Whenever I have been wrecked, we had sailed as cheerily as you please--no thirteens, no Fridays, no dead men in the hold. I believe it generally happens that way. I dare say you remember those two Benton boys that were so much alike? It is no wonder, for they were twin brothers. They shipped with us as boys on the old _Boston Belle_, when you were mate and I was before the mast. I never was quite sure which was which of those two, even then; and when they both had beards it was harder than ever to tell them apart. One was Jim, and the other was Jack; James Benton and John Benton. The only difference I ever could see was, that one seemed to be rather more cheerful and inclined to talk than the other; but one couldn't even be sure of that. Perhaps they had moods. Anyhow, there was one of them that used to whistle when he was alone. He only knew one tune, and that was "Nancy Lee," and the other didn't know any tune at all; but I may be mistaken about that, too. Perhaps they both knew it. Well, those two Benton boys turned up on board the

Why did Phil go to prison?

He went for counterfeiting and passport fraud

grabbed hold of his knife-hand and the other too, for I thought he was going to use the pin; but Jack Benton was standing staring stupidly at him, as if he didn't understand. But instead, the cook was holding on because he couldn't stand, and his teeth were chattering, and he let go of the knife, and the point stuck into the deck. "He's crazy!" said Jack Benton, and that was all he said; and he went aft. When he was gone, the cook began to come to, and he spoke quite low, near my ear. "There were two of them! So help me God, there were two of them!" I don't know why I didn't take him by the collar, and give him a good shaking; but I didn't. I just picked up the knife and gave it to him, and told him to go back to his galley, and not to make a fool of himself. You see, he hadn't struck at Jack, but at something he thought he saw, and I knew what it was, and I felt that same thing, like a lump of ice sliding down my back, that I felt that night when we were bending the trysail. When the men had seen him running aft, they jumped up after him, but they held off when they saw that I had caught him. By and by, the man who had spoken to me before told me what had happened. He was a stocky little chap, with a red head. "Well," he said, "there isn't much to tell. Jack Benton had been eating his supper with the rest of us. He always sits at the after corner of the table, on the port side. His brother used to sit at the end, next him. The I slept ten hours without opening my eyes. I stuck to the _Helen B. Jackson_ after that as long as I could stand a fore-and-after; but that night when we lay in Havana was the last time I ever heard "Nancy Lee" on board of her. The spare hand had gone ashore with the rest, and he never came back, and he took his tune with him; but all those things are just as clear in my memory as if they had happened yesterday. After that I was in deep water for a year or more, and after I came home I got my certificate, and what with having friends and having saved a little money, and having had a small legacy from an uncle in Norway, I got the command of a coastwise vessel, with a small share in her. I was at home three weeks before going to sea, and Jack Benton saw my name in the local papers, and wrote to me. He said that he had left the sea, and was trying farming, and he was going to be married, and he asked if I wouldn't come over for that, for it wasn't more than forty minutes by train; and he and Mamie would be proud to have me at the wedding. I remembered how I had heard one brother ask the other whether Mamie knew. That meant, whether she knew he wanted to marry her, I suppose. She had taken her time about it, for it was pretty nearly three years then since we had lost Jim Benton overboard. I had nothing particular to do while we were getting ready for sea; nothing to prevent me from going over for a day, I mean; and I thought I'd like to see Jack Benton, and have were all beginning to wonder how long his grief for his dead brother was going to last like that. I watched him as he crouched down, and ran his hand into the hiding-place for the pipe. When he stood up, he had two pipes in his hand. Now, I remembered very well seeing him throw one of those pipes away, early in the morning after the gale; and it came to me now, and I didn't suppose he kept a stock of them under the anchor. I caught sight of his face, and it was greenish white, like the foam on shallow water, and he stood a long time looking at the two pipes. He wasn't looking to see which was his, for I wasn't five yards from him as he stood, and one of those pipes had been smoked that day, and was shiny where his hand had rubbed it, and the bone mouthpiece was chafed white where his teeth had bitten it. The other was water-logged. It was swelled and cracking with wet, and it looked to me as if there were a little green weed on it. Jack Benton turned his head rather stealthily as I looked away, and then he hid the thing in his trousers pocket, and went aft on the lee side, out of sight. The men had got the sheet pennant on a stretch to serve it, but I ducked under it and stood where I could see what Jack did, just under the fore-staysail. He couldn't see me, and he was looking about for something. His hand shook as he picked up a bit of half-bent iron rod, about a foot long, that had been used for turning an eye-bolt, and had been left on the main-hatch. His hand shook as he will. Jack Benton was the last to go over the side, and he stood still a minute and looked at me, and his white face twitched. I thought he wanted to say something. "Take care of yourself, Jack," said I. "So long!" It seemed as if he couldn't speak for two or three seconds; then his words came thick. "It wasn't my fault, Mr. Torkeldsen. I swear it wasn't my fault!" That was all; and he dropped over the side, leaving me to wonder what he meant. The captain and I stayed on board, and the ship-chandler got a West India boy to cook for us. That evening, before turning in, we were standing by the rail having a quiet smoke, watching the lights of the city, a quarter of a mile off, reflected in the still water. There was music of some sort ashore, in a sailors' dance-house, I dare say; and I had no doubt that most of the men who had left the ship were there, and already full of jiggy-jiggy. The music played a lot of sailors' tunes that ran into each other, and we could hear the men's voices in the chorus now and then. One followed another, and then it was "Nancy Lee," loud and clear, and the men singing "Yo-ho, heave-ho!" "I have no ear for music," said Captain Hackstaff, "but it appears to me that's the tune that man was whistling the night we lost the man overboard. I don't know why it has stuck in my head, and of course it's all nonsense; but it seems to me that I have heard it all the rest of the trip." I didn't say anything to that, but I wondered just how much the old man had understood. Then we turned in, and _Helen B. Jackson_. They had been on half a dozen ships since the _Boston Belle_, and they had grown up and were good seamen. They had reddish beards and bright blue eyes and freckled faces; and they were quiet fellows, good workmen on rigging, pretty willing, and both good men at the wheel. They managed to be in the same watch--it was the port watch on the _Helen B._, and that was mine, and I had great confidence in them both. If there was any job aloft that needed two hands, they were always the first to jump into the rigging; but that doesn't often happen on a fore-and-aft schooner. If it breezed up, and the jibtopsail was to be taken in, they never minded a wetting, and they would be out at the bowsprit end before there was a hand at the downhaul. The men liked them for that, and because they didn't blow about what they could do. I remember one day in a reefing job, the downhaul parted and came down on deck from the peak of the spanker. When the weather moderated, and we shook the reefs out, the downhaul was forgotten until we happened to think we might soon need it again. There was some sea on, and the boom was off and the gaff was slamming. One of those Benton boys was at the wheel, and before I knew what he was doing, the other was out on the gaff with the end of the new downhaul, trying to reeve it through its block. The one who was steering watched him, and got as white as cheese. The other one was swinging about on the gaff end, and every time she rolled to leeward he brought up with a jerk that would have sent

How big was the boat?

45 foot yacht

ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. now that Baldy's gone. Jack gets one leg free, KICKS, knocks Flat-top backwards -- Flat-Top SLAMS the wall, falls. Redhead lets go of one of Jack's arms, jams his elbow into Jack's throat... cutting off the airway. Jack's face reddens... he's choking... Jack's free hand reaches, searching.. pulls Redhead's GUN and points it at him. Redhead backs off. Jack gets up, gasping for air, PISTOL-WHIPS Flat-top as he rises. Jack grabs one of the files off the table. Jack runs to the BOMB, frantic. He walks around it. There's a DIGITAL CLOCK, ticking down from "10:05"... Jack moves to pull the lid off one CANISTER, looks inside.. Jack looks -- Tyler's seated, his back against one post. Tyler gets up walks to Jack. Tyler keeps walking around, crosses his arms. Jack looks back to the BOMB, goes to it, wipes sweat off his face. He starts finger the MANY WIRES, sorting them. Jack holds his gun under one armpit, uses both hands to go through the tangle of colored wires. Jack chooses one wire, GREEN, holds it in his fingers. Jack twists the GREEN WIRE around his finger. Tyler comes a little closer, leaning to try to get a look, seems genuinely concerned. Jack's unsure, swallowing, pulling the wire taunt, fingers trembling. The SOUND of a VEHICLE is HEARD from below... Jack looks to Tyler. Tyler points towards the SOUND... Jack releases the wire, walks to a RAILING, gun in hand, keeps an eye on Tyler. Jack looks over the railing... BELOW, a BUS idles. The doors open and MARLA'S dragged out, kicking and screaming, carried by SIX SPACE MONKEYS... They carry Marla into the BUILDING'S ENTRANCE. Jack leans against the railing, exhausted. Tyler thinks, shrugs. Tyler's walks away. Jack Jack looks to the TV -- it shows a LIVE shot of the "PARKER MORRIS BUILDING." The building has a GIANT, GRINNING FACE PAINTED on it -- two BROKEN WINDOWS for EYES, with flames pouring out... FIRETRUCKS spray water. COMMISSIONER JACOBS, a wrinkled official, turns to camera. Jack turns, sees Tyler in the archway, watching him. Tyler tips his beer to toast, pulls back, out of sight. They all BURST INTO LAUGHTER. They look at Jack and shake their heads. Jack doesn't get it. Suddenly, the guys' faces turn to stone. Bob sits rigid. Jack stares at them. Ricky produces a KNIFE, moves it down to Jacob's testicles. Jacobs is bug-eyed. Jack, red-faced, keeps his distance. TYLER (cont) We do your laundry, cook your food and serve you dinner. We guard you while you sleep. We drive your ambulances. Do not fuck with us. Ricky makes a dramatic cut with the knife, causing Jacobs to JUMP -- Ricky holds up the severed RUBBER BAND. Jack sees this, his eyes narrowing, stops walking. The crowd shouts maniacally, save Tyler, who watches with an inscrutable stone face. Angel Face tries to speak, but Jack POUNDS too hard. Blood flies. The crowd begins to grow QUIETER. Finally, Angel Face lies still, unconscious. Jack stops, stares down, numb. Jack walks away -- the crowd parts to let him pass. Jack scans faces... finds Tyler. Tyler shrugs; turns on the RADIO, ignores Jack. Tyler steers the car into the opposite lane, accelerates... Opposing HEADLIGHTS get closer fast... Tyler steers back into the proper lane. The other CAR flies past, HORN SOUNDING... Tyler again steers into the oncoming lane, speeding up. Through the windshield: oncoming headlights -- a TRUCK. Jack

What does the unnamed Narrator do for a living?

The Narrator is a traveling automobile recall specialist.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks getting to his feet, sees the gun, annoyed. Jack stands. Jack SHOOTS TWICE. Bullets pass right thorough Tyler. Tyler just rolls his eyes, drops the walkie-talkie to the floor and STOMPS on it, CRUSHING it. Jack falters, pointing at Tyler's feet. There's no walkie- talkie there. Jack looks down, sees the WALKIE-TALKIE CRUSHED under his own foot. Jack holds his head, walks around, at his wit's end. Jack backs up against a window, numb and weary. Jack stares at Tyler, tears welling up, hangs his head. He looks at the gun in his hand... Jack stares at the gun a long time... then... Jack brings the gun up, PUTS THE GUN IN HIS MOUTH. Tyler cocks his head. Tyler is calm. Tyler smiles in appreciation, slowly walks forward, stands very close to Jack. Jack COCKS the hammer on the gun. Their eyes are locked, unblinking. Long silence. KABLAM! -- Jack's cheeks INFLATE with gas. His eyes bulge. BLOOD flies out from his head. The WINDOW behind him SHATTERS. SMOKE wafts out of his mouth and tear ducts. Tyler stands, in gunsmoke, eyes glazed, sniffs the air... Jack slumps to the floor... Tyler falls... Tyler hits the ground. The back of TYLER'S HEAD is BLOWN OPEN, revealing blood, skull and brain. Suddenly, a GROUP of SPACE MONKEYS burst into the room, moving forward to Jack. TYLER'S BODY IS GONE. Jack quakes, holding the side of his head; a ragged hole blown in his CHEEK. He's bleeding hard, but he's alive. Jack looks to the Space Monkeys, trying to get his eyes to see. TWO SPACE MONKEYS enter with Marla. One holds a gun to Marla as she struggles. Jack sees Marla, tries to get to his feet, falls... The Monkeys bring Marla, releasing her, saluting. Marla crouches, takes out wadded TISSUES and tries to apply. them to Jack's wound. Space Monkeys are leaving, hesitantly. Jack and Marla are left alone. Jack tries to got up. Marla helps him. MASSIVE EXPLOSION... the glass walls rattle... Jack and Marla look -- OUT THE WINDOWS: a BUILDING EXPLODES; collapsing upon itself. Then, ANOTHER BUILDING IMPLODES into a massive cloud of dust. Jack and Marla are silhouetted against the SKYLINE. Jack looks to Marla, reaches to take her hand. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's they can buy shit they don't need. We are the middle children of history, with no purpose or place. We have no great war, or great depression. The great war is a spiritual war. The great depression is our lives. We were raised by television to believe that we'd be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars -- but we won't. And we're learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed-off. The crowd erupts into a DEAFENING CHORUS of agreement. Jack looks at the blazing excitement in the eyes of the crowd. A fat, MIDDLE-AGED MAN stomps down the stairs, pushing into the crowd, followed by a TALL, HEFTY THUG who holds a GUM. Tyler extends his hand for a shake, but Lou SLAPS it away. Everyone glances guiltily at each other. Lou SLUGS Tyler in the stomach, doubles him over. Tyler gains his breath, determined. He looks up, turns his head, looking to Jack. Jack watches, wide-eyed. Tyler straightens, facing Lou. Lou PUNCHES Tyler in the face. Some of the guys move forward, but the Thug points his gun. Jack-runs forward anyway -- Lou PUNCHES him in the face. More guys move forward, but Tyler waves them off, facing Lou. Lou proceeds to beat the shit out of Tyler, PUNCHING his face, his stomach. Tyler collapses to the floor. Lou starts KICKING his. Tyler bleeds from the mouth and face. Lou flushes red with exasperation, KICKS more. Finally, sweating, bewildered, Lou stops. He looks to the Thug, who is just as bewildered. Suddenly, Tyler SPRINGS UP, grabs onto Lou... Tyler's blood spatters on Lou. Lou tries to shake Tyler off, but Tyler BITES Lou's NECKTIE. The Thug grabs Tyler and pulls, the his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes.

In the story, the unnamed Narrator visits a support group, who is the support group for?

Testicular Cancer victims.

getting to his feet, sees the gun, annoyed. Jack stands. Jack SHOOTS TWICE. Bullets pass right thorough Tyler. Tyler just rolls his eyes, drops the walkie-talkie to the floor and STOMPS on it, CRUSHING it. Jack falters, pointing at Tyler's feet. There's no walkie- talkie there. Jack looks down, sees the WALKIE-TALKIE CRUSHED under his own foot. Jack holds his head, walks around, at his wit's end. Jack backs up against a window, numb and weary. Jack stares at Tyler, tears welling up, hangs his head. He looks at the gun in his hand... Jack stares at the gun a long time... then... Jack brings the gun up, PUTS THE GUN IN HIS MOUTH. Tyler cocks his head. Tyler is calm. Tyler smiles in appreciation, slowly walks forward, stands very close to Jack. Jack COCKS the hammer on the gun. Their eyes are locked, unblinking. Long silence. KABLAM! -- Jack's cheeks INFLATE with gas. His eyes bulge. BLOOD flies out from his head. The WINDOW behind him SHATTERS. SMOKE wafts out of his mouth and tear ducts. Tyler stands, in gunsmoke, eyes glazed, sniffs the air... Jack slumps to the floor... Tyler falls... Tyler hits the ground. The back of TYLER'S HEAD is BLOWN OPEN, revealing blood, skull and brain. Suddenly, a GROUP of SPACE MONKEYS burst into the room, moving forward to Jack. TYLER'S BODY IS GONE. Jack quakes, holding the side of his head; a ragged hole blown in his CHEEK. He's bleeding hard, but he's alive. Jack looks to the Space Monkeys, trying to get his eyes to see. TWO SPACE MONKEYS enter with Marla. One holds a gun to Marla as she struggles. Jack sees Marla, tries to get to his feet, falls... The Monkeys bring Marla, releasing her, saluting. Marla crouches, takes out wadded TISSUES and tries to apply. them to Jack's wound. Space Monkeys are leaving, hesitantly. Jack and Marla are left alone. Jack tries to got up. Marla helps him. MASSIVE EXPLOSION... the glass walls rattle... Jack and Marla look -- OUT THE WINDOWS: a BUILDING EXPLODES; collapsing upon itself. Then, ANOTHER BUILDING IMPLODES into a massive cloud of dust. Jack and Marla are silhouetted against the SKYLINE. Jack looks to Marla, reaches to take her hand. they can buy shit they don't need. We are the middle children of history, with no purpose or place. We have no great war, or great depression. The great war is a spiritual war. The great depression is our lives. We were raised by television to believe that we'd be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars -- but we won't. And we're learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed-off. The crowd erupts into a DEAFENING CHORUS of agreement. Jack looks at the blazing excitement in the eyes of the crowd. A fat, MIDDLE-AGED MAN stomps down the stairs, pushing into the crowd, followed by a TALL, HEFTY THUG who holds a GUM. Tyler extends his hand for a shake, but Lou SLAPS it away. Everyone glances guiltily at each other. Lou SLUGS Tyler in the stomach, doubles him over. Tyler gains his breath, determined. He looks up, turns his head, looking to Jack. Jack watches, wide-eyed. Tyler straightens, facing Lou. Lou PUNCHES Tyler in the face. Some of the guys move forward, but the Thug points his gun. Jack-runs forward anyway -- Lou PUNCHES him in the face. More guys move forward, but Tyler waves them off, facing Lou. Lou proceeds to beat the shit out of Tyler, PUNCHING his face, his stomach. Tyler collapses to the floor. Lou starts KICKING his. Tyler bleeds from the mouth and face. Lou flushes red with exasperation, KICKS more. Finally, sweating, bewildered, Lou stops. He looks to the Thug, who is just as bewildered. Suddenly, Tyler SPRINGS UP, grabs onto Lou... Tyler's blood spatters on Lou. Lou tries to shake Tyler off, but Tyler BITES Lou's NECKTIE. The Thug grabs Tyler and pulls, the down and takes a note: "MARLA --" and a phone number, from under a BANANA MAGNET. Jack picks up the receiver, puts in a quarter. He looks at Marla's number a long moment. The Doorman walks away. Jack stares at Tyler's card. Jack re-deposits the quarter, dials Tyler's number. It RINGS... and RINGS and RINGS. Jack sighs and hangs up the phone. A moment, then the phone RINGS. Tyler lights a cigarette. Tyler offers cigarettes. Jack declines. Jack laughs, nods. He shakes his head, drinks. They laugh together. Then, silence. They drink. Tyler points to the side of OUR FRAME and the TWO DOTS briefly APPEAR ONSCREEN. In the AUDIENCE, CHILDREN suddenly start squirming, confused, looking at each other. A WOMAN abruptly stops sucking her soda straw, feeling vaguely terrible. Her uncomfortable HUSBAND slowly leans back in his seat. Jack and Tyler watch from the projection booth window. The GUESTS command the WAITERS with snaps of fingers. Jack stares at him. Jack swings a wide, clumsy roundhouse -- hits Tyler's neck -- makes a dull, flat sound. Tyler shoots out a straight punch to Jack's chest. Jack falls back against a car. His eyes tear up. Jack swings another roundhouse that slams right under Tyler's ear. Tyler punches Jack in the stomach. Tyler and Jack move clumsily, throwing punches. They breathe heavier, drooling saliva and blood, growing dizzier from every impact. A long pause as Jack studies Tyler's face. Another pause. Jack feels his bleeding lip, smiles. Tyler cracks a smile, give a sidelong glance to Jack. Tyler opens the door to a ROOM... Tyler begins RIPPING the ARTICLE from his magazine. Tyler tosses his article in a pile of other articles, chooses another EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. magazine. Jack's face shows no reaction. He continues to walk. Jack picks up his briefcase and walks out the door. Walter continues, his sales pitch drowned out by Jack's V.O.: Walter moves to Jack and slaps him in the shoulder. Jack smiles. His teeth are RED with BLOOD. They GLOW eerily in the dim light. Jack keeps the smile frozen on his face. Irvine flicks on the LIGHTS. Drunken customers squint and get the message. They plop down money, leaving. Irvine hits a button and the JUKEBOX loses power. Members of the waiting army begins to share secret looks. Finally, one buy locks the door. Two other guys close the blinds. The guys mill around, finding partners. Everyone brims with eagerness, but tries to act cool. CHATTER gets LOUDER. Everyone spreads out, forming a circle, Tyler at center. PEAKING CHATTER, till Tyler raises his arms and the CHATTER DIES. A couple of COUGHS, FEET SHUFFLING, then, SILENCE. Tyler steps back. A short guy, RICKY, and a GOATEED MAN take off shirts and shoes and step to the center. The two fighters circle, then begin throwing PUNCHES... Harder, faster PUNCHES between the two. SWEAT flies. SHOUTS become DEAFENING. Ricky's getting the best of Goateed Man, POUNDING him... The Goateed Waiter approaches Jack and sets a refill soda down on the table. The two of them briefly make eye contact. Jack keeps playing Solitaire. Boss enters, folds his arms. Jack looks at Boss. Reflexively, Jack's tongue plays with his teeth. They reach a BUS STOP as a BUS arrives, tossing their cigarettes, getting on board... They hold hand grips. Jack looks up at an ADVERTISEMENT; a CALVIN KLEIN ad featuring a tan, bare-chested MUSCLE

After discussing how to avoid attending the same groups, what does Marla give the Narrator upon going their separate ways?

Marla gives the Narrator her phone number.

ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. magazine. Jack's face shows no reaction. He continues to walk. Jack picks up his briefcase and walks out the door. Walter continues, his sales pitch drowned out by Jack's V.O.: Walter moves to Jack and slaps him in the shoulder. Jack smiles. His teeth are RED with BLOOD. They GLOW eerily in the dim light. Jack keeps the smile frozen on his face. Irvine flicks on the LIGHTS. Drunken customers squint and get the message. They plop down money, leaving. Irvine hits a button and the JUKEBOX loses power. Members of the waiting army begins to share secret looks. Finally, one buy locks the door. Two other guys close the blinds. The guys mill around, finding partners. Everyone brims with eagerness, but tries to act cool. CHATTER gets LOUDER. Everyone spreads out, forming a circle, Tyler at center. PEAKING CHATTER, till Tyler raises his arms and the CHATTER DIES. A couple of COUGHS, FEET SHUFFLING, then, SILENCE. Tyler steps back. A short guy, RICKY, and a GOATEED MAN take off shirts and shoes and step to the center. The two fighters circle, then begin throwing PUNCHES... Harder, faster PUNCHES between the two. SWEAT flies. SHOUTS become DEAFENING. Ricky's getting the best of Goateed Man, POUNDING him... The Goateed Waiter approaches Jack and sets a refill soda down on the table. The two of them briefly make eye contact. Jack keeps playing Solitaire. Boss enters, folds his arms. Jack looks at Boss. Reflexively, Jack's tongue plays with his teeth. They reach a BUS STOP as a BUS arrives, tossing their cigarettes, getting on board... They hold hand grips. Jack looks up at an ADVERTISEMENT; a CALVIN KLEIN ad featuring a tan, bare-chested MUSCLE his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. now that Baldy's gone. Jack gets one leg free, KICKS, knocks Flat-top backwards -- Flat-Top SLAMS the wall, falls. Redhead lets go of one of Jack's arms, jams his elbow into Jack's throat... cutting off the airway. Jack's face reddens... he's choking... Jack's free hand reaches, searching.. pulls Redhead's GUN and points it at him. Redhead backs off. Jack gets up, gasping for air, PISTOL-WHIPS Flat-top as he rises. Jack grabs one of the files off the table. Jack runs to the BOMB, frantic. He walks around it. There's a DIGITAL CLOCK, ticking down from "10:05"... Jack moves to pull the lid off one CANISTER, looks inside.. Jack looks -- Tyler's seated, his back against one post. Tyler gets up walks to Jack. Tyler keeps walking around, crosses his arms. Jack looks back to the BOMB, goes to it, wipes sweat off his face. He starts finger the MANY WIRES, sorting them. Jack holds his gun under one armpit, uses both hands to go through the tangle of colored wires. Jack chooses one wire, GREEN, holds it in his fingers. Jack twists the GREEN WIRE around his finger. Tyler comes a little closer, leaning to try to get a look, seems genuinely concerned. Jack's unsure, swallowing, pulling the wire taunt, fingers trembling. The SOUND of a VEHICLE is HEARD from below... Jack looks to Tyler. Tyler points towards the SOUND... Jack releases the wire, walks to a RAILING, gun in hand, keeps an eye on Tyler. Jack looks over the railing... BELOW, a BUS idles. The doors open and MARLA'S dragged out, kicking and screaming, carried by SIX SPACE MONKEYS... They carry Marla into the BUILDING'S ENTRANCE. Jack leans against the railing, exhausted. Tyler thinks, shrugs. Tyler's walks away. Jack

Who does the Narrator meet during his flight home from his business trip?

The Narrator meets Tyler Durden.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's

What type of salesman is Tyler Durden?

A soap salesman.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. now that Baldy's gone. Jack gets one leg free, KICKS, knocks Flat-top backwards -- Flat-Top SLAMS the wall, falls. Redhead lets go of one of Jack's arms, jams his elbow into Jack's throat... cutting off the airway. Jack's face reddens... he's choking... Jack's free hand reaches, searching.. pulls Redhead's GUN and points it at him. Redhead backs off. Jack gets up, gasping for air, PISTOL-WHIPS Flat-top as he rises. Jack grabs one of the files off the table. Jack runs to the BOMB, frantic. He walks around it. There's a DIGITAL CLOCK, ticking down from "10:05"... Jack moves to pull the lid off one CANISTER, looks inside.. Jack looks -- Tyler's seated, his back against one post. Tyler gets up walks to Jack. Tyler keeps walking around, crosses his arms. Jack looks back to the BOMB, goes to it, wipes sweat off his face. He starts finger the MANY WIRES, sorting them. Jack holds his gun under one armpit, uses both hands to go through the tangle of colored wires. Jack chooses one wire, GREEN, holds it in his fingers. Jack twists the GREEN WIRE around his finger. Tyler comes a little closer, leaning to try to get a look, seems genuinely concerned. Jack's unsure, swallowing, pulling the wire taunt, fingers trembling. The SOUND of a VEHICLE is HEARD from below... Jack looks to Tyler. Tyler points towards the SOUND... Jack releases the wire, walks to a RAILING, gun in hand, keeps an eye on Tyler. Jack looks over the railing... BELOW, a BUS idles. The doors open and MARLA'S dragged out, kicking and screaming, carried by SIX SPACE MONKEYS... They carry Marla into the BUILDING'S ENTRANCE. Jack leans against the railing, exhausted. Tyler thinks, shrugs. Tyler's walks away. Jack

What conversation topic influenced the Narrator to move into Tyler's mansion?

Consumerism.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... magazine. Jack's face shows no reaction. He continues to walk. Jack picks up his briefcase and walks out the door. Walter continues, his sales pitch drowned out by Jack's V.O.: Walter moves to Jack and slaps him in the shoulder. Jack smiles. His teeth are RED with BLOOD. They GLOW eerily in the dim light. Jack keeps the smile frozen on his face. Irvine flicks on the LIGHTS. Drunken customers squint and get the message. They plop down money, leaving. Irvine hits a button and the JUKEBOX loses power. Members of the waiting army begins to share secret looks. Finally, one buy locks the door. Two other guys close the blinds. The guys mill around, finding partners. Everyone brims with eagerness, but tries to act cool. CHATTER gets LOUDER. Everyone spreads out, forming a circle, Tyler at center. PEAKING CHATTER, till Tyler raises his arms and the CHATTER DIES. A couple of COUGHS, FEET SHUFFLING, then, SILENCE. Tyler steps back. A short guy, RICKY, and a GOATEED MAN take off shirts and shoes and step to the center. The two fighters circle, then begin throwing PUNCHES... Harder, faster PUNCHES between the two. SWEAT flies. SHOUTS become DEAFENING. Ricky's getting the best of Goateed Man, POUNDING him... The Goateed Waiter approaches Jack and sets a refill soda down on the table. The two of them briefly make eye contact. Jack keeps playing Solitaire. Boss enters, folds his arms. Jack looks at Boss. Reflexively, Jack's tongue plays with his teeth. They reach a BUS STOP as a BUS arrives, tossing their cigarettes, getting on board... They hold hand grips. Jack looks up at an ADVERTISEMENT; a CALVIN KLEIN ad featuring a tan, bare-chested MUSCLE EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's

How is the fight club initially formed?

The club is formed by the Narrator and Tyler getting into fist fights outside of a bar on a regular basis that ends up attracting a regular crowd.

EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. down and takes a note: "MARLA --" and a phone number, from under a BANANA MAGNET. Jack picks up the receiver, puts in a quarter. He looks at Marla's number a long moment. The Doorman walks away. Jack stares at Tyler's card. Jack re-deposits the quarter, dials Tyler's number. It RINGS... and RINGS and RINGS. Jack sighs and hangs up the phone. A moment, then the phone RINGS. Tyler lights a cigarette. Tyler offers cigarettes. Jack declines. Jack laughs, nods. He shakes his head, drinks. They laugh together. Then, silence. They drink. Tyler points to the side of OUR FRAME and the TWO DOTS briefly APPEAR ONSCREEN. In the AUDIENCE, CHILDREN suddenly start squirming, confused, looking at each other. A WOMAN abruptly stops sucking her soda straw, feeling vaguely terrible. Her uncomfortable HUSBAND slowly leans back in his seat. Jack and Tyler watch from the projection booth window. The GUESTS command the WAITERS with snaps of fingers. Jack stares at him. Jack swings a wide, clumsy roundhouse -- hits Tyler's neck -- makes a dull, flat sound. Tyler shoots out a straight punch to Jack's chest. Jack falls back against a car. His eyes tear up. Jack swings another roundhouse that slams right under Tyler's ear. Tyler punches Jack in the stomach. Tyler and Jack move clumsily, throwing punches. They breathe heavier, drooling saliva and blood, growing dizzier from every impact. A long pause as Jack studies Tyler's face. Another pause. Jack feels his bleeding lip, smiles. Tyler cracks a smile, give a sidelong glance to Jack. Tyler opens the door to a ROOM... Tyler begins RIPPING the ARTICLE from his magazine. Tyler tosses his article in a pile of other articles, chooses another they can buy shit they don't need. We are the middle children of history, with no purpose or place. We have no great war, or great depression. The great war is a spiritual war. The great depression is our lives. We were raised by television to believe that we'd be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars -- but we won't. And we're learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed-off. The crowd erupts into a DEAFENING CHORUS of agreement. Jack looks at the blazing excitement in the eyes of the crowd. A fat, MIDDLE-AGED MAN stomps down the stairs, pushing into the crowd, followed by a TALL, HEFTY THUG who holds a GUM. Tyler extends his hand for a shake, but Lou SLAPS it away. Everyone glances guiltily at each other. Lou SLUGS Tyler in the stomach, doubles him over. Tyler gains his breath, determined. He looks up, turns his head, looking to Jack. Jack watches, wide-eyed. Tyler straightens, facing Lou. Lou PUNCHES Tyler in the face. Some of the guys move forward, but the Thug points his gun. Jack-runs forward anyway -- Lou PUNCHES him in the face. More guys move forward, but Tyler waves them off, facing Lou. Lou proceeds to beat the shit out of Tyler, PUNCHING his face, his stomach. Tyler collapses to the floor. Lou starts KICKING his. Tyler bleeds from the mouth and face. Lou flushes red with exasperation, KICKS more. Finally, sweating, bewildered, Lou stops. He looks to the Thug, who is just as bewildered. Suddenly, Tyler SPRINGS UP, grabs onto Lou... Tyler's blood spatters on Lou. Lou tries to shake Tyler off, but Tyler BITES Lou's NECKTIE. The Thug grabs Tyler and pulls, the

In the story, who answers Marla's call for help when the Narrator ignores it?

Tyler.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. CLOSE TO CAMERA. Jack steps back. Tyler scratches his head, wears a RUBBER GLOVE. Jack continues toward his room. "Worker bees can leave Even drones can fly away The queen is their slave" He hits "SEND," gets the "ERROR CHIME" SOUND. He presses this key over and over. Boss enters. Boss stares at Jack like he's from Mars. Jack rolls his eyes, takes off his pants. He runs water in the sink, finds a tiny bit of SOAP and scrubs at the blood stains. The PHONE RINGS. He answers it. Jack starts to sweat, scrubs his pants obsessively. Jack almost leaps out his skin, startled; looks to see Tyler standing right next to him. Jack pushes Tyler away, cups the receiving. Jack turns away, continues to scrub his pants. Marla's FOOTSTEPS can be HEARD coming downstairs... Jack really grinds the soap against the pants, splashing water. He turns, sees Marla enter. Tyler is GONE. Marla lights a cigarette. Marla begins a slow, exotic dance, moving very close to Jack. She lifts her dress dangerously high, dancing close to Jack's body, almost touhcing. Jack becomes very aware of having no pants on, presses against the counter. Marla pulls her hemline further up. She leans in very close to Jack's ear, whispers hoarsely: Jack takes a step away, keeps scrubbing. Marla blows smoke in his face. Jack takes her cigarette and throws it in the sink. Marla backs away, fed up, storms out, going UPSTAIRS. Jack turns to see Tyler in the doorway. Marla's FOOTSTEPS are coming DOWNSTAIRS. Jack looks to the archway, then back at -- Tyler's GONE. Marla enters, shoes and balled up clothing under one arm, looking for something on the junk strewn

What does Tyler reveal to the Narrator when the Narrator sees him in his hotel room?

That Tyler and the Narrator are disassociated personalities in the same body.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. down and takes a note: "MARLA --" and a phone number, from under a BANANA MAGNET. Jack picks up the receiver, puts in a quarter. He looks at Marla's number a long moment. The Doorman walks away. Jack stares at Tyler's card. Jack re-deposits the quarter, dials Tyler's number. It RINGS... and RINGS and RINGS. Jack sighs and hangs up the phone. A moment, then the phone RINGS. Tyler lights a cigarette. Tyler offers cigarettes. Jack declines. Jack laughs, nods. He shakes his head, drinks. They laugh together. Then, silence. They drink. Tyler points to the side of OUR FRAME and the TWO DOTS briefly APPEAR ONSCREEN. In the AUDIENCE, CHILDREN suddenly start squirming, confused, looking at each other. A WOMAN abruptly stops sucking her soda straw, feeling vaguely terrible. Her uncomfortable HUSBAND slowly leans back in his seat. Jack and Tyler watch from the projection booth window. The GUESTS command the WAITERS with snaps of fingers. Jack stares at him. Jack swings a wide, clumsy roundhouse -- hits Tyler's neck -- makes a dull, flat sound. Tyler shoots out a straight punch to Jack's chest. Jack falls back against a car. His eyes tear up. Jack swings another roundhouse that slams right under Tyler's ear. Tyler punches Jack in the stomach. Tyler and Jack move clumsily, throwing punches. They breathe heavier, drooling saliva and blood, growing dizzier from every impact. A long pause as Jack studies Tyler's face. Another pause. Jack feels his bleeding lip, smiles. Tyler cracks a smile, give a sidelong glance to Jack. Tyler opens the door to a ROOM... Tyler begins RIPPING the ARTICLE from his magazine. Tyler tosses his article in a pile of other articles, chooses another

How did the Narrator only kill Tyler and avoid killing himself?

The Narrator only shoots himself through his cheek.

his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's magazine. Jack's face shows no reaction. He continues to walk. Jack picks up his briefcase and walks out the door. Walter continues, his sales pitch drowned out by Jack's V.O.: Walter moves to Jack and slaps him in the shoulder. Jack smiles. His teeth are RED with BLOOD. They GLOW eerily in the dim light. Jack keeps the smile frozen on his face. Irvine flicks on the LIGHTS. Drunken customers squint and get the message. They plop down money, leaving. Irvine hits a button and the JUKEBOX loses power. Members of the waiting army begins to share secret looks. Finally, one buy locks the door. Two other guys close the blinds. The guys mill around, finding partners. Everyone brims with eagerness, but tries to act cool. CHATTER gets LOUDER. Everyone spreads out, forming a circle, Tyler at center. PEAKING CHATTER, till Tyler raises his arms and the CHATTER DIES. A couple of COUGHS, FEET SHUFFLING, then, SILENCE. Tyler steps back. A short guy, RICKY, and a GOATEED MAN take off shirts and shoes and step to the center. The two fighters circle, then begin throwing PUNCHES... Harder, faster PUNCHES between the two. SWEAT flies. SHOUTS become DEAFENING. Ricky's getting the best of Goateed Man, POUNDING him... The Goateed Waiter approaches Jack and sets a refill soda down on the table. The two of them briefly make eye contact. Jack keeps playing Solitaire. Boss enters, folds his arms. Jack looks at Boss. Reflexively, Jack's tongue plays with his teeth. They reach a BUS STOP as a BUS arrives, tossing their cigarettes, getting on board... They hold hand grips. Jack looks up at an ADVERTISEMENT; a CALVIN KLEIN ad featuring a tan, bare-chested MUSCLE hand and writes her number on his palm. She walks into the street, causing more SCREECHING and HONKING. She turns, holds up the card. Jack starts to answer, but the traffic noise is too loud. Marla just shakes her head, turns, and keeps moving. A BUS moves into view, obscuring her. Jack looks with blearing eyes at his watch, steps away and looks at an overhanging CLOCK. Jack misses seeing TYLER on the opposite conveyor belt. They pass each other. Jack picks up an individual, wrapped Q-TIP, looks at it. He moves out of the bathroom into... --a BALD MAN next to him, talking. Jack takes another bite, turns back and it's... --a BUSINESSMAN next to him. Jack takes another bite, turns back, and it's... Two TECHNICIANS lead Jack to the BURNT-OUT SHELL of a WRECKED AUTOMOBILE. Jack sets down his briefcase, opens it and starts to make notes on a CLIPBOARDED FORM. Turgid silence. Jack turns to the window. He sees a PELICAN get SUCKED into the TURBINE. Jack's face remains bland during the following: the plane BUCKLES -- the cabin wobbles. People panic. Masks drop. The side of the plane SHEARS OFF! Screaming PASSENGERS are sucked out into the night air, flying past the quivering wind. Magazines and other objects fly everywhere. Jack remains in his same position, same bland expression. DING! -- the seatbelt light goes OUT. Jack SNAPS AWAKE. EVERYTHING IS NORMAL. Some passengers get out of their seats. From next to Jack, a VOICE we've heard before... Jack turns to see TYLER. Without turned to Jack, Tyler continues: Tyler turns to Jack. Tyler offers his hand. Jack takes it. Tyler grabs a safety instruction CARD from the

Who have problem falling asleep?

The narrator

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's magazine. Jack's face shows no reaction. He continues to walk. Jack picks up his briefcase and walks out the door. Walter continues, his sales pitch drowned out by Jack's V.O.: Walter moves to Jack and slaps him in the shoulder. Jack smiles. His teeth are RED with BLOOD. They GLOW eerily in the dim light. Jack keeps the smile frozen on his face. Irvine flicks on the LIGHTS. Drunken customers squint and get the message. They plop down money, leaving. Irvine hits a button and the JUKEBOX loses power. Members of the waiting army begins to share secret looks. Finally, one buy locks the door. Two other guys close the blinds. The guys mill around, finding partners. Everyone brims with eagerness, but tries to act cool. CHATTER gets LOUDER. Everyone spreads out, forming a circle, Tyler at center. PEAKING CHATTER, till Tyler raises his arms and the CHATTER DIES. A couple of COUGHS, FEET SHUFFLING, then, SILENCE. Tyler steps back. A short guy, RICKY, and a GOATEED MAN take off shirts and shoes and step to the center. The two fighters circle, then begin throwing PUNCHES... Harder, faster PUNCHES between the two. SWEAT flies. SHOUTS become DEAFENING. Ricky's getting the best of Goateed Man, POUNDING him... The Goateed Waiter approaches Jack and sets a refill soda down on the table. The two of them briefly make eye contact. Jack keeps playing Solitaire. Boss enters, folds his arms. Jack looks at Boss. Reflexively, Jack's tongue plays with his teeth. They reach a BUS STOP as a BUS arrives, tossing their cigarettes, getting on board... They hold hand grips. Jack looks up at an ADVERTISEMENT; a CALVIN KLEIN ad featuring a tan, bare-chested MUSCLE his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. EVERYONE ELSE: Jack looks around. Many of the men are sniffling, sobbing. Jack squirms in his seat. Everyone gets out of their chairs and begins pairing-off. Jack stands, uncomfortable. Bob, his chin down on his chest, starts toward Jack, shuffling his feet. Bob takes Jack into an embrace. Bob breaks into sobbing, putting his head on Jack's shoulder and completely covering Jack's face. After a long beat of crying, Bob raises up his head, looks at Jack's NAMETAG. They look at each other. Slowly, Jack's eyes grow wet. Bob pulls Jack's head back into his chest. Jack tightens his arms around Bob. Jack pulls away from Bob. On Bob's chest, there's a WET MASK of Jack's face from how he looks weeping. Jack, eyes closed, is silent... Jack comes upon a PENGUIN. The penguin looks at him, cocks his head to signal Jack forward. The penguin jumps onto a patch of ICE and slides away. MARLA SINGER enters. She has short matte black hair and big, dark eyes like a character from japanese animation. Marla looks around, raises a cigarette to her lips. Bob and Jack stare, dumbfounded. Jack leans out further than the others, scornful. Marla rests her chin on the man's shoulder. Tears roll down her cheeks. She wipes at them. Jack stares after Marla for a long moment. He walks away. Jack gets his wallet off the floor, pulls out another card and, MOS over the following, he reads it into the phone. Everyone sits in chairs. Jack catches sight of Marla. Taking the lectern is CHLOE, a pale, sickly girl whose skin stretches yellowish and tight over her bones. She wears a head bondage. She clears her throat. APPLAUSE from around the room.

What was Narrator addicted to?

He was addicted to partcipitating in support group.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. magazine. Jack's face shows no reaction. He continues to walk. Jack picks up his briefcase and walks out the door. Walter continues, his sales pitch drowned out by Jack's V.O.: Walter moves to Jack and slaps him in the shoulder. Jack smiles. His teeth are RED with BLOOD. They GLOW eerily in the dim light. Jack keeps the smile frozen on his face. Irvine flicks on the LIGHTS. Drunken customers squint and get the message. They plop down money, leaving. Irvine hits a button and the JUKEBOX loses power. Members of the waiting army begins to share secret looks. Finally, one buy locks the door. Two other guys close the blinds. The guys mill around, finding partners. Everyone brims with eagerness, but tries to act cool. CHATTER gets LOUDER. Everyone spreads out, forming a circle, Tyler at center. PEAKING CHATTER, till Tyler raises his arms and the CHATTER DIES. A couple of COUGHS, FEET SHUFFLING, then, SILENCE. Tyler steps back. A short guy, RICKY, and a GOATEED MAN take off shirts and shoes and step to the center. The two fighters circle, then begin throwing PUNCHES... Harder, faster PUNCHES between the two. SWEAT flies. SHOUTS become DEAFENING. Ricky's getting the best of Goateed Man, POUNDING him... The Goateed Waiter approaches Jack and sets a refill soda down on the table. The two of them briefly make eye contact. Jack keeps playing Solitaire. Boss enters, folds his arms. Jack looks at Boss. Reflexively, Jack's tongue plays with his teeth. They reach a BUS STOP as a BUS arrives, tossing their cigarettes, getting on board... They hold hand grips. Jack looks up at an ADVERTISEMENT; a CALVIN KLEIN ad featuring a tan, bare-chested MUSCLE now that Baldy's gone. Jack gets one leg free, KICKS, knocks Flat-top backwards -- Flat-Top SLAMS the wall, falls. Redhead lets go of one of Jack's arms, jams his elbow into Jack's throat... cutting off the airway. Jack's face reddens... he's choking... Jack's free hand reaches, searching.. pulls Redhead's GUN and points it at him. Redhead backs off. Jack gets up, gasping for air, PISTOL-WHIPS Flat-top as he rises. Jack grabs one of the files off the table. Jack runs to the BOMB, frantic. He walks around it. There's a DIGITAL CLOCK, ticking down from "10:05"... Jack moves to pull the lid off one CANISTER, looks inside.. Jack looks -- Tyler's seated, his back against one post. Tyler gets up walks to Jack. Tyler keeps walking around, crosses his arms. Jack looks back to the BOMB, goes to it, wipes sweat off his face. He starts finger the MANY WIRES, sorting them. Jack holds his gun under one armpit, uses both hands to go through the tangle of colored wires. Jack chooses one wire, GREEN, holds it in his fingers. Jack twists the GREEN WIRE around his finger. Tyler comes a little closer, leaning to try to get a look, seems genuinely concerned. Jack's unsure, swallowing, pulling the wire taunt, fingers trembling. The SOUND of a VEHICLE is HEARD from below... Jack looks to Tyler. Tyler points towards the SOUND... Jack releases the wire, walks to a RAILING, gun in hand, keeps an eye on Tyler. Jack looks over the railing... BELOW, a BUS idles. The doors open and MARLA'S dragged out, kicking and screaming, carried by SIX SPACE MONKEYS... They carry Marla into the BUILDING'S ENTRANCE. Jack leans against the railing, exhausted. Tyler thinks, shrugs. Tyler's walks away. Jack

Who did Narrator met at support group?

Marla Singer

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. The LEADER gingerly takes control of the microphone. Jack's face, eyes closed, is motionless. Jack sees the ghastly spectre of Chloe ambling towards him. He tries to smile. She smiles with a twisted, dying mouth. Chloe's eyes are eerily bright with desperation. Jack, in a sincere attempt at levity, chokes out: Chloe laughs, a little too much. Jack squeezes out a laugh. Then he sees Marla, off by herself. Someone heads for her. Jack gives a quick nod to Chloe and darts towards Marla. Chloe watches him go. STAY ON JACK AND MARLA as Jack CLAMPS his arms around her. He whispers into her ear. Marla puts her head down on Jack's shoulder as if she were crying. Jack pulls her head back up. She deadpans at him. Brief recognition between them, broken as the Leader passes. Jack waits till the Leader's out of earshot. Jack sighs, then pulls back. Marla starts out of the room. Jack follows her. Jack follow Marla into... Marla gathers the chosen garments and heads out past Jack... HONK! Jack starts. Marla's led him into the street with traffic barreling down. Marla walks on, oblivious as CARS screech to a halt, HORNS BLARING. Jack dashes, following... Marla steps down hard on Jack's foot. He winces in pain. The Clerk starts to ring up the assessed amounts. The Clerk gives a strange look as he hands money to Marla. They shake. Jack tries to withdraw his hand; Marla holds it. She walks to the door, pocketing money, not looking back. Jack watches her go. A moment, then he follows after... Jack takes out a business card, writes his number on the back, hands it to her. She takes the pen, grabs his EVERYONE ELSE: Jack looks around. Many of the men are sniffling, sobbing. Jack squirms in his seat. Everyone gets out of their chairs and begins pairing-off. Jack stands, uncomfortable. Bob, his chin down on his chest, starts toward Jack, shuffling his feet. Bob takes Jack into an embrace. Bob breaks into sobbing, putting his head on Jack's shoulder and completely covering Jack's face. After a long beat of crying, Bob raises up his head, looks at Jack's NAMETAG. They look at each other. Slowly, Jack's eyes grow wet. Bob pulls Jack's head back into his chest. Jack tightens his arms around Bob. Jack pulls away from Bob. On Bob's chest, there's a WET MASK of Jack's face from how he looks weeping. Jack, eyes closed, is silent... Jack comes upon a PENGUIN. The penguin looks at him, cocks his head to signal Jack forward. The penguin jumps onto a patch of ICE and slides away. MARLA SINGER enters. She has short matte black hair and big, dark eyes like a character from japanese animation. Marla looks around, raises a cigarette to her lips. Bob and Jack stare, dumbfounded. Jack leans out further than the others, scornful. Marla rests her chin on the man's shoulder. Tears roll down her cheeks. She wipes at them. Jack stares after Marla for a long moment. He walks away. Jack gets his wallet off the floor, pulls out another card and, MOS over the following, he reads it into the phone. Everyone sits in chairs. Jack catches sight of Marla. Taking the lectern is CHLOE, a pale, sickly girl whose skin stretches yellowish and tight over her bones. She wears a head bondage. She clears her throat. APPLAUSE from around the room. magazine. Jack's face shows no reaction. He continues to walk. Jack picks up his briefcase and walks out the door. Walter continues, his sales pitch drowned out by Jack's V.O.: Walter moves to Jack and slaps him in the shoulder. Jack smiles. His teeth are RED with BLOOD. They GLOW eerily in the dim light. Jack keeps the smile frozen on his face. Irvine flicks on the LIGHTS. Drunken customers squint and get the message. They plop down money, leaving. Irvine hits a button and the JUKEBOX loses power. Members of the waiting army begins to share secret looks. Finally, one buy locks the door. Two other guys close the blinds. The guys mill around, finding partners. Everyone brims with eagerness, but tries to act cool. CHATTER gets LOUDER. Everyone spreads out, forming a circle, Tyler at center. PEAKING CHATTER, till Tyler raises his arms and the CHATTER DIES. A couple of COUGHS, FEET SHUFFLING, then, SILENCE. Tyler steps back. A short guy, RICKY, and a GOATEED MAN take off shirts and shoes and step to the center. The two fighters circle, then begin throwing PUNCHES... Harder, faster PUNCHES between the two. SWEAT flies. SHOUTS become DEAFENING. Ricky's getting the best of Goateed Man, POUNDING him... The Goateed Waiter approaches Jack and sets a refill soda down on the table. The two of them briefly make eye contact. Jack keeps playing Solitaire. Boss enters, folds his arms. Jack looks at Boss. Reflexively, Jack's tongue plays with his teeth. They reach a BUS STOP as a BUS arrives, tossing their cigarettes, getting on board... They hold hand grips. Jack looks up at an ADVERTISEMENT; a CALVIN KLEIN ad featuring a tan, bare-chested MUSCLE

Who became Marla Singer sexual partner?

Tyler

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... magazine. Jack's face shows no reaction. He continues to walk. Jack picks up his briefcase and walks out the door. Walter continues, his sales pitch drowned out by Jack's V.O.: Walter moves to Jack and slaps him in the shoulder. Jack smiles. His teeth are RED with BLOOD. They GLOW eerily in the dim light. Jack keeps the smile frozen on his face. Irvine flicks on the LIGHTS. Drunken customers squint and get the message. They plop down money, leaving. Irvine hits a button and the JUKEBOX loses power. Members of the waiting army begins to share secret looks. Finally, one buy locks the door. Two other guys close the blinds. The guys mill around, finding partners. Everyone brims with eagerness, but tries to act cool. CHATTER gets LOUDER. Everyone spreads out, forming a circle, Tyler at center. PEAKING CHATTER, till Tyler raises his arms and the CHATTER DIES. A couple of COUGHS, FEET SHUFFLING, then, SILENCE. Tyler steps back. A short guy, RICKY, and a GOATEED MAN take off shirts and shoes and step to the center. The two fighters circle, then begin throwing PUNCHES... Harder, faster PUNCHES between the two. SWEAT flies. SHOUTS become DEAFENING. Ricky's getting the best of Goateed Man, POUNDING him... The Goateed Waiter approaches Jack and sets a refill soda down on the table. The two of them briefly make eye contact. Jack keeps playing Solitaire. Boss enters, folds his arms. Jack looks at Boss. Reflexively, Jack's tongue plays with his teeth. They reach a BUS STOP as a BUS arrives, tossing their cigarettes, getting on board... They hold hand grips. Jack looks up at an ADVERTISEMENT; a CALVIN KLEIN ad featuring a tan, bare-chested MUSCLE EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's

What club Tyler formed?

Fight Club

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's

Where did Tyler met Narrator?

On a flight

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's

What did Tyler review to Narrator?

Tyler and Narrator are thesame person.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's

What was Tyler plan to erase his debt?

Tyler wanted to blow up credit card company building

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's EVERYONE ELSE: Jack looks around. Many of the men are sniffling, sobbing. Jack squirms in his seat. Everyone gets out of their chairs and begins pairing-off. Jack stands, uncomfortable. Bob, his chin down on his chest, starts toward Jack, shuffling his feet. Bob takes Jack into an embrace. Bob breaks into sobbing, putting his head on Jack's shoulder and completely covering Jack's face. After a long beat of crying, Bob raises up his head, looks at Jack's NAMETAG. They look at each other. Slowly, Jack's eyes grow wet. Bob pulls Jack's head back into his chest. Jack tightens his arms around Bob. Jack pulls away from Bob. On Bob's chest, there's a WET MASK of Jack's face from how he looks weeping. Jack, eyes closed, is silent... Jack comes upon a PENGUIN. The penguin looks at him, cocks his head to signal Jack forward. The penguin jumps onto a patch of ICE and slides away. MARLA SINGER enters. She has short matte black hair and big, dark eyes like a character from japanese animation. Marla looks around, raises a cigarette to her lips. Bob and Jack stare, dumbfounded. Jack leans out further than the others, scornful. Marla rests her chin on the man's shoulder. Tears roll down her cheeks. She wipes at them. Jack stares after Marla for a long moment. He walks away. Jack gets his wallet off the floor, pulls out another card and, MOS over the following, he reads it into the phone. Everyone sits in chairs. Jack catches sight of Marla. Taking the lectern is CHLOE, a pale, sickly girl whose skin stretches yellowish and tight over her bones. She wears a head bondage. She clears her throat. APPLAUSE from around the room.

Who shot Narrator?

Himself

his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's down and takes a note: "MARLA --" and a phone number, from under a BANANA MAGNET. Jack picks up the receiver, puts in a quarter. He looks at Marla's number a long moment. The Doorman walks away. Jack stares at Tyler's card. Jack re-deposits the quarter, dials Tyler's number. It RINGS... and RINGS and RINGS. Jack sighs and hangs up the phone. A moment, then the phone RINGS. Tyler lights a cigarette. Tyler offers cigarettes. Jack declines. Jack laughs, nods. He shakes his head, drinks. They laugh together. Then, silence. They drink. Tyler points to the side of OUR FRAME and the TWO DOTS briefly APPEAR ONSCREEN. In the AUDIENCE, CHILDREN suddenly start squirming, confused, looking at each other. A WOMAN abruptly stops sucking her soda straw, feeling vaguely terrible. Her uncomfortable HUSBAND slowly leans back in his seat. Jack and Tyler watch from the projection booth window. The GUESTS command the WAITERS with snaps of fingers. Jack stares at him. Jack swings a wide, clumsy roundhouse -- hits Tyler's neck -- makes a dull, flat sound. Tyler shoots out a straight punch to Jack's chest. Jack falls back against a car. His eyes tear up. Jack swings another roundhouse that slams right under Tyler's ear. Tyler punches Jack in the stomach. Tyler and Jack move clumsily, throwing punches. They breathe heavier, drooling saliva and blood, growing dizzier from every impact. A long pause as Jack studies Tyler's face. Another pause. Jack feels his bleeding lip, smiles. Tyler cracks a smile, give a sidelong glance to Jack. Tyler opens the door to a ROOM... Tyler begins RIPPING the ARTICLE from his magazine. Tyler tosses his article in a pile of other articles, chooses another

What happened when the building collapsed?

The Narrator and Marla look on.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's down and takes a note: "MARLA --" and a phone number, from under a BANANA MAGNET. Jack picks up the receiver, puts in a quarter. He looks at Marla's number a long moment. The Doorman walks away. Jack stares at Tyler's card. Jack re-deposits the quarter, dials Tyler's number. It RINGS... and RINGS and RINGS. Jack sighs and hangs up the phone. A moment, then the phone RINGS. Tyler lights a cigarette. Tyler offers cigarettes. Jack declines. Jack laughs, nods. He shakes his head, drinks. They laugh together. Then, silence. They drink. Tyler points to the side of OUR FRAME and the TWO DOTS briefly APPEAR ONSCREEN. In the AUDIENCE, CHILDREN suddenly start squirming, confused, looking at each other. A WOMAN abruptly stops sucking her soda straw, feeling vaguely terrible. Her uncomfortable HUSBAND slowly leans back in his seat. Jack and Tyler watch from the projection booth window. The GUESTS command the WAITERS with snaps of fingers. Jack stares at him. Jack swings a wide, clumsy roundhouse -- hits Tyler's neck -- makes a dull, flat sound. Tyler shoots out a straight punch to Jack's chest. Jack falls back against a car. His eyes tear up. Jack swings another roundhouse that slams right under Tyler's ear. Tyler punches Jack in the stomach. Tyler and Jack move clumsily, throwing punches. They breathe heavier, drooling saliva and blood, growing dizzier from every impact. A long pause as Jack studies Tyler's face. Another pause. Jack feels his bleeding lip, smiles. Tyler cracks a smile, give a sidelong glance to Jack. Tyler opens the door to a ROOM... Tyler begins RIPPING the ARTICLE from his magazine. Tyler tosses his article in a pile of other articles, chooses another

What is the name given to the organization of fight clubs?

"Project Mayhem."

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. EVERYONE ELSE: Jack looks around. Many of the men are sniffling, sobbing. Jack squirms in his seat. Everyone gets out of their chairs and begins pairing-off. Jack stands, uncomfortable. Bob, his chin down on his chest, starts toward Jack, shuffling his feet. Bob takes Jack into an embrace. Bob breaks into sobbing, putting his head on Jack's shoulder and completely covering Jack's face. After a long beat of crying, Bob raises up his head, looks at Jack's NAMETAG. They look at each other. Slowly, Jack's eyes grow wet. Bob pulls Jack's head back into his chest. Jack tightens his arms around Bob. Jack pulls away from Bob. On Bob's chest, there's a WET MASK of Jack's face from how he looks weeping. Jack, eyes closed, is silent... Jack comes upon a PENGUIN. The penguin looks at him, cocks his head to signal Jack forward. The penguin jumps onto a patch of ICE and slides away. MARLA SINGER enters. She has short matte black hair and big, dark eyes like a character from japanese animation. Marla looks around, raises a cigarette to her lips. Bob and Jack stare, dumbfounded. Jack leans out further than the others, scornful. Marla rests her chin on the man's shoulder. Tears roll down her cheeks. She wipes at them. Jack stares after Marla for a long moment. He walks away. Jack gets his wallet off the floor, pulls out another card and, MOS over the following, he reads it into the phone. Everyone sits in chairs. Jack catches sight of Marla. Taking the lectern is CHLOE, a pale, sickly girl whose skin stretches yellowish and tight over her bones. She wears a head bondage. She clears her throat. APPLAUSE from around the room. down and takes a note: "MARLA --" and a phone number, from under a BANANA MAGNET. Jack picks up the receiver, puts in a quarter. He looks at Marla's number a long moment. The Doorman walks away. Jack stares at Tyler's card. Jack re-deposits the quarter, dials Tyler's number. It RINGS... and RINGS and RINGS. Jack sighs and hangs up the phone. A moment, then the phone RINGS. Tyler lights a cigarette. Tyler offers cigarettes. Jack declines. Jack laughs, nods. He shakes his head, drinks. They laugh together. Then, silence. They drink. Tyler points to the side of OUR FRAME and the TWO DOTS briefly APPEAR ONSCREEN. In the AUDIENCE, CHILDREN suddenly start squirming, confused, looking at each other. A WOMAN abruptly stops sucking her soda straw, feeling vaguely terrible. Her uncomfortable HUSBAND slowly leans back in his seat. Jack and Tyler watch from the projection booth window. The GUESTS command the WAITERS with snaps of fingers. Jack stares at him. Jack swings a wide, clumsy roundhouse -- hits Tyler's neck -- makes a dull, flat sound. Tyler shoots out a straight punch to Jack's chest. Jack falls back against a car. His eyes tear up. Jack swings another roundhouse that slams right under Tyler's ear. Tyler punches Jack in the stomach. Tyler and Jack move clumsily, throwing punches. They breathe heavier, drooling saliva and blood, growing dizzier from every impact. A long pause as Jack studies Tyler's face. Another pause. Jack feels his bleeding lip, smiles. Tyler cracks a smile, give a sidelong glance to Jack. Tyler opens the door to a ROOM... Tyler begins RIPPING the ARTICLE from his magazine. Tyler tosses his article in a pile of other articles, chooses another

What illness is it revealed that the narrator is suffering from?

Insomnia.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's down and takes a note: "MARLA --" and a phone number, from under a BANANA MAGNET. Jack picks up the receiver, puts in a quarter. He looks at Marla's number a long moment. The Doorman walks away. Jack stares at Tyler's card. Jack re-deposits the quarter, dials Tyler's number. It RINGS... and RINGS and RINGS. Jack sighs and hangs up the phone. A moment, then the phone RINGS. Tyler lights a cigarette. Tyler offers cigarettes. Jack declines. Jack laughs, nods. He shakes his head, drinks. They laugh together. Then, silence. They drink. Tyler points to the side of OUR FRAME and the TWO DOTS briefly APPEAR ONSCREEN. In the AUDIENCE, CHILDREN suddenly start squirming, confused, looking at each other. A WOMAN abruptly stops sucking her soda straw, feeling vaguely terrible. Her uncomfortable HUSBAND slowly leans back in his seat. Jack and Tyler watch from the projection booth window. The GUESTS command the WAITERS with snaps of fingers. Jack stares at him. Jack swings a wide, clumsy roundhouse -- hits Tyler's neck -- makes a dull, flat sound. Tyler shoots out a straight punch to Jack's chest. Jack falls back against a car. His eyes tear up. Jack swings another roundhouse that slams right under Tyler's ear. Tyler punches Jack in the stomach. Tyler and Jack move clumsily, throwing punches. They breathe heavier, drooling saliva and blood, growing dizzier from every impact. A long pause as Jack studies Tyler's face. Another pause. Jack feels his bleeding lip, smiles. Tyler cracks a smile, give a sidelong glance to Jack. Tyler opens the door to a ROOM... Tyler begins RIPPING the ARTICLE from his magazine. Tyler tosses his article in a pile of other articles, chooses another

What is Tyler Durden's occupation?

Soap Salesman.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. CLOSE TO CAMERA. Jack steps back. Tyler scratches his head, wears a RUBBER GLOVE. Jack continues toward his room. "Worker bees can leave Even drones can fly away The queen is their slave" He hits "SEND," gets the "ERROR CHIME" SOUND. He presses this key over and over. Boss enters. Boss stares at Jack like he's from Mars. Jack rolls his eyes, takes off his pants. He runs water in the sink, finds a tiny bit of SOAP and scrubs at the blood stains. The PHONE RINGS. He answers it. Jack starts to sweat, scrubs his pants obsessively. Jack almost leaps out his skin, startled; looks to see Tyler standing right next to him. Jack pushes Tyler away, cups the receiving. Jack turns away, continues to scrub his pants. Marla's FOOTSTEPS can be HEARD coming downstairs... Jack really grinds the soap against the pants, splashing water. He turns, sees Marla enter. Tyler is GONE. Marla lights a cigarette. Marla begins a slow, exotic dance, moving very close to Jack. She lifts her dress dangerously high, dancing close to Jack's body, almost touhcing. Jack becomes very aware of having no pants on, presses against the counter. Marla pulls her hemline further up. She leans in very close to Jack's ear, whispers hoarsely: Jack takes a step away, keeps scrubbing. Marla blows smoke in his face. Jack takes her cigarette and throws it in the sink. Marla backs away, fed up, storms out, going UPSTAIRS. Jack turns to see Tyler in the doorway. Marla's FOOTSTEPS are coming DOWNSTAIRS. Jack looks to the archway, then back at -- Tyler's GONE. Marla enters, shoes and balled up clothing under one arm, looking for something on the junk strewn down and takes a note: "MARLA --" and a phone number, from under a BANANA MAGNET. Jack picks up the receiver, puts in a quarter. He looks at Marla's number a long moment. The Doorman walks away. Jack stares at Tyler's card. Jack re-deposits the quarter, dials Tyler's number. It RINGS... and RINGS and RINGS. Jack sighs and hangs up the phone. A moment, then the phone RINGS. Tyler lights a cigarette. Tyler offers cigarettes. Jack declines. Jack laughs, nods. He shakes his head, drinks. They laugh together. Then, silence. They drink. Tyler points to the side of OUR FRAME and the TWO DOTS briefly APPEAR ONSCREEN. In the AUDIENCE, CHILDREN suddenly start squirming, confused, looking at each other. A WOMAN abruptly stops sucking her soda straw, feeling vaguely terrible. Her uncomfortable HUSBAND slowly leans back in his seat. Jack and Tyler watch from the projection booth window. The GUESTS command the WAITERS with snaps of fingers. Jack stares at him. Jack swings a wide, clumsy roundhouse -- hits Tyler's neck -- makes a dull, flat sound. Tyler shoots out a straight punch to Jack's chest. Jack falls back against a car. His eyes tear up. Jack swings another roundhouse that slams right under Tyler's ear. Tyler punches Jack in the stomach. Tyler and Jack move clumsily, throwing punches. They breathe heavier, drooling saliva and blood, growing dizzier from every impact. A long pause as Jack studies Tyler's face. Another pause. Jack feels his bleeding lip, smiles. Tyler cracks a smile, give a sidelong glance to Jack. Tyler opens the door to a ROOM... Tyler begins RIPPING the ARTICLE from his magazine. Tyler tosses his article in a pile of other articles, chooses another they can buy shit they don't need. We are the middle children of history, with no purpose or place. We have no great war, or great depression. The great war is a spiritual war. The great depression is our lives. We were raised by television to believe that we'd be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars -- but we won't. And we're learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed-off. The crowd erupts into a DEAFENING CHORUS of agreement. Jack looks at the blazing excitement in the eyes of the crowd. A fat, MIDDLE-AGED MAN stomps down the stairs, pushing into the crowd, followed by a TALL, HEFTY THUG who holds a GUM. Tyler extends his hand for a shake, but Lou SLAPS it away. Everyone glances guiltily at each other. Lou SLUGS Tyler in the stomach, doubles him over. Tyler gains his breath, determined. He looks up, turns his head, looking to Jack. Jack watches, wide-eyed. Tyler straightens, facing Lou. Lou PUNCHES Tyler in the face. Some of the guys move forward, but the Thug points his gun. Jack-runs forward anyway -- Lou PUNCHES him in the face. More guys move forward, but Tyler waves them off, facing Lou. Lou proceeds to beat the shit out of Tyler, PUNCHING his face, his stomach. Tyler collapses to the floor. Lou starts KICKING his. Tyler bleeds from the mouth and face. Lou flushes red with exasperation, KICKS more. Finally, sweating, bewildered, Lou stops. He looks to the Thug, who is just as bewildered. Suddenly, Tyler SPRINGS UP, grabs onto Lou... Tyler's blood spatters on Lou. Lou tries to shake Tyler off, but Tyler BITES Lou's NECKTIE. The Thug grabs Tyler and pulls, the

What is the name of the woman who, like the narrator, is also an imposter at support groups?

Marla Singer

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's

What was Tyler's plan to erase debt?

Destroying buildings that contain credit card companies' records.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks looks at the gun in his hand. He points the gun at Tyler... Tyler stops walking. Tyler strides towards the BOMB. Jack trains the gun... Tyler looks at the BOMB, reaches over to it. He grips the GREEN WIRE, yanks it out -- the CLOCK STOPS. Jack lowers his gun. Jack's stunned. Tyler walks across the parking garage, past Jack, heading for the STAIRS. Jack aims the gun at Tyler's back, FIRES! Tyler ducks to one side, impossibly quick, avoiding... Tyler spins to face Jack. Jack aims... FIRES! Tyler DODGES behind a post as the BULLET THROWS CONCRETE. Jack edges forward, gun held in both hands, moves around the post... Tyler is NOT THERE. Jack turns, takes slow steps, moving the gun from side to side... Jack falls. The gun goes CLATTERING across the floor... Jack turns, looking... Tyler's GONE. Jack looks to the gun, scrambles to his feet, running to pick up the gun... Tyler KICKS Jack in the chest, sends Jack sprawling. Jack rolls, holding his chest. He looks up, sees Tyler run into the STAIRWELL. Jack grabs the gun and follows... Tyler backs away, laughing. Jack gets to his feet, aims his gun... Jack clenches his teeth, FIRING -- nothing happens to Tyler. Jack FIRES TWICE -- no effect. Tyler raises his arms. Jack charges. Tyler dodges, PUNCHES, knocks the gun out of Jack's hand. They FIGHT, trading PUNCHES, grappling, taking each other to the floor... ON ONE MONITOR: Jack is seen in the lobby, on the floor, alone, wrestling himself. He swings his left hand up, punching empty air, then swings his right hand -- PUNCHING himself in the side of the head... Jack gets up, breathing hard, holding his head, follows... EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's down and takes a note: "MARLA --" and a phone number, from under a BANANA MAGNET. Jack picks up the receiver, puts in a quarter. He looks at Marla's number a long moment. The Doorman walks away. Jack stares at Tyler's card. Jack re-deposits the quarter, dials Tyler's number. It RINGS... and RINGS and RINGS. Jack sighs and hangs up the phone. A moment, then the phone RINGS. Tyler lights a cigarette. Tyler offers cigarettes. Jack declines. Jack laughs, nods. He shakes his head, drinks. They laugh together. Then, silence. They drink. Tyler points to the side of OUR FRAME and the TWO DOTS briefly APPEAR ONSCREEN. In the AUDIENCE, CHILDREN suddenly start squirming, confused, looking at each other. A WOMAN abruptly stops sucking her soda straw, feeling vaguely terrible. Her uncomfortable HUSBAND slowly leans back in his seat. Jack and Tyler watch from the projection booth window. The GUESTS command the WAITERS with snaps of fingers. Jack stares at him. Jack swings a wide, clumsy roundhouse -- hits Tyler's neck -- makes a dull, flat sound. Tyler shoots out a straight punch to Jack's chest. Jack falls back against a car. His eyes tear up. Jack swings another roundhouse that slams right under Tyler's ear. Tyler punches Jack in the stomach. Tyler and Jack move clumsily, throwing punches. They breathe heavier, drooling saliva and blood, growing dizzier from every impact. A long pause as Jack studies Tyler's face. Another pause. Jack feels his bleeding lip, smiles. Tyler cracks a smile, give a sidelong glance to Jack. Tyler opens the door to a ROOM... Tyler begins RIPPING the ARTICLE from his magazine. Tyler tosses his article in a pile of other articles, chooses another

What type of club do Tyler and the narrator form that begin forming across the country?

A fight club.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's CLOSE TO CAMERA. Jack steps back. Tyler scratches his head, wears a RUBBER GLOVE. Jack continues toward his room. "Worker bees can leave Even drones can fly away The queen is their slave" He hits "SEND," gets the "ERROR CHIME" SOUND. He presses this key over and over. Boss enters. Boss stares at Jack like he's from Mars. Jack rolls his eyes, takes off his pants. He runs water in the sink, finds a tiny bit of SOAP and scrubs at the blood stains. The PHONE RINGS. He answers it. Jack starts to sweat, scrubs his pants obsessively. Jack almost leaps out his skin, startled; looks to see Tyler standing right next to him. Jack pushes Tyler away, cups the receiving. Jack turns away, continues to scrub his pants. Marla's FOOTSTEPS can be HEARD coming downstairs... Jack really grinds the soap against the pants, splashing water. He turns, sees Marla enter. Tyler is GONE. Marla lights a cigarette. Marla begins a slow, exotic dance, moving very close to Jack. She lifts her dress dangerously high, dancing close to Jack's body, almost touhcing. Jack becomes very aware of having no pants on, presses against the counter. Marla pulls her hemline further up. She leans in very close to Jack's ear, whispers hoarsely: Jack takes a step away, keeps scrubbing. Marla blows smoke in his face. Jack takes her cigarette and throws it in the sink. Marla backs away, fed up, storms out, going UPSTAIRS. Jack turns to see Tyler in the doorway. Marla's FOOTSTEPS are coming DOWNSTAIRS. Jack looks to the archway, then back at -- Tyler's GONE. Marla enters, shoes and balled up clothing under one arm, looking for something on the junk strewn

What is the first support group that the narrator attends in the story?

A support group for testicular cancer victims.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's now that Baldy's gone. Jack gets one leg free, KICKS, knocks Flat-top backwards -- Flat-Top SLAMS the wall, falls. Redhead lets go of one of Jack's arms, jams his elbow into Jack's throat... cutting off the airway. Jack's face reddens... he's choking... Jack's free hand reaches, searching.. pulls Redhead's GUN and points it at him. Redhead backs off. Jack gets up, gasping for air, PISTOL-WHIPS Flat-top as he rises. Jack grabs one of the files off the table. Jack runs to the BOMB, frantic. He walks around it. There's a DIGITAL CLOCK, ticking down from "10:05"... Jack moves to pull the lid off one CANISTER, looks inside.. Jack looks -- Tyler's seated, his back against one post. Tyler gets up walks to Jack. Tyler keeps walking around, crosses his arms. Jack looks back to the BOMB, goes to it, wipes sweat off his face. He starts finger the MANY WIRES, sorting them. Jack holds his gun under one armpit, uses both hands to go through the tangle of colored wires. Jack chooses one wire, GREEN, holds it in his fingers. Jack twists the GREEN WIRE around his finger. Tyler comes a little closer, leaning to try to get a look, seems genuinely concerned. Jack's unsure, swallowing, pulling the wire taunt, fingers trembling. The SOUND of a VEHICLE is HEARD from below... Jack looks to Tyler. Tyler points towards the SOUND... Jack releases the wire, walks to a RAILING, gun in hand, keeps an eye on Tyler. Jack looks over the railing... BELOW, a BUS idles. The doors open and MARLA'S dragged out, kicking and screaming, carried by SIX SPACE MONKEYS... They carry Marla into the BUILDING'S ENTRANCE. Jack leans against the railing, exhausted. Tyler thinks, shrugs. Tyler's walks away. Jack his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes.

What is the narrator's occupation in the story?

A traveling automobile recall specialist.

STUD. Tyler looks at Jack, looks at the C.K. advertisement. A MAN in a suit KNOCKS Tyler's shoulder as he passes. The Man takes a handle, close by. Jack's pissed, staring at the man, who stares back. Tyler looks to Jack, glances over his shoulder at the Man. Tyler casually picks a small scab off Jack's nostril. Tyler stares forward. Tyler and the Opponent wrestle desperately, and Tyler flips his attacker, gets on top, sprawling to pin him. Tyler turns -- starts reining PUNCHES into the Opponent's GROIN... Jack catches sight of a swollen-faced Tyler, watching appreciatively, a smile growing slowly on his face. The Opponent recovers, throws a headlock on Jack. Jack snakes his arm into a counter headlock. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd CHEERS maniacally. Onlookers kneel to stay with the fight, cheering LOUDER. The Opponent SMASHES Jack's head to the floor, over and over. Everyone moves in as the Opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others lift Jack up. They turn their attention to the floor, to a BLOOD MASK of Jack's face -- similar to the TEAR MASK on BOB'S SHIRT. Jack limply shakes his Opponent's hand. Everyone helps Jack walk. He's sweating, bleeding, smiling. The Nurse doesn't look at Tyler, just keeps tending to Jack. Jack reaches in his mouth, exploring, pulls -- yanks a TOOTH. Jack looks at it. Tyler puts scissors down, done. Jack drops the tooth in the sink with Tyler's hair. Jack looks through the archway and sees Tyler, in his gummy flannel bathrobe, doing sit-ups. Jack leans, cups the phone. Jack looks exasperated, turns TO LOOK INTO THE CAMERA. Jack puts the handset on top of the phone, still off the hook, walks ON THE STAIRS, Tyler reaches the LOFT LEVEL, above the lobby, disappears around a corner. Jack's right behind, turning the corner -- Tyler's NOT THERE. Jack receives a SHARP SLAP on the back of the head. He wheels. Tyler isn't there. A TAP on his shoulder. Jack turns around -- WHAM! -- Tyler PUNCHES his face. Jack falls against the loft railing. Tyler comes forward, SWINGS... Jack TUMBLES horribly down... HITS BOTTOM, striking his head on the floor. Jack PASSES OUT... JACK'S P.O.V. -- TRACKS in the sawdust of the floor, from where his body was dragged across to where he is how. CLOSE ON: Jack tries to comprehend. He turns his head -- TYLER'S HAND brings the GUN up, PUTS THE GUN IN JACK'S MOUTH. Jack freezes, looks around with his eyes... Tyler looks at his watch. Jack tongues the barrel to the side of his mouth. Tyler checks his watch. Jack turns, so he can see down -- 31 STORIES. Tyler watches the skyline, WHISTLES at tune, waiting. Tyler looks out the windows, at SURROUNDING BUILDINGS, excited. Jack closes his eyes, despairing. Jack opens his eyes. More waiting. Tyler looks genuinely surprised, pissed-off. JACK (cont) They must've run out of cotton and Epsom salt. Paraffin is iffy at best. Tyler rises, taking the gun from Jack's mouth, starts pacing. Jack rubs his sore jowls, allows himself a smile. Tyler stops walking, lets out a sigh of disgust. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a WALKIE TALKIE. Jack's eyes go wide. Jack leaps -- TACKLES Tyler. The GUN is knocked away. Jack STRIKES Tyler's face repeatedly with his elbow, scrambles off... Jack gets the gun, turns, pointing it. Tyler's EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. now that Baldy's gone. Jack gets one leg free, KICKS, knocks Flat-top backwards -- Flat-Top SLAMS the wall, falls. Redhead lets go of one of Jack's arms, jams his elbow into Jack's throat... cutting off the airway. Jack's face reddens... he's choking... Jack's free hand reaches, searching.. pulls Redhead's GUN and points it at him. Redhead backs off. Jack gets up, gasping for air, PISTOL-WHIPS Flat-top as he rises. Jack grabs one of the files off the table. Jack runs to the BOMB, frantic. He walks around it. There's a DIGITAL CLOCK, ticking down from "10:05"... Jack moves to pull the lid off one CANISTER, looks inside.. Jack looks -- Tyler's seated, his back against one post. Tyler gets up walks to Jack. Tyler keeps walking around, crosses his arms. Jack looks back to the BOMB, goes to it, wipes sweat off his face. He starts finger the MANY WIRES, sorting them. Jack holds his gun under one armpit, uses both hands to go through the tangle of colored wires. Jack chooses one wire, GREEN, holds it in his fingers. Jack twists the GREEN WIRE around his finger. Tyler comes a little closer, leaning to try to get a look, seems genuinely concerned. Jack's unsure, swallowing, pulling the wire taunt, fingers trembling. The SOUND of a VEHICLE is HEARD from below... Jack looks to Tyler. Tyler points towards the SOUND... Jack releases the wire, walks to a RAILING, gun in hand, keeps an eye on Tyler. Jack looks over the railing... BELOW, a BUS idles. The doors open and MARLA'S dragged out, kicking and screaming, carried by SIX SPACE MONKEYS... They carry Marla into the BUILDING'S ENTRANCE. Jack leans against the railing, exhausted. Tyler thinks, shrugs. Tyler's walks away. Jack

How does the narrator "kill" Tyler?

He fires a gun through his cheek.

EXPLODING, wheel rims throwing sparks. Family members stop eating. Father picks up the REMOTE, points it -- all channels are SNOW. Father turns the TV OFF. He and his family members look at each other, utensils in hand, uncomfortable. Other guys follow behind, with FUNNELS and CANS of GASOLINE, filling each monitor with gasoline. Nearby, Rob throws handfuls of wet BREADCRUMBS to PIGEONS... HUNDREDS of PIGEONS -- a rooftop feeding-frenzy. Tyler takes the BACKPACK, unzips it, searching the contents. Tyler takes out a HANDGUN, hands the backpack back. Jack turns white, staring at the gun. The Clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the DRIVER'S LICENCE. Tyler rummages through the wallet. Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving. Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond's temple. Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler COCKS the gun. Raymond GASPS. Tyler shoves Raymond's wallet back into Raymond's pocket. Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond's eyes. Raymond staggers to his feet, heads down an alleyway. Jack and Tyler watch Raymond flee, then Tyler looks at Jack. Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger -- CLICK. Empty. Tyler walks away. Jack watches Tyler go. Jack turns to look the direction Raymond ran. He finally turns back, following after Tyler. Tyler's marking a large SQUARE in the weeds and rubble of the backyard, kicking rocks away, dragging the rake... Jack notices ROPE and RAPPELLING TOOLS on the table. Tyler comes to hand Jack a bunch of beers, nod to the living room. Bob goes to turn up the TV. One guy, sixteen years old with an angelic face, ANGEL FACE, gets up to take beer from Jack. Angel face starts distributing beer amongst his cohorts. his hand... As Marla HANGS UP. Jack stares at the receiver, dazed... Jack spins, dropping the phone -- TYLER sits beside him. Tyler shakes his head in disgust, extremely irritated. Jack listens, looks at the empty space beside him. JACK, Bob, Ricky, Angel Face and another GUY rappel down the side, SPRAYING PAINT. JACK is "TYLER" in demeanor, mannerisms, speech... Jack shakes his head in disbelief, in denial... Jack stands, trying to absorb, feeling ill, trying to find words, then -- he suddenly FAINTS to the floor, OUT COLD. The clerk follows the length of the counter, waves a PAPER. Jack goes out the door, freezes. He rushes back in, going to the desk -- snatches the bill, studies it: many NUMBERS. Jack looks at the clerk, at the bill, at the clerk. He picks up a BOTTLE labeled "NITRIC ACID." Jack finger stops on a NUMBER. He dials, phone to his ear. Jack sees a file on the wall: "1888 CENTURY PARK EAST." Jack HANGS UP, desperately dials the next number on the bill. Jack sees a file: "2160 PICO BOULEVARD." He throws the phone, pocketing the bill. He grabs up all the FILES. Marla makes a sharp turn, walking away. Jack follows, hugging the files to his chest, catching up. Marla heads into a DINER. Jack follows... A WAITER with a BLACK EYE appears at the table. Jack look to the pass-through WINDOW into the kitchen where THREE COOKS look out with STITCHES in their faces. The waiter snaps to attention and leaves. Marla's getting up to go, but Jack rises, fed up, takes her by the arm, putting her back in her seat. Marla crosses her arms. Jack collects himself. Marla's getting upset, tears coming to her eyes. getting to his feet, sees the gun, annoyed. Jack stands. Jack SHOOTS TWICE. Bullets pass right thorough Tyler. Tyler just rolls his eyes, drops the walkie-talkie to the floor and STOMPS on it, CRUSHING it. Jack falters, pointing at Tyler's feet. There's no walkie- talkie there. Jack looks down, sees the WALKIE-TALKIE CRUSHED under his own foot. Jack holds his head, walks around, at his wit's end. Jack backs up against a window, numb and weary. Jack stares at Tyler, tears welling up, hangs his head. He looks at the gun in his hand... Jack stares at the gun a long time... then... Jack brings the gun up, PUTS THE GUN IN HIS MOUTH. Tyler cocks his head. Tyler is calm. Tyler smiles in appreciation, slowly walks forward, stands very close to Jack. Jack COCKS the hammer on the gun. Their eyes are locked, unblinking. Long silence. KABLAM! -- Jack's cheeks INFLATE with gas. His eyes bulge. BLOOD flies out from his head. The WINDOW behind him SHATTERS. SMOKE wafts out of his mouth and tear ducts. Tyler stands, in gunsmoke, eyes glazed, sniffs the air... Jack slumps to the floor... Tyler falls... Tyler hits the ground. The back of TYLER'S HEAD is BLOWN OPEN, revealing blood, skull and brain. Suddenly, a GROUP of SPACE MONKEYS burst into the room, moving forward to Jack. TYLER'S BODY IS GONE. Jack quakes, holding the side of his head; a ragged hole blown in his CHEEK. He's bleeding hard, but he's alive. Jack looks to the Space Monkeys, trying to get his eyes to see. TWO SPACE MONKEYS enter with Marla. One holds a gun to Marla as she struggles. Jack sees Marla, tries to get to his feet, falls... The Monkeys bring Marla, releasing her, saluting. Marla crouches, takes out wadded TISSUES and tries to apply. them to Jack's wound. Space Monkeys are leaving, hesitantly. Jack and Marla are left alone. Jack tries to got up. Marla helps him. MASSIVE EXPLOSION... the glass walls rattle... Jack and Marla look -- OUT THE WINDOWS: a BUILDING EXPLODES; collapsing upon itself. Then, ANOTHER BUILDING IMPLODES into a massive cloud of dust. Jack and Marla are silhouetted against the SKYLINE. Jack looks to Marla, reaches to take her hand. down and takes a note: "MARLA --" and a phone number, from under a BANANA MAGNET. Jack picks up the receiver, puts in a quarter. He looks at Marla's number a long moment. The Doorman walks away. Jack stares at Tyler's card. Jack re-deposits the quarter, dials Tyler's number. It RINGS... and RINGS and RINGS. Jack sighs and hangs up the phone. A moment, then the phone RINGS. Tyler lights a cigarette. Tyler offers cigarettes. Jack declines. Jack laughs, nods. He shakes his head, drinks. They laugh together. Then, silence. They drink. Tyler points to the side of OUR FRAME and the TWO DOTS briefly APPEAR ONSCREEN. In the AUDIENCE, CHILDREN suddenly start squirming, confused, looking at each other. A WOMAN abruptly stops sucking her soda straw, feeling vaguely terrible. Her uncomfortable HUSBAND slowly leans back in his seat. Jack and Tyler watch from the projection booth window. The GUESTS command the WAITERS with snaps of fingers. Jack stares at him. Jack swings a wide, clumsy roundhouse -- hits Tyler's neck -- makes a dull, flat sound. Tyler shoots out a straight punch to Jack's chest. Jack falls back against a car. His eyes tear up. Jack swings another roundhouse that slams right under Tyler's ear. Tyler punches Jack in the stomach. Tyler and Jack move clumsily, throwing punches. They breathe heavier, drooling saliva and blood, growing dizzier from every impact. A long pause as Jack studies Tyler's face. Another pause. Jack feels his bleeding lip, smiles. Tyler cracks a smile, give a sidelong glance to Jack. Tyler opens the door to a ROOM... Tyler begins RIPPING the ARTICLE from his magazine. Tyler tosses his article in a pile of other articles, chooses another The LEADER gingerly takes control of the microphone. Jack's face, eyes closed, is motionless. Jack sees the ghastly spectre of Chloe ambling towards him. He tries to smile. She smiles with a twisted, dying mouth. Chloe's eyes are eerily bright with desperation. Jack, in a sincere attempt at levity, chokes out: Chloe laughs, a little too much. Jack squeezes out a laugh. Then he sees Marla, off by herself. Someone heads for her. Jack gives a quick nod to Chloe and darts towards Marla. Chloe watches him go. STAY ON JACK AND MARLA as Jack CLAMPS his arms around her. He whispers into her ear. Marla puts her head down on Jack's shoulder as if she were crying. Jack pulls her head back up. She deadpans at him. Brief recognition between them, broken as the Leader passes. Jack waits till the Leader's out of earshot. Jack sighs, then pulls back. Marla starts out of the room. Jack follows her. Jack follow Marla into... Marla gathers the chosen garments and heads out past Jack... HONK! Jack starts. Marla's led him into the street with traffic barreling down. Marla walks on, oblivious as CARS screech to a halt, HORNS BLARING. Jack dashes, following... Marla steps down hard on Jack's foot. He winces in pain. The Clerk starts to ring up the assessed amounts. The Clerk gives a strange look as he hands money to Marla. They shake. Jack tries to withdraw his hand; Marla holds it. She walks to the door, pocketing money, not looking back. Jack watches her go. A moment, then he follows after... Jack takes out a business card, writes his number on the back, hands it to her. She takes the pen, grabs his

What character is actually a disassociated personality within the narrator?

Tyler Durden.

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to

What is Brad Hamilton's year in school?

senior

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to

What year is Hamilton's car?

1960

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor cover their mouths. Others begin furious notes. Nobody speaks. The body of Arthur is smallish and withered. It is orange, flaky, and not quite real looking. A deep cut has been made in Arthur's chest. Mr. Vargas bends Arthur upright for a better student view. He gestures to the deep cut made in Arthur's chest. The tension mounts. Mr. Vargas grabs the two sides of Arthur's chest cavity covering, and rips it open. With a squish, Mr. Vargas reaches inside Arthur and pulls out the human heart for display. The class stands in silent shock. Only one comment escapes from any of them. She squeezes his arm. Stacy is fighting back tears. Linda looks angry. Telephone rings. Linda jumps to get it. Linda obviously is disappointed when she hears a female voice. She plops back on the couch with Stacy. She notices that Stacy is crying over the TV show. Linda shuts off the television. Linda sits down next to Stacy on the bed. She puts the TV back on and they watch. He clicks off the time on a runner, and then turns to face her. Stacy stands there, hands folded, nodding. Stacy sags, disbelieving, and looks at the clock on the kitchen wall. It's getting late... Stacy is stunned. Stacy hangs up. She punches out another number, quickly. She looks at the clock again, then hears a noise in the driveway. She runs out. She gets out of the car. A Nurse comes in with an IV. She sticks the needle into Stacy's hand. Stacy looks pained but doesn't yell. The Nurse pats the rolling bed. Stacy moves onto it. Looking up from her point of view, we see the ride out of the room and into: Stacy moves onto the operating table as the Nurse and Doctor

What kind of car does Hamilton have?

Buick LeSabre

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids.

What is Brrad's sisters name?

Stacy

green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to

How old is Stacy?

15

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor front door of the classroom. The knock continues. The mystery knocker tries a lazy calypso beat on the front door. No one in Mr. Hand's U.S. History class dares mention it, much less answer it. Stacy grips her desk with the tension of her first day. Hand finally turns, as if he has just noticed the sound at the door and opens the door an inch. Jeffrey Spicoli stands in the doorway, red eyes glistening. His long, blond hair is still wet and streaming down the back of his white peasant shirt. He grins, oblivious to such trivial matters as attendance bells. A Student sitting near Stacy turns to his friends. Spicoli holds his red ad card up to the crack in the door. Spicoli laughs. He is the only one. Mr. Hand takes the red ad card and reads from it with utter fascination. Mr. Hand slowly tears the card into little pieces and sprinkles the pieces over his wastebasket. Spicoli watches in disbelief. His hands are frozen in the process of removing his backpack. Mr. Hand moves to within inches of Spicoli's face. It takes a moment for the words to work their way out of Jeff Spicoli's mouth. In the tense moment that follows, no one in the class is sure what might happen. Mr. Hand simply turns away from Jeff Spicoli as if he ceased to exist and coolly continues his lecture. Hand begins passing out stacks of purple mimeographed sheets. Still standing in the doorway, hyperventilating with fifteen-year-old adrenalin, is Jeff Spicoli. After a time, he fishes a few bits of his ad card out of the wastebasket and huffs out of the room. His Buddies shake their heads. Brad sees another friend pass through lunch court. Brad waits for him to pass. They all

How does Mike make money?

taking bets and scalping tickets

green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE

Where is Brad's part time job?

All-American Burger

green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE

What position is Brad promoted to at the convenience store?

manager

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to

What drug is Jeff a habitual user of?

marijuana

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor initiative, rubbing her hands through his hair, rubbing his sides, kissing his neck, then pulling away. Damone nods, and watches as Stacy unhooks her top and steps out of her bikini bottom. She stands naked in the shadows of the afternoon sun. She sits down naked on a red changing room couch, and gathers her legs up to her chest. She watches as Damone struggles with his clothes. Stacy leans back and pulls him on top of her. He enters her and begins pumping so hard, so fast, that he doesn't notice he's banging the sofa into the wall of the changing room. But just as quickly as Damone starts, he stops. He has a strange look on his face. They lay there, Damone still on top of her on the red couch. The bell rings, and Mr. Vargas enters the room with his Sanka cup. The door swings open. Brad Hamilton holds out his yellow slip. There is no humor on Mrs. O'Rourke's face. Brad looks up suddenly. Brad gathers his books and opens the door to leave. An absolutely exuberant Cindy Carr pops her head in the door. Damone turns to see her, is thoroughly unimpressed. He pulls away, leaving a bewildered Stacy standing by her locker. She grabs some books and hurries in the other direction. The class moves on. The kids are beginning to get very nervous now as they are led down the hall to the "Cold Room." The door to the "Cold Room" has only one sign on it. It reads: CADAVERS -- MEDICAL EXAMINATION ONLY. Mr. Vargas opens the door, and the class seems to gasp. A student raises his hand. Mr. Vargas suddenly pulls the white sheet aside and we see the body of Arthur. The students' eyes widen. Some gasp. Others

Which teacher can't tolerate Jeff?

Mr. Hand

Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE

What is the All-American Burger's policy on customer clothing?

"No Shirt, No Shoes, No Dice"

buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor jeans. He walks inside the store. He is the only shopper. Brad squints his eyes, looks at the sign on the back room door. Spicoli disappears into the back room. Brad sighs, looks at the clock. It reads: 11:15. Then he hears Spicoli from the back room. Brad sighs again. He loads a new filter into the coffee maker. Brad looks pale and young under the fluorescent 7 11 light. He speaks slowly. He bangs the gun on the counter, hard. Brad slowly moves to the donut case, like a zombie. Brad opens the phony back of the donut case and fiddles with the strongbox combination. Brad looks at the gunman. The Robber is about to react when the bathroom door opens and Jeff Spicoli starts out, wiping his hands on his pants. The Robber turns to look at Spicoli, and that is all that Brad Hamilton needs. Just like it is the most natural thing in the world, Brad reaches for the hot, steaming coffee pot he has just made and throws it into the gunman's face and hands. The .45 falls out of his hand and rattles to the floor. The gunman is still grabbing his face, and looking at his skinless hands in horror when Brad snaps up the gun. In the parking lot, the gunman's accomplice, poised behind the wheel of the yellow Firebird, spots the foul-up and screeches out of the parking lot. Brad pulls the under-counter alarm with newfound confidence. Jeff Spicoli stands there, mesmerized at the entire event. Two girls pass his way. One smiles briefly at him, and The Rat turns to watch her pass. He is about to say something to her, then no. He walks on, sees Swenson's Ice-Cream Parlor up ahead. The Rat decides to walk the other way. A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE

Why is Brad promoted to store manager of Mi-T-Mart?

He stopped a robbery.

A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to

Who does Stacy work with at the pizza parlor?

Linda.

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to

Who does Mark confess his love for?

Stacy

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to

Where do Stacy and Mike Damone have sex?

The pool house.

buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. cover their mouths. Others begin furious notes. Nobody speaks. The body of Arthur is smallish and withered. It is orange, flaky, and not quite real looking. A deep cut has been made in Arthur's chest. Mr. Vargas bends Arthur upright for a better student view. He gestures to the deep cut made in Arthur's chest. The tension mounts. Mr. Vargas grabs the two sides of Arthur's chest cavity covering, and rips it open. With a squish, Mr. Vargas reaches inside Arthur and pulls out the human heart for display. The class stands in silent shock. Only one comment escapes from any of them. She squeezes his arm. Stacy is fighting back tears. Linda looks angry. Telephone rings. Linda jumps to get it. Linda obviously is disappointed when she hears a female voice. She plops back on the couch with Stacy. She notices that Stacy is crying over the TV show. Linda shuts off the television. Linda sits down next to Stacy on the bed. She puts the TV back on and they watch. He clicks off the time on a runner, and then turns to face her. Stacy stands there, hands folded, nodding. Stacy sags, disbelieving, and looks at the clock on the kitchen wall. It's getting late... Stacy is stunned. Stacy hangs up. She punches out another number, quickly. She looks at the clock again, then hears a noise in the driveway. She runs out. She gets out of the car. A Nurse comes in with an IV. She sticks the needle into Stacy's hand. Stacy looks pained but doesn't yell. The Nurse pats the rolling bed. Stacy moves onto it. Looking up from her point of view, we see the ride out of the room and into: Stacy moves onto the operating table as the Nurse and Doctor Cindy Carr and another cheerleader, Dina Phillips, are making a presentation before the school. They sit in silence for a moment. There is unenthusiastic, minor applause from the assembled students of Ridgemont High. Vice Principal Ray Connors, a tough-looking man with an H.R. Haldeman crew cut, approaches the podium. He has a sour look on his face. For the first time during this assembly, there is a loud and hearty applause. A ball comes rolling out into the serene street. A small child runs out after it. The driving of our vehicle brakes, but not in time. The film freeze frames on the terrified face of a child about to be splattered. There is a swell of dramatic music. The words flash on the screen and we hear a high school Driver's Training class groan in mock horror. Linda looks nauseous. We hear the very-present sounds of Driver's Training students. In the film, another car comes barreling from the left, running a stop sign and exploding into the side of the two-drink goner. In the class, the Driver's Training students are howling. The youngsters hang on every word of the sage advice. Damone and The Rat walk on. The Rat is barely interested. He appears deep in thought. Damone, obviously in his element here at the mall, stops to flash a winning smile at a well-built older housewife. As he talks, Damone passes a Country Farms shop. He plucks a free sample of cheese and sausage. The Rat and Damone continue on. The Rat nods, always the student, as they pass a Wherehouse Record store. Damone stops right in front of a seductively posed life-sized cardboard stand-up of Debbie Harry, the alluring rock singer. Damone begins his speech. Damone turns to the cardboard cutout of Debbie Harry to demonstrate. He green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE

Where does Stacy actually go after she asks Brad to drive her to the bowling alley?

An abortion clinic.

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the Cindy Carr and another cheerleader, Dina Phillips, are making a presentation before the school. They sit in silence for a moment. There is unenthusiastic, minor applause from the assembled students of Ridgemont High. Vice Principal Ray Connors, a tough-looking man with an H.R. Haldeman crew cut, approaches the podium. He has a sour look on his face. For the first time during this assembly, there is a loud and hearty applause. A ball comes rolling out into the serene street. A small child runs out after it. The driving of our vehicle brakes, but not in time. The film freeze frames on the terrified face of a child about to be splattered. There is a swell of dramatic music. The words flash on the screen and we hear a high school Driver's Training class groan in mock horror. Linda looks nauseous. We hear the very-present sounds of Driver's Training students. In the film, another car comes barreling from the left, running a stop sign and exploding into the side of the two-drink goner. In the class, the Driver's Training students are howling. The youngsters hang on every word of the sage advice. Damone and The Rat walk on. The Rat is barely interested. He appears deep in thought. Damone, obviously in his element here at the mall, stops to flash a winning smile at a well-built older housewife. As he talks, Damone passes a Country Farms shop. He plucks a free sample of cheese and sausage. The Rat and Damone continue on. The Rat nods, always the student, as they pass a Wherehouse Record store. Damone stops right in front of a seductively posed life-sized cardboard stand-up of Debbie Harry, the alluring rock singer. Damone begins his speech. Damone turns to the cardboard cutout of Debbie Harry to demonstrate. He A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor

Who joyrides in Charles Jefferson's Camaro with Jefferson's little brother?

Jeff Spicoli

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to Cindy Carr and another cheerleader, Dina Phillips, are making a presentation before the school. They sit in silence for a moment. There is unenthusiastic, minor applause from the assembled students of Ridgemont High. Vice Principal Ray Connors, a tough-looking man with an H.R. Haldeman crew cut, approaches the podium. He has a sour look on his face. For the first time during this assembly, there is a loud and hearty applause. A ball comes rolling out into the serene street. A small child runs out after it. The driving of our vehicle brakes, but not in time. The film freeze frames on the terrified face of a child about to be splattered. There is a swell of dramatic music. The words flash on the screen and we hear a high school Driver's Training class groan in mock horror. Linda looks nauseous. We hear the very-present sounds of Driver's Training students. In the film, another car comes barreling from the left, running a stop sign and exploding into the side of the two-drink goner. In the class, the Driver's Training students are howling. The youngsters hang on every word of the sage advice. Damone and The Rat walk on. The Rat is barely interested. He appears deep in thought. Damone, obviously in his element here at the mall, stops to flash a winning smile at a well-built older housewife. As he talks, Damone passes a Country Farms shop. He plucks a free sample of cheese and sausage. The Rat and Damone continue on. The Rat nods, always the student, as they pass a Wherehouse Record store. Damone stops right in front of a seductively posed life-sized cardboard stand-up of Debbie Harry, the alluring rock singer. Damone begins his speech. Damone turns to the cardboard cutout of Debbie Harry to demonstrate. He

Who does Ridgemont High football player Charles Jefferson think trashed his car?

lincoln players

buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor cover their mouths. Others begin furious notes. Nobody speaks. The body of Arthur is smallish and withered. It is orange, flaky, and not quite real looking. A deep cut has been made in Arthur's chest. Mr. Vargas bends Arthur upright for a better student view. He gestures to the deep cut made in Arthur's chest. The tension mounts. Mr. Vargas grabs the two sides of Arthur's chest cavity covering, and rips it open. With a squish, Mr. Vargas reaches inside Arthur and pulls out the human heart for display. The class stands in silent shock. Only one comment escapes from any of them. She squeezes his arm. Stacy is fighting back tears. Linda looks angry. Telephone rings. Linda jumps to get it. Linda obviously is disappointed when she hears a female voice. She plops back on the couch with Stacy. She notices that Stacy is crying over the TV show. Linda shuts off the television. Linda sits down next to Stacy on the bed. She puts the TV back on and they watch. He clicks off the time on a runner, and then turns to face her. Stacy stands there, hands folded, nodding. Stacy sags, disbelieving, and looks at the clock on the kitchen wall. It's getting late... Stacy is stunned. Stacy hangs up. She punches out another number, quickly. She looks at the clock again, then hears a noise in the driveway. She runs out. She gets out of the car. A Nurse comes in with an IV. She sticks the needle into Stacy's hand. Stacy looks pained but doesn't yell. The Nurse pats the rolling bed. Stacy moves onto it. Looking up from her point of view, we see the ride out of the room and into: Stacy moves onto the operating table as the Nurse and Doctor

Which school wins the football game between Ridgemont High and Lincoln High?

Ridgemont High.

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to cover their mouths. Others begin furious notes. Nobody speaks. The body of Arthur is smallish and withered. It is orange, flaky, and not quite real looking. A deep cut has been made in Arthur's chest. Mr. Vargas bends Arthur upright for a better student view. He gestures to the deep cut made in Arthur's chest. The tension mounts. Mr. Vargas grabs the two sides of Arthur's chest cavity covering, and rips it open. With a squish, Mr. Vargas reaches inside Arthur and pulls out the human heart for display. The class stands in silent shock. Only one comment escapes from any of them. She squeezes his arm. Stacy is fighting back tears. Linda looks angry. Telephone rings. Linda jumps to get it. Linda obviously is disappointed when she hears a female voice. She plops back on the couch with Stacy. She notices that Stacy is crying over the TV show. Linda shuts off the television. Linda sits down next to Stacy on the bed. She puts the TV back on and they watch. He clicks off the time on a runner, and then turns to face her. Stacy stands there, hands folded, nodding. Stacy sags, disbelieving, and looks at the clock on the kitchen wall. It's getting late... Stacy is stunned. Stacy hangs up. She punches out another number, quickly. She looks at the clock again, then hears a noise in the driveway. She runs out. She gets out of the car. A Nurse comes in with an IV. She sticks the needle into Stacy's hand. Stacy looks pained but doesn't yell. The Nurse pats the rolling bed. Stacy moves onto it. Looking up from her point of view, we see the ride out of the room and into: Stacy moves onto the operating table as the Nurse and Doctor

When does Mr. Hand go to Jeff Spicoli's house?

To give him a one-on-one lesson.

buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor jeans. He walks inside the store. He is the only shopper. Brad squints his eyes, looks at the sign on the back room door. Spicoli disappears into the back room. Brad sighs, looks at the clock. It reads: 11:15. Then he hears Spicoli from the back room. Brad sighs again. He loads a new filter into the coffee maker. Brad looks pale and young under the fluorescent 7 11 light. He speaks slowly. He bangs the gun on the counter, hard. Brad slowly moves to the donut case, like a zombie. Brad opens the phony back of the donut case and fiddles with the strongbox combination. Brad looks at the gunman. The Robber is about to react when the bathroom door opens and Jeff Spicoli starts out, wiping his hands on his pants. The Robber turns to look at Spicoli, and that is all that Brad Hamilton needs. Just like it is the most natural thing in the world, Brad reaches for the hot, steaming coffee pot he has just made and throws it into the gunman's face and hands. The .45 falls out of his hand and rattles to the floor. The gunman is still grabbing his face, and looking at his skinless hands in horror when Brad snaps up the gun. In the parking lot, the gunman's accomplice, poised behind the wheel of the yellow Firebird, spots the foul-up and screeches out of the parking lot. Brad pulls the under-counter alarm with newfound confidence. Jeff Spicoli stands there, mesmerized at the entire event. Two girls pass his way. One smiles briefly at him, and The Rat turns to watch her pass. He is about to say something to her, then no. He walks on, sees Swenson's Ice-Cream Parlor up ahead. The Rat decides to walk the other way.

What grade of school is Brad in?

senior (12)

buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the initiative, rubbing her hands through his hair, rubbing his sides, kissing his neck, then pulling away. Damone nods, and watches as Stacy unhooks her top and steps out of her bikini bottom. She stands naked in the shadows of the afternoon sun. She sits down naked on a red changing room couch, and gathers her legs up to her chest. She watches as Damone struggles with his clothes. Stacy leans back and pulls him on top of her. He enters her and begins pumping so hard, so fast, that he doesn't notice he's banging the sofa into the wall of the changing room. But just as quickly as Damone starts, he stops. He has a strange look on his face. They lay there, Damone still on top of her on the red couch. The bell rings, and Mr. Vargas enters the room with his Sanka cup. The door swings open. Brad Hamilton holds out his yellow slip. There is no humor on Mrs. O'Rourke's face. Brad looks up suddenly. Brad gathers his books and opens the door to leave. An absolutely exuberant Cindy Carr pops her head in the door. Damone turns to see her, is thoroughly unimpressed. He pulls away, leaving a bewildered Stacy standing by her locker. She grabs some books and hurries in the other direction. The class moves on. The kids are beginning to get very nervous now as they are led down the hall to the "Cold Room." The door to the "Cold Room" has only one sign on it. It reads: CADAVERS -- MEDICAL EXAMINATION ONLY. Mr. Vargas opens the door, and the class seems to gasp. A student raises his hand. Mr. Vargas suddenly pulls the white sheet aside and we see the body of Arthur. The students' eyes widen. Some gasp. Others green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE

Why did Brad lose his job at All-American Burger?

He lost his temper.

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to

Who is Lisa in relation to Brad?

Brad's girlfriend

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to

Who is Stacy in relation to Brad?

Brad's sister

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids.

Who is Ron Johnson in relation to Stacy?

He was her one night stand

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to

Where does Stacy ask Brad to take her?

to a bowling alley

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to

Where does Brad really take Stacy?

to an abortion clinic

A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids.

Who is the father of Stacy's baby?

Mike Damone

DUST. A young Girl runs and catches up with Linda and Stacy. Linda listens thoughtfully, then clicks into her "sex expert" mode. The Girl nods. The Girl thanks Linda again. Linda and Stacy get to the back exit of the mall and Linda uses a key to open the door. They exit the mall, into the night. Someone has taken the steel letters from the green vanguard out front. It reads: "IDG MON SENOR HI <b>HO." </b> The rest of Ridgemont High is covered with toilet paper. And a black spray paint message along the side of the front office building reads, "LINCOLN <b>SURF NAZIS." </b> <b>EXT. RIDGEMONT PARKING LOT - DAY </b> Brad pulls into the Ridgemont High parking lot. He drives a beat-up, four-door model LTD sedan. Three friends wait for him near his parking space. They are dressed in the same golf caps with brand logos on the front like CAT, NATIONAL and CHAINSAW. Brad climbs out of his car and pats it admiringly. Brad joins his friends, and they walk towards the gymnasium. Rat and Damone are in the parking lot. Damone surrounded by underclassmen (customers) selling tickets. The underclassmen are impressed. They watch as Jefferson opens his car door and stands to his full height, over six-foot tall. He opens his trunk and pulls out no books, just a football duffel bag. He slowly walks by Damone, Rat and the underclassmen. Jefferson gives Damone a death glare. He moves on. Damone resumes selling tickets. One troubled-looking boy, Arnold, walks up to Brad. Arnold speaks confidentially to Brad. Brad notices Stacy and nods with complete inner cool. Stacy hurries off. Mr. Hand writes his name on the green chalkboard before his class. Every letter is a small explosion of chalk. An impatient knock begins at the buzz-cut kid. Spicoli turns around to see he's backed into a squad of eight Lincoln Surf Nazis. They are all standing on the steps, waiting. Spicoli looks up and down the row of Surf Nazis. On the end, he sees L.C. Spicoli dashes off down Luna Street. L.C. and the Surf Nazis take out in hot pursuit, chasing him through the parking lot, past Ridgemont High, and into the night. They will never catch him. Ratner turns around, affects total and complete cool. He waves across the mall to her. He looks back at his post at the theatre, decides it's okay to step away. He walks across the mall. Stacy turns to look at him, smiles. She sits. The Rat maintains The Attitude. The Rat looks at her from the corner of his eyes. She withdraws a picture from her pocket, hands it to The Rat. She gives him a kiss on the mouth, gets up and walks away. The Rat sits there, smiling at the way things sometimes turn out. He slips the picture into his pocket, a satisfied young man. The Rat snickers, shakes his head. The Rat turns to look at his friend. They take off together, blending into the crowd of kids walking the mall. Damone laughs, shoves him hard. We lose sight of the two boys in the sea of kids. green bikini, sits kicking her legs by the side of the pool. Linda stands on the board. She is poised to dive. The Rat treads water and stares at both girls. Inside the Hamilton living room, the family stereo plays the music of Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo". Brad arrives home by the side gate and slams it behind him. He is home from a bad day at work. He walks out onto the patio and stands with his hands on his hips. For the first time, our former campus hero looks absurd. He is still in his uniform from Captain Kidd Fish and Chips -- it is a blue and white striped Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, complete with black plastic sword at the side, and a ridiculously large Ponce de Leon-esque hat. Brad carries the hat under his arm. Brad ignores the underclassmen, and notices Linda on the board in her maroon bikini. He smiles. Brad turns and heads back inside. He is just out of earshot when they begin talking about him. Stacy breaks the spell by jumping into the water, surfacing, and flipping over the tile wall into the Jacuzzi. She sits next to Damone, looking mischievous. Underneath the water, her leg accidentally knocks against his. Then he feels her continue. Damone feels Stacy's cool hand on his inner thigh. Moving upwards, stopping just short of the bulge in his trunks. Linda, for one, loses interest quickly. Standing by the side of the pool, she jams a finger in her ear and wiggles it. Linda towels off and heads back inside the Hamilton house. She knows how to walk. We see Brad. He is kneeling on the bathroom floor, his back to us. His green T-shirt is on, his underwear in a pile on the floor A good-looking man in his mid-twenties enters and sits. He wears a plastic name tag that says: "Pacific Stereo Audio Consultant, RON JOHNSON." Two Swenson's Waitresses pass by with supreme indifference, and take their orders into the back kitchen. The two Waitresses discuss the issue at hand. One of them, Linda Barrett, is the seventeen year old, retired sex queen of Ridgemont High. A third waitress enters. Through the entrance, we see Stacy Hamilton. She is the fifteen-year-old trainee, sweet-looking with just the last traces of baby fat. She puts down a glass of water for Ron, spills some and mops it up. A flustered Stacy enters the back kitchen. She fluffs up Stacy's hair and gently shoves her towards the door. Stacy reluctantly exits. Stacy thinks it over, decides it's a joke and laughs (a little too late). Ron looks at her soulfully. He stares at her and she stares back uncomfortably. Stacy smiles nervously. Mike Damone, a transplanted Easterner, bops over from the record store, eyeing every girl he passes. He stops at the movie theatre. Two Junior High Kids spot Damone, walk up to him. Damone reacts indignantly. The Kids look at each other. Damone reaches inside his pants pocket for a wad of tickets. A teenage Customer shouts to Brad from the front counter. Brad smiles, walks over to the fryer and discards the fries left from the previous shift. He shouts to the other employees as he puts in a new batch, "his" batch. Brad spots three surfers sitting in the dining area. None of them are wearing shirts. Dennis heads back to his office when he sees something in the trash bin. Brad laughs, goes back to work. They pass a janitor cleaning graffiti that says: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS and MAGGOT LUST FOR THE Drive, with music. Stacy and Ron get out of the car and walk to the baseball dugout. Silence. They look at each other, look away. Ron leans over and kisses Stacy lightly on the cheek. Stacy sits quietly for a moment, thinking, was that the first move? Then she lunges at Ron and kisses him square on the mouth. At first surprised, Ron then holds her there and kisses her in return. After a time, he breaks away. They continue making out. But they make no moves in any direction. They continue making out. Ron begins unbuttoning her blouse and massaging Stacy's breasts. A moment later, he tugs at her pants. Awkwardly, she starts to help him. He tilts her backward onto the concrete dugout bench. They kiss feverishly, her hand pulling off her shoes, then her pants. Ron goes to work. They both laugh and walk down the hall. Brad washes his car in the driveway and listens to the car radio. Stacy bristles, and heads inside the front door. Stacy checks an erasable telephone message sheet near the refrigerator. There are two names on it: BRAD/STACY. Brad's side is filled with messages. Stacy's is empty. She notices a summer bouquet floral arrangement. Stacy reads the attached note. It reads: "Memories of You, Ron Johnson." She quickly gathers it up and carries it back outside. She fans the door several times to dispel the odor. Brad nods, as Stacy pushes the flowers into his arms. There is only a hint of peach fuzz, but he grooms it anyway. Damone turns around. His friend is preoccupied. Damone takes a sip of his drink, looks at The Rat. Damone quits puttering around his room with the Kahlua and milk. He grabs a chair and straddles it. Damone gets up, moves to

How does Brad get promoted to manager at Mi-T-Mart?

he stopped a robbery in the Mi-T-Mart