Found 446 results
49s
Was-Was it ticking? Actually, throwers don't worry about ticking, 'cause modern bombs don't tick. Sorry. "Throwers"? Baggage handlers. But when a suitcase vibrates, then the thrower's gotta call the police. My suitcase... was vibrating? 9 times out of 10, it's an electric razor, but every once in a while... it's a dildo. Of course, it's company policy never to imply ownership in the event of a dildo. We have to use the indefinite article a dildo. Never your dildo. I don't own a- I had everything in that suitcase- my CK shirts, my DKNY shoes, my AX ties.
Fight Club
1m1s
Soap. Sorry? I make and I sell soap- the yard stick of civilization. And this is how I met... "Tyler Durden." Did you know, if you mixed equal parts of gasoline and frozen or angejuice concentrate, you can make napalm? No, I did not know that. Is that true? That's right. One can make all kinds of explosives using simple household items. Really? If one were so inclined. Tyler, you are, by far, the most interesting "single-serving" friend I've ever met. See, obviously, everything on a plane is single-serving, even- Oh, I get it. It's very clever. Thank you. How's that working out for you? What? Being clever. Great. Keep it up, then. Right up. Now a question of etiquette. As I pass, do I give you the ass or the crotch?
Fight Club
31.2s
Everywhere I travel, tiny life... single-serving sugar... single-serving cream... single pat of butter... a microwave cordon-bleu hobby kit. Shampoo-conditioner combos. Sample package mouthwash, tiny bars of soap. The people I meet on each flight, they're single-serving friends. Between takeoff and landing, we have our time together, but that's all we get. Welcome!
Fight Club
33.5s
You wake up at SeaTac. S.F.O... L.A.X... You wake up at O'Hare... Dallas-Fort Worth... B.W.I... Pacific, mountain, central... Lose an hour, gain an hour... Check-in for that flight doesn't begin for another 2 hours, sir. This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time. You wake up at Air Harbor international... ...the aircraft has come to a complete stop. If you wake up at a different time, in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?
Fight Club
36.3s
Rain trickled down through the plaster and the light fixtures. Everything wooden swelled and shrank. Everywhere were rusted nails to snag your elbow on. The previous occupant had been a bit of a shut-in. Hey, man, what are you reading? Listen to this. It's an article written by an organ in the first person. "I am Jack's medulla oblongata. Without me, Jack could not regulate his heart rate, blood pressure, or breathing." There's a whole series of these. "I am Jill's nipples." "I am Jack's colon." Yeah. "I get cancer. I kill Jack."
Fight Club
31.2s
Home was a condo on the 15th floor of a filing cabinet for widows and young professionals. The walls were solid concrete. A foot of concrete's important when your next-door neighbor lets her hearing aid go and has to watch game shows at full volume... Or when a volcanic blast and debris that used to be your furniture and personal effects blows out of your floor-to-ceiling windows and sails flaming into the night. I suppose these things happen.
Fight Club
57.6s
To begin tonight's communion, Chloe would like to say a few words. Oh, yeah... Chloe. Chloe looked the way Meryl Streep's skeleton would look if you made it smile and walk around the party being extra nice to everybody. Well, I'm still here, but I don't know for how long. That's as much certainty as anyone can give me. But I've got some good news. I no longer have any fear of death. But I am in a pretty lonely place. No one will have sex with me. I'm so close to the end, and all I want is to get laid for the last time. I have pornographic movies in my apartment, and lubricants and amyl nitrate. Chloe... Everyone, let's thank Chloe.
Fight Club