ARONOFSKY STRIKES AGAIN. Except not really.
So once upon a time 1st_eggokage and neonspacecadet were watching Fight Club.
And then they were discussing the joys of Narrator/Tyler.
And then I said "YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT? TYLER DURDEN/ST. JIMMY."
...And yeah, this happened.
The new kid, his name’s Johnny, Johnny Something-Or-Other, Johnny No-Last-Name, Johnny Hi-I’m-Johnny-Does-This-Club-Have-Free-Food?, Johnny Getting-His-Ass-Handed-To-Him.
He’s wearing clothes just a bit too old, just a bit too cheap, and his hair’s just a bit too long. He’s an emigrant-an escapee-an exile-from suburbia, a runaway from his lower-middle-class whitewashed town of Somewhere, Who Cares, US of A. And he’s got a guy twice his size tackling him to the floor and punching him bloody and he’s laughing.
When the fight’s over and Johnny’s nursing a bloody, pulpy lip, Tyler goes to talk to him.
He asks, “You high, kid?”
And Johnny nods and giggles as he pokes at his own lip again. “Can’t remember the last time I wasn’t.”
Tyler laughs, and it’s different from Johnny’s druggie giggle, not entirely sincere. “You’ll waste all your cash on that habit, y’know. You’ll never be able to buy that car you want, that house.”
Johnny spits some blood on the floor when he laughs. “Whatever. I got my life, my girl, and my Jimmy, fuck everything else.”
Tyler sits down and chats with Johnny for the rest of the night. Johnny has no idea what kind of honor that is.
A week later, Johnny shows up again, but he’s wearing two rings of eyeliner and black leather instead of grey cotton and he says his name is Jimmy.
Tyler says it’s his first time, so he has to fight, and JohnnyJimmy grins and cracks his knuckles like the middle school Disney Channel bully.
He takes down the guy in about thirty seconds, and nobody really knows how. One minute there are two guys staring each other down, and the next, JohnnyJimmy’s twisting the other guy’s arm and shoving him to the ground.
Tyler shakes JohnnyJimmy’s hand after the fight and invites him to a conversation in the corner.
Tyler asks, “You know a Johnny?”
“I know a few.”
“One came by about a week ago, said he knew a Jimmy. Coincidence?”
“Maybe. Probably not. If it’s the Johnny I think you’re thinking of, he’s a good kid. Pays well. Not really meant for this kind of place, I think.”
“Oh, I don’t know. We’re moving in a new direction soon, he might want to be along for the ride. Let him stay.”
“I can’t make his decisions,” Jimmy says, but he’s smiling. His teeth are a bit too white.
They spend the rest of the night chatting (again), and neither of them stops smiling until Jimmy says he has a life to get back to.
I think Tyler might have fallen in love, that night.
And then they were discussing the joys of Narrator/Tyler.
And then I said "YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT? TYLER DURDEN/ST. JIMMY."
...And yeah, this happened.
The new kid, his name’s Johnny, Johnny Something-Or-Other, Johnny No-Last-Name, Johnny Hi-I’m-Johnny-Does-This-Club-Have-Free-Food?, Johnny Getting-His-Ass-Handed-To-Him.
He’s wearing clothes just a bit too old, just a bit too cheap, and his hair’s just a bit too long. He’s an emigrant-an escapee-an exile-from suburbia, a runaway from his lower-middle-class whitewashed town of Somewhere, Who Cares, US of A. And he’s got a guy twice his size tackling him to the floor and punching him bloody and he’s laughing.
When the fight’s over and Johnny’s nursing a bloody, pulpy lip, Tyler goes to talk to him.
He asks, “You high, kid?”
And Johnny nods and giggles as he pokes at his own lip again. “Can’t remember the last time I wasn’t.”
Tyler laughs, and it’s different from Johnny’s druggie giggle, not entirely sincere. “You’ll waste all your cash on that habit, y’know. You’ll never be able to buy that car you want, that house.”
Johnny spits some blood on the floor when he laughs. “Whatever. I got my life, my girl, and my Jimmy, fuck everything else.”
Tyler sits down and chats with Johnny for the rest of the night. Johnny has no idea what kind of honor that is.
A week later, Johnny shows up again, but he’s wearing two rings of eyeliner and black leather instead of grey cotton and he says his name is Jimmy.
Tyler says it’s his first time, so he has to fight, and JohnnyJimmy grins and cracks his knuckles like the middle school Disney Channel bully.
He takes down the guy in about thirty seconds, and nobody really knows how. One minute there are two guys staring each other down, and the next, JohnnyJimmy’s twisting the other guy’s arm and shoving him to the ground.
Tyler shakes JohnnyJimmy’s hand after the fight and invites him to a conversation in the corner.
Tyler asks, “You know a Johnny?”
“I know a few.”
“One came by about a week ago, said he knew a Jimmy. Coincidence?”
“Maybe. Probably not. If it’s the Johnny I think you’re thinking of, he’s a good kid. Pays well. Not really meant for this kind of place, I think.”
“Oh, I don’t know. We’re moving in a new direction soon, he might want to be along for the ride. Let him stay.”
“I can’t make his decisions,” Jimmy says, but he’s smiling. His teeth are a bit too white.
They spend the rest of the night chatting (again), and neither of them stops smiling until Jimmy says he has a life to get back to.
I think Tyler might have fallen in love, that night.