alfie the cool guy

i like patrick bateman, riddler, sonic, mario, league, valorant, joker, jschlatt, philosophy, history, editing, writing, game grumps, james acaster, trackmania, south park, jerma, sinjin drowning, pokemon. I have never touched a women in my life, no.

[alsoalfie]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

guys i want strawberry laces so bad pls everyone giv me 

[alsoalfie]

Hello Everyboyd im alfie

INT. PASTELS RESTAURANT- NIGHT An insanely expensive restaurant on the Upper East Side. The decor is a mixture of chi-chi and rustic, with swagged silk curtains, handwritten menus and pale pink tablecloths decorated with arrangements of moss, twigs and hideous exotic flowers. The clientele is young, wealthy and confident, dressed in the height of late-eighties style: pouffy Lacroix dresses, slinky Alaïa, Armani power suits. CLOSE-UP on a WAITER reading out the specials. WAITER With goat cheese profiteroles and I also have an arugula Caesar salad. For entrées tonight I have a swordfish meatloaf with onion marmalade, a rare-roasted partridge breast in raspberry coulis with a sorrel timbale... Huge white porcelain plates descend on very pale pink linen table cloths. Each of the entrees is a rectangle about four inches square and look exactly alike. CLOSE-UP on various diners as we hear fragments of conversation. "Is that Charlie Sheen over there?" "Excuse me? I ordered cactus pear sorbet." WAITER And grilled free-range rabbit with herbed French fries. Our pasta tonight is a squid ravioli in a lemon grass broth... CLOSE-UP on porcelain plates containing elaborate perpendicular desserts descending on another table. PATRICK BATEMAN, TIMOTHY PRICE, CRAIG MCDERMOTT and DAVID VAN PATTEN are at a table set for four. They are all wearing expensively cut suits and suspenders and have slicked-back hair. Van Patten wears horn-rimmed glasses. The camera moves in on Bateman as his narration begins: BATEMAN (V.O.) We're sitting in Pastels, this nouvelle Northern California place on the Upper East Side. The Waiter sets down plates containing tiny, elaborately decorated starters. As he does so we hear Bateman's description of each of the men at the table. BATEMAN (V.O.) You'll notice that my friends and I all look and behave in a remarkably similar fashion, but there are subtle differences between us. McDermott is the biggest asshole. Van Patten is the yes man. Price is the most wired. I'm the best looking. We all have light tans. Right now I'm in a bad mood because this is not a good table, and Van Patten keeps asking dumb, obvious questions about how to dress . VAN PATTEN What are the rules for a sweater vest? McDERMOTT What do you mean? PRICE Yes. Clarify. McDERMOTT Well, is it strictly informal- BATEMAN Or can it be worn with a suit? McDERMOTT (Smiling) Exactly BATEMAN With discreet pinstripes you should wear a subdued blue or charcoal gray vest. A plaid suit would cal I for a bolder vest. McDERMOTT But avoid matching the vest's pattern with your socks or tie. Wearing argyle socks with an argyle vest will look too studied. VAN PATTEN You think so? PRICE You'll look like you consciously worked for the look. VAN PATTEN Good point. Excuse me, gentlemen. Van Patten leaves the table. As he does so, a busboy discreetly removes their largely untouched plates. BATEMAN Van Patten looks puffy. Has he stopped working out? PRICE It looks that way, doesn't it? McDERMOTT (Staring at retreating waiter) Did he just take our plates away? PRICE He took them away because the portions are so small he probably thought we were finished. God, I hate this place. This is a chicks' restaurant. Why aren't we at Dorsia? McDERMOTT Because Bateman won't give the maitre d' head. (He guffaws) Bateman throws a swizzle stick at him. McDermott scans the room, settling on a handsome young man with slicked-back hair and horn-rimmed glasses. McDERMOTT Is that Reed Robinson over there? PRICE Are you freebasing or what? That's not Robinson. McDERMOTT Who is it then? PRICE That's Paul Owen. BATEMAN That's not Paul Owen. Paul Owen's on the other side of the room. Over there. He points to another handsome young man with slicked-back hair and horn-rimmed glasses. McDERMOTT Who is he with? PRICE (Distracted by the waitress's cleavage as she bends over to uncork a bottle of wine – the waitress glares at him) Some weasel from Kicker Peabody. Van Patten returns. VAN PATTEN They don't have a good bathroom to do coke in. McDERMOTT Are you sure that's Paul Owen over there? PRICE Yes. McDufus, I am. McDERMOTT He's handling the Fisher account. PRICE Lucky bastard. McDERMOTT Lucky Jew bastard. BATEMAN Oh Jesus, McDermott, what does that have to do with anything? McDERMOTT Listen. I've seen the bastard sitting in his office on the phone with CEOs, spinning a fucking menorah. The bastard brought a Hanukkah bush into the office last December. BATEMAN You spin a dreidel, McDermott, not a menorah. You spin a dreidel. McDERMOTT Oh my God. Bateman, do you want me to fry you up some fucking potato pancakes? Some latkes? BATEMAN No. Just cool it with the anti-Semitic remarks. McDERMOTT Oh I forgot. Bateman's dating someone from the ACLU. Price leans over and pats Bateman on the back. PRICE The voice of reason. The boy next door. And speaking of reasonable... He shows McDermott the bill for the meal. McDERMOTT Only $470. VAN PATTEN (Without irony) Not bad. The others murmur agreement. Four platinum Amex cards slap down on the table. INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT Bateman is pouring vintage champagne into flutes. Price is lighting up a cigar. McDERMOTT Last week I picked up this Vassar chick- VAN PATTEN Oh God, I was there. I don't need to hear this story again. McDERMOTT But I never told you what happened afterwards. So okay, I pick up this Vassar chick at Tunnel-hot number, big tits, great legs, this chick was a little hardbody-and so I buy her a couple of champagne kirs and she's in the city on spring break and she's practically blowing me in the Chandelier Room and so I take her back to my place- BATEMAN Whoa, wait. May I ask where Pamela is during all this? McDERMOTT Oh fuck you. I want a blowjob, Bate-man. I want a chick who's gonna let me- VAN PATTEN (Putting his hands over his ears) I don't want to hear this. He's going to say something disgusting. McDERMOTT You prude. Listen, we're not gonna invest in a co-op together or jet down to Saint Bart's. I just want some chick whose face I can sit on for thirty, forty minutes. Price throws a cigar at McDermott, who catches it. McDERMOTT Anyway, so we're back at my place and listen to this. She's had enough champagne by now to get a fucking rhino tipsy, and get this- VAN PATTEN She let you fuck her without a condom? McDERMOTT This is a Vassar girl. She's not from Queens. She would only-are you ready? (Dramatic pause) She would only give me a handjob, and get this...she kept her glove on. The men sit in shocked, horrified silence. ALL IN UNISON Never date a Vassar girl. EXT. TUNNEL NIGHTCLUB - NIGHT The limo pulls up to the sidewalk outside the Tunnel. McDermott holds the door open for a passing HOMELESS MAN, who looks confused. McDERMOTT I suppose he doesn't want the car. Price, ask him if he takes American Express. PRICE (Offering card) You take Amex, dude? The man stumbles away. The club DOORMAN, seeing the limousine, unhooks the velvet rope and welcomes them inside. INT. LADIES ROOM, TUNNEL - NIGHT Brilliant white light, a bemused elderly female attendant in a black-and-white maid's uniform trying to give out paper towels. MUSIC thuds through an open doorway. Trashed-looking girls stare into mirrors repairing their eye make-up or sit on the counter chatting to friends. There are almost as many men as women in the room. Couples stand in line, twitching as they wait to do coke. As soon as one bathroom door opens, a couple lurches out rubbing their noses while another couple rushes past them and slams the door. PRICE There's this theory out now that if you can catch the AIDS virus through having sex with someone who is infected, then you can also catch anything-Alzheimer's, muscular dystrophy, hemophilia, leukemia, diabetes, dyslexia, for Christ's sake-you can get dyslexia from pussy- BATEMAN I'm not sure, guy, but I don't think dyslexia is a virus. PRICE Oh, who knows? They don't know that. Prove it. Price and Bateman finally get a stall and rush in. Price is sweating. PRICE I'm shaking. You open it. Bateman opens a tiny packet of coke. PRICE Jeez. That's not a helluva lot, is it? BATEMAN Maybe it's just the light. PRICE Is he fucking selling it by the milligram? (He dips the corner of his Amex card in the packet and takes a snort) Oh my God... BATEMAN What? PRICE It's a fucking milligram of Sweet'n Low! Bateman dips his Amex in the envelope and snorts. BATEMAN It's definitely weak but I have a feeling if we do enough of it we'll be okay. PRICE I want to get high off this; Bateman, not sprinkle it on my fucking All-Bran. The GUY IN STALL next door yells at them in an effeminate voice: GUY IN STALL Could you keep it down, I'm trying to do drugs! Price pounds his fist against the stall. PRICE (screaming) SHUT UP! BATEMAN Calm down. Let's do it anyway PRICE I guess you're right... (Raising his voice) THAT IS, IF THE FAGGOT IN THE NEXT STALL THINKS IT'S OKAY! GUY IN STALL Fuck you! PRICE (Trying to climb up against the aluminum divider) No, FUCK YOU!! (He collapses, panting against the stall door) Sorry, dude. Steroids...Okay, let's do it. BATEMAN That's the spirit. They both dig their platinum Amex cards into the envelope of white powder, shoveling it up their noses, then sticking their fingers in to catch the residue and rubbing it into their gums. INT. NIGHTCLUB - NIGHT Bateman saunters toward the bar as "Pump Up the Volume" plays in the background. BATEMAN (to BARGIRL) Two Stoli on the rocks. He hands her two drink tickets. BARGIRL It's after eleven. Those aren't good anymore. It's a cash bar. That'll be twenty-five dollars. Bateman pulls out an expensive-looking wallet and hands her a $50. She turns her back and searches the cash register for change. BATEMAN You are a fucking ugly bitch I want to stab to death and then play around with your blood. The music muffles his voice. She turns around. He is smiling at her. She gives him his change impassively. INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT- MORNING Tableaux of Bateman's apartment in the early morning light. A huge white living room with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over Manhattan, decorated in expensive, minimalist high style: bleached oak floors, a huge white sofa, a large Baselitz painting (hung upside down) and much expensive electronic equipment. The room is impeccably neat, and oddly impersonal - as if it had sprung straight from the pages of a design magazine. BATEMAN (V.0.) My name is Patrick Bateman. I am twenty-six years old. I live in the American Garden Buildings on West Eighty-First Street, on the eleventh floor Tom Cruise lives in the penthouse. Bateman walks into his bathroom, urinates while trying to see his reflection in a poster for Les Miserables above his toilet. BATEMAN (V.0.) I believe in taking care of myself, in a balanced diet, in a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I'll put on an ice pack while doing my stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now. Bateman ties a plastic ice pack around his face. Bateman does his morning stretching exercises in the living room wearing the ice pack. CUT TO: A mirror-lined bathroom. Bateman is luxuriating in the shower steam, scrubbing his body, admiring his muscles. BATEMAN (V.O.) After I remove the icepack, I use a deep pore-cleanser lotion. In the shower, I use a water-activated gel cleanser, then a honey-almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Bateman stands in front of a massive marble sink applying a gel facial masque. BATEMAN (V.O.) Then I apply an herb mint facial masque which I leave on for ten minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. Bateman opens the door of a mirrored cabinet, which is stocked with immaculate rows of skin care products. He begins selecting bottles jars and brushes, laying them in readiness on the marble counter. BATEMAN (V.O.) I always use an after-shave lotion with little or no alcohol because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm, followed by a final moisturizing "protective" lotion... Bateman stares into the mirror. The masque has dried, giving his face a strange distorted look as if it has been wrapped in plastic. He begins slowly peeling the gel masque off his face. BATEMAN (V.O.) There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, hut there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping you and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there. INT. BATEMAN BEDROOM - MORNING Another huge white room, equally minimal: a futon, rumpled white sheets, a bedside lamp with a halogen bulb, and a large expensive painting (Eric Fischl or David Salle) chosen by Bateman's interior decorator. Dressed in silk boxer shorts, Bateman stands in front of a huge walk-in closet, filled with rows of expensive shirts, shoes and designer suits, organized according to color and tone. BATEMAN (V.O.) It is hard for me to make sense on any given level. My self is fabricated, an aberration. My personality is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent. Fully dressed in Armani, Bateman stands in front of a full-length mirror in the middle of his vast bedroom, adjusting his cuff-links. BATEMAN (V.0.) My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago, if they ever did exist. He gives a last look at the mirror and likes what he sees. He gives his reflection a smile. INT. OFFICES OF PIERCE & PIERCE - DAY As Bateman walks down the corridor, he passes another MAN who looks just like him. MAN Morning, Hamilton. Nice tan. Bateman walks past the desk of JEAN, his secretary, pulling his Walkman from around his neck. Jean is attractive, wholesome, earnest. She smiles shyly. She loves him. JEAN Late? BATEMAN Aerobics class. Sorry. Any messages? JEAN Ricky Hendricks has to cancel today. He didn't say what he was canceling or why. BATEMAN I occasionally box with Ricky at the Harvard Club. Anyone else? JEAN And...Spencer wants to meet you for a drink at Fluties Pier 17. BATEMAN When? JEAN After six. BATEMAN Negative. Cancel it. Jean follows him into his office. JEAN Oh? And what should I say? BATEMAN Just...say...no. JEAN Just say no? Jean stands at his desk, waiting for instructions. BATEMAN Okay, Jean. I need reservations for three at Camols at twelve-thirty, and if not there, try Crayons. All right? JEAN (Playfully) Yes, sir. She turns to leave. BATEMAN Oh wait. And I need reservations for two at Arcadia at eight tonight. Jean turns around. JEAN Oh, something. . romantic? BATEMAN No, silly. Forget it. I'll make them. Thanks. JEAN I'll do it. BATEMAN No. No. Be a doll and just get me a Perrier, okay? JEAN You look nice today. Jean exits. Bateman straightens some magazines in his office, lifts a painting off the wall and puts it back at a slightly different angle. He fiddles with some pencils in a beer stein. He puts on some MUSIC and flips through a Sports Illustrated. He buzzes Jean. She comes in a moment later with the Perrier and a file. JEAN Yes? BATEMAN Is that the Ransom file? Thanks. Don't wear that outfit again. JEAN Ummm...what? I didn't hear you. BATEMAN I said "Do not wear that outfit again." Wear a dress. A skirt or something. Jean stands there, then looks down at herself. JEAN (Smiling bravely) You don't like this, I take it? BATEMAN Come on, you're prettier than that. JEAN (Sarcastically) Thanks, Patrick. The phone RINGS and Jean turns to leave. BATEMAN I'm not here. And high heels. I like high heels. As Jean leaves, Bateman clicks on the TV set in one corner of the room and starts watching Jeopardy! INT. TAXI - EVENING EVELYN WILLIAMS, Patrick Bateman's fiancée, is making notes with a gold Cross pen and sipping a bottle of mineral water. Evelyn is blonde, classically beautiful, expensively educated, and utterly pleased with herself. She usually addresses Patrick as if he were a small child. EVELYN I'd want a zydeco band, Patrick. That's what I'd want, a zydeco band. Or mariachi. Or reggae. Something ethnic to shock Daddy Oh, I can't decide...And lots of chocolate truffles. Godiva. And oysters on the halfshell. CLOSE-UP on Bateman, who is wearing a Walkman and staring out the window. BATEMAN (V.O.) I'm trying to listen to the new George Michael tape but Evelyn-my supposed fiancée-keeps buzzing in my ear. Evelyn continues to make notes. EVELYN Marzipan. Pink tents. Hundreds, thousands of roses. Photographers. Annie Leibovitz. We'll get Annie Leibovitz. And we'll hire someone to videotape. Patrick, we should do it. BATEMAN (Removing his Walkman) Do...what. EVELYN Get married. Have a wedding. BATEMAN Evelyn? EVELYN Yes, darling? BATEMAN Is your Evian spiked? EVELYN We should do it. BATEMAN No-I can't take the time off work. EVELYN Your father practically owns the company. You can do anything you like, silly. BATEMAN I don't want to talk about it. EVELYN Well, you hate that job anyway. Why don't you just quit? You don't have to work. BATEMAN Because I...want...to...fit...in. The taxi bumps to a halt. INT. ESPACE RESTAURANT- NIGHT A cavernous garage, harshly spot-lit, decorated in self-conscious brutalist chic. Iron girders, walls of waxed plaster featuring exposed rusted pipes, a huge Schnabel smashed-plate painting on one wall. The tables and chairs are made of extremely uncomfortable bolted steel. BATEMAN (V.O.) I'm on the verge of tears by the time we arrive at Espace since I'm positive we won't have a decent table, but we do, and relief washes over me in an awesome wave. Tm Price and two downtown types, STASH and VANDEN, are already seated. Vanden is about twenty, pretty and sullen, with green streaks in her black hair. Stash is pale, with ragged black hair and bad skin. They are all trying to read large stainless steel menus that look like minimalist art. PRICE The menu's in braille. He gets up to greet them, giving Evelyn a suspiciously long kiss. PRICE I have to talk to you. He drags her away, half giggling and protesting. EVELYN (Over her shoulder) Pat, this is my cousin Vanden and her boyfriend Stash. He's an artist. BATEMAN (After smiling at his own reflection in the mirror and checking his hair) Hi. Pat Bateman. Vanden takes his hand reluctantly, says nothing. BATEMAN Let me guess-you live in the East Village? Pause. STASH SoHo. COURTNEY RAWLINSON and LUIS CARRUTHERS arrive at the table. Courtney is blonde, classically beautiful and from precisely the same social background as Evelyn, but she is considerably more fragile and neurotic. Luis is half-English, half-Argentinean, slightly overweight (a rarity in this crowd), puppyish and eager to please. He wears the same type of designer clothes as Price and Bateman, but with foppish tendencies: velvet jackets, bow-ties, boldly patterned vests. They exchange air kisses. As soon as Luis turns his back, Bateman sneaks a kiss on Courtney's neck. COURTNEY (Whispering) Stop it! Stash and Vanden watch them in silence. LATER: Price is whispering in Evelyn's ear. Everyone else is quietly eating, except Bateman, who is drinking and watching Evelyn and Price. BATEMAN (V.O.) I am fairly sure that Timothy and Evelyn are having an affair. Timothy is the only interesting person I know. Courtney is almost perfect looking. She s usually operating on one or more psychiatric drugs. Tonight I believe it's Xanax. More disturbing than her drug use, though, is the fact that she's engaged to Luis Carruthers, the biggest dufus in the business. Courtney rouses herself from her drug haze. COURTNEY Tell me. Stash...do you think SoHo is becoming to...commercial? CARRUTHERS Yes, I read that. PRICE Oh, who gives a rat's ass? VANDEN Hey. That affects us. PRICE (Wired on coke) Oh ho ho. That affects us? What about the massacres in Sri Lanka, honey? Doesn't that affect us, too? I mean don't you know anything about Sri Lanka? About how the Sikhs are killing like tons of Israelis there? Doesn't that affect us? BATEMAN Oh come on. Price. There are a lot more important problems than Sri Lanka to worry about. Sure our foreign policy is important, but there are more pressing problems at hand. PRICE Like what? BATEMAN Well, we have to end apartheid for one. And slow down the nuclear arms race, stop terrorism and world hunger. But we can't ignore our social needs. either We have to stop people from abusing the welfare system. We have to provide food and shelter for the homeless and oppose racial discrimination and promote civil rights while also promoting equal rights for women but change the abortion laws to protect the right to life yet still somehow maintain women's freedom of choice. The table stares at Bateman uncomfortably. BATEMAN We also have to control the influx of illegal immigrants. We have to encourage a return to traditional moral values and curb graphic sex and violence on TV, in movies, in pop music, everywhere. Most importantly we have to promote general social concern and less materialism in young people. Price chokes on his drink. Everyone is silent and mystified. CARRUTHERS Patrick, how thought-provoking. INT. EVELYN'S BEDROOM - LATER THE SAME EVENING Bateman and Evelyn are lying on her bed watching television. BATEMAN Why don t you just go for Price? EVELYN Oh God, Patrick. Why Price? Price? BATEMAN He's rich. EVELYN Everybody's rich. BATEMAN He's good-looking. EVELYN Everybody's good-looking, Patrick. BATEMAN He has a great body EVELYN Everybody has a great body now. Bateman unbuttons his shirt and makes advances to get Evelyn to have sex with him. She ignores him, watching the Home Shopping Channel with the remote in her hand. Finally, he straddles her, penis close to her face. She tries to look around him at the TV, then takes notice. EVELYN What do you want to do with that, floss with it? Bateman flops back down beside her and stares at the television. EVELYN Are you using minoxidil? BATEMAN No. I'm not. Why should I ? EVELYN Your hairline looks like it's receding. BATEMAN It's not. EXT. STREET - LATER THAT NIGHT It is 3 a.m. Bateman is standing at an ATM, listening to the comforting sound of fresh bills thudding out of the machine. Bateman turns around and watches a solitary young woman walk past him. He collects his money, placing it carefully in his wallet, and then walks toward her, whistling. He catches up to her as she pauses at a red light. BATEMAN Hello. The woman looks suspicious for a moment and then, seeing his smile, smiles back. INT. DRY CLEANERS - DAY Bateman, dressed in an Armani suit with an unlit cigar between his teeth is standing in a dry cleaners, arguing with the Chinese woman behind the counter. BATEMAN Listen, wait. You're not...shhh wait... you're not giving me valid reasons. The woman continues to speak to him in another language, grabbing at the sleeve of the jacket. BATEMAN What are you trying to say to me? Her husband has taken Bateman's horribly bloodstained sheets out of the bag and is staring at them. BATEMAN Bleach-ee? Are you trying to say bleach-ee? Bleach-ee. Oh my God. She keeps pointing to the jacket and talking. BATEMAN (Talking over her) Two things. One. You can't bleach a Soprani. Out of the question. Two. (Louder) Two. I can only get these sheets in Santa Fe. These are very expensive sheets and I really need them clean. She keeps talking and Bateman leans into her. BATEMAN If you don't shut your fucking mouth I will kill you, are you understanding me? She talks faster. BATEMAN Now listen-I have a very important lunch meeting (Checks Rolex) at Hubert's in thirty minutes, and I need those ...no wait, twenty minutes. I have a lunch meeting at Hubert's in twenty minutes with Ronald Harrison and I need those sheets cleaned by this afternoon. She keeps talking. BATEMAN Listen. I cannot understand you. Bateman starts laughing, slaps his hand down on the counter. BATEMAN This is crazy. You're a fool. I can't cope with this. Bateman is on the verge of tears. BATEMAN Stupid bitchee! Understand? Oh Christ! Someone enters the store behind him. It's VICTORIA, late-twenties, attractive but a little overweight, wearing a tailored business suit with white sneakers and sports socks. VICTORIA Patrick? She takes off her sunglasses. VICTORIA Hi, Patrick. I thought that was you. BATEMAN Hello (Mumbles un incomprehensible name) Awkward pause. BATEMAN Well. VICTORIA Isn't it ridiculous? Coming all the way up here, but you know. They really are the best. BATEMAN Then why can't they get these stains out? I mean can you talk to these people or something? I'm not getting anywhere. Victoria moves toward the sheet that the old man is holding up. She touches it and the woman behind the counter begins talking again. VICTORIA Oh my, I see. What are those? Oh my. BATEMAN Um, well...it s cranberry juice. Cranapple. VICTORiA (Skeptically) Really? BATEMAN Well, I mean, um, it s really...Bosco. You know, like... like a Dove Bar. It's a Dove Bar...Hershey's Syrup? VICTORIA (As if sharing a secret joke) Oh yeah. Oh I get it. Fun with chocolate. BATEMAN Listen, if you could talk to them (He yanks the sheet out of the man's hand) I would really appreciate it. I'm really late. I have a lunch appointment at Hubert's in fifteen minutes. Bateman turns to leave. VICTORIA Hubert's? Oh really? It moved uptown, right? BATEMAN Yeah, well, oh boy, listen, I've got to go. Thank you, uh... Victoria? VICTORIA Maybe we could have lunch one day next week? You know, I'm downtown near Wall Street quite often. BATEMAN Oh, I don't know, Victoria. I'm at work all the time. VICTORIA Well, what about, oh, you know, maybe a Saturday? BATEMAN (Checking his watch) Next Saturday? VICTORIA (Shrugging) Yeah. BATEMAN Oh, can't, I'm afraid. Matinée of Les Miserables. Listen, I've really got to go. I'll-Oh...Christ...I'll call you. VICTORIA Okay. Do. Bateman glares at the woman behind the counter and rushes out the door. Victoria stares after him as we hear the sound of the bell on the closing door. INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT - DAY Bateman is sitting on the sofa watching a video, talking to Courtney on a portable phone. He's holding a video box in one hand, perusing the title: Inside Lydia's Ass. Offscreen we hear the sounds of the porn movie as he talks. BATEMAN Listen, what are you doing tonight? COURTNEY What? Oh, I'm...busy. BATEMAN Listen, you're dating Luis, he's in Arizona. You're fucking me, and we haven't made plans. What could you possibly be up to tonight? COURTNEY Stop it. I'm... BATEMAN On a lot of lithium? COURTNEY Waiting for Luis to call me. He said he'd call tonight. Oh don't be difficult, Patrick. BATEMAN You should come have dinner with me. COURTNEY But-when? BATEMAN Am I confused or were we talking about tonight? COURTNEY Ummm . . yeah. Luis is calling me tonight. I need to be home for that. BATEMAN Pumpkin? COURTNEY Yes? BATEMAN Pumpkin you're dating an asshole. COURTNEY Uh huh. BATEMAN Pumpkin you're dating the biggest dickweed in New York. COURTNEY I know. Stop it. BATEMAN Pumpkin, you're dating a tumbling, tumbling dickweed. COURTNEY Patrick don't call me pumpkin anymore, okay? I have to go. BATEMAN Courtney? Dinner? COURTNEY I can't. BATEMAN I'm thinking Dorsia. COURTNEY Dorsia's nice. BATEMAN Nice? COURTNEY You like it there, don't you? BATEMAN The question is do you like it, Courtney? And will you blow off a fucking phone call from your sad excuse for a boyfriend to eat there tonight. COURTNEY Okay. Yeah. What time? BATEMAN Eight? COURTNEY Pick me up? BATEMAN Sounds like I'll have to. Don't fall asleep, okay? Wear something fabulous. Dorsia, remember? Bateman hangs up, opens up the Zagat's guide and dials the number for Dorsia with trembling fingers. It's busy and so he puts it on speakerphone, constant redial. He waits with his head in his hands, sweating with anxiety, until there is finally an answer. MAITRE D' Dorsia. Please hold. He is on hold for a long time, getting very tense. MAITRE D' Dorsia. BATEMAN (Both of his eyes are closed) Umm...yes...I know it's a little late but is it possible to reserve a table for two at eight or eight-thirty perhaps? Long pause. The Maitre D' starts giggling quietly and then more loudly until the laughter is almost hysterical and he hangs up the phone. INT. TAXI- NIGHT Bateman and Courtney are in the back of a cab. Courtney is heavily medicated. COURTNEY A facial at Elizabeth Arden, which was really relaxing, then to the Pottery Bam where I bought this silver muffin dish. (She starts to pass out) BATEMAN Is that Donald Trump's car? COURTNEY (Thickly) Oh God, Patrick. Shut up. BATEMAN You know, Courtney, you should take some more lithium. Or have a Diet Coke. Some caffeine might get you out of this slump. COURTNEY I just want to have a child. Just...two... perfect...children... (Her voice trails as she descends back into a drug haze) The cab draws up outside a restaurant. The awning reads "Barcadia." INT. BARCADIA - NIGHT An insanely expensive nouvelle Italian restaurant all polished natural brick, spotless white tablecloths, minimalist flower arrangements, discreet lighting. A waiter has come to take their drink orders. BATEMAN J&B. Straight. COURTNEY Champagne on the rocks. Oh-could I have that with a twist? She starts to sink back in her chair and Bateman leans over and pulls her back up. COURTNEY Are we here? BATEMAN Yes. COURTNEY This is Dorsia? BATEMAN (Examining a menu that says "Barcadia" in large script) Yes, dear. Courtney almost falls asleep while looking at her menu, and starts to slide off of her chair. Bateman grabs her by both shoulders and props her up. BATEMAN Courtney, you're going to have the peanut butter soup with smoked duck and mashed squash. New York magazine called it a 'playful but mysterious little dish." You'll love it. And then...the red snapper with violets and pine nuts. I think that'll follow nicely. COURTNEY Mmmm...thanks, Patrick. She falls asleep at the table. INT. COURTNEY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Bateman and Courtney are in Courtney's bed. Bateman is on top of her, reaching for a condom in the ashtray. He tears it open with his teeth, puts it on. COURTNEY (Dazed on lithium) I want you to fuck me. Bateman gets on top of her, starts to fuck her. COURTNEY Luis is a despicable twit. BATEMAN Yes, Luis is a despicable twit. I hate him. He keeps fucking her. COURTNEY No, you idiot. I said "Is it a receptacle tip?" Not, is Luis a despicable twit. Is it a receptacle tip? Get off me. BATEMAN Is it a what? COURTNEY Pull out. BATEMAN I'm ignoring you. COURTNEY (screaming) Pull out, goddamnit! BATEMAN (Slowing down but not stopping) What do you want, Courtney? She pushes him away from her. BATEMAN It's a plain end. I think. COURTNEY Turn the light on. She tries to sit up. BATEMAN Oh Jesus. I'm going home. COURTNEY Patrick. Turn on the Light. He turns on the light. BATEMAN It's a plain end, see? So? COURTNEY Take it off. BATEMAN Why? COURTNEY Because you have to leave half an inch at the tip – (She covers herself with her comforter) to catch the force of the ejaculate! BATEMAN I'm getting out of here. Where's your lithium? Courtney throws a pillow over her head and starts crying. COURTNEY (Screaming) Do you think you're turning me on by having unsafe sex? Bateman pulls the pillow off her and slaps her face. BATEMAN Oh Christ, this really isn't worth it. And see, Courtney, it's there for what? Huh? Tell us. (He slaps her again lightly) Why is it pulled down half an inch? So it can catch the force of the ejaculate! COURTNEY (Choking crying) Well, it's not a turn-on for me. I have a promotion coming to me. I don't want to get AIDS. Bateman grabs her head and makes her look at the condom. BATEMAN See? Happy? You dumb bitch? Are you happy, you dumb bitch? COURTNEY Oh God, just get it over with. He fucks her quickly until he has a mediocre orgasm and falls down next to her. They lie side by side with their bodies not touching, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM, PIERCE & PIERCE - DAY Bateman and Luis Carruthers are seated at a long table in the conference room at Pierce & Pierce, which looks out onto a spectacular view of Manhattan. CARRUTHERS Patrick, thanks so much for looking after Courtney. Dorsia, how impressive! How on earth did you get a reservation there? BATEMAN Lucky, I guess. CARRUTHERS That's a wonderful jacket. Let me guess, Valentino Couture? BATEMAN Uh huh. CARRUTHERS (Reaching out to touch it) It looks so soft. BATEMAN (Catching Luis hand) Your compliment was sufficient Luis. Carruthers is distracted by a question from the colleague on his left.Paul Owen enters, carrying the Wall St. Journal under his arm. He is handsome, supremely confident and self-satisfied; he sees himself as a leader among men. OWEN (To Bateman) Hello, Halberstam. Nice tie. How the hell are you? BATEMAN I've been great. And you? Their conversation fades down as we hear Bateman's thoughts. BATEMAN (V.O.) Owen has mistaken me for this dickhead Marcus Halberstam. It seems logical because Marcus also works at P&P and in fact does the same exact thing I do and he also has a penchant for Valentino suits and Oliver Peoples glasses. Marcus and I even go to the same barber, although I have a slightly better haircut. During this voiceover the CAMERA WANDERS over to MARCUS HALBERSTAM, who is conferring with a colleague in the opposite corner of the room. He bears a superficial resemblance to Bateman. OWEN How's the Ransom account going, Marcus? BATEMAN (Nervous) It's...it's...all right. OWEN Really? That's interesting. (He stares at Bateman, smiling) Not great? BATEMAN Oh well, you know. OWEN And how's Cecilia? She's a great girl. BATEMAN Oh yes. I'm very lucky. McDermott and Price enter. McDERMOTT Hey. Owen! Congratulations on the Fisher account. OWEN Thank you, Baxter. PRICE Listen, Paul. Squash? OWEN Call me. (Hands him a business card) PRICE How about Friday? OWEN No can do. Got a res at eight-thirty at Dorsia. Great sea urchin ceviche. There is a stunned silence as he walks away and sits in a corner of the room, ostentatiously studying papers. CLOSE-UP on Bateman's face, cold with hatred. PRICE (Whispering) Jesus. Dorsia? On a Friday night? How'd he swing that? McDERMOTT (Whispering) I think he's lying. Bateman takes out his wallet and pulls out a card. PRICE (Suddenly enthused) What's that, a gram? BATEMAN New card. What do you think? McDermott lifts it up and examines the lettering carefully. McDERMOTT Whoa. Very nice. Take a look. He hands it to Van Patten. BATEMAN Picked them up from the printers yesterday VAN PATTEN Good coloring. BATEMAN That's bone. And the lettering is something called Silian Rail. McDERMOTT (Envious) Silian Rail? VAN PATTEN It is very cool, Bateman. But that's nothing. He pulls a card out of his wallet and slaps it on the table. VAN PATTEN Look at this. They all lean forward to inspect it. PRICE That's really nice. Bateman clenches his fists beneath the table, trying to control his anxiety. VAN PATTEN Eggshell with Romalian type. (Turning to Bateman) What do you think? BATEMAN (Barely able to breath, his voice a croak) Nice. PRICE (Holding the card up to the light) Jesus. This is really super. How'd a nitwit like you get so tasteful? Bateman stares at his own card and then enviously at McDermott's. BATEMAN (V.O.) I can't believe that Price prefers McDermott's card to mine. PRICE But wait. You ain't seen nothin' yet. He holds up his own card. PRICE Raised lettering, pale nimbus white... BATEMAN (Choking with anxiety) Impressive. Very nice. Let's see Paul Owen's card. Price pulls a card from an inside coat pocket and holds it up for their inspection: "PAUL OWEN, PIERCE & PIERCE, MERGERS AND ACQUISITIONS." Bateman swallows, speechless. The sound in the room dies down and all we hear is a faint heartbeat as Bateman stares at the magnificent card. BATEMAN (V.O.) Look at that subtle off-white coloring. The tasteful thickness of it. Oh my God, it even has a watermark... His hand shaking, Bateman lifts up the card and stares at it until it fills the screen. He lets it fall. The SOUND RETURNS TO NORMAL. CARRUTHERS Is something wrong? Patrick...you're sweating. EXT. STREET- EVENING The financial district. The streets are eerily deserted. Bateman stands at an ATM, enjoying the reassuring sound of $500 in fresh bills thudding from the machine. As he turns to leave, he notices someone across the street. A HOMELESS MAN is lying in a doorway on top of an open grate, surrounded by bags of garbage and a shopping cart. A cardboard sign is attached to the front of the cart: I AM HOMELESS AND HUNGRY PLEASE HELP ME. A small, thin dog lies next to him. He is black, dressed in a stained, torn, lime-green polyester pants suit with jeans worn over the pants. BATEMAN (Offering his hand) Hello. Pat Bateman. The Homeless Man stares at Bateman, struggling to sit up. BATEMAN You want some money?. Some...food? The Homeless Man nods and starts to cry. Bateman reaches into his pocket and pulls out a $I 0 bill, then changes his mind and holds out a $5 instead. BATEMAN Is this what you need? The Homeless Man nods, looks away, wipes his nose. HOMELESS MAN I'm so hungry. BATEMAN It's cold out, too, isn't it? HOMELESS MAN I'm so hungry. BATEMAN (Holding the bill just out of the man's reach) Why don't you get a job? If you're so hungry, why don't you get a job? HOMELESS MAN (Shivering and sobbing) I lost my job... BATEMAN Why? Were you drinking? Is that why you lost it? Insider trading? Just joking. No, really-were you drinking on the job? HOMELESS MAN I was fired. I was laid off. BATEMAN Gee, uh, that's too bad. HOMELESS MAN I'm so hungry. The dog starts to whimper. BATEMAN Why don't you get another one? Why don't , you get another job? HOMELESS MAN I'm not... BATEMAN You're not what? Qualified for anything else? HOMELESS MAN I'm hungry BATEMAN I know that, I know that. Jeez, you're like a broken record. I'm trying to help you. HOMELESS MAN I'm hungry. BATEMAN Listen, do you think it's fair to take money from people who do have jobs? From people who do work? HOMELESS MAN What am I gonna do? BATEMAN Listen, what's your name? HOMELESS MAN Al. BATEMAN Speak up. Come on. HOMELESS MAN Al. BATEMAN Get a goddamn job, Al. You've got a negative attitude. That's what's stopping you. You've got to get your act together. I'll help you. HOMELESS MAN You re so kind, mister. You're kind. You're a kind man. I can tell. BATEMAN (Petting the dog) Shhhh...it's okay. HOMELESS MAN (Grabbing Bateman's wrist) Please...I don know what to do. I'm so cold. BATEMAN (Stroking his face, whispering) Do ,you know how bad you smell? The stench, my God. HOMELESS MAN I can't...I can't find a shelter BATEMAN You reek. You reek of...shit. Do you know that? (Shouting) Goddammit, Al-look at me and stop crying like some kind of faggot. Al...I'm sorry. Bateman carefully puts the money back in his wallet. BATEMAN It's just that...I don't know I don't have anything in common with you. He opens his briefcase and pulls out a long thin knife with a serrated edge. He pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to protect it. BATEMAN Do you know what a fucking loser ,you are? HOMELESS MAN'S POV as Bateman lunges at him with the knife. EXTREME WIDE SHOT of the street. Bateman's shadowed figure is hunched over the Homeless Man, stabbing him in the stomach. The dog barks wildly and Bateman stomps on it until it is silent. LOW ANGLE shot of Bateman as he throws a quarter on the ground. BATEMAN There's a quarter. Go buy some gum. Bateman walks calmly into the empty caverns of Wall Street. Cars drift past, their headlights momentarily illuminating the body left twitching on the ground. INT. BEAUTY SALON - DAY CLOSE-UP on Bateman's face and torso. His eyes are closed as a woman's hands rub cream into his face. FACIALIST What beautiful skin you have, Mr Bateman. So fine, so smooth... His eyes open to look up at the facialist and then he closes them again. BATEMAN (V.O.) I have all the characteristics of a human being- flesh, blood, skin, hair-but not a single clear, identifiable emotion except for greed ,und disgust. Something horrible is happening inside me and I don't know why. CUT TO: Bateman sitting in a chair, looking down at the MANICURIST who is giving him a pedicure. She is cutting his nails with tiny sharp scissors. He stares at them longingly. BATEMAN (V.O.) My nightly bloodlust has overflowed into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. CUT TO: Bateman lying irradiated by ultraviolet light on a tanning bed, wearing goggles. BATEMAN (V.O.) I think my mask of sanity is about to slip. INT. TEXARKANA RESTAURANT - NIGHT An insanely expensive nouvelle Tex-Mex restaurant, with an ironic Southwestern decor: Santa Fe colors, Navajo blankets, naive cowboy art, rawhide banquettes. Bateman bursts in the door, late, and approaches the MAITRE D'. BATEMAN Marcus Halberstam. For two at eight? MAITRE D' Your friend has already been seated. Follow me, Mr. Halberstam. Paul Owen is seated at a table underneath an enormous pair of ram's horns. He is arguing with the WAITER. OWEN No, I want to know. I came here for the cilantro crawfish gumbo, which is after all the only excuse one could have for being in this restaurant, which is by the way, almost completely empty. Am I to believe that all ten people in this restaurant have eaten your entire supply of cilantro crawfish gumbo? WAITER I'm very sorry sir. There was a fire in the kitchen earlier today, and- BATEMAN J&B, straight. And a Dixie beer. WAITER Would you like to hear- OWEN Double Absolut martini. WAITER Yes, sir. Would you like to hear the specials? BATEMAN Not if you want to keep your spleen. The Waiter leaves. OWEN This is a real beehive of, uh, activity, Halberstam. This place is hot, very hot. BATEMAN Listen, the mud soup and the charcoal arugula are outrageous here. OWEN Yeah, well, you're late. BATEMAN Hey, I'm a child of divorce. Give me a break (Studying the menu; he's in a surprisingly good mood) Hmmm, I see they've omitted the pork loin with lime jello. OWEN We should've gone to Dorsia. I could've gotten us a table. BATEMAN Nobody goes there anymore. There is a long disgruntled silence. BATEMAN Is that Ivana Trump over there? (Laughs) Jeez Patrick I mean Marcus, what are you thinking? Why would Ivana be at Texarkana? Another pause. BATEMAN So, wasn't Rothschild originally handling the Fisher account? How did you get it? OWEN I could tell you that, Halberstam, but then I'd have to kill you. He guffaws. Bateman laughs politely. LATER: Paul Owen is very drunk. BATEMAN cold sober. BATEMAN I like to dissect girls. Did you know I'm utterly insane? Owen continues laughing and motions to the waiter for another drink. OWEN Great tan, Marcus. Really impressive. Where do you tan? BATEMAN Salon. OWEN I've got a tanning bed at home. You should look into it. Bateman nods, agitated. OWEN And Cecelia, how is she? Where is she tonight? BATEMAN Cecelia is, well...you know (Cecelia. I think she's having dinner with...Evelyn Williams. OWEN Evelyn. Great ass. Goes out with that loser Patrick Bateman. What a dork. BATEMAN Another Martini, Paul? Owen nods drunkenly. LATER: The end of the meal. Owen is squeezing a lime onto the table, missing his beer, incredibly drunk. The check is laid down. BATEMAN (Talking to Owen like a child) Paul, give me your Amex card. Good boy. Bateman slaps the card down, looks at the check. BATEMAN Two-hundred-and-fifty. Very reasonable. Let's leave a big tip, shall we? My place hr a nightcap? OWEN No, man. I'm gonna bail. BATEMAN Come on, you dumb son of a bitch. (Helping him into his jacket) I've got a preview of the Barneys catalogue and a bottle of Absolut waiting for us. INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The living room floor has been meticulously covered with newspaper. Owen is slumped drunkenly in a white Eames chair, a glass in his hand. Bateman is looking through his CDs. BATEMAN You like Huey Lewis and the News? OWEN They're okay. BATEMAN Their early work was a little too New Wave for my taste. But then Sports came out in 1983, I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically. Bateman walks to his bathroom, taking a large ax out of the shower. He takes two Valium. BATEMAN (Said partly from the bathroom) The whole album has a clear, crisp sound and a new sheen of consummate professionalism that gives the songs a big boost. Bateman comes back out and leans the ax against the wall. He walks to the foyer and puts on a raincoat, watching Owen from behind ail the time. BATEMAN He's been compared to ELvis Costello but I think Huey has a more bitter, cynical sense of humor. Owen is absent-mindedly leafing through the Barneys catalogue. OWEN Hey, Halberstam? BATEMAN Yes, Owen? OWEN Why are there copies of the Style section all over the place? Do you have a dog? A chow or something? BATEMAN No, Owen. OWEN (Confused) Is that a raincoat? BATEMAN Yes, it is. Bateman moves to the CD player. He takes a CD out of its case and slides it in the machine. BATEMAN In 1987 Huey released this, Fore!, their most accomplished album. I think I heir undisputed masterpiece is "HiP To Be Square," a song so catchy that most people probably don't listen to the lyrics. But they should because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity and the importance of trends. It's al~ a personal statement about the band itself. Bateman puts on "Hip To Be Square." BATEMAN crosses the room and picks up the ax. We follow BATEMAN from behind as he walks up to Owen, the ax raised over his head. BATEMAN Hey, Paul? As Owen turns around, FROM OWEN'S POV we see Bateman swing the ax toward his face. Blood sprays onto the white raincoat. FROM BEHIND OWEN, we see BATEMAN as he yanks the ax out. Owen drops to the floor. His body falls out of the frame. We stay on his legs twitching mechanically. Blood pulses onto the newspaper-covered floor. BATEMAN (Raising the ax and screaming) Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now, you fucking stupid bastard! LOW ANGLE ON BATEMAN as he beats Owen with the back of the ax. OFFSCREEN, the sound of the ax hitting Owen. BATEMAN (Panting) Fucking bastard... Bateman takes his raincoat off, still panting. He folds the coat carefully in half, bloody side in, and drapes it neatly over the back of a chair. He sits back on the white sofa and surveys the scene. He checks his Rolex and lights a cigar. OFFSCREEN, Paul Owen's last faint sighs are heard. INT. LOBBY - NIGHT BATEMAN drags a large, blood-soaked sleeping bag through the lobby, past the bored doorman, who looks up from the Post for a moment. EXT. STREET - NIGHT BATEMAN is trying to hail a cab. Owen's body is at his feet. Luis Carruthers and a Japanese girl walk up to him. CARRUTHERS Patrick? Is that you? BATEMAN No, Luis. It's not me. You're mistaken. CARRUTHERS This is Gwendolyn Ichiban. This is my very good friend Patrick Bateman. Where are you going? We're going to Nell's. Gwendolyn's father's buying it. (Looking down at the body) Where did you get your overnight bag? BATEMAN Commes des Garcon. A cab stops. BATEMAN opens the door and manages to get Owen's body into the backseat. Bateman gets into the cab. CARRUTHERS Call me please, Patrick. BATEMAN Jesus lives, Luis. INT. BATEMAN'S HELL'S KITCHEN APARTMENT - NIGHT A bare room, lit by one light bulb. The walls are blank except for a Les Miserables poster. There is one ratty chair. Bateman pours lime over Paul Owen's body, which is lying in a bathtub. He plays Huey Lewis, smokes a cigar, watches the body dissolve. INT. PAUL OWEN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Bateman is letting himself into the apartment. It is very similar to Bateman's, but even more minimalist. The walls are white-pigmented concrete with a large minimalist painting on the wall. One wall is covered in a trendy, large-scale scientific drawing above a long, black leather couch. BATEMAN Where to send the bastard? Dallas? Pans? He throws some clothes into a suitcase, randomly grabbing toiletries and shoving them in. BATEMAN Singapore? London. I'll send the asshole to London. He puts some music on to help muffle his voice, then leans over the answering machine. He does a passable imitation of Owen's speech. BATEMAN Hi, this is Paul. I've been called away to London for a few days. Meredith, I'll call you when I get back. Hasta la vista, baby. INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - MORNING Bateman is sitting at his desk, with the latest copy of Sports Illustrated in front of him and his Walkman playing Kenny G. We hear the MUSIC until Jean enters and he takes the Walkman off. BATEMAN (Faintly irritable) What is it? JEAN Patrick? BATEMAN (Condescendingly) Ye-es, Je-an? JEAN Patrick, a Mr. Donald KIMBALL is here to see you. BATEMAN Who? JEAN Detective Donald KIMBALL? Silence. Bateman stares out the window, then down at the drawing of a headless woman he's been doodling on the back cover of Sports Illustrated. BATEMAN Tell him I'm at lunch. JEAN (whispering) Patrick, I think he knows you're here. It's only ten-thirty. Silence. BATEMAN Send him in, I guess. As she exits, he picks up the cordless phone and pretends to talk to someone at the other end. BATEMAN Now, John, you've got to wear clothes in proportion to your physique. There are definite do's and don'ts, good buddy, of wearing a bold-striped shirt. A hold-striped shirt calls for solid-colored or discreetly patterned suits and ties... The door to the office opens and he waves in DETECTIVE DONALD KIMBALL. KIMBALL is surprisingly young - about Bateman's age - and good-looking, dressed in a crumpled linen Armani suit of the type Bateman and his friends might wear. Kimball sits down and crosses his legs with a self-assurance that makes Bateman so nervous he forgets to carry on with his fake conversation. Kimball looks up at him curiously, noticing the silence. BATEMAN (Realizing that Kimball is staring at him) Right. And yes...always tip the stylist fifteen percent. Bateman shrugs at the detective, rolling his eyes in exasperation. KIMBALL nods understandingly. BATEMAN Listen, John, I've got to go. T Boone Pickens just walked in... (He laughs inanely) Just joking... (Pause) No don't tip the owner of the salon. Okay, John, right, got it. (He hangs up the phone and pushes the antenna in) Sorry about that. KIMBALL No, I'm sorry. I should've made an appointment. (Gesturing toward the phone) Was that anything important? BATEMAN Oh that? Just mulling over business problems. Examining opportunities...Exchanging rumors... Spreading gossip. They laugh politely. KIMBALL (Holding out his hand) Hi. I'm Donald KIMBALL BATEMAN (Shaking firmly) Hi. Pat Bateman. Nice to meet you. KIMBALL I'm sorry to barge in on you like this. but I was supposed to talk to Luis Carruthers and he wasn't in and...well, you're here, so...I know how busy you guys can get. KIMBALL stares at the three open copies of Sports Illustrated and the Sony Walkman lying on Bateman's desk. Bateman sees the look and sweeps the magazines into the top drawer along with the Walkman, which is still running. BATEMAN (Forcing himself to sound friendly and relaxed) So, what's the topic of discussion? KIMBALL I've been hired by Meredith Powell to investigate the disappearance of Paul Owen. BATEMAN You're not with the FBI or anything, are you? KIMBALL Nothing like that. I'm just a private investigator. BATEMAN Ah, I see...Yes. Paul's disappearance...Yes. KIMBALL So it's nothing that official. I just have some basic questions. About Paul Owen. About yourself- BATEMAN Coffee? KIMBALL No. I'm okay. BATEMAN Perrier? San Pellegrino? KIMBALL No, I'm okay. KIMBALL takes out a small black notepad and the same gold Cross pen that Bateman and his friends all use. Bateman buzzes Jean. JEAN (O.S.) Patrick? BATEMAN Can you bring Mr... KIMBALL KIMBALL. BATEMAN Mr. Kimball a bottle of San Pelle- KIMBALL Oh no, I'm okay. BATEMAN It's no problem Bateman watches intently as KIMBALL writes something down in his notebook, then crosses something out. Jean enters and places the bottle of San Pellegrino and a Steuben etched glass on the table, shooting a concerned glance at Bateman. He glares at her. KIMBALL smiles and nods at Jean as she leaves. BATEMAN Well, what's the topic of discussion? KIMBALL The disappearance of Paul Owen. BATEMAN Oh right. Well, I haven't heard anything about the disappearance or anything... (Trying to laugh) Not on "Page Six" at least. KIMBALL I think his family wants this kept quiet. BATEMAN Understandable. (Staring at the untouched bottle of San Pellegrino) Lime? KIMBALL No, really. I'm okay. BATEMAN You sure? I can always get you a lime. A pause. KIMBALL Just some preliminary questions that I need for my own files, okay? BATEMAN Shoot. KIMBALL How old are you? BATEMAN Twenty-six. I'll be twenty-seven in October. KIMBALL (Scribbling in his notebook) Where did you go to school? BATEMAN Harvard. The Harvard Business School. KIMBALL Your address? BATEMAN Fifty-five West Eighty-First Street. The American Gardens Building. KIMBALL (Looking up, impressed) Nice. Very nice. BATEMAN (Flattered) Thanks. A pause as KIMBALL studies his notebook. Bateman closes his eyes, as if in pain. KIMBALL Pardon me, but are you okay? BATEMAN Who do you ask? KIMBALL You seem...nervous. Bateman reaches into his desk drawer and brings out a bottle of aspirin. BATEMAN Nuprin? KIMBALL Uh...no, thanks. Kimball takes out a pack of Marlboro's and lays it on the desk. BATEMAN Bad habit. KIMBALL I know. I'm sorry. A pause, as Bateman stares at the cigarettes. KIMBALL Would you rather I not smoke? BATEMAN No, I guess it's okay. KIMBALL You sure? BATEMAN No problem. (Buzzing Jean) JEAN (O.S.) Yes, Patrick? BATEMAN Bring us an ashtray for Mr. KIMBALL, please. She whisks in with a crystal ashtray as they sit in silence. KIMBALL What can you tell me about Paul Owen? BATEMAN Well... He coughs, shakes two Nuprin into his hand and swallows them dry. KIMBALL How well did you know him? BATEMAN I'm...at a loss. He was part of that whole...Yale thing, you know. KIMBALL Yale thing? A pause. BATEMAN Yeah...Yale thing. KIMBALL What do you mean...Yale thing? A pause. BATEMAN Well, I think for one that he was probably a closet homosexual. Who did a lot of cocaine...that Yale thing. A silence during which the sound of the air conditioner becomes deafening. KIMBALL So...there's nothing you can tell me about Paul Owen? BATEMAN He led what I suppose was an orderly life. He... ate a balanced diet. KIMBALL What kind of man was he? Besides... (He hesitates tries to smile) the information you've just given. BATEMAN I hope I'm not being cross-examined here. KIMBALL Do you feel that way? BATEMAN No. Not really. KIMBALL (As he writes without looking up) Where did Paul hang out? BATEMAN Hang...out? KIMBALL Yeah. You know...hang out. BATEMAN Let me think. The Newport. Harry's. Fluties. Endochine. Nell's. Comell Club. The New York Yacht Club. The regular places. KIMBALL He had a yacht? BATEMAN No, he just hung out there. KIMBALL And where did he go to school? A slight pause. BATEMAN Don't you know this? KIMBALL I just wanted to know if you know. BATEMAN Before Yale? If I remember correctly, Saint Paul's... Listen, I just...I just want to help. KIMBALL I understand. He makes another note. KIMBALL Anything else you can tell me about Owen? BATEMAN We were both seven in 1969. KIMBALL (Smiles) So was I. BATEMAN Do you have any witnesses or fingerprints? KIMBALL Well, there's a message on his answering machine saying he went to London. BATEMAN Well, maybe he did, huh? KIMBALL His girlfriend doesn't think so. BATEMAN But...has anyone seen him in London? KIMBALL Actually, yes. BATEMAN Hmmm. KIMBALL Well, I've had a hard time getting an actual verification. A Stephen Hughes says he saw him at a restaurant there, but I checked it out and what happened is, he mistook a Hubert Ainsworth for Paul, so... BATEMAN Oh. KIMBALL Was he involved at all , do you think, in occultism or Satan worship? BATEMAN What? KIMBALL I know it sounds like a lame question, but in New Jersey I know this sounds like a lame question, but last month-I don't know if you've heard about this, but a young stockbroker was recently arrested and charged with murdering a young Chicano girl and performing voodoo rituals with various body parts- BATEMAN Yikes! No. Paul wasn't into that. He followed a balanced diet and- KIMBALL Yeah, I know, and was into that whole Yale thing. A pause - the longest so far. BATEMAN Have you consulted a psychic? KIMBALL No. BATEMAN Had his apartment been burglarized? KIMBALL No, it actually hadn't. Toiletries were missing. A suit was gone. So was some luggage. That's it. BATEMAN I mean no one's dealing with the homicide squad yet or anything, right? KIMBALL No, not yet. As I said, we're not sure. But... basically no one has seen or heard anything. BATEMAN That's so typical, isn't it? KIMBALL It's just strange. (He stares out the window, lost in thought) One day someone's walking around, going to work, alive, and then... BATEMAN Nothing. KIMBALL People just...disappear. BATEMAN The earth just opens up and swallows people. (He checks his Rolex) KIMBALL Eerie. Really eerie. Silence. BATEMAN (Standing up) You'll have to excuse me. I have a lunch meeting with Cliff Huxtable at Four Seasons in twenty minutes. KIMBALL Isn't the Four Seasons a little far uptown? I mean aren't you going to be late? BATEMAN Uh, no. There's one...down here. KIMBALL Oh really? I didn't know that. Bateman leads him to the door. BATEMAN Yes. It's very good. KIMBALL turns to face him. KIMBALL Listen, if anything occurs to you, any information at all... BATEMAN Absolutely, I'm 100% with you. KIMBALL Great, and thanks for your, uh, time, Mr. Bateman. Bateman closes the door firmly on KIMBALL. He closes his eyes and leans against the door, sweating. INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT - AFTERNOON A perfectly lit kitchen still-life - a bottle of Evian, a white porcelain plate on which sits a sliced kiwi, some perfect green grapes, a few berries. OFFSCREEN, the SOUND OF SCREAMS AND A CHAINSAW can be heard from the living room. The living room: Bateman is maniacally doing abdominal crunches as the television plays a video of Texas Chainsaw Massacre. There is a pile of horror videos on his coffee table, next to a copy of GQ. LATER: Bateman is sitting in his armchair, phone book in hand, jerking off. He is squealing into the phone and breathing. BATEMAN You like that, slut? The person on the other end clearly hangs up. CLOSE-UP on his fingers dialing the phone. BATEMAN You want to know what I'm wearing? Sixty-dollar boxer shorts by Ralph Lauren, a hundred-and-fifty-dollar white cotton T-shirt by Commes des Garcons. (He snorts like a pig) My Rolex cost- Another hang-up. He dials again. BATEMAN (Whipering) I'm a corporate raider. I orchestrate hostile takeovers. What do you think of that? (Makes disgusting sucking noises and grunts) Huh, bitch? GIRL (O.S.) Dad, is that you? Bateman hangs up, frustrated. EXT. STREET/INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT Bateman cruises around in the limo. It pulls up alongside CHRISTIE, a pretty blonde hooker in shorts and leather jacket. Bateman opens his window to speak to her. BATEMAN I haven't seen you around here. CHRISTIE You just haven't been looking. BATEMAN Would you like to see my apartment? Bateman flips on the light inside the limo. He's wearing a tuxedo. CHRISTIE (looking away to some dark corner) I'm not supposed to. Bateman is holding out a $100 bill, which Christie now notices, then takes. BATEMAN Do you want to come to my apartment or not? CHRISTIE I'm not supposed to. (She pockets the bill) But I can make an exception. BATEMAN Do you take American Express? Christie is still looking out behind her. BATEMAN Do you take American Express? Christie looks at him like he's crazy. BATEMAN I'm joking. Come on, get in. As they drive uptown, Bateman dials the cell-phone. He reads off a credit card number. BATEMAN I'd like a girl, early twenties, blonde, who does couples. Couples. Fifty-five West Eighty-First, the American Gardens Building. Apartment 7C. And I really can't stress blonde enough. Blonde. He hangs up. BATEMAN I'm Paul. My name is Paul 0wen, have you'got that? You are Christie. You are to respond only to Christie. Is that clear? INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Christie is in the bathtub, Bateman is pouring in white milky bath oil. BATEMAN That's a very fine Chardonnay you're drinking. Long pause, in which Christie is luxuriating in the tub and Bateman is casually touching her breast. BATEMAN I want you to clean your vagina. Christie reaches for a washcloth. BATEMAN No. From behind. Get on your knees. Christie shrugs. BATEMAN I want to watch. You have a very nice body. The doorman RINGS. Bateman answers. BATEMAN Thank you. Send her up. Christie, get out and dry off, choose a robe-not the Bijan and come and meet me and our guest in the living room for drinks. Bateman answers the door. BATEMAN You've arrived! How lovely, let me take your coat. I'm Paul. How good of you to come. The escort girl looks somewhat bewildered. Bateman takes her coat and inspects her body and face. BATEMAN Not quite blonde, are you? More dirty blonde. I'm going to call you Sabrina. I'm Paul Owen. Bateman escorts her into the living room and brings her a glass of wine. Christie enters, sitting next to Sabrina on the couch, and Bateman sits across from them. There is a long silence. BATEMAN So, don't you want to know what I do? The two girls look at each other with uncomfortable smiles. Christie shrugs. CHRISTIE No. SABRINA (Smiling) No, not really. Bateman is visibly irritated, recrosses his legs. BATEMAN Well, I work on Wall Street. At Pierce & Pierce. (Long pause) Have you heard of it? Another long pause. They shake their heads. Christie stands up and goes over to the CD collection. CHRISTIE You have a really nice place here...Paul. How much did you pay for it? BATEMAN Actually, that's none of your business, Christie, hut I can assure you it certainly wasn't cheap. Bateman leaves to refill his wine glass and Sabrina takes a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. Bateman returns, carrying a tray of chocolates. BATEMAN No, no smoking. Not in here. He walks over to Christie. BATEMAN Varda truffle? Christie stares at the plate and shakes her head. Sabrina takes one. BATEMAN I don't want you to get drunk, but that's a very fine Chardonnay you're not drinking. Bateman goes over to his CDs and scans his vast collection. He takes one out and examines it. BATEMAN Do you like Phil Collins? I've been a big Genesis fan ever since the release of their 1980 album, Duke. Before that I really didn't understand any of their work. It was too artsy, too intellectual. It was on Duke where Phil Collins' presence became more apparent. He puts aside the CD and takes out another one. BATEMAN I think "Invisible Touch" is the group's undisputed masterpiece. He puts on the song and gestures for them to follow him into the bedroom. BATEMAN It's an epic meditation on intangibility, at the same time it deepens and enriches the meaning of the preceding three albums. Christie, take off the robe. Bateman puts out a lace teddy. He motions to Christie to put it on. BATEMAN Listen to the brilliant ensemble playing of Banks, Collins and Rutherford. You can practically hear every nuance of every instrument. Sabrina, remove your dress. Bateman starts to undress. BATEMAN In terms of lyrical craftsmanship and sheer songwriting, this album hits a new peak of professionalism. Sabrina, why don't you dance a little? Sabrina dances awkwardly. Christie sits on the bed. BATEMAN Take the lyrics to "Land of Confusion." In this song, Phil Collins addresses the problem of abusive political authority. Bateman knots a silk scarf around Christie's neck - rather menacingly - then helps her into some suede gloves. BATEMAN "In Too Deep" is the most moving pop song of the 1980s about monogamy and commitment. The song is extremely uplifting. Their lyrics are as positive and affirmative as anything I've heard in rock. He turns on the video camera. BATEMAN Christie, get down on your knees, so Sabrina can see your asshole. Bateman looks through the viewfinder. BATEMAN Phill Collins solo efforts seem to be more commercial and therefore more satisfying in a narrower way, especially songs like "In the Air Tonight" and "Against All Odds." Sabrina, don't just stare at it. Eat it. He walks over to the sound system in his bedroom and slides in the CD. BATEMAN But I also think that Phill Collins works better within the confines of the group than as a solo artist-and I stress the word artist. This is "Sussudio," a great, great song, a personal favorite. SEX MONTAGE CUT TO "Sussudio." We see this in WIDE SHOT, or through the LENS OF THE VIDEO CAMERA. CUT TO: Bateman asleep in his bed with Christie and Sabrina on either side of him. Sabrina accidentally touches his wrist. Bateman's eyes open. BATEMAN Don't touch the Rolex. Bateman gets up from his bed and goes over to his armoire. He opens the drawer in which are a nail gun, a coat hanger, a rusty butter knife and a half-smoked cigar. He turns around to see Christie and Sabrina both starting to get up and get dressed. He takes the coat hanger. BATEMAN We're not through yet... CUT TO: Bateman ushering them out the door impatiently. They are both sobbing, badly bruised and bleeding. Bateman has a deep scratch on his hand and one on his shoulder. In the b.g. Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight" is playing. INT. YALE CLUB – DAY McDermott, Van Patten and Bateman are having drinks. Price walks by with a gorgeous girl and gives them the finger. BATEMAN What an asshole. McDERMOTT Why is Laurie Kennedy dating Price? He's a fucking drug addict. No self-control. VAN PATTEN But Laurie Kennedy is a total hardbody. What do you think, Bateman? BATEMAN I know her. I knew her. McDERMOTT Why do you say it like that? Why does he say it like that? VAN PATTEN Because he dated her. BATEMAN How did you guess? VAN PATTEN Girls dig Bateman. He's CQ. You're total CQ, Bateman. BATEMAN Thanks, guy, but...she's got a lousy personality. McDERMOTT So what? It's all looks. Laurie Kennedy is a babe. Don't even pretend you were interested for any other reason. VAN PATTEN If they have a good personality, then something is very wrong. McDERMOTT If they have a good personality and they are not great looking-who fucking cares? BATEMAN Well, let's just say hypothetically, okay? What if they have a good personality? (He smiles giving up) I know, I know- ALL IN UNISON There are no girls with good personalities! (They laugh and high-five each other) VAN PATTEN A good personality consists of a chick with a little hardbody who will satisfy all sexual demands without being too slutty about things and who will essentially keep her dumb fucking mouth shut. McDERMOTT Listen, the only girls with good personalities who are smart or maybe funny or halfway intelligent or even talented-though God knows what the fuck that means-are ugly chicks. VAN PATTEN Absolutely. McDERMOTT And this is because they have to make up for how fucking unattractive they are. Pause. BATEMAN Do you know what Ed Gein said about women? VAN PATTEN Ed Gein? Maitre d' at Canal Bar? BATEMAN No, serial killer, Wisconsin in the fifties. He was an interesting guy. McDERMOTT So what did Ed say? BATEMAN He said, "When I see a pretty girl walking down the street I think two things. One part of me wants to take her out and talk to her and be real nice and sweet and treat her right." Pauses, finishes his drink. McDERMOTT What does the other part of him think? BATEMAN What her head would look like on a stick. McDermott and Van Patten look at each other and then back at Bateman. Bateman starts to laugh, and the other two uneasily join In. Luis Carruthers walks up to the table. CARRUTHERS (Shyly) Hi, guys. I wanna get your opinion on something. McDermott rolls his eyes at the rest of the table. McDERMOTT If it's about the bow-tie you're wearing, you know how we feel about it. Luis laughs good-naturedly. CARRUTHERS Yes, I do. No, it's my business card-I decided to get a new one too. He pulls out something incredibly tasteful. Everyone compliments Luis except Bateman. The SOUND DROPS and all we hear is the beating of his heart as he stares at the card enviously. Luis plucks it from his hand and walks away, pleased with himself. VAN PATTEN Listen, what about dinner? BATEMAN (Suddenly angry) Is that all you ever have to contribute, Van Patten? "What about fucking dinner?" McDERMOTT Ah, cheer up, Bateman. (Slaps him on the back, massages his neck) What's the matter? No shiatsu this morning? BATEMAN (Watching Luis going into the men's room) Keep touching me like that and you'll draw back a stump. McDERMOTT Whoa, hold on there, little buddy. BATEMAN Excuse me. He gets up from the table. As Bateman walks away, Van Patten grabs a waiter. VAN PATTEN Is this tap water? I don't drink tap water Bring me an Evian or something, okay? INT. MEN'S ROOM - DAY Bateman pulls on his gloves as he enters the men's room. Carruthers is standing in a stall with his back to Bateman. The sound of his urinating is heard until Bateman approaches, then abruptly stops. Slowly, Bateman brings his hands up over the collar of Carruthers' cashmere jacket, circling his neck until both thumbs and index fingers meet. All we can hear is the sound of Bateman's heavy breathing. Slowly he starts to squeeze. Almost in slow motion, Carruthers turns around. Carruthers looks down at Bateman's wrists as if lost in thought. Then he lowers his head and kisses Bateman's wrist. He looks back at Bateman with a shy, love-struck expression, then reaches up and tenderly touches the side of his face. CARRUTHERS God, Patrick. Why here? He strokes Bateman's hair. CARRUTHERS I've seen you looking at me. I've noticed your hot body. Carruthers tries to kiss him on the lips but Bateman backs away. He drops his hands from Carruthers' neck. Carruthers immediately takes them and places them back. Bateman drops them again. CARRUTHERS Don't be shy. Bateman takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and tries to lift his hands again, but abandons the attempt. CARRUTHERS You don't know how long I've wanted it. Ever since that Christmas party at Arizona 206. You know the one, you were wearing that red-striped paisley Armani tie. Bateman looks down and sees that Carruthers' pants are still unzipped. He moves past him out of the stall and stands by the sink and pretends to wash his hands until he realizes he still has his gloves on. Carruthers comes up behind him. CARRUTHERS I want you. I want you...too. Bateman storms out of the men's room, bumping into a waiter and several customers and cursing. Noticing the maitre d' and another waiter conferring and looking at him strangely, Bateman straightens up and smiles and waves cheerfully at them. Carruthers walks up behind him. BATEMAN (Hissing) What...is...it? CARRUTHERS Where are you going? BATEMAN (Stumbling away from him) I've gotta...I've gotta...return some videotapes. CARRUTHERS Patrick? BATEMAN What? CARRUTHERS (Silently mouthing the words) I'll call you. Bateman storms out of the restaurant. INT. COURTNEY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Bateman is lying on top of Courtney in her bed, after sex. Still panting, he rolls off her, onto his back. He feels something lumpy underneath him and pulls out a stuffed toy, a black cat with blue jewel eyes. There is silence. COURTNEY Will you call me before Thanksgiving? BATEMAN Maybe. Courtney sighs and reaches for a bottle of pills on her nightstand, swallowing several. Bateman gets up and begins to dress, admiring himself in the mirror. Courtney watches the TV at low volume. COURTNEY What are you doing tonight? BATEMAN Dinner at the River Cafe. Au Bar afterwards, maybe. COURTNEY That's nice. BATEMAN You and...Luis? COURTNEY (Lighting a cigarette) We were supposed to have dinner at Tad and Maura's, but-you know how Luis is... BATEMAN I never knew you smoked. COURTNEY (Smiling sadly) You never noticed. Bateman is making final adjustments to his tie. COURTNEY Listen...Patrick. Can we talk? BATEMAN You look marvelous. There's nothing to say. You're going to marry Luis. Next week, no Less. COURTNEY (Sarcastically) Isn't that special? (A pause) Patrick? BATEMAN Yes, Courtney? C0URTNEY If I don't see you before Thanksgiving, have a nice one, okay? BATEMAN (Flatly) You too. Courtney picks up the black cat and starts petting its head. Bateman heads down the hallway to the front door. COURTNEY Patrick? BATEMAN Yes? COURTNEY Nothing. INT. NIGHTCLUB - NIGHT A big eighties nightclub with a mixed crowd: hip-hop kids, visitors from Jersey, downtown art people, yuppies. I Bateman makes his way through the crowd to the bar, and tries to attract the bartender's attention. He is wearing a suit and his tie is loosened. Kimball approaches him. KIMBALL Mr. Bateman? Bateman gasps and recovers. BATEMAN Detective Kendall...uh Campbell? KIMBALL Kimball. (Extending his hand) Call me Don. BATEMAN Don. KIMBALL So...you hang out here a lot? BATEMAN Uh, yes...I mean...whenever necessary. You know. Pause. BATEMAN How's the investigation going? Taken anyone in for "formal questioning?" (He makes quotation marks in the air and laughs a not-so-relaxed laugh) KIMBALL 0h no. Informal conversations, mostly. What's that, Stoli? BATEMAN Yeah. No Finlandia, as usual. Fucking dump. KIMBALL (Looking at his glass) Too true. You know, Bateman-people tend to reveal so much more about themselves when they're in a relaxed setting, don't you think? Bateman is nodding nervously, idiotically. KIMBALL Some people just can t help themselves. Another Stoli? Bateman shakes his head. KIMBALL I mean they want to get caught. BATEMAN Dan, great to see you again. Like I said, you need anything at all, I'm your man. I don't envy your job. I mean Owen was a...complex man. Bateman wanders away. He looks back uneasily at KIMBALL, who is watching him from the bar. A GUY WITH DREADLOCKS walks by. BATEMAN (Holding up his hand to high-five) Rasta Man! The man stares at him. BATEMAN I mean-Mon. We be jammin'... The man walks by, shaking his head. Bateman wanders into the next room, which is filled with a more familiar crowd: young men in designer suits, girls in black designer dresses. Across the room he spots McDermott and Price sitting with three models, all wearing black mini-dresses. Price and McDermott are having a whispered argument. PRICE I have to talk to these girls? They're models. McDERMOTT Someone has to get the Bolivian marching powder. You went last time. Stay here. McDermott waves gaily to the girls and disappears. Bateman looks at the models. DAISY and CARON are staring into space, smoking. LIBBY is trying to work out how to unfold her napkin. Price signals to Bateman for help. PRICE (Clapping his hands together) Let's have a conversation. So...it was hot out today, no? Silence. LIBBY Where did Craig go? PRICE Well, Gorbachev is downstairs. McDermott is going to sign a peace treaty with him between the United States and Russia. McDermott's the one behind glasnost, you know. LIBBY Well...yeah. But he told me he was in mergers and acquisitions. PRICE You're not confused, are you? LIBBY No, not really. CARON Gorbachev's not downstairs. DAISY (Smiling) Are you Iying? PRICE Yes, Caron's right. Gorbachev's not downstairs. He's at Tunnel. BATEMAN (To Daisy) Ask me a question. DAISY So, what do you do? BATEMAN What do you think I do? DAISY A model? An actor? BATEMAN No. Flattering, but no. DAISY Well... BATEMAN I m into, well, murders and executions mostly. DAISY (Unfazed) Do you like it? BATEMAN Welt...it depends, why? DAISY Well, most guys I know who work in mergers and acquisitions don't really like it. Silence. BATEMAN So, where do you work out? MUCH LATER IN THE EVENING: The club is half-empty now. Price is leaning over a balcony, messed-up on drugs. Bateman comes up behind him in a menacing way that suggests he might push him over the railing. Price turns around, wild-eyed, just as Bateman is reaching for him. PRICE (Shouting) I'm leaving. I'm getting out. BATEMAN Leaving what? PRICE This. Bateman is confused, he thinks Price is referring to his drink. BATEMAN Don't, I'll drink it. PRICE (Screaming) Listen to me, Patrick. I'm leaving. BATEMAN Where to? Are you going to go get a gram? PRICE I'm leaving! I...am...leaving! BATEMAN Don't tell me...merchant banking? PRICE No, you dumb son of a bitch. I'm serious. I'm disappearing. BATEMAN (laughing) Where to? Morgan Stanley? Rehab? What? Price looks away. McDermott and Daisy walk up to them. McDERMOTT Hey-don't worry, be happy. Price lifts his arms up as if greeting the crowd and is shouting something that can't be heard, then PRICE Goodbye! Fuckheads! He climbs over the railing. DAISY What is he doing? BATEMAN Price! Come back! Price leaps from the balcony. He disappears for a moment then resurfaces and runs off into the crowd. EXT. CLUB - NIGHT Bateman and Daisy are waiting for a cab. DAISY My ex-boyfriend, Fiddler, who was in there, he plays in this band that just opened for U2-he couldn't understand what I was doing with a yuppie. BATEMAN Oh really? DAISY He said... (She laughs) He said you gave him bad vibes. BATEMAN That's...that's too bad. DAISY You think I'm dumb, don't you? BATEMAN What? DAISY You think I'm dumb. You think all models are dumb. BATEMAN (insincerely) No. I really don't. DAISY That's okay. I don't mind. There's something sweet about you. She takes his hand as they get into a cab. INT. DAISY'S HALLWAY - LATER THAT NIGHT Bateman leaves Daisy's apartment carrying a suitcase. He pauses in the hallway and tucks some long blonde hair back inside the case. INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON Bateman sits at his desk wearing Wayfarers doing the New York Times crossword puzzle at dusk. Jean knocks gently on the half-open door and walks in with a folder in her hand. Bateman ignores her. JEAN Doin' the crossword? Bateman nods without looking up. JEAN Need help? BATEMAN doesn't respond. We see that every space on the puzzle has been filled in with the words MEAT or BONE. Jean drops the folder on his desk and then walks out. BATEMAN Jean? JEAN (Re-enters office) Yes, Patrick? BATEMAN Would you like to accompany me to dinner? He erases one of the M's on the crossword puzzle. BATEMAN That is...if you're not doing anything. JEAN Oh no. I have no plans. BATEMAN (Lowering his Wayfarers) Well, isn't this a coincidence. A pause. BATEMAN Listen, where should we go? He leans back and pulls a Zagat's from the desk drawer. JEAN Anywhere you want? BATEMAN Let's not think about what I want. How about anywhere you want. JEAN Oh Patrick, I can't make this decision. BATEMAN No, come on. Anywhere you want. JEAN Oh, I can't. (Sighs) I don't know. BATEMAN Come on. Where do you want to go? Anywhere you want. Just say it. I can get us in anywhere. A long pause. JEAN What about...Dorsia? Bateman stops looking through the Zagat's guide and smiles at her. BATEMAN Soooo...Dorsia is where Jean wants to go... JEAN Oh, I don't know. No, we'll go anywhere you want. BATEMAN Dorsia is...fine. He dials the number. MAITRE D' Dorsia, yes? BATEMAN Yes, can you take two tonight, oh, let's say at nine o'clock? He checks his Rolex and winks at Jean. MAITRE D' We are totally booked. BATEMAN Oh really? That's great. MAITRE D' I said we are totally booked. BATEMAN Two at nine? Perfect. MAITRE D' There are no tables available tonight. The waiting list is also totally booked. BATEMAN See you then. He hangs up the phone. He walks over to the coat rack. He glances over at Jean, who is still standing in front of the desk, confused. BATEMAN Yes? You're dressed...okay. JEAN You didn't give them a name. BATEMAN They know me. Pause. BATEMAN Why don't you meet me at my house at seven o'clock for drinks, okay? She turns to leave. BATEMAN And Jean? You'll want to change before we go out. INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT - EARLY EVENING Jean stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out. JEAN Patrick, it's so...elegant. What a wonderful view. Bateman opens up the freezer where Daisy's head is cleady visible. BATEMAN Jean? Sorbet? JEAN Thanks, Patrick. I'd love some. Bateman walks in with a bottle of wine and a corkscrew in his hand and hands her the sorbet. Jean is eating the sorbet. JEAN Want a bite? BATEMAN I'm on a diet. But thank you. JEAN You don't need to lose any weight. You're kidding, right? You look great. Very fit. BATEMAN (Weighing the corkscrew examining the point for sharpness) You can always he thinner. Look...better. JEAN Well, maybe we shouldn't go out to dinner. I don't want to ruin your willpower. BATEMAN No. It's all right. I'm not very good at controlling it anyway. Silence, as Bateman walks around his apartment, opens up his knife drawer, looking at the knives. BATEMAN So listen, what do you really want to do with your life? Pause. BATEMAN And don't tell me you enjoy working with children, okay? JEAN Well, I'd like to travel. And maybe go back to school, but I really don't know...I'm at a point in my life where there seems lo be a lot of possibilities, but I'm so... I don't know...unsure. Bateman is touching a knife in the drawer, feeling the edge of the blade. BATEMAN Do you have a boyfriend? JEAN No, not really. BATEMAN Interesting. JEAN (Shyly) Are you seeing anyone? I mean, seriously? BATEMAN Maybe. I don't know Not really. Bateman opens up a cupboard where there are a lot of very Bateman opens a cupboard where there are a lot of neatly ordered weapons - an ax, a rifle, a chain saw, duct tape, twine and a nail gun. BATEMAN Jean, do you feel...fulfilled? I mean, in your life? JEAN Well, I guess I do. For a long time I was too focused on my work, I think, but now I've really begun to think about changing myself, you know, developing, and...growing. BATEMAN Growing. I'm glad you said that. Bateman picks up the duct tape. BATEMAN Did you know that Ted Bundy's first dog, a collie, was named Lassie? Had you heard this? JEAN Who's Ted Bundy? BATEMAN Forget it. JEAN What's that? BATEMAN Oh. Uh, tape. Duct tape. I...need it for... taping something. Bateman goes back to the cupboard for the nail gun. JEAN Patrick, have you ever wanted to make someone happy? Jean puts her spoon down on the table. BATEMAN (Looking up from loading nails into the gun) What...No! Put it in the carton. JEAN Sorry. (She puts the spoon in the carton) BATEMAN Jean? What? JEAN Make someone happy-have you ever wanted to? From behind, we follow Bateman as he walks across the room and stands behind the couch. BATEMAN I'm looking for...I guess you could say I just want to have a meaningful relationship with someone special. JEAN Hmmmm. He points the nail gun at the back of Jean's head. The phone RINGS. Startled, Bateman hides the nail gun behind his back. The answering machine picks up. As Bateman listens he discreetly places the nail gun behind the couch. He sits down opposite Jean, enjoying her discomfort as she listens to the message. EVELYN Patrick I know you're there. Pick up the phone, you bad boy. What are you up to tonight? It's me. Don't try to hide. I hope you're not out with some little number you picked up because you're my Mr. Bateman. My boy next door. Anyway you never called me and you said you would and I'll leave a message for Jean about this too to remind you but we're having dinner with Melania and Taylor-you know Melania, she went to Sweet Briar, auld Taylor, he went to Cornell-and we're meeting at the Cornell Club, so l'll call you tomorrow morning probably-bye, honey-oopps! You hate that. Bye Mr. Big Time CEO Patrick. Bye. Bye. Silence. Jean is obviously embarrassed and upset. JEAN Was that...Evelyn? Silence. JEAN Are you still seeing her? Silence. JEAN I'm sorry, I have no right to ask that. Silence. JEAN Do you want me to go? A long pause. BATEMAN Yes. I don t think I can...control myself. JEAN I know I should go. I know I have a tendency to get involved with unavailable men, and...I mean, do you want me to go? Another long pause. BATEMAN If you stay, I think something bad will happen. I think I might hurt you. (Almost hopefully) You don't want to get hurt, do you? JEAN No. No, I guess not. I don't want to get bruised. You're right, I should go. She gets up to leave. JEAN And don't forget you have a breakfast meeting with Frederick Bennet and Charles Rust at '21. BATEMAN Thanks. It slipped my mind completely. He sinks back on the sofa and shuts his eyes. INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - DAY Bateman enters P&P, walks up the corridor and pauses outside the door to his office. He sees KIMBALL in conversation with Jean, and Jean looking through her date book. He watches for a moment, frozen with anxiety. He then bursts in, shutting the door behind him. BATEMAN Kimball-I've been wanting to talk with you, Come into my office. Jean, great jacket. Matsuda? Jean looks flustered. Kimball follows Bateman into his office. KIMBALL I actually came to see Timothy Price, but he's taken a leave of absence. BATEMAN Yeah, gone into rehab. Shame. (Hopefully) Is he a suspect? KIMBALL Not really. A pause. KIMBALL Do you remember where you were on the night of Paul's disappearance? (He checks his notebook) Which was on the twentieth of December? BATEMAN God...I guess...I was probably returning videotapes. He opens his desk drawer and pretends to search through his diary. BATEMAN I had a date with a girl named Veronica. KIMBALL Wait. That's not what I've got. BATEMAN What? KIMBALL That's not the information I've received. BATEMAN Well...I...Wait...What information have you received? KIMBALL Let's see... (He flips through his notebook) That you were with- BATEMAN Well, I could he wrong. KIMBALL Well...When was the last time you were with Paul Owen? BATEMAN (Clearly nervous and under pressure) We had...gone to a new musical called...Oh Africa, Brave Africa. It was...a laugh riot...and that's about it. I think we had dinner at Orso's. No, Petaluma. No, Orso's. The...last time I physically saw him was...at an automated teller. I can't remember which...just one that was near, um, Nell's. Kimball is clearly giving up on Bateman for now. He opens his briefcase to put away his notebook. KIMBALL Well, thank you, Mr. Bateman. BATEMAN Patrick, please. I hope I've been informative. Long day-a bit scattered. KIMBALL Listen, I'm a little spent for now but how about lunch in a week or so when I've sorted out all this information? BATEMAN Great, yes, I'd like that. KIMBALL And if you could try and pin down where you were the night of Owen's disappearance, it would make my job a lot easier. BATEMAN Absolutely. I'm with you on that one. Kimball is rifling through his briefcase. He pulls out a new shrink wrapped CD and holds it up. KIMBALL Huey Lewis and the News. Great stuff. Heard it? I just bought it on my way here. Bateman stares at the CD - stunned, terrified. BATEMAN Never. I mean...I don't really like... singers. KIMBALL Not a big music fan, eh? BATEMAN No, I like music. Just-they're-Huey's too... black sounding. For me. KIMBALL Well, to each his own. So-lunch, Thursday? I'll call your secretary about reservations. BATEMAN I'll be there. EXT. MEAT PACKING DISTRICT/INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT The same street corner where Bateman found Christie before. The limo is kept idling as he talks to her through a half-opened window. CHRISTIE I'm not so sure about this. I had to go to Emergency after last time... BATEMAN Oh this won't be anything like last time, I promise. CHRISTIE I don't think so. He hands her a $500 bill. BATEMAN Just come in the limo and talk to me for a minute. The driver's here, you'll be safe. Christie gets in hesitantly. BATEMAN Nothing like last time, promise. CHRISTIE Alright. He pours her a shot of vodka and makes her drink it. BATEMAN (Chatting as if they were at a cocktail party) So, you're looking great, how have you been? CHRISTIE (A little confused) Well, I actually might need a little surgery after last time. BATEMAN (Mock shock) Really? CHRISTIE My friend told me I should maybe even get a lawyer. BATEMAN Oh, lawyers are so complicated-don't do that. Here. He writes her a check for $I ,000 to cash and hands it to her. She snatches the check out of his hand and gets quickly out of the limo, walking hurriedly down the street. BATEMAN Bitch. He follows alongside her slowly in the limo, waving a huge wad of cash at her. She hesitates; he uses the money to lure her into the car. As she reluctantly gets into the limo, she reaches for the money. He snatches it away. BATEMAN Uh uh uh. Half now, half later. She takes the money and puts it inside her shirt. BATEMAN Okay, your name is Christie. We're meeting a friend of mine, Elizabeth. She'll be joining us in my new apartment shortly. You'll like her. She's a very nice girl. Don't say anything about yourself. Is that clear. Christie? Christie nods. INT. PAUL OWEN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The living room: ELIZABETH has kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the couch underneath the Baselitz. Elizabeth is an attractive, dark-haired society girl who models occasionally. Christie is sitting on the couch opposite her, pretending to examine a CD. ELIZABETH You look really familiar. Did you you go to Dalton? Christie shakes her head. The kitchen: Bateman is grinding up tabs of Ecstasy and putting them in a bottle of wine. In the living room, Elizabeth is still staring at Christie as if she came from Mars. ELIZABETH I think I met you at Au Bar, didn't I ? With Spicey? Christie looks blank. ELIZABETH Well, maybe not with Spicey but it was definitely at Au Bar. Christie still blank. ELIZABETH You know, Au Bar? Christie shakes her head. ELIZABETH Anyway, Au Bar sucks now, it's terrible. I went to a birth day party there for Malcolm Forbes. Oh my God, please. Bateman enters carrying the bottle of wine and two glasses. Christie, who seems frightened, sips her wine and stares at the floor. There is an awkward silence. CHRISTIE This is nicer than your other apartment. BATEMAN (Offended that she prefers Owen's apartment) It's not that nice. Silence. CHRISTIE Where did you two meet? ELIZABETH Oh God! I met him at, oh God, the Kentucky Derby in '86-no, '87, and... (Turning to Patrick) You were hanging out with that bimbo Allison Poole. (Sarcastically) Hot number. BATEMAN What do you mean, she was a hot number. ELIZABETH If you had an American Express card she'd give you a blowjob. (To Christie) Listen, this girl worked in a tanning salon, need I say more?...What do you do? A long silence. Christie reddens and stares at the floor. BATEMAN She's my...cousin. ELIZABETH (Skeptically) Uh huh? BATEMAN She's from...France. A pause. Elizabeth looks at Bateman dubiously. ELIZABETH Where's your phone? I've got to call Harley. Bateman hands her a cordless phone. She dials, and stares At Christie while she waits for someone to answer. ELIZABETH Where do you summer? Southampton? Christie looks at Bateman and then back at Elizabeth. CHRISTIE No. ELIZABETH (Listening to the receiver) Oh God, it's his machine. BATEMAN Elizabeth, it's three in the morning. ELIZABETH He's a goddamn drug dealer! These are his peak hours. BATEMAN Don't tell him you're here. ELIZABETH Why would I? Bateman has poured her another glass of wine. She downs the whole glass, making a face. ELIZABETH This tastes weird. (She examines the label and shrugs) Harley? It's me. I need your services. Translate that anyway you'd like. I'm at- BATEMAN (Whispering) You're at Paul Owen s. ELIZABETH Who? BATEMAN (Whispering) Paul Owen. ELIZABETH I want the number, idiot. (She waves him away and continues into the reciever) Anyway, I'm at Paul Norman's and I'll try you later and if I don't see you at Canal Bar tomorrow night I'm going to sic my hairdresser on you. She hangs up. ELIZABETH Did you know that guy who disappeared? Didn't he work at Pierce & Pierce, too? Was he a friend of yours? BATEMAN No. ELIZABETH Do you have any coke? Or Halcyon? I'd take a Halcyon. Bateman sits next to Elizabeth on the couch and pours her another glass of the drugged wine. BATEMAN Listen, I would just like to see...the two of you...get it on. What's wrong with that? It's totally disease-free. ELIZABETH (Laughing) Patrick, you re a lunatic. BATEMAN Come on. Don't you find Christie attractive? ELIZABETH Let's not get lewd. (Flirty) I'm in no mood to have a lewd conversation. BATEMAN Come on. I think it would be a turn-on. ELIZABETH (To Christie) Does he do this all the time? Christie shrugs. BATEMAN Christie, you're not drinking your wine. Christie looks at her wine and gingerly takes a sip. BATEMAN (To Elizabeth) Are you telling me you've never gotten it on with a girl? ELIZABETH No! I'm not a lesbian. Why do you think I'd be into that? BATEMAN Well, you went to Sarah Lawrence for one thing. ELIZABETH Those are Sarah Lawrence guys, Patrick. You're making me feel weird. LATER: Elizabeth is now writhing around on the couch and making out with Christie. Bateman holds up a Whitney Houston CD, showing them the picture of Whitney on the cover. BATEMAN Did you know that Whitney Houston's debut LP called simply Whitney Houston had four number-one singles on it? Did you know that, Christie? Whitney's voice leaps across so many boundaries and is so versatile-though she's mainly a jazz singer-that it's hard to take in the album on a first listening. ELIZABETH You actually listen to Whitney Houston? You actually have a Whitney Houston CD? More than one? She giggles, rolling off the sofa onto the floor. BATEMAN (Ignoring her) It's hard to choose a favorite track among so many great ones, but "The Greatest Love of All" is one of the best, most powerful songs ever written about self-preservation and dignity. It's universal message crosses all boundaries, and instills one with the hope that it's not too late to better ourselves. to act kinder. Since, Elizabeth, it's impossible in the world we live in to empathize with others, we can always empathize with ourselves. As he speaks, he opens the case and carefully places the CD in the player, admiring its pristine silver surface, and watches it slide into the machine. BATEMAN It's an important message, crucial, really, and it's beautifully stated on the album. INT. BEDROOM - LATER AN OUT-OF-FOCUS HOME VIDEO SHOT of Elizabeth, Christie and Bateman in the throes of sex, in the master bedroom. CUT BACK TO WIDE SHOT of the bedroom, partially blocked by the video camera in the foreground. Their bodies are an incoherent tangle of arms and legs. The only sounds are moans, heavy breathing and the slapping of flesh against flesh. CLOSE ON Christie's head and shoulders. Her eyes are shut as she grimly concentrates on giving a good professional performance, turning her head every so often to check the progress of her partners. OFFSCREEN WE HEAR Elizabeth panting in genuine pleasure, moaning loudly. Her voice gets louder and louder and then shifts to actual pain. Bateman rises up off the bed, suddenly appearing behind Christie. There is blood on his face. Christie turns her head and sees him. She screams and leaps off the bed, running out of the room. She slams the mirrored door behind her, and as it swings shut for a split second we see Elizabeth writhing in pain on the bed. We follow Christie out of the room, panicking, screaming. Christie runs down a darkened hallway, frantically opening doors, looking for an escape. She hears the SOUND OF A CHAINSAW coming from the bedroom. She opens a closet. The closet lights up as she opens the door and sees two dead, women hanging inside. She screams, then claps a hand over her mouth. She stops and listens. THE DISTANT SOUND OF THE CHAINSAW. She backs away slowly, into another dark room, lit only by the light from a television set. Through the darkness she sees a head on the top of the TV and starts to whimper. She runs toward the nearest door. Finding herself in the main hallway, she begins to jog toward the front door, then runs. Bateman appears from nowhere, holding the chainsaw, spattered with blood. Christie screams and changes direction. Bateman leaps at her, bellowing. They run through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Christie trips over Elizabeth's body, which is half in the bathtub. Both are slipping on the floor, which is slick with blood. Christie falls, tries to get up. Bateman grabs her leg. He tries to bite it. She kicks him in the face and gets up, running toward the front door. He runs after her. BATEMAN Not the face, you bitch. Not the fucking face, you piece of bitch trash! Christie, screaming, makes it out the front door. Bateman runs after her. She runs down the hall screaming and banging on doors. She moves to the elevator, pounding hysterically on the buttons. She sees the stairwell and runs for it. Bateman sees this and runs after her, revving the chainsaw. She runs down the stairs, Bateman two flights behind her. He stops, leans over the railing to look at her, then aims the chainsaw at her and drops it. Christie SCREAMS OFFSCREEN, then is suddenly silent. FROM BATEMAN'S POV we see Christie's body sprawled facedown at the bottom of the stairwell. The chainsaw sticks out of her back like a sword. INT. CRAYONS - EARLY EVENING An insanely expensive restaurant with a childhood motif: paper tablecloths and jars of crayons for drawing, lots of primary colors, and a goldfish bowl on each table. Bateman is at a table with Evelyn. They are both drawing on the tablecloth. Bateman is drawing Christie with the chainsaw in her back. EVELYN I want a firm commitment. BATEMAN I think, Evelyn, that we've...lost touch. Evelyn waves to a couple across the room. EVELYN (Distracted) Why? What's wrong? BATEMAN (Speaking very carefully, measuring each word) My need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale cannot be, um, corrected, but I have no other way to fulfill my needs. The woman across the room holds up her hand, displaying a new bracelet. Evelyn smiles and nods approvingly. BATEMAN We need to talk. EVELYN Talk about what, Patrick? What is there to talk about? BATEMAN It's over, Evelyn. It's all over EVELYN (Motioning to the waiter for water) Touchy, touchy. I'm sorry I brought the wedding up. Let's just avoid the issue, alright? Now, are we having coffee? BATEMAN I'm fucking serious. It's fucking over. Us. This is no joke. I don't think we should see each other anymore. EVELYN But your friends are my friends. My friends are your friends. I don't think it would work. (Reaching over to dab his face with a napkin) You have a little something on your upper lip. BATEMAN (Brushing her hand away) I know that your friends are my friends. I've thought about that. You can have them. Evelyn stares at him, suspicious and bewildered, a realization dawning. EVELYN You're really serious, aren't you? BATEMAN Yes, I am. EVELYN But what about the past? Our past? BATEMAN We never really shared one. EVELYN You're inhuman. BATEMAN I'm...in touch with humanity. Evelyn, I'm sorry. (He pauses, as if searching for the right words) You're just not terribly important to me. Evelyn begins to cry. EVELYN No, no, no. BATEMAN I know my behavior is...erratic sometimes. She reaches desperately across the table and takes his hand. Bateman pulls his hand away. EVELYN (Sobbing) What do you want me to do, what is it you want? The occupants of nearby tables begin to stare. Bateman is becoming increasingly agitated and embarrassed. BATEMAN (Looking uncomfortably around the room) If you really want to do something for me, you can stop making this scene right now. EVELYN Oh God, I can't believe this. BATEMAN I'm leaving now. I've assessed the situation and I'm going. Evelyn makes an effort to compose herself. She blots the tears so they will not affect her make-up. EVELYN (Surprisingly calm) Where are you going? BATEMAN I'm just leaving. EVELYN But where? BATEMAN I have to return some videotapes. He rushes out of the room. EXT. TRIBECA STREET - EVENING Bateman wanders into misty Tribeca streets, sees a stray cat. BATEMAN Here kitty, kitty. The small mangy cat rubs against him. He picks it up and walks toward an ATM, holding the cat. He puts his card in the machine. The screen reads: FEED ME A STRAY CAT. Bateman begins to attempt to shove the kitten into the deposit slot with some difficulty. The kitten squeals. He takes a gun from out of his pocket and points it at the kitten. He doesn't notice the woman waiting behind him. WOMAN Oh my God! Stop that! What are you doing? Bateman wheels around and shoots her. She falls screaming to the floor. Responding to the gunshot, A POLICE CAR SIREN WAILS in the distance. Bateman breaks into a run. The police car screeches after him. COP CAR (O.S.) HALT STOP. PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPON. Bateman ducks down an alley. EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT A COP rushes toward him, seemingly from out of nowhere, and tackles him, trying to get the gun away from him. Bateman manages to shoot the cop in the face while both of them have their hands on the gun, then shoots him again. He reloads the gun. The sound of more COP CARS arriving. He runs out of the alley. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As he reaches the street, he finds A PHALANX OF POLICE CARS approaching. COP CAR Halt. Put down your weapon. The cops leap out and fire a warning shot in the air. Bateman shoots at them. The police return fire. Bateman ducks down behind a parked car and continues shooting wildly. A bullet hits the gas tank of one of the police cars. It catches fire and explodes. The flames light up the scene, illuminating the bodies of policemen both living and dead. NEW ANGLE: Bateman flees from the scene. The camera follows him as he runs along a row of Porsches, trying to open each one, setting off a cacophony of CAR ALARMS. THE SOUND OF POLICE SIRENS draws near. NEW ANGLE: He runs, panting, until he ends up in front of a tail, brilliantly lit office building. As he approaches, the lights in the building are going off floor by floor. INT. OFFICE BUILDING - NIGHT He rushes into the lobby, running for the elevator. NIGHT WATCHMAN Burning the midnight oil, Mr. Smith? You forgot to sign in. Bateman wheels around and shoots him. He runs toward the revolving doors. As he swings around in the doors, he notices a JANITOR who has witnessed the shooting. He revolves back into the lobby and shoots the janitor. NEW ANGLE: He runs out of the building and across the street to an identical office building, the one that houses Pierce & Pierce. INT. PIERCE & PIERCE LOBBY - NIGHT Bateman nods at the Pierce & Pierce NIGHT WATCHMAN and signs in. He breathes a sigh of relief as the elevator doors close behind him. INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Bateman stands looking out through the floor-length windows at a panoramic night view of the city and the river. Below him he sees a SWAT TEAM swarming over the roof of the opposite building. There are ambulances standing by, flares everywhere, distant sirens. Suddenly, THE SOUND OF A HELICOPTER draws near. Frightened, he drops to the floor behind his desk. Helicopter searchlights scan the building, illuminating Bateman's office for a few moments with a blaze of light. He is crouched in one corner, half-sobbing, talking into the phone, as the searchlight keeps circling. BATEMAN Harold, it's Bateman. Patrick Bateman. You're my lawyer so I think you should know-I've killed a lot of people. Some escort girls, in an apartment uptown, some homeless people, maybe five or ten, an NYU girl I met in Central Park. I left her in a parking lot, near Dunkin' Donuts. I killed Bethany, my old girlfriend, with a nail gun. and a man, some old faggot with a dog. Last week I killed another girl with a chainsaw-I had to, she almost got away There was someone else there, maybe a model, I can't remember but she's dead too. And Paul Owen. I killed Paul Owen with an ax, in the face. His body is dissolving in a bathtub in Hell's Kitchen. I don't want to leave anything out here...I guess I've killed 20 people, maybe 40-I have tapes of a lot of it. Some of the girls have seen the tapes, I even... well, I ate some of their brains and I tried to cook a little. Tonight I just, well, I had to kill a lot of people and I'm not sure I 'm going to get away with it this time-I mean I guess I'm a pretty sick guy. So-if you get hack tomorrow, I may show up at Harry's Bar, so, you know, keep your eyes open. Bateman hangs up the phone. The helicopter searchlight circles back, briefly illuminating the room. The camera rises up over Bateman huddled in the corner, staring blankly at the sky. INT. SMITH AND WOLLENSKY RESTAURANT - DAY KIMBALL and Bateman are sitting at a corner table. KIMBALL (Very surprised) No hash browns? BATEMAN Not in the mood, I guess. KIMBALL But...everyone orders the hash browns here. I mean- it's-have you been here before? BATEMAN (Deliberately nonchalant) Yes, of course. The hash browns are delicious. I'm just...not... ordering them. KIMBALL (Looking at him like he's nuts) Suit yourself, I guess. Pause. KIMBALL So, the night he disappeared? Any new thoughts on what you did? BATEMAN I'm not really sure. I had a shower...and some sorbet? KIMBALL I think maybe you've got your dates mixed up. BATEMAN But how? Where do you place Paul that night? KIMBALL According to his date book, and this was verified by his secretary, he had dinner with...Marcus Halberstam. BATEMAN And? KIMBALL I've questioned him. BATEMAN Marcus? KIMBALL Yes. And he denies it. Though at first he couldn't be sure. BATEMAN But Marcus denied it? KIMBALL Yes. BATEMAN Well, does Marcus have an alibi? KIMBALL Yes. A pause. BATEMAN He does? You're sure? KIMBALL (smiling) I checked it out. It's clean. BATEMAN Oh. KIMBALL Now where were you? (He laughs) BATEMAN (Laughing with him) Where was Marcus? KIMBALL He wasn't with Paul Owen. BATEMAN So who was he with? KIMBALL He was at Atlantis with Craig McDermott, Frederick Dibble, Harry Newman, George Butner and – (He pauses, Then looks up) - you. A moment of stunned silence. BATEMAN Oh, right. Of course...We had wanted Paul Owen to come. But he said he had plans...I guess I had dinner with Victoria...the following night. KIMBALL Personally I think the guy went a little nutso. Split town for a while. Maybe he did go to London. Sightseeing. Drinking. Whatever. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he'll turn up sooner or later. (A pause) I mean, to think that one of his friends killed him, for no reason whatsoever would be too ridiculous. Isn't that right, Patrick? McDermott stops by the table. McDERMOTT KIMBALL! How's the investigation? Talking to Bateman? Don't believe a word he says. (Laughs uproariously slapping him on the back) Bateman, what's wrong with ,you? Bateman looks at him in silence, panicking. McDERMOTT You can't eat at Smith and Wollensky without ordering the hash browns. Jesus, Bateman, you're a raving maniac. Been at Pierce & Pierce too long. (He wanders off muttering) No fucking hash browns... INT. PAUL OWEN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY Bateman walks into the lobby of Paul Owen's building. He has a surgical mask in one hand. DOORMAN What can I do for you, sir? BATEMAN 20B. DOORMAN Of course. Mrs. Wolfe is up there right now. BATEMAN Mrs. Wolfe? DOORMAN The real estate agent? You do have an appointment, don't you? Bateman steps out of the elevator and walks cautiously down the hallway. Owen's door is open. The apartment is freshly painted and has been immaculately redecorated in English country-house style: overstuffed sofas, lots of chintz. There are flowers everywhere, and a YOUNG YUPPIE COUPLE stands admiring the place talkingto the realtor, MRS. WOLFE. Bateman wanders down the hallway, looking for familiar signs. He stops at the closet where we last saw two dead girls hanging. He opens the door and the light switches on, but it is empty. Mrs. Wolfe approaches, smiling. MRS. WOLFE Are you my two o'clock? BATEMAN No. Mrs. Wolfe eyes him strangely, then looks down at the surgical mash clutched in his hand. Her expression changes. MRS. WOLFE Can I help you? BATEMAN I'm looking for...Paul Owen's...place. She stares at him impassively. BATEMAN Doesn't he live here? MRS. WOLFE No, he doesn't. BATEMAN Are you sure? MRS. WOLFE You saw the ad in the Times? BATEMAN No. Yes. I mean yes, I did. In the Times. But... doesn't Paul Owen still live here? MRS. WOLFE There was no ad in the Times. Bateman is shaking as they continue to stare at each other. MRS. WOLFE I think you should go now. BATEMAN But I think...I want to know what happened here. MRS. WOLFE Don't make any trouble. Please. I suggest you go. Bateman backs away slowly. MRS. WOLFE Don't come back. BATEMAN I won't...don't worry. Mrs. Wolfe glares at him as he walks down the hall, rattled, and gets into the elevator. EXT. DEPARTMENT STORE - DAY Bateman enters the revolving door of an office building, panicking and breathing heavily. He is sweating, his hair is wild, and he looks deranged. He goes around the revolving door twice and comes out onto the street again, where he bumps smack into a GUY just like him. GUY Hey, Kinsley. Bateman looks up at him wild-eyed. GUY See you at Fluties, okay? The guy walks away, utterly unfazed. Bateman wanders down the street, banging his briefcase against walls, garbage cans, etc. EXT. MIDTOWN PHONE BOOTH - DAY Bateman searches his pockets for pills. He finds three different pills and swallows them. He's sweating, and takes his jacket off to wipe his face, dialing a number. JEAN (O.S.) Patrick Bateman's office. BATEMAN Jean? Hello? Jean? JEAN (O.S.) Patrick? Is that you? BATEMAN Hello? Jean, I need help! JEAN (O.S.) Where are you? BATEMAN Jean-I'm not- JEAN (O.S.) Craig McDermott called. He wants to meet you and David Van Patten and Tim Price at Harry's for drinks. BATEMAN Oh God, what did you say, you dumb bitch? JEAN (O.S.) Patrick? I can't hear you. BATEMAN What are I doing? JEAN (O.S.) Where are you? Patrick, what's wrong? BATEMAN I don't think I'm gonna make it, Jean. Pause. BATEMAN ...to the office this afternoon. JEAN (O.S.) Why? BATEMAN (Screaming) Just...say...no! JEAN (O.S.) What is it, Patrick? Are you alright? BATEMAN Stop sounding so Fucking sad! Jesus! He hangs up. He throws the Walkman which is around his neck into a nearby trash can, and wipes his face with his jacket. INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE- SAME DAY Jean sits at Bateman's desk. She looks around, and then opens his desk drawer and tentatively begins to search through it. INT. HARRY'S BAR - EVENING Bateman comes into the bar, a little cleaned up from the previous scene (he's smoothed his hair), but still panicking and disheveled. He spots his friends in a corner, sits down, still breathing heavily. Price is on his cell-phone, trying to get reservations. McDERMOTT Bateman, you're looking a little wild-eyed rough day at the office? They all laugh. McDERMOTT Hey, look-Price is back. And he's drinking Perrier. He s a changed man. Except...he still can't get a reservation to save his life. Bateman sits down silently. McDERMOTT Why don't you try I 50 Wooster? Just fucking call them. BATEMAN (On automatic) I'm not going anywhere unless we have a reservation. VAN PATTEN Le Cirque, Flamingo East, Oyster Bar, come on, faggots-just get a res. PRICE Keep your shirt on. Maybe lose the suspenders. Bateman spots HAROLD CARNES at the bar, tenses. BATEMAN (He downs his drink) Excuse me, gentlemen. Right back. He approaches Carnes cautiously. CARNES Face it-the Japanese will own most of this country by the end of the '90s. Bateman approaches, trying to act casual. BATEMAN Shut up, Carnes, they will not. Carnes is surprised, turns around, looks vaguely confused. BATEMAN So, Harold, did you get my message? Carnes lights a cigarette, stalling. Then laughs. CARNES Jesus, Davis. Yes. That was hilarious. That was you, wasn't it? BATEMAN (Waving smoke out of his face) Yes, naturally. CARNES Bateman killing Owen and the escort girls? Oh that s fabulous. That's rich... Pause CARNES It was a pretty long message, wasn't it? BATEMAN What exactly do you mean? CARNES The message you left. Carnes is distracted, waving at people. CARNES By the way Davis, how is Cynthia? You're still seeing her, right? BATEMAN But wait, Harold, what do you mean? Carnes isn't really listening. CARNES Excuse me. Nothing. Good to see you. Is that Edward Towers? He turns to go. BATEMAN Carnes? Wait. CARNES (Sighing) Davis. I'm not one to bad-mouth anyone, your joke was amusing. But come on, man, you had one fatal flaw: Bateman's such a dork, such a boring, spineless lightweight, that I couldn't fully appreciate it. I wasn't fooled for a second. Now, if you'd said Price, or McDermott...Otherwise, it was amusing. Now, let's have lunch or dinner or something. Hilarious, Davis. A killer. BATEMAN What are you talking about? Bateman is what? CARNES Oh Christ. He can barely pick up an escort girl, let alone...what was it you said he did to her? Carnes looks around the club, raises his glass to a passing couple. He laughs politely. CARNES Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must... BATEMAN (Desperate, shouting) Wait. Stop. You don't seem to understand. You're not really comprehending any of this. I killed him. I did it, Carnes. I'm Patrick Bateman. I chopped Owen's fucking head off. I tortured dozens of girls. The whole message I left on your machine was true. CARNES Excuse me. I really must he going. BATEMAN No! Listen, don't you know who I am? I'm not Davis, I'm Patrick Bateman! I talk to you on the phone all the time! Don't you recognize me? You're my lawyer. Carnes stares at him in confusion and annoyance. BATEMAN Now, Carnes, listen to me. Listen very, very carefully. I killed Paul Owen and I liked it. I can't make myself any clearer CARNES But that's simply not possible. And I don't find this funny anymore. BATEMAN It never was supposed to he! Why isn't it possible? CARNES (Eyeing Bateman worriedly) It's just not. BATEMAN Why not, you stupid bastard? Carnes stares at him. CARNES Because I had dinner with Paul Owen twice in London...just ten days ago. BATEMAN No, you...didn't? CARNES Now, if you'll excuse me. Bateman returns back to his friends' table, in a daze. They are all looking at the television, where Ronald Reagan is giving a speech about Iran Contra. They are halfheartedly arguing about whether or not he's lying. PRICE How can he lie like that? How can he pull that shit? VAN PATTEN What shit? Now where do we have reservations at? I mean I'm not really hungry, but I would like to have reservations somewhere. PRICE (To Bateman) I don't believe it. He looks so...normal. He seems so... out of it. So...undangerous. McDERMOTT He is totally harmless you geek. Was totally harmless. Just like you are totally harmless. But he did do all that shit and you have failed lo get us into I 50, so, you know, what can I say? PRICE I just don't see how someone, anyone, can appear that way and yet be involved in such total shit. How can you be so fucking, I don't know, cool about it? VAN PATTEN Some guys are just born cool, I guess. Bateman laughs at this. Price shoots him a look. PRICE And Bateman, what are YOU SO fucking zany about? BATEMAN I'm just a happy camper. Rockin' and a-rollin'. VAN PATTEN (To Price) Rehab's done wonders for you, pal. Working for UNICEF now? McDERMOTT Do you want another Perrier Timothy? Some seltzer water? PRICE Oh brother look-he presents himself as a harmless Old codger. But inside... Pause. PRICE But inside... The SOUNDS OF THE BAR FADE AWAY and we hear Bateman's thoughts: BATEMAN (V.O.) But inside doesn't matter... THE SOUNDS OF THE BAR RETURN. McDERMOTT (Bored) Inside? Yes, inside? Believe it or not, Price we're actually listening to you. PRICE Bateman? Come on, what do you think? Bateman looks up and smiles at Price. Then shrugs. BATEMAN Whatever. The conversation breaks up as Van Patten takes out his phone. VAN PATTEN Whose moronic idea was it to drink dry beers? I need a Scotch. The sounds of the bar fade down. The following voiceover runs over images of Bateman and his friends ordering drinks, talking on portable phones, talking, laughing - combined with images of other very similar young men at other tables drinking, talking on portable phones, talking, laughing, BATEMAN (V.O.) There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed... INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - DAY Jean is alone in Bateman's office, looking through his diary. We see the pages that she is looking at. They are filled with doodles of mutilated women and their names...Jean looks lost and frightened, and begins to cry. BATEMAN (V.O.) My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. I fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no escape. INT. HARRY'S BAR - EARLY EVENING As the film ends the camera moves CLOSE on Bateman. He is leaning back in his leather armchair, drinking a double Scotch, his eyes blank. BATEMAN (V.O.) But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. This confession has meant nothing... The camera moves up to a sign on the wall behind him: "THIS IS NOT AN EXIT." CREDITS ROLL