Bateman: That's 'bone'. And the lettering is something called 'silian rail'.
Van Paten (laying his card down next to Patrick's): Cool, Bateman. But that's nothing.
Bryce: That is really nice.
Van Paten: Eggshell with romalian type. What do you think?
Bateman (visibly jealous): Nice.
Bryce: How did a nitwit like you get so tasteful?
Biting his nails, Patrick can't believe Bryce prefers Van Paten's card.
Bryce (taking out his own card): You ain't seen nothing yet. Raised lettering, pale nimbus, white.
Another tremor goes through the room. Holding back his rage, Bateman tells him it's very nice.
Bateman: Let's see Paul Allen's card.
Bryce takes it out of his pocket and hands it to Bateman. It shines with an ethereal glow in the dim light of the conference room, even though it is basically identical to the rest of their cards. Narrating, Patrick says
Bateman: Look at the subtle off-white coloring. The tasteful thickness of it. Oh my God. It even has a watermark!
He drops the card on the table.
Luis: Something wrong? Patrick? You're sweating.
Nighttime. Patrick walks by a courthouse on his way home. Steam rises from underground vents. He walks through an alley, a black shadow under a pale streetlight. He stops and looks behind him, to see a homeless man by some piles of trash.
Bateman (starts taking out some money): Hello. Pat Bateman. Do you want some money? Some food?
Bum: I'm hungry.
Bateman: It's cold out too isn't it? If you're so hungry, why don't you get a job?
The bum says he lost his job.
Bateman: Why? Were you drinking? Insider trading? Just joking.
He asks him his name, and the bum says his name is Al.
Bateman: Get a god-damn job, Al! You have a negative attitude. That's what's stopping you.
He promises to help him get his act together. Al tells him he's a kind man. He puts his hand on Patrick's arm, and Patrick pulls it off, visibly disgusted.
Bateman: You know how bad you smell? You reek of shit. You know that?
He laughs, and then apologizes.
Bateman (bends down and opens his briefcase): I don't have anything in common with you.
Al: Oh thank you mister, thank you. It's cold out here...
Bateman: You know what a fucking loser you are?
Patrick suddenly takes a knife out of the briefcase and stabs the bum three times in the stomach, than pushes the shocked man to the ground. The dog barks at Patrick, so he stomps it with his foot, hard enough to kill it. He picks up his briefcase and walks away down the alley.
A health spa. A young Asian woman rubs some lotion on Patrick's face. She compliments him on his smooth skin. Later, another Asian woman gives him a manicure.
Bateman (lying in a tanning bed now): I have all the characteristics of a human being. Flesh. Blood. Skin. Hair. But not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed, and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside me, and I don't know why.
Bateman: My nightly bloodlust has overflowed into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
A Christmas party. A short man in an elf costume hands out glasses of champagne. 'Deck The Halls' is playing in the background. Patrick takes one, scowling at the bizarre costumes. Someone comes up to him and calls him by the wrong name.
Bateman: Hey Hamilton. Have a holly-jolly Christmas. Is Allen still handling the Fisher account?
Hamilton (points to Paul Allen across the room): Of course. Who else?
Evelyn (approaches): Mistletoe alert! Merry X-mas Patrick. You're late honey.
Bateman: I've been here the entire time, you just didn't see me.
A man behind him puts cloth antlers on Patrick's head without him noticing.
Woman (tone of childish voice): Say hello to Snowball. Snowball says 'hello Patrick'.
Bateman (looks with disgust at the creature in her arms): What is it?
Woman: It's a little baby piggy-wiggy, isn't it? It's a Vietnamese potbellied pig. They make darling pets. Don't you? Don't you?
Patrick looks ready to vomit as she pets the animal.
Woman: Stop scowling Patrick. You're such a Grinch. What does Mr. Grinch want for Christmas? And don't say breast implants again.
Ignoring her, he goes to mingle with the rest of the party.
'Joy to the World' is playing. He says hi to Paul Allen.
Allen: Hey Marcus. Merry Christmas, how've you been. Workaholic I suppose?
He calls to Hamilton that they are going to Nell's bar, and that the limo is out front. Patrick says that they should have dinner. Paul suggests that he bring Cecilia.
Bateman: Cecilia would adore it.
Allen: Then let's do it, Marcus.
Evelyn comes up to them. Paul compliments her on the party, and then walks away.
Evelyn: Why is he calling you Marcus?
Bateman (ignoring her question): Mistletoe alert!
He kisses her while waving a leafy branch.
A restaurant. Most of the tables are empty. Patrick takes his reservation under the name Marcus Halberstram. He is led to a table where Paul is already seated, and he is arguing with a waiter.
Allen: I ordered the cilantro crawfish gumbo, which is of course the only excuse one could have for being at this restaurant, which is, by the way, almost completely empty.
Patrick ignores this and orders a J&B straight and a Corona. The waiter, who looks slightly effeminate and has a red bandana around his neck, starts to list the specials, but Paul cuts him off and orders a 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.
Allen (sarcastically): This is a real beehive of activity Halberstram. This place is hot, very hot.
Bateman: The mud soup and charcoal arugula are outrageous here.
Paul derides him for being late.
Bateman: I'm a child of divorce, give me a break. I see they've omitted the pork loin with lime Jell-o.
Paul says he could have gotten them a table at Dorsia instead.
Bateman (looking behind him): Nobody goes there anymore. Is that Ivana Trump?
Allen: Oh geez Patrick. I mean Marcus. What are you thinking? Why would Ivana be at Texarkana?
He asks how Paul ended up getting the Fisher account.
Allen: Well I could tell you that Halberstram... but then I'd have to kill ya!
He laughs. Patrick simply stares at him with a vicious smile. They pick at their meals.
Bateman: I like to dissect girls. Did you know I'm utterly insane?
Paul doesn't seem to hear him. He compliments him on his tan. When Patrick says he goes to a salon, Paul says he has a tanning bed at home.
Allen: You should look into it.
Patrick can barely suppress his rage. Paul asks about Cecilia.
Bateman: I think she's having dinner with Evelyn Williams.
Allen: Evelyn! Great ass. She goes out with that loser Patrick Bateman, what a dork!
Bateman (chuckles with inner contempt): Another martini Paul?
Patrick's apartment. Paul lounges drunk on a chair with a bottle of liquor on the floor beside him. Newspapers are taped to the floor of the living room. Patrick picks up a CD.
Bateman: Do you like Huey Lewis and the News?
Allen: They're OK," says Paul.
Bateman (continues): Their early work was a little too new wave for my tastes, but when 'Sports' came out in '83, I think they really came into their own. Commercially and artistically. (he goes to the bathroom and puts on a raincoat) The whole album has a clear crisp sound, and a new sheen of consummate professionalism, that really gives the songs a big boost!
He takes a valium, washes it down, looks at himself in the mirror, and walks back into the living room. On his way back he grabs an axe. Moonwalking backwards, he says that Huey has been compared to Elvis Costello, but that Huey has a more cynical sense of humor. He puts the axe down and starts buttoning up the raincoat behind Paul.
Allen (laughs): Hey Halberstram, why are there copies of the Style section all over the floor? Do you have a dog? A little chow or something?
Bateman: No Allen.
Allen: Is that a raincoat?
Bateman: Yes it is!
He goes over to the CD player and presses a button. The song 'Hip to Be Square' starts playing.
Bateman: In '87, Huey released this, Fore, their most accomplished album. I think their undisputed masterpiece is 'Hip to Be Square'.
He dances over to the kitchen where he left the axe.
Bateman: The song is so catchy, 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 also a personal statement about the band itself! Hey Paul!
Paul looks around too late to see Patrick charge at him with the axe. Screaming, he swings it into Paul's head splattering blood all over his own face.
Paul falls to the floor, pouring blood all over the newspapers.
Bateman (yelling): Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now you fucking stupid bastard!
He swings it down again, and again, screaming, decapitating him.
Bateman: You... fucking... bastard!
He finally drops the axe and begins composing himself. He takes off the raincoat.
He fixes his hair and lights up a cigar. 'Hip to Be Square' continues to play from the stereo. Patrick drags the body through the lobby of his building in a black bag. A trail of blood pours from the bottom of the bag. The doorman looks up at him, and then goes back to writing something. Patrick hails a cab outside, and starts stuffing the bag into the trunk. A voice says his name from the sidewalk. It's Luis.
Luis: Patrick. Is that you?
Bateman: No Luis. It's not me. You're mistaken.
He introduces Patrick to an attractive Asian woman.
Luis: We're going to Nell's. Gwendolyn's father is buying it. Ooh. Where did you get that overnight bag?
He eyes the bag with the corpse inside it.
Bateman: Jean-Paul Gaultier.
Patrick slams the trunk and heads off.
Later, he arrives at Paul's apartment.
Bateman (narration): I almost panic when I realize that Paul's place overlooks the park, and is obviously more expensive than mine.
He finds his suitcases and starts to pack.
Bateman: It's time for Paul to take a little trip.
He throws some clothes in a suitcase, and then goes to the answering machine. In his best imitation of Paul's voice, he records . . .
Bateman: It's 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.
He takes the suitcase and leaves.