Pulp Fiction

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Pulpfiction is a 1994 independent film about the lives of two mob hit men, a boxer, a gangster's wife, and a pair of diner bandits that intertwine in four tales of violence and redemption.

Written and directed by Quentin Tarantino, released by Miramax.

Contents

[edit] Jules Winnfield

  • I wouldn't go so far as to call the brother fat. I mean, he's got a weight problem. What's the nigga gonna do? He's Samoan.
  • Ain't no fucking ball park neither! Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but you know touching his wife's feet and sticking your tongue in the holiest of holies ain't the same fucking ball park. It ain't the same league. It ain't even the same fucking sport! Look, foot massages don't mean shit!
  • Motherfucker do that shit to me, he better paralyze my ass because I'd kill the motherfucker, know what I'm saying?
  • Hamburgers! The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast.
  • Mm-hmm! This is a tasty burger!
  • [Jules shoots Brett's friend] Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration? You were saying something about "best intentions". What's the matter? Oh, you were finished? Well, allow me to retort!
  • Say "what" again! Say "what" again! I dare you! I double-dare you, motherfucker! Say "what" one more God damn time!
  • Did you see the size of the gun he just fired at us? It was bigger than him!
  • We should be fucking dead, my friend.
  • This was divine intervention. Do you know what divine intervention is?
  • That's right, that's exactly what it means. God came down from heaven and stopped these motherfucking bullets.
  • Wrong! Wrong. This shit doesn't "just happen".
  • What happened here today was a miracle, and I want you to fucking acknowledge it!
  • Whether or not what we experienced was an "according to Hoyle" miracle is insignificant. What is significant is that I felt the touch of God. God got involved.
  • We gotta get this car off the road! You know, cops tend to notice shit like you're driving a car drenched in fucking blood.
  • If my answers frighten you, Vincent, then you should cease asking scary questions.
  • I used the same fucking soap you did, and when I finished, the towel didn't look like no God damn maxi-pad.
  • Well, yeah. I was just sitting here, eating my muffin, drinking my coffee, when I had what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity.
  • Yolanda, I thought you said you were gonna be cool. Now, when you yell at me, it makes me nervous. And when I get nervous, I get scared. And when motherfuckers get scared, that's when motherfuckers accidentally get shot. But I don't want that. And you don't want that. And Ringo here definitely doesn't want that.
  • Normally, both of your sorry asses would be deader than fucking fried chicken by now, but you happened to pull this shit while I'm in a transitional period, so I don't wanna kill you. I wanna help you. But I can't give you what's in this case, it doesn't belong to me. Besides, I've already been through too much shit this morning over this case to just hand it over to your dumb asses.
  • There's this passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is The Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee."[1] I been saying that shit for years. And if you heard it, that meant your ass. I never gave much thought to what it meant. I just thought it was some cold-blooded shit to say to a motherfucker before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this morning made me think twice. See, now I'm thinking, maybe it means you're the evil man, and I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or, it could mean you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd.
  • [When Pumpkin asks which wallet in the bag is his] It's the one that says bad motherfucker.
  • [After opening trunk] We should have had shotguns for this kinda deal.
  • [When the manager tells him to stop causing problems and getting them all killed] Shut the fuck up, fat man, this ain't none of your god-damned business!
  • Oh, oh – you ready to blow?! Well, I'm a mushroom-cloud-laying motherfucker, motherfucker! Every time my fingers touch brain, I'm Superfly TNT! I'm the Guns of the Navarone! In fact, what the fuck am I doing in the back?! You're the motherfucker who should be on brain detail! We're fucking switching, I'm washing the windows and you're picking up this nigger's skull.

[edit] Vincent Vega

  • You don't fuck with another man's vehicle. It's just against the rules.
  • [To himself] So you're gonna go out there, drink your drink, say "Goodnight, I've had a very lovely evening", go home, jerk off. And that's all you're gonna do.
  • Well, you gotta have an opinion! I mean, do you think that God came down from heaven and stopped the – [he accidentally shoots Marvin]
  • Oh man, I just shot Marvin in the face.
  • Chill out, man, I told you it was an accident. We probably went over a bump or something.
  • Why didn't you tell us there was someone in the bathroom? Slipped your mind? You forgot to mention someone's in the bathroom with a goddamn handcannon?!
  • [When asked what divine intervention is] I think so … it means God came down from heaven and stopped the bullets.
  • Chill, Jules, this shit happens.
  • Fuck you, Lance, answer!
  • Would you like to continue this theological discussion in the car, or in the jailhouse with the cops?
  • Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go home and have a heart attack.
  • Jules, if you give that fucking nimrod $1,500, I'm gonna shoot them both on general principle.

[edit] Butch Coolidge

  • I'm American, honey. Our names don't mean shit.
  • Sorry, baby. I had to crash that Honda.
  • That's how you're gonna beat them, Butch. They keep underestimating ya …
  • It's not a motorcycle. It's a chopper, baby.
  • Zed's dead, baby. Zed's dead.
  • If you had a pot-belly, I would punch you in it.

[edit] Lance

  • Hey, uh, what do you think about Trudi? She ain't got a boyfriend. You want to, uh, hang out, get high?
  • Are you talking to me on a cellular phone? I don't know you, who is this? Don't come here, I'm hanging up the phone, prank caller. Prank caller!
  • I ain't never done it before either, all right? I ain't starting now. Look, you brought her here, and that means you're gonna give her the shot. The day that I bring an O.D.-ing bitch to your house, then I give her the shot. Give her the shot.

[edit] Marsellus Wallace

  • I think you are gonna find, when this shit is over … I think you're gonna find yourself one smiling motherfucker. The thing is, Butch, right now, you've got ability. But painful as it may be, ability don't last. And your days are just about over. Now, that's a hard motherfucking fact of life. But it's a fact of life your ass is gonna have to get realistic about. See, this business is filled to the brim with unrealistic motherfuckers. Motherfuckers who thought their ass would age like wine. If you mean it turns to vinegar, it does. If you mean it gets better with age, it don't. Besides, Butch, how many fights you think you got left in you anyway? Two? Boxers don't have an "old timer's league". You came close, but you never made it, and if you were gonna make it, you would have made it before now.
  • The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting. That's pride fucking with you. Fuck pride. Pride only hurts, it never helps.
  • Vincent Vega, my nigger! Get your motherfucking white ass over here!
  • I'm prepared to scour the Earth for that motherfucker. If Butch goes to Indo-China, I want a nigger hiding in a bowl of rice waiting to pop a cap in his ass.
  • Nah, man. I'm pretty fucking far from OK.
  • What now? Let me tell you what now. I'm gonna call a couple of hard, pipe-hitting niggers to go to work on the homes here with a pair of pliers and a blow torch. You hear me talking, hillbilly boy? I ain't through with you! Not by a damn sight. I'm gonna get medieval on your ass!

[edit] Mia Wallace

  • Warm … warmer … disco.
  • I'll be down in two shakes of a lamb's tail.
  • It was a show about female secret agents called Fox Force Five. … "Fox", as in we're a bunch of foxy chicks; "Force", as in we're a force to be reckoned with; and "Five", as in there's 1-2-3-4-5 of us.
  • No, no, no. You can't promise something like that. I have no idea what you're gonna ask me. So you can go ahead and ask me what you're going to ask me, and my natural response could be to get offended! Then, through no fault of my own, I would have broken my promise.
  • Only thing Antoine ever touched of mine was my hand when he shook it … at my wedding. … Truth is, nobody knows why Marsellus threw Tony out of that fourth-story window except Marsellus and Tony. When you little scamps get together, you're worse than a sewing circle.
  • Trying to forget something as intriguing as this would be an exercise in futility.
  • I do believe Marsellus – my husband, your boss – told you to take me out and do whatever I wanted. Now I wanna dance, I wanna win, I want that trophy. So dance good.
  • Three tomatoes are walking down the street, papa tomato, mama tomato, and baby tomato. Baby tomato starts lagging behind. The papa tomato gets really angry, goes back and squishes him, says: "Ketchup!"
  • I said God damn … God damn!
  • Don't be a (square)
  • [To Vincent, after he says maybe he has cooties] Cooties I can handle.
  • That's when you know you've found somebody really special, when you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share a silence.

[edit] Winston Wolfe

  • Toluca Lake. It's thirty minutes away. I'll be there in ten.
  • I'm Winston Wolfe. I solve problems.
  • You have a corpse in a car, minus a head, in the garage. Take me to it.
  • You know what you two look like? Like a couple of guys who just blew off somebody's head. Stripping off those bloody rags is absolutely necessary.
  • Well, let's not start sucking each other's dicks quite yet.
  • How about you, Lash Larue? Can you keep your spurs from jingling and jangling?
  • Of course, just because you are a character, doesn't mean you have character.
  • Now I drive real fucking fast, so keep up. If I get my car back any different than I gave it, Monster Joe's gonna be disposing of two bodies.
  • Rather you than me, gentlemen. Rather you than me.
  • Pretty please, with sugar on top – clean the fucking car!
  • How about you, Jimmy? Are you an oak man?

[edit] Others

  • Captain Koons: Hello, little man. Boy, I sure heard a bunch about you. See, I was a good friend of your dad's. We were in that Hanoi pit of hell together for over five years. Hopefully, you'll never have to experience this yourself, but when two men are in a situation like me and your dad were, for as long as we were, you take on certain responsibilities of the other. If it had been me who had not made it, Major Coolidge would be talking right now to my son Jim. But the way it turned out is I'm talking to you, Butch. I got something for ya. [Holds up watch] This watch I got here was first purchased by your great-grandfather during the first world war. It was bought in a little general store in Knoxville, Tennessee, made by the first company to ever make wrist watches. Up until then, people just carried pocket watches. It was bought by Private Doughboy Ryan Coolidge the day he set sail for Paris. This was your great-grandfather's war watch, and he wore it every day he was in the war. Then when he had done his duty, he went home to your great-grandmother, took the watch and put it in an old coffee can. And in that can it stayed 'til your granddad Dane Coolidge was called upon by his country to go overseas and fight the Germans once again. This time they called it World War Two. Your great-granddad gave this watch to your granddad for good luck. Unfortunately, Dane's luck wasn't as good as his old man's. Dane was a Marine and he was killed along with all the other Marines at the battle of Wake Island. Your granddad was facing death, and he knew it. None of those boys had any illusions about ever leaving that island alive. So three days before the Japanese took the island, your granddad asked a gunner on an Air Force transport named Winocki, a man he had never met before in his life, to deliver to his infant son, who he had never seen in the flesh, his gold watch. Three days later, your grandfather was dead. But Winocki kept his word. After the war was over, he paid a visit to your grandmother, delivering to your infant father, his Dad's gold watch. This watch. This watch was on your Daddy's wrist when he was shot down over Hanoi. He was captured and put in a Vietnamese prison camp. He knew if the gooks ever saw the watch that it'd be confiscated; taken away. The way your Dad looked at it, this watch was your birthright. He'd be damned if any slopes were gonna put their greasy yellow hands on his boy's birthright. So he hid it in the one place he knew he could hide something. His ass. Five long years, he wore this watch up his ass. Then when he died of dysentery, he gave me the watch. I hid this uncomfortable hunk of metal up my ass for two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family. And now, little man, I give the watch to you.
  • Maynard: Nobody kills anybody in my place of business except me or Zed. [Doorbell rings] That's Zed.
  • Zed: Eeny meany miney mo, catch a nigger by the toe … if he hollers, let him go … eeny meany miney … [points at Marsellus]
  • Jimmy: I don't need you to tell me how fucking good my coffee is, okay? I'm the one who buys it, I know how good it is. When Bonnie goes shopping, she buys shit. Me, I buy the gourmet expensive stuff because when I drink it, I want to taste it. But you know what's on my mind right now? It ain't the coffee in my kitchen, it's the dead nigger in my garage.
  • Jimmy: No, let me ask you a question. When you came pulling in here, did you see a sign out in front of my house that said Dead Nigger Storage?
  • Jimmy: Cause it ain't there, 'cause storing dead niggers ain't my fucking business, that's why!
  • Jimmy (after Winston Wolfe offers him money for a new bedroom): Oak's nice.
  • Marvin: Man, I don't even have an opinion.

[edit] Dialogue

Pumpkin: The way it is now, you're taking the same risk as when you rob a bank. You take more of a risk, banks are easier. Federal banks ain't supposed to stop you in any way during a robbery. I mean, they're insured, why should they give a fuck? You don't even need a gun in a federal bank. I heard of this one guy, walks into a bank with a portable phone. He gives the phone to the teller, a bloke on the other end of the line says, we've got this guy's little girl, if you don't give him all your money, we're gonna kill her.
Honey Bunny: Did it work?
Pumpkin: Fucking-A right, it worked. That's what I'm saying. Knucklehead walks into a bank with a telephone! Not a pistol, not a shotgun, but a fucking phone. Cleans the place out, don't even lift a fucking finger.
Honey Bunny: Did they hurt the little girl?
Pumpkin: I don't know, there probably never was a little girl in the first place. The point of the story isn't the little girl, the point of the story is they robbed a bank with a telephone.
Honey Bunny: You want to rob banks?
Pumpkin: I'm not saying I want to rob banks, I'm just illustrating that if we did, it'd be easier than what we've been doing.
Honey Bunny: No more liquor stores?
Pumpkin: What have we been talking about? Yeah, no more liquor stores. Besides, it ain't the giggle it used to be. Too many foreigners own liquor stores. Vietnamese, Koreans, they don't understand fucking English. You tell them, empty out the register, they don't know what the fuck you're talking about. They make it too personal, if we keep on, one of these gook fuckers is gonna make us kill him.
Honey Bunny: I'm not gonna kill anybody.
Pumpkin: I don't want to kill anybody either. But they'll probably put us in a situation where it's us or them. And if it's not the gooks, it's these old fucking Jews who've owned the store for fifteen fucking generations, you've got Grampa Irving sitting behind the counter with a fucking Magnum in his hand. Try walking into one of those places with nothing but a phone, see how far you get.
Honey Bunny: So what then, day jobs?
Pumpkin: Not in this life.
Honey Bunny: What then? … This place? A coffee shop?
Pumpkin: Why not? Nobody ever robs restaurants. Bars, liquor stores, gas stations … you get your head blown off sticking up one of them. Restaurants on the other hand, you catch with their pants down. They're not expecting to get robbed. Not as expectant, anyway.
Honey Bunny: I bet you could cut down on the hero factor in a place like this.
Pumpkin: Correct, same as banks, these places are insured. Manager? He don't give a fuck. He's just trying to get you out the door before you start plugging the diners. Waitresses? Fucking forget it! No way they're taking a bullet for the register. Busboys? Some wetback getting paid a dollar-fifty an hour, really give a fuck you're stealing from the owner? Customers are sitting there with food in their mouths, they don't know what's going on. One minute they're having a Denver omelette, next minute somebody's sticking a gun in their face. See, I got the idea, last liquor store we held up, all the customers kept coming in?
Honey Bunny: Yeah.
Pumpkin: And you got the idea of taking their wallets. Now that was a good idea.
Honey Bunny: Thank you.
Pumpkin: Made more from the wallets than we did from the register.
Honey Bunny: Yes, we did.
Pumpkin: A lot of customers come into a restaurant.
Honey Bunny: A lot of wallets.
Pumpkin: Pretty smart, eh?
Honey Bunny: Pretty smart! … I love you, Pumpkin.
Pumpkin: I love you, Honey Bunny. [Stands and brandishes a gun] Everybody be cool, this is a robbery!
Honey Bunny: Any of you fucking pricks move, and I'll execute every motherfucking last one of you!
Jules: So, tell me again about the hash bars.
Vincent: Okay, what you wanna know?
Jules: Hash is legal there, right?
Vincent: Yeah, it's legal, but it ain't a hundred percent legal. I mean, you can't walk into a restaurant, roll a joint and start puffing away. You're only supposed to smoke in your home or certain designated places.
Jules: And those are hash bars?
Vincent: It breaks down like this: it's legal to buy it, it's legal to own it, and if you're the proprietor of a hash bar, it's legal to sell it. It's legal to carry it, but that doesn't really matter 'cause – get a load of this – if you get stopped by the cops in Amsterdam, it's illegal for them to search you. I mean, that's a right the cops in Amsterdam don't have.
Jules (laughing): Oh man, I'm going, that's all there is to it. I'm fucking going.
Vincent: Yeah baby, you'd dig it the most.
Vincent: You know what the funniest thing about Europe is?
Jules: What?
Vincent: It's the little differences. I mean, they got the same shit over there that they got here, but it's just – it's just there it's a little different.
Jules: Example.
Vincent: All right. Well, you can walk into a movie theater in Amsterdam and buy a beer. And I don't mean just like in no paper cup, I'm talking about a glass of beer. And in Paris, you can buy a beer at McDonald's. And you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?
Vincent: Nah, man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.
Jules: What do they call it?
Vincent: They call it a "Royale with Cheese."[2]
Jules: "Royale with Cheese."
Vincent: That's right.
Jules: What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: A Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "Le Big Mac".
Jules: "Le Big Mac." [laughs] What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King. But, you know what they put on French fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
Jules: What?
Vincent: Mayonnaise.
Jules: God damn!
Vincent: I seen them do it, man, they fucking drown them in that shit.
Jules: That's some fucked up shit.
Jules: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. Eating a bitch out and giving a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fucking thing.
Vincent: It's not, it's the same ballpark.
Jules: It ain't no fucking ball park neither! Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but you know touching his wife's feet and sticking your tongue in the holiest of holies ain't the same fucking ball park. It ain't the same league. It ain't even the same fucking sport! Look, foot massages don't mean shit!
Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?
Jules: Don't be telling me about foot massages, I'm the foot fuckin' master.
Vincent: Given a lot of them?
Jules: Shit, yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothing.
Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?
Jules: … Fuck you.
Vincent: You give them a lot?
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired, I could use a foot massage myself.
Jules: Yo-yo-yo, man, you best back off, I'm getting pissed here. Look, just 'cause I wouldn't give no man a foot massage don't make it right for Marsellus to throw Antoine into a glass motherfucking house fucking up the way the nigger talks. That shit ain't right. Motherfucker do that shit to me, he better paralyze my ass because I'd kill the motherfucker, know what I'm saying?
Vincent: I ain't saying it's right. But you're saying a foot massage don't mean nothing, and I'm saying it does. Now look, I've given a million ladies a million foot massages, and they all meant something. We act like they don't, but they do, and that's what's so fucking cool about them. There's a sensuous thing going on where you don't talk about it, but you know it, she knows it, fucking Marsellus knew it, and Antoine should have fucking better known better. I mean, that's his fucking wife, man, he can't be expected to have a sense of humor about that shit. You know what I'm saying?
Jules: That's an interesting point.
[Vincent and Jules walk into the apartment. They don't look happy]
Jules: Hey kids, how you boys doing?
[One starts to get up]
Jules: Keep chilling … you know who we are? We are associates of your business partner Marsellus Wallace. You do remember your business partner, don't 'cha?
[Nervous silence]
Jules: Now let me take a wild guess here. [Points at a young man sitting at a table eating breakfast] You're Brett, right?
Brett: Yeah …
Jules: I thought so. You remember your business partner Marsellus Wallace, don't 'cha, Brett?
[Vincent walks behind Brett into the kitchen]
Brett: Yeah, I-I remember.
Jules: Good. It looks like me and Vincent caught you boys at breakfast. Sorry about that. What 'cha having?
Brett: Hamburgers.
Jules: Hamburgers! The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast. What kinda hamburgers?
Brett: Um, gi-giant ch-cheeseburgers.
Jules: No, no-no-no-no, where'd you get them? McDonald's, Wendy's, Jack-in-the-Box, where?
Brett: Uhm, Big Kahuna Burger.
Jules: Big Kahuna Burger! That's that Hawaiian burger joint. I hear they got some tasty burgers. Ain't never had one myself. How are they?
Brett: Th-they're good.
Jules: You mind if I try one of yours?
[They shake their heads]
Jules: This is yours here, right?
[Jules picks up a cheeseburger and takes a bite]
Jules: Mm-hmm! This is a tasty burger! Vincent! You ever had a Big Kahuna burger?
[Vincent shakes his head]
Jules: Want a bite? They're real tasty.
Vincent: Ain't hungry.
Jules: Well, if you like burgers, give them a try sometime. Me, I can't usually get them 'cause my girlfriend's a vegetarian, which pretty much makes me a vegetarian. I do love the taste of a good burger. Mmm. [To Brett] You know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in France?
Brett: No.
Jules: Tell them, Vincent
Vincent: Royale with Cheese.
Jules: Royale with Cheese. Know why they call it that?
[Brett shrugs]
Brett: Uh, because of the metric system?
Jules: Check out the big brain on Brett! You're a smart motherfucker. That's right. The metric system.
[Jules tosses the burger down on the table. He points at a plastic cup]
Jules: What's in this?
Brett: Sprite.
Jules: Sprite, good. Do you mind if I have some of your tasty beverage to wash this down?
Brett: Go right ahead.
[Jules picks up the Sprite and drinks it]
Jules: Ah. That hit the spot.
[Jules points at the other guy on the couch]
Jules: You, Flock-of-Seagulls, know why we're here? Why don't you tell my man Vince were you got the shit hid at.
[The third man, Marvin, behind Jules, in a corner, speaks]
Marvin: It's over there …
Jules (shouting): I don't remember asking you a GOD-DAMN THING!!!
[To Flock-of-Seagulls]
Jules: You were saying?
Flock-of-Seagulls: In the cupboard. N-no, the one by your knees.
[Vincent pulls out a black briefcase, unlocks it, and looks at the glowing light inside]
Jules: We happy?
[No answer]
Jules: Vincent! Are we happy?
Vincent: Yeah, we happy.
Brett (to Jules): Look, I'm sorry, I didn't get your name. I got yours … uh, Vincent, right? But I I did–
Jules: My name is Pitt, and your ass ain't talking your way outta this shit.
Brett (rising): No, no, no … I just want you to know how …
[Jules motions him to sit down]
Brett: I just want you to know how sorry we are that that things got so fucked up with us and Mr. Wallace. It, we-we got into this thing with the best intentions. I never really …
[Jules shoots Flock-of-Seagulls, Brett recoils in horror]
Jules: Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration? I didn't mean to do that...You were sayin' something about "best intentions". What's the matter? Oh! Y-You were finished? Oh, well allow me to retort!
[Jules looks pretty upset]
Jules: What does Marsellus Wallace look like?
Brett: What?
Jules (flips table out of the way): What country are you from?
Brett: What?
Jules: "What" ain't no country I ever heard of! They speak English in "What"?!
Brett: What?
Jules: English, motherfucker!!! Do you speak it?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Then you know what I'm saying. Describe, what Marsellus Wallace, looks like!
Brett: What?
Jules (points gun at Brett): Say "what" again! SAY "WHAT" AGAIN!!! I dare you!!! I DOUBLE-DARE you, motherfucker!!! Say "what" ONE MORE GODDANM TIME!!!
Brett: Heh-he's black.
Jules: Go on!
Brett: He's bald.
Jules: Does he look like a bitch?
Brett: What?
Jules (shoots Brett in the shoulder, Brett screams): Does - he - look … like-a bitch?!
Brett (in pain): No!!!!!
Jules: Then why'd you try to fuck him like a bitch, Brett?
Brett: I didn't!
Jules: Yes, you did!! Yes, you did, Brett! You tried to fuck him! And Marsellus Wallace don't like to be fucked by anybody, except Mrs. Wallace. You read the Bible, Brett?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Well, there's this passage I've got memorized that sort of fits this occasion. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of the evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and goodwill, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. [Says it louder] And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. [Says it even louder] And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee!!!!!"[1]
[Shoots Brett repeatedly, emptying his handgun into him as Vincent fires along with his handgun]
Vincent: Remember, I just got back from Amsterdam.
Lance: Am I a nigger? Are we in Inglewood? No. You're in my home. White people who know the difference between good shit and bad shit, this is the house they come to. Now, my shit, I'll take the Pepsi challenge with that Amsterdam shit, any day of the fucking week.
Vincent: That's a bold statement.
Lance: This ain't Amsterdam, Vince. This is a sellers market. Coke is fucking dead as … dead. Heroin, it's coming back in a big fucking way.
Jules: Mmm! Goddamn, Jimmie! This is some serious gourmet shit! Usually, me and Vince would be happy with some freeze-dried Taster's Choice, but he springs this serious gourmet shit on us! What flavor is this?
Jimmie: Knock it off, Jules.
Jules: What?
Jimmie: I don't need you to tell me how fucking good my coffee is, okay? I'm the one who buys it, I know how good it is. When Bonnie goes shopping, she buys shit. Me, I buy the gourmet expensive stuff because when I drink it, I want to taste it. But you know what's on my mind right now? It ain't the coffee in my kitchen, it's the dead nigger in my garage.
Jules: Oh, Jimmie, don't even worry about that …
Jimmie: No, let me ask you a question. When you came pulling in here, did you notice a sign out in front of my house that said Dead Nigger Storage?
Jules: Jimmie, you know I ain't seen no …
Jimmie: Did you notice a sign out in front of my house that said "Dead Nigger Storage"?!
Jules: No, I didn't.
Jimmie: You know why you didn't see that sign?
Jules: Why?
Jimmie: 'Cause it ain't there, 'cause storing dead niggers ain't my fucking business, that's why!
Jules: But Jimmie, we ain't gonna store the motherfucker …
Jimmie: No, no, no, no, no, don't you fucking realize, man, that if Bonnie comes home and finds a dead body in her house, I'm gonna get divorced? All right? No marriage counseling, no trial separation, I'm going to get fucking divorced, okay? And I don't want to get fucking divorced! Now man, you know, fuck, I wanna help you, but I don't want to lose my wife doing it, all right?
Jules: Jimmie, Jimmie, she ain't gonna leave you …
Jimmie: Don't fucking "Jimmie" me, Jules, okay?! Don't fucking "Jimmie" me! There's nothing that you're gonna say that's gonna make me forget that I love my wife, is there?! Now look, you know, she comes home from work in about an hour and a half. Graveyard shift at the hospital. You gotta make some phone calls? You gotta call some people? Well, then do it! And then get the fuck out of my house before she gets here!
Jules: Hey, that's Kool and the Gang. You know, we don't wanna fuck your shit up. All we wanna do is call my people and get them to bring us in, that's all.
Jimmie: You don't wanna fuck my shit up? You're fucking up my shit right now! You're gonna fuck my shit up big time if Bonnie comes home. So just do me that favor, all right? The phone is in my bedroom – I suggest you get going.
Jules: Fuck, nigger, what the fuck did you just do to his towel, man?!
Vincent: I was drying my hands.
Jules: You're supposed to wash them first!
Vincent: Well, you watched me wash them!
Jules: I watched you get them wet!
Vincent: I was washing them. This shit's hard to get off. Maybe if I had Lava, I could have done a better job.
Jules: I used the same fucking soap you did, and when I finished, the towel didn't look like no God damn maxi-pad. What if Jimmie was to come in here and see his towel like this, Vincent? It's shit like this that's gonna bring this situation to a head, man!
Jules: I don't wanna hear about no motherfucking ifs! All I wanna hear from your ass is, "You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggers out and wait for the cavalry, which should be coming directly."
Marsellus (calmly): You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggers out and wait for the Wolf, who should be coming directly.
Jules: You sending the Wolf?
Marsellus: Feel better, motherfucker?
Jules (grinning): Shit, Negro! That's all you had to say!
Vincent: A "please" would be nice.
The Wolf: Come again?
Vincent: I said a "please" would be nice.
The Wolf: Get it straight, Buster. I'm not here to say "please". I'm here to tell you what to do. And if self-preservation is an instinct you possess, you better fucking do it and do it quick. I'm here to help. If my help's not appreciated, lots of luck, gentlemen.
Jules: No no, Mr. Wolfe, it's not like that. Your help is definitely appreciated.
Vincent: Look, Mr. Wolfe, I respect you. I just don't like people barking orders at me, that's all.
The Wolf: If I'm curt with you, it's because time is a factor. I think fast, I talk fast, and I need you two guys to act fast if you want to get out of this. So pretty please, with sugar on top – clean the fucking car!
Jules: Oh, man. I will never forgive your ass for this shit. This is some fucked-up repugnant shit.
Vincent: Jules, did you ever hear the philosophy that once a man admits that he is wrong, he is immediately forgiven for all wrong-doings? Have you ever heard that?
Jules: Get the fuck out my face with that shit. The motherfucker said that shit never had to pick up itty-bitty pieces of skull on account of your dumb ass.
Vincent: I've got a threshold, Jules. I've got a threshold for the abuse that I will take. Now, right now, I'm a fucking race car, all right? And you got me in the red. And I'm just saying, I'm just saying that it's fucking dangerous to have a race car in the fucking red, that's all. I could blow.
Jules: Oh, oh, you ready to blow?
Vincent: Yeah, I'm ready to blow.
Jules: Oh, oh – you ready to blow?! Well, I'm a mushroom cloud-laying motherfucker, motherfucker! Every time my fingers touch brain, I'm Superfly Superfly T.N.T.! I'm the The Guns of the Navarone! In fact, what the fuck am I doing in the back?! You're the motherfucker who should be on brain detail! We're fucking switching, I'm washing the windows and you're picking up this nigger's skull.
Mia Wallace: Don't you hate that?
Vincent: What?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
Vincent: I don't know. That's a good question.
Mia: That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.
Zed: Bring out the Gimp.
Maynard: But the Gimp's sleeping.
Zed: Well, I guess you just have to go wake him up now, won't you?
Butch: You okay?
Marsellus: Nah man, I'm pretty fucking far from "okay".
Butch: What now?
Marsellus: What now? Let me tell you what now. I'm gonna call a couple of hard, pipe-hitting niggers to go to work on the homes here with a pair of pliers and a blow torch. You hear me talkin', hillbilly boy? I ain't through with you! By a damn sight. I'm gonna get medieval on yo' ass!
Butch: I meant "what now" between me and you.
Marsellus: Oh, that "what now." I tell you "what now" between me and you. There is no "me and you". Not no more.
Butch: So we cool?
Marsellus: Yeah, we cool. Two things: one, don't tell nobody about this. This shit is between me, you, and Mr. soon-to-be-living-the-rest-of-his-short-ass-life-in-agonizing-pain rapist here. It ain't noboby else's business. Two, you leave town tonight, right now, and when you gone, you stay gone or you be gone. You lost all your L.A. privileges. Deal?
Butch: Deal.
Marsellus: Get your ass out of here.
Vincent Want some bacon?
Jules No man, I don't eat pork.
Vincent Are you Jewish?
Jules Nah, I ain't Jewish, I just don't dig on swine, that's all.
Vincent Why not?
Jules Pigs are filthy animals. I don't eat filthy animals.
Vincent Yeah, but bacon tastes good. Pork chops taste good.
Jules Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy motherfucker. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a filthy animal. I ain't eatin' nothing that ain't got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
Vincent How about a dog? Dog eats its own feces.
Jules I don't eat dog either.
Vincent Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
Jules I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy, but they're definitely dirty. A dog's got personality. Personality goes a long way.
Vincent Ah, so by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, he would cease to be a filthy animal. Is that true?
Jules Well, we'd have to be talkin' about one charming motherfucking pig. I mean, he'd have to be ten times more charming than that Arnold on Green Acres, you know what I'm saying?
Vincent (laughing): That's good.
Jules: Man, I just been sitting here thinking.
Vincent: About what?
Jules: About the miracle we just witnessed.
Vincent: The miracle you witnessed. I witnessed a freak occurrence.
Jules: What is a miracle, Vincent?
Vincent: An act of God.
Jules: And what's an act of God?
Vincent: When, um … God makes the impossible possible … but this morning I don't think qualifies.
Jules: Hey, Vincent, don't you see? That shit don't matter. You're judging this shit the wrong way. I mean, it could be that God stopped the bullets, or He changed Coke to Pepsi, He found my fucking car keys. You don't judge shit like this based on merit. Now, whether or not what we experienced was an "according to Hoyle" miracle is insignificant. What is significant is that I felt the touch of God. God got involved.
Vincent: But why?
Jules: Well, that's what's fucking with me. I don't know why, but I can't go back to sleep.

[edit] Cast

[edit] See also

[edit] References

  1. ↑ a b The passage is actually from the title scroll of the 1970s martial-arts film Karate Kiba. It is indeed partly based on Ezekiel 25:17 – "And I will execute great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes; and they shall know that I am the LORD, when I shall lay my vengeance upon them" – but where the bit about the shepherd and the tyranny of evil men comes from is unknown.
  2. ↑ The actual name, according to McDonald's France's website (following menus within the Flash application, "Dans vos restos" → "La carte" → "Bœuf"), is "Royal Cheese". It is spelled "Royale" here to convey the French pronunciation.

[edit] External links

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