Forget it. It's too risky.
I'm through doing that shit.
You always say that, the same thing every time.
"I'm through, never again, too dangerous."
I know that's what I always say. I'm always right, too.
But you forget about it in a day or two.
Yeah, well, the days of me forgetting are over,
and the days of me remembering have just begun.
You know when you go on like this what you sound like?
I sound like a sensible fucking man...
- You sound like a duck. - ...that's what I sound like.
Take heart, cause you're never gonna have to hear it again,
'cause since I'm never gonna do it again, you're never gonna have to hear me quack
- about how I'm never gonna do it again. - After tonight.
Correct. I got all tonight to quack.
Can I get anyone more coffee?
Oh, yes.
Thank you.
You're welcome.
I mean, the way it is now,
you're taking the same risk as when you rob a bank.
Taking more of a risk. Banks are easier.
Federal banks ain't supposed to stop you in any way during a robbery.
They're insured. Why should they give a fuck?
You don't even need a gun in a federal bank.
I heard about this one bloke, he walks into a bank with a portable phone.
He gives the phone to the teller,
bloke on the other end of the phone says, "We got this guy's little girl.
If you don't give him all your money, we're gonna kill her."
- Did it work? - Fucking right, it worked.
That's what I'm talking about. Knucklehead walks into a bank with a telephone.
Not a pistol, not a shotgun, a fucking phone.
Cleans the place out. They don't even lift a fucking finger.
Did they hurt the little girl?
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.
- You want to rob banks? - I'm not saying I want to rob banks.
I'm just illustrating if we did, it'd be easier than what we been doing.
And no more liquor stores?
What we been talking about? Yeah, no more liquor stores.
Besides, it ain't the giggle it used to be.
There's too many foreigners own liquor stores.
Vietnamese, Koreans, they don't even speak fucking English.
Tell 'em, "Empty out the register," they don't know what you're talking about.
They make it too personal.
We keep on, one of these gook fucker's gonna make us kill him.
I'm not gonna kill anybody.
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 15 fucking generations.
You got Grandpa 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 that gets you. Fuck it. Forget it. We're out of it.
Yeah, well, what then? Day jobs?
- Not in this life. - What, then?
Garçon, coffee!
This place.
"Garçon" means "boy."
This place?
A coffee shop?
What's wrong with that?
Nobody ever robs restaurants.
Why not?
Bars, liquor stores, gas stations.
You'll 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 expecting, anyway.
I bet you could cut down on the hero factor in a place like this.
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 $1.50 an hour,
really give a fuck you're stealing from the owner?
Customers sitting there with food in their mouths,
they don't know what's going on.
One minute they're having a Denver omelet,
next minute someone's sticking a gun in their face.
See, I got the idea
last liquor store we stuck up. Remember?
All the customers kept coming in?
Yeah.
You got the idea taking their wallets.
- Now, that was a good idea. - Thank you.
Made more from the wallets than we did from the register.
Yes, we did.
A lot of people come into restaurants.
A lot of wallets.
Pretty smart, huh?
Pretty smart.
I'm ready. Let's do it. Right now, right here.
Come on.
All right.
Same as last time, remember?
You're crowd control. I handle employees.
I love you, Pumpkin.
I love you, Honey Bunny.
Everybody, be cool! This is a robbery!
Any of you fucking pricks move,
and I'll execute every motherfucking last one of you!
Okay, so tell me again about the hash bars.
Okay. What you want to know?
Hash is legal there, right?
Yeah, it's legal, but it ain't 100% legal.
You just can't walk into a restaurant, roll a joint, and start puffing away.
I mean, they want you to smoke in your home or certain designated places.
- And those are hash bars? - Yeah, it breaks down like this, okay?
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 matter.
'Cause, get a load of this, all right?
If you get stopped by a cop in Amsterdam, it's illegal for them to search you.
I mean, that's a right the cops in Amsterdam don't have.
Oh, man, I'm going. That's all there is to it.
- I'm fucking going. - I know, baby. You'd dig it the most.
But you know what the funniest thing about Europe is?
- What? - It's the little differences.
I mean, they got the same shit over there
that they got here, but it's just... Just there it's a little different.
- Example. - 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?
They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?
Got the metric system there. They wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.
What do they call it?
They call it a "royale with cheese."
- "Royale with cheese." - That's right.
What do they call a Big Mac?
Well, Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "Le Big Mac."
"Le Big Mac."
What do they call a Whopper?
I don't know. I didn't go into Burger King.
You know what they put on French fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
- What? - Mayonnaise.
Goddamn!
I've seen 'em do it, man.
They fucking drown 'em in that shit.
We should have shotguns for this kind of deal.
How many up there?
Three or four.
That's counting our guy?
I'm not sure.
So that means it could be up to five guys up there?
It's possible.
We should have fucking shotguns.
- What's her name? - Mia.
Mia. How did Marsellus and her meet?
I don't know. However people meet people.
She used to be an actress.
Oh, really? She do anything I'd have seen?
I think her biggest deal was she starred in a pilot.
Pilot? What's a pilot?
Well, you know the shows on TV?
I don't watch TV.
Yeah, but you are aware that there's an invention called television,
and on this invention, they show shows, right?
Yeah.
Well, the way they pick TV shows is, they make one show.
That show's called a pilot.
Then they show that one show to the people who pick shows,
and on the strength of that one show,
they decide if they want to make more shows.
Some get chosen and become television programs.
Some don't, become nothing.
She starred in one of the ones that became nothing.
You remember Antwan Rockamora?
Half-black, half-Samoan, used to call him "Tony Rocky Horror"?
Yeah, maybe. Fat, right?
I wouldn't go so far as to call the brother fat.
I mean, he got a weight problem. What's the nigger gonna do? He's Samoan.
Yeah, I think I know who you mean. What about him?
Well, Marsellus fucked him up good.
Word around the campfire is,
it was on account of Marsellus Wallace's wife.
So, what'd he do, fuck her?
No, no, no. Nothing that bad.
Well then, what, then?
Gave her a foot massage.
A foot massage?
That's it?
Then what did Marsellus do?
Sent a couple of cats over to his place.
They took him out on his patio, threw his ass over the balcony.
Nigger fell four stories.
They had a little garden down at the bottom,
enclosed in glass, like a greenhouse.
Nigger fell through that.
Since then, he kind of developed a speech impediment.
That's a damn shame.
But still, I have to say, you play with matches, you get burned.
What do you mean?
You don't be giving Marsellus Wallace's new bride a foot massage.
You don't think he overreacted?
Well, Antwan probably didn't expect Marsellus
to react the way he did,
but he had to expect a reaction.
It was a foot massage. A foot massage is nothing.
I give my mother a foot massage.
No, it's laying hands in a familiar way on Marsellus's new wife.
I mean, is it as bad as eating her pussy out?
No, but it's the same fucking ballpark.
Stop right there.
Eating a bitch out and giving a bitch a foot massage
ain't even the same fucking thing.
It's not. It's the same ballpark.
Ain't no fucking ballpark, neither.
Now, look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine,
but, you know, touching his wife's feet
and sticking your tongue in her holiest of holies
ain't the same fucking ballpark.
It ain't the same league. It ain't even the same fucking sport.
Look, foot massages don't mean shit.
Have you ever given a foot massage?
Don't be telling me about foot massages.
I'm the foot fucking master.
You given a lot of 'em?
Shit, yeah. Got my technique down and everything.
I don't be tickling or nothing.
Would you give a guy a foot massage?
Fuck you.
You given 'em a lot?
Fuck you.
You know, I'm kind of tired. I could use a foot massage myself.
Yo, yo, yo, man. You best back off. I'm getting a little pissed here.
- This is the door. - There it is.
What time you got?
07:22 in the a.m.
No, it ain't quite time yet. Come on. Let's hang back.
Now, look, just 'cause I wouldn't give no man a foot massage
don't make it right for Marsellus to throw Antwan off a building
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, 'cause I'd kill the motherfucker.
- You know what I'm saying? - 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.
Now, we act like they don't, but they do.
That's what's so fucking cool about 'em.
There's a sensuous thing going on where, you know,
you don't talk about it, but you know it, and she knows it.
Fucking Marsellus knew it,
and Antwan should've fucking better known better.
I mean, that's his fucking wife, man.
This ain't a man with a sense of humor about this shit.
You know what I'm saying?
It's an interesting point.
Come on. Let's get into character.
What's her name again?
- Mia. - Mia.
Why you so interested in big man's wife?
Well, he's going out of town, Florida,
and he asked me if I'd take care of her while he's gone.
Take care of her?
No, man. Just take her out.
You know, show her a good time.
Make sure she don't get lonely.
You're gonna be taking Mia Wallace out on a date?
It is not a date.
You know, it's just like if you were going to take
your buddy's wife to a movie or something.
It's just good company, that's all.
It's not a date.
It's definitely not a date.
Hey, kids.
How you boys doing?
Hey, keep chilling.
You know who we are?
We're associates of your business partner,
Marsellus Wallace.
You do remember your business partner, don't you?
Now, let me take a wild guess here.
You're Brett, right?
Yeah.
I thought so.
You remember your business partner, Marsellus Wallace,
don't you, Brett?
- Yeah, I remember him. - Good.
Looks like me and Vincent caught you boys at breakfast.
Sorry about that. What you having?
Hamburgers.
Hamburgers!
The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast.
What kind of hamburgers?
Cheeseburgers.
No, no, no. Where'd you get 'em?
McDonald's, Wendy's, Jack In The Box, where?
Big Kahuna Burger.
That's that Hawaiian burger joint.
I hear they got some tasty burgers.
I ain't never had one myself. How are they?
- They're good. - You mind if I try one of yours?
- This is yours here, right? - Yeah.
This is a tasty burger.
Vincent, you ever had a Big Kahuna burger?
Want a bite? They're real tasty.
I ain't hungry.
Well, if you like burgers, give 'em a try sometime.
Me, I can't usually get 'em,
'cause my girlfriend's a vegetarian,
which pretty much makes me a vegetarian.
But I do love the taste of a good burger.
You know what they call a Quarter Pounder with cheese in France?
No.
- Tell him, Vincent. - Royale with cheese.
Royale with cheese.
You know why they call it that?
Because of the metric system?
Check out the big brain on Brett!
You're a smart motherfucker. That's right. The metric system.
What's in this?
- Sprite. - Sprite, good.
You mind if I have some of your tasty beverage
to wash this down with?
Go right ahead.
That hit the spot.
You, Flock of Seagulls.
You know why we're here?
Why don't you tell my man Vince here where you got the shit hid at?
It's over there.
I don't remember asking you a goddamn thing!
You were saying?
It's in the cupboard.
No. The one by your knees.
We happy?
Vincent?
- We happy? - Yeah, we happy.
Look...
I'm sorry, I didn't get your name.
I got yours. Vincent, right?
- But I never got yours. - My name's Pitt,
and your ass ain't talking your way out of this shit.
No, no, no.
I just want you to know how...
I just want you to know how sorry we are that things got so fucked up
with us and Mr. Wallace.
We got into this thing with the best intentions, really.
I never inten--
Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration?
I didn't mean to do that. Please, continue.
You were saying something about "best intentions."
What's the matter?
You were finished?
Well, allow me to retort.
What does Marsellus Wallace look like?
What?
- What country are you from? - What?
"What" ain't no country I ever heard of! They speak English in "What"?
What?
- English, motherfucker! Do you speak it? - Yes!
- Then you know what I'm saying. - Yes!
Describe what Marsellus Wallace looks like!
What? I...
Say "what" again. Say "what" again!
I dare you! I double-dare you, motherfucker!
Say "what" one more goddamn time!
He's black.
Go on!
He's bald.
Does he look like a bitch?
What?
Does he look like a bitch?
No!
Then why you trying to fuck him like a bitch, Brett?
- I didn't. - Yes, you did.
Yes, you did, Brett!
- You tried to fuck him. - No.
Well, Marsellus Wallace don't like to be fucked
by anybody except Mrs. Wallace.
You read the Bible, Brett?
Yes.
Well, there's this passage I got memorized.
Sort of fits this occasion.
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 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!"
I think you're gonna find,
when all this shit is over and done...
I think you're gonna find yourself one smiling motherfucker.
Thing is, Butch,
right now you 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 that'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 in you, anyway?
Two?
Boxers don't have an old-timer's day.
You came close, but you never made it.
And if you were gonna make it, you would have made it before now.
You my nigger?
It certainly appears so.
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.
You fight through that shit.
'Cause a year from now,
when you kicking it in the Caribbean,
you gonna say to yourself, "Marsellus Wallace was right."
I got no problem with that, Mr. Wallace.
In the fifth, your ass goes down.
Say it.
In the fifth, my ass goes down.
Yo, Vincent Vega, our man in Amsterdam.
Jules Winnfield, our man in Inglewood.
Get your asses on in here!
Goddamn, nigger!
- What's up with them clothes? - You don't even want to know.
Where's the big man?
Big man's right over there taking care of some business.
Why don't you hang back for a second or two, you know?
When you see the white boy leave, just go on over.
How you been?
I've been doing pretty good. How 'bout yourself?
All right.
So, I hear you're taking Mia out tomorrow.
At Marsellus's request.
- Have you met Mia? - Not yet.
What's so fucking funny?
- Not a goddamn thing. - I got to piss.
Look, I'm not a fucking idiot, all right?
It's the big man's wife.
I'm gonna sit across from her, chew my food with my mouth closed,
laugh at her fucking jokes, and that's it.
Hey, my name's Paul, and this shit's between y'all.
Then what did you fucking ask me about it for?
Asshole.
Give me a pack of Red Apples.
- Filters? - Nah.
You looking at something, friend?
You ain't my friend, palooka.
- What was that? - I think you heard me just fine, punchy.
Vincent Vega's in the house?
My nigger. Get your ass over here.
- What's up? - Man, I'm sorry.
Don't worry about it.
Pack of Red Apples.
$1.40.
And some matches.
It's as if it turns every part of your body into the tip of a penis.
Wow.
I'll lend it to you. It's a great book on piercing.
Well, you see how they use that gun to pierce your ears?
They don't use that to pierce your nipples, too, do they?
Forget that gun. That gun goes against the entire idea behind piercing.
All my piercing, 18 places on my body, every one of 'em done with a needle.
Five in each ear. One through the nipple of my left breast.
Two in my right nostril. One in my left eyebrow.
One in my belly. One in my lip. One in my clit.
And I wear a stud in my tongue.
Excuse me.
I was just curious,
but why would you wear a stud in your tongue?
It's a sex thing.
Helps fellatio.
Vincenzo.
Step into my office.
Let's go, man.
This is panda, from Mexico. Very good stuff.
Now, that's bava. Different, but equally good.
And that is choco.
From the Harz Mountains of Germany.
Now, the first two are the same-- 300 a gram. Those are friend prices.
But this one is a little more expensive.
This is 500 a gram.
But when you shoot it, you will know where that extra money went.
Now, there's nothing wrong with these two. This is real, real, real good shit.
But this one is a fucking madman.
Remember, I just got back from Amsterdam.
Am I a nigger? Are we in Inglewood?
No. You're in my home.
Now, white people who know the difference between good shit and bad shit,
this is the house they come to.
My shit, I'll take the Pepsi Challenge with that Amsterdam shit
any old day of the fucking week.
- That's a bold statement. - This ain't Amsterdam, Vince.
This is a seller's market.
Coke is fucking dead as... dead.
Heroin, it's coming back in a big fucking way.
- All right, give me three grams of madman. - Okay.
And if it's as good as you say it is, I'll come back and buy another thousand.
Well, I just hope that I still have some left for you.
But I'm giving you some out of my own private stash.
That is what a nice guy I am.
Hey, I'm out of balloons. Is a baggie all right?
- Yeah, that's cool. - All right. I'll just get one for you.
Honey, will you get me some baggies and twistix from the kitchen?
Okay.
Hey, what do you think about Trudi?
She ain't got a boyfriend. You want to hang out, get high?
Which one is Trudi? The one with all the shit in her face?
No, that's Jody.
That's my wife.
That one hurt, man.
Thank you.
No, I can't. I gotta be someplace.
All right. No problemo.
I'll take a rain check.
"Thank you, Jody."
Still got your Malibu?
Man. You know what some fucker did the other day?
- What? - Fucking keyed it.
- Man. That's fucked up. - Tell me about it.
I had it in storage for three years.
It was out five days,
and some dickless piece of shit fucked with it.
They should be fucking killed, man.
No trial, no jury. Straight to execution.
Boy, I wish I could've caught him doing it.
I'd have given anything to catch that asshole doing it.
It'd been worth him doing it just so I could've caught him doing it.
What a fucker.
What's more chicken shit than fucking with a man's automobile?
I mean, don't fuck with another man's vehicle.
- You don't do it. - It's just against the rules.
- Thank you. - Thank you.
- Mind if I shoot up here? - Hey, mi casa es su casa.
Muchas gracias.
"Hi, Vincent, I'm getting dressed.
The door's open.
Come inside and make yourself a drink. Mia."
Hello?
Vincent.
I'm on the intercom.
Where is-- Where is the intercom?
It's on the wall by the two African fellows.
To your right.
Warm.
Warmer.
Disco.
Hello.
Push the button if you want to talk.
Hello.
Go make yourself a drink, and I'll be down in two shakes of a lamb's tail.
The bar is by the fireplace.
Okay.
Let's go.
What the fuck is this place?
This is Jack Rabbit Slim's.
An Elvis man should love it.
- Come on, Mia, let's go get a steak. - You can get a steak here, daddy-o.
Don't be a...
After you, kitty cat.
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Now, how may I help you?
There's a reservation under Wallace.
Wallace?
- We reserved a car. - A car.
Why don't you seat 'em over there in the Chrysler?
- Decaf! - Just a minute.
Ricky! Ricky!
Let's hear it for Ricky Nelson!
Fantastic job, Rick. Thank you very much.
Vincent!
Just to let you all know,
Ricky will be back in the second half of our show.
So we hope you enjoy your meals here at Jack Rabbit Slim's.
Thank you.
Call for...
Phillip...
Morris!
What do you think?
I think it's like a wax museum with a pulse.
Hi, I'm Buddy. What can I get you?
Let's see. Steak, steak, steak.
Oh, yeah, the Douglas Sirk steak.
I'll have that.
How do you want that cooked? Burnt to a crisp, or bloody as hell?
Bloody as hell. And, yeah, look at this. Vanilla Coke.
What about you, Peggy Sue?
I'll have the... Durward Kirby burger,
bloody,
and...
a five-dollar shake.
How do you want that shake? Martin and Lewis, or Amos and Andy?
Martin and Lewis.
Did you just order a five-dollar shake?
That's a shake.
- That's milk and ice cream. - Last I heard.
- That's five dollars? - Uh-huh.
- You don't put bourbon in it or nothing? - No.
- Just checking. - I'll be right back with your drinks.
Could you roll me one of those, cowboy?
You can have this one, cowgirl.
Thanks.
Think nothing of it.
So... Marsellus said you just got back from Amsterdam.
- Sure did. - How long were you there?
Just over three years.
I go there about once a year to chill out for a month.
No kidding?
I didn't know that.
Why would you?
I heard you did a pilot.
That was my 15 minutes.
What was it?
It was a show about a team of female secret agents
called Fox Force Five.
- What? - 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 one, two, three, four, five of us.
There was a blonde one-- Sommerset O'Neal.
She was the leader.
The Japanese fox was a kung fu master.
The black girl was a demolition expert.
French fox's speciality was sex.
What was your specialty?
Knives.
Character I played, Raven McCoy,
her background was she grew up raised by circus performers.
According to the show,
she was the deadliest woman in the world with a knife.
And she knew a zillion old jokes.
Her grandfather, an old vaudevillian, taught her.
And if we would've got picked up,
they would've worked in a gimmick where every show,
I would've told another joke.
You know any of them old jokes?
Well, I only got the chance to say one, 'cause we only did one show.
Tell me.
It's corny.
Don't be that way. Tell me.
Nah. You wouldn't like it, and I'd be embarrassed.
You'd be em-- You told, like, 50 million people, and you can't tell me?
I promise I won't laugh.
That's what I'm afraid of, Vince.
That's not what I meant, and you know it.
Now I'm definitely not gonna tell you, 'cause it's been built up too much.
What a gyp.
Martin and Lewis.
Vanilla Coke.
Yummy.
You think I could have a sip of that?
Be my guest.
I gotta know what a five-dollar shake tastes like.
You can use my straw. I don't have cooties.
- Yeah, but maybe I do. - Cooties, I can handle.
All right.
Goddamn, that's a pretty fucking good milk shake.
Told ya.
Don't know if it was worth five dollars, but it was pretty fucking good.
Don't you hate that?
- Hate what? - Uncomfortable silences.
Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit
in order to be comfortable?
I don't know, but it's a good question.
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.
Well, I don't think we're quite there yet, but don't feel bad.
We just met each other.
I'll tell you what.
I'm gonna go to the bathroom and powder my nose.
You sit here and think of something to say.
I'll do that.
Okay.
I said goddamn!
Goddamn.
I need some hair spray.
Don't you just love it when you come back from the bathroom
to find your food waiting for you?
We're lucky we got anything at all.
I don't think Buddy Holly's much of a waiter.
Maybe we should've sat in Marilyn Monroe's section.
- Would you like some coffee? - Which one? There's two Monroes.
No, there's not.
That is Marilyn Monroe.
That is Mamie Van Doren.
And I don't see Jayne Mansfield. She must have the night off or something.
Pretty smart.
Yeah, I got my moments.
- So, did you think of something to say? - Actually, I did.
However...
you seem like a really nice person, and I don't want to offend you.
This doesn't sound like the usual mindless, boring,
getting-to-know-you chitchat.
This sounds like you actually have something to say.
Well, well, I do. I do.
But you have to promise not to be offended.
No! 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 gonna ask me,
and my natural response could be to get offended.
Then, through no fault of my own, I would've broken my promise.
- Let's just forget it. - That's an impossibility.
Trying to forget anything as intriguing as this
would be an exercise in futility.
Is that a fact?
And besides, isn't it more exciting when you don't have permission?
All right. All right.
Well, here goes.
What did you think about what happened to Antwan?
Who's Antwan?
Tony Rocky Horror. You know him.
He fell out of a window.
Well, that is one way to say it.
Another way to say it would be that he was thrown out.
Another way would be was he was thrown out by Marsellus,
and yet even another way is to say
he was thrown out of a window by Marsellus because of you.
Is that a fact?
No, no. It's not a fact. It's just what I heard.
Who told you?
They.
They talk a lot, don't they?
They certainly do. They certainly do.
Don't be shy, Vincent. What else did they say?
Well, I'm not shy. I don't--
Did it involve the F-word?
No. No, no, no.
They just said that Antwan had given you a foot massage.
And?
And nothing. That's it.
You heard Marsellus
threw Tony Rocky Horror out of a four-story window
for giving me a foot massage?
And you believe that?
Well, I mean, at the time I was told, it sounded reasonable.
Marsellus throwing Tony out of a four-story window
for massaging my feet seemed reasonable?
No, it seemed excessive, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.
I mean, I understand that Marsellus is very, very protective of you.
A husband being protective of his wife is one thing.
A husband almost killing another man for touching his wife's feet
is something else.
But did it happen?
Only thing Antwan ever touched of mine was my hand when he shook it...
at my wedding.
Really?
Truth is, nobody knows why Marsellus threw Tony out of that four-story window
except Marsellus and Tony.
But when you little scamps get together, you're worse than a sewing circle.
Ladies and gentlemen.
Now the moment you've all been waiting for,
the world-famous Jack Rabbit Slim's twist contest.
This is where one lucky couple
will win this handsome trophy that Marilyn here is holding.
Now, who will be our first contestants?
Right here!
Hey, all right!
- I wanna dance. - No, no, no, no.
No, no, no, no, no.
I do believe Marsellus, my husband, your boss,
told you to take me out and do whatever I wanted.
And now I want to dance. I want to win.
- I want that trophy, so dance good. - All right. You asked for it.
Let's hear it for our first contestants.
Let's meet our first contestants here this evening.
Young lady, what is your name?
Mrs. Mia Wallace.
And how about your fella here?
Vincent Vega.
All right. Let's see what you can do. Take it away!
- Yay! - Go for it!
Come on!
Is that what you call an uncomfortable silence?
I don't know what you call that.
Drinks. Music.
I'm gonna take a piss.
That's a little bit more information than I needed, Vince, but go right ahead.
Girl
You'll be a woman soon
I love you so much Can't count all the ways
I'd die for you, girl And all they can say is
He's not your kind
They never get tired Of putting me down
And I never know when I come around
What I'm gonna find
Don't let them make up your mind
Don't you know, girl
You'll be a woman soon
One drink and that's it.
Don't be rude. Drink your drink.
But do it quickly.
Say good night and go home.
You'll be a woman soon
Soon
You'll need a woman
I've been misunderstood For all of my life
But what they're saying, girl Just cuts like a knife
You see, this is a moral test of oneself.
Whether or not you can maintain loyalty.
Because being loyal is very important.
Hello.
So, you're gonna go out there, you're gonna say,
"Good night. I've had a very lovely evening."
Walk out the door, get in the car.
Go home, jerk off, and that's all you're gonna do.
All right, Mia.
So, listen, I gotta go.
All right?
Jesus fucking Christ.
You fu-- Jesus Christ.
Fuck me! Fuck me!
Come on, girl. We're getting out of here.
We gotta walk now.
Don't fucking die on me, Mia.
Silly fuck.
Answer!
Have you got the ring?
- Why, certainly. - Join hands, you lovebirds.
Please. Please. Hurry up.
Yes, yes, yes, indeed.
Hold hands, you lovebirds.
Fuck you, Lance! Answer!
Now, what do you say?
I give up, I'll marry you!
Lance! The goddamn phone's ringing!
I can hear it.
I thought you told those fucking assholes never to call here this late.
Yeah, I told 'em,
and that is exactly what I'm going to tell this fucking asshole right now.
I'll teach you a thing or two.
Don't you dare strike me!
Hello?
Lance, Vincent.
I'm in big fucking trouble, man. I'm coming to your house.
Hold your horses, man.
What's the problem?
I got this chick,
- she's fucking OD'ing on me. - Well, don't bring her here.
I'm not even fucking joking with you, man.
Don't not be bringing some fucked-up pooh-butt to my house.
- No choice. - She's OD'ing?
She's fucking dying on me, man!
Okay, well, then you bite the fucking bullet,
and you take her to a hospital and call a lawyer.
- Negative. - This is not my fucking problem, man!
You fucked her up, you fucking deal with this!
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!
What the hell was that?
Have you lost your fucking mind?
- You were talking about drug shit-- - Lance, help me.
You crashed your car into my fucking house!
- Grab her feet. - Hey, hey! Are you deaf?
You are not bringing this fucked-up bitch into my house!
This fucked-up bitch is Marsellus Wallace's wife.
Do you know who Marsellus Wallace is? Do you?
- Yeah. - If she croaks on me,
I'm a fucking grease spot!
Now, look, I will be forced to tell him that you did not help
and that you let her die on your fucking lawn.
Now, come on, help me. Help me. Pick her up.
Shit!
Lance!
Shit!
It's 1:30 in the goddamn morning.
What the fuck's going on out here?
Who's she?
Look, go in the fridge
and get the thing with that adrenaline shot.
What's wrong with her?
She's OD'ing!
- Get her the hell out of here! - Get the shot!
Fuck you! Fuck you, too!
What a fucking bitch.
You just keep talking to her. She's getting the shot.
I'm gonna go get my little black medical book.
What the fuck you need a medical book for?
To tell me what to do. I never had to give an adrenaline shot before.
- You've never given an adrenaline shot? - I never had to.
I don't go joypopping with a bunch of bubblegummers.
- My friends can handle their highs. - Get the shot!
- Look, I am if you'll let me. - I ain't fucking stopping you!
Well, stop talking to me. Start talking to her!
- Get the shot! - All right!
Hurry up, Lance! We're losing her!
- I'm looking as fast as I can! - What's he looking for?
I don't know. Some book.
- What are you looking for? - My little black medical book!
- What are you looking for? - A little black fucking medical book!
It's like a textbook they give to nurses.
- I never saw no medical book. - Well, trust me, I have one.
Well, if it's so important, why don't you keep it with the shot?
I don't know! Stop bothering me!
Listen, while you're looking for it, that girl's gonna die on our carpet.
You're never gonna find anything in here.
I'm going to fucking kill you if you don't shut up!
- Clean this shit up! - Get in here!
Christ.
Get the fuck out of my way.
- Pig. - Quit fucking around. Give her the shot.
- Come on. - Okay.
Look, while I'm doing this, you take off her shirt and find her heart.
- Got to be exact? - Yeah, it's got to be exact.
I'm giving her a shot in the heart, so I guess it's got to be exact.
I don't know exactly where her heart is. I think it's right here.
- That's it. - This it? All right.
What I need is a big fat magic marker.
- You got it? - What?
A magic marker! A felt pen!
A fucking black magic marker!
All right. All right.
- Come on, man. Hurry up. - Fuck. Okay, okay. Okay.
I think it's ready.
- Hurry up, man. Hurry up. - Here, I'll tell you what to do.
No. Man, I ain't giving-- You're gonna give her the shot.
- You're gonna give her the shot. - I ain't.
- I ain't giving her the shot. - I never done this before.
I ain't never done it before either. I ain't starting now.
You brought her here. That means you're gonna give her the shot.
The day I bring an OD'ing bitch to your house,
I give her the shot. Give her the shot.
- Give it to me. Give me that. - Here.
All right. Tell me what to do.
Okay. You're giving her an injection of adrenaline
straight to her heart, but she's got a breastplate. Got to pierce through that.
So what you gotta do is you gotta bring the needle down
- in a stabbing motion. - I gotta stab her three times?
No! You don't gotta stab her three times.
Stab her once, but it's gotta be hard enough
to get through her breastplate into her heart.
All right? And then once you do that, you press down on the plunger.
Okay, then what happens?
- I'm kind of curious about that myself. - This ain't no fucking joke, man!
- Am I gonna kill her? - No, no!
She's supposed to come out of it like that. It's...
All right. Count to three. All right. Ready?
One...
...two...
three!
If you're all right,
then say something.
Something.
That was fucking trippy.
Oh, man.
Mia. Mia.
What's...
What's your thoughts on...
on how to handle this?
What's yours?
Well, I'm of the opinion
that if Marsellus lived his whole life,
he don't need to know nothing about this incident.
If Marsellus knew about this incident,
I'd be in as much trouble as you.
I seriously doubt that.
I can keep a secret if you can.
Shake on it?
Mum's the word?
Cool.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go home and have a heart attack.
Vincent.
Do you want to hear my Fox Force Five joke?
Sure.
Except that I think I'm still a little too petrified to laugh.
No, you won't laugh 'cause it's not funny.
But if you still wanna hear it, I'll tell it.
I can't wait.
Okay.
Three tomatoes are walking down the street.
Papa tomato, Mama tomato, and Baby tomato.
Baby tomato starts lagging behind and Papa tomato gets really angry,
goes back and squishes him,
and says, "Catch up."
Ketchup.
See you around.
That Paddlefoot... He funny, silly dog.
He think totem pole alive.
He Arctic tenderfoot.
That totem pole been here forever.
Butch?
Butch, stop watching TV a second.
- Yeah? - We got a special visitor.
Now...
Do you remember when I told you your daddy died in a POW camp?
Well, this here is Captain Koons.
He was in the POW camp with Daddy.
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
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'd...
not made it,
Major Coolidge would be talking right now to my son Jim.
But the way it turned out, I'm talking to you...
Butch.
I got something for ya.
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 wristwatches.
Up till then, people just carried pocket watches.
It was bought by Private Doughboy Erine Coolidge
on the day he set sail for Paris.
This was your great-grandfather's war watch,
and he wore it every day he was in that war.
And when he'd done his duty, he went home to your great-grandmother,
took the watch off,
put it in an old coffee can, and in that can it stayed
till 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-grandfather 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.
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,
name of 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 granddad 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, put in a Vietnamese prison camp.
He knew that if the gooks ever saw the watch,
they'd confiscate it and take it away.
The way your dad looked at it, this watch was your birthright.
He'd be damned if any slopes gonna put their greasy yellow hands
on his boy's birthright,
so he hid it in one place he knew he could hide something, his ass.
Five long years he wore this watch
up his ass.
Then he died of dysentery,
he give me the watch.
I hid this uncomfortable hunk of metal up my ass, two years.
Then... after seven years,
I was sent home to my family. And...
now...
Little man, I give the watch to you.
It's time, Butch.
...weighing 210 pounds,
Floyd Ray Wilson!
It's official. It's official. Wilson is dead!
Well, Dan, that had to be the bloodiest
and hands down the most brutal fight this city has ever seen.
Coolidge was out of there faster
than I've ever seen a victorious boxer leave the ring.
Do you think he knew Wilson was dead?
My guess would be yes, Richard.
I could see from my position here the frenzy in his eyes
give way to the realization of what he was doing.
I think any man would have left the ring that fast.
Dan, do you feel that this tragedy
is gonna have an effect on the world of boxing?
Richard, a tragedy like this
can't help but shake the world of boxing to its very foundations,
but it's of paramount importance that during the sad weeks ahead,
the eyes of the WBA remain--
Marsellus?
I didn't do it, man. I didn't do it.
How you doing?
Great. I never thanked you for dinner.
- What you got? - He booked.
His trainer?
Says he don't know nothing. I believe him.
- Think Butch surprised his ass same as us. - No, we don't wanna think, we wanna know.
Take him to the kennel, sic the dogs on his ass.
We'll find out for goddamn sure what he knows and what he don't.
Butch's search... How do you want it done?
I'm prepared to scour the Earth for that motherfucker.
If Butch goes to Indochina, I want a nigger hiding in a bowl of rice,
ready to pop a cap in his ass.
I will take care of it.
Mister?
Hey, mister?
What?
You were in that fight?
The fight on the radio.
You're the fighter?
Now, what gave you that idea?
No, come on.
You're him.
I know you're him.
Tell me you're him.
I'm him.
You killed the other boxing man.
He's dead?
The radio said he was dead.
Sorry about that, Floyd.
What does it feel like?
What does what feel like?
Killing a man.
Beating another man to death with your bare hands.
- Are you a weirdo? - No.
It is a subject I have much interest in.
You are the first person I have ever met who has killed somebody.
So...
What does it feel like to kill a man?
I'll tell you what.
Give me one of them cigarettes you got up there,
and I'll tell you all about it.
So...
Esmarelda...
Villa Lobos.
Is that Mexican?
The name is Spanish, but I am Colombian.
That's some handle you got there, honey.
Thank you.
And what is your name?
Butch.
What does it mean?
I'm an American, honey. Our names don't mean shit.
So, moving right along, Esmarelda.
What is it you wanna know?
I want to know what it feels like to kill a man.
I couldn't tell ya.
I didn't know he was dead until you told me he was dead.
Now that I know he's dead, you wanna know how I feel about it?
I don't feel the least bit bad about it.
What the fuck I tell ya?
As soon as the word got out the fix was in, man,
the odds went through the roof.
I know. I know. Unbelievable.
Hey, fuck him, Scotty.
If he was a better boxer, he'd still be alive.
If he never laced up his gloves,
which he never should've done in the first fucking place, he'd still be alive.
Yeah, well...
Who gives a fuck? It's over now.
Yeah, well, enough about the poor, unfortunate Mr. Floyd.
Let's talk about the rich and prosperous Mr. Butch.
How many bookies you lay it around on?
All eight?
How long to collect?
So you'll have it all by tomorrow night?
No, I understand, a few stragglers aside.
Fuck, Scotty, that is good news. That is great news, man.
Yeah.
No, me and Fabienne are gonna leave in the morning.
Yeah, it'll probably take us a couple days to get down to Knoxville.
Okay, my brother.
You're right. You're goddamn right.
All right, Scotty.
Next time I see you, we'll be on Tennessee time.
Be cool, brother.
45.60.
And here's a little something for the effort.
Now...
If anybody asks you who your fare was tonight,
- what are you gonna say? - The truth.
Three well-dressed, slightly toasted Mexicans.
Bonsoir, Esmarelda Villa Lobos.
Buenas noches, Butch.
Keep the light off.
- Is that better, sugar pop? - Oui.
Hard day at the office?
Pretty hard.
I got in a fight.
Poor baby.
Can we make spoons?
You know what? I was thinking about taking a shower.
I'm stinking like a dog over here.
I like the way you stink.
Let me take this jacket off.
I was looking at myself in the mirror.
Uh-huh?
I wish I had a pot.
You were looking at yourself in the mirror,
and you wish you had some pot?
A pot.
A pot belly.
Pot bellies are sexy.
Well, you should be happy...
'cause you have one.
Shut up, fatso!
I don't have a pot.
I have a bit of a tummy, like Madonna when she did "Lucky Star."
It's not the same thing.
I didn't know there was such a difference between a pot belly and a tummy.
The difference is huge.
Would you like it if I had a pot belly?
No.
Pot bellies make a man look either oafish or like a gorilla.
But on a woman, a pot belly is very sexy.
The rest of you is normal.
Normal face, normal legs,
normal hips, normal ass,
but with a big perfectly round pot belly.
If I had one, I'd wear a T-shirt two sizes too small to accentuate it.
You think men would find that attractive?
I don't give a damn what men find attractive.
It's unfortunate what we find pleasing to the touch
and pleasing to the eye is seldom the same.
If you had a pot belly,
I would punch you in it.
- You'd punch me in my belly? - Right in the belly.
I'd smother you.
I'd drop it right on your face till you couldn't breathe.
- You'd do that? - Yes. Yes.
Did you get everything?
Yes, I did.
Good job, sugar pop.
Did everything go as planned?
You didn't listen to the--
- You didn't listen to the radio? - I never listen to your fights.
Were you the winner?
I won, all right.
Are you still retiring?
Sure am.
So, it all worked out in the finish?
We're not at the finish yet, baby.
We're in a lot of danger, aren't we?
If they find us, they'll kill us, won't they?
But they won't find us, will they?
Do you still want me to go with you?
I don't want to be a burden or a nuisance.
It's...
Say it.
Fabienne,
I want you to be with me.
Forever?
Forever and ever.
Do you love me?
Very, very much.
Butch?
Yes.
Will you give me oral pleasure?
Will you kiss it?
But you first.
- Okay. - Okay.
Butch.
I think I cracked a rib.
Giving me oral pleasure?
No, retard. From the fight.
Don't call me retard.
My name is Fabby.
- My name is Fabienne. - Stop it. Stop it.
- My name is Fabienne. - Shut up, fuckhead!
I hate that mongoloid voice.
Okay. Sorry, sorry.
I take it back.
Would you hand me a dry towel, Miss Beautiful Tulip?
I like that.
I like being called a tulip.
Tulip is much better than mongoloid.
I didn't call you a mongoloid.
I called you a retard, and I took it back.
Butch?
Yes, lemon pie.
Where are we going to go?
Well, I'm not sure yet.
Wherever you want.
We're gonna get a lot of money from this, but it ain't gonna be the kinda money
that we can live like hogs in the fat house forever.
I was thinking maybe we could go down someplace in the South Pacific.
The kinda money we're gonna have is gonna carry us a long way down there.
- If we wanted, we could live in Bora Bora? - You betcha.
And if after a while you didn't dig that,
go someplace else, maybe Tahiti. Mexico.
But I do not speak Spanish.
Well, you do not speak Bora-Boran, either.
Besides, Mexican is easy.
- What does that mean? - Where is the shoe store?
Spit, please.
Excellent pronunciation.
You'll be my little mamacita in no time.
Qué hora es?
- "What time is it?" - "What time is it?"
Time for bed.
Sweet dreams, jellybean.
Butch?
Never mind.
Merde. You startled me.
Did you have a bad dream?
Shit.
What is this you're watching?
A motorcycle movie. I'm not sure the name.
Are you watching it?
In a way.
It's a little early in the morning for explosions and war.
What was it about?
How should I know, Fabienne? You were the one who was watching it.
No, imbecile, what was your dream about?
I don't know. I don't remember.
It's really rare that I remember my dreams.
Well, let's look at the grumpy man in the morning.
Why don't you get up and we'll get some breakfast?
One more kiss, and I'll get up.
Satisfied?
Yep.
Then get up, lazy bones.
God.
What time is it?
Almost 9:00 in the morning.
What time does our train arrive?
11:00.
You know what I'm gonna have for breakfast?
What, lemon pie?
I'm gonna order a big plate
of blueberry pancakes with maple syrup.
Eggs over easy, and five sausages.
Anything to drink with that?
That looks nice.
To drink,
a tall glass of orange juice and a black cup of coffee.
After that, I'm going to have a slice of pie.
Pie for breakfast?
Any time of the day is a good time for pie.
Blueberry pie to go with the pancakes.
And on top, a thin slice of melted cheese...
Where's my watch?
It's there.
No, it's not.
Have you looked?
Yes, I fucking looked. What the fuck do you think I'm doing?
You sure you got it?
Yes. Bedside table drawer.
- On the little kangaroo? - Yes. It was on the little kangaroo.
Yeah, well, it's not here now.
Well, it should be.
Yes, it most definitely should be, but it's not here now.
So where the fuck is it?
Fabienne,
that was my father's fucking watch.
Do you have any idea of what he had to go through to get me that watch?
I don't have time to go into it, but he went through a lot.
Now, all this other shit you could set on fire,
but I specifically reminded you not to forget the fucking watch!
Now think. Did you get it?
I believe so.
You believe so? What the fuck does that mean?
You either did, or you didn't get it!
Then I did.
Are you sure?
No.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Motherfucker! Motherfucker!
Do you know how fucking stupid you fucking are?
No!
It's not your fault.
If you left it at the apartment...
If you left it at the apartment, it's not your fault.
I had you bring a bunch of stuff.
I reminded you about it, but I didn't illustrate
how personal the watch was to me.
If all I gave a fuck about was the watch,
I should've told you that.
You're not a mind reader,
are you?
I'm-- I'm sorry.
Don't be. It just means I can't have breakfast with you.
Why does it mean that?
Because I got to go back to my apartment and get my watch.
Won't the gangsters be looking for you there?
Well, that's what I'm going to find out.
If they are,
and I don't think I can handle it,
then I'll split.
I saw your watch. I thought I brought it.
I'm so sorry.
Here's some money.
Go out and get those pancakes. Have a nice breakfast.
I'll take your Honda. I'll be back before you can say blueberry pie.
Blueberry pie.
Maybe not that fast,
- but pretty fast, okay? - Okay.
- Bye. - Bye.
Shit! Of all the fucking things she could fucking forget,
she forgets my father's watch!
I specifically reminded her.
"Bedside table, on the kangaroo."
I said the words, "Don't forget my father's watch."
Looking good, Butch.
That's how you're going to beat 'em, Butch.
They keep underestimating you.
Flowers on the wall
That don't bother me at all
Smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo
Motherfucker.
He's dead.
- Oh, my God. - He's dead.
If you need someone to go to court, I will be glad to help, okay?
That guy was a drunken maniac.
He hit you, and then he crashed into that car.
- Who? - Him.
I'll be damned.
I'm shot!
- Can I help you with something? - Shut the fuck up.
Now you just wait a goddamn minute now.
What the fuck are you up to?
Come here, motherfucker!
You feel that sting, big boy, huh?
That's pride fucking with you, see?
You got to fight through that shit.
You better kill me.
Yeah, somebody's going to get killed.
Somebody's going to get their motherfucking head blown to--
Hold it right there, goddamn it.
This ain't none of your business, mister.
I'm making it my business. Toss the weapon.
- You don't understand, man. - Toss the weapon.
Take your foot off the nigger.
Put your hands behind your head.
Approach the counter right now.
This motherfucker's trying to kill me.
Shut up.
Keep a-coming. Come on.
Zed, it's Maynard.
Yeah. The spider just caught a couple of flies.
Nobody kills anybody in my place of business
except me or Zed.
That's Zed.
I thought you said you waited for me.
I did.
So how come they're all beat up?
They did that to each other, man. They came in fighting.
Now, this one right here,
he was going to shoot that one.
Is that right? You were going to shoot him, boy?
Hey, is Grace all right out front?
Yeah. It ain't Tuesday, is it?
No. It's Thursday.
She ought to be fine.
Well...
Bring out the gimp.
I think the gimp's sleeping.
Well, I guess you'll just have to go wake him up, now, won't you?
Get up.
Get down.
Which one of 'em you want to do first?
I ain't for sure yet.
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.
Catch a nigger by the toe.
If he hollers, let him go.
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.
My mother said
to pick the perfect one.
And you are...
It.
I guess that means you, big boy.
You want to do it in here?
No. Let's do it back there in Russell's old room.
Sounds good to me.
You keep an eye on this one.
Goddamn it, hold his arm.
Yeah!
Yeah, go!
Come on, motherfucker!
Now, motherfucker!
Yeah!
Go!
Come on, motherfucker!
Come on!
Yeah!
Come on!
Now, motherfucker!
Come on!
Yeah!
Yeah! Yeah, baby!
Shut the fuck up!
Fuck!
Come on!
Yeah.
You want that gun, don't you, Zed?
Go ahead and pick it up.
Go ahead, pick it up.
Come on. Atta boy.
I want you to pick it up,
Zed.
Step aside, Butch.
Fuck!
You okay?
No, man.
I'm pretty fucking far from okay.
What now?
Let me tell you what now.
I'm going to 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 by a damn sight.
I'm going to get medieval on your ass.
I meant what now between me and you.
That what now.
I tell you what now between me and you.
There is no me and you.
Not no more.
So are we cool?
Yeah, we cool.
Two things...
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 nobody else's business.
Two,
you leave town tonight, right now.
And when you're gone, you stay gone,
or you be gone.
You lost all your LA privileges. Deal?
Deal.
Get your ass out of here.
Fabienne!
Fabienne.
Come on, baby, come on. Get your shit. We got to go right now.
Butch, I was so worried. What about our bags?
Fuck the bags. If we don't split right now,
we're going to miss the train. Come on. I'll be downstairs.
- Is everything well? - Just come on! No talking now.
Are we in danger?
Come on, honey!
Where did you get this motorcycle?
It's not a motorcycle, baby. It's a chopper. Come on, let's go.
What happened to my Honda?
I'm sorry, baby. I had to crash that Honda.
Will you come on now, please?
Come on, let's go, let's go, let's go.
You're hurt?
No, no. I might've broken my nose. It's no biggie. Come on, hop on.
Baby, please, we got... Honey, we got to hit the fucking road.
Get on.
I'm sorry. Come here, come here.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
You were gone so long I started to think dreadful thoughts.
Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to worry you.
Everything's fine. How was your breakfast?
- It was good. - Did you get the pancakes?
- The blueberry pancakes? - They didn't have blueberry pancakes.
I had to get buttermilk. Are you sure you're okay?
Honey, since I left you it has...
This has been without a doubt
the single weirdest fucking day of my life.
Come on, hop on. I'll tell you all about it.
Come on, get on. Gotta go, gotta go. Come on.
Butch, whose motorcycle is this?
It's a chopper, baby.
Whose chopper is this?
- Zed's. - Who's Zed?
Zed's dead, baby.
Zed's dead.
Yes, you did, Brett!
- You tried to fuck him. - No.
And Marsellus Wallace don't like to be fucked by anybody
- except Mrs. Wallace. - Oh, God, please. I don't want to die.
- You read the Bible, Brett? - Yes!
Well, there's this passage I got memorized.
It sort of fits this occasion.
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 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."
I'm fucked. I'm fucked.
I'm fucked.
- Is he a friend of yours? - Oh, God...
Vincent, Marvin. Marvin, Vincent.
Better tell him to shut the fuck up.
- He's getting on my nerves. - Marvin. Marvin.
Marvin!
I'd knock that shit off if I was you.
Die, you motherfuckers!
Die!
Why the fuck didn't you tell us somebody was in the bathroom?
Slip your mind?
Did you forget that someone was in there with a goddamn hand-cannon?
You see the size of that gun he fired at us?
It was bigger than him.
We should be fucking dead, man.
I know. We was lucky.
No, no, no, no. That shit wasn't luck.
Yeah, maybe.
This was divine intervention.
You know what divine intervention is?
I think so.
That means that God came down from heaven and stopped the bullets.
That's right. That's exactly what it means.
God came down from heaven and stopped these motherfucking bullets.
I think it's time for us to leave, Jules.
Don't do that. Don't fucking blow this shit off.
What just happened here was a fucking miracle.
Chill, Jules. This shit happens.
Wrong. Wrong. This shit doesn't just happen.
Do you want to continue this theological discussion in a car?
Or in a jailhouse with the cops?
We should be fucking dead, my friend.
What happened here was a miracle, and I want you to fucking acknowledge it.
All right, it was a miracle.
Can we go now?
Let's go, nigger. Come on.
Shit.
You ever seen that show Cops?
Well, I was watching it one time, and there was this cop on,
and he was talking about this gunfight he had in a hallway with this guy, right?
And he just unloaded on this guy and nothing happened.
He didn't hit nothing. Okay? It was just him and this guy.
I mean, you know...
It's freaky, but it happens.
Look, you want to play blind man, go walk with the shepherd.
But me, my eyes are wide fucking open.
What the fuck does that mean?
It means that's it for me.
From here on in, you can consider my ass retired.
- Jesus Christ. - Don't blaspheme.
- Goddamn it. - I said don't do that.
You know, why are you fucking freaking out on us?
Look, I'm telling Marsellus today. I'm through.
Well, why don't you tell him at the same time why?
Don't worry. I will.
Yeah, and I'll bet you $10,000 he laughs his ass off.
I don't give a damn if he does.
Marvin, what do you make of all this?
Man, I don't even have an opinion.
Well, you got to have an opinion.
I mean, do you think that God came down from heaven and stopped--
- What the fuck's happening? Shit, man! - Man!
Man, I shot Marvin in the face.
Why the fuck did you do that?
Well, I didn't mean to do it. It was an accident.
Oh, man, I've seen some crazy-ass shit in my time, but this...
Chill out, man. I told you it was an accident.
You probably... You went over a bump or something.
Hey, the car didn't hit no motherfucking bump.
Hey, look, man, I didn't mean to shoot the son of a bitch.
The gun went off. I don't know why.
Well, look at this fucking mess, man!
We're on a city street in broad daylight.
- I can't believe it, man. - Well, believe it now, motherfucker.
We got to get this car off the road. You know, cops tend to notice shit
like you're driving a car drenched in fucking blood.
Just take it to a friendly place, that's all.
This is the Valley, Vincent. Marsellus ain't got no friendly places.
Well, Jules, this ain't my fucking town, man!
Shit!
- What you doing? - I'm calling my partner in Toluca Lake.
Where's Toluca Lake?
It's just over the hill here, over by Burbank Studios.
If Jimmie's ass ain't home,
I don't know what the fuck we going to do, man,
because I ain't got no other partners in 818.
Jimmie, yo, how you doing, man? It's Jules.
Just listen up, man.
Me and my homeboy are in some serious fucking shit, man.
We're in a car, and we got to get off the road pronto.
I need to use your garage for a couple hours.
We got to be real fucking delicate with this Jimmie situation, you know.
He's one remark away from kicking our asses out the door.
If he does, what do we do?
Well, we ain't leaving until we made a couple calls,
but I don't want it to reach that pitch.
I mean, Jimmie's a friend.
You don't come into your friend's house and start telling him what's what.
Well, just tell him not to be abusive, that's all.
I mean, he kind of freaked out back there when he saw Marvin.
Well, put yourself in his position.
I mean, it's 8:00 in the morning.
He just woke up. He wasn't expecting this shit.
I mean, shit, we got to remember here who's doing who a favor.
Well, if that favor means that I got to take shit,
then he can stick that favor straight up his ass. I don't care.
Hey, fuck, nigger. What the fuck did you just do to his towel, man?
- I was drying my hands. - Well, you're supposed to wash them first.
- Well, you watched me wash them. - I watched you get them wet.
I was washing them. This shit's hard to get off.
Maybe if he had Lava, I could've done a better job.
I used the same fucking soap you did,
and when I finished, the towel didn't look like no goddamn maxi pad.
Now, what if he was to come in here and see his towel like this, Vincent?
It's shit like this that's going to bring this situation to a head, man.
Look... I ain't threatening you or nothing, all right?
You know I respect you and all,
but just don't put me in this position, all right?
All right. Fine. Fine.
Ask me nice like that, no problem.
Just go handle your friend. Go ahead. I don't care.
Goddamn, Jimmie.
This is some serious gourmet shit.
Me and Vincent would've been satisfied
with some freeze-dried Taster's Choice, right?
And he springs this serious gourmet shit on us.
- What flavor is this? - Knock it off, Julie.
What?
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.
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.
- Jimmie, don't even worry about it. - No, no, no.
Don't tell me don't think about anything. I want to ask you a question.
When you came pulling in here, did you notice a sign out in the front of my house
that said "dead nigger storage"?
Jimmie, you know I didn't see no shit...
Did you notice a sign in the front of my house
that said "dead nigger storage"?
No. I didn't.
- You know why you didn't see that sign? - Why?
'Cause it ain't there, 'cause storing dead niggers
ain't my fucking business, that's why!
- Jimmie, we're not going to store-- - No, no. Don't you fucking realize, man,
that if Bonnie comes home and finds a dead body in her house,
I'm going to get divorced?
All right? No marriage counselor, 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 mean, I want to help you.
But I don't want to lose my wife doing it, all right?
Jimmie, Jimmie, she ain't going to leave you.
Don't fucking "Jimmie" me, Jules!
Okay? Don't fucking "Jimmie" me.
There's nothing that you're gonna say
that's going to 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 got to make some phone calls? You got to call some people?
Well, then do it, and then get the fuck out of my house
before she gets here.
Hey, that's Kool and the Gang.
You know, we don't want to fuck your shit up.
All I want to do is call my people, get them to bring us in, that's all.
You don't want to fuck my shit up? You're fucking my shit up right now.
You're going to 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.
Well, say she comes home,
what do you think she'll do?
No fucking shit, she'll freak.
That ain't no kind of answer.
I mean, you know, I don't. How much? A lot or a little?
You got to appreciate what an explosive element
this Bonnie situation is.
I mean, if she comes home from a hard day's work
and finds a bunch of gangsters in her kitchen
doing a bunch of gangster shit,
there ain't no telling what she's liable to do.
Yeah, I've grasped that, Jules.
All I'm doing is contemplating the "ifs."
I don't want to hear about no motherfucking "ifs."
All I want to 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."
You ain't got no problem, Jules.
I'm on the motherfucker.
Go back in there and chill them niggers out
and wait for The Wolf, who should be coming directly.
You're sending The Wolf?
You feel better, motherfucker?
Shit, Negro, that's all you had to say.
Is she the hysterical type?
When is she due?
Bank six, Dianne.
Give me the principals' names again.
Place your bets.
Jules.
Vincent.
Bank?
- Bank wins... - Jimmie.
- Place a bet. - Bonnie.
It's 30 minutes away.
I'll be there in ten.
You're Jimmie, right? This is your house?
Sure is.
I'm Winston Wolf. I solve problems.
Good. We got one.
So I heard. May I come in?
Yeah, please do.
You must be Jules, which would make you Vincent.
Let's get down to brass tacks, gentlemen.
If I was informed correctly,
the clock is ticking, is that right, Jimmie?
100%.
Your wife, Bonnie, comes home at 9:30 in the a.m., is that correct?
Uh-huh.
I was led to believe if she comes home and finds us here,
she wouldn't appreciate it none too much?
You wouldn't bet.
All right, that gives us 40 minutes to get the fuck out of Dodge,
which, if you do what I say when I say it, should be plenty.
Now, you got a corpse in a car minus a head in a garage. Take me to it.
- Jimmie? - Uh-huh?
Do me a favor, will you?
I thought I smelled some coffee back there.
Would you make me a cup?
Yeah, sure.
How do you take it?
Lots of cream, lots of sugar.
About the car, is there anything I need to know?
Does it stall, does it smoke, does it make a lot of noise?
Is there gas in it? Anything?
Aside from how it looks, the car is cool.
Positive? Don't get me out there on the road,
I find out the brake lights don't work.
Hey, man, far as I know, the motherfucker's tip-top.
Good enough.
Let's go back to the kitchen.
Here you go, Mr. Wolf.
Thank you, Jimmie.
Okay. First thing.
You two, take the body, stick it in the trunk.
Now, Jimmie, this looks to be a pretty domesticated house.
That would lead me to believe in the garage or under the sink,
you got a bunch of cleaners and shit like that.
- Yeah, Mr. Wolf. Under the sink. - Good.
What I need you two fellas to do is take those cleaning products
and clean the inside of the car.
I'm talking fast, fast, fast.
You need to go in the back seat,
scoop up all those little pieces of brain and skull.
Get it out of there. Wipe down the upholstery.
Now, when it comes to upholstery, it don't need to be spick-and-span.
You don't need to eat off it. Just give it a good once-over.
What you need to take care of are the really messy parts.
The pools of blood that have collected, you got to soak that shit up.
Now, Jimmie,
we need to raid your linen closet.
I need blankets. I need comforters.
I need quilts. I need bedspreads.
The thicker the better, the darker the better.
No whites. Can't use 'em.
We need to camouflage the interior of the car.
We're going to line the front seat and the back seat and the floorboards
with quilts and blankets.
So if a cop stops us
and starts sticking his big snout in the car,
the subterfuge won't last,
but at a glance, the car will appear to be normal.
Jimmie, lead the way. Boys, get to work.
A "please" would be nice.
Come again?
I said a "please" would be nice.
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 is not appreciated, lots of luck, gentlemen.
No, no, no, Mr. Wolf, it ain't like that.
- Your help is definitely appreciated. - Mr. Wolf, listen.
I don't mean disrespect, okay? I respect you.
I just don't like people barking orders at me, that's all.
If I'm curt with you, it's because time is a factor.
I think fast, I talk fast,
and I need you guys to act fast if you want to get out of this.
So pretty please with sugar on top,
clean the fucking car.
Don't be looking at me like that, all right?
I can feel your look.
It's a 1974 Chevy Nova.
Green.
Nothing except for the mess inside.
About 20 minutes.
Nobody who'll be missed.
You're a good man, Joe.
Thanks a bunch.
How we coming, Jimmie?
Pretty good. I got-- I got it all here,
but...
Mr. Wolf, you gotta understand something.
Winston, Jimmie, please. Winston.
Okay.
You gotta understand something now, Winston.
No, thank you.
This is our best linen here,
and it's a...
It was a wedding present from my uncle Conrad and my aunt Ginny,
and they're not with us anymore.
- And I really want to help you guys out-- - Let me ask you a question, Jimmie.
- If you don't mind. - No, no, please, please. Go ahead.
Your uncle Conrad and aunt Ginny,
were they millionaires?
No.
Well, your uncle Marsellus is,
and I'm positive if Uncle Conrad and Aunt...
- Ginny. - ...Ginny were here,
they would furnish you with a whole bedroom set,
which your uncle Marsellus is more than happy to do.
I like oak myself.
That's what I have in my bedroom.
How about you, Jimmie?
You an oak man?
Oak's nice.
Oh, man.
I will never forgive your ass for this shit.
This is some fucked-up repugnant shit.
Jules, did you ever hear the philosophy that once a man admits that he is wrong
that he is immediately forgiven for all wrongdoings?
Have you ever heard that?
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.
I got a threshold, Jules.
I 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.
- You ready to blow? - Yeah, I'm ready to blow.
Well, I'm a mushroom-cloud-laying motherfucker, motherfucker.
Every time my fingers touch brain,
I'm Super Fly T.N.T. I'm the Guns of the Navarone.
In fact, what the fuck am I doing in the back?
You the motherfucker who should be on brain detail.
We fucking switching.
I'm washing the windows, and you picking up this nigger's skull.
Fine job, gentlemen.
We may get out of this yet.
I can't believe this is the same car.
Well, let's not start sucking each other's dicks quite yet.
Phase one is complete, clean the car,
which moves us right along to phase two.
Clean you two.
Strip.
All the way?
To your bare ass.
Quickly, gentlemen.
We got about 15 minutes
before Jimmie's better half comes pulling into the driveway.
Damn. This morning air is some chilly shit.
Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?
You know what you two look like?
What?
Like a couple of guys who just blew off somebody's head.
Stripping off those bloody rags is absolutely necessary.
Toss them in Jim's garbage bag.
Don't do nothing stupid, like leaving this shit out front
for Otto the garbageman to pick up, you know what I'm saying?
Don't worry. We're taking it with us.
Jim, the soap.
- Vincent. - Okay, gentlemen,
you've both been to county before, I'm sure. Here it comes.
Goddamn! The water's fucking cold.
Better you than me, gentlemen.
Don't be afraid of the soap. Spread it around.
Get him up there a little bit.
- Vincent's hair. - Shit out my hair.
Come on, do it, goddamn it. Do it!
Towel 'em.
They're dry enough. Toss them their clothes.
Perfect.
Perfect. We couldn't have planned this better.
You guys look like...
What do they look like, Jimmie?
Dorks.
They look like a couple of dorks.
They're your clothes, motherfucker.
Come on, gentlemen. We're laughing our way right into prison.
Don't make me beg.
Okay, gentlemen, let's get our rules of the road straight.
We're going to a place called Monster Joe's Truck and Tow.
Now, Monster Joe and his daughter Raquel are sympathetic to our dilemma.
The place is North Hollywood,
so a few twists and turns aside,
we'll be going up Hollywood Way.
Now, I'll drive the tainted car.
Jules, you ride with me.
Vincent, you follow in my Acura.
Now, if we come across the path of any John Q. Laws,
nobody does a fucking thing until I do something.
- Right. - What did I say?
Don't do shit unless.
Unless what?
Unless you do it first.
Spoken like a true prodigy.
How about you, Lash La Rue?
Can you keep your spurs from jingling and jangling?
Mr. Wolf, look, the gun went off.
I don't why. I'm cool. I promise you.
Fair enough.
Now, I drive real fucking fast, so keep up.
If I get my car back any different than I gave it,
Monster Joe's going to be disposing of two bodies.
Out of my way, Rex.
- We cool? - Like it never happened.
All right.
Boys, this is Raquel.
Someday, all this will be hers.
Hi. So, what's with the outfits?
You guys going to a volleyball game or something?
I'm taking my lady out for breakfast.
Maybe I could drop you two off. Where do you live?
- Redondo. - Inglewood.
It's... It's your future. I...
I see a... a cab ride.
Move out of the sticks, fellas.
Say good night, Raquel.
Good night, Raquel.
I'll see you guys around.
Stay out of trouble, you crazy kids.
Mr. Wolf, I just want to tell you it was a real pleasure watching you work.
Yeah, really, and thank you very much, Mr. Wolf.
Call me Winston.
You see that, young lady? Respect.
- Respect for one's elders shows character. - I have character.
Because you are a character
doesn't mean that you have character.
Wanna share a cab?
You know, I could go for some breakfast.
Feel like having breakfast with me?
Cool.
I don't know why,
I just thought he'd be European or something, because he...
Yo, man, he's about as European as fucking English Bob.
- I know that now, but... - Was he cool or what?
Thank you.
Totally fucking cool, in control.
Didn't even, you know, really get pissed when you were fucking with him.
I was amazed.
Want some bacon?
No, man. I don't eat pork.
Are you Jewish?
No, I ain't Jewish. I just don't dig on swine, that's all.
Why not?
Pigs are filthy animals. I don't eat filthy animals.
Yeah, but bacon tastes good.
Pork chops taste good.
Hey, a sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie,
but I'd never know because I wouldn't eat the filthy motherfuckers.
Pigs sleep and root in shit.
That's a filthy animal.
I ain't eating nothing that ain't got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
How about a dog? A dog eats his own feces.
I don't eat dog, either.
Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy,
but they're definitely dirty.
But a dog's got personality.
Personality goes a long way.
So by that rationale,
if a pig had a better personality,
he would cease to be a filthy animal.
Is that true?
Well, we'd have to be talking about one charming motherfucking pig.
I mean, he'd have to be ten times more charming
than that Arnold on Green Acres, know what I'm saying?
Oh, man, that's good.
That's good, man. You're starting to lighten up.
You been sitting there all serious and shit.
Man, I've just been sitting here thinking.
About what?
About the miracle we witnessed.
The miracle you witnessed. I witnessed a freak occurrence.
What is a miracle, Vincent?
An act of God.
And what's an act of God?
When God makes the impossible possible.
But this morning I don't think qualifies.
Hey, Vincent, don't you see that shit don't matter?
You're judging this shit the wrong way.
I mean, it could be 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.
But what is significant is I felt the touch of God.
God got involved.
But why?
Well, that's what's fucking with me. I don't know why.
But I can't go back to sleep.
You're serious? You're really thinking about quitting?
- The life? - Yeah.
Most definitely.
Fuck.
What you going to do, then?
Well...
...that's what I've been sitting here contemplating.
First, I'm going to deliver this case to Marsellus.
Then, basically, I'm just going to walk the Earth.
What you mean, "walk the Earth"?
You know, like Caine in Kung Fu.
Walk from place to place, meet people, get in adventures.
And how long do you intend to walk the Earth?
Until God puts me where he wants me to be.
And what if he don't do that?
If it takes forever, then I'll walk forever.
So you decided to be a bum?
I'll just be Jules, Vincent. No more, no less.
No, Jules. You decided to be a bum.
Just like all those pieces of shit out there
who beg for change, who sleep in garbage bins,
eat what I throw away.
They got a name for that, Jules.
It's called a bum.
And without a job, a residence, or legal tender,
that's what you're going to be, man. You're going to be a fucking bum.
Look, my friend, this is just where you and I differ.
Garçon.
Coffee.
Jules, look, what happened this morning, man, I agree it was peculiar.
- But water into wine. I-- - All shapes and sizes, Vincent.
- Don't fucking talk to me that way, man. - If my answers frighten you, Vincent,
then you should cease asking scary questions.
I'm going to take a shit.
Let me ask you something. When did you make this decision?
When you were sitting there eating that muffin?
Well, yeah.
I was sitting here eating my muffin and drinking my coffee
and replaying the incident in my head
when I had what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity.
Fuck.
To be continued.
I love you, Pumpkin.
And I love you, Honey Bunny.
Everybody, be cool! This is a robbery!
Any of you fucking pricks move,
and I'll execute every one of you motherfuckers!
You got that?
You just be quiet over there!
Get the fuck down!
You, you're in a blind spot.
Take your dames over to that booth over there on the count of ten.
Mexicans, out of the fucking kitchen!
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...
Where the fuck are you going? You fucking yuppie! Get down!
- Hey, you, throw those bags! - Fucking wanker! Move! Move!
What the fuck are you doing? Move!
- The restaurant's ours! - Move! Get down on the fucking floor!
Grandpa, down!
I'm the manager here,
and there's no problem. No problem at all.
- You're going to give me a problem? - No, sir, I'm not.
I thought you said you're going to give me a fucking problem!
You're going to give me a fucking problem?
- I think we got a hero here, Honey Bunny! - Well, just execute him!
I am not a hero. I'm just a coffee shop--
Get the fuck down!
The restaurant's ours!
Just take whatever you want.
- All right, you talk to the customers. - Yeah.
- You tell them to be fucking cool... - Yes.
- ...and everything will be over! - Yeah.
- You understand me? - Yes.
Listen, everybody.
Be calm, cooperate,
and this will all be over in a minute.
Get the fuck down! Well done.
All right, now, people,
I'm going to come around and collect your wallets.
You don't fucking talk.
You just throw them in the bag. Are we clear?
I said, are we fucking clear?
Good. Now wallets out.
That's it. Get the fuck down.
In the bag.
In the fucking bag!
I don't have nothing on me, man.
What am I waiting for? In the fucking bag.
Laura? Laura, tips.
- In the bag. - Yeah.
Is that a cellular phone?
- Yeah. - In the fucking bag.
Tidy up, tidy up. That's it. Now get the fuck down on the floor.
In the bag.
- What's in the case? - My boss's dirty laundry.
- Your boss makes you do his laundry? - When he wants it clean.
Sounds like a shit job.
- Funny. I was thinking the same thing. - Open it.
Afraid I can't do that.
I didn't hear you.
Yes, you did.
What's going on?
Looks like we got a vigilante in our midst.
Shoot him in the face.
I hate to shatter your ego, but this ain't the first time
I've had a gun pointed at me.
You don't take your fucking hand off that case, it'll be your last.
Stop causing problems! You'll get us all killed!
Give 'em what you got and get 'em out of here!
Shut the fuck up, fat man! This ain't none of your goddamn business.
Be cool, Honey Bunny. Be cool.
It's no problem. I got it under control.
Now, I'm going to count to three.
If you don't open that case,
I'm going to unload in your fucking face.
We clear?
One...
two...
- three. - Okay, Ringo.
You win.
It's yours.
Open it.
What is it?
Is that what I think it is?
It's beautiful.
Goddamn it, what is it?
You let him go! You let him go! Let go of him!
- Tell that bitch to be cool! - I'm gonna kill you!
- Say, "Bitch, be cool!" - Be cool, Honey Bunny!
- Say, "Bitch, be cool!" - Be cool!
- Tell that fucking bitch to chill! - Be cool, Honey Bunny!
- Chill that fucking bitch out! - Chill out, Honey Bunny!
- Let go of him! - Chill!
Chill out, Honey Bunny!
Tell her it's going to be all right.
- It's going to be all right. - Promise her!
- I promise! - Tell her to chill!
- Just chill out, Honey Bunny! - All right, now tell me her name.
- Yolanda. - All right, now, Yolanda!
We're not gonna do anything stupid, are we?
- Don't you hurt him! - Nobody's gonna hurt anybody.
We're all gonna be like three little Fonzies here.
And what's Fonzie like?
Come on, Yolanda, what's Fonzie like?
He's cool?
- What? - Cool.
Correctamundo!
And that's what we're gonna be. We're gonna be cool.
Now, Ringo, I'm gonna count to three.
And when I count three,
I want you to let go of your gun,
put your palms flat on the table,
and sit your ass down.
But when you do it, you do it cool.
You ready?
One...
two...
three.
Okay, now you let him go!
Yolanda, I thought 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.
Just know, you hurt him, you die.
Well, that seems to be the situation.
But I don't want that, and you don't want that,
and Ringo here definitely doesn't want that.
So let's see what we can do.
Now...
Here's the situation.
Normally both your asses would be dead as fucking fried chicken,
but you happened to pull this shit
while I'm in a transitional period, and I don't want to kill you.
I want to help you.
But I can't give you this case,
'cause it don't belong to me.
Besides, I been through too much shit over this case this morning
to just hand it over to your dumb ass.
Vincent!
Be cool!
Yolanda, it's cool, baby! It's cool!
We still just talking! Come on, point the gun at me!
Point the gun at me! There you go.
Now, Vincent, you just hang back and don't do a goddamn thing.
Tell her we're still cool.
- We're still cool, Honey Bunny. - How we doing, baby?
I-- I gotta go pee.
- I want to go home. - Just hang in there, baby.
You're doing great. I'm proud of you. And Ringo's proud of you.
It's almost over.
Tell her you're proud of her.
- I'm proud of you, Honey Bunny. - I love you.
I love you, too, Honey Bunny.
Now, I want you to go in that bag
and find my wallet.
Which one is it?
It's the one that says, "bad motherfucker."
That's it. That's my bad motherfucker.
Open it up. Take out the money.
Count it.
How much is there?
About $1,500.
Okay, put it in your pocket. It's yours.
Now, with the rest of those wallets and the register,
that makes this a pretty successful little score, huh?
Jules, you give that fucking nimrod $1,500,
- and I'll shoot him on general principle. - No, Yolanda, Yolanda!
He ain't gonna do a goddamn motherfucking thing.
Vince, shut the fuck up!
- Shut up! - Come on, Yolanda, stay with me, baby.
Now, I ain't giving it to him, Vincent.
I'm buying something for my money.
Wanna know what I'm buying, Ringo?
- What? - Your life.
I'm giving you that money so I don't have to kill your ass.
You read the Bible, Ringo?
Not regularly, no.
Well, 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 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 I am the Lord
when I lay my vengeance upon you."
Now, 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. 9-millimeter 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.
Now, I'd like that.
But that shit ain't the truth.
The truth is...
you're the weak...
and I am the tyranny of evil men.
But I'm trying, Ringo.
I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd.
Go.
I think we should be leaving now.
Yeah, that's probably a good idea.