Pulp Fiction
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Vincent Vega : | And you know what they call
a ... a ... a Quarter Pounder with cheese in Paris? |
Jules : | They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese? |
Vincent Vega : | No man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is. |
Jules : | Then what do they call it? |
Vincent Vega : | They call it a "Royale" with cheese. |
Jules : | A "Royale" with cheese! What do they call a Big Mac? |
Vincent Vega : | A Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "le Big-Mac". |
Jules : | "Le Big-Mac"! Ha ha ha ha! What do they call a Whopper? |
Vincent Vega : | I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King. |
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Jules : | Whoa...whoa...whoa...stop right there. Eatin' a bitch
out, and givin' a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fuckin' thing. |
Vincent Vega : | Not the same thing, the same ballpark. |
Jules : | It ain't no ballpark either. Look maybe your method
of massage differs from mine, but touchin' his lady's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her holyiest of holies, ain't the same ballpark, ain't the same league, ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Foot massages don't mean shit. |
Vincent Vega : | Have you ever given a foot massage? |
Jules : | Don't be tellin' me about foot massages - I'm the
foot fuckin' master. |
Vincent Vega : | Given a lot of 'em? |
Jules : | Shit yeah. I got my technique down man, I don't tickle
or nothin'. |
Vincent Vega : | Have you ever given a guy a foot massage? |
Jules : | Fuck you. |
Vincent Vega : | How many? |
Jules : | Fuck you. |
Vincent Vega : | Would you give me a foot massage? I'm kinda tired. |
Jules : | Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' pissed. |
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[Vincent Vega goes up to Butch at the bar] | |
Butch : | What're you looking at, friend? |
Vincent Vega : | I ain't your friend, Palooka. |
Butch : | What did you say? |
Vincent Vega : | I think you heard me just fine, Punchy. |
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[After a long pause in their conversation] | |
Mia Wallace : | Don't you hate that? |
Vincent Vega : | Hate what? |
Mia Wallace : | Uncomfortable silences. |
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Mia Wallace : | Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to become comfortable? |
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Esmerelda Villalobos : | What is your name? |
Butch : | Butch. |
Esmerelda Villalobos : | What does it mean? |
Butch : | I'm American, honey, our names don't mean shit. |
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Captain Koons : | The way your dad looked at it, this watch was your
birthright. He'd be damned if any of the slopes were gonna get 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 thisuncomfortable piece 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. |
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[Jules and Vinnie
take Marvin with them in their car and Vinnie's gun goes off and blows Marvin's head off] |
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Jules : | Oh! Fuck's happening! |
Vincent Vega : | Man, I shot Marvin in the face. |
Jules : | Why the fuck did you do that! Oh man I've seen some crazy ass shit in my time! |
Vincent Vega : | Chill out, man. I told you it was an accident. You
probably went over a bump or something. |
Jules : | Hey, the car didn't hit no motherfucking bump. |
Vincent Vega : | Hey, look man, I didn't mean to shoot the son of a
bitch! The gun went off. I don't know why. |
Jules : | Well look at this fucking mess, man. We're on a city street in broad daylight. |
Vincent Vega : | I don't believe it. |
Jules : | Well believe it now, motherfucker! We gotta get this car off the road. You know cops tend to notice shit like your driving a car drenched in fucking blood. |
Vincent Vega : | Take it to a friendly place, that's all. |
Jules : | We're in the Valley, Vincent! Marcellus ain't got no friendly places in the Valley. |
Vincent Vega : | Well Jules this ain't my fucking town! Shit! What you doin'? |
[Jules dials a number on his cellular phone] | |
Jules : | I'm calling my partner in Toluca Lake. |
Vincent Vega : | Where's Toluca Lake? |
Jules : | Just over the hill here over by Burbank Studios. If Jimmie's ass ain't home, I don't what the fuck we're going to do, man. 'Cause I ain't got no other partners in 8-1-8. Hey Jimmie, yo, how you doin'? It's Jules. Listen up man. Me and my homeboy are in serious fucking shit. We're in a car and we gotta get off the road, pronto. I need to use your garage for a couple of hours. |
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Jimmie : | Now let me ask you a question, Jules. When you drove in here, did you notice a sign out in front that said, "Deadnigger storage"? |
Jules : | Jimmie...... |
Jimmie : | Answer the question! Did you see a sign out in front of my house that said "Dead nigger storage"? |
Jules : | Naw man, I didn't. |
Jimmie : | You know why you didn't see that sign? |
Jules : | Why? |
Jimmie : | 'Cause storin' dead niggers ain't my fuckin' business! |
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Jimmie : | I can't believe this is the same car! |
Winston Wolf : | Well, let's not start sucking each others dicks just yet. |
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Vincent Vega : | Jules, if you give that fuckin'
nimrod fifteen hundred dollars, I'm gonna shoot him on general principles. |
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Jules : | We're all gonna be three little Fonzies - and what what was Fonzie?! |
Yolanda : | Cool? |
Jules : | Correct-a-mundo! |
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Jules : | Yolanda, I thought you were gonna be cool. When you yell at me, it makes me nervous. When I get nervous, I get scared. And when motherfuckers get scared, that's when motherfuckers get accidentally shot. |