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Victor Von Doom: Same old Reed, always stretching, reaching for the stars. (Ace Goodman) [snaps his fingers - his fingers light fire. Snaps his fingers again - fire goes out] Johnny Storm: Now picture that... but everywhere! (Ace Goodman) Reed Richards: Like getting girls and making money? Johnny Storm: Is there any higher? (Ace Goodman) | |
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Fabienne: Ah, I like that. I like tulip. Tulip is much better than mongoloid. (Ace Goodman) Butch: In the fifth, my ass goes down. (Ace Goodman) Jules: Mmmm! 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: [pause] 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 wanjt 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 see 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 see a sign out in front of my house that said Dead Nigger Storage? Jules: [pause] 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! (Ace Goodman) Vincent: Not the same thing, the same ballpark. Jules: It ain't no fuckin' ballpark either. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her holyiest of holies, ain't the same ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Foot massages don't mean shit. Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage? Jules: Don't be tellin' me about foot massages - I'm the foot fuckin' master. Vincent: Given a lot of 'em? Jules: Shit yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothin'. 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. Jules: Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' pissed. (Ace Goodman) Pumpkin: I love you too, Honey Bunny. Pumpkin: [Standing up with a gun] Alright, everybody be cool, this is a robbery! Honey Bunny: Any of you fucking pricks move, and I'll execute every motherfucking last one of ya! (Ace Goodman) Jules: That's an interesting point. (Ace Goodman) Jimmie: Sure is. The Wolf: I'm Winston Wolf. I solve problems. Jimmie: Good, we got one. The Wolf: So I heard. May I come in? Jimmie: Uh, yeah, please do. (Ace Goodman) Vincent: At Marsellus's request. Paul: You met Mia yet? Vincent: No. [Jules and Paul laugh] Vincent: What's so fucking funny? Jules: I gotta piss. [exits] Vincent: Look, I'm not stupid. 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. (Ace Goodman) Yolanda: 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, doesn't even lift a fucking finger. Yolanda: 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. (Ace Goodman) 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. Yolanda: 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 these days. Vietnamese, Koreans, they don't even speak 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, one of these gook fuckers is gonna make us kill him. Yolanda: 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. (Ace Goodman) 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. Yolanda: I bet you could cut down on the hero factor in a place like this. Pumpkin: Right, just like banks, these places are insured. Manager? He don't give a fuck. He just wants 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? See, I got the idea, last liquor store we held up, all the customers kept coming in? Yolanda: Yeah. Pumpkin: And you got the idea of taking their wallets. Now that was a good idea. Yolanda: Thank you. Pumpkin: Made more from the wallets than we did from the register. Yolanda: Yes, we did. Pumpkin: A lot of customers come into a restaurant. Yolanda: A lot of wallets. Pumpkin: Pretty smart, eh? Yolanda: Pretty smart. (Ace Goodman) | |
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