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Vincent: This fucked-up bitch is Marsellus Wallace's wife. Do you know who Marsellus Wallace is? Do you? If she croaks on me, I'm a fuckin' greasespot. (Ace Goodman) Fabienne: I believe so. Butch: You BELIEVE so? You BELIEVE so? WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN? You either did, or you didn't. Fabienne: Then I did. Butch: Are you sure. Fabienne: [Shakes her head, no] [a pause] Butch: [Explodes into a rampage] FUCK. MOTHERFUCKING SHIT. DO YOU FUCKING KNOW HOW FUCKING STUPID YOU ARE? SHIT. FUCK. [He calms down just as quickly and suddenly as he started] Butch: It's not your fault. (Ace Goodman) | |
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Mia: Something. (Ace Goodman) Jules: All the way? The Wolf: To your bare ass. Vincent: Is this necessary? The Wolf: You know what you guys look like? Jules: What? The Wolf: Like a couple of guys who just blew off somebody's head. (Ace Goodman) Vincent: I don't watch TV. Jules: Yeah, but, you are aware that there's an invention called television, and on this invention they show shows, right? (Ace Goodman) Fabienne: It's there. Butch: No it's not. Fabienne: It should be. Butch: Yes it most definitely should be but it's not here now, so where the fuck is it? (Ace Goodman) Lance: Am I a nigger? Are we in Inglewood? No... You're in my home. White people who know the difference between good shit and bad shit, this is the house they come to. Now, my shit, I'll take the Pepsi challenge with that Amsterdam shit, any day of the fuckin' week. Vincent: That's a bold statement. Lance: This ain't Amsterdam, Vince. This is a sellers market. Coke is fucking dead as... dead. Heroin, it's coming back in a big fucking way. (Ace Goodman) Marsellus: Oh, you feel better, motherfucker? Jules: [relieved] Shit, negro, that's all you had to say. (Ace Goodman) Vincent: Redondo Beach. Jules: Inglewood. The Wolf: It's your future... I see a cab ride. Move out of the styx gentlemen. (Ace Goodman) Vincent: We're lucky we got anything at all. I don't think Buddy Holly's much of a waiter. (Ace Goodman) Brett: No. Jules: Tell him, Vincent. Vincent: Royale with cheese. Jules: Royale with cheese. Do you know why they call it a Royale with cheese? Brett: Because of the metric system? Jules: Check out the big brain on Brett. You one smart motherfucker. (Ace Goodman) Fabienne: It was good... Butch: Did you get the pancakes, the blueberry pancakes? Fabienne: No, no, they didn't have blueberry pancakes, I had to get buttermilk - are you sure you're okay? Butch: Honey, since I left you, 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. (Ace Goodman) Buddy Holly: How would you like that? Burnt to a crisp or bloody as hell? Vincent: Bloody as hell. (Ace Goodman) Vincent: Which one's Trudi? The one with all the shit in her face? Lance: No, that's Jody. That's my wife. (Ace Goodman) Vincent: Aw, man. You know what some fucker did the other day? Lance: What? Vincent: Fucking keyed it. Lance: Oh, man, that's fucked up. Vincent: Tell me about it. I had it in storage for three years, it was out for five days and some dickless piece of shit fucked with it. Lance: They should be fucking killed. No trial, no jury, straight to execution. Vincent: 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. Lance: What a fucker! Vincent: What's more chickenshit than fucking with a man's automobile? I mean, don't fuck with another man's vehicle. Lance: You don't do it. Vincent: It's just against the rules. (Ace Goodman) Vincent: Sure, but I think I'm still a little too petrified to laugh. Mia: No, you wont laugh, 'cus it's not funny. But if you still wanna hear it, I'll tell it. Vincent: I can't wait. Mia: Three tomatoes are walking down the street- a poppa tomato, a momma tomato, and a little baby tomato. Baby tomato starts lagging behind. Poppa tomato gets angry, goes over to the baby tomato, and smooshes him... and says, Catch up. (Ace Goodman) | |
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