Pulp Fiction quotes
106 total quotesMia Wallace
Multiple Characters
References
Vincent Vega
Winston Wolfe
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Jules: So, tell me again about the hash bars.
Vincent: Okay, what you wanna know?
Jules: Hash is legal there, right?
Vincent: Yeah, it's legal, but it ain't a hundred percent legal. I mean, you can't walk into a restaurant, roll a joint and start puffing away. You're only supposed to smoke in your home or certain designated places.
Jules: And those are hash bars?
Vincent: It breaks down like this: it's legal to buy it, it's legal to own it, and if you're the proprietor of a hash bar, it's legal to sell it. It's legal to carry it, but that doesn't really matter 'cause get a load of this, all right? If you get stopped by the cops in Amsterdam, it's illegal for them to search you. I mean, that's a right the cops in Amsterdam don't have.
Jules: [laughing] Oh, man! I'm going, that's all there is to it. I'm ****ing going.
Vincent: Yeah baby, you'd dig it the most. But you know what the funniest thing about Europe is?
Jules: What?
Vincent: It's the little differences. I mean, they got the same shit over there that they got here, but it's just – it's just there it's a little different.
Jules: Example?
Vincent: All right. Well, you can walk into a movie theater in Amsterdam and buy a beer. And I don't mean just like in no paper cup, I'm talking about a glass of beer. And in Paris, you can buy a beer at McDonald's. And you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?
Vincent: Nah, man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the **** a Quarter Pounder is.
Jules: What do they call it?
Vincent: They call it a "Royale with Cheese."[2]
Jules: "Royale with Cheese."
Vincent: That's right.
Jules: What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: A Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "Le Big Mac".
Jules: "Le Big Mac." [laughs] What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King. But, you know what they put on French fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
Jules: What?
Vincent: Mayonnaise.
Jules: God damn!
Vincent: I seen them do it, man, they ****ing drown them in that shit.
Jules: That's some ****ed up shit.
Vincent: Okay, what you wanna know?
Jules: Hash is legal there, right?
Vincent: Yeah, it's legal, but it ain't a hundred percent legal. I mean, you can't walk into a restaurant, roll a joint and start puffing away. You're only supposed to smoke in your home or certain designated places.
Jules: And those are hash bars?
Vincent: It breaks down like this: it's legal to buy it, it's legal to own it, and if you're the proprietor of a hash bar, it's legal to sell it. It's legal to carry it, but that doesn't really matter 'cause get a load of this, all right? If you get stopped by the cops in Amsterdam, it's illegal for them to search you. I mean, that's a right the cops in Amsterdam don't have.
Jules: [laughing] Oh, man! I'm going, that's all there is to it. I'm ****ing going.
Vincent: Yeah baby, you'd dig it the most. But you know what the funniest thing about Europe is?
Jules: What?
Vincent: It's the little differences. I mean, they got the same shit over there that they got here, but it's just – it's just there it's a little different.
Jules: Example?
Vincent: All right. Well, you can walk into a movie theater in Amsterdam and buy a beer. And I don't mean just like in no paper cup, I'm talking about a glass of beer. And in Paris, you can buy a beer at McDonald's. And you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?
Vincent: Nah, man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the **** a Quarter Pounder is.
Jules: What do they call it?
Vincent: They call it a "Royale with Cheese."[2]
Jules: "Royale with Cheese."
Vincent: That's right.
Jules: What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: A Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "Le Big Mac".
Jules: "Le Big Mac." [laughs] What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King. But, you know what they put on French fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
Jules: What?
Vincent: Mayonnaise.
Jules: God damn!
Vincent: I seen them do it, man, they ****ing drown them in that shit.
Jules: That's some ****ed up shit.
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Jules: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. Eating a bitch out and giving a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same ****ing thing.
Vincent: It's not, it's the same ballpark.
Jules: It ain't no ****ing ball park neither! Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but you know touching his wife's feet and sticking your tongue in the holiest of holies ain't the same ****ing ball park. It ain't the same league. It ain't even the same ****ing sport! Look, foot massages don't mean shit!
Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?
Jules: Don't be telling me about foot massages, I'm the foot ****in' master.
Vincent: Given a lot of them?
Jules: Shit, yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothing.
Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?
Jules: **** you.
Vincent: You give them a lot?
Jules: **** you.
Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired, I could use a foot massage myself.
Jules: Yo-yo-yo, man, you best back off, I'm getting pissed here. Look, just 'cause I wouldn't give no man a foot massage don't make it right for Marsellus to throw Antoine into a glass mother****ing house ****ing up the way the **** talks. That shit ain't right. Mother****er do that shit to me, he better paralyze my ass because I'd kill the mother****er, know what I'm saying?
Vincent: I ain't saying it's right. But you're saying a foot massage don't mean nothing, and I'm saying it does. Now look, I've given a million ladies a million foot massages, and they all meant something. We act like they don't, but they do, and that's what's so ****ing cool about them. There's a sensuous thing going on where you don't talk about it, but you know it, she knows it, ****ing Marsellus knew it, and Antoine should have ****ing better known better. I mean, that's his ****ing wife, man, he can't be expected to have a sense of humor about that shit. You know what I'm saying?
Jules: That's an interesting point.
Vincent: It's not, it's the same ballpark.
Jules: It ain't no ****ing ball park neither! Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but you know touching his wife's feet and sticking your tongue in the holiest of holies ain't the same ****ing ball park. It ain't the same league. It ain't even the same ****ing sport! Look, foot massages don't mean shit!
Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?
Jules: Don't be telling me about foot massages, I'm the foot ****in' master.
Vincent: Given a lot of them?
Jules: Shit, yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothing.
Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?
Jules: **** you.
Vincent: You give them a lot?
Jules: **** you.
Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired, I could use a foot massage myself.
Jules: Yo-yo-yo, man, you best back off, I'm getting pissed here. Look, just 'cause I wouldn't give no man a foot massage don't make it right for Marsellus to throw Antoine into a glass mother****ing house ****ing up the way the **** talks. That shit ain't right. Mother****er do that shit to me, he better paralyze my ass because I'd kill the mother****er, know what I'm saying?
Vincent: I ain't saying it's right. But you're saying a foot massage don't mean nothing, and I'm saying it does. Now look, I've given a million ladies a million foot massages, and they all meant something. We act like they don't, but they do, and that's what's so ****ing cool about them. There's a sensuous thing going on where you don't talk about it, but you know it, she knows it, ****ing Marsellus knew it, and Antoine should have ****ing better known better. I mean, that's his ****ing wife, man, he can't be expected to have a sense of humor about that shit. You know what I'm saying?
Jules: That's an interesting point.
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Mia Wallace: Don't you hate that?
Vincent: What?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
Vincent: I don't know. That's a good question.
Mia: That's when you know you've found somebody special, when you can just shut the **** up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.
Vincent: What?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
Vincent: I don't know. That's a good question.
Mia: That's when you know you've found somebody special, when you can just shut the **** up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.
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Pumpkin: The way it is now, you're taking the same risk as when you rob a bank. You take more of a risk, banks are easier. Federal banks ain't supposed to stop you in any way during a robbery. I mean, they're insured, why should they give a ****? You don't even need a gun in a federal bank. I heard of this one guy, walks into a bank with a portable phone. He gives the phone to the teller, a bloke on the other end of the line says, we've got this guy's little girl, if you don't give him all your money, we're gonna kill her.
Honey Bunny: Did it work?
Pumpkin: ****ing 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 ****ing phone. Cleans the place out, don't even lift a ****ing finger.
Honey Bunny: Did they hurt the little girl?
Pumpkin: I don't know, there probably never was a little girl in the first place. The point of the story isn't the little girl, the point of the story is they robbed a bank with a telephone.
Honey Bunny: You want to rob banks?
Pumpkin: I'm not saying I want to rob banks, I'm just illustrating that if we did, it'd be easier than what we've been doing.
Honey Bunny: No more liquor stores?
Pumpkin: What have we been talking about? Yeah, no more liquor stores. Besides, it ain't the gig it used to be. Too many foreigners own liquor stores. Vietnamese, Koreans, they don't understand ****ing English. You tell them, empty out the register, they don't know what the **** you're talking about. They make it too personal; if we keep on, one of these g**k ****ers is gonna make us kill him.
Honey Bunny: I'm not gonna kill anybody.
Pumpkin: I don't want to kill anybody either. But they'll probably put us in a situation where it's us or them. And if it's not the g**ks, it's these old ****ing Jews who've owned the store for fifteen ****ing generations, you've got Grampa Irving sitting behind the counter with a ****ing Magnum in his hand. Try walking into one of those places with nothing but a phone, see how far you get. **** it; forget it. We're out of it.
Honey Bunny: So what then, day jobs?
Pumpkin: Not in this life.
Honey Bunny: What then?
Pumpkin: Garcon! Coffee! [to Honey Bunny] This place.
Waitress: [arrives with coffee; pours some into Pumpkin and Honey Bunny's mugs] Garcon means "boy". [walks away]
Honey Bunny: This place? A coffee shop?
Pumpkin: Why not? Nobody ever robs restaurants. Bars, liquor stores, gas stations--you get your head blown off sticking up one of them. Restaurants on the other hand, you catch with their pants down. They're not expecting to get robbed. Not as expectant, anyway.
Honey Bunny: I bet you could cut down on the hero factor in a place like this.
Pumpkin: Correct. Same as banks, these places are insured. Manager? He don't give a ****. He's just trying to get you out the door before you start plugging the diners. Waitresses? ****ing forget it! No way they're taking a bullet for the register. Busboys, some w*****k getting paid a dollar-fifty an hour, really give a **** you're stealing from the owner? Customers are sitting there with food in their mouths, they don't know what's going on. One minute they're having a Denver omelette, next minute somebody's sticking a gun in their face. See, I got the idea, last liquor store we held up, all the customers kept coming in?
Honey Bunny: Yeah.
Pumpkin: And you got the idea of taking their wallets. Now that was a good idea.
Honey Bunny: Thank you.
Pumpkin: Made more from the wallets than we did from the register.
Honey Bunny: Yes, we did.
Pumpkin: A lot of customers come into a restaurant.
Honey Bunny: A lot of wallets.
Pumpkin: Pretty smart, eh?
Honey Bunny: Pretty smart. I'm ready. Let's do it. Right now, right here. Come on.
Pumpkin: [handing gun o Honey Bunny] All right, same as last time, remember? You handle gun control, I'll handle the employees.
[they kiss]
Honey Bunny: I love you, Pumpkin.
Pumpkin: I love you, Honey Bunny. [Stands and brandishes a gun] Everybody be cool, this is a robbery!
Honey Bunny: Any of you ****ing pricks move, and I'll execute every mother****ing last one of you!
Honey Bunny: Did it work?
Pumpkin: ****ing 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 ****ing phone. Cleans the place out, don't even lift a ****ing finger.
Honey Bunny: Did they hurt the little girl?
Pumpkin: I don't know, there probably never was a little girl in the first place. The point of the story isn't the little girl, the point of the story is they robbed a bank with a telephone.
Honey Bunny: You want to rob banks?
Pumpkin: I'm not saying I want to rob banks, I'm just illustrating that if we did, it'd be easier than what we've been doing.
Honey Bunny: No more liquor stores?
Pumpkin: What have we been talking about? Yeah, no more liquor stores. Besides, it ain't the gig it used to be. Too many foreigners own liquor stores. Vietnamese, Koreans, they don't understand ****ing English. You tell them, empty out the register, they don't know what the **** you're talking about. They make it too personal; if we keep on, one of these g**k ****ers is gonna make us kill him.
Honey Bunny: I'm not gonna kill anybody.
Pumpkin: I don't want to kill anybody either. But they'll probably put us in a situation where it's us or them. And if it's not the g**ks, it's these old ****ing Jews who've owned the store for fifteen ****ing generations, you've got Grampa Irving sitting behind the counter with a ****ing Magnum in his hand. Try walking into one of those places with nothing but a phone, see how far you get. **** it; forget it. We're out of it.
Honey Bunny: So what then, day jobs?
Pumpkin: Not in this life.
Honey Bunny: What then?
Pumpkin: Garcon! Coffee! [to Honey Bunny] This place.
Waitress: [arrives with coffee; pours some into Pumpkin and Honey Bunny's mugs] Garcon means "boy". [walks away]
Honey Bunny: This place? A coffee shop?
Pumpkin: Why not? Nobody ever robs restaurants. Bars, liquor stores, gas stations--you get your head blown off sticking up one of them. Restaurants on the other hand, you catch with their pants down. They're not expecting to get robbed. Not as expectant, anyway.
Honey Bunny: I bet you could cut down on the hero factor in a place like this.
Pumpkin: Correct. Same as banks, these places are insured. Manager? He don't give a ****. He's just trying to get you out the door before you start plugging the diners. Waitresses? ****ing forget it! No way they're taking a bullet for the register. Busboys, some w*****k getting paid a dollar-fifty an hour, really give a **** you're stealing from the owner? Customers are sitting there with food in their mouths, they don't know what's going on. One minute they're having a Denver omelette, next minute somebody's sticking a gun in their face. See, I got the idea, last liquor store we held up, all the customers kept coming in?
Honey Bunny: Yeah.
Pumpkin: And you got the idea of taking their wallets. Now that was a good idea.
Honey Bunny: Thank you.
Pumpkin: Made more from the wallets than we did from the register.
Honey Bunny: Yes, we did.
Pumpkin: A lot of customers come into a restaurant.
Honey Bunny: A lot of wallets.
Pumpkin: Pretty smart, eh?
Honey Bunny: Pretty smart. I'm ready. Let's do it. Right now, right here. Come on.
Pumpkin: [handing gun o Honey Bunny] All right, same as last time, remember? You handle gun control, I'll handle the employees.
[they kiss]
Honey Bunny: I love you, Pumpkin.
Pumpkin: I love you, Honey Bunny. [Stands and brandishes a gun] Everybody be cool, this is a robbery!
Honey Bunny: Any of you ****ing pricks move, and I'll execute every mother****ing last one of you!
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Vincent Want some bacon?
Jules No man, I don't eat pork.
Vincent Are you Jewish?
Jules Nah, I ain't Jewish, I just don't dig on swine, that's all.
Vincent Why not?
Jules Pigs are filthy animals. I don't eat filthy animals.
Vincent Yeah, but bacon tastes good. Pork chops taste good.
Jules Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy mother****er. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a filthy animal. I ain't eatin' nothing that ain't got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
Vincent How about a dog? Dog eats its own feces.
Jules I don't eat dog either.
Vincent Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
Jules I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy, but they're definitely dirty. A dog's got personality. Personality goes a long way.
Vincent Ah, so by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, he would cease to be a filthy animal. Is that true?
Jules Well, we'd have to be talkin' about one charming mother****ing pig. I mean, he'd have to be ten times more charming than that Arnold on Green Acres, you know what I'm saying?
Vincent: [laughing] That's good.
Jules No man, I don't eat pork.
Vincent Are you Jewish?
Jules Nah, I ain't Jewish, I just don't dig on swine, that's all.
Vincent Why not?
Jules Pigs are filthy animals. I don't eat filthy animals.
Vincent Yeah, but bacon tastes good. Pork chops taste good.
Jules Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy mother****er. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a filthy animal. I ain't eatin' nothing that ain't got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
Vincent How about a dog? Dog eats its own feces.
Jules I don't eat dog either.
Vincent Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
Jules I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy, but they're definitely dirty. A dog's got personality. Personality goes a long way.
Vincent Ah, so by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, he would cease to be a filthy animal. Is that true?
Jules Well, we'd have to be talkin' about one charming mother****ing pig. I mean, he'd have to be ten times more charming than that Arnold on Green Acres, you know what I'm saying?
Vincent: [laughing] That's good.
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Vincent: A "please" would be nice.
The Wolf: Come again?
Vincent: I said a "please" would be nice.
The Wolf: Get it straight, Buster. I'm not here to say "please". I'm here to tell you what to do. And if self-preservation is an instinct you possess, you better ****ing do it and do it quick. I'm here to help. If my help's not appreciated, lots of luck, gentlemen.
Jules: No no, Mr. Wolfe, it's not like that. Your help is definitely appreciated.
Vincent: Look, Mr. Wolfe, I respect you. I just don't like people barking orders at me, that's all.
The Wolf: If I'm curt with you, it's because time is a factor. I think fast, I talk fast, and I need you two guys to act fast if you want to get out of this. So pretty please, with sugar on top, clean the ****ing car.
The Wolf: Come again?
Vincent: I said a "please" would be nice.
The Wolf: Get it straight, Buster. I'm not here to say "please". I'm here to tell you what to do. And if self-preservation is an instinct you possess, you better ****ing do it and do it quick. I'm here to help. If my help's not appreciated, lots of luck, gentlemen.
Jules: No no, Mr. Wolfe, it's not like that. Your help is definitely appreciated.
Vincent: Look, Mr. Wolfe, I respect you. I just don't like people barking orders at me, that's all.
The Wolf: If I'm curt with you, it's because time is a factor. I think fast, I talk fast, and I need you two guys to act fast if you want to get out of this. So pretty please, with sugar on top, clean the ****ing car.
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Vincent: Remember, I just got back from Amsterdam.
Lance: Am I a ****? 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 ****ing week.
Vincent: That's a bold statement.
Lance: This ain't Amsterdam, Vince. This is a sellers market. Coke is ****ing dead as ... dead. Heroin, it's coming back in a big ****ing way.
Lance: Am I a ****? 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 ****ing week.
Vincent: That's a bold statement.
Lance: This ain't Amsterdam, Vince. This is a sellers market. Coke is ****ing dead as ... dead. Heroin, it's coming back in a big ****ing way.
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Zed: Bring out the Gimp.
Maynard: But the Gimp's sleeping.
Zed: Well, I guess you just have to go wake him up now, won't you?
Maynard: But the Gimp's sleeping.
Zed: Well, I guess you just have to go wake him up now, won't you?
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[Vincent and Jules walk into the apartment. They don't look happy]
Jules: Hey kids, how you boys doing?
[One starts to get up]
Jules: Keep chilling. You know who we are? We are associates of your business partner Marsellus Wallace. You do remember your business partner, don't 'cha?
[Nervous silence]
Jules: Now let me take a wild guess here. [Points at a young man sitting at a table eating breakfast] You're Brett, right?
Brett: Yeah.
Jules: I thought so. You remember your business partner Marsellus Wallace, don't 'cha, Brett?
[Vincent walks behind Brett into the kitchen]
Brett: Yeah, I-I remember.
Jules: Good. It looks like me and Vincent caught you boys at breakfast. Sorry about that. What 'cha having?
Brett: Hamburgers.
Jules: Hamburgers! The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast. What kinda hamburgers?
Brett: Uh, ch-cheeseburgers.
Jules: No, no-no-no-no, where'd you get them? McDonald's, Wendy's, Jack-in-the-Box, where?
Brett: Um, Big Kahuna Burger.
Jules: Big Kahuna Burger! That's that Hawaiian burger joint. I hear they got some tasty burgers. Ain't never had one myself. How are they?
Brett: Th-they're good.
Jules: You mind if I try one of yours?
[They shake their heads]
Jules: This is yours here, right?
[Jules picks up a cheeseburger and takes a bite]
Jules: Mm-hmm! This is a tasty burger! Vincent! You ever had a Big Kahuna burger?
[Vincent shakes his head]
Jules: Want a bite? They're real tasty.
Vincent: Ain't hungry.
Jules: Well, if you like burgers, give them a try sometime. Me, I can't usually get them 'cause my girlfriend's a vegetarian, which pretty much makes me a vegetarian. I do love the taste of a good burger. Mmm. [To Brett] You know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in France?
Brett: No.
Jules: Tell them, Vincent
Vincent: Royale with Cheese.
Jules: Royale with Cheese. Know why they call it that?
[Brett shrugs]
Brett: Uh, because of the metric system?
Jules: Check out the big brain on Brett! You're a smart mother****er. That's right. The metric system.
[Jules tosses the burger down on the table. He points at a plastic cup]
Jules: What's in this?
Brett: Sprite.
Jules: Sprite, good. Do you mind if I have some of your tasty beverage to wash this down?
Brett: Go right ahead.
[Jules picks up the Sprite and drinks it]
Jules: Ah. That hit the spot.
[Jules points at the other guy on the couch]
Jules: You, Flock-of-Seagulls, know why we're here? Why don't you tell my man Vince were you got the shit hid at?
[The third man, Marvin, behind Jules, in a corner, speaks]
Marvin: It's over there--
Jules: [shouting]: I don't remember asking you a god damn thing! [to Flock-of-Seagulls] You were saying?
Flock-of-Seagulls: In the cupboard. [Vincent looks in an overhead cupboard] N-no, the one by your knees.
[Vincent pulls out a black briefcase, unlocks it, and looks at the glowing light inside]
Jules: We happy? [no answer] Vincent? Are we happy?
Vincent: Yeah, we happy. Fff.
Brett: [to Jules] Look, I'm sorry, I didn't get your name. I got yours, uh, Vincent, right? But I--I didn't get yours.
Jules: My name is Pitt, and your ass ain't talking your way outta this shit.
Brett: [rising]: No, no, no. I just want you to know how-- [Jules motions him to sit down] I just want you to know how sorry we are that that things got so ****ed up with us and Mr. Wallace. It, we-we got into this thing with the best intentions. I never inte--
[Jules shoots Flock-of-Seagulls, Brett recoils in horror]
Jules: Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration? I didn't mean to do that. Please, continue. You were sayin' something about "best intentions"? What's the matter? Oh, y-you were finished? Oh, well allow me to retort!
[Jules looks pretty upset]
Jules: What does Marsellus Wallace look like?
Brett: What?
Jules: What country are you from?
Brett: What?
Jules: "What" ain't no country I ever heard of! They speak English in "What"?!
Brett: What?
Jules: English, mother****er! Do you speak it?!
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Then you know what I'm saying. Describe, what Marsellus Wallace, looks like!
Brett: What?
Jules: [points gun at Brett] Say "what" again! Say "what" again. I dare you! I double-dare you, mother****er! Say "what" one more god damn time!
Brett: He-he's black.
Jules: Go on!
Brett: He's bald.
Jules: Does he look like a bitch?
Brett: What?!
Jules: [shoots Brett in the shoulder, Brett screams] Does...he...look...like a bitch?!
Brett: [in pain] No-o!!
Jules: Then why'd you try to **** him like a bitch, Brett?
Brett: I didn't!
Jules: Yes, you did! Yes, you did, Brett! You tried to **** him, and Marsellus Wallace don't like to be ****ed by anybody, except Mrs. Wallace. You read the Bible, Brett?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Well, there's this passage I've got memorized that sort of fits this occasion. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of the evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and goodwill, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. [Says it louder] And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. [Says it even louder] And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee!"[1]
[Shoots Brett repeatedly, emptying his handgun into him as Vincent fires along with his handgun]
Jules: Hey kids, how you boys doing?
[One starts to get up]
Jules: Keep chilling. You know who we are? We are associates of your business partner Marsellus Wallace. You do remember your business partner, don't 'cha?
[Nervous silence]
Jules: Now let me take a wild guess here. [Points at a young man sitting at a table eating breakfast] You're Brett, right?
Brett: Yeah.
Jules: I thought so. You remember your business partner Marsellus Wallace, don't 'cha, Brett?
[Vincent walks behind Brett into the kitchen]
Brett: Yeah, I-I remember.
Jules: Good. It looks like me and Vincent caught you boys at breakfast. Sorry about that. What 'cha having?
Brett: Hamburgers.
Jules: Hamburgers! The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast. What kinda hamburgers?
Brett: Uh, ch-cheeseburgers.
Jules: No, no-no-no-no, where'd you get them? McDonald's, Wendy's, Jack-in-the-Box, where?
Brett: Um, Big Kahuna Burger.
Jules: Big Kahuna Burger! That's that Hawaiian burger joint. I hear they got some tasty burgers. Ain't never had one myself. How are they?
Brett: Th-they're good.
Jules: You mind if I try one of yours?
[They shake their heads]
Jules: This is yours here, right?
[Jules picks up a cheeseburger and takes a bite]
Jules: Mm-hmm! This is a tasty burger! Vincent! You ever had a Big Kahuna burger?
[Vincent shakes his head]
Jules: Want a bite? They're real tasty.
Vincent: Ain't hungry.
Jules: Well, if you like burgers, give them a try sometime. Me, I can't usually get them 'cause my girlfriend's a vegetarian, which pretty much makes me a vegetarian. I do love the taste of a good burger. Mmm. [To Brett] You know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in France?
Brett: No.
Jules: Tell them, Vincent
Vincent: Royale with Cheese.
Jules: Royale with Cheese. Know why they call it that?
[Brett shrugs]
Brett: Uh, because of the metric system?
Jules: Check out the big brain on Brett! You're a smart mother****er. That's right. The metric system.
[Jules tosses the burger down on the table. He points at a plastic cup]
Jules: What's in this?
Brett: Sprite.
Jules: Sprite, good. Do you mind if I have some of your tasty beverage to wash this down?
Brett: Go right ahead.
[Jules picks up the Sprite and drinks it]
Jules: Ah. That hit the spot.
[Jules points at the other guy on the couch]
Jules: You, Flock-of-Seagulls, know why we're here? Why don't you tell my man Vince were you got the shit hid at?
[The third man, Marvin, behind Jules, in a corner, speaks]
Marvin: It's over there--
Jules: [shouting]: I don't remember asking you a god damn thing! [to Flock-of-Seagulls] You were saying?
Flock-of-Seagulls: In the cupboard. [Vincent looks in an overhead cupboard] N-no, the one by your knees.
[Vincent pulls out a black briefcase, unlocks it, and looks at the glowing light inside]
Jules: We happy? [no answer] Vincent? Are we happy?
Vincent: Yeah, we happy. Fff.
Brett: [to Jules] Look, I'm sorry, I didn't get your name. I got yours, uh, Vincent, right? But I--I didn't get yours.
Jules: My name is Pitt, and your ass ain't talking your way outta this shit.
Brett: [rising]: No, no, no. I just want you to know how-- [Jules motions him to sit down] I just want you to know how sorry we are that that things got so ****ed up with us and Mr. Wallace. It, we-we got into this thing with the best intentions. I never inte--
[Jules shoots Flock-of-Seagulls, Brett recoils in horror]
Jules: Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration? I didn't mean to do that. Please, continue. You were sayin' something about "best intentions"? What's the matter? Oh, y-you were finished? Oh, well allow me to retort!
[Jules looks pretty upset]
Jules: What does Marsellus Wallace look like?
Brett: What?
Jules: What country are you from?
Brett: What?
Jules: "What" ain't no country I ever heard of! They speak English in "What"?!
Brett: What?
Jules: English, mother****er! Do you speak it?!
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Then you know what I'm saying. Describe, what Marsellus Wallace, looks like!
Brett: What?
Jules: [points gun at Brett] Say "what" again! Say "what" again. I dare you! I double-dare you, mother****er! Say "what" one more god damn time!
Brett: He-he's black.
Jules: Go on!
Brett: He's bald.
Jules: Does he look like a bitch?
Brett: What?!
Jules: [shoots Brett in the shoulder, Brett screams] Does...he...look...like a bitch?!
Brett: [in pain] No-o!!
Jules: Then why'd you try to **** him like a bitch, Brett?
Brett: I didn't!
Jules: Yes, you did! Yes, you did, Brett! You tried to **** him, and Marsellus Wallace don't like to be ****ed by anybody, except Mrs. Wallace. You read the Bible, Brett?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Well, there's this passage I've got memorized that sort of fits this occasion. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of the evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and goodwill, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. [Says it louder] And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. [Says it even louder] And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee!"[1]
[Shoots Brett repeatedly, emptying his handgun into him as Vincent fires along with his handgun]
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A "please" would be nice.
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Ain't no ****ing ball park neither! Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but you know touching his wife's feet and sticking your tongue in the holiest of holies ain't the same ****ing ball park. It ain't the same league. It ain't even the same ****ing sport! Look, foot massages don't mean shit!
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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!
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↑ a b The passage is actually from the title scroll of the 1970s martial-arts film Karate Kiba. It is indeed partly based on Ezekiel 25:17 – "And I will execute great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes; and they shall know that I am the LORD, when I shall lay my vengeance upon them" – but where the bit about the shepherd and the tyranny of evil men comes from is unknown.
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↑ The actual name, according to McDonald's France's website (following menus within the Flash application, "Dans vos restos" → "La carte" → "Bœuf"), is "Royal Cheese". It is spelled "Royale" here to convey the French pronunciation.
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Chill out, man, I told you it was an accident. We probably went over a bump or something.