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Pulp Fiction
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PULP [pulp] n. | |
1. A soft, moist, shapeless mass or matter. | |
2. A magazine or book containing lurid subject matter and | |
being characteristically printed on rough, unfinished paper. | |
American Heritage Dictionary: New College Edition | |
INT. COFFEE SHOP – MORNING | |
A normal Denny's, Spires-like coffee shop in Los Angeles. | |
It's about 9:00 in the morning. While the place isn't jammed, | |
there's a healthy number of people drinking coffee, munching | |
on bacon and eating eggs. | |
Two of these people are a YOUNG MAN and a YOUNG WOMAN. The | |
Young Man has a slight working-class English accent and, | |
like his fellow countryman, smokes cigarettes like they're | |
going out of style. | |
It is impossible to tell where the Young Woman is from or | |
how old she is; everything she does contradicts something | |
she did. The boy and girl sit in a booth. Their dialogue is | |
to be said in a rapid pace "HIS GIRL FRIDAY" fashion. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
No, forget it, it's too risky. I'm | |
through doin' that shit. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
You always say that, the same thing | |
every time: never again, I'm through, | |
too dangerous. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
I know that's what I always say. I'm | |
always right too, but – | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
– but you forget about it in a day | |
or two - | |
YOUNG MAN | |
– yeah, well, the days of me | |
forgittin' are over, and the days of | |
me rememberin' have just begun. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
When you go on like this, you know | |
what you sound like? | |
YOUNG MAN | |
I sound like a sensible fucking man, | |
is what I sound like. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
You sound like a duck. | |
(imitates a duck) | |
Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, | |
quack, quack... | |
YOUNG MAN | |
Well take heart, 'cause you're never | |
gonna hafta hear it again. Because | |
since I'm never gonna do it again, | |
you're never gonna hafta hear me | |
quack about how I'm never gonna do | |
it again. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
After tonight. | |
The boy and girl laugh, their laughter putting a pause in | |
there, back and forth. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
(with a smile) | |
Correct. I got all tonight to quack. | |
A WAITRESS comes by with a pot of coffee. | |
WAITRESS | |
Can I get anybody anymore coffee? | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
Oh yes, thank you. | |
The Waitress pours the Young Woman's coffee. The Young Man | |
lights up another cigarette. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
I'm doin' fine. | |
The Waitress leaves. The Young Man takes a drag off of his | |
smoke. | |
The Young Woman pours a ton of cream and sugar into her | |
coffee. | |
The Young Man goes right back into it. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
I mean the way it is now, you're | |
takin' the same fuckin' risk as when | |
you rob a bank. You take more of a | |
risk. Banks are easier! Federal | |
banks aren't supposed to stop you | |
anyway, during a robbery. They're | |
insured, why should they care? You | |
don't even need a gun in a federal | |
bank. I heard about this guy, walked | |
into a federal bank with a portable | |
phone, handed the phone to the teller, | |
the guy on the other end of the phone | |
said: "We got this guy's little girl, | |
and if you don't give him all your | |
money, we're gonna kill 'er." | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
Did it work? | |
YOUNG MAN | |
Fuckin' A it worked, that's what I'm | |
talkin' about! Knucklehead walks in | |
a bank with a telephone, not a pistol, | |
not a shotgun, but a fuckin' phone, | |
cleans the place out, and they don't | |
lift a fuckin' finger. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
Did they hurt the little girl? | |
YOUNG MAN | |
I don't know. There probably never | |
was a little girl – the point of the | |
story isn't the little girl. The | |
point of the story is they robbed | |
the bank with a telephone. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
You wanna rob banks? | |
YOUNG MAN | |
I'm not sayin' I wanna rob banks, | |
I'm just illustrating that if we | |
did, it would be easier than what we | |
been doin'. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
So you don't want to be a bank robber? | |
YOUNG MAN | |
Naw, all those guys are goin' down | |
the same road, either dead or servin' | |
twenty. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
And no more liquor stores? | |
YOUNG MAN | |
What have we been talking about? | |
Yeah, no more-liquor-stores. Besides, | |
it ain't the giggle it usta be. Too | |
many foreigners own liquor stores. | |
Vietnamese, Koreans, they can't | |
fuckin' speak English. You tell 'em: | |
"Empty out the register," and they | |
don't know what it fuckin' means. | |
They make it too personal. We keep | |
on, one of those gook motherfuckers' | |
gonna make us kill 'em. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
I'm not gonna kill anybody. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
I don't wanna kill anybody either. | |
But they'll probably put us in a | |
situation where it's us of them. And | |
if it's not the gooks, it these old | |
Jews who've owned the store for | |
fifteen fuckin' generations. Ya got | |
Grandpa Irving sittin' behind the | |
counter with a fuckin' Magnum. Try | |
walkin' into one of those stores | |
with nothin' but a telephone, see | |
how far it gets you. Fuck it, forget | |
it, we're out of it. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
Well, what else is there, day jobs? | |
YOUNG MAN | |
(laughing) | |
Not this life. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
Well what then? | |
He calls to the Waitress. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
Garcon! Coffee! | |
Then looks to his girl. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
This place. | |
The Waitress comes by, pouring him some more. | |
WAITRESS | |
(snotty) | |
"Garcon" means boy. | |
She splits. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
Here? It's a coffee shop. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
What's wrong with that? People never | |
rob restaurants, why not? Bars, liquor | |
stores, gas stations, you get your | |
head blown off stickin' up one of | |
them. Restaurants, on the other hand, | |
you catch with their pants down. | |
They're not expecting to get robbed, | |
or not as expecting. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
(taking to idea) | |
I bet in places like this you could | |
cut down on the hero factor. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
Correct. Just like banks, these places | |
are insured. The managers don't give | |
a fuck, they're just tryin' to get | |
ya out the door before you start | |
pluggin' diners. Waitresses, forget | |
it, they ain't takin' a bullet for | |
the register. Busboys, some wetback | |
gettin' paid a dollar fifty a hour | |
gonna really give a fuck you're | |
stealin' from the owner. Customers | |
are sittin' there with food in their | |
mouths, they don't know what's goin' | |
on. One minute they're havin' a Denver | |
omelet, next minute somebody's | |
stickin' a gun in their face. | |
The Young Woman visibly takes in the idea. The Young Man | |
continues in a low voice. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
See, I got the idea last liquor store | |
we stuck up. 'Member all those | |
customers kept comin' in? | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
Yeah. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
Then you got the idea to take | |
everybody's wallet. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
Uh-huh. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
That was a good idea. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
Thanks. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
We made more from the wallets then | |
we did the register. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
Yes we did. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
A lot of people go to restaurants. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
A lot of wallets. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
Pretty smart, huh? | |
The Young Woman scans the restaurant with this new | |
information. | |
She sees all the PATRONS eating, lost in conversations. The | |
tired WAITRESS, taking orders. The BUSBOYS going through the | |
motions, collecting dishes. The MANAGER complaining to the | |
COOK about something. A smiles breaks out on the Young Woman's | |
face. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
Pretty smart. | |
(into it) | |
I'm ready, let's go, right here, | |
right now. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
Remember, same as before, you're | |
crowd control, I handle the employees. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
Got it. | |
They both take out their .32-caliber pistols and lay them on | |
the table. He looks at her and she back at him. | |
YOUNG WOMAN | |
I love you, Pumpkin. | |
YOUNG MAN | |
I love you, Honey Bunny. | |
And with that, Pumpkin and Honey Bunny grab their weapons, | |
stand up and rob the restaurant. Pumpkin's robbery persona | |
is that of the in-control professional. Honey Bunny's is | |
that of the psychopathic, hair-triggered, loose cannon. | |
PUMPKIN | |
(yelling to all) | |
Everybody be cool this is a robbery! | |
HONEY BUNNY | |
Any of you fuckin' pricks move and | |
I'll execute every one of you | |
motherfuckers! Got that? | |
CUT TO: | |
CREDIT SEQUENCE: | |
"PULP FICTION" | |
INT. '74 CHEVY (MOVING) – MORNING | |
An old gas guzzling, dirty, white 1974 Chevy Nova BARRELS | |
down a homeless-ridden street in Hollywood. In the front | |
seat are two young fellas – one white, one black – both | |
wearing cheap black suits with thin black ties under long | |
green dusters. Their names are VINCENT VEGA (white) and JULES | |
WINNFIELD (black). Jules is behind the wheel. | |
JULES | |
– Okay now, tell me about the hash | |
bars? | |
VINCENT | |
What so you want to know? | |
JULES | |
Well, hash is legal there, right? | |
VINCENT | |
Yeah, it's legal, but is ain't a | |
hundred percent legal. I mean you | |
can't walk into a restaurant, roll a | |
joint, and start puffin' away. You're | |
only supposed to smoke in your home | |
or certain designated places. | |
JULES | |
Those are hash bars? | |
VINCENT | |
Yeah, 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, which doesn't | |
really matter 'cause – get a load of | |
this – if the cops stop you, it's | |
illegal for this to search you. | |
Searching you is a right that the | |
cops in Amsterdam don't have. | |
JULES | |
That did it, man – I'm fuckin' goin', | |
that's all there is to it. | |
VINCENT | |
You'll dig it the most. But you know | |
what the funniest thing about Europe | |
is? | |
JULES | |
What? | |
VINCENT | |
It's the little differences. A lotta | |
the same shit we got here, they got | |
there, but there they're a little | |
different. | |
JULES | |
Examples? | |
VINCENT | |
Well, in Amsterdam, you can buy beer | |
in a movie theatre. And I don't mean | |
in a paper cup either. They give you | |
a glass of beer, like in a bar. In | |
Paris, you can buy beer at | |
MacDonald's. Also, you know what | |
they call a Quarter Pounder with | |
Cheese in Paris? | |
JULES | |
They don't call it a Quarter Pounder | |
with Cheese? | |
VINCENT | |
No, they got the metric system there, | |
they wouldn't know what the fuck a | |
Quarter Pounder is. | |
JULES | |
What'd they call it? | |
VINCENT | |
Royale with Cheese. | |
JULES | |
(repeating) | |
Royale with Cheese. What'd they call | |
a Big Mac? | |
VINCENT | |
Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call | |
it Le Big Mac. | |
JULES | |
Le Big Mac. What do they call a | |
Whopper? | |
VINCENT | |
I dunno, I didn't go into a Burger | |
King. But you know what they put on | |
french fries in Holland instead of | |
ketchup? | |
JULES | |
What? | |
VINCENT | |
Mayonnaise. | |
JULES | |
Goddamn! | |
VINCENT | |
I seen 'em do it. And I don't mean a | |
little bit on the side of the plate, | |
they fuckin' drown 'em in it. | |
JULES | |
Uuccch! | |
CUT TO: | |
INT. CHEVY (TRUNK) – MORNING | |
The trunk of the Chevy OPENS UP, Jules and Vincent reach | |
inside, taking out two .45 Automatics, loading and cocking | |
them. | |
JULES | |
We should have shotguns for this | |
kind of deal. | |
VINCENT | |
How many up there? | |
JULES | |
Three or four. | |
VINCENT | |
Counting our guy? | |
JULES | |
I'm not sure. | |
VINCENT | |
So there could be five guys up there? | |
JULES | |
It's possible. | |
VINCENT | |
We should have fuckin' shotguns. | |
They CLOSE the trunk. | |
CUT TO: | |
EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING COURTYARD – MORNING | |
Vincent and Jules, their long matching overcoats practically | |
dragging on the ground, walk through the courtyard of what | |
looks like a hacienda-style Hollywood apartment building. | |
We TRACK alongside. | |
VINCENT | |
What's her name? | |
JULES | |
Mia. | |
VINCENT | |
How did Marsellus and her meet? | |
JULES | |
I dunno, however people meet people. | |
She usta be an actress. | |
VINCENT | |
She ever do anything I woulda saw? | |
JULES | |
I think her biggest deal was she | |
starred in a pilot. | |
VINCENT | |
What's a pilot? | |
JULES | |
Well, you know the shows on TV? | |
VINCENT | |
I don't watch TV. | |
JULES | |
Yes, but you're aware that there's | |
an invention called television, and | |
on that invention they show shows? | |
VINCENT | |
Yeah. | |
JULES | |
Well, the way they pick the shows on | |
TV is they make one show, and that | |
show's called a pilot. And they show | |
that one show to the people who pick | |
the shows, and on the strength of | |
that one show, they decide if they | |
want to make more shows. Some get | |
accepted and become TV programs, and | |
some don't, and become nothing. She | |
starred in one of the ones that became | |
nothing. | |
They enter the apartment building. | |
INT. RECEPTION AREA (APARTMENT BUILDING) – MORNING | |
Vincent and Jules walk through the reception area and wait | |
for the elevator. | |
JULES | |
You remember Antwan Rockamora? Half- | |
black, half-Samoan, usta call him | |
Tony Rocky Horror. | |
VINCENT | |
Yeah maybe, fat right? | |
JULES | |
I wouldn't go so far as to call the | |
brother fat. He's got a weight | |
problem. What's the nigger gonna | |
do, he's Samoan. | |
VINCENT | |
I think I know who you mean, what | |
about him? | |
JULES | |
Well, Marsellus fucked his ass up | |
good. And word around the campfire, | |
it was on account of Marsellus | |
Wallace's wife. | |
The elevator arrives, the men step inside. | |
INT. ELEVATOR – MORNING | |
VINCENT | |
What'd he do, fuck her? | |
JULES | |
No no no no no no no, nothin' that | |
bad. | |
VINCENT | |
Well what then? | |
JULES | |
He gave her a foot massage. | |
VINCENT | |
A foot massage? | |
Jules nods his head: "Yes." | |
VINCENT | |
That's all? | |
Jules nods his head: "Yes." | |
VINCENT | |
What did Marsellus do? | |
JULES | |
Sent a couple of guys over to his | |
place. They took him out on the | |
patio of his apartment, threw his | |
ass over the balcony. Nigger fell | |
four stories. They had this garden | |
at the bottom, enclosed in glass, | |
like one of them greenhouses – nigger | |
fell through that. Since then, he's | |
kinda developed a speech impediment. | |
The elevator doors open, Jules and Vincent exit. | |
VINCENT | |
That's a damn shame. | |
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING HALLWAY – MORNING | |
STEADICAM in front of Jules and Vincent as they make a beeline | |
down the hall. | |
VINCENT | |
Still I hafta say, play with matches, | |
ya get burned. | |
JULES | |
Whaddya mean? | |
VINCENT | |
You don't be givin' Marsellus | |
Wallace's new bride a foot massage. | |
JULES | |
You don't think he overreacted? | |
VINCENT | |
Antwan probably didn't expect | |
Marsellus to react like he did, but | |
he had to expect a reaction. | |
JULES | |
It was a foot massage, a foot massage | |
is nothing, I give my mother a foot | |
massage. | |
VINCENT | |
It's laying hands on Marsellus | |
Wallace's new wife in a familiar | |
way. Is it as bad as eatin' her out | |
– no, but you're in the same fuckin' | |
ballpark. | |
Jules stops Vincent. | |
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 | |
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 holyies, ain't the | |
same ballpark, ain't the same league, | |
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 | |
man, I don't tickle or nothin'. | |
VINCENT | |
Have you ever given a guy a foot | |
massage? | |
Jules looks at him a long moment – he's been set up. | |
JULES | |
Fuck you. | |
He starts walking down the hall. Vincent, smiling, walks a | |
little bit behind. | |
VINCENT | |
How many? | |
JULES | |
Fuck you. | |
VINCENT | |
Would you give me a foot massage – | |
I'm kinda tired. | |
JULES | |
Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' | |
pissed – this is the door. | |
The two men stand in front of the door numbered "49." They | |
whisper. | |
JULES | |
What time is it? | |
VINCENT | |
(checking his watch) | |
Seven-twenty-two in the morning. | |
JULES | |
It ain't quite time, let's hang back. | |
They move a little away from the door, facing each other, | |
still whispering. | |
JULES | |
Look, just because 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- | |
motherfuckin-house, fuckin' up the | |
way the nigger talks. That ain't | |
right, man. Motherfucker do that to | |
me, he better paralyze my ass, 'cause | |
I'd kill'a motherfucker. | |
VINCENT | |
I'm not sayin' he was right, but | |
you're sayin' a foot massage don't | |
mean nothing, and I'm sayin' it does. | |
I've given a million ladies a million | |
foot massages and they all meant | |
somethin'. We act like they don't, | |
but they do. That's what's so fuckin' | |
cool about 'em. This sensual thing's | |
goin' on that nobody's talkin about, | |
but you know it and she knows it, | |
fuckin' Marsellus knew it, and Antwan | |
shoulda known fuckin' better. That's | |
his fuckin' wife, man. He ain't gonna | |
have a sense of humor about that | |
shit. | |
JULES | |
That's an interesting point, but | |
let's get into character. | |
VINCENT | |
What's her name again? | |
JULES | |
Mia. Why you so interested in big | |
man's wife? | |
VINCENT | |
Well, Marsellus is leavin' for Florida | |
and when he's gone, he wants me to | |
take care of Mia. | |
JULES | |
Take care of her? | |
Making a gun out of his finger and placing it to his head. | |
VINCENT | |
Not that! Take her out. Show her a | |
good time. Don't let her get lonely. | |
JULES | |
You're gonna be takin' Mia Wallace | |
out on a date? | |
VINCENT | |
It ain't a date. It's like when you | |
and your buddy's wife go to a movie | |
or somethin'. It's just... you know... | |
good company. | |
Jules just looks at him. | |
VINCENT | |
It's not a date. | |
Jules just looks at him. | |
INT. APARTMENT (ROOM 49) – MORNING | |
THREE YOUNG GUYS, obviously in over their heads, sit at a | |
table with hamburgers, french fries and soda pops laid out. | |
One of them flips the LOUD BOLT on the door, opening it to | |
REVEAL Jules and Vincent in the hallway. | |
JULES | |
Hey kids. | |
The two men stroll inside. | |
The three young caught-off-guard Guys are: | |
MARVIN, the black young man, who open the door, will, as the | |
scene progresses, back into the corner. | |
ROGER, a young blond-haired surfer kid with a "Flock of | |
Seagulls" haircut, who has yet to say a word, sits at the | |
table with a big sloppy hamburger in his hand. | |
BRETT, a white, preppy-looking sort with a blow-dry haircut. | |
Vincent and Jules take in the place, with their hands in | |
their pockets. Jules is the one who does the talking. | |
JULES | |
How you boys doin'? | |
No answer. | |
JULES | |
(to Brett) | |
Am I trippin', or did I just ask you | |
a question. | |
BRETT | |
We're doin' okay. | |
As Jules and Brett talk, Vincent moves behind the young Guys. | |
JULES | |
Do you know who we are? | |
Brett shakes his head: "No." | |
JULES | |
We're associates of your business | |
partner Marsellus Wallace, you | |
remember your business partner | |
dont'ya? | |
No answer. | |
JULES | |
(to Brett) | |
Now I'm gonna take a wild guess here: | |
you're Brett, right? | |
BRETT | |
I'm Brett. | |
JULES | |
I thought so. Well, you remember | |
your business partner Marsellus | |
Wallace, dont'ya Brett? | |
BRETT | |
I remember him. | |
JULES | |
Good for you. Looks like me and | |
Vincent caught you at breakfast, | |
sorry 'bout that. What'cha eatin'? | |
BRETT | |
Hamburgers. | |
JULES | |
Hamburgers. The cornerstone of any | |
nutritious breakfast. What kinda | |
hamburgers? | |
BRETT | |
Cheeseburgers. | |
JULES | |
No, I mean where did you get'em? | |
MacDonald's, Wendy's, Jack-in-the- | |
Box, where? | |
BRETT | |
Big Kahuna Burger. | |
JULES | |
Big Kahuna Burger. That's that | |
Hawaiian burger joint. I heard they | |
got some tasty burgers. I ain't never | |
had one myself, how are they? | |
BRETT | |
They're good. | |
JULES | |
Mind if I try one of yours? | |
BRETT | |
No. | |
JULES | |
Yours is this one, right? | |
BRETT | |
Yeah. | |
Jules grabs the burger and take a bite of it. | |
JULES | |
Uuummmm, that's a tasty burger. | |
(to Vincent) | |
Vince, you ever try a Big Kahuna | |
Burger? | |
VINCENT | |
No. | |
Jules holds out the Big Kahuna. | |
JULES | |
You wanna bite, they're real good. | |
VINCENT | |
I ain't hungry. | |
JULES | |
Well, if you like hamburgers give | |
'em a try sometime. Me, I can't | |
usually eat 'em 'cause my girlfriend's | |
a vegetarian. Which more or less | |
makes me a vegetarian, but I sure | |
love the taste of a good burger. | |
(to Brett) | |
You know what they call a Quarter | |
Pounder with Cheese in France? | |
BRETT | |
No. | |
JULES | |
Tell 'em, Vincent. | |
VINCENT | |
Royale with Cheese. | |
JULES | |
Royale with Cheese, you know why | |
they call it that? | |
BRETT | |
Because of the metric system? | |
JULES | |
Check out the big brain on Brett. | |
You'a smart motherfucker, that's | |
right. The metric system. | |
(he points to a fast | |
food drink cup) | |
What's in this? | |
BRETT | |
Sprite. | |
JULES | |
Sprite, good, mind if I have some of | |
your tasty beverage to wash this | |
down with? | |
BRETT | |
Sure. | |
Jules grabs the cup and takes a sip. | |
JULES | |
Uuuuummmm, hit's the spot! | |
(to Roger) | |
You, Flock of Seagulls, you know | |
what we're here for? | |
Roger nods his head: "Yes." | |
JULES | |
Then why don't you tell my boy here | |
Vince, where you got the shit hid. | |
MARVIN | |
It's under the be – | |
JULES | |
– I don't remember askin' you a | |
goddamn thing. | |
(to Roger) | |
You were sayin'? | |
ROGER | |
It's under the bed. | |
Vincent moves to the bed, reaches underneath it, pulling out | |
a black snap briefcase. | |
VINCENT | |
Got it. | |
Vincent flips the two locks, opening the case. We can't see | |
what's inside, but a small glow emits from the case. Vincent | |
just stares at it, transfixed. | |
JULES | |
We happy? | |
No answer from the transfixed Vincent. | |
JULES | |
Vincent! | |
Vincent looks up at Jules. | |
JULES | |
We happy? | |
Closing the case. | |
VINCENT | |
We're happy. | |
BRETT | |
(to Jules) | |
Look, what's your name? I got his | |
name's Vincent, but what's yours? | |
JULES | |
My name's Pitt, and you ain't talkin' | |
your ass outta this shit. | |
BRETT | |
I just want you to know how sorry we | |
are about how fucked up things got | |
between us and Mr. Wallace. When we | |
entered into this thing, we only had | |
the best intentions – | |
As Brett talks, Jules takes out his gun and SHOOTS Roger | |
three times in the chest, BLOWING him out of his chair. | |
Vince smiles to himself. Jules has got style. | |
Brett has just shit his pants. He's not crying or whimpering, | |
but he's so full of fear, it's as if his body is imploding. | |
JULES | |
(to Brett) | |
Oh, I'm sorry. Did that break your | |
concentration? I didn't mean to do | |
that. Please, continue. I believe | |
you were saying something about "best | |
intentions." | |
Brett can't say a word. | |
JULES | |
Whatsamatter? Oh, you were through | |
anyway. Well, let me retort. Would | |
you describe for me what Marsellus | |
Wallace looks like? | |
Brett still can't speak. | |
Jules SNAPS, SAVAGELY TIPPING the card table over, removing | |
the only barrier between himself and Brett. Brett now sits | |
in a lone chair before Jules like a political prisoner in | |
front of an interrogator. | |
JULES | |
What country you from! | |
BRETT | |
(petrified) | |
What? | |
JULES | |
"What" ain't no country I know! Do | |
they speak English in "What?" | |
BRETT | |
(near heart attack) | |
What? | |
JULES | |
English-motherfucker-can-you-speak- | |
it? | |
BRETT | |
Yes. | |
JULES | |
Then you understand what I'm sayin'? | |
BRETT | |
Yes. | |
JULES | |
Now describe what Marsellus Wallace | |
looks like! | |
BRETT | |
(out of fear) | |
What? | |
Jules takes his .45 and PRESSES the barrel HARD in Brett's | |
cheek. | |
JULES | |
Say "What" again! C'mon, say "What" | |
again! I dare ya, I double dare ya | |
motherfucker, say "What" one more | |
goddamn time! | |
Brett is regressing on the spot. | |
JULES | |
Now describe to me what Marsellus | |
Wallace looks like! | |
Brett does his best. | |
BRETT | |
Well he's... he's... black – | |
JULES | |
– go on! | |
BRETT | |
...and he's... he's... bald – | |
JULES | |
– does he look like a bitch?! | |
BRETT | |
(without thinking) | |
What? | |
Jules' eyes go to Vincent, Vincent smirks, Jules rolls his | |
eyes and SHOOT Brett in the shoulder. | |
Brett SCREAMS, breaking into a SHAKING/TREMBLING SPASM in | |
the chair. | |
JULES | |
Does-he-look-like-a-bitch?! | |
BRETT | |
(in agony) | |
No. | |
JULES | |
Then why did you try to fuck 'im | |
like a bitch?! | |
BRETT | |
(in spasm) | |
I didn't. | |
Now in a lower voice. | |
JULES | |
Yes ya did Brett. Ya tried ta fuck | |
'im. You ever read the Bible, Brett? | |
BRETT | |
(in spasm) | |
Yes. | |
JULES | |
There's a passage I got memorized, | |
seems appropriate for this situation: | |
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 you." | |
The two men EMPTY their guns at the same time on the sitting | |
Brett. | |
AGAINST BLACK, TITLE CARD: | |
"VINCENT VEGA AND MARSELLUS WALLACE'S WIFE" | |
FADE IN: | |
MEDIUM SHOT – BUTCH COOLIDGE | |
We FADE UP on BUTCH COOLIDGE, a white, 26-year-old | |
prizefighter. Butch sits at a table wearing a red and blue | |
high school athletic jacket. Talking to him OFF SCREEN is | |
everybody's boss MARSELLUS WALLACE. The black man sounds | |
like a cross between a gangster and a king. | |
MARSELLUS (O.S.) | |
I think you're gonna find – when all | |
this shit is over and done – I think | |
you're gonna find yourself one smilin' | |
motherfucker. Thing is Butch, right | |
now you got ability. But painful as | |
it may be, ability don't last. Now | |
that's a hard motherfuckin' fact of | |
life, but it's a fact of life your | |
ass is gonna hafta git realistic | |
about. This business is filled to | |
the brim with unrealistic | |
motherfuckers who thought their ass | |
aged like wine. Besides, even if | |
you went all the way, what would you | |
be? Feather-weight champion of the | |
world. Who gives a shit? I doubt you | |
can even get a credit card based on | |
that. | |
A hand lays an envelope full of money on the table in front | |
of Butch. Butch picks it up. | |
MARSELLUS (O.S.) | |
Now the night of the fight, you may | |
fell a slight sting, that's pride | |
fuckin' wit ya. Fuck pride! Pride | |
only hurts, it never helps. Fight | |
through that shit. 'Cause a year | |
from now, when you're kickin' it in | |
the Caribbean you're gonna say, | |
"Marsellus Wallace was right." | |
BUTCH | |
I got no problem with that. | |
MARSELLUS (O.S.) | |
In the fifth, your ass goes down. | |
Butch nods his head: "yes." | |
MARSELLUS (O.S.) | |
Say it! | |
BUTCH | |
In the fifth, my ass goes down. | |
CUT TO: | |
INT. CAR (MOVING) – DAY | |
Vincent Vega looks really cool behind the wheel of a 1964 | |
cherry red Chevy Malibu convertible. From the car radio, | |
ROCKABILLY MUSIC PLAYS. The b.g. is a COLORFUL PROCESS SHOT. | |
EXT. SALLY LEROY'S – DAY | |
Sally LeRoy's is a large topless bar by LAX that Marsellus | |
owns. | |
Vincent's classic Malibu WHIPS into the near empty parking | |
lot and parks next to a white Honda Civic. | |
Vince knocks on the door. The front entrance is unlocked, | |
revealing the Dapper Dan fellow on the inside: ENGLISH DAVE. | |
Dave isn't really English, he's a young black man from Baldwin | |
Park, who has run a few clubs for Marsellus, including Sally | |
LeRoy's. | |
ENGLISH DAVE | |
Vincent Vega, our man in Amsterdam, | |
git your ass on in here. | |
Vincent, carrying the black briefcase from the scene between | |
Vincent and Jules, steps inside. English Dave SLAMS the door | |
in our faces. | |
INT. SALLY LEROY'S – DAY | |
The spacious club is empty this time of day. English Dave | |
crosses to the bar, and Vince follows. | |
VINCENT | |
Where's the big man? | |
ENGLISH DAVE | |
He's over there, finishing up some | |
business. | |
VINCENT'S POV: Butch shakes hands with a huge figure with | |
his back to us. The huge figure is the infamous and as of | |
yet still UNSEEN Marsellus. | |
ENGLISH DAVE (O.S.) | |
Hang back for a second or two, and | |
when you see the white boy leave, go | |
on over. In the meanwhile, can I | |
make you an espresso? | |
VINCENT | |
How 'bout a cup of just plain lo' | |
American? | |
ENGLISH DAVE | |
Comin' up. I hear you're taking Mia | |
out tomorrow? | |
VINCENT | |
At Marsellus' request. | |
ENGLISH DAVE | |
Have you met Mia? | |
VINCENT | |
Not yet. | |
English Dave smiles to himself. | |
VINCENT | |
What's so funny? | |
ENGLISH DAVE | |
Not a goddamn thing. | |
VINCENT | |
Look, I'm not a idiot. She's the big | |
man's fuckin' wife. I'm gonna sit | |
across a table, chew my food with my | |
mouth closed, laugh at her jokes and | |
that's all I'm gonna do. | |
English Dave puts Vince's coffee in front of him. | |
ENGLISH DAVE | |
My name's Paul, and this is between | |
y'all. | |
Butch bellies up to the bar next to Vincent, drinking his | |
cup of "Plain ol' American." | |
BUTCH | |
(to English Dave) | |
Can I get a pack'a Red Apples? | |
ENGLISH DAVE | |
Filters? | |
BUTCH | |
Non. | |
While Butch waits for his smokes, Vincent just sips his | |
coffee, staring at him. Butch looks over at him. | |
BUTCH | |
Lookin' at somethin', friend? | |
VINCENT | |
I ain't your friend, palooka. | |
Butch does a slow turn toward Vincent. | |
BUTCH | |
What was that? | |
VINCENT | |
I think ya heard me just fine, punchy. | |
Butch turns his body to Vincent, when... | |
MARSELLUS (O.S.) | |
Vincent Vega has entered the building, | |
git your ass over here! | |
Vincent walks forward OUT OF FRAME, never giving Butch another | |
glance. We DOLLY INTO CU on Butch, left alone in the FRAME, | |
looking like he's ready to go into the manners-teaching | |
business. | |
BUTCH'S POV: Vincent hugging and kissing the obscured figure | |
that is Marsellus. | |
Butch makes the wise decision that is this asshole's a friend | |
of Marsellus, he better let it go – for now. | |
ENGLISH DAVE (O.S.) | |
Pack of Red Apples, dollar-forty. | |
Butch is snapped out of his ass-kicking thoughts. He pays | |
English Dave and walks out of the SHOT. | |
DISSOLVE TO: | |
INT. LANCE'S HOUSE (KITCHEN) – NIGHT | |
CLOSEUP – JODY | |
A woman who appears to have a fondness for earrings. Both of | |
her ears are pierced five times. She also sports rings in | |
her lips, eyebrows and nose. | |
JODY | |
...I'll lend it to you. It's a great | |
book on body piercing. | |
Jody, Vincent and a young woman named TRUDI sit at the kitchen | |
table of a suburban house in Echo Park. Even though Vince is | |
at the same table, he's not included in the conversation. | |
TRUDI | |
You know how they use that gun when | |
they pierce your ears? They don't | |
use that when they pierce your | |
nipples, do they? | |
JODY | |
Forget that gun. That gun goes against | |
the entire idea behind piercing. All | |
of my piercing, sixteen places on my | |
body, every one of 'em done with a | |
needle. Five in each ear. One through | |
the nipple on my left breast. One | |
through my right nostril. One through | |
my left eyebrow. One through my lip. | |
One in my clit. And I wear a stud in | |
my tongue. | |
Vince has been letting this conversation go through one ear | |
and out the other, until that last remark. | |
VINCENT | |
(interrupting) | |
Excuse me, sorry to interrupt. I'm | |
curious, why would you get a stud in | |
your tongue? | |
Jody looks at him and says as if it were the most obvious | |
thing in the world. | |
JODY | |
It's a sex thing. It helps fellatio. | |
That thought never occurred to Vincent, but he can't deny it | |
makes sense. Jody continues talking to Trudi, leaving Vincent | |
to ponder the truth of her statement. | |
LANCE (O.S.) | |
Vince, you can come in now! | |
INT. LANCE'S BEDROOM – NIGHT | |
Lance, late 20s, is a young man with a wild and woolly | |
appearance that goes hand-in-hand with his wild and woolly | |
personality. LANCE has been selling drugs his entire adult | |
life. He's never had a day job, never filed a tax return and | |
has never been arrested. He wears a red flannel shirt over a | |
"Speed Racer" tee-shirt. | |
Three bags of heroin lie on Lance's bed. | |
Lance and Vincent stand at the foot of the bed. | |
LANCE | |
Now this is Panda, from Mexico. Very | |
good stuff. This is Bava, different, | |
but equally good. And this is Choco | |
from the Hartz Mountains of Germany. | |
Now the first two are the same, forty- | |
five an ounce – those are friend | |
prices – but this one... | |
(pointing to the Choco) | |
...this one's a little more expensive. | |
It's fifty-five. But when you shoot | |
it, you'll know where that extra | |
money went. Nothing wrong with the | |
first two. It's real, real, real, | |
good shit. But this one's a fuckin' | |
madman. | |
VINCENT | |
Remember, I just got back from | |
Amsterdam. | |
LANCE | |
Am I a nigger? Are you in Inglewood? | |
No. You're in my house. 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 Amsterdam shit | |
any ol' day of the fuckin' week. | |
VINCENT | |
That's a bold statement. | |
LANCE | |
This ain't Amsterdam, Vince. This is | |
a seller's market. Coke is fuckin' | |
dead as disco. Heroin's comin' back | |
in a big fuckin' way. It's this whole | |
seventies retro. Bell bottoms, heroin, | |
they're as hot as hell. | |
Vincent takes out a roll of money that would choke a horse | |
to death. | |
VINCENT | |
Give me three hundred worth of the | |
madman. If it's as good as you say, | |
I'll be back for a thousand. | |
LANCE | |
I just hope I still have it. Whaddya | |
think of Trudi? She ain't got a | |
boyfriend, wanna hand out an' get | |
high? | |
VINCENT | |
Which one's Trudi? The one with all | |
the shit in her face? | |
LANCE | |
No, that's Jody. That's my wife. | |
Vincent and Lance giggle at the "faux pas." | |
VINCENT | |
I'm on my way somewhere. I got a | |
dinner engagement. Rain check? | |
LANCE | |
No problem? | |
Vincent takes out his case of the works (utensils for shooting | |
up). | |
VINCENT | |
You don't mind if I shoot up here? | |
LANCE | |
Me casa, su casa. | |
VINCENT | |
Mucho gracias. | |
Vincent takes his works out of his case and, as the two | |
continue to talk, Vince shoots up. | |
LANCE | |
Still got your Malibu? | |
VINCENT | |
You know what some fucker did to it | |
the other day? | |
LANCE | |
What? | |
VINCENT | |
Fuckin' keyed it. | |
LANCE | |
Oh man, that's fucked up. | |
VINCENT | |
Tell me about it. I had the goddamn | |
thing in storage three years. It's | |
out five fuckin' days – five days, | |
and some dickless piece of shit fucks | |
with it. | |
LANCE | |
They should be fuckin' killed. No | |
trial, no jury, straight to execution. | |
As he cooks his heroin... | |
VINCENT | |
I just wish I caught 'em doin' it, | |
ya know? Oh man, I'd give anything | |
to catch 'em doin' it. It'a been | |
worth his doin' it, if I coulda just | |
caught 'em, you know what I mean? | |
LANCE | |
It's chicken shit. You don't fuck | |
another man's vehicle. | |
CLOSEUP – THE NEEDLE | |
Going into Vincent's vein. | |
CLOSEUP – BLOOD | |
Spurting back into the syringe, mixing with the heroin. | |
CLOSEUP – VINCENT'S THUMB | |
Pushing down on the plunger. | |
CUT TO: | |
EXT. MARSELLUS WALLACE'S HOUSE – NIGHT | |
Vincent walks toward the house and pulls a note off the door | |
CLOSEUP – NOTE | |
The Note reads: | |
"Hi Vincent, I'm getting dressed. The door's open. Come inside | |
and make yourself a drink. Mia" | |
MIA (V.O.) | |
Hi, Vincent. I'm getting dressed. | |
The door's open. Come inside and | |
make yourself a drink. | |
FADE TO WHITE | |
Music in. | |
FADE TO: | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT | |
Vincent enters on the background. | |
VINCENT | |
Hello? | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT | |
MIA, Marcellus' beautiful young wife. Video screens are in | |
the background. Dusty Springfield is singing "SON OF A | |
PREACHER MAN". | |
Mia's mouth comes toward a microphone. | |
MIA | |
(into microphone) | |
Vincent. | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT | |
Vincent turns. | |
MIA | |
(over intercom) | |
Vincent. I'm on the intercom. | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT | |
MIA | |
(into microphone) | |
It's on the wall by the two African | |
fellas. | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT | |
MIA | |
(over intercom) | |
To your right. | |
Vincent walks. | |
MIA | |
...warm. Warmer. Disco. | |
Vincent finds the intercom on the wall. | |
VINCENT | |
Hello. | |
MIA | |
(over intercom) | |
Push the button if you want to talk. | |
VINCENT | |
(into intercom) | |
Hello. | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT | |
MIA | |
(into microphone) | |
Go make yourself a drink., and I'll | |
be down in two shakes of a lamb's | |
tail. | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT | |
MIA | |
(over intercom) | |
The bar's by the fireplace. | |
VINCENT | |
(into intercom) | |
Okay. | |
(licks lips) | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT | |
A video screen with an image of Vincent, walking. The Dusty | |
Springfield song continues. | |
Mia turns a knob which controls the movement of the video | |
camera in Marcellus' living room. | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT | |
Vincent picks up a bottle of scotch. He sniffs the bottle, | |
and then pours it into a glass. | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT | |
A razor blade cuts cocaine on a mirror. | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT | |
Vincent drinks a glass of scotch. | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT | |
Mia sniffs the cocaine. | |
INT. MARCELLUS' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT | |
Vincent sips the drink and looks at a portrait of Mia on the | |
wall. | |
Mia walks into the room, and takes the needle off a record. | |
The Dusty Springfield song stops. | |
MIA | |
Let's go. | |
EXT. JACKRABBIT SLIM'S – NIGHT | |
In the past six years, 50's diners have sprung up all over | |
L.A., giving Thai restaurants a run for their money. They're | |
all basically the same. Decor out of an "Archie" comic book, | |
Golden Oldies constantly emanating from a bubbly Wurlitzer, | |
saucy waitresses in bobby socks, menus with items like the | |
Fats Domino Cheeseburger, or the Wolfman Jack Omelet, and | |
over prices that pay for all this bullshit. | |
But then there's JACKRABBIT SLIM'S, the big mama of 50's | |
diners. | |
Either the best or the worst, depending on your point of | |
view. | |
Vincent's Malibu pulls up to the restaurant. A big sign with | |
a neon figure of a cartoon surly cool cat jackrabbit in a | |
red windbreaker towers over the establishment. Underneath | |
the cartoon is the name: JACKRABBIT SLIM'S. Underneath that | |
is the slogan: "Next best thing to a time machine." | |
VINCENT | |
What the fuck is this place? | |
MIA | |
This is Jackrabbit Slim's. An Elvis | |
man should love it. | |
VINCENT | |
Come on, Mia, let's go get a steak. | |
MIA | |
You can get a steak here, daddy-o. | |
Don't be a... | |
Mia draws a square with her hands. Dotted lines appear on | |
the screen, forming a sqaure. The lines disperse. | |
VINCENT | |
After you, kitty-cat. | |
INT. JACKRABBIT SLIM'S – NIGHT | |
Compared to the interior, the exterior was that of a quaint | |
English pub. Posters from 50's A.I.P. movies are all over | |
the wall | |
("ROCK ALL NIGHT," "HIGH SCHOOL CONFIDENTIAL," "ATTACK OF | |
THE CRAB MONSTER," and "MACHINE GUN KELLY"). The booths that | |
the patrons sit in are made out of the cut up bodies of 50s | |
cars. | |
In the middle of the restaurant in a dance floor. A big sign | |
on the wall states, "No shoes allowed." Some wannabe beboppers | |
(actually Melrose-types), do the twist in their socks or | |
barefeet. | |
The picture windows don't look out the street, but instead, | |
B & W movies of 50's street scenes play behind them. The | |
WAITRESSES and WAITERS are made up as replicas of 50's icons: | |
MARILYN MONROE, ZORRO, JAMES DEAN, DONNA REED, MARTIN and | |
LEWIS, and THE PHILIP MORRIS MIDGET, wait on tables wearing | |
appropriate costumes. | |
Vincent and Mia study the menu in a booth made out of a red | |
'59 Edsel. BUDDY HOLLY (their waiter), comes over, sporting | |
a big button on his chest that says: "Hi I'm Buddy, pleasing | |
you please me." | |
BUDDY | |
Hi, I'm Buddy, what can I get'cha? | |
VINCENT | |
I'll have the Douglas Sirk steak. | |
BUDDY | |
How d'ya want it, burnt to a crisp, | |
or bloody as hell? | |
VINCENT | |
Bloody as hell. And to drink, a | |
vanilla coke. | |
BUDDY | |
How 'bout you, Peggy Sue? | |
MIA | |
I'll have the Durwood Kirby burger – | |
bloody – and a five-dollar shake. | |
BUDDY | |
How d'ya want that shake, Martin and | |
Lewis, or Amos and Andy? | |
MIA | |
Martin and Lewis. | |
VINCENT | |
Did you just order a five-dollar | |
shake? | |
MIA | |
Sure did. | |
VINCENT | |
A shake? Milk and ice cream? | |
MIA | |
Uh-huh. | |
VINCENT | |
It costs five dollars? | |
BUDDY | |
Yep. | |
VINCENT | |
You don't put bourbon in it or | |
anything? | |
BUDDY | |
Nope. | |
VINCENT | |
Just checking. | |
Buddy exits. | |
Vincent takes a look around the place. The YUPPIES are | |
dancing, the DINERS are biting into big, juicy hamburgers, | |
and the icons are playing their parts. Marilyn is squealing, | |
The Midget is paging Philip Morris, Donna Reed is making her | |
customers drink their milk, and Dean and Jerry are acting a | |
fool. | |
MIA | |
Whaddya think? | |
VINCENT | |
It's like a wax museum with a pulse | |
rate. | |
Vincent takes out his pouch of tobacco and begins rolling | |
himself a smoke. | |
After a second of watching him – | |
MIA | |
What are you doing? | |
VINCENT | |
Rollin' a smoke. | |
MIA | |
Here? | |
VINCENT | |
It's just tobacco. | |
MIA | |
Oh. Well in that case, will you roll | |
me one, cowboy? | |
As he finishes licking it – | |
VINCENT | |
You can have this one, cowgirl. | |
He hands her the rolled smoke. She takes it, putting it to | |
her lips. Out of nowhere appears a Zippo lighter in Vincent's | |
hand. He lights it. | |
MIA | |
Thanks. | |
VINCENT | |
Think nothing of it. | |
He begins rolling one for himself. | |
As this time, the SOUND of a subway car fills the diner, | |
making everything SHAKE and RATTLE. Marilyn Monroe runs to a | |
square vent in the floor. An imaginary subway train BLOWS | |
the skirt of her white dress around her ears as she lets out | |
a squeal. The entire restaurant applauds. | |
Back to Mia and Vincent. | |
MIA | |
Marsellus said you just got back | |
from Amsterdam. | |
VINCENT | |
Sure did. I heard you did a pilot. | |
MIA | |
That was my fifteen minutes. | |
VINCENT | |
What was it? | |
MIA | |
It was show about a team of female | |
secret agents called "Fox Force Five." | |
VINCENT | |
What? | |
MIA | |
"Fox Force Five." Fox, as in we're a | |
bunch of foxy chicks. Force, as in | |
we're a force to be reckoned with. | |
Five, as in there's one... two ... | |
three... four... five of us. There | |
was a blonde one, Sommerset O'Neal | |
from that show "Baton Rouge," she | |
was the leader. A Japanese one, a | |
black one, a French one and a brunette | |
one, me. We all had special skills. | |
Sommerset had a photographic memory, | |
the Japanese fox was a kung fu master, | |
the black girl was a demolition | |
expert, the French fox' specialty | |
was sex... | |
VINCENT | |
What was your specialty? | |
MIA | |
Knives. The character I played, Raven | |
McCoy, her background was she was | |
raised by circus performers. So she | |
grew up doing a knife act. According | |
to the show, she was the deadliest | |
woman in the world with a knife. But | |
because she grew up in a circus, she | |
was also something of an acrobat. | |
She could do illusions, she was a | |
trapeze artist – when you're keeping | |
the world safe from evil, you never | |
know when being a trapeze artist's | |
gonna come in handy. And she knew a | |
zillion old jokes her grandfather, | |
an old vaudevillian, taught her. If | |
we woulda got picked up, they woulda | |
worked in a gimmick where every | |
episode I woulda told and ol joke. | |
VINCENT | |
Do you remember any of the jokes? | |
MIA | |
Well I only got the chance to say | |
one, 'cause we only did one show. | |
VINCENT | |
Tell me. | |
MIA | |
No. It's really corny. | |
VINCENT | |
C'mon, don't be that way. | |
MIA | |
No. You won't like it and I'll be | |
embarrassed. | |
VINCENT | |
You told it in front of fifty million | |
people and you can't tell it to me? | |
I promise I won't laugh. | |
MIA | |
(laughing) | |
That's what I'm afraid of. | |
VINCENT | |
That's not what I meant and you know | |
it. | |
MIA | |
You're quite the silver tongue devil, | |
aren't you? | |
VINCENT | |
I meant I wouldn't laugh at you. | |
MIA | |
That's not what you said Vince. Well | |
now I'm definitely not gonna tell | |
ya, 'cause it's been built up too | |
much. | |
VINCENT | |
What a gyp. | |
Buddy comes back with the drinks. Mia wraps her lips around | |
the straw of her shake. | |
MIA | |
Yummy! | |
VINCENT | |
Can I have a sip of that? I'd like | |
to know what a five-dollar shake | |
tastes like. | |
MIA | |
Be my guest. | |
She slides the shake over to him. | |
MIA | |
You can use my straw, I don't have | |
kooties. | |
Vincent smiles. | |
VINCENT | |
Yeah, but maybe I do. | |
MIA | |
Kooties I can handle. | |
He takes a sip. | |
VINCENT | |
Goddamn! That's a pretty fuckin' | |
good milk shake. | |
MIA | |
Told ya. | |
VINCENT | |
I don't know if it's worth five | |
dollars, but it's pretty fuckin' | |
good. | |
He slides the shake back. | |
Then the first of an uncomfortable silence happens. | |
MIA | |
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. | |
MIA | |
That's when you know you found | |
somebody special. When you can just | |
shit the fuck up for a minute, and | |
comfortably share silence. | |
VINCENT | |
I don't think we're there yet. But | |
don't feel bad, we just met each | |
other. | |
MIA | |
Well I'll tell you what, I'll go to | |
the bathroom and powder my nose, | |
while you sit here and think of | |
something to say. | |
VINCENT | |
I'll do that. | |
INT. JACKRABBIT SLIM'S (LADIES ROOM) – NIGHT | |
Mia powders her nose by doing a big line of coke off the | |
bathroom sink. Her head jerks up from the rush. | |
MIA | |
(imitating Steppenwolf) | |
I said goddamn! | |
INT. JACKRABBIT SLIM'S (DINING AREA) – NIGHT | |
Vincent digs into his Douglas Sirk steak. As he chews, his | |
eyes scan the Hellsapopinish restaurant. | |
Mia comes back to the table. | |
MIA | |
Don't you love it when you go to the | |
bathroom and you come back to find | |
your food waiting for you? | |
VINCENT | |
We're lucky we got it at all. Buddy | |
Holly doesn't seem to be much of a | |
waiter. We shoulda sat in Marilyn | |
Monroe's section. | |
MIA | |
Which one, there's two Marilyn | |
Monroes. | |
VINCENT | |
No there's not. | |
Pointing at Marilyn in the white dress serving a table. | |
VINCENT | |
That's Marilyn Monroe... | |
Then, pointing at a BLONDE WAITRESS in a tight sweater and | |
capri pants, taking an order from a bunch of FILM GEEKS – | |
VINCENT | |
... and that's Mamie Van Doren. I | |
don't see Jayne Mansfield, so it | |
must be her night off. | |
MIA | |
Pretty smart. | |
VINCENT | |
I have moments. | |
MIA | |
Did ya think of something to say? | |
VINCENT | |
Actually, there's something I've | |
wanted to ask you about, but you | |
seem like a nice person, and I didn't | |
want to offend you. | |
MIA | |
Oooohhhh, this doesn't sound like | |
mindless, boring, getting-to-know- | |
you chit-chat. This sounds like you | |
actually have something to say. | |
VINCENT | |
Only if you promise not to get | |
offended. | |
MIA | |
You can't promise something like | |
that. I have no idea what you're | |
gonna ask. You could ask me what | |
you're gonna ask me, and my natural | |
response could be to be offended. | |
Then, through no fault of my own, I | |
woulda broken my promise. | |
VINCENT | |
Then let's just forget it. | |
MIA | |
That is an impossibility. Trying to | |
forget anything as intriguing as | |
this would be an exercise in futility. | |
VINCENT | |
Is that a fact? | |
Mia nods her head: "Yes." | |
MIA | |
Besides, it's more exciting when you | |
don't have permission. | |
VINCENT | |
What do you think about what happened | |
to Antwan? | |
MIA | |
Who's Antwan? | |
VINCENT | |
Tony Rocky Horror. | |
MIA | |
He fell out of a window. | |
VINCENT | |
That's one way to say it. Another | |
way is, he was thrown out. Another | |
was is, he was thrown out by | |
Marsellus. And even another way is, | |
he was thrown out of a window by | |
Marsellus because of you. | |
MIA | |
Is that a fact? | |
VINCENT | |
No it's not, it's just what I heard. | |
MIA | |
Who told you this? | |
VINCENT | |
They. | |
Mia and Vincent smile. | |
MIA | |
They talk a lot, don't they? | |
VINCENT | |
They certainly do. | |
MIA | |
Well don't by shy Vincent, what | |
exactly did they say? | |
Vincent is slow to answer. | |
MIA | |
Let me help you Bashful, did it | |
involve the F-word? | |
VINCENT | |
No. They just said Rocky Horror gave | |
you a foot massage. | |
MIA | |
And...? | |
VINCENT | |
No and, that's it. | |
MIA | |
You heard Marsellus threw Rocky Horror | |
out of a four-story window because | |
he massaged my feet? | |
VINCENT | |
Yeah. | |
MIA | |
And you believed that? | |
VINCENT | |
At the time I was told, it seemed | |
reasonable. | |
MIA | |
Marsellus throwing Tony out of a | |
four story window for giving me a | |
foot massage seemed reasonable? | |
VINCENT | |
No, it seemed excessive. But that | |
doesn't mean it didn't happen. I | |
heard Marsellus is very protective | |
of you. | |
MIA | |
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. | |
VINCENT | |
But did it happen? | |
MIA | |
The only thing Antwan ever touched | |
of mine was my hand, when he shook | |
it. I met Anwan once – at my wedding | |
– then never again. The truth is, | |
nobody knows why Marsellus tossed | |
Tony Rocky Horror out of that window | |
except Marsellus and Tony Rocky | |
Horror. But when you scamps get | |
together, you're worse than a sewing | |
circle. | |
CUT TO: | |
ED SULLIVAN AND MARILYN MONROE STAND ON STAGE | |
ED SULLIVAN | |
(into microphone) | |
Ladies and gentlemen, now the moment | |
you've all been waiting for, the | |
worldfamous Jackrabbit Slim's twist | |
contest. | |
Patrons cheer. | |
Ed Sullivan is with Marilyn Monroe, who holds a trophy. | |
ED SULLIVAN | |
...One lucky couple will win this | |
handsome trophy that Marilyn here is | |
holding. | |
Marilyn holds the trophy. | |
ED SULLIVAN | |
...Now, who will be our first | |
contestants? | |
Mia holds her hand. | |
MIA | |
Right here. | |
Vincent reacts. | |
MIA | |
I wanna dance. | |
VINCENT | |
No, no, no no, no, no, no, no. | |
MIA | |
(overlapping) | |
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, Now, I want to | |
dance. I want to win. I want that | |
trophy. | |
VINCENT | |
(sighs) | |
All right. | |
MIA | |
So, dance good. | |
VINCENT | |
All right, you asked for it. | |
Vincent and Mia walk onto the dance floor, toward Ed Sullivan. | |
ED SULLIVAN | |
(into microphone) | |
Let's hear it for our first | |
contestants. | |
Patrons cheer. | |
Vincent and Mia walk up to the microphone. | |
ED SULLIVAN | |
Now let's meet our first contestants | |
here this evening. Young lady, what | |
is your name? | |
MIA | |
(into microphone) | |
Missus Mia Wallace. | |
ED SULLIVAN | |
(into microphone) | |
And, uh, how 'bout your fella here? | |
MIA | |
(into microphone) | |
Vincent Vega. | |
ED SULLIVAN | |
(into microphone) | |
All right, let's see what you can | |
do. Take it away! | |
Mia and Vincent dance to Chuck Berry's "YOU NEVER CAN TELL". | |
They make hand movements as they dance. | |
INT. MARSELLUS WALLACE'S HOME – NIGHT | |
The front door FLINGS open, and Mia and Vincent dance tango- | |
style into the house, singing a cappella the song from the | |
previous scene. They finish their little dance, laughing. | |
Then... | |
The two just stand face to face looking at each other. | |
VINCENT | |
Was than an uncomfortable silence? | |
MIA | |
I don't know what that was. | |
(pause) | |
Music and drinks! | |
Mia moves away to attend to both. Vincent hangs up his | |
overcoat on a big bronze coat rack in the alcove. | |
VINCENT | |
I'm gonna take a piss. | |
MIA | |
That was a little bit more information | |
than I needed to know, but go right | |
ahead. | |
Vincent shuffles off to the john. | |
Mia moves to her CD player, thumbs through a stack of CDs | |
and selects one: k.d. lang. The speakers BLAST OUT a high | |
energy country number, which Mia plays air-guitar to. She | |
dances her way around the room and finds herself by Vincent's | |
overcoat hanging on the rack. She touches its sleeve. It | |
feels good. | |
Her hand hoes in its pocket and pulls out his tobacco pouch. | |
Like a little girl playing cowboy, she spreads the tobacco | |
on some rolling paper. Imitating what he did earlier, licks | |
the paper and rolls it into a pretty good cigarette. Maybe a | |
little too fat, but not bad for a first try. Mia thinks so | |
anyway. Her hand reaches back in the pocket and pulls out | |
his Zippo lighter. She SLAPS the lighter against her leg, | |
trying to light it fancy-style like Vince did. What do you | |
know, she did it! Mia's one happy clam. She triumphantly | |
brings the fat flame up to her fat smoke, lighting it up, | |
then LOUDLY SNAPS the Zippo closed. | |
The Mia-made cigarette is brought up to her lips, and she | |
takes a long, cool drag. Her hand slides the Zippo back in | |
the overcoat pocket. But wait, her fingers touch something | |
else. Those fingers bring out a plastic bag with white powder | |
inside, the madman that Vincent bought earlier from Lance. | |
Wearing a big smile, Mia brings the bag of heroin up to her | |
face. | |
MIA | |
(like you would say | |
Bingo!) | |
Disco! Vince, you little cola nut, | |
you've been holding out on me. | |
CUT TO: | |
INT. BATHROOM (MARSELLUS WALLACE'S HOUSE) – NIGHT | |
Vincent stands at the sink, washing his hands, talking to | |
himself in the mirror. | |
VINCENT | |
One drink and leave. Don't be rude, | |
but drink your drink quickly, say | |
goodbye, walk out the door, get in | |
your car, and go down the road. | |
LIVING ROOM | |
Mia has the unbeknownst-to-her heroin cut up into big lines | |
on her glass top coffee table. Taking her trusty hundred | |
dollar bill like a human Dust-Buster, she quickly snorts the | |
fat line. | |
CLOSEUP – MIA | |
Her head JERKS back. Her hands go to her nose (which feels | |
like it's on fucking fire), something is terribly wrong. | |
Then... the rush hits... | |
BATHROOM | |
Vincent dries his hands on a towel while he continues his | |
dialogue with the mirror. | |
VINCENT | |
...It's a moral test of yourself, | |
whether or not you can maintain | |
loyalty. Because when people are | |
loyal to each other, that's very | |
meaningful. | |
LIVING ROOM | |
Mia is on all fours trying to crawl to the bathroom, but | |
it's like she's trying to crawl with the bones removed from | |
her knees. Blood begins to drip from Mia's nose. Then her | |
stomach gets into the act and she VOMITS. | |
BATHROOM | |
Vince continues. | |
VINCENT | |
So you're gonna go out there, drink | |
your drink, say "Goodnight, I've had | |
a very lovely evening," go home, and | |
jack off. And that's all you're | |
gonna do. | |
Now that he's given himself a little pep talk, Vincent's | |
ready for whatever's waiting for him on the other side of | |
that door. So he goes through it. | |
LIVING ROOM | |
We follow behind Vincent as he walks from the bathroom to | |
the living room, where he finds Mia lying on the floor like | |
a rag doll. She's twisted on her back. Blood and puke are | |
down her front. And her face is contorted. Not out of the | |
tightness of pain, but just the opposite, the muscles in her | |
face are so relaxed, she lies still with her mouth wide open. | |
Slack-jawed. | |
VINCENT | |
Jesus Christ! | |
Vincent moves like greased lightning to Mia's fallen body. | |
Bending down where she lays, he puts his fingers on her neck | |
to check her pulse. She slightly stirs. | |
Mia is aware of Vincent over her, speaking to her. | |
VINCENT | |
(sounding weird) | |
Mia! MIA! What the hell happened? | |
But she's unable to communicate Mia makes a few lost mumbles, | |
but they're not distinctive enough to be called words. | |
Vincent props her eyelids open and sees the story. | |
VINCENT | |
(to himself) | |
I'll be a son-of-a-bitch. | |
(to Mia) | |
Mia! MIA! What did you take? Answer | |
me honey, what did you take? | |
Mia is incapable of answering. He SLAPS her face hard. | |
Vincent SPRINGS up and RUNS to his overcoat, hanging on the | |
rack. | |
He goes through the pockets FRANTICALLY. It's gone. Vincent | |
makes a beeline to Mia. We follow. | |
VINCENT | |
(yelling to Mia) | |
Okay honey, we're getting you on | |
your feet. | |
He reaches her and hoists the dead weight up in his arms. | |
VINCENT | |
We're on our feet now, and now we're | |
gonna talk out to the car. Here we | |
go, watch us walk. | |
We follow behind as he hurriedly walks the practically- | |
unconscious Mia through the house and out the front door. | |
EXT. VINCENT'S HOT ROD (MOVING) – NIGHT | |
INSERT SPEEDOMETER: red needle on a hundred. | |
Vincent driving like a madman in a town without traffic laws, | |
speeds the car into turns and up and over hills. | |
INT.VINCENT'S HOT ROD (MOVING) – NIGHT | |
Vincent, one hand firmly on the wheel, the other shifting | |
like Robocop, both eyes staring straight ahead except when | |
he glances over at Mia. | |
Mia, slack-jawed expression, mouth gaping, posture of a bag | |
of water. | |
Vincent takes a cellular phone out of his pocket. He punches | |
a number. | |
INT. LANCE'S HOUSE – NIGHT | |
At this late hour, LANCE has transformed from a bon vivant | |
drug dealer to a bathrobe creature. | |
He sits in a big comfy chair, ratty blue gym pants, a worn- | |
out but comfortable tee-shirt that has, written on it, "TAFT, | |
CALIFORNIA", and a moth-ridden terry cloth robe. In his hand | |
is a bowl of Cap'n Crunch with Crunch Berries. In front of | |
him on the coffee table is a jug of milk, the box the Cap'n | |
Crunch with Crunch Berries came out of, and a hash pipe in | |
an ashtray. | |
On the big-screen TV in front of the table is the Three | |
Stooges, and they're getting married. | |
PREACHER (EMIL SIMKUS) | |
(on TV) | |
Hold hands, you love birds. | |
The phone RINGS. | |
Lance puts down his cereal and makes his way to the phone. | |
It RINGS again. | |
Jody, his wife, CALLS from the bedroom, obviously woken up. | |
JODY (O.S.) | |
Lance! The phone's ringing! | |
LANCE | |
(calling back) | |
I can hear it! | |
JODY (O.S.) | |
I thought you told those fuckin' | |
assholes never to call this late! | |
LANCE | |
(by the phone) | |
I told 'em and that's what I'm gonna | |
tell this fuckin' asshole right now! | |
(he answers the phone) | |
Hello, do you know how late it is? | |
You're not supposed to be callin' me | |
this fuckin' late. | |
BACK TO: | |
VINCENT IN THE MALIBU | |
Vincent is still driving like a stripe-assed ape, clutching | |
the phone to his ear. WE CUT BACK AND FORTH during the | |
conversation. | |
VINCENT | |
Lance, this is Vincent, I'm in big | |
fuckin' trouble man, I'm on my way | |
to your place. | |
LANCE | |
Whoa, hold you horses man, what's | |
the problem? | |
VINCENT | |
You still got an adrenaline shot? | |
LANCE | |
(dawning on him) | |
Maybe. | |
VINCENT | |
I need it man, I got a chick she's | |
fuckin' Doing on me. | |
LANCE | |
Don't bring her here! I'm not even | |
fuckin' joking with you, don't you | |
be bringing some fucked up pooh-butt | |
to my house! | |
VINCENT | |
No choice. | |
LANCE | |
She's ODin'? | |
VINCENT | |
Yeah. She's dyin'. | |
LANCE | |
Then bite the fuckin' bullet, take | |
'er to a hospital and call a lawyer! | |
VINCENT | |
Negative. | |
LANCE | |
She ain't my fuckin' problem, you | |
fucked her up, you deal with it – | |
are you talkin' to me on a cellular | |
phone? | |
VINCENT | |
Sorry. | |
LANCE | |
I don't know you, who is this, don't | |
come here, I'm hangin' up. | |
VINCENT | |
Too late, I'm already here. | |
At that moment inside Lance's house, WE HEAR VINCENT's Malibu | |
coming up the street. Lance hangs up the phone, goes to his | |
curtains and YANKS the cord. The curtains open with a WHOOSH | |
in time to see Vincent's Malibu DRIVING UP on his front lawn | |
and CRASHING into his house. The window Lance is looking out | |
of SHATTERS from the impact. | |
JODY (O.S.) | |
What the hell was that? | |
Lance CHARGES from the window, out the door to his front | |
lawn. | |
EXT. LANCE'S HOUSE – NIGHT | |
Vincent is already out of the car, working on getting Mia | |
out. | |
LANCE | |
Have you lost your mind?! You crashed | |
your car in my fuckin' house! You | |
talk about drug shit on a cellular | |
fuckin' phone – | |
VINCENT | |
If you're through havin' your little | |
hissy fit, this chick is dyin', get | |
your needle and git it now! | |
LANCE | |
Are you deaf? You're not bringin' | |
that fucked up bitch in my house! | |
VINCENT | |
This fucked up bitch is Marsellus | |
Wallace's wife. Now if she fuckin' | |
croaks on me, I'm a grease spot. But | |
before he turns me into a bar soap, | |
I'm gonna be forced to tell 'im about | |
how you coulda saved her life, but | |
instead you let her die on your front | |
lawn. | |
INT. LANCE'S HOUSE – NIGHT | |
WE START in Lance's and Jody's bedroom. | |
Jody, in bed, throws off the covers and stands up. She's | |
wearing a long tee-shirt with a picture of Fred Flintstone | |
on it. | |
We follow HANDHELD behind her as she opens the door, walking | |
through the hall into the living room. | |
JODY | |
It's only one-thirty in the goddamn | |
mornin'! What the fuck's goin' on | |
out here? | |
As she walks in the living room, she sees Vincent and Lance | |
standing over Mia, who's lying on the floor in the middle of | |
the room. | |
From here on in, everything in this scene is frantic, like a | |
DOCUMENTARY in an emergency ward, with the big difference | |
here being nobody knows what the fuck they're doing. | |
JODY | |
Who's she? | |
Lance looks up at Jody. | |
LANCE | |
Get that black box in the bedroom I | |
have with the adrenaline shot. | |
JODY | |
What's wrong with her? | |
VINCENT | |
She's ODing on us. | |
JODY | |
Well get her the hell outta here! | |
LANCE AND VINCENT | |
(in stereo) | |
Get the fuckin' shot! | |
JODY | |
Don't yell and me! | |
She angrily turns and disappears into the bedroom looking | |
for the shot. | |
WE MOVE into the room with the two men. | |
VINCENT | |
(to Lance) | |
You two are a match made in heaven. | |
LANCE | |
Look, just keep talkin' to her, okay? | |
While she's gettin' the shot, I gotta | |
get a medical book. | |
VINCENT | |
What do you need a medical book for? | |
LANCE | |
To tell me how to do it. I've never | |
given an adrenaline shot before. | |
VINCENT | |
You've had that thing for six years | |
and you never used it? | |
LANCE | |
I never had to use it. I don't go | |
joypoppin' with bubble-gummers, all | |
of my friends can handle their highs! | |
VINCENT | |
Well then get it. | |
LANCE | |
I am, if you'll let me. | |
VINCENT | |
I'm not fuckin' stoppin' you. | |
LANCE | |
Stop talkin' to me, and start talkin' | |
to her. | |
WE FOLLOW Lance as he runs out of the living room into a... | |
INT. SPARE ROOM | |
With a bunch of junk in it. He frantically starts scanning | |
the junk for the book he's looking for, repeating the words, | |
"Come on," endlessly. | |
From OFF SCREEN we hear: | |
VINCENT (O.S.) | |
Hurry up man! We're losin' her! | |
LANCE | |
(calling back) | |
I'm looking as fast as I can! | |
Lance continues his frenzied search. | |
WE HEAR Jody in the living room now as she talks to Vincent. | |
JODY (O.S.) | |
What's he lookin' for? | |
VINCENT (O.S.) | |
I dunno, some medical book. | |
Jody calls to LANCE. | |
JODY (O.S.) | |
What are you lookin' for? | |
LANCE | |
My black medical book! | |
As he continues searching, flipping and knocking over shit, | |
Jody appears in the doorway. | |
JODY | |
Whata're you looking for? | |
LANCE | |
My black fuckin' medical book. It's | |
like a text book they give to nurses. | |
JODY | |
I never saw a medical book. | |
LANCE | |
Trust me, I have one. | |
JODY | |
Well if it's that important, why | |
didn't you keep it with the shot? | |
Lance spins toward her. | |
LANCE | |
I don't know! Stop bothering me! | |
JODY | |
While you're lookin' for it, that | |
girl's gonna die on our carpet. You're | |
never gonna find it in all this shit. | |
For six months now, I've been telling | |
you to clean this room – | |
VINCENT (O.S.) | |
– get your ass in here, fuck the | |
book! | |
Lance angrily knocks over a pile of shit and leaves the SHOT | |
heading for the living room. | |
LIVING ROOM | |
Vincent is bent over Mia, talking softly to her, when Lance | |
reenters the room. | |
VINCENT | |
Quit fuckin' around man and give her | |
the shot! | |
Lance bends down by the black case brought in by Jody. He | |
opens it and begins preparing the needle for injection. | |
LANCE | |
While I'm doing this, take her shirt | |
off and find her heart. | |
Vince rips her blouse open. | |
Jody stumbles back in the room, hanging back from the action. | |
VINCENT | |
Does it have to be exact? | |
LANCE | |
Yeah, it has to be exact! I'm giving | |
her an injection in the heart, so I | |
gotta exactly hit her in the heart. | |
VINCENT | |
Well, I don't know exactly where her | |
heart is, I think it's here. | |
Vince points to Mia's right breast. Lance glances over and | |
nods. | |
LANCE | |
That's it. | |
As Lance readies the injection, Vincent looks up at Jody. | |
VINCENT | |
I need a big fat magic marker, got | |
one? | |
JODY | |
What? | |
VINCENT | |
I need a big fat magic marker, any | |
felt pen'll do, but a magic marker | |
would be great. | |
JODY | |
Hold on. | |
Jody runs to the desk, opens the top drawer and, in her | |
enthusiasm, she pulls the drawer out of the desk, the contents | |
of which (bills, papers, pens) spill to the floor. | |
The injection is ready. Lance hands Vincent the needle. | |
LANCE | |
It's ready, I'll tell you what to | |
do. | |
VINCENT | |
You're gonna give her the shot. | |
LANCE | |
No, you're gonna give her the shot. | |
VINCENT | |
I've never does this before. | |
LANCE | |
I've never done this before either, | |
and I ain't starting now. You brought | |
'er here, that means you give her | |
the shot. The day I bring an ODing | |
bitch to your place, then I gotta | |
give her the shot. | |
Jody hurriedly joins them in the huddle, a big fat red magic | |
marker in her hand. | |
JODY | |
Got it. | |
Vincent grabs the magic marker out of Jody's hand and makes | |
a big red dot on Mia's body where her heart is. | |
VINCENT | |
Okay, what do I do? | |
LANCE | |
Well, you're giving her an injection | |
of adrenaline straight to her heart. | |
But she's got a breast plate in front | |
of her heart, so you gotta pierce | |
through that. So what you gotta do | |
is bring the needle down in a stabbing | |
motion. | |
Lance demonstrates a stabbing motion, which looks like "The | |
Shape" killing its victims in "HALLOWEEN". | |
VINCENT | |
I gotta stab her? | |
LANCE | |
If you want the needle to pierce | |
through to her heart, you gotta stab | |
her hard. | |
Then once you do, push down on the plunger. | |
VINCENT | |
What happens after that? | |
LANCE | |
I'm curious about that myself. | |
VINCENT | |
This ain't a fuckin' joke man! | |
LANCE | |
She's supposed to come out of it | |
like – | |
(snaps his fingers) | |
– that. | |
Vincent lifts the needle up above his head in a stabbing | |
motion. | |
He looks down on Mia. | |
Mia is fading fast. Soon nothing will help her. | |
Vincent's eyes narrow, ready to do this. | |
VINCENT | |
Count to three. | |
Lance, on this knees right beside Vincent, does not know | |
what to expect. | |
LANCE | |
One... | |
RED DOT on Mia's body. | |
Needle raised ready to strike. | |
LANCE (O.S.) | |
...two... | |
Jody's face is alive with anticipation. | |
NEEDLE in that air, poised like a rattler ready to strike. | |
LANCE (O.S.) | |
...three! | |
The needle leaves frame, THRUSTING down hard. | |
Vincent brings the needle down hard, STABBING Mia in the | |
chest. | |
Mia's head is JOLTED from the impact. | |
The syringe plunger is pushed down, PUMPING the adrenaline | |
out through the needle. | |
Mia's eyes POP WIDE OPEN and she lets out a HELLISH cry of | |
the banshee. She BOLTS UP in a sitting position, needle stuck | |
in her chest – SCREAMING. | |
Vincent, Lance and Jody, who were in sitting positions in | |
front of Mia, JUMP BACK, scared to death. | |
Mia's scream runs out. She slowly starts taking breaths of | |
air. | |
The other three, now scooted halfway across the room, shaken | |
to their bones, look to see if she's alright. | |
LANCE | |
If you're okay, say something. | |
Mia, still breathing, not looking up at them, says in a | |
relatively normal voice. | |
MIA | |
Something. | |
Vincent and Lance collapse on their backs, exhausted and | |
shaking from how close to death Mia came. | |
JODY | |
Anybody want a beer? | |
CUT TO: | |
INT. VINCENT'S MALIBU (MOVING) – NIGHT | |
Vincent is behind the wheel driving Mia home. No one says | |
anything, both are still too shaken. | |
EXT. FRONT OF MARSELLUS WALLACE'S HOUSE – NIGHT | |
The Malibu pulls up to the front. Mia gets out without saying | |
a word (still in a daze) and begins walking down the walkway | |
toward her front door. | |
VINCENT (O.S.) | |
Mia! | |
She turns around. | |
Vincent's out of the car, standing on the walkway, a big | |
distance between the two. | |
VINCENT | |
What are your thoughts on how to | |
handle this? | |
MIA | |
What's yours? | |
VINCENT | |
Well I'm of the opinion that Marsellus | |
can live his whole live and never | |
ever hear of this incident. | |
Mia smiles. | |
MIA | |
Don't worry about it. If Marsellus | |
ever heard of this, I'd be in as | |
much trouble as you. | |
VINCENT | |
I seriously doubt that. | |
MIA | |
If you can keep a secret, so can I. | |
VINCENT | |
Let's shake on it. | |
The two walk toward each other, holding out their hands to | |
shake and shake they do. | |
VINCENT | |
Mum's the word. | |
Mia lets go of Vincent's hand and silently makes the see-no- | |
evil, hear-no-evil, and speak-no-evil sign with her hands. | |
Vincent smiles. | |
VINCENT | |
If you'll excuse me, I gotta go home | |
and have a heart attack. | |
Mia giggles. | |
Vincent turns to leave. | |
MIA | |
You still wanna hear my "FOX FORCE | |
FIVE" joke? | |
Vincent turns around. | |
VINCENT | |
Sure, but I think I'm still a little | |
too petrified to laugh. | |
MIA | |
Uh-huh. You won't laugh because 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. | |
The baby tomato is lagging behind | |
the poppa and momma tomato. The poppa | |
tomato gets mad, goes over to the | |
momma tomato and stamps on him – | |
(stamps on the ground) | |
– and says: catch up. | |
They both smile, but neither laugh. | |
MIA | |
See ya 'round, Vince. | |
Mia turns and walks inside her house. | |
CLOSEUP – VINCENT | |
After Mia walks inside. Vincent continues to look at where | |
she was. He brings his hands to his lips and blows her a | |
kiss. Then exits FRAME leaving it empty. WE HEAR his Malibu | |
START UP and DRIVE AWAY. | |
FADE TO BLACK | |
FADE UP On the cartoon "SPEED RACER." Speed is giving a | |
detailed description of all the features on his race car | |
"The Mac-5," which he does at the beginning of every episode. | |
OFF SCREEN we hear a WOMAN'S VOICE... . | |
WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) | |
Butch. | |
DISSOLVE TO: | |
BUTCH'S POV | |
We're in the living room of a modest two bedroom house in | |
Alhambra, California, in the year 1972. BUTCH'S MOTHER, 35ish, | |
stands in the doorway leading into the living room. Next to | |
her is a man dressed in the uniform of an American Air Force | |
officer. The CAMERA is the perspective of a five-year old | |
boy. | |
MOTHER | |
Butch, stop watching TV a second. We | |
got a special visitor. Now do you | |
remember when I told you your daddy | |
dies in a P.O.W. camp? | |
BUTCH (O.S.) | |
Uh-huh. | |
MOTHER | |
Well this here is Capt. Koons. He | |
was in the P.O.W. camp with Daddy. | |
CAPT. KOONS steps inside the room toward the little boy and | |
bends down on one knee to bring him even with the boy's | |
eyeline. When Koons speaks, he speaks with a slight Texas | |
accent. | |
CAPT. KOONS | |
Hello, little man. Boy I sure heard | |
a bunch about you. See, I was a good | |
friend of your Daddy's. We were in | |
that Hanoi pit of hell over five | |
years together. Hopefully, you'll | |
never have to experience this | |
yourself, but when two men are in a | |
situation like me and your Daddy | |
were, for as long as we were, you | |
take on certain responsibilities of | |
the other. If it had been me who had | |
not made it, Major Coolidge would be | |
talkin' right now to my son Jim. But | |
the way it worked out is I'm talkin' | |
to you, Butch. I got somethin' for | |
ya. | |
The Captain pulls a gold wrist watch out of his pocket. | |
CAPT. KOONS | |
This watch I got here was first | |
purchased by your great-granddaddy. | |
It was bought during the First World | |
War in a little general store in | |
Knoxville, Tennessee. It was bought | |
by private Doughboy Ernie Coolidge | |
the day he set sail for Paris. It | |
was your great-granddaddy's war watch, | |
made by the first company to ever | |
make wrist watches. You see, up until | |
then, people just carried pocket | |
watches. Your great-granddaddy wore | |
that watch every day he was in the | |
war. Then when he had done his duty, | |
he went home to your great- | |
grandmother, took the watch off his | |
wrist and put it in an ol' coffee | |
can. And in that can it stayed 'til | |
your grandfather 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-granddaddy gave | |
it to your granddad for good luck. | |
Unfortunately, Dane's luck wasn't as | |
good as his old man's. Your granddad | |
was a Marine and he was killed with | |
all the other Marines at the battle | |
of Wake Island. Your granddad was | |
facing death and he knew it. None of | |
those boys had any illusions about | |
ever leavin' that island alive. So | |
three days before the Japanese took | |
the island, your 22-year old | |
grandfather asked a gunner on an Air | |
Force transport named 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 | |
grandfather 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 and put in a | |
Vietnamese prison camp. Now he knew | |
if the gooks ever saw the watch it'd | |
be confiscated. The way your Daddy | |
looked at it, that watch was your | |
birthright. And he'd be damned if | |
and slopeheads were gonna put their | |
greasy yella hands on his boy's | |
birthright. So he hid it in the one | |
place he knew he could hide somethin'. | |
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 with uncomfortable hunk | |
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. | |
Capt. Koons hands the watch to Butch. A little hand comes | |
into FRAME to accept it. | |
CUT TO: | |
INT. LOCKER ROOM – NIGHT | |
The 27-year old Butch Coolidge is dressed in boxing regalia: | |
trunks, shoes and gloves. He lies on a table catching a few | |
zzzzzz's before his big fight. Almost as soon as WE CUT to | |
him, he wakes up with a start. Shaken by the bizarre memory, | |
he wipes his sweaty face with his boxing glove. | |
His trainer KLONDIKE, an older fireplug, opens the door a | |
little, sticking his head in the room. Pandemonium seems to | |
be breaking out behind Klondike in the hallway. | |
KLONDIKE | |
It's time, Butch. | |
BUTCH | |
I'm ready. | |
Klondike steps inside, closing the door on the WILD MOB | |
outside. | |
He goes to the long yellow robe hanging on a hook. Butch | |
hops off the table and, without a word, Klondike helps him | |
on with the robe, which says on the back: "BATTLING BUTCH | |
COOLIDGE". | |
The two men head for the door. Klondike opens the door for | |
Butch. | |
As Butch steps into the hallway, the Crowd goes apeshit. | |
Klondike closes the door behind him, leaving us in the quiet, | |
empty locker room. | |
FADE TO BLACK | |
TITLE CARD: | |
"THE GOLD WATCH" | |
We hear over the black and white title: | |
SPORTSCASTER #1 (O.S.) | |
– Well Dan, that had to be the | |
bloodiest and, hands-down, the most | |
brutal fight this city has ever seen. | |
The SOUND of chaos in the b.g. | |
FADE IN: | |
EXT. ALLEY (RAINING) – NIGHT | |
A taxi is parked in a dark alley next to an auditorium. The | |
sky is PISSIN' DOWN RAIN. WE SLOWLY DOLLY toward the parked | |
car. The SOUND of the CAR RADIO can be heard coming from | |
inside. | |
SPORTSCASTER #1 (O.S.) | |
...Coolidge was out of there faster | |
than I've ever seen a victorious | |
boxer vacate the ring. Do you think | |
he knew Willis was dead? | |
SPORTSCASTER #2 (O.S.) | |
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've left the ring | |
that fast. | |
DISSOLVE TO: | |
INT. TAXI (PARKED/RAINING) – NIGHT | |
Inside the taxi, behind the wheel, is a female cabbie named | |
ESMARELDA VILLALOBOS. A young woman, with Spanish looks, | |
sits parked, drinking a steaming hot cup of coffee out of a | |
white styrofoam cup. | |
The Sportscasters continue their coverage. | |
SPORTSCASTER #1 (O.S.) | |
Do you feel this ring death tragedy | |
will have an effect on the world of | |
boxing? | |
SPORTSCASTER #2 (O.S.) | |
Oh Dan, a tragedy like this can't | |
help but shake the world of boxing | |
to its very foundation. But it's of | |
paramount importance that during the | |
sad weeks ahead, the eyes of the | |
W.B.A. remain firmly fixed on the – | |
CLICK – Esmarelda shuts off the radio. | |
She takes a sip of coffee, then hears a NOISE behind her in | |
the alley. She sticks her head out of the car door to see: | |
EXT. BOXING AUDITORIUM (RAINING) – NIGHT | |
A window about three stories high opens on the auditorium- | |
side of the alley. A gym bag is tossed out into a garbage | |
dumpster below the window. Then, Butch Coolidge, still dressed | |
in boxing trunks, shoes, gloves and yellow robe, LEAPS to | |
the dumpster below. | |
ESMARELDA'S REACTION takes in the strangeness of this sight. | |
Gym bag in hand, Butch CLIMBS out of the dumpster and RUNS | |
to the taxi. Before he climbs in, he takes off his robe and | |
throws it to the ground. | |
INT. TAXI (PARKED / RAINING) – NIGHT | |
Butch, soaking wet, naked except for trunks, shoes and gloves, | |
HOPS in the backseat, SLAMMING the door. | |
Esmarelda, staring straight ahead, talks to Butch through | |
the rearview mirror: | |
ESMARELDA | |
(Spanish accent) | |
Are you the man I was supposed to | |
pick up? | |
BUTCH | |
If you're the cab I called, I'm the | |
guy you're supposed to pick up. | |
ESMARELDA | |
Where to? | |
BUTCH | |
Outta here. | |
The ignition key is TWISTED. The engine ROARS to life. | |
The meter is FLIPPED on. | |
Esmarelda's bare foot STOMPS on the gas pedal. | |
EXT. BOXING AUDITORIUM (RAINING) – NIGHT | |
The cab WHIPS out of the alley, FISH-TAILING on the wet | |
pavement in front of the auditorium at a rapid pace. | |
INT. WILLIS LOCKER ROOM (AUDITORIUM) – NIGHT | |
Locker room door opens, English Dave fights his way through | |
the pandemonium which is going on outside in the hall, | |
shutting the door on the madness. Once inside, English Dave | |
takes time to adjust his suit and tie. Mia is standing by | |
the door. She sees Vincent with English Dave. | |
VINCENT | |
Mia. How you doin'? | |
MIA | |
Great. I never thanked you for the | |
dinner. | |
In the room, black boxer FLOYD RAY WILLIS lies on a table – | |
dead. | |
His face looks like he went dunking for bees. His TRAINER is | |
on his knees, head on Floyd's chest, crying over the body. | |
The huge figure that is Marsellus Wallace stands at the table, | |
hand on the Trainer's shoulder, lending emotional support. | |
We still do not see Marsellus clearly, only that he is big. | |
Mia sits in a chair at the far end of the room. | |
Marsellus looks up, sees English Dave and walks over to him. | |
MARSELLUS (O.S.) | |
What'cha got? | |
ENGLISH DAVE | |
He booked. | |
MARSELLUS (O.S.) | |
I'm prepared to scour the earth for | |
this motherfucker. If Butch goes to | |
Indo China, I want a nigger hidin' | |
in a bowl of rice, ready to pop a | |
cap in his ass. | |
ENGLISH DAVE | |
I'll take care of it. | |
INT. CAB (MOVING / RAINING) – NIGHT | |
Butch gets one of his boxing gloves off. | |
Esmeralda watches in the rearview mirror. | |
He tries to roll down one of the backseat windows, but can't | |
find the roll bar. | |
BUTCH | |
Hey, how do I open the window back | |
here? | |
ESMARELDA | |
I have to do it. | |
She presses a button and the back window moves down. Butch | |
tosses his boxing glove out the window, then starts untying | |
the other one. | |
Esmeralda can't keep quiet anymore. | |
ESMARELDA | |
Hey, mister? | |
BUTCH | |
(still working on the | |
glove) | |
What? | |
ESMARELDA | |
You were in that fight? The fight on | |
the radio – you're the fighter? | |
As he tosses his other glove out the window. | |
BUTCH | |
Whatever gave you that idea? | |
ESMARELDA | |
No c'mon, you're him, I know you're | |
him, tell me you're him. | |
BUTCH | |
(drying himself with | |
a gym towel) | |
I'm him. | |
ESMARELDA | |
You killed the other boxing man. | |
BUTCH | |
He's dead? | |
ESMARELDA | |
The radio said he was dead. | |
He finished wiping himself down. | |
BUTCH | |
(to himself) | |
Sorry 'bout that, Floyd. | |
He tosses the towel out the window. | |
Silence, as Butch digs in his bag for a t-shirt. | |
ESMARELDA | |
What does it feel like? | |
BUTCH | |
(finds his shirt) | |
What does what feel like? | |
ESMARELDA | |
Killing a man. Beating another man | |
to death with your bare hands. | |
Butch pulls on his tee-shirt. | |
BUTCH | |
Are you some kinda weirdo? | |
ESMARELDA | |
No, it's a subject I have much | |
interest in. You are the first person | |
I ever met who has killed somebody. | |
So, what was it like to kill a man? | |
BUTCH | |
Tell ya what, you give me one of | |
them cigarettes, I'll give you an | |
answer. | |
Esmarelda bounces in her seat with excitement. | |
ESMARELDA | |
Deal! | |
Butch leans forward. Esmarelda, keeping her eyes on the road, | |
passes a cigarette back to him. He takes it. Then, still not | |
looking behind her, she brings up her hand, a lit match in | |
it. | |
Butch lights his smoke, then blows out the match. | |
He takes a long drag. | |
BUTCH | |
So... | |
He looks at her license. | |
BUTCH | |
...Esmarelda Villalobos – is that | |
Mexican? | |
ESMARELDA | |
The name is Spanish, but I'm | |
Columbian. | |
BUTCH | |
It's a very pretty name. | |
ESMARELDA | |
It mean "Esmarelda of the wolves." | |
BUTCH | |
That's one hell of a name you got | |
there, sister. | |
ESMARELDA | |
Thank you. And what is your name? | |
BUTCH | |
Butch. | |
ESMARELDA | |
Butch. What does it mean? | |
BUTCH | |
I'm an American, our names don't | |
mean shit. Anyway, moving right along, | |
what is it you wanna know, Esmarelda? | |
ESMARELDA | |
I want to know what it feels like to | |
kill a man – | |
BUTCH | |
– I couldn't tell ya. I didn't know | |
he was dead 'til you told me he was | |
dead. Now I know he's dead, do you | |
wanna know how I feel about it? | |
Esmarelda nods her head: "yes." | |
BUTCH | |
I don't feel the least little bit | |
bad. | |
EXT. PHONE BOOTH (RAINING) – NIGHT | |
We DOLLY around a phone booth as Butch talks inside. | |
BUTCH | |
(into phone) | |
What'd I tell ya, soon as the word | |
got out a fix was in, the odds would | |
be outta control. Hey, if he was a | |
better fighter he's be alive. If he | |
never laced up his gloves in the | |
first place, which he never shoulda | |
done, he'd be alive. Enough about | |
the poor unfortunate Mr. Floyd, let's | |
talk about the rich and prosperous | |
Mr. Butch. How many bookies you | |
spread it around with? | |
(PAUSE) | |
Eight? How long to collect? | |
(pause) | |
So by tomorrow evening, you'll have | |
it all? | |
(pause) | |
Good news Scotty, real good news – I | |
understand a few stragglers aside. | |
Me an' Fabienne're gonna leave in | |
the morning. It should take us a | |
couple days to get into Knoxville. | |
Next time we see each other, it'll | |
be on Tennessee time. | |
Butch hangs up the phone. He looks at the cab waiting to | |
take him wherever he wants to go. | |
BUTCH | |
(to himself in French | |
with English subtitles) | |
Fabienne my love, our adventure | |
begins. | |
CUT TO: | |
EXT. MOTEL (STOPPED / RAINING) – NIGHT | |
Esmeralda's taxi pulled into the motel parking lot. The rain | |
has stopped, but the night is still soaked. Butch gets out, | |
now fully dressed in tee-shirt, jeans and high school athletic | |
jacket. He leans in the driver's side window. | |
ESMARELDA | |
Forty-five sixty. | |
Handing her the money. | |
BUTCH | |
Merci beaucoup. And here's a little | |
something for the effort. | |
Butch holds up a hundred dollar bill. | |
Esmarelda's eyes light up. She goes to take it. Butch holds | |
it out of reach. | |
BUTCH | |
Now if anybody should ask you about | |
who your fare was tonight, what're | |
you gonna tell 'em? | |
ESMARELDA | |
The truth. Three well-dressed, | |
slightly toasted, Mexicans. | |
He gives her the bill. | |
BUTCH | |
Bon soir, Esmarelda. | |
ESMARELDA | |
(in Spanish) | |
Sleep well, Butch. | |
He tweaks her nose, she smiles, and he turns and walks away. | |
She drives off. | |
INT. MOTEL (ROOM SIX) – NIGHT | |
Butch enters and turns on the light. | |
Lying curled up on the bed, fully dressed, with her back to | |
us is Butch's French girlfriend, FABIENNE. | |
FABIENNE | |
Keep the light off. | |
Butch flicks the switch back, making the room dark again. | |
BUTCH | |
Is that better, sugar pop? | |
FABIENNE | |
Oui. Hard day at the office? | |
BUTCH | |
Pretty hard. I got into a fight. | |
FABIENNE | |
Poor baby. Can we make spoons? | |
Butch climbs into bed, spooning Fabienne from behind. | |
When Butch and Fabienne speak to each other, they speak in | |
babytalk. | |
FABIENNE | |
I was looking at myself in the mirror. | |
BUTCH | |
Uh-huh? | |
FABIENNE | |
I wish I had a pot. | |
BUTCH | |
You were lookin' in the mirror and | |
you wish you had some pot? | |
FABIENNE | |
A pot. A pot belly. Pot bellies are | |
sexy. | |
BUTCH | |
Well you should be happy, 'cause you | |
do. | |
FABIENNE | |
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. | |
BUTCH | |
I didn't realize there was a | |
difference between a tummy and a pot | |
belly. | |
FABIENNE | |
The difference is huge. | |
BUTCH | |
You want me to have a pot? | |
FABIENNE | |
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 | |
tee-shirt two sizes too small to | |
accentuate it. | |
BUTCH | |
You think guys would find that | |
attractive? | |
FABIENNE | |
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. | |
BUTCH | |
If you a pot belly, I'd punch you in | |
it. | |
FABIENNE | |
You'd punch me in my belly? | |
BUTCH | |
Right in the belly. | |
FABIENNE | |
I'd smother you. I'd drop it on your | |
right on your face 'til you couldn't | |
breathe. | |
BUTCH | |
You'd do that to me? | |
FABIENNE | |
Yes! | |
BUTCH | |
Did you get everything, sugar pop? | |
FABIENNE | |
Yes, I did. | |
BUTCH | |
Good job. | |
FABIENNE | |
Did everything go as planned? | |
BUTCH | |
You didn't listen to the radio? | |
FABIENNE | |
I never listen to your fights. Were | |
you the winner? | |
BUTCH | |
I won alright. | |
FABIENNE | |
Are you still retiring? | |
BUTCH | |
Sure am. | |
FABIENNE | |
What about the man you fought? | |
BUTCH | |
Floyd retired too. | |
FABIENNE | |
(smiling) | |
Really?! He won't be fighting no | |
more?! | |
BUTCH | |
Not no more. | |
FABIENNE | |
So it all worked out in the finish? | |
BUTCH | |
We ain't at the finish, baby. | |
Fabienne rolls over and Butch gets on top of her. They kiss. | |
FABIENNE | |
We're in a lot of danger, aren't we? | |
Butch nods his head: "yes." | |
FABIENNE | |
If they find us, they'll kill us, | |
won't they? | |
Butch nods his head: "yes." | |
FABIENNE | |
But they won't find us, will they? | |
Butch nods his head: "no." | |
FABIENNE | |
Do you still want me to go with you? | |
Butch nods his head: "yes." | |
FABIENNE | |
I don't want to be a burden or a | |
nuisance - | |
Butch's hand goes out of frame and starts massaging her | |
crotch. | |
Fabienne reacts. | |
FABIENNE | |
Say it! | |
BUTCH | |
Fabienne, I want you to be with me. | |
FABIENNE | |
Forever? | |
BUTCH | |
...and ever. | |
Fabienne lies her head back. | |
Butch continues to massage her crotch. | |
FABIENNE | |
Do you love me? | |
BUTCH | |
Oui. | |
FABIENNE | |
Butch? Will you give me oral pleasure? | |
Butch kisses her on the mouth. | |
BUTCH | |
Will you kiss it? | |
She nods her head: "yes." | |
FABIENNE | |
But you first. | |
Butch's head goes down out of frame to carry out the oral | |
pleasure. Fabienne's face is alone in the frame. | |
FABIENNE | |
(in French, with | |
English subtitles) | |
Butch my love, the adventure begins. | |
FADE TO BLACK | |
FADE UP: | |
MOTEL ROOM | |
Same motel room, except empty. WE HEAR THE SHOWER RUNNING in | |
the bathroom. The CAMERA MOVES to the bathroom doorway. We | |
see Fabienne in a white terry cloth robe that seems to swallow | |
her up. | |
She's drying her head with a towel. Butch is inside the shower | |
washing up. We see the outline of his naked body through the | |
smoky glass of the shower door. Steam fills the bathroom. | |
Butch turns the shower off and opens the door, popping his | |
head out. | |
BUTCH | |
I think I cracked a rib. | |
FABIENNE | |
Giving me oral pleasure? | |
BUTCH | |
No retard, from the fight. | |
FABIENNE | |
Don't call me retard. | |
BUTCH | |
(in a Mongoloid voice) | |
My name is Fabby! My name is Fabby! | |
FABIENNE | |
Shut up fuck head! I hate that | |
Mongoloid voice. | |
BUTCH | |
Okay, sorry, sorry, sorry, I take it | |
back! Can I have a towel please, | |
Miss Beautiful Tulip. | |
FABIENNE | |
Oh I like that, I like being called | |
a tulip. Tulip is much better than | |
Mongoloid. | |
She finishes drying her hair and wraps the towel like a turban | |
on her head. | |
BUTCH | |
I didn't call you a Mongoloid, I | |
called you a retard, but I took it | |
back. | |
She hands him a towel. | |
BUTCH | |
Merci beaucoup. | |
FABIENNE | |
Butch? | |
BUTCH | |
(drying his head) | |
Yes, lemon pie. | |
FABIENNE | |
Where are we going to go? | |
BUTCH | |
I'm not sure yet. Wherever you want. | |
We're gonna get a lot of money from | |
this. But it ain't gonna be so much, | |
we can live like hogs in the fat | |
house forever. I was thinking we | |
could go somewhere in the South | |
Pacific. The kinda money we'll have'll | |
carry us a long way down there. | |
FABIENNE | |
So if we wanted, we could live in | |
Bora Bora? | |
BUTCH | |
You betcha. And if after awhile you | |
don't dig Bora Bora, then we can | |
move over to Tahiti or Mexico. | |
FABIENNE | |
But I do not speak Spanish. | |
BUTCH | |
You don't speak Bora Boran either. | |
Besides, Mexican is easy: Donde esta | |
el zapataria? | |
FABIENNE | |
What does that mean? | |
BUTCH | |
Where's the shoe store? | |
FABIENNE | |
Donde esta el zapataria? | |
BUTCH | |
Excellent pronunciation. You'll be | |
my little mama ceta in no time. | |
Butch exits the bathroom. We stay on Fabienne as she brushes | |
her teeth. | |
Butch keeps on from the other room. | |
BUTCH (O.S.) | |
Que hora es? | |
FABIENNE | |
Que hora es? | |
BUTCH (O.S.) | |
What time is it? | |
FABIENNE | |
What time is it? | |
BUTCH (O.S.) | |
Time for bed. Sweet dream, jellybean. | |
Fabienne brushes her teeth. We watch her for a moment or | |
two, then she remember something. | |
FABIENNE | |
Butch. | |
She walks out of the bathroom to ask Butch a question, only | |
to find him sound asleep in bed. | |
She looks at him for a moment. | |
FABIENNE | |
Forget it. | |
She exits frame, going back in the bathroom. WE STAY on the | |
WIDE SHOT of the unconscious Butch in bed. | |
FADE TO BLACK | |
FADE UP: | |
MOTEL ROOM – MORNING | |
SAME SHOT AS BEFORE, the next morning. We find Butch still | |
asleep in bed. | |
Fabienne brushes her teeth half in and half out of the | |
bathroom so she can watch TV at the same time. She still | |
wears the terry cloth robe from the night before. | |
ON TV: WILLIAM SMITH and a BUNCH OF HELL'S ANGELS are taking | |
on the entire Vietnamese army in the film "THE LOSERS". | |
Butch wakes from his sleep, as if a scary monster was chasing | |
him. | |
His start startles Fabienne. | |
FABIENNE | |
Merde! You startled me. Did you have | |
a bad dream? | |
Butch squints down the front of the bed at her, trying to | |
focus. | |
Butch, still trying to chase the cobwebs away, sees on TV | |
Hell's Angels tear-assin' through a Vietnamese prison camp. | |
BUTCH | |
What are you watching? | |
FABIENNE | |
A motorcycle movie, I'm not sure the | |
name. | |
BUTCH | |
Are you watchin' it? | |
Fabienne enters the room. | |
FABIENNE | |
In a way. Why? Would you like for me | |
to switch it off? | |
BUTCH | |
Would you please? | |
She reaches over and turns off the TV. | |
BUTCH | |
It's a little too early in the morning | |
for explosions and war. | |
FABIENNE | |
What was it about? | |
BUTCH | |
How should I know, you were the one | |
watchin' it. | |
Fabienne laughs. | |
FABIENNE | |
No, imbecile, what was your dream | |
about? | |
BUTCH | |
Oh, I... don't remember. It's really | |
rare I remember a dream. | |
FABIENNE | |
You just woke up from it. | |
BUTCH | |
Fabienne, I'm not lying to you, I | |
don't remember. | |
FABIENNE | |
Well, let's look at the grumpy man | |
in the morning. I didn't say you | |
were lying, it's just odd you don't | |
remember your dreams. I always | |
remember mine. Did you know you talk | |
in your sleep? | |
BUTCH | |
I don't talk in my sleep, do I talk | |
in my sleep? | |
FABIENNE | |
You did last night. | |
BUTCH | |
What did I say? | |
Laying on top of him. | |
FABIENNE | |
I don't know. I couldn't understand | |
you. | |
She kisses Butch. | |
FABIENNE | |
Why don't you get up and we'll get | |
some breakfast at that breakfast | |
place with the pancakes. | |
BUTCH | |
One more kiss and I'll get up. | |
Fabienne gives Butch a sweet long kiss. | |
FABIENNE | |
Satisfied? | |
BUTCH | |
Yep. | |
FABIENNE | |
Then get up, lazy bones. | |
Butch climbs out of bed and starts pulling clothes out of | |
the suitcase that Fabienne brought. | |
BUTCH | |
What time is it? | |
FABIENNE | |
Almost nine in the morning. What | |
time does our train arrive? | |
BUTCH | |
Eleven. | |
FABIENNE | |
I'm gonna order a big plate of | |
blueberry pancakes with maple syrup, | |
eggs over easy, and five sausages. | |
BUTCH | |
(surprised at her | |
potential appetite) | |
Anything to drink with that? | |
Butch is finished dressing. | |
FABIENNE | |
(referring to his | |
clothes) | |
Oh yes, that looks nice. To drink, a | |
tall glass or orange juice and a | |
black cup of coffee. After that, I'm | |
going to have a slice of pie. | |
As he goes through the suitcase. | |
BUTCH | |
Pie for breakfast? | |
FABIENNE | |
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 – | |
BUTCH | |
– where's my watch? | |
FABIENNE | |
It's there. | |
BUTCH | |
No, it's not. It's not here. | |
FABIENNE | |
Have you looked? | |
By now, Butch is frantically rummaging through the suitcase. | |
BUTCH | |
Yes I've fuckin' looked!! | |
He's now throwing clothes. | |
BUTCH | |
What the fuck do you think I'm doing?! | |
Are you sure you got it? | |
Fabienne can hardly speak, she's never seen Butch this way. | |
FABIENNE | |
Uhhh... yes... beside the table drawer | |
– | |
BUTCH | |
– on the little kangaroo. | |
FABIENNE | |
Yes, it was on your little kangaroo. | |
BUTCH | |
Well it's not here! | |
FABIENNE | |
(on the verge of tears) | |
Well it should be! | |
BUTCH | |
Oh it most definitely should be here, | |
but it's not. So where is it? | |
Fabienne is crying and scared. | |
Butch lowers his voice, which only serves to make him more | |
menacing. | |
BUTCH | |
Fabienne, that was my father's fuckin' | |
watch. You know what my father went | |
through to git me that watch?... I | |
don't wanna get into it right now... | |
but he went through a lot. Now all | |
this other shit, you coulda set on | |
fire, but I specifically reminded | |
you not to forget my father's watch. | |
Now think, did you get it? | |
FABIENNE | |
I believe so... | |
BUTCH | |
You believe so? You either did, or | |
you didn't, now which one is it? | |
FABIENNE | |
Then I did. | |
BUTCH | |
Are you sure? | |
FABIENNE | |
(shaking) | |
No. | |
Butch freaks out, he punches the air. | |
Fabienne SCREAMS and backs into a corner, Butch picks up the | |
motel TV and THROWS IT AGAINST the wall. | |
Fabienne SCREAMS IN HORROR. | |
Butch looks toward her, suddenly calm. | |
BUTCH | |
(to Fabienne) | |
No! It's not your fault. | |
(he approached her) | |
You left it at the apartment. | |
He bends down in front of the woman who has sunk to the floor. | |
He touches her hand, she flinches. | |
BUTCH | |
If you did leave 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 my watch, | |
I should've told you. You ain't a | |
mind reader. | |
He kisses her hand. Then rises. | |
Fabienne is still sniffling. | |
Butch goes to the closet. | |
FABIENNE | |
I'm sorry. | |
Butch puts on his high school jacket. | |
BUTCH | |
Don't be. It just means I won't be | |
able to eat breakfast with you. | |
FABIENNE | |
Why does it mean that? | |
BUTCH | |
Because I'm going back to my apartment | |
to get my watch. | |
FABIENNE | |
Won't the gangsters be looking for | |
you there? | |
BUTCH | |
That's what I'm gonna find out. If | |
they are, and I don't think I can | |
handle it, I'll split. | |
Rising from the floor. | |
FABIENNE | |
I was so dreadful. I saw your watch, | |
I thought I brought it. I'm so sorry. | |
Butch brings her close and puts his hands on her face. | |
BUTCH | |
Don't feel bad, sugar pop. Nothing | |
you could ever do would make me | |
permanently angry at you. | |
(pause) | |
I love you, remember? | |
(he digs some money | |
out of his wallet) | |
Now here's some money, order those | |
pancakes and have a great breakfast. | |
FABIENNE | |
Don't go. | |
BUTCH | |
I'll be back before you can say, | |
blueberry pie. | |
FABIENNE | |
Blueberry pie. | |
BUTCH | |
Well maybe not that fast, but fast. | |
Okay? Okay? | |
FABIENNE | |
Okay. | |
He kisses her once more and heads for the door. | |
BUTCH | |
Bye-bye, sugar pop. | |
FABIENNE | |
Bye. | |
BUTCH | |
I'm gonna take your Honda. | |
FABIENNE | |
Okay. | |
And with that, he's out the door. | |
Fabienne sits on the bed and looks at the money he gave her. | |
INT. HONDA (MOVING) – DAY | |
Butch is beating the steering wheel and the dash with his | |
fists as he drives down the street. | |
BUTCH | |
Of all the fuckin' things she coulda | |
forgot, she forgets my father's watch. | |
I specifically reminded her not to | |
forget it. "Bedside table – on the | |
kangaroo." I said the words: "Don't | |
forget my father's watch." | |
EXT. CITY STREET – DAY | |
The little Honda races toward its destination as fast as is | |
little engine will take it. | |
CUT TO: | |
A parking meter red flag rises up, then out, leaving the | |
arrow pointing at one hour. | |
EXT. RESIDENTIAL STREET CORNER – DAY | |
Butch isn't completely reckless. He has parked his car a | |
couple of blocks from his apartment to check things out before | |
he goes boppin' through the front door. | |
EXT. ALLEY – DAY | |
Butch walks down the alley until he gets to another street, | |
then he discreetly glances out. | |
EXT. STREET – BUTCH'S APARTMENT – DAY | |
Everything seems normal. More or less the right number of | |
cars in the street. None of the parked cars appear out of | |
place. None of them have a couple of goons sitting inside. | |
Basically, it looks like normal morning activity in front of | |
Butch's home. | |
Butch peers around a wall, taking in the vital information. | |
Butch walks out of the alley and is ready for anything. He | |
crosses the street and enters his apartment courtyard. | |
Across the street from Butch's building, on the corner, is a | |
combination donut shop and Japanese restaurant. A big sign | |
sticks up in the air, with the name "Teriyaki Donut" and a | |
graphic of a donut sticking out of a bowl of rice. | |
EXT. BUTCH'S APARTMENT COURTYARD – DAY | |
Butch is in the courtyard of his North Hollywood apartment | |
building. Once again, everything appears normal – the laundry | |
room, the pool, his apartment door – nothing appears | |
disturbed. | |
Butch climbs the stairs leading to his apartment, number 12. | |
He steps outside the door and listens inside. Nothing. | |
Butch slowly inserts the key into the door, quietly opening | |
it. | |
INT. BUTCH'S APARTMENT – DAY | |
His apartment hasn't been touched. | |
He cautiously steps inside, shuts the door and takes a quick | |
look around. Obviously, no one is there. | |
Butch walks into his modest kitchen, and opens the | |
refrigerator. | |
He takes out a carton of milk and drinks from it. | |
With carton in hard, Butch surveys the apartment. Then he | |
goes to the bedroom. | |
His bedroom is like the rest of the apartment – neat, clean | |
and anonymous. The only things personal in his room are a | |
few boxing trophies, an Olympic silver medal, a framed issue | |
of "Ring Magazine" with Butch on the cover, and a poster of | |
Jerry Quarry and one of George Chuvalo. | |
Sure enough, there's the watch just like he said it was: On | |
the bedside table, hanging on his little kangaroo statue. | |
He walks through the apartment and back into the kitchen. He | |
opens a cupboard and takes out a box of Pop Tarts. Putting | |
down the milk, he opens the box, takes out two Pop Tarts and | |
puts them in the toaster. | |
Butch glances to his right, his eyes fall on something. | |
What he sees is a small compact Czech M61 submachine gun | |
with a huge silencer on it, lying on his kitchen counter. | |
BUTCH | |
(softly) | |
Holy shit. | |
He picks up the intimidating peace of weaponry and examines | |
it. | |
Then... a toilet FLUSHES. | |
Butch looks up to the bathroom door, which is parallel to | |
the kitchen. There is someone behind it. | |
Like a rabbit caught in a radish patch, Butch freezes, not | |
knowing what to do. | |
The bathroom door opens and Vincent Vega steps out of the | |
bathroom, tightening his belt. In his hand is the book | |
"MODESTY BLAISE" by Peter O'Donnell. | |
Vincent and Butch lock eyes. | |
Vincent freezes. | |
Butch doesn't move, except to point the M61 in Vincent's | |
direction. | |
Neither man opens his mouth. | |
Then... the toaster LOUDLY kicks up the Pop Tarts. | |
That's all the situation needed. | |
Butch's finger HITS the trigger. | |
MUFFLED FIRE SHOOTS out of the end of the gun. | |
Vincent is seemingly WRACKED with twenty bullets | |
SIMULTANEOUSLY – LIFTING him off his feet, PROPELLING him | |
through the air and CRASHING through the glass shower door | |
at the end of the bathroom. | |
By the time Butch removes his finger from the trigger, Vincent | |
is annihilated. | |
Butch stands frozen, amazed at what just happened. His look | |
goes from the grease spot in the bathroom that was once | |
Vincent, down to the powerful piece of artillery in his grip. | |
With the respect it deserves, Butch carefully places the M61 | |
back on the kitchen counter. | |
Then he exits the apartment, quickly. | |
EXT. APARTMENT COURTYARD – DAY | |
Butch, not running, but walking very rapidly, crosses the | |
courtyard... | |
...comes out of the apartment building, crosses the street... | |
...goes through the alley... | |
...and into his car in one STEADICAM SHOT. | |
EXT. HONDA – DAY | |
Butch CRANKS the car into gear and drives away. The big wide | |
smile of a survivor breaks across his face. | |
EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING STREET – DAY | |
The Honda turns down the alley and slowly cruises by his | |
apartment building. | |
INT. HONDA – DAY | |
Butch looks out the window at his former home. | |
BUTCH | |
That's how you're gonna beat 'em, | |
Butch. They keep underestimatin' | |
ya. | |
This makes the boxer laugh out loud. As he laughs, he flips | |
a tape in the cassette player. When the MUSIC starts, he | |
SINGS along with it. | |
He drives by the apartment, but is stopped at the light on | |
the corner across from Teriyaki Donut. | |
Butch is still chuckling, singing along with the song, as we | |
see: | |
THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD | |
The big man himself, Marsellus Wallace, exit Teriyaki Donut, | |
carrying a box of a dozen donuts and two large styrofoam | |
cups of coffee. He steps off the curb, crossing the street | |
in front of Butch's car. This is the first time we see | |
Marsellus clearly. | |
Laughing boy stops when he sees the big man directly in front | |
of him. | |
When Marsellus is in front of Butch's car, he casually glances | |
to his left, sees Butch, continues walking... then STOPS! | |
DOUBLE-TAKE: "Am I really seeing what I'm seeing?" | |
Butch doesn't wait for the big man to answer his own question. | |
He STOMPS on the gas pedal. | |
The little Honda SLAMS into Marsellus, sending him, the donuts | |
and the coffee HITTING the pavement at thirty miles an hour. | |
Butch CUTS into cross traffic and is BROAD-SIDED by a gold | |
Camaro Z-28, BREAKING all the windows in the Honda and sending | |
it up on the sidewalk. | |
Butch sits dazed and confused in the crumpled mess of what | |
at one time was Fabienne's Honda. Blood flows from his | |
nostrils. The still-functional tape player continues to play. | |
A PEDESTRIAN pokes his head inside. | |
PEDESTRIAN | |
Jesus, are you okay? | |
Butch look at him, spaced-out. | |
BUTCH | |
I guess. | |
Marsellus Wallace lies sprawled out in the street. GAWKERS | |
gather around the body. | |
GAWKER #1 | |
(to the others) | |
He's dead! He's dead! | |
This jerk's yelling makes Marsellus come to. | |
TWO PEDESTRIANS help the shaken Butch out of the wreckage. | |
The woozy Marsellus gets to his feet. | |
GAWKER #2 | |
If you need a witness in court, I'll | |
be glad to help. He was a drunken | |
maniac. He hit you and crashed into | |
that car. | |
MARSELLUS | |
(still incoherent) | |
Who? | |
GAWKER #2 | |
(pointing at Butch) | |
Him. | |
Marsellus follows the Gawker's finger and sees Butch Coolidge | |
down the street, looking a shambles. | |
MARSELLUS | |
Well, I'll be damned. | |
The big man takes out a .45 Automatic and the Gawkers back | |
away. | |
Marsellus starts moving toward Butch. | |
Butch sees the fierce figure making a wobbly bee-line toward | |
him. | |
BUTCH | |
Sacre bleu. | |
Marsellus brings up his weapon and FIRES, but he's so hurt, | |
shaky and dazed that his arm goes wild. | |
He HITS a LOOKY-LOO WOMAN in the hip. She falls to the ground, | |
screaming. | |
LOOKY-LOO WOMAN | |
Oh my God, I've been shot! | |
That's all Butch needs to see. He's outta here. | |
Marsellus RUNS after him. | |
The CROWD looks agape. | |
Butch is in a mad, limping RUN. | |
The big man's hot on his ass with a cockeyed wobbly run. | |
Butch cuts across traffic and dashes into a business with a | |
sign that reads "MASON-DIXIE PAWNSHOP". | |
INT. MASON-DIXIE PAWNSHOP – DAY | |
MAYNARD, a hillbilly-lookin' boy, stands behind the counter | |
of his pawnshop when, all of a sudden, chaos in the form of | |
Butch RACES into his world. | |
MAYNARD | |
Can I help you wit' somethin'? | |
BUTCH | |
Shut up! | |
Butch quickly takes measure of the situation, than stands | |
next to the door. | |
MAYNARD | |
Now you just wait one goddamn minute | |
– | |
Before Maynard can finish his threat, Marsellus CHARGES in. | |
He doesn't get past the doorway because Butch LANDS his fist | |
in Marsellus' face. | |
The gangster's feet go out from under him and the big man | |
FALLS FLAT on his back. | |
Outside, two police cars with their SIRENS BLARING race by. | |
Butch POUNCES on the fallen body, PUNCHING him twice more in | |
the face. | |
Butch takes the gun out of Marsellus' hand, than grabs ahold | |
of his middle finger. | |
BUTCH | |
So you like chasing people, huh? | |
He BREAKS the finger. Marsellus lets out a pain sound. Butch | |
then places the barrel of the .45 between his eyes, PULLS | |
back the hammer and places his open hand behind the gun to | |
shield the splatter. | |
BUTCH | |
Well guess what, big man, you caught | |
me – | |
MAYNARD (O.S.) | |
– hold it right there, godammit! | |
Butch and Marsellus look up at Maynard, who's brandishing a | |
pumpaction shotgun, aimed at the two men. | |
BUTCH | |
Look mister, this ain't any of your | |
business – | |
MAYNARD | |
– I'm makin' it my business! Now | |
toss that gun! | |
Butch does. | |
MAYNARD | |
Now you on top, stand up and come to | |
the counter. | |
Butch slowly gets up and moves to the counter. As soon as he | |
gets there, Maynard HAULS OFF, HITTING him hard in the face | |
with the butt of the shotgun, knocking Butch down and out. | |
After Butch goes down, Maynard calmly lays the shotgun on | |
the counter and moves to the telephone. | |
Marsellus Wallace, from his position on the floor, groggily | |
watches the pawnshop owner dial a number. Maynard waits on | |
the line while the other end rings. Then it picks up. | |
MAYNARD | |
Zed? It's Maynard. The spider just | |
caught a coupl'a flies. | |
Marsellus passes out. | |
FADE TO BLACK | |
FADE UP: | |
INT. PAWNSHOP BACK ROOM – DAY | |
TWO SHOT – BUTCH AND MARSELLUS | |
They are tied up in two separate chairs. In their mouths are | |
two S&M-style ball gags (a belt goes around their heads and | |
a little red ball sticks in their mouths). Both men are | |
unconscious. | |
Maynard steps in with a fire extinguisher and SPRAYS both | |
guys until they're wide awake and wet as otters. The two | |
prisoners look up at their captors. | |
Maynard stands in front of them, fire extinguisher in one | |
hand, shotgun in the other, and Marsellus' .45 sticking in | |
his belt. | |
MAYNARD | |
Nobody kills anybody in my place of | |
business except me or Zed. | |
A BUZZER buzzes. | |
MAYNARD | |
That's Zed. | |
Without saying another word, Maynard climbs up the stairs | |
that lead to red curtains and goes through them. | |
WE HEAR, on the other side of the curtains, Maynard let Zed | |
inside the store. | |
Butch and Marsellus look around the room. The basement of | |
the pawnshop has been converted into a dungeon. After taking | |
in their predicament, Butch and Marsellus look at each other, | |
all traces of hostility gone, replaced by a terror they both | |
share at what they've gotten themselves into. | |
Maynard and ZED come through the curtains. Zed is an even | |
more intense version of Maynard, if such a thing is possible. | |
The two hillbillys are obviously brothers. Where Maynard is | |
a vicious pitbull, Zed is a deadly cobra. Zed walks in and | |
stands in front of the two captives. He inspects them for a | |
long time, then says: | |
ZED | |
(to Maynard) | |
You said you waited for me? | |
MAYNARD | |
I did. | |
ZED | |
Then how come they're all beat up? | |
MAYNARD | |
They did that to each other. They | |
was fightin' when they came in. This | |
one was gonna shoot that one. | |
ZED | |
(to Butch) | |
You were gonna shoot him? | |
Butch makes no reply. | |
ZED | |
Hey, is Grace gonna be okay in front | |
of this place? | |
MAYNARD | |
Yeah, it ain't Tuesday is it? | |
ZED | |
No, it's Thursday. | |
MAYNARD | |
Then she'll be fine. | |
ZED | |
Bring out The Gimp. | |
MAYNARD | |
I think The Gimp's sleepin'. | |
ZED | |
Well, I guess you'll just wake 'em | |
up then, won't you? | |
Maynard opens a trap door in the floor. | |
MAYNARD | |
(yelling in the hole) | |
Wake up! | |
Maynard reaches into the hole and comes back holding onto a | |
leash. | |
He gives it a rough yank and, from below the floor, rises | |
THE GIMP. | |
The Gimp is a man they keep dressed from head to toe in black | |
leather bondage gear. There are zippers, buckles and studs | |
here and there on the body. On his head is a black leather | |
mask with two eye holes and a zipper (closed) for a mouth. | |
They keep him in a hole in the floor big enough for a large | |
dog. | |
Zed takes the chair, sits it in front of the two prisoners, | |
then lowers into it. Maynard hands The Gimp's leash to Zed, | |
then backs away. | |
MAYNARD | |
(to The Gimp) | |
Down! | |
The Gimp gets on its knees. | |
Maynard hangs back while Zed appraises the two men. | |
MAYNARD | |
Who's first? | |
ZED | |
I ain't fer sure yet. | |
Then with his little finger, Zed does a silent "Eenie, meany, | |
miney, moe... " just his mouth mouthing the words and his | |
finger going back and forth between the two. | |
Butch are Marsellus are terrified. | |
Maynard looks back and forth at the victims. | |
The Gimps's eyes go from one to the other inside the mask. | |
Zed continues his silent sing-song with his finger moving | |
left to right, then it stops. | |
TWO SHOT – BUTCH AND MARSELLUS | |
After a beat, THE CAMERA MOVES to the right, zeroing in on | |
Marsellus. | |
Zed stands up. | |
ZED | |
Wanna do it here? | |
MAYNARD | |
Naw, drag big boy to Russell's old | |
room. | |
Zed grabs Marsellus' chair and DRAGS him into Russell's old | |
room. | |
Russell, no doubt, was some other poor bastard that has the | |
misfortune of stumbling into the Mason-Dixie pawnshop. | |
Whatever happened to Russell is known only to Maynard and | |
Zed because his old room, a back room in the back of the | |
back room, is empty. | |
As Marsellus is dragged away, he locks eyes with Butch before | |
he disappears behind the door of Russell's old room. | |
MAYNARD | |
(to The Gimp) | |
Up! | |
The Gimp rises. Maynard ties The Gimp's leash to a hook on | |
the ceiling. | |
MAYNARD | |
Keep an eye on this one. | |
The Gimp bows its head: "yes." Maynard disappears into | |
Russell's old room. There must be a stereo in there because | |
suddenly The Judds, singing in harmony, fills the air. | |
Butch looks at The Gimp. The Gimp giggles from underneath | |
the mask as if this were the funniest moment in the history | |
of comedy. | |
From behind the door we hear country MUSIC, struggling, and: | |
MAYNARD (O.S.) | |
Whoa, this boy's got a bit of fight | |
in 'em! | |
We the HEAR Maynard and Zed beat on Marsellus. | |
ZED (O.S.) | |
You wanna fight? You wanna fight? | |
Good, I like to fight! | |
Butch pauses, listens to the voices. Then, in a panic, | |
hurriedly struggles to get free. | |
The Gimp is laughing wildly. | |
The ropes are on too tight and Butch can't break free. | |
The Gimp slaps his knee laughing In the back room, we hear: | |
MAYNARD (O.S.) | |
That's it... that's it boy, you're | |
goin' fine. Oooooooh, just like | |
that... that's good. | |
(grunting faster) | |
Stay still... stay still goddamn ya! | |
Zed goddammit, git over here and | |
hold 'em! | |
Butch stops struggling and lifts up on his arms. Then, quite | |
easily, the padded chair back slides up and off as if it | |
were never connected by a bolt. | |
The Gimp sees this and its eyes widen. | |
THE GIMP | |
Huhng? | |
The Gimp FLAILS WILDLY, trying to get the leash off the hook. | |
He tries to yell, but all that comes out are excited gurgles | |
and grunts. | |
Butch is out of his chair, quickly dispensing three BOXER'S | |
PUNCHES to its face. The punches knock The Gimp out, making | |
him fall to his knees, this HANGING HIMSELF by the leash | |
attached to the hook, Butch removes the ball gag, then | |
silently makes his way through the red curtains. | |
INT. PAWNSHOP – DAY | |
Butch sneaks to the door. | |
On the counter is a big set of keys with a large Z connected | |
to the ring. Grabbing them, he's about to go out when he | |
stops and listens to the hillbilly psychopaths having their | |
way with Marsellus. | |
Butch decides for the life of him, he can't leave anybody in | |
a situation like that. Se he begins rooting around the | |
pawnshop for a weapon to bash those hillbillies' heads in | |
with. | |
He picks up a big destructive-looking hammer, then discards | |
it: Not destructive enough. He picks up a chainsaw, thinks | |
about it for a moment, then puts it back. Next, a large | |
Louisville slugger he tries on for size. But then he spots | |
what he's been looking for: | |
A Samurai sword. | |
It hands in its hand-carved wood sheath from a nail on the | |
wall, next to a neon "DAD'S OLD-FASHIONED ROOT BEER" sign. | |
Butch takes the sword off the wall, removing it from its | |
sheath. It's a magnificent piece of steel. It seems to glisten | |
in the low-wattage light of the pawnshop. Butch touches his | |
thumb to the blade to see if the sword is just for show. Not | |
on your life. It's as sharp as it gets. This weapon seems | |
made to order for the Brothers Grimm downstairs. Holding the | |
sword pointed downward, Takakura Kenstyle, he disappears | |
through the red curtains to take care of business. | |
INT. PAWNSHOP BACK ROOM – DAY | |
Butch quietly sneaks down the stairs leading to the dungeon. | |
Sodomy and the Judds can still be heard going string behind | |
the closed door that leads to Russell's old room. | |
INT. RUSSELL'S OLD ROOM – DAY | |
Butch's hand comes into frame, pushing the door open. It | |
swings open silently, revealing the rapists, who have switched | |
positions. | |
Zed is now bent over Marsellus, who is bent over a wooden | |
horse. | |
Maynard watches. Both have their backs to Butch. | |
Maynard faces the CAMERA, grinning, while Butch comes up | |
behind him with the sword. | |
Miserable, violated, and looking like a rag doll, Marsellus, | |
red ball gag still in mouth, opens his watery eyes to see | |
Butch coming up behind Maynard. His eyes widen. | |
BUTCH | |
Hey hillbilly. | |
Maynard turns and sees Butch holding the sword. | |
Butch SCREAMS... with one mighty SWING, SLASHES Maynard across | |
the front, moving past him, eyes and blade now locked on | |
Zed. | |
Maynard stands trembling, his front sliced open, in shock. | |
Butch, while never taking his eyes off Zed, THRUSTS the sword | |
behind him, SKEWERING Maynard, then EXTRACTS it, pointing | |
the blade toward Zed. Maynard COLLAPSES. | |
Zed disengages from Marsellus in a hurry and his eyes go | |
from the tip of Butch's sword to Marsellus' .45 Automatic, | |
which lies within reach. | |
Butch's eyes follow Zed's. | |
BUTCH | |
You want that gun, Zed? Pick it up. | |
Zed's hand inches toward the weapon. | |
Butch GRIPS the sword tighter. | |
Zed studies Butch. | |
Butch looks hard at Zed. | |
Then a VOICE says: | |
MARSELLUS (O.S.) | |
Step aside, Butch. | |
Butch steps aside, REVEALING Marsellus standing behind him, | |
holding Maynard's pump-action shotgun. | |
KABOOM!!!! | |
Zed is BLASTED in the groin. Down he goes, SCREAMING in AGONY. | |
Marsellus, looking down at his whimpering rapist, EJECTS the | |
used shotgun shell. | |
Butch lowers the sword and hangs back. Not a word, until: | |
BUTCH | |
You okay? | |
MARSELLUS | |
Naw man. I'm pretty fuckin' far from | |
okay! | |
Long pause. | |
BUTCH | |
What now? | |
MARSELLUS | |
What now? Well let me tell you what | |
now. I'm gonna call a couple pipe- | |
hittin' niggers, who'll go to work | |
on homes here with a pair of pliers | |
and a blow torch. | |
(to Zed) | |
Hear me talkin' hillbilly boy?! I | |
ain't through with you by a damn | |
sight. I'm gonna git Medieval on | |
your ass. | |
BUTCH | |
I meant what now, between me and | |
you? | |
MARSELLUS | |
Oh, that what now? Well, let me tell | |
ya what now between me an' you. There | |
is no me an' you. Not no more. | |
BUTCH | |
So we're cool? | |
MARSELLUS | |
Yeah man, we're cool. One thing I | |
ask – two things I ask: Don't tell | |
nobody about this. This shit's between | |
me and you and the soon-to-be-livin'- | |
the-rest-of-his-short-ass-life-in- | |
agonizing-pain, Mr. Rapist here. It | |
ain't nobody else's business. Two: | |
leave town. Tonight. Right now. And | |
when you're gone, stay gone. You've | |
lost your Los Angeles privileges. | |
Deal? | |
BUTCH | |
Deal. | |
The two men shake hands, then hug one another. | |
MARSELLUS | |
Go on now, get your ass outta here. | |
Butch leaves Russell's old room through the red curtains. | |
Marsellus walks over to a phone, dialing a number. | |
MARSELLUS | |
(into the phone) | |
Hello Mr. Wolf, it's Marsellus. Gotta | |
bit of a situation. | |
EXT. MASON-DIXIE PAWNSHOP – DAY | |
Butch, still shaking in his boots, exits the pawnshop. He | |
looks ahead and sees, parked in front of the establishment, | |
Zed's Big Chrome Chopper with a teardrop gas tank that has | |
the name "GRACE" on it. He climbs aboard, takes out the keys | |
with the big Z on them and starts up the huge hog. It RUMBLES | |
to life, making sounds like a rocket fighting for orbit. | |
Butch twists the accelerator handle and SPEEDS off. | |
WE CUT BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN... | |
INT. BUTCH AND FABIENNE'S HOTEL ROOM – DAY | |
Fabienne stands in front of a mirror wearing a "Frankie says, | |
Relax" tee-shirt, singing along with MUSIC coming from a | |
BOOM BOX. | |
EXT. CITY STREET – CHOPPER (MOVING) – DAY | |
Butch drives down the street, humping a hot hog named "GRACE." | |
He checks his father's watch. It says: 10:30. | |
The SONG in the motel room PLAYS OVER this. | |
EXT. MOTEL ROOM – DAY | |
Butch rides up on Grace. He hops off and runs inside the | |
motel room, while we stay outside with the bike. | |
FABIENNE (O.S.) | |
Butch, I was so worried! | |
BUTCH | |
Honey, grab your radio and your purse | |
and let's go! | |
FABIENNE (O.S.) | |
But what about all our bags? | |
BUTCH | |
Fuck the bags. We'll miss our train | |
if we don't split now. | |
FABIENNE (O.S.) | |
Is everything well? Are we in danger? | |
BUTCH | |
We're cool. In fact, we're super- | |
cool. But we gots to go. I'll wait | |
for you outside. | |
Butch runs out and hops back on the bike. Fabienne exits the | |
motel room with the boom box and a large purse. When she | |
sees Butch on the chopper, she stops dead. | |
FABIENNE | |
Where did you get this motorcycle? | |
BUTCH | |
(he kick-starts it) | |
It's a chopper, baby, hop on. | |
Fabienne slowly approaches the two-wheel demon. | |
FABIENNE | |
What happened to my Honda? | |
BUTCH | |
Sorry baby, I crashed the Honda. | |
FABIENNE | |
You're hurt? | |
BUTCH | |
I might've broke my nose, no biggie. | |
Hop on. | |
She doesn't move. | |
Butch looks at her. | |
BUTCH | |
Honey, we gotta hit the fuckin' road! | |
Fabienne starts to cry. | |
Butch realizes that this is not the way to get her on the | |
bike. He turns off the engine and reaches out, taking her | |
hand. | |
BUTCH | |
I'm sorry, baby-love. | |
FABIENNE | |
(crying) | |
You were gone so long, I started to | |
think dreadful thoughts. | |
BUTCH | |
I'm sorry I worried you, sweetie. | |
Everything's fine. Hey, how was | |
breakfast? | |
FABIENNE | |
(waterworks drying a | |
little) | |
It was good – | |
BUTCH | |
– did you get the blueberry pancakes? | |
FABIENNE | |
No, they didn't have blueberry | |
pancakes, I had to get buttermilk – | |
are you sure you're okay? | |
BUTCH | |
Baby-love, from the moment I left | |
you, this has been without a doubt | |
the single weirdest day of my entire | |
life. Climb on an' I'll tell ya about | |
it. | |
Fabienne does climb on. Butch STARTS her up. | |
FABIENNE | |
Butch, whose motorcycle is this? | |
BUTCH | |
It's a chopper. | |
FABIENNE | |
Whose chopper is this? | |
BUTCH | |
Zed's. | |
FABIENNE | |
Who's Zed? | |
BUTCH | |
Zed's dead, baby, Zed's dead. | |
And with that, the two lovebirds PEEL AWAY on Grace, as the | |
SONG on the BOOM BOX RISES. | |
FADE TO BLACK | |
TITLE CARD: | |
"JULES VINCENT JIMMIE & THE WOLF" | |
TITLE DISAPPEARS. | |
Over black, we can HEAR in the distance, men talking. | |
JULES (O.S.) | |
You ever read the Bible, Brett? | |
BRETT (O.S.) | |
Yes! | |
JULES (O.S.) | |
There's a passage I got memorized, | |
seems appropriate for this situation: | |
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..." | |
FADE UP: | |
INT. BATHROOM – DAY | |
We're in the bathroom of the Hollywood apartment we were in | |
earlier. In fact, we're there at exactly the same time. Except | |
this time, we're in the bathroom with the FOURTH MAN. The | |
Fourth Man is pacing around the small room, listening hard | |
to what's being said on the other side of the door, tightly | |
CLUTCHING his huge silver .357 Magnum. | |
JULES (O.S.) | |
"...blessed is he who, in the name | |
of charity and good will, shepherded | |
the weak through the valley of | |
darkness. 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." | |
BANG! BANG! BOOM! POW! BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM! | |
The Fourth Man freaks out. He THROWS himself against the | |
back wall, gun outstretched in front of him, a look of yellow | |
fear on his face, ready to blow in half anybody fool enough | |
to stick their head through that door. | |
Then he listens to them talk. | |
VINCENT (O.S.) | |
Friend of yours? | |
JULES (O.S.) | |
Yeah, Marvin-Vincent-Vincent-Marvin. | |
Waiting for them isn't the smartest move. Bursting out the | |
door and blowing them all away while they're fuckin' around | |
is the way to go. | |
INT. APARTMENT – DAY | |
The bathroom door BURSTS OPEN and the Fourth Man CHARGES | |
out, silver Magnum raised, FIRING SIX BOOMING SHOTS from his | |
hand cannon. | |
FOURTH MAN | |
Die... die... die... die...! | |
DOLLY INTO Fourth Man, same as before. | |
He SCREAM until he's dry firing. Then a look of confusion | |
crosses his face. | |
TWO SHOT – JULES AND VINCENT | |
Standing next to each other, unharmed. Amazing as it seems, | |
none of the Fourth Man's shots appear to have hit anybody. | |
Jules and Vincent exchange looks like, "Are we hit?" They're | |
as confused at the shooter. After looking at each other, | |
they bring their looks up to the Fourth Man. | |
FOURTH MAN | |
I don't understand – | |
The Fourth Man is taken out of the scenario by the two men's | |
bullets who, unlike his, HIT their marks. He drops DEAD. | |
The two men lower their guns. Jules, obviously shaken, sits | |
down in a chair. Vincent, after a moment of respect, shrugs | |
it off. | |
Then heads toward Marvin in the corner. | |
VINCENT | |
Why the fuck didn't you tell us about | |
that guy in the bathroom? Slip your | |
mind? Forget he was in there with a | |
goddamn hand cannon? | |
JULES | |
(to himself) | |
We should be fuckin' dead right now. | |
(pause) | |
Did you see that gun he fired at us? | |
It was bigger than him. | |
VINCENT | |
.357. | |
JULES | |
We should be fuckin' dead! | |
VINCENT | |
Yeah, we were lucky. | |
Jules rises, moving toward Vincent. | |
JULES | |
That shit wasn't luck. That shit was | |
somethin' else. | |
Vincent prepares to leave. | |
VINCENT | |
Yeah, maybe. | |
JULES | |
That was... divine intervention. You | |
know what divine intervention is? | |
VINCENT | |
Yeah, I think so. That means God | |
came down from Heaven and stopped | |
the bullets. | |
JULES | |
Yeah, man, that's what is means. | |
That's exactly what it means! God | |
came down from Heaven and stopped | |
the bullets. | |
VINCENT | |
I think we should be going now. | |
JULES | |
Don't do that! Don't you fuckin' do | |
that! Don't blow this shit off! | |
What just happened was a fuckin' | |
miracle! | |
VINCENT | |
Chill the fuck out, Jules, this shit | |
happens. | |
JULES | |
Wrong, wrong, this shit doesn't just | |
happen. | |
VINCENT | |
Do you wanna continue this theological | |
discussion in the car, or at the | |
jailhouse with the cops? | |
JULES | |
We should be fuckin' dead now, my | |
friend! We just witnessed a miracle, | |
and I want you to fuckin' acknowledge | |
it! | |
VINCENT | |
Okay man, it was a miracle, can we | |
leave now? | |
EXT. HOLLYWOOD APARTMENT BUILDING – MORNING | |
The Chevy Nova PROPELS itself into traffic. | |
INT. NOVA (MOVING) – MORNING | |
Jules is behind the wheel,Vincent in the passenger seat and | |
Marvin in the back. | |
VINCENT | |
...Ever seen that show "COPS?" I | |
was watchin' it once and this cop | |
was on it who was talkin' about this | |
time he got into this gun fight with | |
a guy in a hallway. He unloads on | |
this guy and he doesn't hit anything. | |
And these guys were in a hallway. | |
It's a freak, but it happens. | |
JULES | |
If you wanna play blind man, then go | |
walk with a Shepherd. But me, my | |
eyes are wide fuckin' open. | |
VINCENT | |
What the fuck does that mean? | |
JULES | |
That's it for me. For here on in, | |
you can consider my ass retired. | |
VINCENT | |
Jesus Christ! | |
JULES | |
Don't blaspheme! | |
VINCENT | |
Goddammit, Jules – | |
JULES | |
– I said don't do that – | |
VINCENT | |
– you're fuckin' freakin' out! | |
JULES | |
I'm tellin' Marsellus today I'm | |
through. | |
VINCENT | |
While you're at it, be sure to tell | |
'im why. | |
JULES | |
Don't worry, I will. | |
VINCENT | |
I'll bet ya ten thousand dollars, he | |
laughs his ass off. | |
JULES | |
I don't give a damn if he does. | |
Vincent turns to the backseat with the .45 casually in his | |
grip. | |
VINCENT | |
Marvin, what do you make of all this? | |
MARVIN | |
I don't even have an opinion. | |
VINCENT | |
C'mon, Marvin. Do you think God came | |
down from Heaven and stopped the | |
bullets? | |
Vincent's .45 goes BANG! | |
Marvin is hit in the upper chest, below the throat. He GURGLES | |
blood and SHAKES. | |
JULES | |
What the fuck's happening? | |
VINCENT | |
I just accidentally shot Marvin in | |
the throat. | |
JULES | |
Why the fuck did you do that? | |
VINCENT | |
I didn't mean to do it. I said it | |
was an accident. | |
JULES | |
I've seen a lot of crazy-ass shit in | |
my time – | |
VINCENT | |
– chill out, man, it was an accident, | |
okay? You hit a bump or somethin' | |
and the gun went off. | |
JULES | |
The car didn't hit no motherfuckin' | |
bump! | |
VINCENT | |
Look! I didn't mean to shoot this | |
son-ofa-bitch, the gun just went | |
off, don't ask me how! | |
JULES | |
Look at this mess! We're drivin' | |
around on a city street in broad | |
daylight – | |
VINCENT | |
– I know, I know, I wasn't thinkin' | |
about the splatter. | |
JULES | |
Well you better be thinkin' about it | |
now, motherfucker! We gotta get this | |
car off the road. Cops tend to notice | |
shit like you're driving a car | |
drenched in fuckin' blood. | |
VINCENT | |
Can't we just take it to a friendly | |
place? | |
JULES | |
This is the Valley, Vincent. Marsellus | |
don't got no friendly places in the | |
Valley. | |
VINCENT | |
Well, don't look at me, this is your | |
town, Jules. | |
Jules takes out a cellular phone and starts punching digits. | |
VINCENT | |
Who ya callin'? | |
JULES | |
A buddy of mine in Toluca Lake. | |
VINCENT | |
Where's Toluca Lake. | |
JULES | |
On the other side of the hill, by | |
Burbank Studios. If Jimmie's ass | |
ain't home, I don't know what the | |
fuck we're gonna go. I ain't got any | |
other partners in 818. | |
(into phone) | |
Jimmie! How you doin' man, it's Jules. | |
(pause) | |
Listen up man, me an' my homeboy are | |
in some serious shit. We're in a car | |
we gotta get off the road, pronto! I | |
need to use your garage for a couple | |
hours. | |
INT. JIMMIE'S BATHROOM – DAY | |
Jules is bent over a sink, washing his bloody hands while | |
Vincent stands behind him. | |
JULES | |
We gotta be real fuckin' delicate | |
with this Jimmie's situation. He's | |
one remark away from kickin' our | |
asses out the door. | |
VINCENT | |
If he kicks us out, whadda we do? | |
JULES | |
Well, we ain't leavin' 'til we made | |
a couple phone calls. But I never | |
want it to reach that pitch. Jimmie's | |
my friend and you don't bust in your | |
friend's house and start tellin' 'im | |
what's what. | |
Jules rises and dries his hands. Vincent takes his place at | |
the sink. | |
VINCENT | |
Just tell 'im not to be abusive. He | |
kinda freaked out back there when he | |
saw Marvin. | |
JULES | |
Put yourself in his position. It's | |
eight o'clock in the morning. He | |
just woke up, he wasn't prepared for | |
this shit. Don't forget who's doin' | |
who a favor. | |
Vincent finishes, then dries his hands on a white towel. | |
VINCENT | |
If the price of that favor is I gotta | |
take shit, he can stick his favor | |
straight up his ass. | |
When Vincent is finished drying his hands, the towel is | |
stained with red. | |
JULES | |
What the fuck did you just do to his | |
towel? | |
VINCENT | |
I was just dryin' my hands. | |
JULES | |
You're supposed to wash 'em first. | |
VINCENT | |
You watched me wash 'em. | |
JULES | |
I watched you get 'em wet. | |
VINCENT | |
I washed 'em. Blood's real hard to | |
get off. Maybe if he had some Lava, | |
I coulda done a better job. | |
JULES | |
I used the same soap you did and | |
when I dried my hands, the towel | |
didn't look like a fuckin' Maxie | |
pad. Look, fuck it, alright. Who | |
cares? But it's shit like this that's | |
gonna bring this situation to a boil. | |
If he were to come in here and see | |
that towel like that... I'm tellin' | |
you Vincent, you best be cool. 'Cause | |
if I gotta get in to it with Jimmie | |
on account of you... Look, I ain't | |
threatenin' you, I respect you an' | |
all, just don't put me in that | |
position. | |
JULES | |
Jules, you ask me nice like that, no | |
problem. He's your friend, you handle | |
him. | |
INT. JIMMIE'S KITCHEN – MORNING | |
Three men are standing in Jimmie's kitchen, each with a mug | |
of coffee. Jules, Vincent and JIMMIE DIMMICK, a young man in | |
his late 20s dressed in a bathrobe. | |
JULES | |
Goddamn Jimmie, this is some serious | |
gourmet shit. Me an' Vincent woulda | |
been satisfied with freeze-dried | |
Tasters Choice. You spring this | |
gourmet fuckin' shit on us. What | |
flavor is this? | |
JIMMIE | |
Knock it off, Julie. | |
JULES | |
What? | |
JIMMIE | |
I'm not a cobb or corn, so you can | |
stop butterin' me up. I don't need | |
you to tell me how good my coffee | |
is. I'm the one who buys it, I know | |
how fuckin' good it is. When Bonnie | |
goes shoppin;, she buys shit. I buy | |
the gourmet expensive stuff 'cause | |
when I drink it, I wanna taste it. | |
But what's on my mind at this moment | |
isn't the coffee in my kitchen, it's | |
the dead nigger in my garage. | |
JULES | |
Jimmie – | |
JIMMIE | |
– I'm talkin'. Now let me ask you a | |
question, Jules. When you drove in | |
here, did you notice a sign out front | |
that said, "Dead nigger storage?" | |
Jules starts to "Jimmie" him – | |
JIMMIE | |
– answer to question. Did you see a | |
sign out in front of my house that | |
said, "Dead nigger storage?" | |
JULES | |
(playing along) | |
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! | |
Jules starts to "Jimmie" him. | |
JIMMIE | |
– I ain't through! Now don't you | |
understand that if Bonnie comes home | |
and finds a dead body in her house, | |
I'm gonna get divorced. No marriage | |
counselor, no trial separation – | |
fuckin' divorced. And I don't wanna | |
get fuckin' divorced. The last time | |
me an' Bonnie talked about this shit | |
was gonna be the last time me an' | |
Bonnie talked about this shit. Now I | |
wanna help ya out Julie, I really | |
do. But I ain't gonna lose my wife | |
doin' it. | |
JULES | |
Jimmie – | |
JIMMIE | |
– don't fuckin' Jimmie me, man, I | |
can't be Jimmied. There's nothin' | |
you can say that's gonna make me | |
forget I love my wife. Now she's | |
workin' the graveyard shift at the | |
hospital. She'll be comin' home in | |
less than an hour and a half. Make | |
your phone calls, talk to your people, | |
than get the fuck out of my house. | |
JULES | |
That's all we want. We don't wanna | |
fuck up your shit. We just need to | |
call our people to bring us in. | |
JIMMIE | |
Then I suggest you get to it. Phone's | |
in my bedroom. | |
INT. MARSELLUS WALLACE'S DINING ROOM – MORNING | |
Marsellus Wallace sits at his dining table in a big comfy | |
robe, eating his large breakfast, while talking on the phone. | |
MARSELLUS | |
...well, say she comes home. Whaddya | |
think she'll do? | |
(pause) | |
No fuckin' shit she'll freak. That | |
ain't no kinda answer. You know 'er, | |
I don't. How bad, a lot or a little? | |
INT. JIMMIE'S BEDROOM – MORNING | |
Jules paces around in Jimmie's bedroom on the phone. | |
JULES | |
You got to appreciate what an | |
explosive element this Bonnie | |
situation is. If she comes home from | |
a hard day's work and finds a bunch | |
of gangsters doin' a bunch of gangsta' | |
shit in her kitchen, ain't no tellin' | |
what she's apt to do. | |
MARSELLUS | |
I've grasped that, Jules. All I'm | |
doin' is contemplating the "ifs." | |
JULES | |
I don't wanna hear about no | |
motherfuckin' "ifs."What I wanna | |
hear from your ass is: "you ain't | |
got no problems, Jules. I'm on the | |
motherfucker. Go back in there, chill | |
them niggers out and wait for the | |
cavalry, which should be comin' | |
directly." | |
MARSELLUS | |
You ain't got no problems, Jules. | |
I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in | |
there, chill them niggers out and | |
wait for The Wolf, who should be | |
comin' directly. | |
JULES | |
You sendin' The Wolf? | |
MARSELLUS | |
Feel better? | |
JULES | |
Shit Negro, that's all you had to | |
say. | |
INT. HOTEL SUITE – MORNING | |
The CAMERA looks through the bedroom doorway of a hotel suite | |
into the main area. We SEE a crap game being played on a | |
fancy crap table by GAMBLERS in tuxedos and LUCKY LADIES in | |
fancy evening gowns. The CAMERA PANS to the right revealing: | |
Sitting on a bed, phone in hand with his back to us, the | |
tuxedo-clad WINSTON WOLF aka "THE WOLF". We also see The | |
Wolf has a small notepad that he jots details in. | |
THE WOLF | |
(into phone) | |
Is she the hysterical type? | |
(pause) | |
When she due? | |
(jotting down) | |
Give me the principals' names again? | |
(jots down) | |
Jules... | |
We SEE his book. The page has written on it: | |
"1265 Riverside Drive Toluca Lake 1 body (no head) | |
Bloody shot-up car Jules (black)" | |
THE WOLF | |
...Vincent... Jimmie... Bonnie... | |
HE WRITES: | |
"Vincent (Dean Martin) Jimmie (house) Bonnie (9:30)" | |
THE WOLF | |
Expect a call around 10:30. It's | |
about thirty minutes away. I'll be | |
there in ten. | |
He hangs up. We never see his face. | |
CUT TO: | |
TITLE CARD OVER BLACK: | |
"NINE MINUTES AND THIRTY-SEVEN SECONDS LATER" | |
CUT TO: | |
EXT. JIMMIE'S STREET – MORNING | |
A silver Porsche WHIPS the corner leading to Jimmie's home, | |
in HYPER DRIVE. Easily doing 135 mph, the Porsche stops on a | |
dime in front of Jimmie's house. | |
A ringed finger touches the doorbell: DING DONG. | |
INT. JIMMIE'S HOUSE – MORNING | |
Jimmie opens the door. We see, standing in the doorway, the | |
tuxedo-clad man. He looks down to his notebook, then up at | |
Jimmie. | |
THE WOLF | |
You're Jimmie, right? This is your | |
house? | |
JIMMIE | |
Yeah. | |
THE WOLF | |
(stick his hand out) | |
I'm Winston Wolf, I solve problems. | |
JIMMIE | |
Good, 'cause we got one. | |
THE WOLF | |
So I heard. May I come in? | |
JIMMIE | |
Please do. | |
In the dining room, Jules and Vincent stand up. | |
THE WOLF | |
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? | |
JIMMIE | |
100%. | |
THE WOLF | |
Your wife, Bonnie... | |
(refers to his pad) | |
...comes home at 9:30 in the AM, is | |
that correct? | |
JIMMIE | |
Uh-huh. | |
THE WOLF | |
I was led to believe if she comes | |
home and finds us here, she wouldn't | |
appreciate it none too much. | |
JIMMIE | |
She won't at that. | |
THE WOLF | |
That gives us forty minutes to get | |
the fuck outta Dodge, which, if you | |
do what I say when I say it, should | |
by plenty. Now you got a corpse in a | |
car, minus a head, in a garage. Take | |
me to it. | |
INT. JIMMIE'S GARAGE – MORNING | |
The three men hang back as The Wolf examines the car. He | |
studies the car in silence, opening the door, looking inside, | |
circling it. | |
THE WOLF | |
Jimmie? | |
JIMMIE | |
Yes. | |
THE WOLF | |
Do me a favor, will ya? Thought I | |
smelled some coffee in there. Would | |
you make me a cup? | |
JIMMIE | |
Sure, how do you take it? | |
THE WOLF | |
Lotsa cream, lotsa sugar. | |
Jimmie exists. The Wolf continues his examination. | |
THE WOLF | |
About the car, is there anything I | |
need to know? Does it stall, does it | |
make a lot of noise, does it smoke, | |
is there gas in it, anything? | |
JULES | |
Aside from how it looks, the car's | |
cool. | |
THE WOLF | |
Positive? Don't get me out on the | |
road and I find out the brake lights | |
don't work. | |
JULES | |
Hey man, as far as I know, the | |
motherfucker's tip-top. | |
THE WOLF | |
Good enough, let's go back to the | |
kitchen. | |
INT. KITCHEN – MORNING | |
Jimmie hands The Wolf a cup of coffee. | |
THE WOLF | |
Thank you, Jimmie. | |
He takes a sip, then, pacing as he thinks, lays out for the | |
three men the plan of action. | |
THE WOLF | |
Okay first thing, you two. | |
(meaning Jules and | |
Vincent) | |
Take the body, stick it in the trunk. | |
Now Jimmie, this looks to be a pretty | |
domesticated house. That would lead | |
me to believe that in the garage or | |
under the sink, you got a bunch of | |
cleansers and cleaners and shit like | |
that, am I correct? | |
JIMMIE | |
Yeah. Exactly. Under the sink. | |
THE WOLF | |
Good. What I need you two fellas to | |
do is take those cleaning products | |
and clean the inside of the car. And | |
I'm talkin' fast, fast, fast. You | |
need to go in the backseat, 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 spic and span, you don't need | |
to eat off it. 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 | |
gotta soak that shit up. But the | |
windows are a different story. Them | |
you really clean. Get the Windex, do | |
a good job. 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 gonna line the front seat and | |
the backseat and the floor boards | |
with quilts and blankets. If a cop | |
stops us and starts stickin' 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. | |
The Wolf and Jimmie turn, heading for the bedroom, leaving | |
Vincent and Jules standing in the kitchen. | |
VINCENT | |
(calling after him) | |
A "please" would be nice. | |
The Wolf stops and turns around. | |
THE WOLF | |
Come again? | |
VINCENT | |
I said a "please" would be nice. | |
The Wolf takes a step toward him. | |
THE WOLF | |
Set is straight, Buster. I'm not | |
here to say "please."I'm here to | |
tell you want to do. And if self- | |
preservation is an instinct you | |
possess, you better fuckin' do it | |
and do it quick. I'm here to help. | |
If my help's not appreciated, lotsa | |
luck gentlemen. | |
JULES | |
It ain't that way, Mr. Wolf. Your | |
help is definitely appreciated. | |
VINCENT | |
I don't mean any disrespect. I just | |
don't like people barkin' orders at | |
me. | |
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 guys to | |
act fast if you want to get out of | |
this. So pretty please, with sugar | |
on top, clean the fuckin' car. | |
INT. JIMMIE'S BEDROOM – MORNING | |
Jimmie's gathering all the bedspreads, quilts and linen he | |
has. | |
The Wolf is on the phone. | |
THE WOLF | |
(into phone) | |
It's a 1974 Chevy Nova. | |
(pause) | |
White. | |
(pause) | |
Nothin', except for the mess inside. | |
(pause) | |
About twenty minutes. | |
(pause) | |
Nobody who'll be missed. | |
(pause) | |
You're a good man, Joe. See ya soon. | |
(he looks at Jimmie) | |
How we comin', Jimmie? | |
Jimmie comes over with a handful of linen. | |
JIMMIE | |
Mr. Wolf, you gotta understand | |
somethin' – | |
THE WOLF | |
– Winston, Jimmie – please, Winston. | |
JIMMIE | |
You gotta understand something, | |
Winston. I want to help you guys out | |
and all, but that's my best linen. | |
It was a wedding present from my | |
Uncle Conrad and Aunt Ginny, and | |
they ain't with us anymore – | |
THE WOLF | |
– let me ask you a question, if you | |
don't mind? | |
JIMMIE | |
Sure. | |
THE WOLF | |
Were you Uncle Conrad and Aunt Ginny | |
millionaires? | |
JIMMIE | |
No. | |
THE WOLF | |
Well, your Uncle Marsellus is. And | |
I'm positive if Uncle Conrad and | |
Aunt Ginny were millionaires, they | |
would've furnished you with a whole | |
bedroom set, which your Uncle | |
Marsellus is more than happy to do. | |
(takes out a roll of | |
bills) | |
I like oak myself, that's what's in | |
my bedroom. How 'bout you Jimmie, | |
you an oak man? | |
JIMMIE | |
Oak's nice. | |
INT. GARAGE – MORNING | |
Both Jules and Vincent are inside the car cleaning it up. | |
Vincent is in the front seat washing windows, while Jules is | |
in the backseat, picking up little pieces of skull and gobs | |
of brain. | |
Both are twice as bloody as they were before. | |
JULES | |
I will never forgive your ass for | |
this shit. This is some fucked-up | |
repugnant shit! | |
VINCENT | |
Did you ever hear the philosophy | |
that once a man admits he's wrong, | |
he's immediately forgiven for all | |
wrong-doings? | |
JULES | |
Man, get outta my face with that | |
shit! The motherfucker who said that | |
never had to pick up itty-bitty pieces | |
of skull with his fingers on account | |
of your dumb ass. | |
VINCENT | |
I got a threshold, Jules. I got a | |
threshold for the abuse I'll take. | |
And you're crossin' it. I'm a race | |
car and you got me in the red. Redline | |
7000, that's where you are. Just | |
know, it's fuckin' dangerous to be | |
drivin' a race car when it's in the | |
red. It could blow. | |
JULES | |
You're gettin' ready to blow? I'm a | |
mushroom-cloud-layin' motherfucker! | |
Every time my fingers touch brain | |
I'm "SUPERFLY T.N.T," I'm the "GUNS | |
OF NAVARONE." I'm what Jimmie Walker | |
usta talk about. In fact, what the | |
fuck am I doin' in the back? You're | |
the motherfucker should be on brain | |
detail. We're tradin'. I'm washin' | |
windows and you're pickin' up this | |
nigger's skull. | |
INT. CHEVY NOVA – MORNING | |
The interior of the car has been cleaned and lined with | |
bedspreads and quilts. Believe it or not, what looked like a | |
portable slaughterhouse can actually pass for a non-descript | |
vehicle. | |
The Wolf circles the car examining it. | |
Jules and Vincent stand aside, their clothes are literally a | |
bloody mess, but they do have a sense of pride in what a | |
good job they've done. | |
THE WOLF | |
Fine job, gentlemen. We may get out | |
of this yet. | |
JIMMIE | |
I can't believe that's the same car. | |
THE WOLF | |
Well, let's not start suckin' each | |
other's dicks quite yet. Phase one | |
is complete, clean the car, which | |
moves us right along to phase two, | |
clean you two. | |
EXT. JIMMIE'S BACKYARD – MORNING | |
Jules and Vincent stand side by side in their black suits, | |
covered in blood, in Jimmie's backyard. Jimmie holds a plastic | |
Hefty trash bag, while The Wolf holds a garden hose with one | |
of those guns nozzles attached. | |
THE WOLF | |
Strip. | |
VINCENT | |
All the way? | |
THE WOLF | |
To your bare ass. | |
As they follow directions, The Wolf enjoys a smoke. | |
THE WOLF | |
Quickly gentlemen, we got about | |
fifteen minutes before Jimmie's better- | |
half comes pulling into the driveway. | |
JULES | |
This morning air is some chilly shit. | |
VINCENT | |
Are you sure this is absolutely | |
necessary? | |
THE WOLF | |
You know what you two look like? | |
VINCENT | |
What? | |
THE WOLF | |
Like a couple of guys who just blew | |
off somebody's head. Yes, strippin' | |
off those bloody rags is absolutely | |
necessary. Toss the clothes in Jim's | |
garbage bag. | |
JULES | |
Now Jimmie, don't do nothin' stupid | |
like puttin' that out in front of | |
your house for Elmo the garbage man | |
to take away. | |
THE WOLF | |
Don't worry, we're takin' it with | |
us. Jim, the soap. | |
He hands the now-naked men a bar of soap. | |
THE WOLF | |
Okay gentlemen, you're both been to | |
County before, I'm sure. Here it | |
comes. | |
He hits the trigger, water SHOOTS OUT, SMACKING both men. | |
JULES | |
Goddamn, that water's fuckin' cold! | |
THE WOLF | |
Better you than me, gentlemen. | |
The two men, trembling, scrub themselves. | |
THE WOLF | |
Don't be afraid of the soap, spread | |
it around. | |
The Wolf stops the hose, tossing it on the ground. | |
THE WOLF | |
Towel 'em. | |
Jimmie tosses them each a towel, which they rub furiously | |
across their bodies. | |
THE WOLF | |
You're dry enough, give 'em their | |
clothes. | |
FADE UP ON: | |
JULES AND VINCENT In their tee-shirts and swim trunks. They | |
look a million miles away from the black-suited, bad-asses | |
we first met. | |
THE WOLF | |
Perfect. Perfect. We couldn't've | |
planned this better. You guys look | |
like... what do they look like, | |
Jimmie? | |
JIMMIE | |
Dorks. They look like a couple of | |
dorks. | |
The Wolf and Jimmie laugh. | |
JULES | |
Ha ha ha. They're your clothes, | |
motherfucker. | |
JIMMIE | |
I guess you just gotta know how to | |
wear them. | |
JULES | |
Yeah, well, our asses ain't the expert | |
on wearin' dorky shit that your is. | |
THE WOLF | |
C'mon, gentlemen, we're laughin' and | |
jokin' our way into prison. Don't | |
make me beg. | |
INT. JIMMIE'S GARAGE – MORNING | |
The garbage bag is tossed in the car trunk on top of Marvin. | |
The Wolf SLAMS is closed. | |
THE WOLF | |
Gentlemen, let's get our rules of | |
the road straight. We're going to a | |
place called Monster Joe's Truck and | |
Tow. Monster Joe and his daughter | |
Raquel are sympathetic to out dilemma. | |
The place is North Hollywood, so a | |
few twist and turns aside, we'll be | |
goin' up Hollywood Way. Now I'll | |
drive the tainted car. Jules, you | |
ride with me. Vincent, you follow | |
in my Porsche. Now if we cross the | |
path of any John Q. Laws, nobody | |
does a fuckin' thing 'til I do | |
something. | |
(TO JULES) | |
What did I say? | |
JULES | |
Don't do shit unless – | |
THE WOLF | |
– unless what? | |
JULES | |
Unless you do it first. | |
THE WOLF | |
Spoken like a true prodigy. | |
(to Vincent) | |
How 'bout you, Lash Larue? Can you | |
keep your spurs from jingling and | |
jangling? | |
VINCENT | |
I'm cool, Mr. Wolf. My gun just went | |
off, I dunno how. | |
THE WOLF | |
Fair enough. | |
(he throws Vince his | |
car keys) | |
I drive real fuckin' fast, so keep | |
up. If I get my car back any different | |
than I gave it, Monster Joe's gonna | |
be disposing of two bodies. | |
EXT. MONSTER JOE'S TRUCK AND TOW – MORNING | |
Jules and Vincent wait by Winston's Porsche. | |
JULES | |
We cool? | |
WINSTON | |
Like it never happened. | |
Jules and Vincent bump fists. | |
WINSTON | |
Boys, this is Raquel. Someday, all | |
this will be hers. | |
RAQUEL | |
(to the boys) | |
Hi. You know, if they ever do "I | |
SPY: THE MOTION PICTURE," you guys, | |
I'd be great. What's with the | |
outfits. You guys going to a | |
volleyball game? | |
Winston laughs, the boys groan. | |
WINSTON | |
I'm takin' m'lady out to breakfast. | |
Maybe I can drop you two off. Where | |
do you live? | |
VINCENT | |
Redondo Beach. | |
JULES | |
Inglewood. | |
Winston grabs Jules' wrist and pantomimes like he's in a | |
"DEAD ZONE" trance. | |
WINSTON | |
(painfully) | |
It's your future: I see... a cab | |
ride. | |
(dropping the act) | |
Sorry guys, move out of the sticks. | |
(to Raquel) | |
Say goodbye, Raquel. | |
RAQUEL | |
Goodbye, Raquel. | |
WINSTON | |
I'll see you two around, and stay | |
outta trouble, you crazy kids. | |
Winston turns to leave. | |
JULES | |
Mr. Wolf. | |
He turns around. | |
JULES | |
I was a pleasure watchin' you work. | |
The Wolf smiles. | |
WINSTON | |
Call me Winston. | |
He turns and banters with Raquel as they get in the Porsche. | |
WINSTON | |
You hear that, young lady? Respect. | |
You could lean a lot from those two | |
fine specimens. Respect for one's | |
elders shows character. | |
RAQUEL | |
I have character. | |
WINSTON | |
Just because you are a character | |
doesn't mean you have character. | |
RAQUEL | |
Oh you're so funny, oh you're so | |
funny. | |
The Porsche SHOOTS OFF down the road. | |
The two men left alone look at each other. | |
JULES | |
Wanna share a cab? | |
VINCENT | |
You know I could go for some | |
breakfast. Want to have breakfast | |
with me? | |
JULES | |
Sure. | |
INT. COFFEE SHOP – MORNING | |
Jules and Vincent sit at a booth. In front of Vincent is a | |
big stack of pancakes and sausages, which he eats with gusto. | |
Jules, on the other hand, just has a cup of coffee and a | |
muffin. He seems far away in thought. The Waitress pours a | |
refill for both men, | |
VINCENT | |
Thanks a bunch. | |
(to Jules, who's | |
nursing his coffee) | |
Want a sausage? | |
JULES | |
Naw, I don't eat pork. | |
VINCENT | |
Are you Jewish? | |
JULES | |
I ain't Jewish man, I just don't dig | |
on swine. | |
VINCENT | |
Why not? | |
JULES | |
They're filthy animals. I don't eat | |
filthy animals. | |
VINCENT | |
Sausages taste good. Pork chops taste | |
good. | |
JULES | |
A sewer rat may taste like pumpkin | |
pie. I'll never know 'cause even if | |
it did, I wouldn't eat the filthy | |
motherfucker. Pigs sleep and root in | |
shit. That's a filthy animal. I don't | |
wanna eat nothin' that ain't got | |
enough sense to disregard its own | |
feces. | |
VINCENT | |
How about dogs? Dogs eat their own | |
feces. | |
JULES | |
I don't eat dog either. | |
VINCENT | |
Yes, 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. But a dog's got personality. | |
And personality goes a long way. | |
VINCENT | |
So by that rationale, if a pig had a | |
better personality, he's cease to be | |
a filthy animal? | |
JULES | |
We'd have to be talkin' 'bout one | |
motherfuckin' charmin' pig. It'd | |
have to be the Cary Grant of pigs. | |
The two men laugh. | |
VINCENT | |
Good for you. Lighten up a little. | |
You been sittin' there all quiet. | |
JULES | |
I just been sittin' here thinkin'. | |
VINCENT | |
(mouthful of food) | |
About what? | |
JULES | |
The miracle we witnessed. | |
VINCENT | |
The miracle you witnessed. I witnessed | |
a freak occurrence. | |
JULES | |
Do you know that a miracle is? | |
VINCENT | |
An act of God. | |
JULES | |
What's an act of God? | |
VINCENT | |
I guess it's when God makes the | |
impossible possible. And I'm sorry | |
Jules, but I don't think what happened | |
this morning qualifies. | |
JULES | |
Don't you see, Vince, that shit don't | |
matter. You're judging this thing | |
the wrong way. It's not about what. | |
It could be God stopped the bullets, | |
he changed Coke into Pepsi, he found | |
my fuckin' car keys. You don't judge | |
shit like this based on merit. Whether | |
or not what we experienced was an | |
according-to-Hoyle miracle is | |
insignificant. What is significant | |
is I felt God's touch, God got | |
involved. | |
VINCENT | |
But why? | |
JULES | |
That's what's fuckin' wit' me! I | |
don't know why. But I can't go back | |
to sleep. | |
VINCENT | |
So you're serious, you're really | |
gonna quit? | |
JULES | |
The life, most definitely. | |
Vincent takes a bite of food. Jules takes a sip of coffee In | |
the b.g., we see a PATRON call the Waitress. | |
PATRON | |
Garcon! Coffee! | |
We recognize the patron to be Pumpkin from the first scene | |
of Pumpkin and Honey Bunny. | |
VINCENT | |
So if you're quitting the life, | |
what'll you do? | |
JULES | |
That's what I've been sitting here | |
contemplating. First, I'm gonna | |
deliver this case to Marsellus. Then, | |
basically, I'm gonna walk the earth. | |
VINCENT | |
What do you mean, walk the earth? | |
JULES | |
You know, like Caine in "KUNG FU." | |
Just walk from town to town, meet | |
people, get in adventures. | |
VINCENT | |
How long do you intend to walk the | |
earth? | |
JULES | |
Until God puts me where he want me | |
to be. | |
VINCENT | |
What if he never does? | |
JULES | |
If it takes forever, I'll wait | |
forever. | |
VINCENT | |
So you decided to be a bum? | |
JULES | |
I'll just be Jules, Vincent – no | |
more, no less. | |
VINCENT | |
No Jules, you're gonna be like those | |
pieces of shit out there who beg for | |
change. They walk around like a bunch | |
of fuckin' zombies, they sleep in | |
garbage bins, they eat what I throw | |
away, and dogs piss on 'em. They got | |
a word for 'em, they're called bums. | |
And without a job, residence, or | |
legal tender, that's what you're | |
gonna be – a fuckin' bum! | |
JULES | |
Look my friend, this is just where | |
me and you differ – | |
VINCENT | |
– what happened was peculiar – no | |
doubt about it – but it wasn't water | |
into wine. | |
JULES | |
All shapes and sizes, Vince. | |
VINCENT | |
Stop fuckin' talkin' like that! | |
JULES | |
If you find my answers frightening, | |
Vincent, you should cease askin' | |
scary questions. | |
VINCENT | |
I gotta take a shit. To be continued. | |
Vincent exits for the restroom. | |
Jules, alone, takes a mouthful of muffin, then... Pumpkin | |
and Honey Bunny rise with guns raised. | |
PUMPKIN | |
Everybody be cool, this is a robbery! | |
HONEY BUNNY | |
Any of you fuckin' pricks move and | |
I'll execute every one of you | |
motherfuckers! Got that?! | |
Jules looks up, not believing what he's seeing. Under the | |
table, Jules' hand goes to his .45 Automatic. He pulls it | |
out, COCKING IT. | |
PUMPKIN | |
Customers stay seated, waitresses on | |
the floor. | |
HONEY BUNNY | |
Now mean fuckin' now! Do it or die, | |
do it or fucking die! | |
Like lightning, Pumpkin moves over to the kitchen. While | |
Honey Bunny SCREAMS out threats to the PATRONS, keeping them | |
terrified. | |
PUMPKIN | |
You Mexicans in the kitchen, get out | |
here! Asta luego! | |
Three COOKS and two BUSBOYS come out of the kitchen. | |
PUMPKIN | |
On the floor or I'll cook you ass, | |
comprende? | |
They comprende. The portly MANAGER speaks up. | |
MANAGER | |
I'm the manager here, there's no | |
problem, no problem at all – | |
Pumpkin heads his way. | |
PUMPKIN | |
You're gonna give me a problem? | |
He reaches him and sticks the barrel of his gun hard in the | |
Manager's neck. | |
PUMPKIN | |
What? You said you're gonna give me | |
a problem? | |
MANAGER | |
No, I'm not. I'm not gonna give you | |
any problem! | |
PUMPKIN | |
I don't know, Honey Bunny. He looks | |
like the hero type to me! | |
HONEY BUNNY | |
Don't take any chances. Execute him! | |
The Patrons SCREAM. Jules watches all this silently, his | |
hand tightly gripping the .45 Automatic under the table. | |
MANAGER | |
Please don't! I'm not a hero. I'm | |
just a coffee shop manager. Take | |
anything you want. | |
PUMPKIN | |
Tell everyone to cooperate and it'll | |
be all over. | |
MANAGER | |
Everybody just be calm and cooperate | |
with them and this will be all over | |
soon! | |
PUMPKIN | |
Well done, now git your fuckin' ass | |
on the ground. | |
INT. COFFEE SHOP BATHROOM – MORNING | |
Vincent, on the toilet, oblivious to the pandemonium outside, | |
reads his "MODESTY BLAISE" book. | |
INT. COFFEE SHOP – MORNING | |
Cash register drawer opens. Pumpkin stuffs the money from | |
the till in his pocket. Then walks from behind the counter | |
with a trash bag in his hand. | |
PUMPKIN | |
Okay people, I'm going to go 'round | |
and collect your wallets. Don't talk, | |
just toss 'em in the bag. We clear? | |
Pumpkin goes around collecting wallets. Jules sits with his | |
.45 ready to spit under the table. | |
Pumpkin sees Jules sitting in his booth, holding his wallet, | |
briefcase next to him. Pumpkin crosses to him, his tone more | |
respectful, him manner more on guard. | |
PUMPKIN | |
In the bag. | |
Jules DROPS his wallet in the bag. Using his gun as a pointer, | |
Pumpkin points to the briefcase. | |
PUMPKIN | |
What's in that? | |
JULES | |
My boss' dirty laundry. | |
PUMPKIN | |
You boss makes you do his laundry? | |
JULES | |
When he wants it clean. | |
PUMPKIN | |
Sounds like a shit job. | |
JULES | |
Funny, I've been thinkin' the same | |
thing. | |
PUMPKIN | |
Open it up. | |
Jules' free hand lays palm flat on the briefcase. | |
JULES | |
'Fraid I can't do that. | |
Pumpkin is definitely surprised by his answer. He aims the | |
gun right in the middle of Jules' face and pulls back the | |
hammer. | |
PUMPKIN | |
I didn't hear you. | |
JULES | |
Yes, you did. | |
This exchange has been kind of quiet, not everybody heard | |
it, but Honey Bunny senses something's wrong. | |
HONEY BUNNY | |
What's goin' on? | |
PUMPKIN | |
Looks like we got a vigilante in our | |
midst. | |
HONEY BUNNY | |
Shoot 'em in the face! | |
JULES | |
I don't mean to shatter your ego, | |
but this ain't the first time I've | |
had gun pointed at me. | |
PUMPKIN | |
You don't open up that case, it's | |
gonna be the last. | |
MANAGER | |
(on the ground) | |
Quit causing problems, you'll get us | |
all killed! Give 'em what you got | |
and get 'em out of here. | |
JULES | |
Keep your fuckin' mouth closed, fat | |
man, this ain't any of your goddamn | |
business! | |
PUMPKIN | |
I'm countin' to three, and if your | |
hand ain't off that case, I'm gonna | |
unload right in your fuckin' face. | |
Clear? One... | |
PUMPKIN | |
...two... three. | |
JULES | |
You win. | |
Jules raises his hand off the briefcase. | |
JULES | |
It's all yours, Ringo. | |
PUMPKIN | |
Open it. | |
Jules flips the locks and opens the case, revealing it to | |
Pumpkin but not to us. The same light SHINES from the case. | |
Pumpkin's expression goes to amazement. Honey Bunny, across | |
the room, can't see shit. | |
HONEY BUNNY | |
What is it? What is it? | |
PUMPKIN | |
(softly) | |
Is that what I think it is? | |
Jules nods his head: "yes." | |
PUMPKIN | |
It's beautiful. | |
Jules nods his head: "yes." | |
HONEY BUNNY | |
Goddammit, what is it? | |
Jules SLAMS the case closed, then sits back, as if offering | |
the case to Pumpkin. Pumpkin, one big smile, bends over to | |
pick up the case. | |
Like a rattlesnake, Jules' free hand GRABS the wrist of | |
Pumpkin's gun hand, SLAMMING it on the table. His other hand | |
comes from under the table and STICKS the barrel of his .45 | |
hand under Pumpkin's chin. | |
Honey Bunny freaks out, waving her gun in Jules' direction. | |
HONEY BUNNY | |
Let him go! Let him go! I'll blow | |
your fuckin' head off! I'll kill ya! | |
I'll kill ya! You're gonna die, you're | |
gonna fuckin' die bad! | |
JULES | |
(to Pumpkin) | |
Tell that bitch to be cool! Say, | |
bitch be cool! Say, bitch be cool! | |
PUMPKIN | |
Chill out, honey! | |
HONEY BUNNY | |
Let him go! | |
JULES | |
(softly) | |
Tell her it's gonna be okay. | |
PUMPKIN | |
I'm gonna be okay. | |
JULES | |
Promise her. | |
PUMPKIN | |
I promise. | |
JULES | |
Tell her to chill. | |
PUMPKIN | |
Just chill out. | |
JULES | |
What's her name? | |
PUMPKIN | |
Yolanda. | |
Whenever Jules talks to Yolanda, he never looks at her, only | |
at Pumpkin. | |
JULES | |
(to Yolanda) | |
So, we cool Yolanda? We ain't gonna | |
do anything stupid, are we? | |
YOLANDA | |
(crying) | |
Don't you hurt him. | |
JULES | |
Nobody's gonna hurt anybody. We're | |
gonna be like three Fonzies. And | |
what' Fonzie like? | |
No answer. | |
JULES | |
C'mon Yolanda, what's Fonzie like? | |
YOLANDA | |
(through tears, unsure) | |
He's cool? | |
JULES | |
Correct-amundo! And that's what we're | |
gonna be, we're gonna be cool. | |
(to Pumpkin) | |
Now Ringo, I'm gonna count to three | |
and I want you to let go your gun | |
and lay your palms flat on the table. | |
But when you do it, do it cool. Ready? | |
Pumpkin looks at him. | |
JULES | |
One... two... three. | |
Pumpkin lets go of his gun and places both hands on the table. | |
Yolanda can't stand it anymore. | |
YOLANDA | |
Okay, now let him go! | |
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. | |
YOLANDA | |
(more conversational) | |
Just know: you hurt him, you die. | |
JULES | |
That seems to be the situation. Now | |
I don't want that and you don't want | |
that and Ringo here don't want that. | |
So let's see what we can do. | |
(to Ringo) | |
Now this is the situation. Normally | |
both of your asses would be dead as | |
fuckin' fried chicken. But you | |
happened to pull this shit while I'm | |
in a transitional period. I don't | |
wanna kill ya, I want to help ya. | |
But I'm afraid I can't give you the | |
case. It don't belong to me. Besides, | |
I went through too much shit this | |
morning on account of this case to | |
just hand it over to your ass. | |
VINCENT (O.S.) | |
What the fuck's goin' on here? | |
Yolanda WHIPS her gun toward the stranger. | |
Vincent, by the bathroom, has his gun out, dead-aimed at | |
Yolanda. | |
JULES | |
It's cool, Vincent! It's cool! Don't | |
do a goddamn thing. Yolanda, it's | |
cool baby, nothin's changed. We're | |
still just talkin'. | |
(to Pumpkin) | |
Tell her we're still cool. | |
PUMPKIN | |
It's cool, Honey Bunny, we're still | |
cool. | |
VINCENT | |
(gun raised) | |
What the hell's goin' on, Jules? | |
JULES | |
Nothin' I can't handle. I want you | |
to just hang back and don't do shit | |
unless it's absolutely necessary. | |
VINCENT | |
Check. | |
JULES | |
Yolanda, how we doin, baby? | |
YOLANDA | |
I gotta go pee! I want to go home. | |
JULES | |
Just hang in there, baby, you're | |
doing' great, Ringo's proud of you | |
and so am I. It's almost over. | |
(to Pumpkin) | |
Now I want you to go in that bag and | |
find my wallet. | |
PUMPKIN | |
Which one is it? | |
JULES | |
It's the one that says Bad | |
Motherfucker on it. | |
Pumpkin looks in the bag and – sure enough – there's a wallet | |
with "Bad Motherfucker" embroidered on it. | |
JULES | |
That's my bad motherfucker. Now open | |
it up and take out the cash. How | |
much is there? | |
PUMPKIN | |
About fifteen hundred dollars. | |
JULES | |
Put it in your pocket, it's yours. | |
Now with the rest of them wallets | |
and the register, that makes this a | |
pretty successful little score. | |
VINCENT | |
Jules, if you give this nimrod fifteen | |
hundred buck, I'm gonna shoot 'em on | |
general principle. | |
JULES | |
You ain't gonna do a goddamn thing, | |
now hang back and shut the fuck up. | |
Besides, I ain't givin' it to him. | |
I'm buyin' somethin' for my money. | |
Wanna know what I'm buyin' Ringo? | |
PUMPKIN | |
What? | |
JULES | |
Your life. I'm givin' you that money | |
so I don't hafta kill your ass. You | |
read the Bible? | |
PUMPKIN | |
Not regularly. | |
JULES | |
There's a 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 the 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." I been sayin' that shit for | |
years. And if you ever heard it, it | |
meant your ass. I never really | |
questioned what it meant. I thought | |
it was just a coldblooded thing to | |
say to a motherfucker 'fore you popped | |
a cap in his ass. But I saw some | |
shit this mornin' made me think twice. | |
Now I'm thinkin', it could mean you're | |
the evil man. And I'm the righteous | |
man. And Mr. .45 here, he's the | |
shepherd protecting my righteous ass | |
in the valley of darkness. Or is | |
could by you're the righteous man | |
and I'm the shepherd and it's the | |
world that's evil and selfish. I'd | |
like that. But that shit ain't the | |
truth. The truth is you're the weak. | |
And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But | |
I'm tryin'. I'm tryin' real hard to | |
be a shepherd. | |
Jules lowers his gun, lying it on the table. | |
Pumpkin looks at him, to the money in his hand, then to | |
Yolanda. | |
She looks back. | |
Grabbing the trash bag full of wallets, the two RUN out the | |
door. | |
Jules, who was never risen from his seat the whole time, | |
takes a sip of coffee. | |
JULES | |
(to himself) | |
It's cold. | |
He pushes it aside. | |
Vincent appears next to Jules. | |
VINCENT | |
I think we oughta leave now. | |
JULES | |
That's probably a good idea. | |
Vincent throws some money on the table and Jules grabs the | |
briefcase. | |
Then, to the amazement of the Patrons, the Waitresses, the | |
Cooks, the Bus Boys, and the Manager, these two bad-ass dudes | |
– wearing UC Santa Cruz and "I'm with Stupid" tee-shirts, | |
swim trunks, thongs and packing .45 Automatics – walk out of | |
the coffee shop together without saying a word. |
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