PULP FICTION
Vincent: And you know what they call a... a... a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?
Vincent: No man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.
Jules: Then what do they call it?
Vincent: They call it a Royale with cheese.
Jules: A Royale with cheese. What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: Well, a Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it le Big-Mac.
Jules: Le Big-Mac. Ha ha ha ha. What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King. Jules: What does Marcellus Wallace look like?
Brett: What?
Jules: What country you from?
Brett: What?
Jules: What ain't no country I ever heard of! They speak English in What?
Brett: What?
Jules: ENGLISH, MOTHERFUCKER! DO-YOU-SPEAK-IT?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Then you know what I'm saying!
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Describe what Marcellus Wallace looks like!
Brett: What, I-?
Jules: [pointing his gun] Say what again. SAY WHAT AGAIN. I dare you, I double dare you, motherfucker. Say what one more goddamn time.
Brett: He's b-b-black...
Jules: Go on.
Brett: He's bald...
Jules: Does he look like a bitch?
Brett: What?
[Jules shoots Brett in shoulder]
Jules: DOES HE LOOK LIKE A BITCH?
Brett: No!
Jules: Then why you try to fuck him like a bitch, Brett?
Brett: I didn't.
Jules: Yes you did. Yes you did, Brett. You tried to fuck him. And Marcellus Wallace don't like to be fucked by anybody, except Mrs. Wallace.
KILL BILL VOL. 1 and 2
O-Ren Ishii: [after she cuts off Tanaka's head, in Japanese] So you all will know the seriousness of my warning, I shall say this in English.
O-Ren Ishii: [in English] As your leader, I encourage you from time to time, and always in a respectful manner, to question my logic. If you're unconvinced that a particular plan of action I've decided is the wisest, tell me so, but allow me to convince you and I promise you right here and now, no subject will ever be taboo. Except, of course, the subject that was just under discussion. The price you pay for bringing up either my Chinese or American heritage as a negative is... I collect your fucking head. Just like this fucker here. Now, if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, now's the fucking time!
[pause]
O-Ren Ishii: I didn't think so.
O-Ren Ishii: [calmly, in Japanese] Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.
O-Ren Ishii: You didn't think it was gonna be that easy, did you?
The Bride: You know, for a second there, yeah, I kinda did.
O-Ren Ishii: Silly rabbit.
The Bride: Trix are…
O-Ren Ishii: …for kids.
Japanese Businessman: Do you like Ferraris?
Go Go Yubari: Ferraris... Italian trash.
[Japanese businessman giggles]
Go Go Yubari: Do you want to screw me?
[Japanese businessman giggles again]
Go Go Yubari: Don't laugh. Do you want to screw me, yes or no?
Japanese Businessman: Yes.
[She stabs him in the stomach with a Samurai short sword]
Go Go Yubari: How about now, big boy? Do you still wish to penetrate me?... Or is it I who has penetrated you?
The Bride: [drags Buck The Rapist's head between a hospital door, and screams] WHERE'S BILL!
[slam]
Buck: Ugh!
The Bride: WHERE'S BILL!
[slam]
Buck: Ugh!
[feebly]
Buck: Please... stop... hitting me...
The Bride: WHERE'S BILL!
[slam]
Buck: Ugh!
[frantically]
Buck: I... I don't know who Bill is!
The Bride: BULLSHIT!
[slam]
The Bride: [then she notices the tattoos of "Buck" on one hand, and "Fuck" on another, then starts to remember the rapists standing by her bed]
Buck: [flashback] Well ain'cha the slice of cutie pie they said you were... Janes Doe... They don't know shit about you! Well, I'm from Huntsville; Texas. My name is Buck, and I'm here to fuck... Hahahahahahaha...
The Bride: [gently] Your name is "Buck"... right?
Buck: [Buck gulps]
The Bride: [getting angrier and angrier] ... and you came here to "Fuck", RIGHT?
[prepares for one last mighty slam]
Buck: [screaming] WAIT A MINUTE!
The Bride: HRRAAAARRRGH!
[with one mighty slam, The Bride kills Buck The Rapist]
The Bride: [scrambles through Buck's corpse and finds a key ring] Pussy Wagon... You FUCKER!
[one last slam]
Bill: As you know, l'm quite keen on comic books. Especially the ones about superheroes. I find the whole mythology surrounding superheroes fascinating. Take my favorite superhero, Superman. Not a great comic book. Not particularly well-drawn. But the mythology... The mythology is not only great, it's unique. Now, a staple of the superhero mythology is, there's the superhero and there's the alter ego. Batman is actually Bruce Wayne, Spider-Man is actually Peter Parker. When that character wakes up in the morning, he's Peter Parker. He has to put on a costume to become Spider-Man. And it is in that characteristic Superman stands alone. Superman didn't become Superman. Superman was born Superman. When Superman wakes up in the morning, he's Superman. His alter ego is Clark Kent. His outfit with the big red "S", that's the blanket he was wrapped in as a baby when the Kents found him. Those are his clothes. What Kent wears - the glasses, the business suit - that's the costume. That's the costume Superman wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us. And what are the characteristics of Clark Kent. He's weak... he's unsure of himself... he's a coward. Clark Kent is Superman's critique on the whole human race. Sorta like Beatrix Kiddo and Mrs. Tommy Plimpton.
The Bride: Aso. The point Emerges.
Bill: You would've worn the costume of Arlene Plimpton. But you were born Beatrix Kiddo. And every morning when you woke up, you'd still be Beatrix Kiddo. Oh, you can take the needle out.
The Bride: Are you calling me a superhero?
Bill: I'm calling you a killer. A natural born killer. You always have been, and you always will be. Moving to El Paso, working in a used record store, goin' to the movies with Tommy, clipping coupons. That's you, trying to disguise yourself as a worker bee That's you tryin' to blend in with the hive. But you're not a worker bee. You're a renegade killer bee. And no matter how much beer you drank or barbecue you ate or how fat your ass got, nothing in the world would ever change that.
Bill: You hocked a Hattori Hanzon Sword?
Budd: Yep.
Bill: It was priceless.
Budd: Well, not in El Paso, it ain't. In El Paso I got me $250 for it.
Bill: Once upon a time in China, some believe, around the year one double-aught three, head priest of the White Lotus Clan, Pai Mei, was walking down the road, contemplating whatever it is that a man of Pai Mei's infinite power contemplates - which is another way of saying "who knows?" - when a Shaolin monk appeared, traveling in the opposite direction. As the monk and the priest crossed paths, Pai Mei, in a practically unfathomable display of generosity, gave the monk the slightest of nods. The nod was not returned. Now was it the intention of the Shaolin monk to insult Pai Mei? Or did he just fail to see the generous social gesture? The motives of the monk remain unknown. What is known, are the consequences. The next morning Pai Mei appeared at the Shaolin Temple and demanded of the Temple's head abbot that he offer Pai Mei his neck to repay the insult. The Abbot at first tried to console Pai Mei, only to find Pai Mei was inconsolable. So began the massacre of the Shaolin Temple and all sixty of the monks inside at the fists of the White Lotus. And so began the legend of Pai Mei's five-point-palm-exploding-heart technique.
The Bride: And what, pray tell, is the five-point-palm-exploding-heart technique?
Bill: Quite simply, the deadliest blow in all of martial arts. He hits you with his fingertips at five different pressure points on your body. And then he lets you walk away. But after you've taken five steps, your heart explodes inside your body, and you fall to the floor, dead.
-------
I am extremely sadistic. That isn't a threat. It's a promise.
Dane Cook is my favorite!
746 users online 
184867 members 
You have 1 new message.
Sustainer
Patron
