[分享]Pulp Fiction剧本

十二月的雨天 · 发表于 2007-12-15 17:29:36

<p><img src="http://img2.mtime.com/mg/2007/34/6ddb6668-781b-4ca7-a7b1-2a336fd03a06.jpg" align="top" alt=""/></p><div> </div><div> </div><div>Stories by <span> <b>Quentin Tarantino</b></span></div><div><b><span> Roger Avary</span></b></div><div> </div><div>Screenplay by <span> <b>Quentin Tarantino</b></span></div><div><b><span> Roger Avary</span></b></div><div> </div><div>

roduced by <span> <b>Lawrence Bender</b></span></div><div> </div><div>Directed by <span> <b>Quentin Tarantino</b></span></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><b>Cast List: </b></div><div> </div><div><b>John Travolta</b><span> Vincent Vega</span></div><div><b>Samuel Jackson</b><span> Jules Winnfield</span></div><div><b>Bruce Willis<span> </span></b>Butch Coolidge</div><div><b>Uma Thurman<span> </span></b>Mia Wallace</div><div><b>Harvey Keitel</b><span> The Wolf</span></div><div><b>Tim Roth<span> </span></b>

umpkin</div><div><b>Amanda Plummer<span> </span></b>Honey Bunny</div><div><b>Maria de Medeiros</b><span> Fabienne</span></div><div><b>Ving Rhames<span> </span></b>Marsellus Wallace</div><div><b>Eric Stoltz<span> </span></b>Lance</div><div><b>Rosanna Arquette<span> </span></b>Jody</div><div><b>Christopher Walken<span> </span></b>Captain Koons</div><div><b>Quentin Tarantino<span> </span></b>Jimmie</div><div><b>Steve Buscemi<span> </span></b>Surly Buddy Holly Waitor</div><div><b>Frank Whaley<span> </span></b>Brett</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><p><font color="#000000"><img src="http://img1.mtime.com/mg/2007/33/089daf84-3793-4613-8950-4c57f86cd9bf.jpg" align="top" alt=""/> </font></p><p><font color="#000000"> <div><b>

ULP [pulp] n. </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>1. A soft, moist, shapeless</b></div><div><b>mass or matter.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>2. A magazine or book containing lurid</b></div><div><b>subject matter and being characteristically</b></div><div><b>printed on rough, unfinished paper.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><i>American Heritage Dictionary: New College Edition</i></b></div><div><b> </b></div></font></p><div><b>

ULP [pulp] n. </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>1. A soft, moist, shapeless</b></div><div><b>mass or matter.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>2. A magazine or book containing lurid</b></div><div><b>subject matter and being characteristically</b></div><div><b>printed on rough, unfinished paper.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><i>American Heritage Dictionary: New College Edition</i></b></div><div><b> </b></div><p></p>

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十二月的雨天 · 发表于 2007-12-15 17:31:00

<div><b>INT. COFFEE SHOP – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Two of these people are a </i>YOUNG MAN<i> and a </i>YOUNG WOMAN<i>. The Young Man has a slight working-class English accent and, like his fellow countryman, smokes cigarettes like they\'re going out of style.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>No, forget it, it\'s too risky. I\'m through doin\' that shit.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>You always say that, the same thing every time: never again, I\'m through, too dangerous.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>I know that\'s what I always say. I\'m always right too, but –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>– but you forget about it in a day or two –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>– yeah, well, the days of me forgittin\' are over, and the days of me rememberin\' have just begun.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>When you go on like this, you know what you sound like?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>I sound like a sensible fucking man, is what I sound like.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>You sound like a duck.</b></div><div><i>(imitates a duck)</i></div><div><b>Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack... </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>After tonight.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The boy and girl laugh, their laughter putting a pause in there, back and forth.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><i>(with a smile)</i></div><div><b>Correct. I got all tonight to quack.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>A </i>WAITRESS<i> comes by with a pot of coffee.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>WAITRESS</b></div><div><b>Can I get anybody anymore coffee?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>Oh yes, thank you.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Waitress pours the Young Woman\'s coffee. The Young Man lights up another cigarette.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>I\'m doin\' fine. </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The Young Man goes right back into it.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>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.\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>Did it work?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>Did they hurt the little girl?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>You wanna rob banks?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>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\'.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>So you don\'t want to be a bank robber?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>Naw, all those guys are goin\' down the same road, either dead or servin\' twenty.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>And no more liquor stores?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>I\'m not gonna kill anybody.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>Well, what else is there, day jobs?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><i>(laughing)</i></div><div><b>Not this life.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>Well what then?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He calls to the Waitress.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>Garcon! Coffee!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Then looks to his girl.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>This place.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Waitress comes by, pouring him some more.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>WAITRESS</b></div><div><i>(snotty)</i></div><div><b>\"Garcon\" means boy.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She splits.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>Here? It\'s a coffee shop.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><i>(taking to idea)</i></div><div><b>I bet in places like this you couldcut down on the hero factor.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>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 omelette, next minute somebody\'s stickin\' a gun in their face.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Young Woman visibly takes in the idea. The Young Man continues in a low voice.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>See, I got the idea last liquor store we stuck up. \'Member all those customers kept comin\' in?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>Yeah.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>They you got the idea to take everybody\'s wallet.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>Uh-huh.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>That was a good idea.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>Thanks.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>We made more from the wallets then we did the register.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>Yes we did.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>A lot of people go to restaurants.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>A lot of wallets.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>

retty smart, huh?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Young Woman scans the restaurant with this new information. She sees all the </i>

ATRONS<i> eating, lost in conversations. The tires </i>WAITRESS<i>, taking orders. The </i>BUSBOYS<i> going through the motions, collecting dishes. The </i>MANAGER<i> complaining to the </i>COOK<i> about something. A smiles breaks out on the Young Woman\'s face.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>

retty smart.</b></div><div><i>(into it)</i></div><div><b>I\'m ready, let\'s go, right here, right now.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>Remember, same as before, you\'re crowd control, I handle the employees.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>Got it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>They both take out their .32-caliber pistols and lay them on the table. He looks at her and she back at him.</div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG WOMAN</b></div><div><b>I love you, Pumpkin.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOUNG MAN</b></div><div><b>I love you, Honey Bunny.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

UMPKIN</b></div><div><i>(yelling to all)</i></div><div><b>Everybody be cool this is a robbery!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>HONEY BUNNY</b></div><div><b>Any of you fuckin\' pricks move and I\'ll execute every one of you motherfuckers! Got that?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CREDIT SEQUENCE:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><p><img src=\"http://img2.mtime.com/mg/2007/33/dc61f995-dbfb-4118-8bfc-f1ad2d64a3f3.jpg\" align=\"top\" alt=\"\"/>
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十二月的雨天 · 发表于 2007-12-15 17:32:00

<div><b>INT. \'74 CHEVY (MOVING) – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>An old gas guzzling, dirty, white 1974 Chevy Nova </i>BARRELS<i> 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 </i>VINCENT VEGA<i> (white) and </i>JULES WINNFIELD<i> (black). Jules is behind the wheel.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"5\">JULES</font></b></div><div><b>– Okay now, tell me about the hash bars?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What so you want to know?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Well, hash is legal there, right?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Those are hash bars?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>That did it, man – I\'m fuckin\' goin\', that\'s all there is to it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>You\'ll dig it the most. But you know what the funniest thing about Europe is?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>It\'s the little differences. A lotta the same shit we got here, they got there, but there they\'re a little different.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Examples?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>They don\'t call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>No, they got the metric system there, they wouldn\'t know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>What\'d they call it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Royale with Cheese.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><i>(repeating)</i></div><div><b>Royale with Cheese. What\'d they call a Big Mac?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Big Mac\'s a Big Mac, but they call it Le Big Mac.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Le Big Mac. What do they call a Whopper?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I dunno, I didn\'t go into a Burger King. But you know what they put on french fries in Holland instead of ketchup?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Mayonnaise.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Goddamn!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Uuccch!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. CHEVY (TRUNK) – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The trunk of the Chevy </i>OPENS UP<i>, Jules and Vincent reach inside, taking out two .45 Automatics, loading and cocking them.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>We should have shotguns for this kind of deal.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>How many up there?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Three or four.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Counting our guy?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I\'m not sure.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>So there could be five guys up there?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>It\'s possible.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>We should have fuckin\' shotguns.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>They </i>CLOSE<i> the trunk.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING COURTYARD – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>We </i>TRACK<i> alongside.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What\'s her name?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Mia.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>How did Marsellus and her meet?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I dunno, however people meet people. She usta be an actress.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>She ever do anything I woulda saw?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I think her biggest deal was she starred in a pilot.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What\'s a pilot?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Well, you know the shows on TV?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I don\'t watch TV.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Yes, but you\'re aware that there\'s an invention called television, and on that invention they show shows?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Yeah.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>They enter the apartment building.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. RECEPTION AREA (APARTMENT BUILDING) – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent and Jules walk through the reception area and wait for the elevator.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>You remember Antwan Rockamora? Half-black, half-Samoan, usta call him Tony Rocky Horror.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Yeah maybe, fat right?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I think I know who you mean, what about him?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Well, Marsellus fucked his ass up good. And word around the campfire, it was on account of Marsellus Wallace\'s wife.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The elevator arrives, the men step inside.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. ELEVATOR – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What\'d he do, fuck her?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>No no no no no no no, nothin\' that bad.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Well what then?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>He gave her a foot massage.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>A foot massage?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules nods his head: \"Yes.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>That\'s all?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules nods his head: \"Yes.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What did Marsellus do?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The elevator doors open, Jules and Vincent exit.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>That\'s a damn shame.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. APARTMENT BUILDING HALLWAY – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>STEADICAM</b><i> in front of Jules and Vincent as they make a beeline down the hall.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Still I hafta say, play with matches, ya get burned.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"5\">JULES</font></b></div><div><b>Whaddya mean?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>You don\'t be givin\' Marsellus Wallace\'s new bride a foot massage.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>You don\'t think he overreacted?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Antwan probably didn\'t expect Marsellus to react like he did, but he had to expect a reaction.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>It was a foot massage, a foot massage is nothing, I give my mother a foot massage.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules stops Vincent.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Whoa... whoa... whoa... stop right there. Eatin\' a bitch out, and givin\' a bitch a foot massage ain\'t even the same fuckin\' thing.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Not the same thing, the same ballpark.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Have you ever given a foot massage?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Don\'t be tellin\' me about foot massages – I\'m the foot fuckin\' master.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Given a lot of \'em?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Shit yeah. I got my technique down man, I don\'t tickle or nothin\'.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Have you ever given a guy a foot massage?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules looks at him a long moment – he\'s been set up.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Fuck you.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He starts walking down the hall.Vincent, smiling, walks a little bit behind.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>How many?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Fuck you.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Would you give me a foot massage – I\'m kinda tired.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Man, you best back off, I\'m gittin\' pissed – this is the door.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The two men stand in front of the door numbered \"49.\" They whisper.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>What time is it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><i>(checking his watch)</i></div><div><b>Seven-twenty-two in the morning.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>It ain\'t quite time, let\'s hang back.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>They move a little away from the door, facing each other, still whispering.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>That\'s an interesting point, but let\'s get into character.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What\'s her name again?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Mia. Why you so interested in big man\'s wife?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Well, Marsellus is leavin\' for Florida and when he\'s gone, he wants me to take care of Mia.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Take care of her?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Making a gun out of his finger and placing it to his head.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Not that! Take her out. Show her a good time. Don\'t let her get lonely.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>You\'re gonna be takin\'MIA Wallace out on a date?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules just looks at him.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>It\'s not a date.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules just looks at him.</i></div>

爱君如斯 · 发表于 2007-12-15 17:35:00

<div><b>INT. APARTMENT (ROOM 49) – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>THREE YOUNG GUYS<i>, obviously in over their heads, sit at a table with hamburgers, french fries and soda pops laid out.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>One of them flips the </i>LOUD BOLT<i> on the door, opening it to </i>REVEAL<i> Jules and Vincent in the hallway.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Hey kids.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The two men stroll inside.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The three young caught-off-guard Guys are:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div>MARVIN<i>, the black young man, who open the door, will, as the scene progresses, back into the corner.</i></div><div> </div><div>ROGER<i>, 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.</i></div><div> </div><div>BRETT<i>, a white, preppy-looking sort with a blow-dry haircut.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Vincent and Jules take in the place, with their hands in their pockets. Jules is the one who does the talking.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>How you boys doin\'?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>No answer.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><i>(to Brett)</i></div><div><b>Am I trippin\', or did I just ask you a question.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>We\'re doin\' okay.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>As Jules and Brett talk, Vincent moves behind the young Guys.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Do you know who we are?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Brett shakes his head: \"No.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>We\'re associates of your business partner Marsellus Wallace, you remember your business partner dont\'ya?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>No answer.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><i>(to Brett)</i></div><div><b>Now I\'m gonna take a wild guess here: you\'re Brett, right?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>I\'m Brett.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I thought so. Well, you remember your business partner Marsellus Wallace, dont\'ya Brett?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>I remember him.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Good for you. Looks like me and Vincent caught you at breakfast, sorry \'bout that. What\'cha eatin\'?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>Hamburgers.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Hamburgers. The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast. What kinda hamburgers?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>Cheeseburgers.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>No, I mean where did you get\'em? MacDonald\'s, Wendy\'s, Jack-in-the-Box, where?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>Big Kahuna Burger.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>They\'re good.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Mind if I try one of yours?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>No.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Yours is this one, right?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>Yeah.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules grabs the burger and take a bite of it.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Uuummmm, that\'s a tasty burger.</b></div><div><i>(to Vincent)</i></div><div><b>Vince, you ever try a Big Kahuna Burger?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>No.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules holds out the Big Kahuna.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>You wanna bite, they\'re real good.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I ain\'t hungry.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><i>(to Brett)</i></div><div><b>You know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in France?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>No.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Tell \'em, Vincent.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Royale with Cheese.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Royale with Cheese, you know why they call it that?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>Because of the metric system?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Check out the big brain on Brett. You\'a smart motherfucker, that\'s right. The metric system.</b></div><div><i>(he points to a fast food drink cup)</i></div><div><b>What\'s in this?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>Sprite.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Sprite, good, mind if I have some of your tasty beverage to wash this down with?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>Sure.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules grabs the cup and takes a sip.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Uuuuummmm, hit\'s the spot!</b></div><div><i>(to Roger)</i></div><div><b>You, Flock of Seagulls, you know what we\'re here for?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Roger nods his head: \"Yes.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Then why don\'t you tell my boy here Vince, where you got the shit hid.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARVIN</b></div><div><b>It\'s under the be –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>– I don\'t remember askin\' you a goddamn thing.</b></div><div><i>(to Roger)</i></div><div><b>You were sayin\'?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ROGER</b></div><div><b>It\'s under the bed.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent moves to the bed, reaches underneath it, pulling out a black snap briefcase.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Got it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>We happy?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>No answer from the transfixed Vincent.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Vincent!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent looks up at Jules.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>We happy?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Closing the case.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>We\'re happy.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><i>(to Jules)</i></div><div><b>Look, what\'s your name? I got his name\'s Vincent, but what\'s yours?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>My name\'s Pitt, and you ain\'t talkin\' your ass outta this shit.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>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 –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>As Brett talks, Jules takes out his gun and </i>SHOOTS<i> Roger three times in the chest, </i>BLOWING<i> him out of his chair.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vince smiles to himself. Jules has got style.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><i>(to Brett)</i></div><div><b>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.\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Brett can\'t say a word.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Whatsamatter? Oh, you were through anyway. Well, let me retort. Would you describe for me what Marsellus Wallace looks like?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Brett still can\'t speak.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules </i>SNAPS<i>, </i>SAVAGELY TIPPING<i> 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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>What country you from!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><i>(petrified)</i></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>\"What\" ain\'t no country I know! Do they speak English in \"What?\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><i>(near heart attack)</i></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>English-motherfucker-can-you-speak-it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>Yes.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Then you understand what I\'m sayin\'?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>Yes.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Now describe what Marsellus Wallace looks like!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><i>(out of fear)</i></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules takes his .45 and </i>

RESSES<i> the barrel </i>HARD<i> in Brett\'s cheek.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Say \"What\" again! C\'mon, say \"What\" again! I dare ya, I double dare ya motherfucker, say \"What\" one more goddamn time!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Brett is regressing on the spot.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"2\">JULES</font></b></div><div><b>Now describe to me what Marsellus Wallace looks like!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Brett does his best.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>Well he\'s... he\'s... black –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>– go on!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><b>... and he\'s... he\'s... bald –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>– does he look like a bitch?!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><i>(without thinking)</i></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules\' eyes go to Vincent, Vincent smirks, Jules rolls his eyes and </i>SHOOT<i> Brett in the shoulder.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Brett </i>SCREAMS<i>, breaking into a </i>SHAKING<i>/</i>TREMBLING SPASM<i> in the chair.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Does-he-look-like-a-bitch?!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><i>(in agony)</i></div><div><b>No.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Then why did you try to fuck \'im like a bitch?!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><i>(in spasm)</i></div><div><b>I didn\'t.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Now in a lower voice.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Yes ya did Brett. Ya tried ta fuck \'im. You ever read the Bible, Brett?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT</b></div><div><i>(in spasm)</i></div><div><b>Yes.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The two men </i>EMPTY<i> their guns at the same time on the sitting Brett.</i></div><div> </div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>AGAINST BLACK, TITLE CARD:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><p><img src=\"http://img1.mtime.com/mg/2007/33/37c15775-46ac-4cee-ad23-59d8f1194be3.jpg\" align=\"top\" alt=\"\"/><font face=\"宋体, MS Song\">
</font></p><p><font face=\"Geneva,Arial,Sans-serif\"> </font></p>

爱君如斯 · 发表于 2007-12-15 17:36:00

<div><b>FADE IN:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MEDIUM SHOT – BUTCH COOLIDGE</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>We </i>FADE UP<i> on </i>BUTCH COOLIDGE<i>, a white, 26-year-old prizefighter. Butch sits at a table wearing a red and blue high school athletic jacket. Talking to him </i>OFF SCREEN<i> is everybody\'s boss </i>MARSELLUS WALLACE<i>. The black man sounds like a cross between a gangster and a king.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>A hand lays an envelope full of money on the table in front of Butch. Butch picks it up.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>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.\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I got no problem with that.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>In the fifth, your ass goes down.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch nods his head: \"Yes.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Say it!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>In the fifth, my ass goes down.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. CAR (MOVING) – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent Vega looks really cool behind the wheel of a 1964 cherry-red Chevy Malibu convertible. From the car radio, </i>ROCKABILLY MUSIC PLAYS<i>. The b.g. is a </i>COLORFUL PROCESS SHOT<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. SALLY LeROY\'S – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Sally LeRoy\'s is a large topless bat by </i>LAX<i> that Marsellus owns.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Vincent\'s classic Malibu </i>WHIPS<i> into the near empty parking lot and parks next to a white Honda Civic.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Vince knocks on the door. The front entrance is unlocked, revealing the Dapper Dan fellow on the inside:</i>ENGLISH DAVE<i>. 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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ENGLISH DAVE</b></div><div><b>Vincent Vega, our man in Amsterdam, git your ass on in here.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent, carrying the black briefcase from the scene between Vincent and Jules, steps inside. English Dave </i>SLAMS<i> the door in our faces.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. SALLY LeROY\'S – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The spacious club is empty this time of day. English Dave crosses to the bar, and Vince follows.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Where\'s the big man?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ENGLISH DAVE</b></div><div><b>He\'s over there, finishing up some business.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT\'S POV</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch</i>
<i>shakes hands with a huge figure with his back to us. The huge figure is the infamous and as of yet still </i>UNSEEN<i> Marsellus.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ENGLISH DAVE (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Hand 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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>How \'bout a cup of just plain ol\' American?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ENGLISH DAVE</b></div><div><b>Comin\' up. I hear you\'re taking Mia out tomorrow?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>At Marsellus\' request.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ENGLISH DAVE</b></div><div><b>Have you met Mia?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Not yet.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>English Dave smiles to himself.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What\'s so funny?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ENGLISH DAVE</b></div><div><b>Not a goddamn thing.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>English Dave puts Vince\'s coffee in front of him.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ENGLISH DAVE</b></div><div><b>My name\'s Paul, and this is between y\'all.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch bellies up to the bar next to Vincent, drinking his cup of \"

lain ol\' American.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><i>(to English Dave)</i></div><div><b>Can I get a pack\'a Red Apples?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ENGLISH DAVE</b></div><div><b>Filters?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Non.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>While Butch waits for his smokes, Vincent just sips his coffee, staring at him. Butch looks over at him.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Lookin\' at somethin\', friend?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I ain\'t your friend, palooka.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch does a slow turn toward Vincent.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>What was that?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I think ya heard me just fine, punchy.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch turns his body to Vincent, when... </i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Vincent Vega has entered the building, git your ass over here!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent walks forward </i>OUT OF FRAME<i>, never giving Butch another glance. We </i>DOLLY INTO CLOSEUP<i> on Butch, left alone in the </i>FRAME<i>, looking like he\'s ready to go into the manners-teaching business.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH\'S POV</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent hugging and kissing the obscured figure that is Marsellus.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch makes the wise decision that is this asshole\'s a friend of Marsellus, he better let it go – for now.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ENGLISH DAVE (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>

ack of Red Apples, dollar-forty.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch is snapped out of his ass-kicking thoughts. He pays English Dave and walks out of the </i>SHOT<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>DISSOLVE TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. LANCE\'S HOUSE (KITCHEN) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CLOSEUP – JODY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>... I\'ll lend it to you. It\'s a great book on body piercing.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jody, Vincent and a young woman named </i>TRUDI<i> 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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>TRUDI</b></div><div><b>You know how they use that gun when they pierce your ears? They don\'t use that when they pierce your nipples, do they?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"2\">JODY</font></b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vince has been letting this conversation go through one ear and out the other, until that last remark.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><i>(interrupting)</i></div><div><b>Excuse me, sorry to interrupt. I\'m curious, why would you get a stud in your tongue?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jody looks at him and says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>It\'s a sex thing. It helps fellatio.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Vince, you can come in now!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. LANCE\'S BEDROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Lance, late 20s, is a young man with a wild and woolly appearance that goes hand-in-hand with his wild and woolly personality. </i>LANCE<i> 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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Three bags of heroin lie on </i>Lance<i>\'s bed.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Lance andVincent stand at the foot of the bed.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>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... </b></div><div><i>(pointing to the Choco)</i></div><div><b>... 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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Remember, I just got back from Amsterdam.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>That\'s a bold statement.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent takes out a roll of money that would choke a horse to death.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Give me three hundred worth of the madman. If it\'s as good as you say, I\'ll be back for a thousand.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>I just hope I still have it. Whaddya think of Trudi? She ain\'t got a boyfriend, wanna hand out an\' get high?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Which one\'s Trudi? The one with all the shit in her face?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>No, that\'s Jody. That\'s my wife.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent and Lance giggle at the \"faux pas.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I\'m on my way somewhere. I got a dinner engagement. Rain check?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>No problem?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent takes out his case of the works (utensils for shooting up).</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>You don\'t mind if I shoot up here?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>Me casa, su casa.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Mucho gracias.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent takes his works out of his case and, as the two continue to talk, Vince shoots up.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>Still got your Malibu?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>You know what some fucker did to it the other day?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Fuckin\' keyed it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>Oh man, that\'s fucked up.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>They should be fuckin\' killed. No trial, no jury, straight to execution.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>As he cooks his heroin...</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>It\'s chicken shit. You don\'t fuck another man\'s vehicle.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CLOSEUP – THE NEEDLE</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Going into Vincent\'s vein.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CLOSEUP – BLOOD</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Spurting back into the syringe, mixing with the heroin.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CLOSEUP – VINCENT\'S THUMB</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>

ushing down on the plunger.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. MARSELLUS WALLACE\'S HOUSE – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent walks toward the house and pulls a note off the door</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CLOSEUP – NOTE</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Not reads:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>\"Hi Vincent,</i></div><div><b><font size=\"4\">I\'m getting dressed. The door\'s</font></b></div><div><i>open. Come inside and make</i></div><div><i>yourself a drink.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Mia\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA (V.O.)</b></div><div><b>Hi, Vincent. I\'m getting dressed. The door\'s open. Come inside and make yourself a drink.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE TO WHITE</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent enters on the background.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Hello?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>MIA<i>, 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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(into microphone)</i></div><div><b>Vincent.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent turns.</i></div><div> </div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(over intercom)</i></div><div><b>Vincent. I\'m on the intercom.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(into microphone)</i></div><div><b>It\'s on the wall by the two African fellas.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(over intercom)</i></div><div><b>To your right.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent walks.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>... warm. Warmer. Disco.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent finds the intercom on the wall.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Hello.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(over intercom)</i></div><div><b>

ush the button if you want to talk.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><i>(into intercom)</i></div><div><b>Hello.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(into microphone)</i></div><div><b>Go make yourself a drink., and I\'ll be down in two shakes of a lamb\'s tail.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(over intercom)</i></div><div><b>The bar\'s by the fireplace.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><i>(into intercom)</i></div><div><b>Okay.</b></div><div><i>(licks lips)</i></div><div> </div><div> </div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>A video screen with an image of Vincent, walking. The Dusty Springfield song continues.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Mia turns a knob which controls the movement of the video camera in Marcellus\' living room.</i></div><div> </div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent picks up a bottle of scotch. He sniffs the bottle, and then pours it into a glass.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>A razor blade cuts cocaine on a mirror.</i></div><div> </div><div> </div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent drinks a glass of scotch.</i></div><div> </div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia sniffs the cocaine.</i></div><div> </div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MARCELLUS\' HOUSE / LIVING ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent ips the drink and looks at a portrait of Mia on the wall.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Mia walks into the room, and takes the needle off a record. The Dusty Springfield song stops.</i></div><div> </div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Let\'s go.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. JACKRABBIT SLIM\'S – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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 Omelette, and over prices that pay for all this bullshit.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>But then there\'s </i>JACKRABBIT SLIM\'S<i>, the big mama of 50\'s diners. Either the best or the worst, depending on your point of view.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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: </i>JACKRABBIT SLIM\'S<i>. Underneath that is the slogan:\"Next best thing to a time machine.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What the fuck is this place?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>This is Jackrabbit Slim\'s. An Elvis man should love it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Come on, Mia, let\'s go get a steak.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>You can get a steak here, daddy-o. Don\'t be a... </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia draws a square with her hands. Dotted lines appear on the screen, forming a square. The lines disperse.</i></div><div> </div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>After you, kitty-cat.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. JACKRABBIT SLIM\'S – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>In the middle of the restaurant in a dance floor. A big sign on the wall states, \"No shoes allowed. \"So wannabe beboppers (actually Melrose-types), do the twist in their socks or barefeet.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The picture windows don\'t look out the street, but instead, B & W movies of 50\'s street scenes play behind them. The </i>WAITRESSES<i> and</i> WAITERS<i> are made up as replicas of 50\'s icons: </i>MARILYN MONROE<i>, </i>ZORRO<i>, </i>JAMES DEAN<i>,</i> DONNA REED<i>, </i>MARTIN<i> and </i>LEWIS<i>, and</i> THE PHILIP MORRIS MIDGET<i>, wait on tables wearing appropriate costumes.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Vincent and Mia study the menu in a booth made out of a red \'59 Edsel. </i>BUDDY HOLLY<i> (their waiter), comes over, sporting a big button on his chest that says: \"Hi I\'m Buddy, pleasing you please me.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUDDY</b></div><div><b>Hi I\'m Buddy, what can I get\'cha?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I\'ll have the Douglas Sirk steak.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUDDY</b></div><div><b>How d\'ya want it, burnt to a crisp, or bloody as hell?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Bloody as hell. And to drink, a vanilla coke.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUDDY</b></div><div><b>How \'bout you, Peggy Sue?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>I\'ll have the Durwood Kirby burger – bloody – and a five-dollar shake.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUDDY</b></div><div><b>How d\'ya want that shake, Martin and Lewis, or Amos and Andy?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Martin and Lewis.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Did you just order a five-dollar shake?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Sure did.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>A shake? Milk and ice cream?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Uh-huh.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>It costs five dollars?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUDDY</b></div><div><b>Yep.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>You don\'t put bourbon in it or anything?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUDDY</b></div><div><b>Nope.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Just checking.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Buddy exits.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent takes a look around the place. The </i>YUPPIES<i> are dancing, the </i>DINERS<i> 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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Whaddya think?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>It\'s like a wax museum with a pulse rate.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent takes out his pouch of tobacco and begins rolling himself a smoke.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>After a second of watching him –</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>What are you doing?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Rollin\' a smoke.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Here?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>It\'s just tobacco.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Oh. Well in that case, will you roll me one, cowboy?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>As he finishes licking it –</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>You can have his one, cowgirl.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Thanks.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Think nothing of it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>He begins rolling one for himself.</div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>As this time, the </i>SOUND<i> of a subway car fills the diner, making everything </i>SHAKE<i> and </i>RATTLE<i>. 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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Back to Mia and Vincent</i>.</div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Marsellus said you just got back from Amsterdam.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Sure did. I heard you did a pilot.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>That was my fifteen minutes.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What was it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>It was show about a team of female secret agents called \"Fox Force Five.\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>\"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... </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What was your specialty?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Do you remember any of the jokes?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Well I only got the chance to say one, \'cause we only did one show.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Tell me.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>No. It\'s really corny.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>C\'mon, don\'t be that way.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>No. You won\'t like it and I\'ll be embarrassed.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>You told it in front of fifty million people and you can\'t tell it to me? I promise I won\'t laugh.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(laughing)</i></div><div><b>That\'s what I\'m afraid of.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>That\'s not what I meant and you know it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>You\'re quite the silver tongue devil, aren\'t you?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I meant I wouldn\'t laugh at you.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>That\'s not what you said Vince. Well now I\'m definitely not gonna tell ya, \'cause it\'s been built up too much.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What a gyp.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Buddy comes back with the drinks. Mia wraps her lips around the straw of her shake.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Yummy!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Can I have a sip of that? I\'d like to know what a five-dollar shake tastes like.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Be my guest.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She slides the shake over to him.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>You can use my straw, I don\'t have kooties.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent smiles.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Yeah, but maybe I do.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Kooties I can handle.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He takes a sip.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Goddamn! That\'s a pretty fuckin\' good milk shake.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Told ya.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I don\'t know if it\'s worth five dollars, but it\'s pretty fuckin\' good.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He slides the shake back.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Then the first of an uncomfortable silence happens.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Don\'t you hate that?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it\'s necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I don\'t know.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>That\'s when you know you found somebody special. When you can just shit the fuck up for a minute, and comfortably share silence.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I don\'t think we\'re there yet. But don\'t feel bad, we just met each other.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I\'ll do that.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. JACKRABBIT SLIM\'S (LADIES ROOM) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia powders her nose by doing a big line of coke off the bathroom sink. Her head jerks up from the rush.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(imitating Steppenwolf)</i></div><div><b>I said goddamn!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. JACKRABBIT SLIM\'S (DINING AREA) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent digs into his Douglas Sirk steak. As he chews, his eyes scan the Hellsapopinish restaurant.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Mia comes back to the table.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Don\'t you love it when you go to the bathroom and you come back to find your food waiting for you?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Which one, there\'s two Marilyn Monroes.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>No there\'s not.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>

ointing at Marilyn in the white dress serving a table.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>That\'s Marilyn Monroe... </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Then, pointing at a </i>BLONDE WAITRESS<i> in a tight sweater and capri pants, taking an order from a bunch of </i>FILM GEEKS<i> –</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>... and that\'s Mamie Van Doren. I don\'t see Jayne Mansfield, so it must be her night off.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>

retty smart.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I have moments.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Did ya think of something to say?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Oooohhhh, this doesn\'t sound like mindless, boring, getting-to-know-you chit-chat. This sounds like you actually have something to say.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Only if you promise not to get offended.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Then let\'s just forget it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>That is an impossibility. Trying to forget anything as intriguing as this would be an exercise in futility.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Is that a fact?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia nods her head: \"Yes.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Besides, it\'s more exciting when you don\'t have permission.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What do you think about what happened to Antwan?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Who\'s Antwan?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Tony Rocky Horror.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>He fell out of a window.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Is that a fact?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>No it\'s not, it\'s just what I heard.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Who told you this?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>They.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia and Vincent smile.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>They talk a lot, don\'t they?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>They certainly do.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Well don\'t by shy Vincent, what exactly did they say?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent is slow to answer.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Let me help you Bashful, did it involve the F-word?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>No. They just said Rocky Horror gave you a foot massage.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>And...?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>No and, that\'s it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>You heard Marsellus threw Rocky Horror out of a four-story window because he massaged my feet?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Yeah.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>And you believed that?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>At the time I was told, it seemed reasonable.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Marsellus throwing Tony out of a four-story window for giving me a foot massage seemed reasonable?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>No, it seemed excessive. But that doesn\'t mean it didn\'t happen. I heard Marsellus is very protective of you.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>But did it happen?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>The only thing Antwan ever touched of mine was my hand, when he shook it. I met Antwan 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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ED SULLIVAN AND MARILYN MONROE STAND ON STAGE</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ED SULLIVAN</b></div><div><i>(into microphone)</i></div><div><b>Ladies and gentlemen, now the moment you\'ve all been waiting for, the world-famous Jackrabbit Slim\'s twist contest.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>

atrons cheer.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Ed Sullivan is with Marilyn Monroe, who holds a trophy.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ED SULLIVAN</b></div><div><b>... One lucky couple will win this handsome trophy that Marilyn here is holding.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Marilyn holds the trophy.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ED SULLIVAN</b></div><div><b>... Now, who will be our first contestants?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia holds her hand.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Right here.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent reacts.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>I wanna dance.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>No, no, no no, no, no, no, no.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(overlapping)</i></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><i>(sighs)</i></div><div><b>All right.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>So, dance good.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>All right, you asked for it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>Vincent and Mia walk onto the dance floor, toward Ed Sullivan.</div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ED SULLIVAN</b></div><div><i>(into microphone)</i></div><div><b>Let\'s hear it for our first contestants.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>

atrons cheer.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent and Mia walk up to the microphone.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ED SULLIVAN</b></div><div><b>Now let\'s meet our first contestants here this evening. Young lady, what is your name?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(into microphone)</i></div><div><b>Missus Mia Wallace.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ED SULLIVAN</b></div><div><i>(into microphone)</i></div><div><b>And, uh, how \'bout your fella here?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(into microphone)</i></div><div><b>Vincent Vega.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ED SULLIVAN</b></div><div><i>(into microphone)</i></div><div><b>All right, let\'s see what you can do. Take it away!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia and Vincent dance to Chuck Berry\'s \"You Never Can Tell\". They make hand movements as they dance.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MARSELLUS WALLACE\'S HOME – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The front door </i>FLINGS<i> 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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Then... </i></div><div> </div><div><i>The two just stand face to face looking at each other.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Was than an uncomfortable silence?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>I don\'t know what that was.</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>Music and drinks!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia moves away to attend to both. Vincent hangs up his overcoat on a big bronze coat rack in the alcove.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I\'m gonna take a piss.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>That was a little bit more information than I needed to know, but for right ahead.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent shuffles off to the john.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Mia moves to her CD player, thumbs through a stack of CDs and selects one: k.d. lang. The speakers </i>BLAST OUT<i> 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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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 </i>SLAPS<i> 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 </i>LOUDLY SNAPS<i> the Zippo closed.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><i>(like you would say Bingo!)</i></div><div><b>Disco! Vince, you little cola nut, you\'ve been holding out on me.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. BATHROOM (MARSELLUS WALLACE\'S HOUSE) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent stands at the sink, washing his hands, talking to himself in the mirror.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LIVING ROOM</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CLOSEUP – MIA</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Her head </i>JERKS<i> back. Her hands go to her nose (which feels like it\'s on fucking fire), something is terribly wrong. Then... the rush hits... </i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BATHROOM</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent dries his hands on a towel while he continues his dialogue with the mirror.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>... 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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LIVING ROOM</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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 </i>VOMITS<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BATHROOM</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vince continues.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LIVING ROOM</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Jesus Christ!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Mia is aware of Vincent over her, speaking to her.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><i>(sounding weird)</i></div><div><b>Mia! MIA! What the hell happened?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>But she\'s unable to communicate Mia makes a few lost mumbles, but they\'re not distinctive enough to be called words.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent props her eyelids open and sees the story.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><i>(to himself)</i></div><div><b>I\'ll be a son-of-a-bitch.</b></div><div><i>(to Mia)</i></div><div><b>Mia! MIA! What did you take? Answer me honey, what did you take?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>Mia is incapable of answering. He SLAPS her face hard.</div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent </i>SPRINGS<i> up and </i>RUNS<i> to his overcoat, hanging on the rack. He goes through the pockets </i>FRANTICALLY<i>. It\'s gone. Vincent makes a beeline to Mia. We follow.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><i>(yelling to Mia)</i></div><div><b>Okay honey, we\'re getting you on your feet.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He reaches her and hoists the dead weight up in his arms.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>We\'re on our feet now, and now we\'re gonna talk out to the car. Here we go, watch us walk.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>We follow behind as he hurriedly walks the practically-unconscious Mia through the house and out the front door.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div>

爱君如斯 · 发表于 2007-12-15 17:36:00

<div><b>EXT.VINCENT\'S HOT ROD (MOVING) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>INSERT SPEEDOMETER<i>: red needle on a hundred.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent driving like a madman in a town without traffic laws, speeds the car into turns and up and over hills.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. VINCENT\'S HOT ROD (MOVING) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent, one hand firmly on the wheel, the other shifting like Robocop, both eyes staring straight ahead except when he glances over at Mia.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia, slack-jawed expression, mouth gaping, posture of a bag of water.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Vincent takes a cellular phone out of his pocket. He punches a number.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. LANCE\'S HOUSE – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>At this late hour, </i>LANCE<i> has transformed from a bon vivant drug dealer to a bathrobe creature.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>On the big-screen TV in front of the table is the Three Stooges, and they\'re getting married.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

REACHER (EMIL SIMKUS)</b></div><div><i>(on TV)</i></div><div><b>Hold hands, you love birds.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The phone </i>RINGS<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Lance puts down his cereal and makes his way to the phone.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>It </i>RINGS<i> again.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Jody, his wife, </i>CALLS<i> from the bedroom, obviously woken up.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Lance! The phone\'s ringing!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><i>(calling back)</i></div><div><b>I can hear it!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>I thought you told those fuckin\' assholes never to call this late!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><i>(by the phone)</i></div><div><b>I told \'em and that\'s what I\'m gonna tell this fuckin\' asshole right now!</b></div><div><i>(he answers the phone)</i></div><div><b>Hello, do you know how late it is? You\'re not supposed to be callin\' me this fuckin\' late.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BACK TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT IN THE MALIBU</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent is still driving like a stripe-assed ape, clutching the phone to his ear. </i>WE CUT BACK AND FORTH<i> during the conversation.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Lance, this is Vincent, I\'m in big fuckin\' trouble man, I\'m on my way to your place.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>Whoa, hold you horses man, what\'s the problem?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>You still got an adrenalin shot?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><i>(dawning on him)</i></div><div><b>Maybe.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I need it man, I got a chick she\'s fuckin\' ODing on me.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>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! </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>No choice.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>She\'s ODin\'?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Yeah. She\'s dyin\'.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>Then bite the fuckin\' bullet, take \'er to a hospital and call a lawyer!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Negative.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>She ain\'t my fuckin\' problem, you fucked her up, you deal with it – are you talkin\' to me on a cellular phone?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Sorry.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>I don\'t know you, who is this, don\'t come here, I\'m hangin\' up.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Too late, I\'m already here.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>At that moment insideLance\'s house, </i>WE HEARVINCENT<i>\'s Malibu coming up the street. Lance hangs up the phone, goes to his curtains and </i>YANKS<i> the cord. The curtains open with a WHOOSH in time to see Vincent\'s Malibu </i>DRIVING UP<i> on his front lawn and </i>CRASHING<i> into his house. The window Lance is looking out of </i>SHATTERS<i> from the impact.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>What the hell was that?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Lance </i>CHARGES<i> from the window, out the door to his front lawn.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. LANCE\'S HOUSE – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent is already out of the car, working on getting Mia out.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>Have you lost your mind?! You crashed your car in my fuckin\' house! You talk about drug shit on a cellular fuckin\' phone –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>If you\'re through havin\' your little hissy fit, this chick is dyin\', get your needle and git it now!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>Are you deaf? You\'re not bringin\' that fucked up bitch in my house!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. LANCE\'S HOUSE – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>WE START<i> in Lance\'s and Jody\'s bedroom.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>We follow </i>HANDHELD<i> behind her as she opens the door, walking through the hall into the living room.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>It\'s only one-thirty in the goddamn mornin\'! What the fuck\'s goin\' on out here?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>From here on in, everything in this scene is frantic, like a</i> DOCUMENTARY<i> in an emergency ward, with the big difference here being nobody knows what the fuck they\'re doing.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>Who\'s she?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Lance looks up at Jody.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>Get that black box in the bedroom I have with the adrenaline shot.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>What\'s wrong with her?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>She\'s ODing on us.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>Well get her the hell outta here!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE ANDVINCENT</b></div><div><i>(in stereo)</i></div><div><b>Get the fuckin\' shot!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>Don\'t yell and me!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She angrily turns and disappears into the bedroom looking for the shot.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div>WE MOVE<i> into the room with the two men.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><i>(to Lance)</i></div><div><b>You two are a match made in heaven.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>Look, just keep talkin\' to her, okay? While she\'s gettin\' the shot, I gotta get a medical book.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What do you need a medical book for?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>To tell me how to do it. I\'ve never given an adrenaline shot before.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>You\'ve had that thing for six years and you never used it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>I never had to use it. I don\'t go joy-poppin\' with bubble-gummers, all of myfriends can handle their highs!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Well then get it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>I am, if you\'ll let me.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I\'m not fuckin\' stoppin\' you.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>Stop talkin\' to me, and start talkin\' to her.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>WE FOLLOW <i>Lance as he runs out of the living room into a... </i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. SPARE ROOM</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>From </i>OFF SCREEN<i> we hear:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Hurry up man! We\'re losin\' her!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><i>(calling back)</i></div><div><b>I\'m looking as fast as I can!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Lance continues his frenzied search.</i></div><div> </div><div>WE HEAR<i> Jody in the living room now as she talks to Vincent.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>What\'s he lookin\' for?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>I dunno, some medical book.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jody calls to </i>LANCE<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>What are you lookin\' for?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>My black medical book!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>As he continues searching, flipping and knocking over shit, Jody appears in the doorway.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>Whata re you looking for?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>My black fuckin\' medical book. It\'s like a text book they give to nurses.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>I never saw a medical book.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>Trust me, I have one.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>Well if it\'s that important, why didn\'t you keep it with the shot? </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Lance spins toward her.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>I don\'t know! Stop bothering me!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>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 –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>– get your ass in here, fuck the book!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Lance angrily knocks over a pile of shit and leaves the </i>SHOT<i> heading for the living room.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LIVING ROOM</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent is bent over Mia, talking softly to her, when Lance reenters the room.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Quit fuckin\' around man and give her the shot!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Lance bends down by the black case brought in by Jody. He opens it and begins preparing the needle for injection.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>While I\'m doing this, take her shirt off and find her heart.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vince rips her blouse open.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Jody stumbles back in the room, hanging back from the action.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Does it have to be exact?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>Yeah, it has to be exact! I\'m giving her an injection in the heart, so I gotta exactly hit her in the heart.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Well, I don\'t know exactly where her heart is, I think it\'s here.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vince points to Mia\'s right breast. Lance glances over and nods.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>That\'s it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>As Lance readies the injection, Vincent looks up at Jody.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I need a big fat magic marker, got one?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I need a big fat magic marker, any felt pen\'ll do, but a magic marker would be great.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>Hold on.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The injection is ready. Lance hands Vincent the needle.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>It\'s ready, I\'ll tell you what to do.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>You\'re gonna give her the shot.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>No, you\'re gonna give her the shot.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I\'ve never does this before.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jody hurriedly joins them in the huddle, a big fat red magic marker in her hand.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>Got it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent grabs the magic marker out of Jody\'s hand and makes a big red dot in Mia\'s body where her heart is.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Okay, what do I do?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Lance demonstrates a stabbing motion, which looks like \"The Shape\" killing its victims in \"Halloween\".</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I gotta stab her?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What happens after that?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>I\'m curious about that myself.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>This ain\'t a fuckin\' joke man!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>She\'s supposed to come out of it like –</b></div><div><i>(snaps his fingers)</i></div><div><b>– that.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent lifts the needle up above his head in a stabbing motion. He looks down on Mia.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia is fading fast. Soon nothing will help her.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Vincent\'s eyes narrow, ready to do this.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Count to three.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Lance, on this knees right beside Vincent, does not know what to expect.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>One... </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>RED DOT<i> on Mia\'s body.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Needle raised ready to strike.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>... two... </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jody\'s face is alive with anticipation.</i></div><div> </div><div>NEEDLE<i> in that air, poised like a rattler ready to strike.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>... three!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The needle leaves frame, </i>THRUSTING<i> down hard.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Vincent brings the needle down hard, </i>STABBING <i>Mia in the chest.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Mia\'s head if </i>JOLTED<i> from the impact.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The syringe plunger is pushed down, </i>

UMPING<i> the adrenaline out through the needle.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Mia\'s eyes </i>

OP WIDE OPEN<i> and she lets out a </i>HELLISH<i> cry of the banshee. She </i>BOLTS UP<i> in a sitting position, needle stuck in her chest – </i>SCREAMING<i>.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Vincent, Lance and Jody, who were in sitting positions in front of Mia, </i>JUMP BACK<i>, scared to death.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Mia\'s scream runs out. She slowly starts taking breaths of air.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The other three, now scooted halfway across the room, shaken to their bones, look to see if she\'s alright.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>LANCE</b></div><div><b>If you\'re okay, say something.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia, still breathing, not looking up at them, says in a relatively normal voice.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Something.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent and Lance collapse on their backs, exhausted and shaking from how close to death Mia came.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JODY</b></div><div><b>Anybody want a beer?</b></div>

爱君如斯 · 发表于 2007-12-15 17:37:00

<div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"6\">INT. VINCENT\'S MALIBU (MOVING) – NIGHT</font></b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent is behind the wheel driving Mia home. No one says anything, both are still too shaken.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. FRONT OF MARSELLUS WALLACE\'S HOUSE – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Mia!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She turns around.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent\'s out of the car, standing on the walkway, a big distance between the two.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What are your thoughts on how to handle this?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>What\'s yours?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Well I\'m of the opinion that Marsellus can live his whole live and never ever hear of this incident.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia smiles.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Don\'t worry about it. If Marsellus ever heard of this, I\'d be in as much trouble as you.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I seriously doubt that.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>If you can keep a secret, so can I.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Let\'s shake on it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The two walk toward each other, holding out their hands to shake and shake they do.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Mum\'s the word.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Vincent smiles.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>If you\'ll excuse me, I gotta go home and have a heart attack.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia giggles.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent turns to leave.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>You still wanna hear my \"Fox Force Five\" joke?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent turns around.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Sure, but I think I\'m still a little too petrified to laugh.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Uh-huh. You won\'t laugh because it\'s not funny. But if you still wanna hear it, I\'ll tell it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I can\'t wait.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>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 –</b></div><div><i>(stamps on the ground)</i></div><div><b>– and says: catch up.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>They both smile, but neither laugh.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>See ya \'round, Vince.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Mia turns and walks inside her house.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CLOSEUP – VINCENT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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 </i>FRAME<i> leaving it empty. </i>WE HEAR<i> his Malibu </i>START UP<i> and </i>DRIVE AWAY<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"1\">FADE TO BLACK</font></b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE UP</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"1\"> </font></b></div><div><b><font size=\"1\">ON THE CARTOON \"SPEED RACER\"</font></b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div>OFF SCREEN<i> we hear a </i>WOMAN\'S VOICE<i>... .</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>WOMAN\'S VOICE (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Butch.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>DISSOLVE TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH\'S POV</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>We\'re in the living room of a modest two bedroom house in Alhambra, California, in the year 1972. </i>BUTCH\'SMOTHER<i>, 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 </i>CAMERA<i> is the perspective of a five-year old boy.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MOTHER</b></div><div><b>Butch, stop watching TV a second. We got a special visitor. Now do you remember when I told you your daddy dies in a POW camp?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Uh-huh.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MOTHER</b></div><div><b>Well this here is Capt. Koons. He was in the POW camp with Daddy.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>CAPT. KOONS<i> 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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CAPT. KOONS</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Captain pulls a gold wrist watch out of his pocket.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CAPT. KOONS</b></div><div><b>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\'s 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 disentary, 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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Capt. Koons hands the watch to Butch. A little hand comes into </i>FRAME<i> to accept it.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. LOCKER ROOM – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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 </i>WE CUT<i> to him, he wakes up with a start. Shaken by the bizarre memory, he wipes his sweaty face with his boxing glove.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>His trainer </i>KLONDIKE<i>, 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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>KLONDIKE</b></div><div><b>It\'s time, Butch.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I\'m ready.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Klondike steps inside, closing the door on the </i>WILD MOB<i> 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\".</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE TO BLACK</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>TITLE CARD:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><p><font face=\"Geneva,Arial,Sans-serif\"></font><font face=\"宋体, MS Song\"> </font></p><p><img src=\"http://img2.mtime.com/mg/2007/33/96364746-0c86-48e5-9956-7f856f17aa02.jpg\" align=\"top\" alt=\"\"/></p>

爱君如斯 · 发表于 2007-12-15 17:38:00

<div><b>WE HEAR OVER THE BLACK AND WHITE TITLE:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>SPORTSCASTER #1 (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>– Well Dan, that had to be the bloodiest and, hands-down, the most brutal fight this city has ever seen.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The </i>SOUND<i> of chaos in the b.g.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE IN:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. ALLEY (RAINING) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>A taxi is parked in a dark alley next to an auditorium. The sky is </i>

ISSIN\' DOWN RAIN<i>.</i> WE SLOWLY DOLLY<i> toward the parked car. The </i>SOUND<i> of the </i>CAR RADIO<i> can be heard coming from inside.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>SPORTSCASTER #1 (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>... 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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>SPORTSCASTER #2 (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>DISSOLVE TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. TAXI (PARKED / RAINING) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Inside the taxi, behind the wheel, is a female cabbie named </i>ESMARELDA VILLALOBOS<i>. A young woman, with Spanish looks, sits parked, drinking a steaming hot cup of coffee out of a white styrofoam cup.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Sportscasters continue their coverage.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>SPORTSCASTER #1 (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Do you feel this ring death tragedy will have an effect on the world of boxing?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>SPORTSCASTER #2 (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>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 –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Esmarelda shuts off the radio.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She takes a sip of coffee, then hears a </i>NOISE<i> behind her in the alley. She sticks her head out of the car door to see:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. BOXING AUDITORIUM (RAINING) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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, </i>LEAPS<i> to the dumpster below.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div>ESMARELDA\'S REACTION<i> takes in the strangeness of this sight.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Gym bag in hand, Butch</i> CLIMBS<i> out of the dumpster and </i>RUNS<i> to the taxi. Before he climbs in, he takes off his robe and throws it to the ground.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. TAXI (PARKED / RAINING) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch, soaking wet, naked except for trunks, shoes and gloves, </i>HOPS<i> in the backseat, </i>SLAMMING<i> the door.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Esmarelda, staring straight ahead, talks to Butch through the rearview mirror:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><i>(Spanish accent)</i></div><div><b>Are you the man I was supposed to pick up?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>If you\'re the cab I called, I\'m the guy you\'re supposed to pick up.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>Where to?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Outta here.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The ignition key is </i>TWISTED<i>. The engine </i>ROARS<i> to life.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The meter is </i>FLIPPED<i> on.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Esmarelda\'s bare foot </i>STOMPS<i> on the gas pedal.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. BOXING AUDITORIUM (RAINING) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The cab </i>WHIPS<i> out of the alley, </i>FISH-TAILING<i> on the wet pavement in front of the auditorium at a rapid pace.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. WILLIS LOCKER ROOM (AUDITORIUM) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Locker room door opens, Enghlish 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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Mia. How you doin\'?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MIA</b></div><div><b>Great. I never thanked you for the dinner.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>In the room, black boxer </i>FLOYD RAY WILLIS<i> lies on a table – dead. His face looks like he went dunking for bees. His </i>TRAINER<i> is on his knees, head on Floyd\'s chest, crying over the body.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Mia sits in a chair at the far end of the room.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Marsellus looks up, sees English Dave and walks over to him.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>What\'cha got?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ENGLISH DAVE</b></div><div><b>He booked.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ENGLISH DAVE</b></div><div><b>I\'ll take care of it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. CAB (MOVING / RAINING) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch gets one of his boxing gloves off.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Esmeralda watches in the rearview mirror.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>He tries to roll down one of the backseat windows, but can\'t find the roll bar.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Hey, how do I open the window back here?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>I have to do it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She presses a button and the back window moves down. Butch tosses his boxing glove out the window, then starts untying the other one.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Esmeralda can\'t keep quiet anymore.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>Hey, mister?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><i>(still working on the glove)</i></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>You were in that fight? The fight on the radio – you\'re the fighter?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>As he tosses his other glove out the window.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Whatever gave you that idea?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>No c\'mon, you\'re him, I know you\'re him, tell me you\'re him.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><i>(drying himself with a gym towel)</i></div><div><b>I\'m him.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>You killed the other boxing man.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>He\'s dead?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>The radio said he was dead.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He finished wiping himself down.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><i>(to himself)</i></div><div><b>Sorry \'bout that, Floyd.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He tosses the towel out the window.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Silence, as Butch digs in his bag for a T-shirt.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>What does it feel like?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><i>(finds his shirt)</i></div><div><b>What does what feel like?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>Killing a man. Beating another man to death with your bare hands.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch pulls on his tee-shirt.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Are you some kinda weirdo?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Tell ya what, you give me one of them cigarettes, I\'ll give you an answer.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Esmarelda bounces in her seat with excitement.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>Deal!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>He takes a long drag.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>So... </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He looks at her license</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>... Esmarelda Villalobos – is that Mexican?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>The name is Spanish, but I\'m Columbian.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>It\'s a very pretty name.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>It mean \"Esmarelda of the wolves.\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>That\'s one hell of a name you got there, sister.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>Thank you. And what is your name?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Butch.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>Butch. What does it mean?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I\'m an American, our names don\'t mean shit. Anyway, moving right along, what is it you wanna know, Esmarelda?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>I want to know what it feels like to kill a man –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>– 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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Esmarelda nods her head: \"yes.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I don\'t feel the least little bit bad.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. PHONE BOOTH (RAINING) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>We </i>DOLLY<i> around a phone booth as Butch talks inside.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><i>(into phone)</i></div><div><b>What\'s 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?</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>Eight? How long to collect?</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>So by tomorrow evening, you\'ll have it all?</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch hangs up the phone. He looks at the cab waiting to take him wherever he wants to go.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><i>(to himself in French with English subtitles)</i></div><div><b>Fabienne my love, our adventure begins.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. MOTEL (STOPPED / RAINING) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>Forty-five sixty.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Handing her the money.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Merci beaucoup. And here\'s a little something for the effort.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch holds up a hundred dollar bill.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Esmarelda\'s eyes light up. She goes to take it. Butch holds it out of reach.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Now if anybody should ask you about who your fare was tonight, what\'re you gonna tell \'em?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><b>The truth. Three well-dressed, slightly toasted, Mexicans.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He gives her the bill.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Bon soir, Esmarelda.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ESMARELDA</b></div><div><i>(in Spanish)</i></div><div><b>Sleep well, Butch.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He tweaks her nose, she smiles, and he turns and walks away. She drives off.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. MOTEL (ROOM SIX) – NIGHT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch enters and turns on the light.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Lying curled up on the bed, fully dressed, with her back to us is Butch\'s French girlfriend, </i>FABIENNE<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Keep the light off.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch flicks the switch back, making the room dark again.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Is that better, sugar pop?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Oui. Hard day at the office?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>

retty hard. I got into a fight.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>

oor baby. Can we make spoons?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch climbs into bed, spooning Fabienne from behind.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>When Butch and Fabienne speak to each other, they speak in baby-talk.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>I was looking at myself in the mirror.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Uh-huh?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>I wish I had a pot.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>You were lookin\' in the mirror and you wish you had some pot?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>A pot. A pot belly. Pot bellies are sexy.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Well you should be happy, \'cause you do.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I didn\'t realize there was a difference between a tummy and a pot belly.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>The difference is huge.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>You want me to have a pot?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>You think guys would find that attractive?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>If I had a pot belly, I\'d punch you in it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>You\'d punch me in my belly?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Right in the belly.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>I\'d smother you. I\'d drop it on your right on your face \'til you couldn\'t breathe.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>You\'d do that to me?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Yes!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Did you get everything, sugar pop?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Yes, I did.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Good job.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Did everything go as planned?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>You didn\'t listen to the radio?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>I never listen to your fights. Were you the winner?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I won alright.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Are you still retiring?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Sure am.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>What about the man you fought?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Floyd retired too.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><i>(smiling)</i></div><div><b>Really?! He won\'t be fighting no more?!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Not no more.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>So it all worked out in the finish?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>We ain\'t at the finish, baby.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne rolls over and</i>
<i>Butch gets on top of her. They kiss.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>We\'re in a lot of danger, aren\'t we?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch nods his head: \" Yes.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>If they find us, they\'ll kill us, won\'t they?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch nods his head: \" Yes.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>But they won\'t find us, will they?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch nods his head: \"No.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Do you still want me to go with you?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch nods his head: \" Yes.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>I don\'t want to be a burden or a nuisance –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch\'s hand goes out of frame and starts massaging her crotch.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne reacts.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Say it!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Fabienne, I want you to be with me.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Forever?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>... and ever.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne lies her head back.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch continues to massage her crotch.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Do you love me?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Oui.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Butch? Will you give me oral pleasure?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch kisses her on the mouth.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Will you kiss it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She nods her head: \" Yes.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>But you first.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch\'s head goes down out of frame to carry out the oral pleasure. Fabienne\'s face is alone in the frame.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><i>(in French, with English subtitles)</i></div><div><b>Butch my love, the adventure begins.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE TO BLACK</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE UP:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MOTEL ROOM</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Same motel room, except empty. </i>WE HEAR THE SHOWER RUNNING<i> in the bathroom. The </i>CAMERA MOVES<i> 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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I think I cracked a rib.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Giving me oral pleasure?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>No retard, from the fight.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Don\'t call me retard.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><i>(in a Mongoloid voice)</i></div><div><b>My name is Fabby! My name is Fabby!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Shut up fuck head! I hate that Mongoloid voice.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Okay, sorry, sorry, sorry, I take it back! Can I have a towel please, Miss Beautiful Tulip.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Oh I like that, I like being called a tulip. Tulip is much better than Mongoloid.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She finishes drying her hair and wraps the towel like a turban on her head.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I didn\'t call you a Mongoloid, I called you a retard, but I took it back.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She hands him a towel.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Merci beaucoup.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Butch?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><i>(drying his head)</i></div><div><b>Yes, lemon pie.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Where are we going to go?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>So if we wanted, we could live in Bora Bora?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>You betcha. And if after awhile you don\'t dig Bora Bora, then we can move over to Tahiti or Mexico.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>But I do not speak Spanish.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>You don\'t speak Bora Boran either. Besides, Mexican is easy: Donde esta el zapataria?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>What does that mean?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Where\'s the shoe store?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Donde esta el zapataria?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Excellent pronunciation. You\'ll be my little mama ceta in no time.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch exits the bathroom. We stay on Fabienne as she brushes her teeth.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch keeps on from the other room.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Que hora es?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Que hora es?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>What time is it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>What time is it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Time for bed. Sweet dream, jellybean.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne brushes her teeth. We watch her for a moment or two, then she remember something.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Butch.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She walks out of the bathroom to ask Butch a question, only to find him sound asleep in bed.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>She looks at him for a moment.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Forget it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She exits frame, going back in the bathroom. </i>WE STAY<i> on the </i>WIDE SHOT<i> of the unconscious Butch in bed.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE TO BLACK</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE UP:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MOTEL ROOM – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>SAME SHOT AS BEFORE<i>, the next morning. We find Butch still asleep in bed.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><b>ON TV: </b>WILLIAM SMITH<i> and a </i>BUNCH OF HELL\'S ANGELS<i> are taking on the entire Vietnamese army in the film \"The Losers\".</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch wakes from his sleep, as if a scary monster was chasing him. His start startles Fabienne.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Merde! You startled me. Did you have a bad dream?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch squints down the front of the bed at her, trying to focus.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch, still trying to chase the cobwebs away, sees on TV Hell\'s Angels tear-assin\' through a Vietnamese prison camp.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>What are you watching?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>A motorcycle movie, I\'m not sure the name.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Are you watchin\' it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne enters the room.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>In a way. Why? Would you like for me to switch it off?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Would you please?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She reaches over and turns off the TV.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>It\'s a little too early in the morning for explosions and war.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>What was it about?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>How should I know, you were the one watchin\' it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne laughs.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>No, imbecile, what was your dream about?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Oh, I... don\'t remember. It\'s really rare I remember a dream.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>You just woke up from it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Fabienne, I\'m not lying to you, I don\'t remember.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I don\'t talk in my sleep, do I talk in my sleep?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>You did last night.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>What did I say?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Laying on top of him.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>I don\'t know. I couldn\'t understand you.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She kisses Butch.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Why don\'t you get up and we\'ll get some breakfast at that breakfast place with the pancakes.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>One more kiss and I\'ll get up.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne gives Butch a sweet long kiss.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Satisfied?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Yep.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Then get up, lazy bones.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch climbs out of bed and starts pulling clothes out of the suitcase that Fabienne brought.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>What time is it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Almost nine in the morning. What time does our train arrive?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Eleven.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>I\'m gonna order a big plate of blueberry pancakes with maple syrup, eggs over easy, and five sausages.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><i>(surprised at her potential appetite)</i></div><div><b>Anything to drink with that?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch is finished dressing.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><i>(referring to his clothes)</i></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>As he goes through the suitcase.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>

ie for breakfast?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>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 –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>– where\'s my watch?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>It\'s there.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>No, it\'s not. It\'s not here.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Have you looked?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>By now, Butch is frantically rummaging through the suitcase.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Yes I\'ve fuckin\' looked!!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>He\'s now throwing clothes.</div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>What the fuck do you think I\'m doing?! Are you sure you got it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne can hardly speak, she\'s never seen Butch this way.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Uhhh... yes... beside the table drawer –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>– on the little kangaroo.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Yes, it was on your little kangaroo.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Well it\'s not here!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><i>(on the verge of tears)</i></div><div><b>Well it should be!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Oh it most definitely should be here, but it\'s not. So where is it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne is crying and scared.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch lowers his voice, which only serves to make him more menacing.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>I believe so... </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>You believe so? You either did, or you didn\'t, now which one is it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Then I did.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Are you sure?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><i>(shaking)</i></div><div><b>No.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch freaks out, he punches the air.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Fabienne </i>SCREAMS<i> and backs into a corner,</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch picks up the motel TV and </i>THROWS IT AGAINST<i> the wall.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Fabienne </i>SCREAMS IN HORROR<i>.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch looks toward her, suddenly calm.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"2\">BUTCH</font></b></div><div><i>(to Fabienne)</i></div><div><b>No! It\'s not your fault.</b></div><div><i>(he approached her)</i></div><div><b>You left it at the apartment.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He bends down in front of the woman who has sunk to the floor.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>He touches her hand, she flinches.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He kisses her hand. Then rises.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Fabienne is still sniffling.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch goes to the closet.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>I\'m sorry.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch puts on his high school jacket.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Don\'t be. It just means I won\'t be able to eat breakfast with you.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Why does it mean that?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Because I\'m going back to my apartment to get my watch.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Won\'t the gangsters be looking for you there?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>That\'s what I\'m gonna find out. If they are, and I don\'t think I can handle it, I\'ll split.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Rising from the floor.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>I was so dreadful. I saw your watch, I thought I brought it. I\'m so sorry.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch brings her close and puts his hands on her face.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Don\'t feel bad, sugar pop. Nothing you could ever do would make me permanently angry at you.</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>I love you, remember?</b></div><div><i>(he digs some money out of his wallet)</i></div><div><b>Now here\'s some money, order those pancakes and have a great breakfast.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Don\'t go.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I\'ll be back before you can say, blueberry pie.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Blueberry pie.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Well maybe not that fast, but fast. Okay? Okay?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Okay.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He kisses her once more and heads for the door.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Bye-bye, sugar pop.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Bye.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I\'m gonna take your Honda.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Okay.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>And with that, he\'s out the door.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Fabienne sits on the bed and looks at the money he gave her</i></div>

爱君如斯 · 发表于 2007-12-15 17:39:00

<div><b>INT. HONDA (MOVING) – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>Butch is beating the steering wheel and the dash with his fists as he drives down the street.</div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>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.\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. CITY STREET</b><b> – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The little Honda races toward its destination as fast as is little engine will take it.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div> </div><div><i>A parking meter red flag rises up, then out, leaving the arrow pointing at one hour.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. RESIDENTIAL STREET CORNER – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. ALLEY – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch walks down the alley until he gets to another street, then he discreetly glances out.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. STREET – BUTCH\'S APARTMENT – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch peers around a wall, taking in the vital information.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch walks out of the alley and is ready for anything. He crosses the street and enters his apartment courtyard.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. BUTCH\'S APARTMENT COURTYARD – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch climbs the stairs leading to his apartment, number 12. He steps outside the door and listens inside. Nothing.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch slowly inserts the key into the door, quietly opening it.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. BUTCH\'S APARTMENT – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>His apartment hasn\'t been touched.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>He cautiously steps inside, shuts the door and takes a quick look around. Obviously, no one is there.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch walks into his modest kitchen, and opens the refrigerator. He takes out a carton of milk and drinks from it.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>With carton in hard, Butch surveys the apartment. Then he goes to the bedroom.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Sure enough, there\'s the watch just like he said it was: On the bedside table, hanging on his little kangaroo statue.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch glances to his right, his eyes fall on something.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>What he sees is a small compact Czech M61 submachine gun with a huge silencer on it, lying on his kitchen counter.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><i>(softly)</i></div><div><b>Holy shit.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He picks up the intimidating peace of weaponry and examines it.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Then... a toilet </i>FLUSHES<i>.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch looks up to the bathroom door, which is parallel to the kitchen. There is someone behind it.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Like a rabbit caught in a radish patch, Butch freezes, not knowing what to do.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Vincent and Butch lock eyes.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Vincent freezes.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch doesn\'t move, except to point the M61 in Vincent\'s direction.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Neither man opens his mouth.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Then... the toaster </i>LOUDLY<i> kicks up the Pop Tarts.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>That\'s all the situation needed.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch\'s finger </i>HITS<i> the trigger.</i></div><div> </div><div>MUFFLED FIRE SHOOTS<i> out of the end of the gun.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Vincent is seemingly </i>WRACKED<i> with twenty bullets </i>SIMULTANEOUSLY<i> – </i>LIFTING<i> him off his feet, </i>

ROPELLING<i> him through the air and </i>CRASHING<i> through the glass shower door at the end of the bathroom.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>By the time Butch removes his finger from the trigger, Vincent is annihilated.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>With the respect it deserves, Butch carefully places the M61 back on the kitchen counter.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Then he exits the apartment, quickly.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. APARTMENT COURTYARD – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch, not running, but walking very rapidly, crosses the courtyard...</i></div><div> </div><div><i>... comes out of the apartment building, crosses the street...</i></div><div> </div><div><i>... goes through the alley...</i></div><div> </div><div><i>... and into his car in one </i>STEADICAM SHOT<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. HONDA – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch </i>CRANKS<i> the car into gear and drives away. The big wide smile of a survivor breaks across his face.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING STREET – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Honda turns down the alley and slowly cruises by his apartment building.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. HONDA – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch looks out the window at his former home.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>That\'s how you\'re gonna beat \'em, Butch. They keep underestimatin\' ya.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>This makes the boxer laugh out loud. As he laughs, he flips a tape in the cassette player. When the </i>MUSIC<i> starts, he </i>SINGS<i> along with it.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>He drives by the apartment, but is stopped at the light on the corner across from Teriyaki Donut.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch is still chuckling, singing along with the song, as we see:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Laughing boy stops when he sees the big man directly in front of him.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>When Marsellus is in front of Butch\'s car, he casually glances to his left, sees Butch, continues walking... then </i>STOPS<i>!</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>DOUBLE-TAKE:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>\"Am I really seeing what I\'m seeing?\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch doesn\'t wait for the big man to answer his own question. He </i>STOMPS<i> on the gas pedal.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The little Honda </i>SLAMS<i> into Marsellus, sending him, the donuts and the coffee </i>HITTING<i> the pavement at thirty miles an hour.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch </i>CUTS<i> into cross traffic and is </i>BROAD-SIDED<i> by a gold Camaro Z-28, </i>BREAKING<i> all the windows in the Honda and sending it up on the sidewalk.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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 </i>

EDESTRIAN<i> pokes his head inside.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

EDESTRIAN</b></div><div><b>Jesus, are you okay?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch look at him, spaced-out.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I guess.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Marsellus Wallace lies sprawled out in the street. </i>GAWKERS<i> gather around the body.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>GAWKER #1</b></div><div><i>(to the others)</i></div><div><b>He\'s dead! He\'s dead!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>This jerk\'s yelling makes Marsellus come to.</i></div><div> </div><div>TWO PEDESTRIANS<i> help the shaken Butch out of the wreckage.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The woozy Marsellus gets to his feet.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>GAWKER #2</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS</b></div><div><i>(still incoherent)</i></div><div><b>Who?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>GAWKER #2</b></div><div><i>(pointing at Butch)</i></div><div><b>Him.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Marsellus follows the Gawker\'s finger and sees Butch Coolidge down the street, looking a shambles.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS</b></div><div><b>Well, I\'ll be damned.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>The big man takes out a .45 Automatic and the Gawkers back away. Marsellus starts moving toward Butch.</div><div> </div><div><i>Butch sees the fierce figure making a wobbly bee-line toward him.</i></div><div> </div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Sacre bleu.</b></div><div> </div><div><i>Marsellus brings up his weapon and </i>FIRES<i>, but he\'s so hurt, shaky and dazed that his arm goes wild.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>He </i>HITS<i> a </i>LOOKY-LOO WOMAN<i> in the hip. She falls to the ground, screaming.</i></div><div> </div><div><b>LOOKY-LOO WOMAN</b></div><div><b>Oh my God, I\'ve been shot!</b></div><div> </div><div><i>That\'s all Butch needs to see. He\'s outta here.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Marsellus </i>RUNS<i> after him.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The </i>CROWD<i> looks agape.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch is in a mad, limping </i>RUN<i>.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The big man\'s hot on his ass with a cockeyed wobbly run.</i></div><div> </div><div>Butch cuts across traffic and dashes into a business with a sign that reads \"MASON-DIXIE PAWNSHOP\".</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><b><font size=\"5\">INT. MASON-DIXIE PAWNSHOP – DAY</font></b></div><div> </div><div>MAYNARD<i>, a hillbilly-lookin\' boy, stands behind the counter of his pawnshop when, all of a sudden, chaos in the form of Butch </i>RACES<i> into his world.</i></div><div> </div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>Can I help you wit\' somethin\'?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"3\">BUTCH</font></b></div><div><b>Shut up!</b></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch quickly takes measure of the situation, than stands next to the door.</i></div><div> </div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>Now you just wait one goddamn minute –</b></div><div> </div><div><i>Before Maynard can finish his threat, Marsellus </i>CHARGES<i> in. He doesn\'t get past the doorway because Butch </i>LANDS<i> his fist in Marsellus\' face.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The gangster\'s feet go out from under him and the big man </i>FALLS FLAT<i> on his back.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Outside, two police cars with their </i>SIRENS BLARING<i> race by.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch </i>

OUNCES<i> on the fallen body, </i>

UNCHING<i> him twice more in the face.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div>Butch takes the gun out of Marsellus\' hand, than grabs ahold of his middle finger.</div><div> </div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>So you like chasing people, huh?</b></div><div> </div><div><i>He </i>BREAKS<i> the finger. Marsellus lets out a pain sound. Butch then places the barrel of the .45 between his eyes, </i>

ULLS<i> back the hammer and places his open hand behind the gun to shield the splatter.</i></div><div> </div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Well guess what, big man, you caught me –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>– hold it right there, godammit!</b></div><div> </div><div>Butch and Marsellus look up at Maynard, who\'s brandishing a pump-action shotgun, aimed at the two men.</div><div> </div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Look mister, this ain\'t any of your business –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>– I\'m makin\' it my business! Now toss that gun!</b></div><div> </div><div>Butch does.</div><div> </div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>Now you on top, stand up and come to the counter.</b></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch slowly gets up and moves to the counter. As soon as he gets there, Maynard </i>HAULS OFF<i>, </i>HITTING<i> him hard in the face with the butt of the shotgun, knocking Butch down and out.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>After Butch goes down, Maynard calmly lays the shotgun on the counter and moves to the telephone.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><b><font size=\"3\">MAYNARD</font></b></div><div><b>Zed? It\'s Maynard. The spider just caught a coupl\'a flies.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>Marsellus passes out.</div><div> </div><div><b>FADE TO BLACK</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE UP:</b></div><div> </div><div> </div><div><b>INT. PAWNSHOP BACK ROOM – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>TWO SHOT – BUTCH AND MARSELLUS</b></div><div> </div><div><i>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 </i>SPRAYS<i> both guys until they\'re wide awake and wet as otters. The two prisoners look up at their captors.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Maynard stands in front of them, fire extinguisher in one hand, shotgun in the other, and Marsellus\' .45 sticking in his belt.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>Nobody kills anybody in my place of business except me or Zed.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>A </i>BUZZER<i> buzzes.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>That\'s Zed.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Without saying another word, Maynard climbs up the stairs that lead to red curtains and goes through them.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div>WE HEAR<i>, on the other side of the curtains, Maynard let Zed inside the store.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Maynard and </i>ZED<i> 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:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div>ZED</div><div><i>(to Maynard)</i></div><div><b>You said you waited for me?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>I did.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ZED</b></div><div><b>Then how come they\'re all beat up?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>They did that to each other. They was fightin\' when they came in. This one was gonna shoot that one.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ZED</b></div><div><i>(to Butch)</i></div><div><b>You were gonna shoot him?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>Butch makes no reply.</div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ZED</b></div><div><b>Hey, is Grace gonna be okay in front of this place?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>Yeah, it ain\'t Tuesday is it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ZED</b></div><div><b>No, it\'s Thursday.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>Then she\'ll be fine.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ZED</b></div><div><b>Bring out The Gimp.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>I think The Gimp\'s sleepin\'.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ZED</b></div><div><b>Well, I guess you\'ll just wake \'em up then, won\'t you?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Maynard opens a trap door in the floor.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><i>(yelling in the hole)</i></div><div><b>Wake up!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Maynard reaches into the hole and comes back holding onto a leash. He gives it a rough yank and, from below the floor, rises </i>THE GIMP<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><i>(to The Gimp)</i></div><div><b>Down!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Gimp gets on its knees.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Maynard hangs back while Zed appraises the two men.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>Who\'s first?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ZED</b></div><div><b>I ain\'t fer sure yet.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch are Marsellus are terrified.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Maynard looks back and forth at the victims.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The Gimps\'s eyes go from one to the other inside the mask.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Zed continues his silent sing-song with his finger moving left to right, then it stops.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>TWO SHOT – BUTCH AND MARSELLUS</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>After a beat,</i> THE CAMERA MOVES<i> to the right, zeroing in on Marsellus.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Zed stands up.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ZED</b></div><div><b>Wanna do it here?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>Naw, drag big boy to Russell\'s old room.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Zed grabs Marsellus\' chair and </i>DRAGS<i> 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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>As Marsellus is dragged away, he locks eyes with Butch before he disappears behind the door of Russell\'s old room.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><i>(to The Gimp)</i></div><div><b>Up!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Gimp rises. Maynard ties The Gimp\'s leash to a hook on the ceiling.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD</b></div><div><b>Keep an eye on this one.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch looks at The Gimp. The Gimp giggles from underneath the mask as if this were the funniest moment in the history of comedy.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>From behind the door we hear country </i>MUSIC<i>, struggling, and:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Whoa, this boy\'s got a bit of fight in \'em!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>We the </i>HEAR<i> Maynard and Zed beat on Marsellus.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>ZED (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>You wanna fight? You wanna fight? Good, I like to fight!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch pauses, listens to the voices. Then, in a panic, hurriedly struggles to get free.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Gimp is laughing wildly.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The ropes are on too tight and Butch can\'t break free.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The Gimp slaps his knee laughing</i></div><div> </div><div><i>In the back room, we hear:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MAYNARD (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>That\'s it... that\'s it boy, you\'re goin\' fine. Oooooooh, just like that... that\'s good.</b></div><div><i>(grunting faster)</i></div><div><b>Stay still... stay still goddamn ya! Zed goddammit, git over here and hold \'em!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The Gimp sees this and its eyes widen.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE GIMP</b></div><div><b>Huhng?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Gimp </i>FLAILS WILDLY<i>, trying to get the leash off the hook. He tries to yell, but all that comes out are excited gurgles and grunts.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch is out of his chair, quickly dispensing three </i>BOXER\'S PUNCHES<i> to its face. The punches knock The Gimp out, making him fall to his knees, this </i>HANGING HIMSELF<i> by the leash attached to the hook,</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch removes the ball gag, then silently makes his way through the red curtains.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. PAWNSHOP – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch sneaks to the door.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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:</i></div><div> </div><div><i>A Samurai sword.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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 ist 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 Ken-style, he disappears through the red curtains to take care of business.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. PAWNSHOP BACK ROOM – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. RUSSELL\'S OLD ROOM – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Maynard faces the </i>CAMERA<i>, grinning, while Butch comes up behind him with the sword.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Hey hillbilly.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Maynard turns and sees Butch holding the sword.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch </i>SCREAMS<i>... with one mighty </i>SWING<i>, </i>SLASHES<i> Maynard across the front, moving past him, eyes and blade now locked on Zed.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Maynard stands trembling, his front sliced open, in shock.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch, while never taking his eyes off Zed,</i> THRUSTS<i> the sword behind him, </i>SKEWERING<i> Maynard, then </i>EXTRACTS<i> it, pointing the blade toward Zed. Maynard </i>COLLAPSES<i>.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch\'s eyes follow Zed\'s.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>You want that gun, Zed? Pick it up.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Zed\'s hand inches toward the weapon.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch </i>GRIPS<i> the sword tighter.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Zed studies Butch.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch looks hard at Zed.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Then a </i>VOICE<i> says:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Step aside, Butch.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch steps aside, </i>REVEALING<i> Marsellus standing behind him, holding Maynard\'s pump-action shotgun.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div>KABOOM<i>!!!!</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Zed is </i>BLASTED<i> in the groin. Down he goes, </i>SCREAMING<i> in </i>AGONY<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Marsellus, looking down at his whimpering rapist, </i>EJECTS<i> the used shotgun shell.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch lowers the sword and hangs back. Not a word, until:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>You okay?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"2\">MARSELLUS</font></b></div><div><b>Naw man. I\'m pretty fuckin\' far from okay!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Long pause.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>What now?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><i>(to Zed)</i></div><div><b>Hear me talkin\' hillbilly boy?! I ain\'t through with you by a damn sight. I\'m gonna git Medieval on your ass.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I meant what now, between me and you?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS</b></div><div><b>Oh, that what now? Well, let me tell ya what now between me an\' you. There is no me an\' you. Not no more.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>So we\'re cool?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS</b></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Deal.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The two men shake hands, then hug one another.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS</b></div><div><b>Go on now, get your ass outta here.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch leaves Russell\'s old room through the red curtains. Marsellus walks over to a phone, dialing a number.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS</b></div><div><i>(into the phone)</i></div><div><b>Hello Mr. Wolf, it\'s Marsellus. Gotta bit of a situation.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. MASON-DIXIE PAWNSHOP – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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 \"</i>GRACE<i>\" on it. He climbs aboard, takes out the keys with the big Z on them and starts up the huge hog. It </i>RUMBLES<i> to life, making sounds like a rocket fighting for orbit. Butch twists the accelerator handle and </i>SPEEDS<i> off.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>WE CUT BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN... </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. BUTCH AND FABIENNE\'S HOTEL ROOM – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne stands in front of a mirror wearing a \"Frankie says, Relax\" tee-shirt, singing along with </i>MUSIC<i> coming from a </i>BOOM BOX<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. CITY STREET – CHOPPER (MOVING) – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch drives down the street, humping a hot dog named \"</i>GRACE<i>.\" He checks his father\'s watch. It says: 10:30.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The </i>SONG<i> in the motel room </i>

LAYS OVER<i> this.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. MOTEL ROOM – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Butch rides up on Grace. He hops off and runs inside the motel room, while we stay outside with the bike.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Butch, I was so worried!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Honey, grab your radio and your purse and let\'s go!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>But what about all our bags?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Fuck the bags. We\'ll miss our train if we don\'t split now.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Is everything well? Are we in danger?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>We\'re cool. In fact, we\'re super-cool. But we gots to go. I\'ll wait for you outside.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Where did you get this motorcycle?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"3\">BUTCH</font></b></div><div><i>(he kick-starts it)</i></div><div><b>It\'s a chopper, baby, hop on.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne slowly approaches the two-wheel demon.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>What happened to my Honda?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Sorry baby, I crashed the Honda.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>You\'re hurt?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I might\'ve broke my nose, no biggie. Hop on.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>She doesn\'t move.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Butch looks at her.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Honey, we gotta hit the fuckin\' road!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne starts to cry.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I\'m sorry, baby-love.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><i>(crying)</i></div><div><b>You were gone so long, I started to think dreadful thoughts.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>I\'m sorry I worried you, sweetie. Everything\'s fine. Hey, how was breakfast?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><i>(waterworks drying a little)</i></div><div><b>It was good –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>– did you get the blueberry pancakes?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>No, they didn\'t have blueberry pancakes, I had to get buttermilk – are you sure you\'re okay?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Fabienne does climb on. Butch </i>STARTS<i> her up.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Butch, whose motorcycle is this?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>It\'s a chopper.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Whose chopper is this?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Zed\'s.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FABIENNE</b></div><div><b>Who\'s Zed?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BUTCH</b></div><div><b>Zed\'s dead, baby, Zed\'s dead.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>And with that, the two lovebirds </i>

EEL AWAY<i> on Grace, as the </i>SONG<i> on the </i>BOOM BOX RISES<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE TO BLACK</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>TITLE CARD:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><p><font face=\"Geneva,Arial,Sans-serif\"></font></p><p><img src=\"http://img2.mtime.com/mg/2007/33/f45a58dc-1709-4b85-8b64-47c23ae9735e.jpg\" align=\"top\" alt=\"\"/>
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爱君如斯 · 发表于 2007-12-15 17:41:00

<div><b>TITLE DISAPPEARS</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Over black, we can </i>HEAR<i> in the distance, men talking.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>You ever read the Bible, Brett?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>BRETT (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Yes!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>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...\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE UP:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. BATHROOM – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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 </i>FOURTH MAN<i>. The Fourth Man is pacing around the small room, listening hard to what\'s being said on the other side of the door, tightly </i>CLUTCHING<i> his huge silver .357 Magnum.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>\"... blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherd 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.\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>BANG! BANG! BOOM! POW! BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Fourth Man freaks out. He </i>THROWS<i> 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.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Then he listens to them talk.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Friend of yours?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>Yeah, Marvin-Vincent-Vincent-Marvin.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. APARTMENT – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The bathroom door </i>BURSTS OPEN<i> and the Fourth Man </i>CHARGES<i> out, silver Magnum raised, </i>FIRING SIX BOOMING SHOTS<i> from his hand cannon.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FOURTH MAN</b></div><div><b>Die... die... die... die...!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>DOLLY INTO</b><i> Fourth Man, same as before.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He </i>SCREAM<i> until he\'s dry firing. Then a look of confusion crosses his face.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"6\"> </font></b></div><div><b><font size=\"6\">TWO SHOT – JULES AND VINCENT</font></b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FOURTH MAN</b></div><div><b>I don\'t understand –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Fourth Man is taken out of the scenario by the two men\'s bullets who, unlike his, </i>HIT<i> their marks. He drops </i>DEAD<i>.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><i>(to himself)</i></div><div><b>We should be fuckin\' dead right now.</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>Did you see that gun he fired at us? It was bigger than him.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>.357.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>We should be fuckin\' dead!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Yeah, we were lucky.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules rises, moving toward</i>
<i>Vincent.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>That shit wasn\'t luck. That shit was somethin\' else.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent prepares to leave.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Yeah, maybe.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>That was... divine intervention. You know what divine intervention is?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Yeah, I think so. That means God came down from Heaven and stopped the bullets.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Yeah, man, that\'s what is means. That\'s exactly what it means! God came down from Heaven and stopped the bullets.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I think we should be going now.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Don\'t do that! Don\'t you fuckin\' do that! Don\'t blow this shit off! What just happened was a fuckin\' miracle!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Chill the fuck out, Jules, this shit happens.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Wrong, wrong, this shit doesn\'t just happen.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Do you wanna continue this theological discussion in the car, or at the jailhouse with the cops?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>We should be fuckin\' dead now, my friend! We just witnessed a miracle, and I want you to fuckin\' acknowledge it!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Okay man, it was a miracle, can we leave now?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. HOLLYWOOD APARTMENT BUILDING – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Chevy Nova </i>

ROPELS<i> itself into traffic.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. NOVA (MOVING) – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules is behind the wheel, Vincent in the passenger seat and Marvin in the back.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>... 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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>If you wanna play blind man, then go walk with a Shepherd. But me, my eyes are wide fuckin\' open.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What the fuck does that mean?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>That\'s it for me. For here on in, you can consider my ass retired.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Jesus Christ!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Don\'t blaspheme!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Goddammit, Jules –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>– I said don\'t do that –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>– you\'re fuckin\' freakin\' out!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I\'m tellin\' Marsellus today I\'m through.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>While you\'re at it, be sure to tell \'im why.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Don\'t worry, I will.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I\'ll bet ya ten thousand dollars, he laughs his ass off.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I don\'t give a damn if he does.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>Vincent turns to the backseat with the .45 casually in his grip.</div><div> </div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Marvin, what do you make of all this?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARVIN</b></div><div><b>I don\'t even have an opinion.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>C\'mon, Marvin. Do you think God came down from Heaven and stopped the bullets?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent\'s .45 goes BANG!</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Marvin is hit in the upper chest, below the throat. He </i>GURGLES<i> blood and </i>SHAKES<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"2\">JULES</font></b></div><div><b>What the fuck\'s happening?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I just accidentally shot Marvin in the throat.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Why the fuck did you do that?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I didn\'t mean to do it. I said it was an accident.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I\'ve seen a lot of crazy-ass shit in my time –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>– chill out, man, it was an accident, okay? You hit a bump or somethin\' and the gun went off.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>The car didn\'t hit no motherfuckin\' bump!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Look! I didn\'t mean to shoot this son-of-a-bitch, the gun just went off, don\'t ask me how!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Look at this mess! We\'re drivin\' around on a city street in broad daylight –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>– I know, I know, I wasn\'t thinkin\' about the splatter.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Can\'t we just take it to a friendly place?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>This is the Valley, Vincent. Marsellus don\'t got no friendly places in the Valley.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Well, don\'t look at me, this is your town, Jules.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules takes out a cellular phone and starts punching digits.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Who ya callin\'?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>A buddy of mine in Toluca Lake.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Where\'s Toluca Lake.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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. </b></div><div><i>(into phone)</i></div><div><b>Jimmie! How you doin\' man, it\'s Jules.</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. JIMMIE\'S BATHROOM – DAY</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules is bent over a sink, washing his bloody hands while Vincent stands behind him.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>We gotta be real fuckin\' delicate with this Jimmie\'s situation. He\'s one remark away from kickin\' our asses out the door.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>If he kicks us out, whadda we do?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules rises and dries his hands. Vincent takes his place at the sink.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Just tell \'im not to be abusive. He kinda freaked out back there when he saw Marvin.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>

ut 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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent finishes, then dries his hands on a white towel.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>If the price of that favor is I gotta take shit, he can stick his favor straight up his ass.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>When Vincent is finished drying his hands, the towel is stained with red.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>What the fuck did you just do to his towel?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I was just dryin\' my hands.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>You\'re supposed to wash \'em first.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>You watched me wash \'em.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I watched you get \'em wet.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I washed \'em. Blood\'s real hard to get off. Maybe if he had some Lava, I coulda done a better job.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Jules, you ask me nice like that, no problem. He\'s your friend, you handle him.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. JIMMIE\'S KITCHEN – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Three men are standing in Jimmie\'s kitchen, each with a mug of coffee. Jules, Vincent and </i>JIMMIE DIMMICK<i>, a young man in his late 20s dressed in a bathrobe.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>Knock it off, Julie.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Jimmie –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>– 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?\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules starts to \"Jimmie\" him –</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>– answer to question. Did you see a sign out in front of my house that said, \"Dead nigger storage?\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><i>(playing along)</i></div><div><b>Naw man, I didn\'t.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>You know why you didn\'t see that sign?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Why?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>\'Cause storin\' dead niggers ain\'t my fuckin\' business!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules starts to \"Jimmie\" him.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>– 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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Jimmie –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>– 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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>That\'s all we want. We don\'t wanna fuck up your shit. We just need to call our people to bring us in.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>Then I suggest you get to it. Phone\'s in my bedroom.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"6\">INT. MARSELLUS WALLACE\'S DINING ROOM – MORNING</font></b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Marsellus Wallace sits at his dining table in a big comfy robe, eating his large breakfast, while talking on the phone.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> MARSELLUS</b></div><div><b>... well, say she comes home. Whaddya think she\'ll do?</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. JIMMIE\'S BEDROOM – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules paces around in Jimmie\'s bedroom on the phone.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS</b></div><div><b>I\'ve grasped that, Jules. All I\'m doin\' is contemplating the \"ifs.\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>You sendin\' The Wolf?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MARSELLUS</b></div><div><b>Feel better?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Shit Negro, that\'s all you had to say.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. HOTEL SUITE – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The </i>CAMERA<i> looks through the bedroom doorway of a hotel suite into the main area. We </i>SEE<i> a crap game being played on a fancy crap table by </i>GAMBLERS<i> in tuxedos and </i>LUCKY LADIES<i> in fancy evening gowns. The </i>CAMERA PANS<i> to the right revealing: Sitting on a bed, phone in hand with his back to us, the tuxedo-clad </i>WINSTON WOLF<i> aka \"</i>THE WOLF<i>\". We also see The Wolf has a small notepad that he jots details in.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><i>(into phone)</i></div><div><b>Is she the hysterical type?</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>When she due?</b></div><div><i>(jotting down)</i></div><div><b>Give me the principals\' names again?</b></div><div><i>(jots down)</i></div><div><b>Jules...</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>We </i>SEE<i> his book. The page has written on it:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>\"1265 Riverside Drive</i></div><div><i>Toluca</i><i> Lake</i></div><div><i>1 body (no head)</i></div><div><i>Bloody shot-up car</i></div><div><i>Jules (black)\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b><font size=\"3\">THE WOLF</font></b></div><div><b>... Vincent... Jimmie... Bonnie...</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He writes:</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>\"Vincent (Dean Martin)</i></div><div><i>Jimmie (house)</i></div><div><i>Bonnie (9:30)\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Expect a call around 10:30. It\'s about thirty minutes away. I\'ll be there in ten.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He hangs up. We never see his face.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>TITLE CARD OVER BLACK:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>\"NINE MINUTES AND THIRTY-SEVEN SECONDS LATER\"</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>CUT TO:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. JIMMIE\'S STREET – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>A silver Porsche </i>WHIPS<i> the corner leading to Jimmie\'s home, in </i>HYPER DRIVE<i>. Easily doing 135 mph, the Porsche stops on a dime in front of Jimmie\'s house.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>A ringed finger touches the doorbell: </i>DING DONG<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. JIMMIE\'S HOUSE – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jimmie opens the door. We see, standing in the doorway, the tuxedo-clad man. He looks down to his notebook, then up at Jimmie.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>You\'re Jimmie, right? This is your house?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>Yeah.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><i>(stick his hand out)</i></div><div><b>I\'m Winston Wolf, I solve problems.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>Good, \'cause we got one.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>So I heard. May I come in?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>

lease do.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>In the dining room, Jules and Vincent stand up.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>100%.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Your wife, Bonnie... </b></div><div><i>(refers to his pad)</i></div><div><b>... comes home at 9:30 in the AM, is that correct?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>Uh-huh.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>I was led to believe if she comes home and finds us here, she wouldn\'t appreciate it none too much.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>She won\'t at that.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>That give use 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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. JIMMIE\'S GARAGE – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The three men hand back as The Wolf examines the car. He studies the car in silence, opening the door, looking inside, circling it.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Jimmie?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>Yes.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Do me a favor, will ya? Thought I smelled some coffee in there. Would you make me a cup?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>Sure, how do you take it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Lotsa cream, lotsa sugar.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jimmie exists. The Wolf continues his examination.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Aside from how it looks, the car\'s cool.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>

ositive? Don\'t get me out on the road and I find out the brake lights don\'t work.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Hey man, as far as I know, the motherfucker\'s tip-top.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Good enough, let\'s go back to the kitchen.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. KITCHEN – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jimmie hands The Wolf a cup of coffee.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Thank you, Jimmie.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He takes a sip, then, pacing as he thinks, lays out for the three men the plan of action.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Okay first thing, you two.</b></div><div><i>(meaning Jules and Vincent)</i></div><div><b>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 cleaners and cleaners and shit like that, am I correct?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>Yeah. Exactly. Under the sink.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>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 in. 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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Wolf and Jimmie turn, heading for the bedroom, leaving Vincent and Jules standing in the kitchen.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><i>(calling after him)</i></div><div><b>A \"please\" would be nice.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Wolf stops and turns around.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Come again?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I said a \"please\" would be nice.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Wolf takes a step toward him.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>It ain\'t that way, Mr. Wolf. Your help is definitely appreciated.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I don\'t mean any disrespect. I just don\'t like people barkin\' orders at me.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. JIMMIE\'S BEDROOM – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jimmie\'s gathering all the bedspreads, quilts and linen he has. The Wolf is on the phone.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><i>(into phone)</i></div><div><b>It\'s a 1974 Chevy Nova.</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>White.</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>Nothin\', except for the mess inside.</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>About twenty minutes.</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>Nobody who\'ll be missed.</b></div><div><i>(pause)</i></div><div><b>You\'re a good man, Joe. See ya soon.</b></div><div><i>(he looks at Jimmie)</i></div><div><b>How we comin\', Jimmie?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jimmie comes over with a handful of linen.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>Mr. Wolf, you gotta understand somethin\' –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>– Winston, Jimmie – please, Winston.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>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 –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>– let me ask you a question, if you don\'t mind?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>Sure.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Were you Uncle Conrad and Aunt Ginny millionaires?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>No.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><i>(takes out a roll of bills)</i></div><div><b>I like oak myself, that\'s what\'s in my bedroom. How \'bout you Jimmie, you an oak man?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>Oak\'s nice.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. GARAGE – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I will never forgive your ass for this shit. This is some fucked-up repugnant shit!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Did you ever hear the philosophy that once a man admits he\'s wrong, he\'s immediately forgiven for all wrong-doings?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. CHEVY NOVA – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Wolf circles the car examining it.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Fine job, gentlemen. We may get out of this yet.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>I can\'t believe that\'s the same car.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. JIMMIE\'S BACKYARD – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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 nossles attached.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Strip.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>All the way?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>To your bare ass.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>As they follow directions, The Wolf enjoys a smoke.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Quickly gentlemen, we got about fifteen minutes before Jimmie\'s better-half comes pulling into the driveway.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>This morning air is some chilly shit.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>You know what you two look like?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Now Jimmie, don\'t do nothin\' stupid like puttin\' that out in front of your house for Elmo the garbage man to take away.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Don\'t worry, we\'re takin\' it with us. Jim, the soap.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He hands the now-naked men a bar of soap.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Okay gentlemen, you\'re both been to County before, I\'m sure. Here it comes.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He hits the trigger, water </i>SHOOTS OUT<i>, </i>SMACKING<i> both men.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Goddamn, that water\'s fuckin\' cold!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Better you than me, gentlemen.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The two men, trembling, scrub themselves.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Don\'t be afraid of the soap, spread it around.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Wolf stops the hose, tossing it on the ground.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Towel \'em.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jimmie tosses them each a towel, which they rub furiously across their bodies.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>You\'re dry enough, give \'em their clothes.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE UP ON:</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES ANDVINCENT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>In their tee-shirts and swim trunks. They look a million miles away from the black-suited, bad-asses we first met.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>

erfect. Perfect. We couldn\'t\'ve planned this better. You guys look like... what do they look like, Jimmie?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>Dorks. They look like a couple of dorks.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Wolf and Jimmie laugh.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Ha ha ha. They\'re your clothes, motherfucker.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JIMMIE</b></div><div><b>I guess you just gotta know how to wear them.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Yeah, well, out asses ain\'t the expert on wearin\' dorky shit that your is.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>C\'mon, gentlemen, we\'re laughin\' and jokin\' our way into prison. Don\'t make me beg.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. JIMMIE\'S GARAGE – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The garbage bag is tossed in the car trunk on top of Marvin. The Wolf </i>SLAMS<i> is closed.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>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. </b></div><div><i>(to Jules)</i></div><div><b>What did I say?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Don\'t do shit unless –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>– unless what?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Unless you do it first.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Spoken like a true prodigy.</b></div><div><i>(to Vincent)</i></div><div><b>How \'bout you, Lash Larue? Can you keep your spurs from jingling and jangling?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I\'m cool, Mr. Wolf. My gun just went off, I dunno how.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>THE WOLF</b></div><div><b>Fair enough.</b></div><div><i>(he throws Vince his car keys)</i></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>EXT. MONSTER JOE\'S TRUCK AND TOW – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules and Vincent wait by Winston\'s Porsche.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>We cool?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>WINSTON</b></div><div><b>Like it never happened.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules and Vincent bump fists.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>WINSTON</b></div><div><b>Boys, this is Raquel. Someday, all this will be hers.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>RAQUEL</b></div><div><i>(to the boys)</i></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Winston laughs, the boys groan.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>WINSTON</b></div><div><b>I\'m takin\' m\'lady out to breakfast. Maybe I can drop you two off. Where do you live?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Redondo Beach</b><b>.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Inglewood</b><b>.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Winston grabs Jules\' wrist and pantomimes like he\'s in a \"Dead Zone\" trance.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>WINSTON</b></div><div><i>(painfully)</i></div><div><b>It\'s your future: I see... a cab ride.</b></div><div><i>(dropping the act)</i></div><div><b>Sorry guys, move out of the sticks.</b></div><div><i>(to Raquel)</i></div><div><b>Say goodbye, Raquel</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>RAQUEL</b></div><div><b>Goodbye, Raquel.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>WINSTON</b></div><div><b>I\'ll see you two around, and stay outta trouble, you crazy kids.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Winston turns to leave.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Mr. Wolf.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He turns around.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I was a pleasure watchin\' you work.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Wolf smiles.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>WINSTON</b></div><div><b>Call me Winston.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He turns and banters with Raquel as they get in the Porsche.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>WINSTON</b></div><div><b>You hear that, young lady? Respect. You could lean a lot from those two fine specimens. Respect for one\'s elders shows character.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>RAQUEL</b></div><div><b>I have character.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>WINSTON</b></div><div><b>Just because you are a character doesn\'t mean you have character.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>RAQUEL</b></div><div><b>Oh you\'re so funny, oh you\'re so funny.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Porsche </i>SHOOTS OFF<i> down the road.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>The two men left alone look at each other.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Wanna share a cab?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>You know I could go for some breakfast. What to have breakfast with me?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Sure.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. COFFEE SHOP – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Thanks a bunch.</b></div><div><i>(to Jules, who\'s nursing his coffee)</i></div><div><b>Want a sausage?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Naw, I don\'t eat pork.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Are you Jewish?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I ain\'t Jewish man, I just don\'t dig on swine.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Why not?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>They\'re filthy animals. I don\'t eat filthy animals.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Sausages taste good. Pork chops taste good.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>How about dogs? Dogs eat their own feces.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I don\'t eat dog either.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Yes, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>So by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, he\'s cease to be a filthy animal?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>We\'d have to be talkin\' \'bout one motherfuckin\' charmin\' pig. It\'d have to be the Cary Grant of pigs.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The two men laugh.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Good for you. Lighten up a little. You been sittin\' there all quiet.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I just been sittin\' here thinkin\'.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><i>(mouthful of food)</i></div><div><b>About what?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>The miracle we witnessed.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>The miracle you witnessed. I witnessed a freak occurrence.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Do you know that a miracle is?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>An act of God.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>What\'s an act of God?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>But why?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>That\'s what\'s fuckin\' wit\' me! I don\'t know why. But I can\'t go back to sleep.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>So you\'re serious, you\'re really gonna quit?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>The life, most definitely.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent takes a bite of food. Jules takes a sip of coffee In the b.g., we see a </i>

ATRON<i> call the Waitress.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

ATRON</b></div><div><b>Garcon! Coffee!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>We recognize the patron to be Pumpkin from the first scene of Pumpkin and Honey Bunny.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>So if you\'re quitting the life, what\'ll you do?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What do you mean, walk the earth?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>You know, like Caine in \"Kung Fu.\" Just walk from town to town, meet people, get in adventures.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>How long do you intend to walk the earth?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Until God puts me where he want me to be.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>What if he never does?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>If it takes forever, I\'ll wait forever.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>So you decided to be a bum?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I\'ll just be Jules, Vincent – no more, no less.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>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!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Look my friend, this is just where me and you differ –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>– what happened was peculiar – no doubt about it – but it wasn\'t water into wine.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>All shapes and sizes, Vince.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Stop fuckin\' talkin\' like that!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>If you find my answers frightening, Vincent, you should cease askin\' scary questions.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I gotta take a shit. To be continued.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent exits for the restroom.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Jules, alone, takes a mouthful of muffin, then... Pumpkin and Honey Bunny rise with guns raised.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

UMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Everybody be cool, this is a robbery!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>HONEY BUNNY</b></div><div><b>Any of you fuckin\' pricks move and I\'ll execute every one of you motherfuckers! Got that?!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules looks up, not believing what he\'s seeing. Under the table, Jules\' hand goes to his .45 Automatic. He pulls it out, </i>COCKING IT<i>.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

UMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Customers stay seated, waitresses on the floor.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>HONEY BUNNY</b></div><div><b>Now mean fuckin\' now! Do it or die, do it or fucking die!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Like lightning, Pumpkin moves over to the kitchen. While Honey Bunny </i>SCREAMS<i> out threats to the </i>

ATRONS<i>, keeping them terrified.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>You Mexicans in the kitchen, get out here! Asta luego!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Three</i> COOKS<i> and two </i>BUSBOYS<i> come out of the kitchen.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>On the floor or I\'ll cook you ass, comprende?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>They comprende. The portly </i>MANAGER<i> speaks up.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MANAGER</b></div><div><b>I\'m the manager here, there\'s no problem, no problem at all –</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Pumpkin head his way.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>You\'re gonna give me a problem?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He reaches him and sticks the barrel of his gun hard in the Manager\'s neck.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>What? You said you\'re gonna give me a problem?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MANAGER</b></div><div><b>No, I\'m not. I\'m not gonna give you any problem!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>I don\'t know, Honey Bunny. He looks like the hero type to me!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>HONEY BUNNY</b></div><div><b>Don\'t take any chances. Execute him!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>The Patrons </i>SCREAM<i>. Jules watches all this silently, his hand tightly gripping the .45 Automatic under the table.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MANAGER</b></div><div><b>Please don\'t! I\'m not a hero. I\'m just a coffee shop manager. Take anything you want.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Tell everyone to cooperate and it\'ll be all over.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MANAGER</b></div><div><b>Everybody just be calm and cooperate with them and this will be all over soon!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Well done, now git your fuckin\' ass on the ground.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>INT. COFFEE SHOP BATHROOM – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>Vincent, on the toilet, oblivious to the pandemonium outside, reads his \"Modesty Blaise\" book.</div><div><b> </b></div>

爱君如斯 · 发表于 2007-12-15 17:41:00

<div><b>INT. COFFEE SHOP – MORNING</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

UMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Okay people, I\'m going to go \'round and collect your wallets. Don\'t talk, just toss \'em in the bag. We clear?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>

umpkin goes around collecting wallets. Jules sits with his .45 ready to spit under the table.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>

umpkin 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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

UMPKIN</b></div><div><b>In the bag.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules </i>DROPS<i> his wallet in the bag. Using his gun as a pointer, Pumpkin points to the briefcase.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

UMPKIN</b></div><div><b>What\'s in that?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>My boss\' dirty laundry.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

UMPKIN</b></div><div><b>You boss makes you do his laundry?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>When he wants it clean.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

UMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Sounds like a shit job.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Funny, I\'ve been thinkin\' the same thing.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

UMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Open it up.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules\' free hand lays palm flat on the briefcase.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>\'Fraid I can\'t do that.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>

umpkin is definitely surprised by his answer. He aims the gun right in the middle of Jules\' face and pulls back the hammer.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>

UMPKIN</b></div><div><b>I didn\'t hear you.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Yes, you did.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>This exchange has been kind of quiet, not everybody heard it, but Honey Bunny senses something\'s wrong.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>HONEY BUNNY</b></div><div><b>What\'s goin\' on?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Looks like we got a vigilante in our midst.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>HONEY BUNNY</b></div><div><b>Shoot \'em in the face!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>I don\'t mean to shatter your ego, but this ain\'t the first time I\'ve had gun pointed at me.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>You don\'t open up that case, it\'s gonna be the last.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>MANAGER</b></div><div><i>(on the ground)</i></div><div><b>Quit causing problems, you\'ll get us all killed! Give \'em what you got and get \'em out of here.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Keep your fuckin\' mouth closed, fat man, this ain\'t any of your goddamn business!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>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... </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>... two... three.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>You win.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules raises his hand off the briefcase.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>It\'s all yours, Ringo.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Open it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules flips the locks and opens the case, revealing it to Pumpkin but not to us. The same light </i>SHINES<i> from the case. Pumpkin\'s expression goes to amazement. Honey Bunny, across the room, can\'t see shit.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>HONEY BUNNY</b></div><div><b>What is it? What is it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><i>(softly)</i></div><div><b>Is that what I think it is?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div>Jules nods his head: \"yes.\"</div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>It\'s beautiful.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules nods his head: \"yes.\"</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>HONEY BUNNY</b></div><div><b>Goddammit, what is it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules </i>SLAMS<i> the case closed, then sits back, as if offering the case to Pumpkin. Pumpkin, one big smile, bends over to pick up the case.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Like a rattlesnake, Jules\' free hand </i>GRABS<i> the wrist of Pumpkin\'s gun hand, </i>SLAMMING<i> it on the table. His other hand comes from under the table and </i>STICKS<i> the barrel of his .45 hand under Pumpkin\'s chin.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Honey Bunny freaks out, waving his gun in Jules\' direction.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>HONEY BUNNY</b></div><div><b>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!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><i>(to Pumpkin)</i></div><div><b>Tell that bitch to be cool! Say, bitch be cool! Say, bitch be cool!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Chill out, honey!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>HONEY BUNNY</b></div><div><b>Let him go!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><i>(softly)</i></div><div><b>Tell her it\'s gonna be okay.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>I\'m gonna be okay.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Promise her.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>I promise.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Tell her to chill.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Just chill out.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>What\'s her name?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Yolanda.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Whenever Jules talks to Yolanda, he never looks at her, only at Pumpkin.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><i>(to Yolanda)</i></div><div><b>So, we cool Yolanda? We ain\'t gonna do anything stupid, are we?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOLANDA</b></div><div><i>(crying)</i></div><div><b>Don\'t you hurt him.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Nobody\'s gonna hurt anybody. We\'re gonna be like three Fonzies. And what\' Fonzie like?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>No answer,</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>C\'mon Yolanda, what\'s Fonzie like?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOLANDA</b></div><div><i>(through tears, unsure)</i></div><div><b>He\'s cool?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Correct-amundo! And that\'s what we\'re gonna be, we\'re gonna be cool.</b></div><div><i>(to Pumpkin)</i></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Pumpkin looks at him.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>One... two... three.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Pumpkin lets go of his gun and places both hands on the table. Yolanda can\'t stand it anymore.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOLANDA</b></div><div><b>Okay, now let him go!</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOLANDA</b></div><div><i>(more conversational)</i></div><div><b>Just know: you hurt him, you die.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><i>(to Ringo)</i></div><div><b>Now this is the situation. Normally both of your asses would be dead as fuckin\' fried chicken. But you append 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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT (O.S.)</b></div><div><b>What the fuck\'s goin\' on here?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Yolanda </i>WHIPS<i> her gun toward the stranger.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent, by the bathroom, has his gun out, dead-aimed at Yolanda.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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\'.</b></div><div><i>(to Pumpkin)</i></div><div><b>Tell her we\'re still cool.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>It\'s cool, Honey Bunny, we\'re still cool.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><i>(gun raised)</i></div><div><b>What the hell\'s goin\' on, Jules?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Nothin\' I can\'t handle. I want you to just hang back and don\'t do shit unless it\'s absolutely necessary.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Check.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Yolanda, how we doin, baby?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>YOLANDA</b></div><div><b>I gotta go pee! I want to go home.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Just hang in there, baby, you\'re doing\' great, Ringo\'s proud of you and so am I. It\'s almost over.</b></div><div><i>(to Pumpkin)</i></div><div><b>Now I want you to go in that bag and find my wallet.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Which one is it?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>It\'s the one that says Bad Motherfucker on it.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Pumpkin looks in the bag and – sure enough – there\'s a wallet with \"Bad Motherfucker\" embroidered on it.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>That\'s my bad motherfucker. Now open it up and take out the cash. How much is there?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>About fifteen hundred dollars.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>Jules, if you give this nimrod fifteen hundred buck, I\'m gonna shoot \'em on general principle.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>What?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>Your life. I\'m givin\' you that money so I don\'t hafta kill your ass. You read the Bible?</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>PUMPKIN</b></div><div><b>Not regularly.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>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 cold-blooded 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.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Jules lowers his gun, lying it on the table.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Pumpkin looks at him, to the money in his hand, then to Yolanda. She looks back.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Grabbing the trash bag full of wallets, the two </i>RUN<i> out the door.</i></div><div> </div><div><i>Jules, who was never risen from his seat the whole time, takes a sip of coffee.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><i>(to himself)</i></div><div><b>It\'s cold.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>He pushes it aside.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent appears next to Jules.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>VINCENT</b></div><div><b>I think we oughta leave now.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>JULES</b></div><div><b>That\'s probably a good idea.</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>Vincent throws some money on the table and Jules grabs the briefcase.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b>FADE OUT</b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><b> </b></div><div><strong><div><b>THE END</b></div></strong></div><div> </div><div><b> </b></div><p><img src=\"http://img3.mtime.com/mg/2007/33/d8613fe4-e248-40ba-8e26-10b2c523ba70.jpg\" align=\"top\" alt=\"\"/></p>

德国派使者 · 发表于 2007-12-16 02:49:00

<p>谢谢分享～</p><p>正准备看这部～</p><p><a href=\"http://www.mtime.com/movie/10468/\">http://www.mtime.com/movie/10468/</a></p>

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