Found 431 results
3m16s
Let's go, nigger! Come on! Shit. [ Vincent ] You ever seen that show Cops? I was watching it one time, and there was this cop on, and he was talkin' about this gunfight he had in the hallway with this guy, right? He just unloaded on this guy and nothin' happened. He didn't hit nothin'. Okay? It was just him and this guy. I mean, you know, it's, it's freaky, but it happens. You wanna play blind man, go walk with the shepherd, but me, my eyes are wide fuckin' open. - What the fuck does that mean? - It means that's it for me. From here on in, you can consider my ass retired. - Jesus Christ. Goddamn it. - Don't blaspheme. - I said, don't do that! - Hey, why are you fuckin' freakin' out on us? Look, I'm tellin' Marsellus today- I'm through. - Why don't you tell him at the same time why? - Don't worry, I will. - And I bet you $10,000 he laughs his ass off. - I don't give a damn if he does. [ Sighs ] Marvin, what do you make of all this? Man, I don't even have an opinion. You gotta have an opinion. You think God came down from Heaven and stopped- - [ Gunshot ] - What the fuck's happenin'? - Aw, shit, man! - Aw, man! - Oh, man, I shot Marvin in the face. - Why the fuck'd you do that? I didn't mean it. It was an accident. - Man, I seen some crazy-ass shit in my time, but this- - Chill out, man! It was an accident. We probably went over a bump or somethin'. The car ain't hit no motherfuckin' bump. I didn't mean to shoot the son of a bitch. The gun went off. Look at this fuckin' mess! We're on a city street in broad daylight here! - I don't believe it! - Well, believe it now, motherfucker! We gotta get this car off the road. Cops notice shit like a car drenched in blood. - Just take it to a friendly place, that's all! - This is the Valley, Vincent. Marsellus ain't got no friendly places in the Valley. - Well, Jules, this ain't my fuckin' town, man! - Shit! - What you doing? - I'm calling my partner in Toluca Lake. -Where's Toluca Lake? -Over the hill here, by Burbank Studios. If Jimmie's ass ain't home, I don't know what the fuck we gonna do, 'cause I ain't got no other partners in 818. Jimmie, how you doin', man? It's Jules. Just listen up, man. Me and my homeboy are in a car, and we gotta get it off the road, pronto. I need to use your garage for a couple hours. We gotta be real fuckin' delicate with this Jimmie situation. He's one remark away from kickin' our asses out the door. - If he does, what do we do? - We ain't leavin' 'til we make a couple calls, but I don't want it to reach that pitch- Jimmie's a friend. You don't come into your friend's house and start tellin' him what's what. Just tell him not to be abusive. He kinda freaked out back there when he saw Marvin. Put yourself in his position- It's 8:00 in the morning, he just woke up. He wasn't expectin' this shit. We gotta remember here who's doin' who a favor. If that favor means I gotta take shit, he can stick that favor straight up his ass. - Fuck, nigger, what the fuck'd you just do to his towel, man? - I was dryin' my hands! - You're supposed to wash 'em first! - You watched me wash 'em. - I watched you get 'em wet. - I was washin' 'em. This shit's hard to get off. Maybe if he'd had Lava I coulda done a better job. I used the same fuckin' soap you did, and when I finished, the towel didn't look like no goddamn maxi-pad! What if he was to come in here and see his towel like this? It's shit like this that's gonna bring this situation to a head, man! Look, I ain't threatenin' you or nothin', all right? You know I respect you and all. But just don't put me in this position, all right? All right. Fine. Fine. Ask me nice like that, no problem. Just go handle your friend. Go ahead. I don't care.
Pulp Fiction
1m5s
Okay, first thing. You two. Take the body, stick it in the trunk. This looks to be a pretty domesticated house. - That would lead me to believe you got cleansers and shit. - Yeah. Under the sink. Good. What I need you two fellas to do is take those cleaning products... and clean the inside of the car- I'm talkin' fast, fast, fast. Go in the back seat, scoop up all those little pieces of brain and skull. Get it out of there. Wipe down the upholstery. It don't need to be spick-and-span. You don't need to eat off it. Just 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. We need to raid your linen closet. I need blankets, I need comforters, quilts, bedspreads. The thicker the better, the darker the better. No whites. Can't use 'em. We'll need to camouflage the front seat and back seat and floorboards... with quilts and blankets, so if a cop 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. "Please" would be nice.
Pulp Fiction
1m13s
Oh, no fuckin' shit she'll freak. That ain't no kinda answer. I mean, you know, I don't. How much? A lot or a little? You got to appreciate what an explosive element... this Bonnie situation is. She comes home from a hard day's work, finds a bunch of gangsters in her kitchen... doing a bunch of gangster shit, there ain't no tellin' what she's liable to do. [ All Gasping ] Yeah, I grasp that, Jules. All I'm doing is contemplating the ifs. I don't wanna hear about no motherfuckin' ifs! All I want to hear from your ass is, "You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Chill them niggers out and wait for the cavalry, which should be coming directly." You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Chill them niggers out and wait for the Wolf, who should be coming directly. You sendin' the Wolf? Oh, you feel better, motherfucker? Shit, yeah, negro! That's all you had to say! - [ Piano ] - [ Man ] She the hysterical type? - When is she due? - [ Partygoers Chattering ] Mm-hmm. Give me the principals' names again. [ Man ] Place your bets.
Pulp Fiction
34.8s
What the fuck'd I tell ya? Huh? As soon as the word got out the fix was in, man, the odds went through the roof. I know. I know. Unbelievable. Hey, fuck him, Scotty. If he was a better boxer, he'd still be alive. If he never laced up his gloves, which he never shoulda done in the first fuckin' place, he'd still be alive. [ Hawks, Spits ] Yeah, well, who gives a fuck? It's over now. Yeah, well, enough about the poor, unfortunate Mr. Floyd. Let's talk about the rich and prosperous Mr. Butch. How many bookies did you lay it around on? All eight? How long to collect?
Pulp Fiction