Jimmie Dimmick: Knock it off, Julie.
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Jules Winnfield: [pause] What?Comment
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Jimmie Dimmick: I don't need you to tell me how fucking good my coffee is, okay? I'm the one who buys it. I know how good it is. When Bonnie goes shopping she buys SHIT. Me, I buy the gourmet expensive stuff because when I drink it I wanjt to taste it. But you know what's on my mind right now? It AIN'T the coffee in my kitchen, it's the dead hahahahahaha in my garage.Comment
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Jules Winnfield: Oh, Jimmie, don't even worry about that...Comment
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Jimmie Dimmick: No, let me ask you a question. When you came pulling in here, did you see a sign out in front of my house that said "Dead hahahahahaha Storage?"Comment
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Jules Winnfield: Jimmie, you know I ain't seen no...Comment
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Jimmie Dimmick: Did you see a sign out in front of my house that said "Dead hahahahahaha Storage?"Comment
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Jules Winnfield: [pause] No. I didn't.Comment
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Jimmie Dimmick: You know WHY you didn't see that sign?Comment
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Jules Winnfield: Why?Comment
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Jimmie Dimmick: 'Cause it ain't there, 'cause storing dead hahahahahahas ain't my fucking business, that's why!Comment
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Jules: Whether or not what we experienced was an According to Hoyle miracle is insignificant. What is significant is that I felt the touch of God. God got involved.Comment
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Jules: Whoa... whoa... whoa... stop right there. Eatin' a bitch out, and givin' a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fuckin' thing.Comment
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Vincent: Not the same thing, the same ballpark.Comment
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Jules: It ain't no fuckin' ballpark either. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her holyiest of holies, ain't the same ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Foot massages don't mean shit.Comment
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Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?Comment
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Jules: Don't be tellin' me about foot massages - I'm the foot fuckin' master.Comment
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Vincent: Given a lot of 'em?Comment
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Jules: Shit yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothin'.Comment
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Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?Comment
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Jules: Fuck you.Comment
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Vincent: You give them a lot?Comment
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Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired, I could use a foot massage.Comment
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Jules: Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' pissed.Comment
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Jimmie: I'm gonna get fuckin' divorced. No marriage counselling, no trial separation, I'm gonna get fuckin' divorced.Comment
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Yolanda: Any of you fuckin' pricks move, and I'll execute every mother fuckin' last one of ya.Comment
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Vincent: And you know what they call a... a... a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?Comment
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Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?Comment
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Vincent: No man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.Comment
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Jules: Then what do they call it?Comment
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Vincent: They call it a "Royale" with cheese.Comment
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Jules: A "Royale" with cheese. What do they call a Big Mac?Comment
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Vincent: Well, a Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "le Big-Mac".Comment
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Jules: "Le Big-Mac". Ha ha ha ha. What do they call a Whopper?Comment
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Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King.Comment
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Jules: We should have shotguns for this kind of deal.Comment
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Vincent: How many up there?Comment
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Jules: Three or four.Comment
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Butch: Will you hand me a towel, tulip?Comment
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Fabienne: Ah, I like that. I like tulip. Tulip is much better than mongoloid.Comment
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Marsellus: In the fifth, your ass goes down. Say it.Comment
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Butch: In the fifth, my ass goes down.Comment
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Mia: I do believe Marsellus Wallace, my husband, your boss, told you to take ME out and do WHATEVER I WANTED. Now I wanna dance, I wanna win. I want that trophy, so dance good.Comment
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The Wolf: That's thirty minutes away. I'll be there in ten.Comment
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Jules: Normally, both your asses would be dead as fucking fried chicken, but you happen to pull this shit while I'm in a transitional period so I don't wanna kill you, I wanna help you. But I can't give you this case, it don't belong to me. Besides, I've already been through too much shit this morning over this case to hand it over to your dumb ass.Comment
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[Jules, Vincent and Jimmie are drinking coffee in Jimmie's kitchen]Comment
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Jules Winnfield: Mmmm! Goddamn, Jimmie! This is some serious gourmet shit! Usually, me and Vince would be happy with some freeze-dried Taster's Choice, but he springs this serious GOURMET shit on us! What flavor is this?Comment
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Jimmie Dimmick: Knock it off, Julie.Comment
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Jules Winnfield: [pause] What?Comment
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Jimmie Dimmick: I don't need you to tell me how fucking good my coffee is, okay? I'm the one who buys it. I know how good it is. When Bonnie goes shopping she buys SHIT. Me, I buy the gourmet expensive stuff because when I drink it I wanjt to taste it. But you know what's on my mind right now? It AIN'T the coffee in my kitchen, it's the dead hahahahahaha in my garage.Comment
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