Pulp Fiction Page #16

VINCENT:

(to himself)

I'll be a son-of-a-b*tch.

(to Mia)

Mia! MIA! What did you take? Answer

me honey, what did you take?

Mia is incapable of answering. He SLAPS her face hard.

Vincent SPRINGS up and RUNS to his overcoat, hanging on the

rack.

He goes through the pockets FRANTICALLY. It's gone. Vincent

makes a beeline to Mia. We follow.

VINCENT:

(yelling to Mia)

Okay honey, we're getting you on

your feet.

He reaches her and hoists the dead weight up in his arms.

VINCENT:

We're on our feet now, and now we're

gonna talk out to the car. Here we

go, watch us walk.

We follow behind as he hurriedly walks the practically-

unconscious Mia through the house and out the front door.

EXT. VINCENT'S HOT ROD (MOVING) – NIGHT

INSERT SPEEDOMETER: red needle on a hundred.

Vincent driving like a madman in a town without traffic laws,

speeds the car into turns and up and over hills.

INT.VINCENT'S HOT ROD (MOVING) – NIGHT

Vincent, one hand firmly on the wheel, the other shifting

like Robocop, both eyes staring straight ahead except when

he glances over at Mia.

Mia, slack-jawed expression, mouth gaping, posture of a bag

of water.

Vincent takes a cellular phone out of his pocket. He punches

a number.

INT. LANCE'S HOUSE – NIGHT

At this late hour, LANCE has transformed from a bon vivant

drug dealer to a bathrobe creature.

He sits in a big comfy chair, ratty blue gym pants, a worn-

out but comfortable tee-shirt that has, written on it, "TAFT,

CALIFORNIA", and a moth-ridden terry cloth robe. In his hand

is a bowl of Cap'n Crunch with Crunch Berries. In front of

him on the coffee table is a jug of milk, the box the Cap'n

Crunch with Crunch Berries came out of, and a hash pipe in

an ashtray.

On the big-screen TV in front of the table is the Three

Stooges, and they're getting married.

PREACHER (EMIL SIMKUS)

(on TV)

Hold hands, you love birds.

The phone RINGS.

Lance puts down his cereal and makes his way to the phone.

It RINGS again.

Jody, his wife, CALLS from the bedroom, obviously woken up.

JODY (O.S.)

Lance! The phone's ringing!

LANCE:

(calling back)

I can hear it!

JODY (O.S.)

I thought you told those f***in'

a**holes never to call this late!

LANCE:

(by the phone)

I told 'em and that's what I'm gonna

tell this f***in' a**hole right now!

(he answers the phone)

Hello, do you know how late it is?

You're not supposed to be callin' me

this f***in' late.

BACK TO:

VINCENT IN THE MALIBU

Vincent is still driving like a stripe-assed ape, clutching

the phone to his ear. WE CUT BACK AND FORTH during the

conversation.

VINCENT:

Lance, this is Vincent, I'm in big

f***in' trouble man, I'm on my way

to your place.

LANCE:

Whoa, hold you horses man, what's

the problem?

VINCENT:

You still got an adrenaline shot?

LANCE:

(dawning on him)

Maybe.

VINCENT:

I need it man, I got a chick she's

f***in' Doing on me.

LANCE:

Don't bring her here! I'm not even

f***in' joking with you, don't you

be bringing some f***ed up pooh-butt

to my house!

VINCENT:

No choice.

LANCE:

She's ODin'?

VINCENT:

Yeah. She's dyin'.

LANCE:

Then bite the f***in' bullet, take

'er to a hospital and call a lawyer!

VINCENT:

Negative.

LANCE:

She ain't my f***in' problem, you

f***ed her up, you deal with it –

are you talkin' to me on a cellular

phone?

VINCENT:

Sorry.

LANCE:

I don't know you, who is this, don't

come here, I'm hangin' up.

VINCENT:

Too late, I'm already here.

At that moment inside Lance's house, WE HEAR VINCENT's Malibu

coming up the street. Lance hangs up the phone, goes to his

curtains and YANKS the cord. The curtains open with a WHOOSH

in time to see Vincent's Malibu DRIVING UP on his front lawn

and CRASHING into his house. The window Lance is looking out

of SHATTERS from the impact.

JODY (O.S.)

What the hell was that?

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