Pulp Fiction Page #38

THE WOLF:

– let me ask you a question, if you

don't mind?

JIMMIE:

Sure.

THE WOLF:

Were you Uncle Conrad and Aunt Ginny

millionaires?

JIMMIE:

No.

THE WOLF:

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.

(takes out a roll of

bills)

I like oak myself, that's what's in

my bedroom. How 'bout you Jimmie,

you an oak man?

JIMMIE:

Oak's nice.

INT. GARAGE – MORNING

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.

JULES:

I will never forgive your ass for

this sh*t. This is some f***ed-up

repugnant sh*t!

VINCENT:

Did you ever hear the philosophy

that once a man admits he's wrong,

he's immediately forgiven for all

wrong-doings?

JULES:

Man, get outta my face with that

sh*t! The muthafucka who said that

never had to pick up itty-bitty pieces

of skull with his fingers on account

of your dumb ass.

VINCENT:

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 f***in' dangerous to be

drivin' a race car when it's in the

red. It could blow.

JULES:

You're gettin' ready to blow? I'm a

mushroom-cloud-layin' muthafucka,

muthafucka! Every time my fingers

touch brain, I'm "SUPERFLY TNT",

I'm the "GUNS OF NAVARONE". I'm

what Jimmie Walker usta talk about.

In fact, what the f*** am I doin' in the

back? You're the muthafucka should be

on brain detail. We're tradin'. I'm washin'

windows and you're pickin' up this nigga's

skull.

INT. CHEVY NOVA – MORNING

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.

The Wolf circles the car examining it.

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.

THE WOLF:

Fine job, gentlemen. We may get out

of this yet.

JIMMIE:

I can't believe that's the same car.

THE WOLF:

Well, let's not start suckin' each

other's d*cks quite yet. Phase one

is complete, clean the car, which

moves us right along to phase two,

clean you two.

EXT. JIMMIE'S BACKYARD – MORNING

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 nozzles attached.

THE WOLF:

Strip.

VINCENT:

All the way?

THE WOLF:

To your bare ass.

As they follow directions, The Wolf enjoys a smoke.

THE WOLF:

Quickly gentlemen, we got about

fifteen minutes before Jimmie's better-

half comes pulling into the driveway.

JULES:

This morning air is some chilly sh*t.

VINCENT:

Are you sure this is absolutely

necessary?

THE WOLF:

You know what you two look like?

VINCENT:

What?

THE WOLF:

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.

JULES:

Now Jimmie, don't do nothin' stupid

like puttin' that out in front of

your house for Elmo the garbage man

to take away.

THE WOLF:

Don't worry, we're takin' it with

us. Jim, the soap.

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