Pulp Fiction Page #43

PUMPKIN:

I'm gonna be okay.

JULES:

Promise her.

PUMPKIN:

I promise.

JULES:

Tell her to chill.

PUMPKIN:

Just chill out.

JULES:

What's her name?

PUMPKIN:

Yolanda.

Whenever Jules talks to Yolanda, he never looks at her, only

at Pumpkin.

JULES:

(to Yolanda)

So, we cool Yolanda? We ain't gonna

do anything stupid, are we?

YOLANDA:

(crying)

Don't you hurt him.

JULES:

Nobody's gonna hurt anybody. We're

gonna be like three Fonzies. And

what' Fonzie like?

No answer.

JULES:

C'mon Yolanda, what's Fonzie like?

YOLANDA:

(through tears, unsure)

He's cool?

JULES:

Correct-amundo! And that's what we're

gonna be, we're gonna be cool.

(to Pumpkin)

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?

Pumpkin looks at him.

JULES:

One... two... three.

Pumpkin lets go of his gun and places both hands on the table.

Yolanda can't stand it anymore.

YOLANDA:

Okay, now let him go!

JULES:

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 muthafuckas

get scared, that's when muthafuckas

get accidentally shot.

YOLANDA:

(more conversational)

Just know:
you hurt him, you die.

JULES:

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.

(to Ringo)

Now this is the situation. Normally

both of your asses would be dead as

f***in' fried chicken. But you

happened to pull this sh*t 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 sh*t this

morning on account of this case to

just hand it over to your ass.

VINCENT (O.S.)

What the f***'s goin' on here?

Yolanda WHIPS her gun toward the stranger.

Vincent, by the bathroom, has his gun out, dead-aimed at

Yolanda.

JULES:

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'.

(to Pumpkin)

Tell her we're still cool.

PUMPKIN:

It's cool, Honey Bunny, we're still

cool.

VINCENT:

(gun raised)

What the hell's goin' on, Jules?

JULES:

Nothin' I can't handle. I want you

to just hang back and don't do sh*t

unless it's absolutely necessary.

VINCENT:

Check.

JULES:

Yolanda, how we doin, baby?

YOLANDA:

I gotta go pee! I want to go home.

JULES:

Just hang in there, baby, you're

doing' great, Ringo's proud of you

and so am I. It's almost over.

(to Pumpkin)

Now I want you to go in that bag and

find my wallet.

PUMPKIN:

Which one is it?

JULES:

It's the one that says "Bad

Muthafucka" on it.

Pumpkin looks in the bag and – sure enough – there's a wallet

with "Bad Motherf***er" embroidered on it.

JULES:

That's my "Bad Muthafucka" Now

open it up and take out the cash.

How much is there?

PUMPKIN:

About fifteen hundred dollars.

JULES:

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.

VINCENT:

Jules, if you give this nimrod fifteen

hundred buck, I'm gonna shoot 'em on

general principle.

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