Jules: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. Eating a bitch out and giving a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same ****ing thing.
Vincent: It's not, it's the same ballpark.
Jules: It ain't no ****ing ball park neither! Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but you know touching his wife's feet and sticking your tongue in the holiest of holies ain't the same ****ing ball park. It ain't the same league. It ain't even the same ****ing sport! Look, foot massages don't mean shit!
Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?
Jules: Don't be telling me about foot massages, I'm the foot ****in' master.
Vincent: Given a lot of them?
Jules: Shit, yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothing.
Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?
Jules: **** you.
Vincent: You give them a lot?
Jules: **** you.
Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired, I could use a foot massage myself.
Jules: Yo-yo-yo, man, you best back off, I'm getting pissed here. Look, just 'cause I wouldn't give no man a foot massage don't make it right for Marsellus to throw Antoine into a glass mother****ing house ****ing up the way the nigger talks. That shit ain't right. Mother****er do that shit to me, he better paralyze my ass because I'd kill the mother****er, know what I'm saying?
Vincent: I ain't saying it's right. But you're saying a foot massage don't mean nothing, and I'm saying it does. Now look, I've given a million ladies a million foot massages, and they all meant something. We act like they don't, but they do, and that's what's so ****ing cool about them. There's a sensuous thing going on where you don't talk about it, but you know it, she knows it, ****ing Marsellus knew it, and Antoine should have ****ing better known better. I mean, that's his ****ing wife, man, he can't be expected to have a sense of humor about that shit. You know what I'm saying?
Jules: That's an interesting point.
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