Pulp Fiction

Pulp Fiction quotes

106 total quotes (ID: 473)

Butch Coolidge
Jules Winnfield
Lance
Marsellus Wallace
Mia Wallace
Multiple Characters
References
Vincent Vega
Winston Wolfe


[Vincent and Jules walk into the apartment. They don't look happy]
Jules: Hey kids, how you boys doing?
[One starts to get up]
Jules: Keep chilling. You know who we are? We are associates of your business partner Marsellus Wallace. You do remember your business partner, don't 'cha?
[Nervous silence]
Jules: Now let me take a wild guess here. [Points at a young man sitting at a table eating breakfast] You're Brett, right?
Brett: Yeah.
Jules: I thought so. You remember your business partner Marsellus Wallace, don't 'cha, Brett?
[Vincent walks behind Brett into the kitchen]
Brett: Yeah, I-I remember.
Jules: Good. It looks like me and Vincent caught you boys at breakfast. Sorry about that. What 'cha having?
Brett: Hamburgers.
Jules: Hamburgers! The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast. What kinda hamburgers?
Brett: Uh, ch-cheeseburgers.
Jules: No, no-no-no-no, where'd you get them? McDonald's, Wendy's, Jack-in-the-Box, where?
Brett: Um, Big Kahuna Burger.
Jules: Big Kahuna Burger! That's that Hawaiian burger joint. I hear they got some tasty burgers. Ain't never had one myself. How are they?
Brett: Th-they're good.
Jules: You mind if I try one of yours?
[They shake their heads]
Jules: This is yours here, right?
[Jules picks up a cheeseburger and takes a bite]
Jules: Mm-hmm! This is a tasty burger! Vincent! You ever had a Big Kahuna burger?
[Vincent shakes his head]
Jules: Want a bite? They're real tasty.
Vincent: Ain't hungry.
Jules: Well, if you like burgers, give them a try sometime. Me, I can't usually get them 'cause my girlfriend's a vegetarian, which pretty much makes me a vegetarian. I do love the taste of a good burger. Mmm. [To Brett] You know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in France?
Brett: No.
Jules: Tell them, Vincent
Vincent: Royale with Cheese.
Jules: Royale with Cheese. Know why they call it that?
[Brett shrugs]
Brett: Uh, because of the metric system?
Jules: Check out the big brain on Brett! You're a smart mother****er. That's right. The metric system.
[Jules tosses the burger down on the table. He points at a plastic cup]
Jules: What's in this?
Brett: Sprite.
Jules: Sprite, good. Do you mind if I have some of your tasty beverage to wash this down?
Brett: Go right ahead.
[Jules picks up the Sprite and drinks it]
Jules: Ah. That hit the spot.
[Jules points at the other guy on the couch]
Jules: You, Flock-of-Seagulls, know why we're here? Why don't you tell my man Vince were you got the shit hid at?
[The third man, Marvin, behind Jules, in a corner, speaks]
Marvin: It's over there--
Jules: [shouting]: I don't remember asking you a god damn thing! [to Flock-of-Seagulls] You were saying?
Flock-of-Seagulls: In the cupboard. [Vincent looks in an overhead cupboard] N-no, the one by your knees.
[Vincent pulls out a black briefcase, unlocks it, and looks at the glowing light inside]
Jules: We happy? [no answer] Vincent? Are we happy?
Vincent: Yeah, we happy. Fff.
Brett: [to Jules] Look, I'm sorry, I didn't get your name. I got yours, uh, Vincent, right? But I--I didn't get yours.
Jules: My name is Pitt, and your ass ain't talking your way outta this shit.
Brett: [rising]: No, no, no. I just want you to know how-- [Jules motions him to sit down] I just want you to know how sorry we are that that things got so ****ed up with us and Mr. Wallace. It, we-we got into this thing with the best intentions. I never inte--
[Jules shoots Flock-of-Seagulls, Brett recoils in horror]
Jules: Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration? I didn't mean to do that. Please, continue. You were sayin' something about "best intentions"? What's the matter? Oh, y-you were finished? Oh, well allow me to retort!
[Jules looks pretty upset]
Jules: What does Marsellus Wallace look like?
Brett: What?
Jules: What country are you from?
Brett: What?
Jules: "What" ain't no country I ever heard of! They speak English in "What"?!
Brett: What?
Jules: English, mother****er! Do you speak it?!
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Then you know what I'm saying. Describe, what Marsellus Wallace, looks like!
Brett: What?
Jules: [points gun at Brett] Say "what" again! Say "what" again. I dare you! I double-dare you, mother****er! Say "what" one more god damn time!
Brett: He-he's black.
Jules: Go on!
Brett: He's bald.
Jules: Does he look like a bitch?
Brett: What?!
Jules: [shoots Brett in the shoulder, Brett screams] Does...he...look...like a bitch?!
Brett: [in pain] No-o!!
Jules: Then why'd you try to **** him like a bitch, Brett?
Brett: I didn't!
Jules: Yes, you did! Yes, you did, Brett! You tried to **** him, and Marsellus Wallace don't like to be ****ed by anybody, except Mrs. Wallace. You read the Bible, Brett?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Well, there's this passage I've got memorized that sort of fits this occasion. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of the evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and goodwill, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. [Says it louder] And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. [Says it even louder] And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee!"[1]
[Shoots Brett repeatedly, emptying his handgun into him as Vincent fires along with his handgun]


Jules: Oh, man. I will never forgive your ass for this shit. This is some ****ed-up repugnant shit.
Vincent: Jules, did you ever hear the philosophy that once a man admits that he is wrong, he is immediately forgiven for all wrong-doings? Have you ever heard that?
Jules: Get the **** out my face with that shit. The mother****er said that shit never had to pick up itty-bitty pieces of skull on account of your dumb ass.
Vincent: I've got a threshold, Jules. I've got a threshold for the abuse that I will take. Now, right now, I'm a ****ing race car, all right? And you got me in the red. And I'm just saying, I'm just saying that it's ****ing dangerous to have a race car in the ****ing red, that's all. I could blow.
Jules: Oh, oh, you ready to blow?
Vincent: Yeah, I'm ready to blow.
Jules: Well, I'm a mushroom cloud-laying mother****er, mother****er! Every time my fingers touch brain, I'm Superfly T.N.T.! I'm the The Guns of the Navarone! In fact, what the **** am I doing in the back?! You're the mother****er who should be on brain detail! We're ****ing switching! I'm washing the windows and you're picking up this ****'s skull!

Jules: Mmm! God damn, 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?
Jimmie: Knock it off, Jules.
Jules: What?
Jimmie: I don't need you to tell me how ****ing 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 want 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 **** in my garage.
Jules: Oh, Jimmie, don't even worry about that--
Jimmie: No, I wanna ask you a question. When you came pulling him here, did you notice a sign out in front of my house that said Dead **** Storage?
Jules: Jimmie, you know I ain't seen no--
Jimmie: Did you notice a sign out in front of my house that said "Dead **** Storage"?!
Jules: No, I didn't.
Jimmie: You know why you didn't see that sign?
Jules: Why?
Jimmie: 'Cause it ain't there, 'cause storing dead ****s ain't my ****ing business, that's why!
Jules: But Jimmie, we ain't gonna store the mother****er--
Jimmie: No, no, no, no, no, don't you ****ing realize, man, that if Bonnie comes home and finds a dead body in her house, I'm gonna get divorced? All right? No marriage counseling, no trial separation, I'm going to get ****ing divorced, okay? And I don't want to get ****ing divorced! Now man, you know, ****, I wanna help you, but I don't want to lose my wife doing it, all right?
Jules: Jimmie, Jimmie, she ain't gonna leave you--
Jimmie: Don't ****ing "Jimmie" me, Jules, okay?! Don't ****ing "Jimmie" me! There's nothing that you're gonna say that's gonna make me forget that I love my wife, is there?! Now look, you know, she comes home from work in about an hour and a half. Graveyard shift at the hospital. You gotta make some phone calls? You gotta call some people? Well, then do it! And then get the **** out of my house before she gets here!
Jules: Hey, that's Kool and the Gang. You know, we don't wanna **** your shit up. All we wanna do is call my people and get them to bring us in, that's all.
Jimmie: You don't wanna **** my shit up? You're ****ing up my shit right now! You're gonna **** my shit up big time if Bonnie comes home. So just do me that favor, all right? The phone is in my bedroom, I suggest you get going.

Jules: I don't wanna hear about no mother****ing ifs! All I wanna hear from your ass is, "You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the mother****er. Go back in there, chill them ****s out and wait for the cavalry, which should be coming directly."
Marsellus: [calmly] You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the mother****er. Go back in there, chill them ****s out and wait for the Wolf, who should be coming directly.
Jules: You sending the Wolf?
Marsellus: Feel better, mother****er?
Jules: [grinning] Shit, yeah, Negro! That's all you had to say!

Jules: So, tell me again about the hash bars.
Vincent: Okay, what you wanna know?
Jules: Hash is legal there, right?
Vincent: Yeah, it's legal, but it ain't a hundred percent legal. I mean, you can't walk into a restaurant, roll a joint and start puffing away. You're only supposed to smoke in your home or certain designated places.
Jules: And those are hash bars?
Vincent: It breaks down like this: it's legal to buy it, it's legal to own it, and if you're the proprietor of a hash bar, it's legal to sell it. It's legal to carry it, but that doesn't really matter 'cause get a load of this, all right? If you get stopped by the cops in Amsterdam, it's illegal for them to search you. I mean, that's a right the cops in Amsterdam don't have.
Jules: [laughing] Oh, man! I'm going, that's all there is to it. I'm ****ing going.
Vincent: Yeah baby, you'd dig it the most. But you know what the funniest thing about Europe is?
Jules: What?
Vincent: It's the little differences. I mean, they got the same shit over there that they got here, but it's just – it's just there it's a little different.
Jules: Example?
Vincent: All right. Well, you can walk into a movie theater in Amsterdam and buy a beer. And I don't mean just like in no paper cup, I'm talking about a glass of beer. And in Paris, you can buy a beer at McDonald's. And you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?
Vincent: Nah, man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the **** a Quarter Pounder is.
Jules: What do they call it?
Vincent: They call it a "Royale with Cheese."[2]
Jules: "Royale with Cheese."
Vincent: That's right.
Jules: What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: A Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "Le Big Mac".
Jules: "Le Big Mac." [laughs] What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King. But, you know what they put on French fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
Jules: What?
Vincent: Mayonnaise.
Jules: God damn!
Vincent: I seen them do it, man, they ****ing drown them in that shit.
Jules: That's some ****ed up shit.

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 **** 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.

Vincent Want some bacon?
Jules No man, I don't eat pork.
Vincent Are you Jewish?
Jules Nah, I ain't Jewish, I just don't dig on swine, that's all.
Vincent Why not?
Jules Pigs are filthy animals. I don't eat filthy animals.
Vincent Yeah, but bacon tastes good. Pork chops taste good.
Jules Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy mother****er. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a filthy animal. I ain't eatin' nothing that ain't got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
Vincent How about a dog? Dog eats its own feces.
Jules I don't eat dog either.
Vincent Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
Jules I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy, but they're definitely dirty. A dog's got personality. Personality goes a long way.
Vincent Ah, so by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, he would cease to be a filthy animal. Is that true?
Jules Well, we'd have to be talkin' about one charming mother****ing pig. I mean, he'd have to be ten times more charming than that Arnold on Green Acres, you know what I'm saying?
Vincent: [laughing] That's good.

Vincent: A "please" would be nice.
The Wolf: Come again?
Vincent: I said a "please" would be nice.
The Wolf: Get it straight, Buster. I'm not here to say "please". I'm here to tell you what to do. And if self-preservation is an instinct you possess, you better ****ing do it and do it quick. I'm here to help. If my help's not appreciated, lots of luck, gentlemen.
Jules: No no, Mr. Wolfe, it's not like that. Your help is definitely appreciated.
Vincent: Look, Mr. Wolfe, I respect you. I just don't like people barking orders at me, that's all.
The Wolf: If I'm curt with you, it's because time is a factor. I think fast, I talk fast, and I need you two guys to act fast if you want to get out of this. So pretty please, with sugar on top, clean the ****ing car.

Jules: Man, I just been sitting here thinking.
Vincent: About what?
Jules: About the miracle we just witnessed.
Vincent: The miracle you witnessed. I witnessed a freak occurrence.
Jules: What is a miracle, Vincent?
Vincent: An act of God.
Jules: And what's an act of God?
Vincent: When, um ... God makes the impossible possible ... but this morning I don't think qualifies.
Jules: Hey, Vincent, don't you see? That shit don't matter. You're judging this shit the wrong way. I mean, it could be that God stopped the bullets, or He changed Coke to Pepsi, He found my ****ing car keys. You don't judge shit like this based on merit. Now, 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.
Vincent: But why?
Jules: Well, that's what's ****ing with me. I don't know why, but I can't go back to sleep.

Pumpkin: The way it is now, you're taking the same risk as when you rob a bank. You take more of a risk, banks are easier. Federal banks ain't supposed to stop you in any way during a robbery. I mean, they're insured, why should they give a ****? You don't even need a gun in a federal bank. I heard of this one guy, walks into a bank with a portable phone. He gives the phone to the teller, a bloke on the other end of the line says, we've got this guy's little girl, if you don't give him all your money, we're gonna kill her.
Honey Bunny: Did it work?
Pumpkin: ****ing right, it worked. That's what I'm talking about! Knucklehead walks into a bank with a telephone. Not a pistol, not a shotgun, a ****ing phone. Cleans the place out, don't even lift a ****ing finger.
Honey Bunny: Did they hurt the little girl?
Pumpkin: I don't know, there probably never was a little girl in the first place. The point of the story isn't the little girl, the point of the story is they robbed a bank with a telephone.
Honey Bunny: You want to rob banks?
Pumpkin: I'm not saying I want to rob banks, I'm just illustrating that if we did, it'd be easier than what we've been doing.
Honey Bunny: No more liquor stores?
Pumpkin: What have we been talking about? Yeah, no more liquor stores. Besides, it ain't the gig it used to be. Too many foreigners own liquor stores. Vietnamese, Koreans, they don't understand ****ing English. You tell them, empty out the register, they don't know what the **** you're talking about. They make it too personal; if we keep on, one of these gook ****ers is gonna make us kill him.
Honey Bunny: I'm not gonna kill anybody.
Pumpkin: I don't want to kill anybody either. But they'll probably put us in a situation where it's us or them. And if it's not the gooks, it's these old ****ing Jews who've owned the store for fifteen ****ing generations, you've got Grampa Irving sitting behind the counter with a ****ing Magnum in his hand. Try walking into one of those places with nothing but a phone, see how far you get. **** it; forget it. We're out of it.
Honey Bunny: So what then, day jobs?
Pumpkin: Not in this life.
Honey Bunny: What then?
Pumpkin: Garcon! Coffee! [to Honey Bunny] This place.
Waitress: [arrives with coffee; pours some into Pumpkin and Honey Bunny's mugs] Garcon means "boy". [walks away]
Honey Bunny: This place? A coffee shop?
Pumpkin: Why not? Nobody ever robs restaurants. Bars, liquor stores, gas stations--you get your head blown off sticking up one of them. Restaurants on the other hand, you catch with their pants down. They're not expecting to get robbed. Not as expectant, anyway.
Honey Bunny: I bet you could cut down on the hero factor in a place like this.
Pumpkin: Correct. Same as banks, these places are insured. Manager? He don't give a ****. He's just trying to get you out the door before you start plugging the diners. Waitresses? ****ing forget it! No way they're taking a bullet for the register. Busboys, some wetback getting paid a dollar-fifty an hour, really give a **** you're stealing from the owner? Customers are sitting there with food in their mouths, they don't know what's going on. One minute they're having a Denver omelette, next minute somebody's sticking a gun in their face. See, I got the idea, last liquor store we held up, all the customers kept coming in?
Honey Bunny: Yeah.
Pumpkin: And you got the idea of taking their wallets. Now that was a good idea.
Honey Bunny: Thank you.
Pumpkin: Made more from the wallets than we did from the register.
Honey Bunny: Yes, we did.
Pumpkin: A lot of customers come into a restaurant.
Honey Bunny: A lot of wallets.
Pumpkin: Pretty smart, eh?
Honey Bunny: Pretty smart. I'm ready. Let's do it. Right now, right here. Come on.
Pumpkin: [handing gun o Honey Bunny] All right, same as last time, remember? You handle gun control, I'll handle the employees.
[they kiss]
Honey Bunny: I love you, Pumpkin.
Pumpkin: I love you, Honey Bunny. [Stands and brandishes a gun] Everybody be cool, this is a robbery!
Honey Bunny: Any of you ****ing pricks move, and I'll execute every mother****ing last one of you!

There's this passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is The Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee."[1] I been saying that shit for years. And if you heard it, that meant your ass. I never gave much thought to what it meant. I just thought it was some cold-blooded shit to say to a mother****er before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this morning made me think twice. See, now I'm thinking, maybe it means you're the evil man, and I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or, it could mean you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd.

Butch: What now?
Marsellus: What now? Let me tell you what now. I'm gonna call a couple of hard, pipe-hitting ****s to go to work on the homes here with a pair of pliers and a blow torch. You hear me talkin', hillbilly boy?! I ain't through with you! By a damn sight. I'm gonna get medieval on yo' ass!
Butch: I meant "what now" between me and you.
Marsellus: Oh, that "what now." I tell you "what now" between me and you. There is no "me and you". Not no more.
Butch: So we cool?
Marsellus: Yeah, we cool. Two things: one, don't tell nobody about this. This shit is between me, you, and Mr. soon-to-be-living-the-rest-of-his-short-ass-life-in-agonizing-pain rapist here. It ain't noboby else's business. Two, you leave town tonight, right now, and when you gone, you stay gone or you be gone. You lost all your L.A. privileges. Deal?
Butch: Deal.
Marsellus: Get your ass out of here.

I think you are gonna find, when this shit is over ... I think you're gonna find yourself one smiling mother****er. The thing is, Butch, right now, you've got ability. But painful as it may be, ability don't last. And your days are just about over. Now, that's a hard mother****ing fact of life. But it's a fact of life your ass is gonna have to get realistic about. See, this business is filled to the brim with unrealistic mother****ers. Mother****ers who thought their ass would age like wine. If you mean it turns to vinegar, it does. If you mean it gets better with age, it don't. Besides, Butch, how many fights you think you got left in you anyway? Two? Boxers don't have an "old timer's league". You came close, but you never made it, and if you were gonna make it, you would have made it before now.

Captain Koons: Hello, little man. Boy, I sure heard a bunch about you. See, I was a good friend of your dad's. We were in that Hanoi pit of hell together for over five years. Hopefully, you'll never have to experience this yourself, but when two men are in a situation like me and your dad were, for as long as we were, you take on certain responsibilities of the other. If it had been me who had not made it, Major Coolidge would be talking right now to my son Jim. But the way it turned out is I'm talking to you, Butch. I got something for ya. [Holds up watch] This watch I got here was first purchased by your great-grandfather during the first world war. It was bought in a little general store in Knoxville, Tennessee, made by the first company to ever make wrist watches. Up until then, people just carried pocket watches. It was bought by Private Doughboy Ryan Coolidge the day he set sail for Paris. This was your great-grandfather's war watch, and he wore it every day he was in the war. Then when he had done his duty, he went home to your great-grandmother, took the watch and put it in an old coffee can. And in that can it stayed 'til your granddad Dane Coolidge was called upon by his country to go overseas and fight the Germans once again. This time they called it World War Two. Your great-granddad gave this watch to your granddad for good luck. Unfortunately, Dane's luck wasn't as good as his old man's. Dane was a Marine and he was killed along with all the other Marines at the battle of Wake Island. Your granddad was facing death, and he knew it. None of those boys had any illusions about ever leaving that island alive. So three days before the Japanese took the island, your granddad asked a gunner on an Air Force transport named Winocki, a man he had never met before in his life, to deliver to his infant son, who he had never seen in the flesh, his gold watch. Three days later, your grandfather was dead. But Winocki kept his word. After the war was over, he paid a visit to your grandmother, delivering to your infant father, his Dad's gold watch. This watch. This watch was on your Daddy's wrist when he was shot down over Hanoi. He was captured and put in a Vietnamese prison camp. He knew if the gooks ever saw the watch that it'd be confiscated; taken away. The way your Dad looked at it, this watch was your birthright. He'd be damned if any slopes were gonna put their greasy yellow hands on his boy's birthright. So he hid it in the one place he knew he could hide something. His ass. Five long years, he wore this watch up his ass. Then when he died of dysentery, he gave me the watch. I hid this uncomfortable hunk of metal up my ass for two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family. And now, little man, I give the watch to you.

Jimmy: I don't need you to tell me how ****ing 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 want 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 **** in my garage.