<u>pulp fiction</u>[Jules, Vincent and Jimmie are drinking coffee in Jimmie's kitchen]Jules: Mmmm! Goddamn, Jimmie! This is some serious gourmet sh*t! Usually, me and Vince would be happy with some freeze-dried Taster's Choice, but he springs this serious GOURMET sh*t on us! What flavor is this?Jimmie: Knock it off, Jules.Jules: [pause] What?Jimmie: I don't need you to tell me how f*cking good my coffee is, okay? I'm the one who buys it. I know how good it is. When Bonnie goes shopping she buys sh*t. 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 (edit) in my garage.Jules: Oh, Jimmie, don't even worry about that...Jimmie: No, let me ask you a question. When you came pulling in here, did you see a sign out in front of my house that said Dead (edit) Storage?Jules: Jimmie, you know I ain't seen no...Jimmie: Did you see a sign out in front of my house that said Dead (edit) Storage?Jules: [pause] 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 (edit) ain't my f*cking business, that's why! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Jules: English, Motherf*cker, do you speak it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Jules: What does Marcellus Wallace look like?Brett: What?Jules: What country you from?Brett: What?Jules: What ain't no country I ever heard of! They speak English in What?Brett: What?Jules: ENGLISH, Motherf*cker! DO-YOU-SPEAK-IT?Brett: Yes!Jules: Then you know what I'm saying!Brett: Yes!Jules: Describe what Marcellus Wallace looks like!Brett: What, I-?Jules: [pointing his gun] Say what again. SAY WHAT AGAIN. I dare you, I double dare you, Motherf*cker. Say what one more goddamn time.Brett: He's b-b-black...Jules: Go on.Brett: He's bald...Jules: Does he look like a bi*ch?Brett: What?[Jules shoots Brett in shoulder]Jules: DOES HE LOOK LIKE A bi*ch?Brett: No!Jules: Then why you try to F*ck him like a bi*ch, Brett?Brett: I didn't.Jules: Yes you did. Yes you did, Brett. You tried to F*ck him. And Marcellus Wallace don't like to be F*cked by anybody, except Mrs. Wallace. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<u>Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby</u>Ricky Bobby: Dear Lord baby Jesus, or as our brothers in the south call you,jesuz, we thank you so much for this bountiful harvest of Dominos, KFC, and the always delicious Taco Bell. I just want to take time to say thank you for my family. My two beautiful, beautiful, handsome stricking sons, Walker, and Texas Ranger, or TR as we call him. And of course my red hot smokin' wife Carley, who is a stone cold fox.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Ricky Bobby: Dear little baby Jesus, who's sittin' in his crib watchin the Baby Einstein videos, learnin' 'bout shapes and colors. I would like to thank you for bringin' me and my moma together, and also that my kids no longer sound like retarded gang-bangers.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Ricky Bobby: I've sent in my application to the Real World. So I'm hoping to hear back from that. I'm putting A LOT of my eggs into that basket, the MTV basket. I'm also thinking about getting a gun, and dealing crack. Being a crack dealer. Not like a mean crack dealer, but like... like a nice one. Kinda friendly like, "hey, what's up guys? Want some crack?" I'm just waiting on those two things to flesh themselves out.