did I miss something? how is that title not belong to Pulp Fiction?
"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 fucking ballpark. It ain't the same league. It ain't even the same fucking sport."
"ENGLISH, MOTHERFUCKER! DO YOU SPEAK IT!?"
"SAY WHAT AGAIN! SAY WHAT AGAIN! I DARE YOU! I DOUBLE-DARE YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!! SAY WHAT ONE MORE GODDAMN TIME!"
"Aw, man, I shot Marvin in the face!"
"What now? Let me tell you what now. Imma call a couple of hard, pipe-hittin' n****s to go to work on the homes here with a pair of pliers and a blowtorch. You hear me talking, hillbilly boy?! I ain't through with you by a damn sight! Imma get medieval on yo' ass!"
"I don't need you to tell me how fucking 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. I buy the gourmet expensive stuff 'cause 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 ni**** in my garage."