9 minutes 37 seconds later...
-You're... Jimmie, right? This is your house? -It sure is.
I'm Winston Wolf. I solve problems.
-Good. We got one. -So I heard.
-May I come in? -Uh, yeah. Please do.
You must be Jules. Which would make you... Vincent.
Let's get down to brass tacks, gentlemen. If I was informed correctly, the clock is ticking. Is that right, Jimmie?
-Uh, one hundred percent. -Your wife Bonnie comes home at 9:30 in the a.m., correct?
-I was led to believe if she comes home and finds us here, she wouldn't appreciate it much. -She wouldn't at that.
That gives us 40 minutes to get the fuck outta Dodge,
which, if you do what I say, when I say it, should be plenty. Now, you got a corpse in a car, minus a head, in a garage. Take me to it.
Jimmie. Do me a favour, will ya?
-I smelled some coffee back there. Would you make me a cup? -Uh, yeah, sure.
-Oh, uh, um, how do you take it? -Lotsa cream, lotsa sugar.
About the car, is there anything I need to know? Does it stall? Does it smoke? Does it make a lot of noise?
-Is there gas in it? -Aside from how it looks, the car's cool.
Positive? Don't get me on the road and I find out the brake lights don't work.
-As far as I know, the motherfucker's tip-top. -Good enough.
Let's go back to the kitchen.
-Here you go, Mr Wolf. -Thank you, Jimmie.
Okay, first thing. You two. Take the body, stick it in the trunk.
This looks to be a pretty domesticated house. That would lead me to believe you got cleansers and shit.
-Yeah. Under the sink. -Good.
What I need you two fellas to do is take those cleaning products... and clean the inside of the car-- I'm talkin' fast, fast, fast.
Go in the back seat, scoop up all those little pieces of brain and skull. Get it out of there.
Wipe down the upholstery. It don't need to be spick-and-span.
You don't need to eat off it. Just give it a good once-over.
What you need to take care of are the really messy parts. The pools of blood that have collected, you gotta soak that shit up.
We need to raid your linen closet. I need blankets, I need comforters, quilts, bedspreads.
The thicker the better, the darker the better. No whites. Can't use 'em.
We'll need to camouflage the front seat and back seat and floorboards... with quilts and blankets,
so if a cop starts stickin' his big snout in the car, the subterfuge won't last,
but at a glance the car will appear to be normal.
Jimmie, lead the way. Boys, get to work.
-"Please" would be nice. -Come again?
I said, a "please" would be nice.
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'd better fuckin' do it and do it quick.
I'm here to help. If my help's not appreciated, lotsa luck, gentlemen.
-No, Mr Wolf, it ain't like that; your help is definitely appreciated. -Mr Wolf, listen.
I don't mean disrespect, okay? I respect you. I just don't like people barkin' orders at me.
If I'm curt with you, it's because time is a factor.
I think fast, I talk fast, and I need you guys to act fast if you wanna get out of this.
So pretty please, with sugar on top, clean the fuckin' car.
Don't be lookin' at me like that, all right? I can feel your look.
It's a 1974 Chevy Nova.
Green. Nothin' except for the mess inside.
Mmm, about 20 minutes.
Nobody who'll be missed.
You're a good man, Joe. Thanks a bunch.
-How we comin', Jimmie? -Pretty good. I got it all here, but, uh,
-Mr Wolf, you gotta understand something. -Winston, Jimmie, Winston.
Okay. You gotta understand something, uh, Winston.
Uh, this is our best linen here, and it's, uh-- it was a wedding present... from my Uncle Conrad and my Aunt Ginny.
-They're not with us any more. I wanna help-- -Let me ask you a question.
-If you don't mind. -No, no, please. Go ahead.
-Your Uncle Conrad and Aunt Ginny, were they millionaires? -No.
Well, your Uncle Marsellus is.
-And I'm positive that if Uncle Conrad and Aunt... -Ginny. -Ginny were here, they would furnish you with a whole bedroom set,
which your Uncle Marsellus is more than happy to do.
I like oak myself. That's what I have in my bedroom.
-How about you, Jimmie? You an oak man? -Oak's nice.
Oh, man, I will never forgive your ass for this shit. This is some fucked-up, repugnant shit.
Jules, did you ever hear the philosophy that once a man admits he is wrong...
that he is immediately forgiven for all wrongdoings?
Get the fuck out my face with that shit!
The motherfucker that said that shit never had to pick up itty-bitty pieces of skull... on account of your dumb ass.
I got a threshold, Jules, for the abuse that I will take.
Right now, I'm a fuckin' race car, and you got me in the red.
I'm just sayin' it's fuckin' dangerous to have a race car in the fuckin' red. That's all. I could blow.
-Oh, you ready to blow? -Yeah.
Well, I'm a mushroom-cloud-layin' motherfucker, motherfucker.
Every time my fingers touch brain, I'm Superfly T.N.T. I'm the Guns of the Navarone.
In fact, what the fuck am I doin' in the back? You're the motherfucker should be on brain detail!
We're fuckin' switchin'. I'm washin' windows, and you're pickin' up this nigger's skull!
Fine job, gentlemen. You may get out of this yet.
I can't believe this is the same car.
Well, let's not start suckin' each other's dicks quite yet.
Phase one is complete-- Clean the car-- which moves us right along to Phase two: Clean you two.
Strip.
-All the way? -To your bare ass.
Quickly, gentlemen. We got about 15 minutes... before Jimmie's better half comes pulling into the driveway.
-Goddamn, this morning air is some chilly shit. -Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?
-You know what you two look like? -What?
Like a couple of guys who just blew off somebody's head.
Strippin' off those bloody rags is absolutely necessary.
Toss 'em in Jimmie's garbage bag.
-Don't do nothin' stupid, like leavin' this shit out front for the garbageman to pick up. -Don't worry, we're taking it with us.
Jim, the soap.
Okay, gentlemen. You both been to County before, I'm sure. Here it comes.
You're dry enough. Toss 'em their clothes.
Perfect. We couldn't have planned this better.
You guys look like-- What do they look like, Jimmie?
Dorks. They look like a couple of dorks.
Ha-ha-ha. They're your clothes, motherfucker.
Come on, gentlemen. We're laughing our way right into prison. Don't make me beg.
Okay, gentlemen, let's get our rules of the road straight.
We're going to a place called Monster Joe's Truck and Tow.
Monster Joe and his daughter Raquel are sympathetic to our dilemma.
The place is North Hollywood, so a few twists and turns aside, we'll be goin' up Hollywood Way.
Now, I'll drive the tainted car. Jules, you ride with me.
Vincent, you follow in my Acura.
-Now, if we come across the path of any John Q. Laws, nobody does a fuckin' thing 'til I do something. -Right.
-What did I say? -Don't do shit unless.
-Unless what? -Unless you do it first. -Spoken like a true prodigy.
How about you, Kash LaRue? Can you keep your spurs from jingling and jangling?
The gun went off. I don't know why.
-I'm cool. I promise you. -Fair enough. Now, I drive real fuckin' fast, so keep up.
If get my car back any different than I gave it, Monster Joe's gonna be disposing of two bodies.
-We cool? -Like it never happened.
-All right. -Boys, this is Raquel. Someday all this will be hers.
Hi. So, what's with the outfits?
You guys going to a volleyball game or something?
I'm takin' milady out for breakfast. Maybe I could drop you two off. Where do you live?
-Redondo. -Inglewood.
It's-- It's your future. I-- I see a-- a cab ride.
Move outta the sticks, fellas.
-Say good night, Raquel. -Good night, Raquel.
I'll see you guys around. Stay outta trouble, you crazy kids.
Mr Wolf, I just wanna tell you it was a real pleasure watching you work.
And thank you very much, Mr Wolf.
Call me Winston.
You see that, young lady? Respect.
-Respect for one's elders shows character. -I have character.
Because you are a character doesn't mean that you have character.
-Wanna share a cab? -I'd go for some breakfast.
-Feel like havin' breakfast with me? -Cool.