Pulp Fiction

As he goes through the suitcase.

BUTCH

Pie for breakfast?

FABIENNE

Any time of the day is a good time for pie. Blueberry pie to go with the pancakes. And on top, a thin slice of melted cheese –

BUTCH

– where's my watch?

FABIENNE

It's there.

BUTCH

No, it's not. It's not here.

FABIENNE

Have you looked?

By now, Butch is frantically rummaging through the suitcase.

BUTCH

Yes I've fuckin' looked!!

He's now throwing clothes.

BUTCH

What the fuck do you think I'm doing?! Are you sure you got it?

Fabienne can hardly speak, she's never seen Butch this way.

FABIENNE

Uhhh... yes... beside the table drawer –

BUTCH

– on the little kangaroo.

FABIENNE

Yes, it was on your little kangaroo.

BUTCH

Well it's not here!

FABIENNE

(on the verge of tears)

Well it should be!

BUTCH

Oh it most definitely should be here, but it's not. So where is it?

Fabienne is crying and scared.

Butch lowers his voice, which only serves to make him more menacing.

BUTCH

Fabienne, that was my father's fuckin' watch. You know what my father went through to git me that watch?... I don't wanna get into it right now... but he went through a lot. Now all this other shit, you coulda set on fire, but I specifically reminded you not to forget my father's watch. Now think, did you get it?

FABIENNE

I believe so...

BUTCH

You believe so? You either did, or you didn't, now which one is it?

FABIENNE

Then I did.

BUTCH

Are you sure?

FABIENNE

(shaking)

No.

Butch freaks out, he punches the air.

Fabienne SCREAMS and backs into a corner,

Butch picks up the motel TV and THROWS IT AGAINST the wall.

Fabienne SCREAMS IN HORROR.

Butch looks toward her, suddenly calm.

BUTCH
(to Fabienne)

No! It's not your fault.

(he approached her)

You left it at the apartment.

He bends down in front of the woman who has sunk to the floor.

He touches her hand, she flinches.

BUTCH

If you did leave it at the apartment, it's not your fault. I had you bring a bunch of stuff. I reminded you about it, but I didn't illustrate how personal the watch was to me. If all I gave a fuck about was my watch, I should've told you. You ain't a mind reader.

He kisses her hand. Then rises.

Fabienne is still sniffling.

Butch goes to the closet.

FABIENNE

I'm sorry.

Butch puts on his high school jacket.

BUTCH

Don't be. It just means I won't be able to eat breakfast with you.

FABIENNE

Why does it mean that?

BUTCH

Because I'm going back to my apartment to get my watch.

FABIENNE

Won't the gangsters be looking for you there?

BUTCH

That's what I'm gonna find out. If they are, and I don't think I can handle it, I'll split.

Rising from the floor.

FABIENNE

I was so dreadful. I saw your watch, I thought I brought it. I'm so sorry.

Butch brings her close and puts his hands on her face.

BUTCH

Don't feel bad, sugar pop. Nothing you could ever do would make me permanently angry at you.

(pause)

I love you, remember?

(he digs some money out of his wallet)

Now here's some money, order those pancakes and have a great breakfast.

FABIENNE

Don't go.

BUTCH

I'll be back before you can say, blueberry pie.

FABIENNE

Blueberry pie.

BUTCH

Well maybe not that fast, but fast. Okay? Okay?

FABIENNE

Okay.

He kisses her once more and heads for the door.

BUTCH

Bye-bye, sugar pop.

FABIENNE

Bye.

BUTCH

I'm gonna take your Honda.

FABIENNE

Okay.

And with that, he's out the door.

Fabienne sits on the bed and looks at the money he gave her.

INT. HONDA (MOVING) – DAY

Butch is beating the steering wheel and the dash with his fists as he drives down the street.

BUTCH

Of all the fuckin' things she coulda forgot, she forgets my father's watch. I specifically reminded her not to forget it. "Bedside table – on the kangaroo." I said the words: "Don't forget my father's watch."

EXT. CITY STREET – DAY

The little Honda races toward its destination as fast as is little engine will take it.

CUT TO:

A parking meter red flag rises up, then out, leaving the arrow pointing at one hour.

EXT. RESIDENTIAL STREET CORNER – DAY

Butch isn't completely reckless. He has parked his car a couple of blocks from his apartment to check things out before he goes boppin' through the front door.

EXT. ALLEY – DAY

Butch walks down the alley until he gets to another street, then he discreetly glances out.

EXT. STREET – BUTCH'S APARTMENT – DAY

Everything seems normal. More or less the right number of cars in the street. None of the parked cars appear out of place. None of them have a couple of goons sitting inside. Basically, it looks like normal morning activity in front of Butch's home.

Butch peers around a wall, taking in the vital information.

Butch walks out of the alley and is ready for anything. He crosses the street and enters his apartment courtyard.

Across the street from Butch's building, on the corner, is a combination donut shop and Japanese restaurant. A big sign sticks up in the air, with the name "Teriyaki Donut" and a graphic of a donut sticking out of a bowl of rice.

EXT. BUTCH'S APARTMENT COURTYARD – DAY

Butch is in the courtyard of his North Hollywood apartment building. Once again, everything appears normal – the laundry room, the pool, his apartment door – nothing appears disturbed.

Butch climbs the stairs leading to his apartment, number 12. He steps outside the door and listens inside. Nothing.

Butch slowly inserts the key into the door, quietly opening it.

INT. BUTCH'S APARTMENT – DAY

His apartment hasn't been touched.

He cautiously steps inside, shuts the door and takes a quick look around. Obviously, no one is there.

Butch walks into his modest kitchen, and opens the refrigerator. He takes out a carton of milk and drinks from it.

With carton in hard, Butch surveys the apartment. Then he goes to the bedroom.

His bedroom is like the rest of the apartment – neat, clean and anonymous. The only things personal in his room are a few boxing trophies, an Olympic silver medal, a framed issue of "Ring Magazine" with Butch on the cover, and a poster of Jerry Quarry and one of George Chuvalo.

Sure enough, there's the watch just like he said it was: On the bedside table, hanging on his little kangaroo statue.

He walks through the apartment and back into the kitchen. He opens a cupboard and takes out a box of Pop Tarts. Putting down the milk, he opens the box, takes out two Pop Tarts and puts them in the toaster.

Butch glances to his right, his eyes fall on something.

What he sees is a small compact Czech M61 submachine gun with a huge silencer on it, lying on his kitchen counter.

BUTCH

(softly)

Holy shit.

He picks up the intimidating peace of weaponry and examines it.

Then... a toilet FLUSHES.

Butch looks up to the bathroom door, which is parallel to the kitchen. There is someone behind it.

Like a rabbit caught in a radish patch, Butch freezes, not knowing what to do.

The bathroom door opens and Vincent Vega steps out of the bathroom, tightening his belt. In his hand is the book "Modesty Blaise" by Peter O'Donnell.

Vincent and Butch lock eyes.

Vincent freezes.

Butch doesn't move, except to point the M61 in Vincent's direction.

Neither man opens his mouth.

Then... the toaster LOUDLY kicks up the Pop Tarts.

That's all the situation needed.

Butch's finger HITS the trigger.

MUFFLED FIRE SHOOTS out of the end of the gun.

Vincent is seemingly WRACKED with twenty bullets SIMULTANEOUSLY – LIFTING him off his feet, PROPELLING him through the air and CRASHING through the glass shower door at the end of the bathroom.

By the time Butch removes his finger from the trigger, Vincent is annihilated.

Butch stands frozen, amazed at what just happened. His look goes from the grease spot in the bathroom that was once Vincent, down to the powerful piece of artillery in his grip.

With the respect it deserves, Butch carefully places the M61 back on the kitchen counter.

Then he exits the apartment, quickly.

EXT. APARTMENT COURTYARD – DAY

Butch, not running, but walking very rapidly, crosses the courtyard...

... comes out of the apartment building, crosses the street...

... goes through the alley...

... and into his car in one STEADICAM SHOT.

EXT. HONDA – DAY

Butch CRANKS the car into gear and drives away. The big wide smile of a survivor breaks across his face.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING STREET – DAY

The Honda turns down the alley and slowly cruises by his apartment building.

INT. HONDA – DAY

Butch looks out the window at his former home.

BUTCH

That's how you're gonna beat 'em, Butch. They keep underestimatin' ya.

This makes the boxer laugh out loud. As he laughs, he flips a tape in the cassette player. When the MUSIC starts, he SINGS along with it.

He drives by the apartment, but is stopped at the light on the corner across from Teriyaki Donut.

Butch is still chuckling, singing along with the song, as we see:

THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD

The big man himself, Marsellus Wallace, exit Teriyaki Donut, carrying a box of a dozen donuts and two large styrofoam cups of coffee. He steps off the curb, crossing the street in front of Butch's car. This is the first time we see Marsellus clearly.

Laughing boy stops when he sees the big man directly in front of him.

When Marsellus is in front of Butch's car, he casually glances to his left, sees Butch, continues walking... then STOPS!

DOUBLE-TAKE:

"Am I really seeing what I'm seeing?"

Butch doesn't wait for the big man to answer his own question. He STOMPS on the gas pedal.

The little Honda SLAMS into Marsellus, sending him, the donuts and the coffee HITTING the pavement at thirty miles an hour.

Butch CUTS into cross traffic and is BROAD-SIDED by a gold Camaro Z-28, BREAKING all the windows in the Honda and sending it up on the sidewalk.

Butch sits dazed and confused in the crumpled mess of what at one time was Fabienne's Honda. Blood flows from his nostrils. The still-functional tape player continues to play. A PEDESTRIAN pokes his head inside.

PEDESTRIAN

Jesus, are you okay?

Butch look at him, spaced-out.

BUTCH

I guess.

Marsellus Wallace lies sprawled out in the street. GAWKERS gather around the body.

GAWKER #1

(to the others)

He's dead! He's dead!

This jerk's yelling makes Marsellus come to.

TWO PEDESTRIANS help the shaken Butch out of the wreckage.

The woozy Marsellus gets to his feet.

GAWKER #2

If you need a witness in court, I'll be glad to help. He was a drunken maniac. He hit you and crashed into that car.

MARSELLUS

(still incoherent)

Who?

GAWKER #2

(pointing at Butch)

Him.

Marsellus follows the Gawker's finger and sees Butch Coolidge down the street, looking a shambles.

MARSELLUS

Well, I'll be damned.

The big man takes out a .45 Automatic and the Gawkers back away. Marsellus starts moving toward Butch.

Butch sees the fierce figure making a wobbly bee-line toward him.

BUTCH

Sacre bleu.

Marsellus brings up his weapon and FIRES, but he's so hurt, shaky and dazed that his arm goes wild.

He HITS a LOOKY-LOO WOMAN in the hip. She falls to the ground, screaming.

LOOKY-LOO WOMAN

Oh my God, I've been shot!

That's all Butch needs to see. He's outta here.

Marsellus RUNS after him.

The CROWD looks agape.

Butch is in a mad, limping RUN.

The big man's hot on his ass with a cockeyed wobbly run.

Butch cuts across traffic and dashes into a business with a sign that reads "MASON-DIXIE PAWNSHOP".

INT. MASON-DIXIE PAWNSHOP – DAY
 

MAYNARD, a hillbilly-lookin' boy, stands behind the counter of his pawnshop when, all of a sudden, chaos in the form of Butch RACES into his world.

MAYNARD

Can I help you wit' somethin'?

BUTCH
Shut up!

Butch quickly takes measure of the situation, than stands next to the door.

MAYNARD

Now you just wait one goddamn minute –

Before Maynard can finish his threat, Marsellus CHARGES in. He doesn't get past the doorway because Butch LANDS his fist in Marsellus' face.

The gangster's feet go out from under him and the big man FALLS FLAT on his back.

Outside, two police cars with their SIRENS BLARING race by.

Butch POUNCES on the fallen body, PUNCHING him twice more in the face.

Butch takes the gun out of Marsellus' hand, than grabs ahold of his middle finger.

BUTCH

So you like chasing people, huh?

He BREAKS the finger. Marsellus lets out a pain sound. Butch then places the barrel of the .45 between his eyes, PULLS back the hammer and places his open hand behind the gun to shield the splatter.

BUTCH

Well guess what, big man, you caught me –

MAYNARD (O.S.)

– hold it right there, godammit!