"Tarantino, Quentin - Pulp Fiction script" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tarantino Quentin)

I'm kinda tired.

JULES
Man, you best back off, I'm gittin'
pissed -- this is the door.

The two men stand in front of the door numbered "49." They
whisper.

JULES
What time is it?

VINCENT
(checking his watch)
Seven-twenty-two in the morning.

JULES
It ain't quite time, let's hang
back.

They move a little away from the door, facing each other,
still whispering.

JULES
Look, just because I wouldn't give
no man a foot massage, don't make
it right for Marsellus to throw
Antwan off a building into a glass-
motherfuckin-house, fuckin' up the
way the nigger talks. That ain't
right, man. Motherfucker do that
to me, he better paralyze my ass,
'cause I'd kill'a motherfucker.

VINCENT
I'm not sayin' he was right, but
you're sayin' a foot massage don't
mean nothing, and I'm sayin' it
does. I've given a million ladies
a million foot massages and they
all meant somethin'. We act like
they don't, but they do. That's
what's so fuckin' cool about 'em.
This sensual thing's goin' on that
nobody's talkin about, but you know
it and she knows it, fuckin'
Marsellus knew it, and Antwan
shoulda known fuckin' better.
That's his fuckin' wife, man. He
ain't gonna have a sense of humor