I don’t fuckin believe this! Can everyone stop being shot?

En dedikasjon til alle gønnere og bad-asses. Har nok sitater og bilder til å fylle en bok. Ey, det er en idé!

Anyway, creds til de som vet hvor bildene og sitatene er fra uten å jukse. Antakelig ingen.

What does Marsellus Wallace look like?
- What?
What country you from?
- What?
What ain’t no country I ever heard of! They speak English in What?

- What?

English, motherfucker! Do-you-speak-it?

- Yes!
Then you know what I’m saying!
- Yes!
Describe what Marsellus Wallace looks like!
- What, I-?
Say what again. Say what again! I dare you, I double dare you, motherfucker. Say what one more goddamn time.
- He’s b-b-black…
Go on.
- He’s bald…
Does he look like a bitch?
- What?
Does he look like a bitch?!
- No!
Then why you try to fuck him like a bitch, Brett?
- I didn’t.
Yes you did. Yes you did, Brett. You tried to fuck him. And Marsellus Wallace don’t like to be fucked by anybody, except Mrs. Wallace.

Come on then boy. I’ll have you and your girlfriends. I’ll do the lot of youse! Do I not look like a pothouse? Six foot down the bar, go on, jog on, walk on, goodbye, bon voyage, fuck off.

You see that pack of Virginia killing sticks on the end of the piano?
- Yes.
All you need to know about life is retained in those four walls. You will notice that one of your personalities is seduced by the illusions of grandeur – the gold packet of king size with a regal insignia, an attractive implication towards grandeur and wealth, the subtle suggestion that cigarettes are indeed your royal and loyal friends, and that, Pete, is a lie.
Your other personality is trying to draw your attention to the flip side of the discussion, written in boring bold black and white, it’s a statement that these neat little soldiers of death are in fact trying to kill you and that, Pete, is the truth.
Oh, beauty is a beguiling call to death and i’m addicted to the sweet pitch of its siren.
That that starts sweet ends bitter, and that which starts bitter ends sweet.
That is why you and i love the drugs and that is also why I cannot give that painting back. Now please, pass me a light.

If you hold back anything, I’ll kill ya. If you bend the truth or I think you’re bending the truth, I’ll kill ya. If you forget anything, I’ll kill ya. In fact, you’re gonna have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick. Now, do you understand everything I’ve said? ‘Cause if you don’t, I’ll kill ya.

All right, son: roll them guns up, count the money, and put your seat belt on.