Pulp Fic

                                   BRETT
                         I just want you to know how sorry we
                         are about how fucked up things got
                         between us and Mr. Wallace. When we
                         entered into this thing, we only had
                         the best intentions –

               As Brett talks, Jules takes out his gun and SHOOTS Roger
               three times in the chest, BLOWING him out of his chair.

               Vince smiles to himself. Jules has got style.

               Brett has just shit his pants. He's not crying or whimpering,
               but he's so full of fear, it's as if his body is imploding.

                                     JULES
                              (to Brett)
                         Oh, I'm sorry. Did that break your
                         concentration? I didn't mean to do
                         that.  Please, continue. I believe
                         you were saying something about "best
                         intentions."

               Brett can't say a word.

                                     JULES
                         Whatsamatter? Oh, you were through
                         anyway.  Well, let me retort. Would
                         you describe for me what Marsellus
                         Wallace looks like?

               Brett still can't speak.

               Jules SNAPS, SAVAGELY TIPPING the card table over, removing
               the only barrier between himself and Brett. Brett now sits
               in a lone chair before Jules like a political prisoner in
               front of an interrogator.

                                     JULES
                         What country you from!

                                     BRETT
                              (petrified)
                         What?

                                     JULES
                         "What" ain't no country I know! Do
                         they speak English in "What?"

                                     BRETT
                              (near heart attack)
                         What?

                                     JULES
                         English-motherfucker-can-you-speak-
                         it?

                                     BRETT
                         Yes.

                                     JULES
                         Then you understand what I'm sayin'?

                                     BRETT
                         Yes.

                                     JULES
                         Now describe what Marsellus Wallace
                         looks like!

                                     BRETT
                              (out of fear)
                         What?

               Jules takes his .45 and PRESSES the barrel HARD in Brett's
               cheek.

                                     JULES
                         Say "What" again! C'mon, say "What"
                         again!  I dare ya, I double dare ya
                         motherfucker, say "What" one more
                         goddamn time!

               Brett is regressing on the spot.

                                     JULES
                         Now describe to me what Marsellus
                         Wallace looks like!

               Brett does his best.

                                     BRETT
                         Well he's... he's... black –

                                     JULES
                         – go on!

                                     BRETT
                         ...and he's... he's... bald –

                                     JULES
                         – does he look like a bitch?!

                                     BRETT
                              (without thinking)
                         What?

               Jules' eyes go to Vincent, Vincent smirks, Jules rolls his
               eyes and SHOOT Brett in the shoulder.

               Brett SCREAMS, breaking into a SHAKING/TREMBLING SPASM in
               the chair.

                                     JULES
                         Does-he-look-like-a-bitch?!

                                     BRETT
                              (in agony)
                         No.

                                     JULES
                         Then why did you try to fuck 'im
                         like a bitch?!

                                     BRETT
                              (in spasm)
                         I didn't.

               Now in a lower voice.

                                     JULES
                         Yes ya did Brett. Ya tried ta fuck
                         'im.  You ever read the Bible, Brett?

                                     BRETT
                              (in spasm)
                         Yes.

                                     JULES
                         There's a passage I got memorized,
                         seems appropriate for this situation:
                         Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the
                         righteous man is beset on all sides
                         by the inequities of the selfish and
                         the tyranny of evil men.  Blessed is
                         he who, in the name of charity and
                         good will, shepherds the weak through
                         the valley of darkness, for he is
                         truly his brother's keeper and the
                         finder of lost children. And I will
                         strike down upon thee with great
                         vengeance and furious anger those
                         who attempt to poison and destroy my
                         brothers. And you will know my name
                         is the Lord when I lay my vengeance
                         upon you."

               The two men EMPTY their guns at the same time on the sitting
               Brett.