Foot Massage

↑

Jules: Do you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with cheese in France?

Brett: No.

Jules: Tell him, Vincent.

Vincent: Royale with cheese.

Jules: Royale with cheese. Do you know why they call it a Royale with cheese?

Brett: Because of the metric system?

Jules: Check out the big brain on Brett. You one smart motherfucker.

Jules: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa... stop right there. Eatin' a bitch out, and givin' a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fuckin' thing.

Vincent: It's not. It's the same ballpark.

Jules: Ain't no fuckin' ballpark neither. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but, you know, touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her Holiest of Holies, ain't the same fuckin' ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Look, foot massages don't mean shit.

Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?

Jules: [scoffs] Don't be tellin' me about foot massages. I'm the foot fuckin' master.

Vincent: Given a lot of 'em?

Jules: Shit yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be ticklin' or nothin'.

Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?

[Jules gives Vincent a long look, realizing he's been set up]

Jules: Fuck you.

Vincent: You give them a lot?

Jules: Fuck you.

Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired. I could use a foot massage myself.

Jules: Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' a little pissed here.

The Movie "Pulp Fiction" by "Quentin Tarantino"