2.15.1.A - Obscure, random facts - (the_bigshow)
Almost all of the clocks in the movie Pulp Fiction are stuck on the time 4:20.
"There! There it is again!" When Gus reached out to slap him Shawn ducked his head without tearing his gaze off the TV, the remote in his hand pointing at the paused scene. "What do you think, what does it mean?"
"It doesn't mean anything, Shawn! Press play!"
Shawn frowned, obviously distraught by the fact that his friend didn't see the uttermost importance of the spotted detail. "But it's there, all through the movie! It has to mean something!"
"No, Shawn. It doesn't mean anything because no person in their right mind notices something like that while Travolta and Jackson are being badass ghetto angels, preaching the Gospel according to Royal with Cheese!"
Shawn looked at Gus. "Ghetto angels? Really?"
"Shut up." Gus settled back and shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth, disgruntled at the fact that the movie was still at a halt.
"Wanna hear my theory?"
"No."
"The tattoo! 4:20! 4 and 2 makes 6 and 666 is on the guy's neck! Which means Marsellus controls time!"
Gus looked at him, his lip curling in disbelief and scorn. "That has to be the lamest Pulp Fiction theory I have ever heard. And you know there are millions out there."
"You're just jealous because I thought of it first," Shawn retorted but his voice lacked the snarkiness. He was already frowning in deep concentration, still working on the clock problem. "Besides, everybody knows what's in that suitcase."
"No, Shawn. No, they do not." Gus smiled his patient, violence-implying smile. "That is the reason there are theories out there. Nobody knows what's in that suitcase."
"Well, I do."
"What? No, you don't."
"I totally do!"
"Oh yeah?" Gus sat up indignantly, puffing out his chest and narrowing his eyes at Shawn. "Tell me, then. Tell me what millions of theories all over the internet, discussions that pushed this movie into the well-deserved category of absolute cult, failed to conclude."
"Dude, first of all? You're being overly dramatic here. And second, there is only one thing in life that could have that golden glow."
"Really," he snorted. "And what is that."
Shawn settled back, a triumphant smile playing on his lips. "A flacon of Obsession."
"Oh, right." Gus rolled his eyes, the frowned. "Wait, what?"
"I'm serious, it so totally makes sense when you think about it!" Shawn leaned over to do his best Kate Moss impression. "Obsession..."
Gus slapped his ear violently as if trying to get rid of a mosquito and some of the popcorn was tossed over their laps. "Stop it, Shawn! You have a horrible exhalation voice. Besides, that ad was in black and white!"
"But it had a golden touch deep within it's anorexic shell. What's an exhalation voice?"
"Something you will never possess." He glared at the remote. "Now would you mind?"
"Yes. Of course." Shawn pressed the play button and both of them returned their attention to the screen. It took only seconds to get both of them totally caught up in the action again, the thrill of this amazing movie, the dialogues, the sheer badass-ness, the...
"Obsession."
"Shawn!"
Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 517
"There! There it is again!" When Gus reached out to slap him Shawn ducked his head without tearing his gaze off the TV, the remote in his hand pointing at the paused scene. "What do you think, what does it mean?"
"It doesn't mean anything, Shawn! Press play!"
Shawn frowned, obviously distraught by the fact that his friend didn't see the uttermost importance of the spotted detail. "But it's there, all through the movie! It has to mean something!"
"No, Shawn. It doesn't mean anything because no person in their right mind notices something like that while Travolta and Jackson are being badass ghetto angels, preaching the Gospel according to Royal with Cheese!"
Shawn looked at Gus. "Ghetto angels? Really?"
"Shut up." Gus settled back and shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth, disgruntled at the fact that the movie was still at a halt.
"Wanna hear my theory?"
"No."
"The tattoo! 4:20! 4 and 2 makes 6 and 666 is on the guy's neck! Which means Marsellus controls time!"
Gus looked at him, his lip curling in disbelief and scorn. "That has to be the lamest Pulp Fiction theory I have ever heard. And you know there are millions out there."
"You're just jealous because I thought of it first," Shawn retorted but his voice lacked the snarkiness. He was already frowning in deep concentration, still working on the clock problem. "Besides, everybody knows what's in that suitcase."
"No, Shawn. No, they do not." Gus smiled his patient, violence-implying smile. "That is the reason there are theories out there. Nobody knows what's in that suitcase."
"Well, I do."
"What? No, you don't."
"I totally do!"
"Oh yeah?" Gus sat up indignantly, puffing out his chest and narrowing his eyes at Shawn. "Tell me, then. Tell me what millions of theories all over the internet, discussions that pushed this movie into the well-deserved category of absolute cult, failed to conclude."
"Dude, first of all? You're being overly dramatic here. And second, there is only one thing in life that could have that golden glow."
"Really," he snorted. "And what is that."
Shawn settled back, a triumphant smile playing on his lips. "A flacon of Obsession."
"Oh, right." Gus rolled his eyes, the frowned. "Wait, what?"
"I'm serious, it so totally makes sense when you think about it!" Shawn leaned over to do his best Kate Moss impression. "Obsession..."
Gus slapped his ear violently as if trying to get rid of a mosquito and some of the popcorn was tossed over their laps. "Stop it, Shawn! You have a horrible exhalation voice. Besides, that ad was in black and white!"
"But it had a golden touch deep within it's anorexic shell. What's an exhalation voice?"
"Something you will never possess." He glared at the remote. "Now would you mind?"
"Yes. Of course." Shawn pressed the play button and both of them returned their attention to the screen. It took only seconds to get both of them totally caught up in the action again, the thrill of this amazing movie, the dialogues, the sheer badass-ness, the...
"Obsession."
"Shawn!"
Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 517