(no subject)
I saw this.. and realized how much I miss watching Kill Bill..
[looking at the Bride in her coma]
Buck: Price is seventy-five dollars a fuck, my friend. You getting your freak on, or what?
Trucker: Oh yeah, boy.
[gives Buck the money]
Buck: Now here are the rules. Rule Number One: no punching her. The nurse comes in tomorrow and she got her a shiner or less some teeth, jig's up. So no knuckle sandwiches under no circumstances. And by the way, this little cunt's a spitter. It's a motor-reflex thing. But spit or no, no punching. Now are we absolutely, positively clear on Rule Number One?
Trucker: Yeah.
Buck: Good. Now, Rule Number Two: no monkey bites, and no hickeys. In fact, no leaving no marks of any kind on her. After that, it's all good, buddy. Now her plumbing down there don't work no more, so feel free to come in her all you want. Keep the noise down, try not to make a mess. I'll be back in twenty.
[Buck starts to leave, but snaps his fingers and turns back]
Buck: Oh, shit! By the way, not every time but sometimes this chick's cooch will get drier than a bucket of sand. If she dry, just lube up with this,
[tosses him a jar of Vaseline]
Buck: and you'll be good to go. Bon Appetite, good buddy.
(then she kills him) har har.
[looking at the Bride in her coma]
Buck: Price is seventy-five dollars a fuck, my friend. You getting your freak on, or what?
Trucker: Oh yeah, boy.
[gives Buck the money]
Buck: Now here are the rules. Rule Number One: no punching her. The nurse comes in tomorrow and she got her a shiner or less some teeth, jig's up. So no knuckle sandwiches under no circumstances. And by the way, this little cunt's a spitter. It's a motor-reflex thing. But spit or no, no punching. Now are we absolutely, positively clear on Rule Number One?
Trucker: Yeah.
Buck: Good. Now, Rule Number Two: no monkey bites, and no hickeys. In fact, no leaving no marks of any kind on her. After that, it's all good, buddy. Now her plumbing down there don't work no more, so feel free to come in her all you want. Keep the noise down, try not to make a mess. I'll be back in twenty.
[Buck starts to leave, but snaps his fingers and turns back]
Buck: Oh, shit! By the way, not every time but sometimes this chick's cooch will get drier than a bucket of sand. If she dry, just lube up with this,
[tosses him a jar of Vaseline]
Buck: and you'll be good to go. Bon Appetite, good buddy.
(then she kills him) har har.