Quotes for
Butch Coolidge (Character)
from Pulp Fiction (1994)

Pulp Fiction (1994)

Butch: Will you hand me a towel, tulip?
Fabienne: Ah, I like that. I like tulip. Tulip is much better than mongoloid.

Marsellus: In the fifth, your ass goes down. Say it.
Butch: In the fifth, my ass goes down.

Butch: [beating up Marsellus] You feel that sting, big boy, huh? That's pride FUCKIN' with you! You gotta fight through that shit!

[after Butch saves Marsellus from rapists]
Butch: You okay?
Marsellus: Naw man. I'm pretty fuckin' far from okay.
Butch: What now?
Marsellus: What now? Let me tell you what now. I'ma call a coupla hard, pipe-hittin' niggers, who'll go to work on the homes here with a pair of pliers and a blow torch. You hear me talkin', hillbilly boy? I ain't through with you by a damn sight. I'ma get medieval on your ass.
Butch: I meant what now between me and you?
Marsellus: Oh, that what now. I tell you what now between me and you. There is no me and you. Not no more.

Butch: So we cool?
Marsellus: Yeah, we cool. Two things. Don't tell nobody about this. This shit is between me, you, and Mr. Soon-To-Be-Living-The-Rest-of-His-Short-Ass-Life-In-Agonizing-Pain Rapist here. It ain't nobody else's business. Two: you leave town tonight, right now. And when you're gone, you stay gone, or you be gone. You lost all your L.A. privileges. Deal?
Butch: Deal.
Marsellus: Get your ass out of here.

[Vincent goes up to Butch at the bar]
Butch: Starin' at something, friend?
Vincent: I ain't your friend, palooka.
Butch: What did you say?
Vincent: I think you heard me just fine, punchy.

Butch: I think I cracked a rib.
Fabienne: Giving me oral pleasure?
Butch: No, retard, from the fight.

Fabienne: Whose motorcycle is this?
Butch: It's a chopper, baby.
Fabienne: Whose chopper is this?
Butch: It's Zed's.
Fabienne: Who's Zed?
Butch: Zed's dead, baby. Zed's dead.

Esmeralda: What is your name?
Butch: Butch.
Esmeralda: What does it mean?
Butch: I'm American, honey. Our names don't mean shit.

Butch: That's how you're gonna beat 'em, Butch. They keep underestimating you.

Fabienne: Where's my Honda?
Butch: Sorry, baby, but I had to crash that Honda.

Butch: Did you bring the watch?
Fabienne: I believe so.
Butch: You *believe* so? You *believe* so? What the fuck does that mean? You either did, or you didn't!
Fabienne: Then I did.
Butch: Are you sure?
Fabienne: [shakes her head, no]
[a pause]
Butch: [explodes into a rampage] Fuck! Motherfucking shit! Do you fucking know how fucking stupid you are? Shit! Fuck!
[he calms down just as quickly and suddenly as he started]
Butch: It's not your fault.

Butch: Where's my watch?
Fabienne: It's there.
Butch: No it's not.
Fabienne: It should be.
Butch: Yes, it most definitely should be but it's not here now, so where the fuck is it?

Butch: How was your breakfast?
Fabienne: It was good...
Butch: Did you get the pancakes, the blueberry pancakes?
Fabienne: No, no, they didn't have blueberry pancakes, I had to get buttermilk - are you sure you're okay?
Butch: Honey, since I left you, this has been without a doubt the single weirdest fucking day of my life! Come on, hop on - I'll tell you all about it.

Butch: I'll be back before you can say Blueberry pie.
Fabienne: Blueberry pie.
Butch: Okay, maybe not that fast. But pretty fast, alright?

Fabienne: I was looking at myself in the mirror.
Butch: Uh-huh?
Fabienne: I wish I had a pot.
Butch: You were lookin' in the mirror and you wish you had some pot?
Fabienne: A pot. A pot belly. Pot bellies are sexy.
Butch: Well you should be happy, 'cause you do.
Fabienne: Shut up, Fatso! I don't have a pot! I have a bit of a tummy, like Madonna when she did "Lucky Star," it's not the same thing.
Butch: I didn't realize there was a difference between a tummy and a pot belly.
Fabienne: The difference is huge.
Butch: You want me to have a pot?
Fabienne: No. Pot bellies make a man look either oafish, or like a gorilla. But on a woman, a pot belly is very sexy. The rest of you is normal. Normal face, normal legs, normal hips, normal ass, but with a big, perfectly round pot belly. If I had one, I'd wear a tee-shirt two sizes too small to accentuate it.
Butch: You think guys would find that attractive?
Fabienne: I don't give a damn what men find attractive. It's unfortunate what we find pleasing to the touch and pleasing to the eye is seldom the same.

Butch: [driving back to his apartment after Fabienne forgot to get his watch]
[shouts]
Butch: Shit! Of all the fucking things she could forget, she forgets my father's watch!
[normal voice]
Butch: I specifically reminded her - bedside table! On the Kangaroo! I said the words, "Don't forget my father’s watch."

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