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-mwtherfwcker-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
mwtherfwcker, say "What" one more
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ 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 byt ch?!

BRETT
(without thinking)
What?

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

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

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

BRETT
(in agony)
No.

JULES
Then why did you try to fwck h'im
like a bytch?!

BRETT
(in spasm)
I didn't.

Now in a lower voice.

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

BRETT
(in spasm)
Yes.