Pulp Fiction1994

Jules:
Whoa... whoa... whoa... stop right there. Eatin' a b*tch out, and givin' a b*tch a foot massage ain't even the same f***in' thing.

Vincent:
Not the same thing, the same ballpark.

Jules:
It ain't no f***in' ballpark either. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her holyiest of holies, ain't the same ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same f***in' sport. Foot massages don't mean sh*t.

Vincent:
Have you ever given a foot massage?

Jules:
Don't be tellin' me about foot massages - I'm the foot f***in' master.

Vincent:
Given a lot of 'em?

Jules:
Sh*t yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothin'.

Vincent:
Would you give a guy a foot massage?

Jules:
F*** you.

Vincent:
You give them a lot?

Jules:
F*** you.

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

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