Poniżej znajdziesz ósmą część oryginalnego scenariusza Pulp Fiction. Od przemowy Kapitana Koonsa do małego Butcha do pożegnania się Butcha z Esmeraldą.

33.     FADE UP:                                                        33.

        ON THE CARTOON "SPEED RACER."
        Speed is giving a detailed description of all the features on
        his race car "The Mac-5," which he does at the beginning of
        every episode.

        OFF SCREEN we hear a WOMAN'S VOICE....

                                  WOMAN'S VOICE (OS)
                       Butch.

        DISSOLVE TO:

        BUTCH'S POV
        We're in the living room of a modest two bedroom house in
        Alhambra, California, in the year 1972.
        BUTCH'S MOTHER, 35ish, stands in the doorway leading into the
        living room.  Next to her is a man dressed in the uniform of
        an American Air Force officer.  The CAMERA is the perspective
        of a five-year old boy.

                                  MOTHER
                       Butch, stop watching TV a second.
                       We got a special visitor.  Now do
                       you remember when I told you your
                       daddy dies in a P.O.W. camp?

                                  BUTCH (OS)
                       Uh-huh.

                                  MOTHER
                       Well this here is Capt. Koons.  He
                       was in the P.O.W. camp with Daddy.

        CAPT. KOONS steps inside the room toward the little boy and
        bends down on one knee to bring him even with the boy's
        eyeline.  When Koons speaks, he speaks with a slight Texas
        accent.

                                  CAPT. KOONS
                       Hello, little man.  Boy I sure
                       heard a bunch about you.  See, I
                       was a good friend of your Daddy's.
                       We were in that Hanoi pit of hell
                       over five years together.
                       Hopefully, you'll never have to
                       experience this yourself, but when
                       two men are in a situation like me
                       and your Daddy were, for as long as
                       we were, you take on certain
                       responsibilities of the other.  If
                       it had been me who had not made it,
                       Major Coolidge would be talkin'
                       right now to my son Jim.  But the
                       way it worked out is I'm talkin' to
                       you, Butch.  I got somethin' for
                       ya.

        The Captain pulls a gold wrist watch out of his pocket.

                                  CAPT. KOONS
                       This watch I got here was first
                       purchased by your great-granddaddy.
                       It was bought during the First
                       World War in a little general store
                       in Knoxville, Tennessee.  It was
                       bought by private Doughboy Ernie
                       Coolidge the day he set sail for
                       Paris.  It was your great-
                       granddaddy's war watch, made by the
                       first company to ever make wrist
                       watches.  You see, up until then,
                       people just carried pocket watches.
                       Your great-granddaddy wore that
                       watch every day he was in the war.
                       Then when he had done his duty, he
                       went home to your great-
                       grandmother, took the watch off his
                       wrist and put it in an ol' coffee
                       can.  And in that can it stayed
                       'til your grandfather Dane Coolidge
                       was called upon by his country to
                       go overseas and fight the Germans
                       once again.  This time they called
                       it World War Two.
                       Your great-granddaddy gave it to
                       your granddad for good luck.
                       Unfortunately, Dane's luck wasn't
                       as good as his old man's.  Your
                       granddad was a Marine and he was
                       killed with all the other Marines
                       at the battle of Wake Island.  Your
                       granddad was facing death and he
                       knew it.  None of those boys had
                       any illusions about ever leavin'
                       that island alive.  So three days
                       before the Japanese took the
                       island, your 22-year old
                       grandfather asked a gunner on an
                       Air Force transport named Winocki,
                       a man he had never met before in
                       his life, to deliver to his infant
                       son, who he had never seen in the
                       flesh, his gold watch.  Three days
                       later, your grandfather was dead.
                       But Winocki kept his word.  After
                       the war was over, he paid a visit
                       to your grandmother, delivering to
                       your infant father, his Dad's gold
                       watch.  This watch.  This watch was
                       on your Daddy's wrist when he was
                       shot down over Hanoi.  He was
                       captured and put in a Vietnamese
                       prison camp.  Now he knew if the
                       gooks ever saw the watch it's be
                       confiscated.  The way your Daddy
                       looked at it, that watch was your
                       birthright.  And he'd be damned if
                       and slopeheads were gonna put their
                       greasy yella hands on his boy's
                       birthright.  So he hid it in the
                       one place he knew he could hide
                       somethin'.  His ass.  Five long
                       years, he wore this watch up his
                       ass.  Then when he died of
                       disentary, he gave me the watch.  I
                       hid with uncomfortable hunk of
                       metal up my ass for two years.
                       Then, after seven years, I was sent
                       home to my family.  And now, little
                       man, I give the watch to you.

        Capt. Koons hands the watch to Butch.  A little hand comes
        into FRAME to accept it.

                                                        CUT TO:

34.     INT. LOCKER ROOM - NIGHT                                        34.

        The 27-year old Butch Coolidge is dressed in boxing regalia:
        trunks, shoes and gloves.  He lies on a table catching a few
        zzzzzz's before his big fight.  Almost as soon as WE CUT to
        him, he wakes up with a start.  Shaken by the bizarre memory,
        he wipes his sweaty face with his boxing glove.

        His trainer KLONDIKE, an older fireplug, opens the door a
        little, sticking his head in the room.  Pandemonium seems to
        be breaking out behind Klondike in the hallway.

                                  KLONDIKE
                       It's time, Butch.

                                  BUTCH
                       I'm ready.

        Klondike steps inside, closing the door on the WILD MOB
        outside.  He goes to the long yellow robe hanging on a hook.
        Butch hops off the table and, without a word, Klondike helps
        him on with the robe, which says on the back:  "BATTLING BUTCH
        COOLIDGE."

        The two men head for the door.  Klondike opens the door for
        Butch.  As Butch steps into the hallway, the Crowd goes
        apeshit.  Klondike closes the door behind him, leaving us in
        the quiet, empty locker room.

                                                        FADE TO BLACK

        TITLE CARD:

                            "THE GOLD WATCH"

        WE HEAR OVER THE BLACK AND TITLE:

                                  SPORTSCASTER #1 (OS)
                       -- well Dan, that had to be the
                       bloodiest and, hands-down, the most
                       brutal fight this city has ever
                       seen.

        The SOUND of chaos in the b.g.

        FADE IN:

35.     EXT. ALLEY (RAINING) - NIGHT                                    35.

        A taxi is parked in a dark alley next to an auditorium.  The
        sky is PISSIN' DOWN RAIN.  WE SLOWLY DOLLY toward the parked
        car.  The SOUND of the CAR RADIO can be heard coming from
        inside.

                                  SPORTSCASTER #1 (OS)
                       ...Coolidge was out of there faster
                       than I've ever seen a victorious
                       boxer vacate the ring.  Do you
                       think he knew Willis was dead?

                                  SPORTSCASTER #2 (OS)
                       My guess would be yes, Richard.  I
                       could see from my position here,
                       the frenzy in his eyes give way to
                       the realization of what he was
                       doing.  I think any man would've
                       left the ring that fast.

                                                        DISSOLVE TO:

36.     INT. TAXI (PARKED/RAINING) - NIGHT                              38.

        Inside the taxi, behind the wheel, is a female cabbie named
        ESMARELDA VILLALOBOS.  A young woman, with Spanish looks, sits
        parked, drinking a steaming hot cup of coffee out of a white
        styrofoam cup.

        The Sportscasters continue their coverage.

                                  SPORTSCASTER #1 (OS)
                       Do you feel this ring death tragedy
                       will have an effect on the world of
                       boxing?

                                  SPORTSCASTER #2 (OS)
                       Oh Dan, a tragedy like this can't
                       help but shake the world of boxing
                       to its very foundation.  But it's
                       of paramount importance that during
                       the sad weeks ahead, the eyes of
                       the W.B.A. remain firmly fixed on
                       the -- CLICK --

        Esmarelda shuts off the radio.

        She takes a sip of coffee, then hears a NOISE behind her in
        the alley.  She sticks her head out of the car door to see:

37.     A window about three stories high opens on the auditorium-side
        of the alley.  A gym bag is tossed out into a garbage dumpster
        below the window.  Then, Butch Coolidge, still dressed in
        boxing trunks, shoes, gloves and yellow robe, LEAPS to the
        dumpster below.

        ESMARELDA'S REACTION takes in the strangeness of this sight.

        Gym bag in hand, Butch CLIMBS out of the dumpster and RUNS to
        the taxi.  Before he climbs in, he takes off his robe and
        throws it to the ground.

38.     INT. TAXI (PARKED/RAINING) - NIGHT                              38.

        Butch, soaking wet, naked except for trunks, shoes and gloves,
        HOPS in the backseat, SLAMMING the door.

        Esmarelda, staring straight ahead, talks to Butch through the
        rearview mirror:

                                  ESMARELDA
                            (Spanish accent)
                       Are you the man I was supposed to
                       pick up?

                                  BUTCH
                       If you're the cab I called, I'm the
                       guy you're supposed to pick up.

                                  ESMARELDA
                       Where to?

                                  BUTCH
                       Outta here.

        The ignition key is TWISTED.  The engine ROARS to life.

        The meter is FLIPPED on.

        Esmarelda's bare foot STOMPS on the gas pedal.

39.     EXT. BOXING AUDITORIUM (RAINING) - NIGHT                        39.

        The cab WHIPS out of the alley, FISH-TAILING on the wet
        pavement in front of the auditorium at a rapid pace.

40.     INT. WILLIS LOCKER ROOM (AUDITORIUM) - NIGHT                    40.

        Locker room door opens, English Dave fights his way through
        the pandemonium which is going on outside in the hall,
        shutting the door on the madness.  Once inside, English Dave
        takes time to adjust his suit and tie.

        In the room, black boxer FLOYD RAY WILLIS lies on a table --
        dead.  His face looks like he went dunking for bees.  His
        TRAINER is on his knees, head on Floyd's chest, crying over
        the body.

        The huge figure that is Marsellus Wallace stands at the table,
        hand on the Trainer's shoulder, lending emotional support.  We
        still do not see Marsellus clearly, only that he is big.

        Mia sits in a chair at the far end of the room.

        Marsellus looks up, sees English Dave and walks over to him.

                                  MARSELLUS (OS)
                       What'cha got?

                                  ENGLISH DAVE
                       He booked.

                                  MARSELLUS (OS)
                       I'm prepared to scour the earth for
                       this motherfucker.  If Butch goes
                       to Indo China, I want a nigger
                       hidin' in a bowl of rice, ready to
                       pop a cap in his ass.

                                  ENGLISH DAVE
                       I'll take care of it.

41.     INT. CAB (MOVING/RAINING) - NIGHT                               41.

        Butch gets one of his boxing gloves off.

        Esmarelda watches in the rearview mirror.

        He tries to roll down one of the backseat windows, but can't
        find the roll bar.

                                  BUTCH
                       Hey, how do I open the window back
                       here?

                                  ESMARELDA
                       I have to do it.

        She presses a button and the back window moves down.  Butch
        tosses his boxing glove out the window, then starts untying
        the other one.

        Esmarelda can't keep quiet anymore.

                                  ESMARELDA
                       Hey, mister?

                                  BUTCH
                            (still working on the
                              glove)
                       What?

                                  ESMARELDA
                       You were in that fight?  The fight
                       on the radio -- you're the fighter?

        As he tosses his other glove out the window.

                                  BUTCH
                       Whatever gave you that idea?

                                  ESMARELDA
                       No c'mon, you're him, I know you're
                       him, tell me you're him.

                                  BUTCH
                            (drying himself with a
                              gym towel)
                       I'm him.

                                  ESMARELDA
                       You killed the other boxing man.

                                  BUTCH
                       He's dead?

                                  ESMARELDA
                       The radio said he was dead.

        He finished wiping himself down.

                                  BUTCH
                            (to himself)
                       Sorry 'bout that, Floyd.

        He tosses the towel out the window.

        Silence, as Butch digs in his bag for a tee-shirt.

                                  ESMARELDA
                       What does it feel like?

                                  BUTCH
                            (finds his shirt)
                       What does what feel like?

                                  ESMARELDA
                       Killing a man.  Beating another man
                       to death with your bare hands.

        Butch pulls on his tee-shirt.

                                  BUTCH
                       Are you some kinda weirdo?

                                  ESMARELDA
                       No, it's a subject I have much
                       interest in.  You are the first
                       person I ever met who has killed
                       somebody.  So, what was it like to
                       kill a man?

                                  BUTCH
                       Tell ya what, you give me one of
                       them cigarettes, I'll give you an
                       answer.

        Esmarelda bounces in her seat with excitment.

                                  ESMARELDA
                       Deal!

        Butch leans forward.  Esmarelda, keeping her eyes on the road,
        passes a cigarette back to him.  He takes it.  Then, still not
        looking behind her, she brings up her hand, a lit match in it.
        Butch lights his smoke, then blows out the match.

        He takes a long drag.

                                  BUTCH
                       So....

        He looks at her license

                                  BUTCH
                       ...Esmarelda Villalobos -- is that
                       Mexican?

                                  ESMARELDA
                       The name is Spanish, but I'm
                       Columbian.

                                  BUTCH
                       It's a very pretty name.

                                  ESMARELDA
                       It mean "Esmarelda of the wolves."

                                  BUTCH
                       That's one hell of a name you got
                       there, sister.

                                  ESMARELDA
                       Thank you.  And what is your name?

                                  BUTCH
                       Butch.

                                  ESMARELDA
                       Butch.  What does it mean?

                                  BUTCH
                       I'm an American, our names don't
                       mean shit.  Anyway, moving right
                       along, what is it you wanna know,
                       Esmarelda?

                                  ESMARELDA
                       I want to know what it feels like
                       to kill a man --

                                  BUTCH
                       -- I couldn't tell ya.  I didn't
                       know he was dead 'til you told me
                       he was dead.  Now I know he's dead,
                       do you wanna know how I feel about
                       it?

        Esmarelda nods her head: "yes."

                                  BUTCH
                       I don't feel the least little bit
                       bad.  You wanna know why,
                       Esmarelda?

        Esmarelda nods her head: "yes."

                                  BUTCH
                       'Cause I'm a boxer.  And after
                       you've said that, you've said
                       pretty much all there is to say
                       about me.  Now maybe that son-of-a-
                       bitch tonight was once at one time
                       a boxer.  If he was, then he was
                       dead before his ass ever stepped in
                       the ring.  I just put the poor
                       bastard outta his misery.  And if
                       he never was a boxer --
                            (Butch takes a drag)
                       That's what he gets for fuckin' up
                       my sport.

42.     EXT. PHONE BOOTH (RAINING) - NIGHT                              42.

        We DOLLY around a phone booth as Butch talks inside.

                                  BUTCH
                            (into phone)
                       What's I tell ya, soon as the word
                       got out a fix was in, the odds
                       would be outta control.
                       Hey, if he was a better fighter
                       he's be alive.  If he never laced
                       up his gloves in the first place,
                       which he never shoulda done, he'd
                       be alive.  Enough about the poor
                       unfortunate Mr. Floyd, let's talk
                       about the rich and prosperous Mr.
                       Butch.  How many bookies you spread
                       it around with?
                            (pause)
                       Eight?  How long to collect?
                            (pause)
                       So by tomorrow evening, you'll have
                       it all?
                            (pause)
                       Good news Scotty, real good news --
                       I understand a few stragglers
                       aside.  Me an' Fabian're gonna
                       leave in the morning.  It should
                       take us a couple days to get into
                       Knoxville.  Next time we see each
                       other, it'll be on Tennessee time.

        Butch hangs up the phone.  He looks at the cab waiting to take
        him wherever he wants to go.

                                  BUTCH
                            (to himself in French
                              with English
                              subtitles)
                       Fabian my love, our adventure
                       begins.

                                                        CUT TO:

43.     EXT. MOTEL (STOPPED RAINING) - NIGHT                            43.

        Esmarelda's tax pulled into the motel parking lot.  The rain
        has stopped, but the night is still soaked.  Butch gets out,
        now fully dressed in tee-shirt, jeans and high school athletic
        jacket.  He leans in the driver's side window.

                                  ESMARELDA
                       Forty-five sixty.

        Handing her the money.

                                  BUTCH
                       Merci beaucoup.  And here's a
                       little something for the effort.

        Butch holds up a hundred dollar bill.

        Esmarelda's eyes light up.  She goes to take it.  Butch holds
        it out of reach.

                                  BUTCH
                       Now if anybody should ask you about
                       who your fare was tonight, what're
                       you gonna tell 'em?

                                  ESMARELDA
                       The truth.  Three well-dressed,
                       slightly toasted, Mexicans.

        He gives her the bill.

                                  BUTCH
                       Bon soir, Esmarelda.

                                  ESMARELDA
                            (in Spanish)
                       Sleep well, Butch.

        He tweaks her nose, she smiles, and he turns and walks away.
        She drives off.


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