Pulp Fiction
written by Quentin Tarantino & Roger Avary
Marcellus Wallace: I think you're gonna find, when all this shit is over, I think you're gonna find yourself one smiling motherfucker. The thing is, Butch, right now you got ability. But painful as it may be, ability don't last. And your days are just about over. Now that's a hard motherfuckin' fact of life, but that's a fact of life your ass is gonna have to get realistic about. See, this business is filled to the brim with unrealistic motherfuckers. Motherfuckers who thought their ass would age like wine. If you mean it turns to vinegar, it does. If you mean it gets better with age, it don't. Besides, Butch, how many fights do you think you got in you anyhow? Two? Boxers don't have an Old Timers Place. You came close but you never made it. And if you were gonna make it, you would have made it before now. (holds out the envelope of cash to Butch, but just out of his reach) You're mine, dig?
Butch: It certainly appears so. (takes the envelope)
Marcellus: Night of the fight, you might feel a slight sting. That's pride fuckin' with you. Fuck pride! Pride only hurts, it never helps. You fight through that shit. 'Cause a year from now, when you kicking it in the Caribbean, you gonna say to yourself, "Marcellus Wallace was right."
Butch: I got no problem with that, Mr. Wallace.
Marcellus: In the 5th, your ass goes down. (Butch nods silently) Say it.
Butch: In the 5th, my ass goes down.
Kudos and much thanks go to Kevin for the donation of this monologue, it is very much appreciated.