Same motel room, except empty. WE HEAR THE SHOWER RUNNING in the bathroom. The CAMERA MOVES to the bathroom doorway. We see Fabian in a white terry cloth robe that seems to swallow her up. She's drying her head with a towel. Butch is inside the shower washing up. We see the outline of his naked body through the smoky glass of the shower door. Steam fills the bathroom. Butch turns the shower off and opens the door, popping his head out.

BUTCH I think I cracked a rib.

FABIAN Giving me oral pleasure?

BUTCH No retard, from the fight.

FABIAN Don't call me retard.

BUTCH (in a Mongoloid voice) My name is Fabby! My name is Fabby!

FABIAN Shut up fuck head! I hate that Mongoloid voice.

BUTCH Okay, sorry, sorry, sorry, I take it back! Can I have a towel please, Miss Beautiful Tulip.

FABIAN Oh I like that, I like being called a tulip. Tulip is much better than Mongoloid.

She finishes drying her hair and wraps the towel like a turban on her head.

BUTCH I didn't call you a Mongoloid, I called you a retard, but I took it back.

She hands him a towel.

BUTCH Merci beaucoup.

FABIAN Butch?

BUTCH (drying his head) Yes, lemon pie.

FABIAN Where are we going to go?

BUTCH I'm not sure yet. Wherever you want. We're gonna get a lot of money from this. But it ain't gonna be so much, we can live like hogs in the fat house forever. I was thinking we could go somewhere in the South Pacific. The kinda money we'll have'll carry us a long way down there.

FABIAN So if we wanted, we could live in Bora Bora?

BUTCH You betcha. And if after awhile you don't dig Bora Bora, then we can move over to Tahiti or Mexico. FABIAN But I do not speak Spanish.

BUTCH You don't speak Bora Boran either. Besides, Mexican is easy: Donde esta el zapataria?

FABIAN What does that mean?

BUTCH Where's the shoe store?

FABIAN Donde esta el zapataria?

BUTCH Excellent pronunciation. You'll be my little mama ceta in no time.

Butch exits the bathroom. We stay on FAbian as she brushes her teeth.

Butch keeps on from the other room.

BUTCH (OS) Que hora es? FABIAN Que hora es?

BUTCH (OS) What time is it?

FABIAN What time is it?

BUTCH (OS) Time for bed. Sweet dream, jellybean.

Fabian brushes her teeth. We watch her for a moment or two, then she remember something.

FABIAN Butch.

She walks out of the bathroom to ask Butch a question, only to find him sound asleep in bed.

She looks at him for a moment.

FABIAN Forget it.

She exits frame, going back in the bathroom. WE STAY on the WIDE SHOT of the unconscious Butch in bed.

FADE TO BLACK

FADE UP:

SAME SHOT AS BEFORE, the next morning. We find Butch still asleep in bed.

Fabian brushes her teeth half in and half out of the bathroom so she can watch TV at the same time. She still wears the terry cloth robe from the night before.

ON TV: WILLIAM SMITH and a bunch of Hell's Angels are taking on the entire Vietnamese army in the film "THE LOSERS."

Butch wakes from his sleep, as if a scary monster was chasing him. His start startles Fabian.

FABIAN Merde! You startled me. Did you have a bad dream? Butch squints down the front of the bed at her, trying to focus.

BUTCH ...yeah...are you still brushing your teeth?

FABIAN This is me. I brush my teeth all night long and into the early morning. Do you think I have a problem?

Fabian goes back into the bathroom to spit.

If that was supposed to be sarcasm, it was lost on Butch at this early hour.

Butch, still trying to chase the cobwebs away, sees on TV Hell's Angels tear-assin' through a Vietnamese prison camp.

BUTCH What are you watching?

FABIAN A motorcycle movie, I'm not sure the name.

BUTCH Are you watchin' it?

Fabian enters the room.

FABIAN In a way. Why? Would you like for me to switch it off?

BUTCH Would you please?

She reaches over and turns off the TV.

BUTCH It's a little too early in the morning for explosions and war.

FABIAN What was it about?

BUTCH How should I know, you were the one watchin' it. Fabian laughs.

FABIAN No, imbecile, what was your dream about?

BUTCH Oh, I...don't remember. It's really rare I remember a dream.

FABIAN You just woke up from it.

BUTCH Fabian, I'm not lying to you, I don't remember.

FABIAN Well, let's look at the grumpy man in the morning. I didn't say you were lying, it's just odd you don't remember your dreams. I always remember mine. Did you know you talk in your sleep?

BUTCH I don't talk in my sleep, do I talk in my sleep?

FABIAN You did last night.

BUTCH What did I say?

Laying on top of him.

FABIAN I don't know. I couldn't understand you.

She kisses Butch.

FABIAN Why don't you get up and we'll get some breakfast at that breakfast place with the pancakes.

BUTCH One more kiss and I'll get up.

Fabian gives Butch a sweet long kiss. FABIAN Satisfied?

BUTCH Yep.

FABIAN Then get up, lazy bones.

Butch climbs out of bed and starts pulling clothes out of the suitcase that Fabian brought.

BUTCH What time is it?

FABIAN Almost nine in the morning. What time does our train arrive?

BUTCH Eleven.

Seeing him looking at a pair of pants.

FABIAN Those pants are very nice. Can you wear those with that nice blue shirt you have?

He pulls a blue shirt of the suitcase.

BUTCH This one?

FABIAN That's the one. That matches.

BUTCH Okay.

He puts the cloths on.

FABIAN I'm gonna order a big plate of blueberry pancakes with maple syrup, eggs over easy, and five sausages.

BUTCH (surprised at her potential appetite) Anything to drink with that? Butch is finished dressing.

FABIAN (referring to his clothes) Oh yes, that looks nice. To drink, a tall glass or orange juice and a black cup of coffee. After that, I'm going to have a slice of pie.

As he goes through the suitcase.

BUTCH Pie for breakfast?

FABIAN Any time of the day is a good time for pie. Blueberry pie to go with the pancakes. And on top, a thin slice of melted cheese --

BUTCH -- where's my watch?

FABIAN It's there.

BUTCH No, it's not. It's not here.

FABIAN Have you looked?

By now, Butch is frantically rummaging through the suitcase.

BUTCH Yes I've fuckin' looked!!

He's now throwing clothes.

BUTCH What the fuck do you think I'm doing?! Are you sure you got it?

Fabian can hardly speak, she's never seen Butch this way.

FABIAN Uhhh...yes...beside the table drawer --

BUTCH -- on the little kangaroo. FABIAN Yes, it was on your little kangaroo.

BUTCH Well it's not here!

FABIAN (on the verge of tears) Well it should be!

BUTCH Oh it most definitely should be here, but it's not. So where is it?

Fabian is crying and scared.

Butch lowers his voice, which only serves to make him more menacing.

BUTCH Fabian, that was my father's fuckin' watch. You know what my father went through to git me that watch?...I don't wanna get into it right now...but he went through a lot. Now all this other shit, you coulda set on fire, but I specifically reminded you not to forget my father's watch. Now think, did you get it?

FABIAN I believe so....

BUTCH You believe so? You either did, or you didn't, now which one is it?

FABIAN Then I did.

BUTCH Are you sure?

FABIAN (shaking) No.

Butch freaks out, he punches the air.

Fabian SCREAMS and backs into a corner, Butch picks up the motel TV and THROWS IT AGAINST the wall.

Fabian SCREAMS IN HORROR.

Butch looks toward her, suddenly calm.

BUTCH (to Fabian) No! It's not your fault. (he approached her) You left it at the apartment.

He bends down in front of the woman who has sunk to the floor.

He touches her hand, she flinches.

BUTCH If you did leave it at the apartment, it's not your fault. I had you bring a bunch of stuff. I reminded you about it, but I didn't illustrate how personal the watch was to me. If all I gave a fuck about was my watch, I should've told you. You ain't a mind reader.

He kisses her hand. Then rises.

Fabian is still sniffling.

Butch goes to the closet.

FABIAN I'm sorry.

Butch puts on his high school jacket.

BUTCH Don't be. It just means I won't be able to eat breakfast with you.

FABIAN Why does it mean that?

BUTCH Because I'm going back to my apartment to get my watch.

FABIAN Won't the gangsters be looking for you there?

BUTCH That's what I'm gonna find out. If they are, and I don't think I can handle it, I'll split.

Rising from the floor.

FABIAN My darling, I don't want you to be murdered over a silly watch.

BUTCH One, it's not a silly watch. Two, I'm not gonna be murdered. And three, don't be scared. I won't let anything get in the way of us living a happy life together.

Butch brings her close and puts his hands on her face.

BUTCH Don't feel bad, sugar pop. Nothing you could ever do would make me permanently angry at you. (pause) I love you, remember? (he digs some money out of his wallet) Now here's some money, order those pancakes and have a great breakfast.

FABIAN Don't go.

BUTCH I'll be back before you can say, blueberry pie.

FABIAN Blueberry pie.

BUTCH Well maybe not that fast, but fast. Okay? Okay?

FABIAN Okay.

He kisses her once more and heads for the door.

BUTCH Bye-bye, sugar pop. FABIAN Bye.

BUTCH I'm gonna take your Honda.

FABIAN Okay.

And with that, he's out the door.

Fabian sits on the bed and looks at the money he gave her.

Butch is beating the steering wheel and the dash with his fists as he drives down the street.

BUTCH Of all the fuckin' things she coulda forgot, she forgets my father's watch. I specifically reminded her not to forget it. "Bedside table -- on the kangaroo." I said the words: "Don't forget my father's watch."

The little Honda races toward its destination as fast as its little engine will take it.

Butch continues:

BUTCH What the fuck am I doin'? Have I taken one too many hits to the head? That's gotta be it. Brain damage is the only excuse for this dumb a move. Stop the car, Butch. (he keeps on driving) Stop the car, Butch. (he pays no attention to himself) Butch, I'm talkin' to you. Put- your-foot-on-the-break!

Butch's foot SLAMS down hard on the break.

The little Honda SKIDS to a stop in the middle of the street. Butch HOPS out of the car like it was on fire.

Butch begins PACING back and forth, talking to himself, oblivious to PASSERSBY and traffic.

BUTCH I ain't gonna do this. This is a punchy move and I ain't punchy! Daddy would totally fuckin' understand. If he was here right now, he'd say, "Butch, git a grip. It's a fuckin' watch, man. You lose one, ya git another. This is your life you're fuckin' around with, which you shouldn't be doin' 'cause you only got one.

Butch continues to pace, but now he's silent. Then....

BUTCH This is my war. You see, Butch, what you're forgettin' is this watch isn't just a device that enables you to keep track of time. This watch is a symbol. It's a symbol of how your father, and his father before him, and his father before him, distinguished themselves in war. And when I took Marsellus Wallace's money, I started a war. This is my World War Two. That apartment in North Hollywood, that's my Wake Island. In fact, if you look at it that way, it's almost kismet that Fabian left it behind. And using that perspective, going back for it isn't stupid. It may be dangerous, but it's not stupid. Because there are certain things in this world that are worth going back for.

That's it, Butch has talked himself into it again. He HOPS in the car, starts it up and TAKES OFF.

CUT TO:

A parking meter red flag rises up, then out, leaving the arrow pointing at one hour.

Butch isn't completely reckless. He has parked his car a couple of blocks from his apartment to check things out before he goes boppin' through the front door.

Butch walks down the alley until he gets to another street, then he discreetly glances out.

Everything seems normal. More or less the right number of cars in the street. None of the parked cars appear out of place. None of them have a couple of goons sitting inside. Basically, it looks like normal morning activity in front of Butch's home.

Butch peers around a wall, taking in the vital information.

BUTCH (to himself) Everything looks hunky dorie. Looks can be deceiving, but this time I don't think they are. Why waste the manpower to stake out my place. I'd have to be a fuckin' idiot to come back here. That's how you're gonna beat 'em Butch, they keep underestimating you.

Butch walks out of the alley and is ready for anything. He crosses the street and enters his apartment courtyard.

Across the street from Butch's building, on the corner, is a combination donut shop and Japanese restaurant. A big sign sticks up in the air, with the name "Teriyaki Donut" and a graphic of a donut sticking out of a bowl of rice.

Butch is in the courtyard of his North Hollywood apartment building. Once again, everything appears normal -- the laundry room, the pool, his apartment door -- nothing appears disturbed.

Butch climbs the stairs leading to his apartment, number 12. He steps outside the door and listens inside. Nothing. Butch slowly inserts the key into the door, quietly opening it.

His apartment hasn't been touched.

He cautiously steps inside, shuts the door and takes a quick look around. Obviously, no one is there.

Butch walks into his modest kitchen, and opens the refrigerator. He takes out a carton of milk and drinks from it.

With carton in hard, Butch surveys the apartment. Then he goes to the bedroom.

His bedroom is like the rest of the apartment -- neat, clean and anonymous. The only things personal in his room are a few boxing trophies, an Olympic silver medal, a framed issue of "Ring Magazine" with Butch on the cover, and a poster of Jerry Quarry and one of George Chuvalo.

Sure enough, there's the watch just like he said it was: on the bedside table, hanging on his little kangaroo statue.

He walks through the apartment and back into the kitchen. He opens a cupboard and takes out a box of Pop Tarts. Putting down the milk, he opens the box, takes out two Pop Tarts and puts them in the toaster.

Butch glances to his right, his eyes fall on something.

What he sees is a small compact Czech M61 submachine gun with a huge silencer on it, lying on his kitchen counter.

BUTCH (softly) Holy shit.

He picks up the intimidating peace of weaponary and examines it.

Then...a toilet FLUSHES.

Butch looks up to the bathroom door, which is parallel to the kitchen. There is someone behind it.

Like a rabbit caught in a radish patch, Butch freezes, not knowing what to do.

The bathroom door opens and Vincent Vega steps out of the bathroom, tightening his belt. In his hand is the book "MODESTY BLAISE" by Peter O'Donnell.

Vincent and Butch lock eyes.

Vincent freezes.

Butch doesn't move, except to point the M61 in Vincent's direction.

Neither man opens his mouth.

Then...the toaster LOUDLY kicks up the Pop Tarts.

That's all the situation needed.

Butch's finger HITS the trigger.

MUFFLED FIRE SHOOTS out of the end of the gun.

Vincent is seemingly WRACKED with twenty bullets SIMULTANEOUSLY -- LIFTING him off his feet, PROPELLING him through the air and CRASHING through the glass shower door at the end of the bathroom.

By the time Butch removes his finger from the trigger, Vincent is annihilated.

Butch stands frozen, amazed at what just happened. His look goes from the grease spot in the bathroom that was once Vincent, down to the powerful piece of artillery in his grip.

With the respect it deserves, Butch carefully places the M61 back on the kitchen counter.

Then he exits the apartment, quickly.