Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003)
Michael Bowen: Buck
[the Bride drags Buck's head to the doorjam]
The Bride : [screams] Where's Bill?
The Bride : Where's Bill?
Buck : [weakly] Please stop hitting me...
The Bride : WHERE'S BILL?
Buck : I-I don't know who Bill is!
The Bride : BULLSHIT!
[another slam; then she notices the words "BUCK" and "FUCK" tattooed on his knuckles, and suddenly has a flashback from her coma]
Buck : Well, ain't you the little slice of cutie pie they said you were. "Jane Doe," huh? Well, we don't know shit about you, huh? Well, I'm from Huntsville, Texas. My name is Buck, and I'm here to fuck, ha-ha-ha...
[back to the present]
The Bride : [gently] Your name is Buck, right?
[Buck's eyes widen]
The Bride : [getting angrier] And you came here to fuck, *right*?
Buck : Wait a minute... WAIT A MINUTE-!
[and with a scream of effort and one mighty slam, Buck is dispatched to the hereafter; she goes through his pockets and finds a large pair of sunglasses, puts them on, then finds a set of car keys with a keychain that says:]
The Bride : "Pussy Wagon." You *fucker*...
[one last slam]
[looking at the Bride in her coma]
Buck : Price is $75 a fuck, my friend. You getting your freak on, or what?
Trucker : Oh yeah, boy.
[gives Buck the money]
Buck : Now here are the rules. Rule Number One: no punching her. The nurse comes in tomorrow and she got a shiner or less some teeth, jig's up. So, no knuckle sandwiches under no circumstances. And by the way, this little cunt's a spitter. It's a motor-reflex thing. But spit or not, no punching. Now, are we absolutely, positively clear on Rule Number One?
Trucker : Yeah.
Buck : Good. Now, Rule Number Two: no monkey bites, and no hickeys. In fact, no leaving no marks of any kind on her. After that, it's all good, buddy. Now, her plumbing down there don't work no more, so feel free to come in her all you want. Keep the noise down, try not to make a mess. I'll be back in twenty.
[Buck starts to leave, but snaps his fingers and turns back]
Buck : Oh, shit! By the way, not every time but sometimes this chick's cooch will get drier than a bucket of sand. If she's dry, just lube up with this,
[tosses him a jar labeled "VasaLube"]
Buck : and you'll be good to go. Bon Appetite, good buddy.