Vincent: You know what the funniest thing about Europe is?
Jules: What?
Vincent: It’s the little differences. A lotta the same dinosaur shit we got here, they got there, but there they’re a little different.
Jules: Examples?
Vincent: Well, you know what they call an apatosaurus in France?
Jules: They don’t call it an apatosaurus?
Vincent: No, they don’t pay attention to fossil similarities among members of the same genus, they don’t know what the fuck an apatosaurus is.
Jules: What’d they call it?
Vincent: Brontosaurus with cheese.
Jules: Brontosaurus with cheese. What do they call a stegosaurus?
Vincent: Stegosaurus is stegosaurus, only they call it “le stegosaurus.”
Jules: What do they call a wooly mammoth?
Vincent: I dunno, I didn’t go into the Museum of Vertebrate Zoology.
Jimmy: What’s on my mind at this moment isn’t the coffee in the conference room, but the dead pterodactyl in my lobby.
Jules: Jimmy…
Jimmy : I’m talking here! Now, let me ask you a question, Jules. When you drove in here, did you notice the sign out front that said “dead pterodactyl storage”?
Jules: Jimmy…
Jimmy: Answer the question. Did you see a sign out in front of the museum that said “dead pterodactyl storage”?
Jules: Naw, man, I didn’t.
Jimmy: You know why you didn’t see that sign? ‘Cause storing dead pterodactyls ain’t my fucking business! This is an exhibit on Jurassic Period herbivorous dinosaurs, OK? Not fucking Cretaceous Period carnivorous pterasaurs, OK? You know what’s gonna happen if my supervisor comes in and sees a pterodactyl here? I’m gonna get reassigned. No probation, no employee education classes–fucking reassigned! And I don’t want to get fucking reassigned! Now there’s a field trip coming in less than an hour and a half. Do your classification, call in your paleontologists, and get this pterodactyl the fuck out of my museum.
Vincent: You want some velociraptor?
Jules: Nah, man, I don’t eat raptor.
Vincent: Are you Jewish?
Jules: I ain’t Jewish, man. I just don’t dig on dromaeosaurs.
Vincent: Why not?
Jules: They’re feathered dinosaurs. I don’t eat feathered dinosaurs.
Vincent: But velociraptors taste good. Deinonychus tastes good.
Jules: A turkey vulture may taste like pumpkin pie, but I’ll never know ’cause I wouldn’t eat the filthy motherfucker. Raptors are among the closest dinosaur relatives to birds. Fossil records show evidence of plumage. That’s a feathered dinosaur. I don’t want to eat no goddamn reptiles with feathers–it’s too damn weird.
Esmerelda the Cabbie: Hey, mister?
Asteroid: Yeah?
Esmerelda: You were that asteroid? The one that crashed into the Gulf of Mexico and caused the extinction-level event–that was you?
Asteroid: I’m him.
Esmerelda: You killed all those big dinosaurs.
Asteroid: They’re dead?
Esmerelda: The paleontologist on the radio said so.
Asteroid: [to himself] So long, triceratops.
Esmerelda: What does it feel like?
Asteroid: What does what feel like?
Esmerelda: Killing off an entire species of dinosaurs. Creating an impact so severe it leads to massive environmental changes, like global warming, acid rain, and the destruction of the ozone layer, so that many types of animals disappear from our planet forever.
Asteroid: Tell you what, if you give me one of them cigarettes, I’ll give you an answer.
Esmerelda: Deal!
Asteroid: [lights cigarette] I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t know the dinosaurs were extinct until you just told me. And now that I know? I don’t feel the least bit bad. After all, the K-T extinctions could have been caused by me, or a sea level change, or even a climate change caused by a massive volcanic eruption. Palontologists will be debating this shit for years.
Esmerelda: Here we are. The fare is forty-five sixty.
Asteroid: [holds out hundred dollar bill] Now if anyone should ask who your fare was tonight, what’re you going to tell ’em?
Esmerelda: The truth. Three well-dressed, slightly toasted comets.
