Jules: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa... stop right there. Eatin' a b1tch out, and givin' a b1tch a foot massage ain't even the same fcukin' thing.
Vincent: It's not. It's the same ballpark.
Jules: Ain't no fcukin' ballpark neither. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but, you know, touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her Holiest of Holies, ain't the same fcukin' ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fcukin' sport. Look, foot massages don't mean sh1t.
Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?
Jules: [scoffs] Don't be tellin' me about foot massages. I'm the foot fcukin' master.
Vincent: Given a lot of 'em?
Jules: Shit yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be ticklin' or nothin'.
Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?
[Jules gives Vincent a long look, realizing he's been set up]
Jules: Fcuk you.
Vincent: You give them a lot?
Jules: Fcuk you.
Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired. I could use a foot massage myself.
Jules: Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' a little pissed here.