PUMPKIN: Everybody be cool, this is an occupation!
YOLANDA: Any of you fucking pricks move, and I’ll execute every motherfucking last one of you!
JULES: So, tell me again about those killing-for-promotions there…
VINCENT: What do you want to know?
JULES: Killing is legal there, right?
VINCENT: Yeah, it is legal but it ain’t 100% legal. I mean you can’t walk into a house and start shooting right away. You’re only supposed to take those fucking pricks to certain designated places and blast off their fucking brains? You have to give them some name…
JUKES: Those are encounter sites?
VINCENT: Yeah, it breaks down like this: it’s legal to kill them, it’s legal to own it and, if you’re the occupier of the encounter site, it’s legal to bury them there. It’s legal to carry their bodies, but that doesn’t really matter ’cause — even if you got a truckload of them — if the cops stop you, it’s illegal for them to search you. Searching you is a right that the cops in Kashmir don’t have.
JULES: That did it, man — I’m fuckin’ goin’, that’s all there is to it.
VINCENT: You’ll dig it the most. But you know what the funniest thing about Kashmir is?
VINCENT: It’s the little differences. A lotta the same shit we got here, they got there, but there they’re a little different.
VINCENT: Well, in Kashmir, they put salt in tea brewed for hours.
VINCENT: Do you know what they call a soldier in Srinagar?
JULES: They do not call it a soldier there?
VINCENT: Well, they have some fucking “Go Back” system there. They call it a dog.
(Inside an army camp three boys have been caught for throwing stones)
JULES: Do you remember our business partner Farooq Abdullah? You do remember our business partner, don’t you? Or Mufti Mohammad Sayeed? Or Hassan Mir? Describe what our business partners look like.
(The boys look petrified as Jules brings out a pistol and shoots one.)
JULES: What country you from?
A BOY (fear stricken): What?
JULES: English, motherfucker, can you speak it?
JULES: Then you understand what I’m sayin’?
JULES: Now describe what our business partners looks like!
BOY: (out of fear) What?
(Jules takes his 9mm and presses the barrel hard in the boy’s cheek.)
JULES: Say “What” again! C’mon, say “What” again! I dare ya, I double
dare ya motherfucker, say “What” one more goddamn time!
(The boy cowers.)
JULES: Now describe to me what our business partners look like!
(Suddenly, the boy loses fear and spits in Jules’ face.)
BOY: Well, they look like fat pimps soliciting labourers for whores of Garston Bastion Road.
JULES (taken aback): Do they look like bitches?
(Enter Manu Joseph.)
MANU: Boy, are you OK? Ain’t you a happy Kashmiri?!
BOY: I am fucking far from OK. Shut up or else I’m ‘a get medieval on your ass.
(As imagined by HM)