Name: Jules Winnfield
Residence: “our man from Inglewood”
Area code: 310, Baby! We got no friends in the 818
Former Occupation: Hit man in the service of Marsellus Wallace
Current Occupation: Walking the earth like that Kung Fu guy
Always a gentleman, you can count on Jules never to leave your wife’s fingertip towels looking like a Maxi Pad, even without Lava soap.
Can be amazed at the little things, like a “Royale with cheese” and mayonnaise on French fries, but do keep an eye on your Big Kahuna Burger or Jules may just help himself to a bite, then wash it down with a big sip of your tasty beverage.
Your bacon’s safe around him too, because no matter how much personality he can have, a pig’s a filthy animal and Jules don’t eat no filthy animals.
Just don’t ask him to clean up brains, because he’s a mushroom-cloud-layin’ motherfucker! Every time his fingers touch brain he’s SUPERFLY T.N.T and the GUNS OF NAVARONE.
A little too quick to quote Ezekiel 25:17 for my taste, but still one Bad Motherfucker.
Quote: “Foot massages don’t mean shit.”