Reservoir Dogs: Opening Scene lyrics

1 INT. UNCLE BOB'S PANCAKE HOUSE - MORNING

Eight men dressed in BLACK SUITS, sit around a table at a breakfast cafe. They are MR. WHITE, MR. PINK, MR. BLUE, MR. BLONDE, MR. ORANGE, MR. BROWN, NICE GUY EDDIE CABOT, and the big boss, JOE CABOT. Most are finished eating and are enjoying coffee and conversation. Joe flips through a small address book. Mr. Pink is telling a long and involved story about Madonna.

MR. PINK
"Like a Virgin" is all about a girl who digs a guy with a big di*k. The whole song is a metaphor for big di*ks.

MR. BLUE
No it's not. It's about a girl who is very vulnerable and she's been f*cked over a few times. Then she meets some guy who's really sensitive--

MR. PINK
--Whoa...whoa...time out Greenbay. Tell that bullsh*t to the tourists.

JOE
(looking through his address book)
Toby...who the f*ck is Toby? Toby...Toby...think...think... think...

MR. PINK
It's not about a nice girl who meets a sensitive boy. Now granted that's what "True Blue" is about, no argument about that.

MR. ORANGE
Which one is "True Blue?"

NICE GUY EDDIE
You don't remember "True Blue?" That was a big ass hit for Madonna. sh*t, I don't even follow this Tops In Pops sh*t, and I've at least heard of "True Blue."
MR. ORANGE
Look, as*h*le, I didn't say I ain't heard of it. All I asked was how does it go? Excuse me for not being the world's biggest Madonna fan.

MR. BROWN
I hate Madonna.

MR. BLUE
I like her early stuff. You know, "Lucky Star," "Borderline" - but once she got into her "Papa Don't Preach" phase, I don't know, I tuned out.

MR. PINK
Hey, f*ck all that, I'm making a point here. You're gonna make me lose my train of thought.

JOE
Oh f*ck, Toby's that little china girl.

MR. WHITE
What's that?

JOE
I found this old address book in a jacket I ain't worn in a coon's age. Toby what? What the f*ck was her last name?

MR. PINK
Where was I?

MR. ORANGE
You said "True Blue" was about a nice girl who finds a sensitive fella. But "Like a Virgin" was a metaphor for big di*ks.
MR. PINK
Let me tell ya what "Like a Virgin"'s about. It's about some cooze who's a regular f*ck machine. I mean all the time, morning, day, night, afternoon, di*k, di*k, di*k, di*k, di*k, di*k, di*k, di*k, di*k, di*k, di*k.

MR. BLUE
How many di*ks was that?

MR. WHITE
A lot.

MR. PINK
Then one day she meets a John Holmes motherf*cker, and it's like, whoa baby. This mother f*cker's like Charles Bronson in "The Great Escape." He's diggin tunnels. Now she's gettin this serious di*k action, she's feelin something she ain't felt since forever. Pain.

JOE
Chew? Toby Chew? No.

MR. PINK
It hurts. It hurts her. It shouldn't hurt. Her pus*y should be Bubble-Yum by now. But when this cat f*cks her, it hurts. It hurts like the first time. The pain is reminding a f*ck machine what is was like to be a virgin. Hence, "Like a Virgin."

The fellas crack up.

JOE
Wong?

MR. PINK
f*ck you, wrong. I'm right! What the f*ck do you know about it anyway? You're still listening to Jerry-f*cking-Vale.
JOE
Not wrong, dumb ass, Wong! You know, like the Chinese name?

Mr. White snatches the address book from Joe's hand. They fight, but they're not really mad at each other.

MR. WHITE
Give me this f*cking thing.

JOE
What the f*ck do you think you're doin? Give me my book back!

MR. WHITE
I'm sick of f*ckin hearin it Joe, I'll give it back when we leave.

JOE
Whaddaya mean, give it to me when we leave, give it back now.

MR. WHITE
For the past fifteen minutes now, you've just been droning on with names. "Toby...Toby...Toby... Toby Wong...Toby Wong...Toby Chung...f*ckin Charlie Chan." I got Madonna's big di*k outta my right ear, and Toby Jap I-don't- know-what, outta my left.

JOE
What do you care?

MR. WHITE
When you're annoying as hell, I care a lot.

JOE
Give me my book.

MR. WHITE
You gonna put it away?

JOE
I'm gonna do whatever I wanna do with it.

MR. WHITE
Well, then, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to keep it.

MR. BLONDE
Joe, you want me to shoot him for you?

MR. WHITE
sh*t, you shoot me in a dream, you better wake up and apologize.

NICE GUY EDDIE
Have you guys been listening to K- BILLY's super sounds of the seventies weekend?

MR. PINK
Yeah, it's f*ckin great isn't it?

NICE GUY EDDIE
Can you believe the songs they been playing?

MR. PINK
No, I can't. You know what I heard the other day? "Heartbeat - It's Lovebeat," by little Tony DeFranco and the DeFranco Family. I haven't heard that since I was in fifth f*ckin grade.

NICE GUY EDDIE
When I was coming down here, I was playin it. And "The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia" came on. Now I ain't heard that song since it was big, but when it was big, I heard it a million- trillion times. I'm listening to it this morning, and this was the first time I ever realized that the lady singing the song, was the one who killed Andy.

MR. BLUE
You didn't know Vicki Lawrence killed the guy?

NICE GUY EDDIE
I thought the cheatin wife shot Andy.

MR. BLONDE
They say it in the song.

NICE GUY EDDIE
I know, I heard it. I musta zoned out whenever that part came on before. I thought when she said that little sister stuff, she was talkin about her sister- in-law, the cheatin wife.

JOE
No, she did it. She killed the cheatin wife, too.

MR. PINK
You know the part in "Gypsies, Tramps and Theives," when she says "Poppa woulda shot his if he knew what he'd done?" I could never figure out what he did.

The table laughs. The WAITRESS comes over to the table. She has the check, and a pot of coffee.

WAITRESS
Can I get anybody more coffee.

JOE
No, we're gonna be hittin it. I'll take care of the check.

She hands the bill to him.

WAITRESS
Here ya go. Please pay at the register, if you wouldn't mind.

JOE
Sure thing.

WAITRESS
You guys have a wonderful day.

They all mutter equivalents. She exits and Joe stands up.

JOE
I'll take care of this, you guys leave the tip.
(to Mr. White)
And when I come back, I want my book back.

MR. WHITE
Sorry, it's my book now.

JOE
Blonde, shoot this piece of sh*t, will ya?

Mr. Blonde shoots Mr. White with his finger. Mr White acts shot. Joe exits.

NICE GUY EDDIE
Okay, everybody cough up green for the little lady.

Everybody whips out a buck, and throws it on the table. Everybody, that is, except Mr. White.

NICE GUY EDDIE
C'mon, throw in a buck.

MR. WHITE
Uh-uh. I don't tip.

NICE GUY EDDIE
Whaddaya mean you don't tip?

MR. WHITE
I don't believe in it.

NICE GUY EDDIE
You don't believe in tipping?

MR. PINK
(laughing)
I love this kid, he's a madman, this guy.

MR. BLONDE
Do you have any idea what these ladies make? They make sh*t.

MR. WHITE
Don't give me that. She don't make enough money, she can quit.

Everybody laughs.

NICE GUY EDDIE
I don't even know a Jew who'd have the balls to say that. So let's
get this straight. You never ever tip?

MR. WHITE
I don't tip because society says I gotta. I tip when somebody deserves a tip. When somebody really puts forth an effort, they deserve a little something extra. But this tipping automatically, that sh*t's for the birds. As far as I'm concerned, they're just doin their job.

MR. BLUE
Our girl was nice.

MR. WHITE
Our girl was okay. She didn't do anything special.

MR. BLONDE
What's something special, take ya in the kitchen and suck your di*k?

They all laugh.

NICE GUY EDDIE
I'd go over twelve percent for that.

MR. WHITE
Look, I ordered coffee. Now we've been here a long f*ckin time, and she's only filled my cup three times. When I order coffee, I want it filled six times.

MR. BLONDE
What if she's too busy?

MR. WHITE
The words "too busy" shouldn't be in a waitress's vocabulary.
NICE GUY EDDIE Excuse me, Mr. White, but the last thing you need is another cup of coffee.

They all laugh.

MR. WHITE
These ladies aren't starvin to death. They make minimum wage. When I worked for minimum wage, I wasn't lucky enough to have a job that society deemed tipworthy.

NICE GUY EDDIE
Ahh, now we're getting down to it. It's not just that he's a cheap bast*rd--

MR. ORANGE
--It is that too--

NICE GUY EDDIE
--It is that too. But it's also he couldn't get a waiter job. You talk like a p*ssed off dishwasher: "f*ck those c*nts and their f*cking tips."

MR. BLONDE
So you don't care that they're counting on your tip to live?
Mr. White rubs two of his fingers together.

MR. WHITE
Do you know what this is? It's the world's smallest violin, playing just for the waitresses.

MR. BLONDE
You don't have any idea what you're talking about. These people bust their ass. This is a hard job.

MR. WHITE
So's working at McDonald's, but you don't feel the need to tip them. They're servin ya food, you should tip em. But no, society says tip these guys over here, but not those guys over there. That's bullsh*t.

MR. ORANGE
They work harder than the kids at McDonald's.

MR. WHITE
Oh yeah, I don't see them cleaning fryers.

MR. BROWN
These people are taxed on the tips they make. When you stiff 'em, you cost them money.

MR. BLONDE
Waitressing is the number one occupation for female non-college graduates in this country. It's the one jab basically any woman can get, and make a living on. The reason is because of tips.

MR. WHITE
f*ck all that.

They all laugh.

MR. WHITE
Hey, I'm very sorry that the government taxes their tips. That's f*cked up. But that ain't my fault. it would appear that waitresses are just one of the many groups the government f*cks in the ass on a regular basis. You show me a paper says the government shouldn't do that, I'll sign it. Put it to a vote, I'll vote for it. But what I won't do is play ball. And this non- college bullsh*t you're telling me, I got two words for that: "Learn to f*ckin type." Cause if you're expecting me to help out with the rent, you're in for a big f*ckin surprise.

MR. ORANGE
He's convinced me. Give me my dollar back.
Everybody laughs. Joe's comes back to the table.

JOE
Okay ramblers, let's get to rambling. Wait a minute, who didn't throw in?

MR. ORANGE
Mr. White.

JOE
(to Mr. Orange) Mr. White? (to Mr. White) Why?

MR. ORANGE
He don't tip.

JOE
(to Mr. Orange)
He don't tip?
(to Mr. White)
You don't tip? Why?

MR. ORANGE
He don't believe in it.

JOE
(to Mr. Orange)
He don't believe in it?
(to Mr. White)
You don't believe in it?

MR. ORANGE
Nope.

JOE
(to Mr. Orange)
Shut up!
(to Mr. White)
Cough up the buck, ya cheap bast*rd, I paid for your goddamn breakfast.

MR. WHITE
Because you paid for the breakfast, I'm gonna tip. Normally I wouldn't.

JOE
Whatever. Just throw in your dollar, and let's move.
(to Mr. Blonde)
See what I'm dealing with here. Infants. I'm f*ckin dealin with infants.

The eight men get up to leave. Mr. White's waist is in the F.G. As he buttons his coat, for a second we see he's carrying a gun. They exit Uncle Bob's Pancake House, talking amongst themselves.

END SCENE