I just got back from Jack Rabbit Slims Diner with Vincent. You see, my husband wanted him to keep me company that night while he was out of town. My husband, Marsellus Wallace, Vincent's boss, told him to take me out and do whatever I wanted. Now, I wanted to dance, I wanted to win and I wanted that trophy. We danced good.
When I got home, Vincent had to go to the little boys room. I just wanted to sit back, listen to my favorite song and think about my new trophy. I went to light up my cigarette. Vincent just finished rolling it for me in the car before we got in the house. I ran outta my usual cigarettes before we got to the diner. After we were seated by "Buddy Holly", I asked the cowboy if would mind rolling me one of his Drum cigarettes. By the time the night was over (or at least I thought the night was over), one cigarette had turned into seven. They sure weren't no Red Apples, but I smoked them anyway.
After I lit my cigarette, my hand dropped his lighter back in the coat pocket. Right then I thought to myself, "Well well, Mr.Vega, what do we have here?" Something... Disco! I didn't think Vincent would mind me helping myself to some, seeing as Marsellus did tell him after all I could do whatever I want. And I wanted to celebrate. Let's just say, I was "down" in two shakes of a lamb's tail. I said Goddamn! Goddamn...