Darius Lovehall:
Say, baby... can I be Your slave? I've got to admit girl you're the shit girl... and I'm digging you like a grave. Now, do they call you Daughter to the Spinning Pulsar... or maybe Queen of 10,000 moons? Sister to the Distant yet Rising Star? Is your name Yemaya? Oh, hell no. Its got to be Oshun. Oooh, is that a smile me put on your face, child... wide as a field of jasmine and clover? Talk that talk, honey. Walk that walk, money. High on legs that'll spite Jehovah. Shit. Who am I? It's not important. But me they call me brother to the night. And right now... I'm the blues in yourleft thigh... trying to become the funk in your right. Who am I? I'll be whoever you say? But right now I'm the sight-raped hunter... blindly pursuing you as my prey. And I just want to give you injections... of sublime erections... and get you to dance to my rhythm... make you dream archetypes... of black angels in flight... upon wings of distorted, contorted... metaphoric jizm. Come on slim. Fuck your man. I ain't worried about him. It's you who I want to step to my scene. 'cause rather the deal with the fallacy... of this dry-ass reality... I'd rather dance and romance your sweet ass in a wet dream. Who am I? Well, they call me Brother to the night. And right now I'm the blues in your left thigh... trying to become the funk in your right. Is that all right?
Ricky Slade:
OK, Bob, you knocked the Jew's tooth out, right? That's gonna cost Max 8 grand, maybe more than 8 grand. You probably lost him his whole line of clientele too. Plus, you've been fucking up Jess' dancing. Now I think he knows I sold the fucking carpet van, he's been giving me looks and shit which leads to that, OK? Now he can't kill us in Los Angeles cause there's a lot of questions there right? But all of a sudden he flies us out to New York City to do a drop? We don't know what the fuck the drop is, OK? But if we disappeared out here, there's no fucking questions involved in that. There's no questions if we disappear. LA, questions, drop out here, not a lot of questions!
Bobby:
How do you come up with this shit?
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[Beck & Travis are paralyzed from eating a jungle fruit]
Beck:
[slurred] Oh, thit...
Travis:
[who can't turn his head] What? What?
Beck:
Monkey! Monkey!
Travis:
Monkey? Where? Get him away from me!
Beck:
[weakly] Get out of here, Monkey.
Travis:
[weakly] Get out of here, Monkey.
Beck:
[weakly] Get out of here, Monkey. [Sounds of a swarm of monkeys running around them and drawing closer]
Travis:
Oh, no...
Beck:
I hate this place. I hate penis-eating minnows and I hate freaky fruit. I want to go home. I want concrete. I want homemade tortellini. I want my Los Angeles Lakers. I want to go home, I want to go home, I WANT TO GO HOME! [He gets pissed off enough to overcome the paralysis and lift his head and arm, waving a tree branch]
Beck:
Get out of here, monkeys! Get out of here, monkeys! [the monkeys run off. Beck tries to stand, and promptly collapses to the ground again]
[first lines]
The Stranger:
[voiceover] Way out west there was this fella... fella I wanna tell ya about. Fella by the name of Jeff Lebowski. At least that was the handle his loving parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. Mr. Lebowski, he called himself "The Dude". Now, "Dude" - that's a name no one would self-apply where I come from. But then there was a lot about the Dude that didn't make a whole lot of sense. And a lot about where he lived, likewise. But then again, maybe that's why I found the place so darned interestin'. They call Los Angeles the "City Of Angels." I didn't find it to be that, exactly. But I'll allow there are some nice folks there. 'Course I can't say I've seen London, and I ain't never been to France. And I ain't never seen no queen in her damned undies, so the feller says. But I'll tell you what - after seeing Los Angeles, and this here story I'm about to unfold, well, I guess I seen somethin' every bit as stupefyin' as you'd see in any of them other places. And in English, too. So I can die with a smile on my face, without feelin' like the good Lord gypped me. Now this here story I'm about to unfold took place back in the early '90s - just about the time of our conflict with Sad'm and the I-raqis. I only mention it because sometimes there's a man... I won't say a hero, 'cause, what's a hero? But sometimes, there's a man. And I'm talkin' about the Dude here. Sometimes, there's a man, well, he's the man for his time and place. He fits right in there. And that's the Dude, in Los Angeles. And even if he's a lazy man - and the Dude was most certainly that. Quite possibly the laziest in Los Angeles County, which would place him high in the runnin' for laziest worldwide. But sometimes there's a man, sometimes, there's a man. Aw. I lost my train of thought here. But... aw, hell. I've done introduced him enough.
