Personally, I would be pretty scared if an older and sadder looking Napoleon Dynamite started impersonating a black person and yelling, “tell that bitch to be cool!” Turns out I’m not the only one who feels this way.
During a robbery in a local diner in Jonestown, Arizona, Paul Homer’s meal (which I’m just going to assume was a cheeseburger) was sorely interrupted by a couple demanding everyone hand over their wallets. Now, if I was in this situation, I would probably hastily take out my wallet, but only after I had peed my pants. But not Homer. No, this small town hero just happened to be carrying a very special wallet with him that day, one that is capable of deterring minor crimes everywhere: it was his “bad motherfucker” wallet.
Sound familiar at all? Perhaps this will jog your memory:
Yes, Homer, who obviously has either an obscene amount of free time on his hands or a photographic memory, knew the entire diner scene (and probably entire movie) from Pulp Fiction verbatim and felt this was the correct way to confront this robbery. And he just happened to be carrying his wallet that said “bad motherfucker.” Well that was lucky.
The robbers asked what was on Homer’s wallet, clearly not knowing what they were getting into. It was that question which sent Homer into a quoting frenzy, putting on his proverbial Samuel L. Jackson bad motherfucker hat, and assuming the persona of a black man far more intimidating than his white washed Charlie Sheen demeanor. Everyone in the restaurant sat amidst the tension, until Homer said, “Normally, both of your asses would be as dead as fucking fried chicken, but you happen to pull this shit while I’m in a transitional period so I don’t wanna kill you, I wanna help you.” And that was the robbers’ cue to exit.
While the restaurant owner and patrons were relieved to have Homer divert an otherwise sticky situation, no one there (nor anyone reading this for that matter) was assured of his mental state following the incident, because the acting didn’t stop after the robbers left. Homer, perhaps having recently emerged from his mother’s basement for the first time in a dog’s age, felt the need to continue being Samuel L. Jackson (AKA Jules Winnfield), yelling some pretty obscene things I shan’t repeat here. Then he asked one of the owners if he knew what they called a Quarter Pounder with cheese in France. Classic Winnfield.
A truly bizarre turn of events for the robbers, or, as the police officer at the scene so aptly put it, “down time is the real hero here today.”
You must be thinking, “this is too good to be true”. Chances are you are right. While there is no place called Jonestown, Arizona, and there may or may not be a person named Paul Homer who can quote Pulp Fiction like a badass, you’ll have to agree with me that this story certainly contains a valuable life lesson: make sure your wallet says bad motherfucker on it, in case you ever get into a sticky situation.