All language subtitles for The.Big.Lebowski.1998.REMASTERED.iNTERNAL.UHD.BDRip.x264-LiBRARiANS

Way out West
there was this fella.

Fella I wanna tell you about.

Fella by the name of
Jeff Lebowski.

Least that was the handle
that his loving parents gave him.

But he never had
much use for it himself.

This 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 to me,

and a lot about
where he lived likewise.

But then again,

maybe that's why I found the place
so darned interesting.

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 seen London,

and I never been to France,

and I ain't never seen no queen
in her damned undies, as the fella says.

But I'll tell you what,

after seeing Los Angeles and this here story
I'm about to unfold,

well, I guess
I've seen something

every bit as stupefying as you can see
in any of those other places,

and in English too.

So I can die with
a smile on my face

without feeling 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 Saddam and the Iraqis.

I only mention it 'cause
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 talking 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 is 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 running
for laziest worldwide.

But sometimes there's a man...

Sometimes there's a man...

Well, I lost my train
of thought here.

But...

Hell, I done introduced him
enough.

With them all
for a collective action...

This will not stand.

This will not stand,
this aggression against Kuwait.

Where's the money,
Lebowski?

I want that money,
Lebowski.

Bunny says you're
good for it.

Where's the money,
Lebowski?

Where's the money,
Lebowski?

Where's the fucking money,
shithead?

It's down there somewhere.
Let me take another look.

Don't fuck with us.

Your wife owes money
to Jackie Treehorn,

that means you owe money
to Jackie Treehorn.

Ever thus to deadbeats,
Lebowski.

No, don't do...

- Not on the rug, man.
- See?

See what happens, Lebowski?
You see what happens?

Nobody calls me Lebowski.
You got the wrong guy.

I'm the Dude, man.

Your name's Lebowski,
Lebowski.

Your wife is Bunny.

My wife? Bunny?

Do you see a wedding ring
on my finger?

Does this place look like
I'm fucking married?

The toilet seat's up, man!

What the fuck is this?

Obviously you're not a golfer.

- Woo?
- Yeah.

Isn't this guy supposed
to be a millionaire?

Fuck.

Yeah. What do you think?

He looks like
a fucking loser.

Hey, at least I'm housebroken.

Fucking time-waster.

Thanks a lot, asshole.

I'm throwing rocks tonight.
Mark it, Dude.

I'm telling you, this was a valued rug.
This was a...

Yeah, man. It really tied
the room together.

This was a valued...

- What tied the room together, Dude?
- My rug.

Were you listening
to the Dude's story, Donny?

- What?
- Walter.

- Were you listening to the Dude's story?
- I was bowling.

So you have no frame of
reference here, Donny.

You're like a child who wanders into
the middle of a movie and wants to know...

- Walter, what's the point, man?
- There's no reason, here's my point, Dude.

There's no fucking reason
why these two...

Yeah, Walter,
what's your point?

Walter, what is the...

Look, we all know
who is at fault here.

What the fuck
are you talking about?

No, what the fuck are you...
I'm not...

We're talking about
unchecked aggression here, Dude.

- What the fuck is he talking about?
- My rug.

Forget it, Donny!
You're out of your element!

Walter, the Chinaman
who peed on my rug,

I can't go give him a bill!

So what the fuck
are you talking about?

What the fuck are
you talking about?

The Chinaman is not
the issue here, Dude!

I'm talking about drawing
a line in the sand, Dude.

Across this line
you do not...

Also, Dude, Chinaman
is not the preferred nomenclature.

Asian-American, please.

Walter, this isn't a guy who built
the railroads here. This is a guy...

What the fuck are you...

- Walter, he peed on my rug!
- He peed on the Dude's rug.

Donny, you're out
of your element.

Dude, the Chinaman
is not the issue here.

- So, who...
- Jeff Lebowski.

The other Jeffrey Lebowski.
The millionaire.

That's fucking interesting, man.
That's fucking interesting.

Plus, he has the wealth, obviously,
and the resources,

so that there's no reason,
there's no fucking reason

why his wife should go out
and owe money all over town,

and then they come
and they pee on your fucking rug!

- Am I wrong?
- No.

- Am I wrong?
- Yeah, but...

Okay then.

That rug really tied
the room together, did it not?

- Fucking A.
- And this guy peed on it.

Donny, please.

You know, this is
the fucking guy...

I could find this
fucking Lebowski guy.

His name is Lebowski?
That's your name, Dude.

This is the guy who should
compensate me for the fucking rug.

His wife goes out and owes money
all over town, and they pee on my rug?

They pee on
your fucking rug?

- Peed on my fucking rug.
- That's right, Dude.

They peed on
your fucking rug.

This is the study.

As you can see, the various
commendations, awards...

- Jeffrey Lebowski.
- Citations, honorary degrees, et cetera.

- Very impressive.
- Oh, please feel free to inspect them.

- Oh, no, I'm not really...
- Oh, please. Please.

That is the key to
the city of Pasadena,

which Mr. Lebowski received two years ago
in recognition of his various civic...

That's the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce
Business Achiever Award,

which is given...
Oh, not necessarily given every year.

Hey, is this...

Given only when there's
a worthy somebody...

Is this him with Nancy?

Yes, indeed, that is Mr. Lebowski
with the first lady, yes.

It was taken
when Mrs. Reagan...

That's Lebowski
on the left there?

- Of course. Mr. Lebowski, on the left...
- So he's a...

You know, a handicapped
kind of guy?

Mr. Lebowski is disabled, yes.

This picture was taken when
Mrs. Reagan was first lady of the nation.

Yes, yes.

- Not of California.
- Good shot.

In fact, he met privately
with the President,

though, unfortunately, there wasn't
enough time for a photo opportunity.

- Oh, Nancy's pretty good.
- Oh, wonderful woman.

- We were very happy to...
- These are...

Oh, those are Mr. Lebowski's
children, so to speak.

Different mothers, huh?

- No, they're not...
- Racially, he's pretty cool?

They're not literally
his children.

They're the Little Lebowski
Urban Achievers,

inner city children of promise,
but without the necessary means for...

Necessary means for
a higher education,

so Mr. Lebowski is committed to sending
all of them to college.

- Excuse me.
- Oh, geez.

Thank you. Thank you.

- Far out. Think he's got room for one more?
- One...

You never went to college.

- Please, don't touch that.
- Oh, yeah, yeah. No, I did,

but, you know,
I spent most of my time

occupying various
administration buildings,

smoking a lot of Thai stick,

breaking into the ROTC
and bowling.

Tell you the truth, Brandt,
I don't remember most of it.

Okay, sir. You're a Lebowski,
I'm a Lebowski.

That's terrific.

But I am very busy,
as I imagine you are.

What can I do for you, sir?

Well, sir,
it's this rug I have.

It really tied
the room together.

You told Brandt on the phone.
He told me.

Where do I fit in?

Well, they were looking for you,
these two guys.

- You know, they...
- I'll say it again.

You told Brandt on the phone.
He told me.

I know what happened.
Yes, yes.

Oh, so you know that
they were trying to piss on your rug.

Did I urinate on your rug?

You mean, did you personally
come and pee on my rug?

Hello! Do you speak
English, sir?

¿Parla usted inglés?

I'll ask you again.
Did I urinate on your rug?

No. Like I said,
Woo peed on my rug.

I just want to
understand this, sir.

Every time a rug is micturated
upon in this fair city,

I have to compensate
the person?

Come on, man.
I'm not trying to scam anybody here.

You know, I'm just...

You're just looking for
a handout like every other...

Are you employed,
Mr. Lebowski?

Wait. Let me explain
something to you.

I am not Mr. Lebowski.

You're Mr. Lebowski.
I'm the Dude.

So that's what you call me.
You know?

That or His Dudeness,

or Duder or, you know,

El Duderino, if you're not
into the whole brevity thing.

Are you employed, sir?

Employed?

You don't go out looking for a job
dressed like that, do you? On a weekday?

Is this a...

- What day is this?
- Well, I do work, sir.

- So, if you don't mind...
- No, I do mind. The Dude minds.

This will not stand, you know.

This aggression
will not stand, man.

I mean,
your wife owes money...

My wife is not
the issue here!

I hope that someday my wife
will learn to live on her allowance,

which is ample.

But if she does not,
that is her problem, not mine,

just as the rug
is your problem.

Just as every bum's lot in life
is his own responsibility,

regardless of who
he chooses to blame.

I didn't blame anyone
for the loss of my legs.

Some Chinaman took them
from me in Korea.

But I went out
and achieved anyway.

I cannot solve your problems, sir.
Only you can.

- Well, fuck it.
- Oh, fuck it.

Yes, that's your answer.
That's your answer to everything.

Tattoo it on your forehead!

Your revolution is over,
Mr. Lebowski!

Condolences! The bums lost!

My advice to you is to do
what your parents did!

Get a job, sir!

The bums will
always lose!

Do you hear me,
Lebowski?

The bums will
always lose.

How was your meeting,
Mr. Lebowski?

Okay.

The old man told me to take
any rug in the house.

Well, enjoy.

And perhaps we'll see you
again sometime, Dude.

Yeah, sure.

If I'm in the neighborhood,
you know,

and I need to use the john.

Blow on them.

Go ahead. Blow.

You want me to blow
on your toes?

I can't blow that far.

Are you sure he won't mind?

Uli doesn't care about anything.
He's a nihilist.

Oh, that must be exhausting.

You're not blowing.

Our guest has to be getting along,
Mrs. Lebowski.

You're Bunny.

I'll suck your cock
for $1,000.

Wonderful woman.

We're all very fond of her.
Very free-spirited.

Brandt can't watch though,
or he has to pay $100.

That's marvelous.

I'm just gonna go
find a cash machine.

I'm slamming them tonight!

You guys are dead
in the water.

All right!
Way to go, Donny!

If you will it,
it is no dream.

Fucking 20 minutes late, man.
What the fuck is that?

Theodore Herzl.

State of Israel. If you will it, Dude,
it is no dream.

What the fuck are you
talking about, man?

The carrier. What's in
the fucking carrier?

Cynthia's dog.
Think it's a Pomeranian.

Can't leave him home alone
or he eats the furniture.

I'm watching it while Cynthia and Marty
Ackerman are in Hawaii.

You brought a fucking
Pomeranian bowling?

What do you mean,
brought it bowling?

I didn't rent it shoes.
I'm not buying it a fucking beer.

He's not taking your
fucking turn, Dude.

Man, if my fucking ex-wife asked me
to take care of her fucking dog

while she and her boyfriend
went to Honolulu,

I'd tell her to go fuck herself.
Why can't she board it?

First of all, Dude,
you don't have an ex.

Secondly, this is a fucking show dog
with fucking papers.

You can't board it.
It gets upset. Its hair falls out.

- Walter...
- Fucking dog has fucking papers.

Over the line!

I'm sorry, Smokey. You were over the line.
That's a foul.

Bullshit. Mark it eight, Dude.

Excuse me. Mark it zero.
Next frame.

Bullshit, Walter.
Mark it eight, Dude.

Smokey, this is not Nam.
This is bowling. There are rules.

Hey, Walter, come on.
Hey, man, it's Smokey.

So his toe slipped over
a little, you know.

- It's just a game, man.
- This is a league game.

This determines who enters
the next round robin.

- Am I wrong?
- Yeah, but I wasn't...

- Am I wrong?
- Yeah, but I wasn't over.

Give me the marker, Dude.
I'm marking an eight.

Smokey, my friend...

- You're entering a world of pain.
- Walter, man.

You mark that frame an eight,
you're entering a world of pain.

- I'm not...
- A world of pain.

Look, Dude,
this is your partner.

Has the whole world
gone crazy?

Am I the only one around here
who gives a shit about the rules?

Mark it zero!

They're calling the cops, man.
Put the piece away.

- Mark it zero!
- Walter, put the piece away.

- Walter.
- You think I'm fucking around here?

Mark it zero!

All right. It's fucking zero.

You happy,
you crazy fuck?

It's a league game, Smokey.

You can't do that, man.

These guys, you know,
they're like me, they're pacifists.

Smokey was a
conscientious objector.

You know, Dude, I myself dabbled
in pacifism at one point.

Not in Nam, of course.

And you know he's got
emotional problems, man.

You mean, beyond pacifism?

He's fragile.
He's very fragile.

I did not know that.

Well, it's all water
under the bridge.

And we do enter
the next round robin.

- Am I wrong?
- No, you're not wrong.

- Am I wrong?
- You're not wrong, Walter.

You're just an asshole.

Okay then.

Play Quintana and
O'Brien next week.

They should be pushovers.

Man, would you just...

Just take it easy, man.

You know, that's your answer
for everything, Dude.

Let me point out something.
Pacifism is not...

Look at our current situation
with that camel fucker in Iraq.

Pacifism is not something
to hide behind.

Just take it easy, man.

I'm perfectly calm, Dude.

- Yeah, waving the fucking gun around?
- Calmer than you are.

Will you just take it easy?

Calmer than you are.

Dude, this is Smokey.

Look, I don't wanna be
a hard-on about this,

and I know
it wasn't your fault,

but I just thought
it was fair to tell you

that Gilbert and I will be
submitting this to the league

and asking them
to set aside the round.

I don't know,
maybe forfeit it to us.

So, like I say, just thought,
you know, fair warning.

Tell Walter.

I'm sorry.

Mr. Lebowski,
this is Brandt at...

Well, at Mr. Lebowski's
office.

Please call us
as soon as it's convenient.

Mr. Lebowski,
this is Mel Zelnicker

of the Southern Cal
Bowling League.

I just got an informal report that
a member of your team, a Walter Sobchak,

drew a firearm
during league play.

If this is true, of course,

it contravenes a number of
the league's bylaws

and also article 27
of the league...

- Dude.
- Hey, Marty.

Dude, I finally got...

I got the venue I wanted.

I'm performing my dance quintet,
you know, my cycle,

at Crane Jackson's Fountain Street
Theater on Tuesday night.

And, well, I'd love it if
you came and gave me notes.

I'll be there, man.

Dude, tomorrow's
already the tenth.

Far out.

Oh, all right. Okay.

Just slip the rent
under my door.

Serious infraction
and examine your standing.

Thank you.

Mr. Lebowski, Brandt again.

Please do call us as soon as
you get in and I'll send the limo.

I hope you're not avoiding
this call because of the rug,

which I assure you
is not a problem.

We need your help, and...

Well, we would very much like
to see you. Thank you. It's Brandt.

We've had some
terrible news.

Mr. Lebowski's in seclusion
in the west wing.

Mr. Lebowski.

Funny.

I can look back on
a life of achievement,

challenges met,

competitors bested,

obstacles overcome.

I've accomplished
more than most men

and without
the use of my legs.

What makes a man,
Mr. Lebowski?

Dude.

Oh, I don't know, sir.

Is it being prepared
to do the right thing,

whatever the cost?

Isn't that what
makes a man?

Sure, that and
a pair of testicles.

You're joking,

but perhaps you're right.

You mind if I do a Jay?

Bunny.

Excuse me?

Bunny Lebowski.

She is the light of my life.

Are you surprised
at my tears, sir?

Oh, fucking A.

Strong men also cry.

Strong men also cry.

I received
this fax this morning.

As you can see,
it is a ransom note.

We have Bunny.

Written by men who were unable to achieve
on a level field of play.

Gather $1 million...

- Cowards!
- In unmarked, nonconsecutive 20s.

- Weaklings!
- Await instructions.

- Bums!
- No funny stuff.

Bummer.

This is a bummer, man.
That's... That's a bummer.

Brandt will fill you in
on the details.

Mr. Lebowski is prepared to make
a generous offer to you to act as courier

once we get instructions
for the money.

Why me, man?

He believes the culprits might be
the very people who soiled your rug

and you are in a unique position
to confirm or disconfirm that suspicion.

He thinks the carpet pissers
did this?

Well, Dude,
we just don't know.

Fucking Quintana.

That creep can roll, man.

- Yeah, but he's a pervert, Dude.
- Yeah.

No, he's a sex offender
with a record.

He did six months in Chino for
exposing himself to an eight-year-old.

When he moved to Hollywood,
he had to go door-to-door

to tell everyone
he was a pederast.

- What's a pederast, Walter?
- Shut the fuck up, Donny.

So, how much
did he give you?

20 grand, man. And, of course,
I still get to keep the rug.

- Just for making a hand-off?
- Yeah.

They gave Dude a beeper.

- So whenever these guys call...
- What if it's during a game?

Oh, I told them if it was during
league play...

What's during league play?

Life does not stop and start
at your convenience,

you miserable piece of shit.

- I figure...
- What's wrong with Walter, Dude?

I figure it's easy money, you know.
It's all pretty harmless.

She probably
kidnapped herself.

- What do you mean, Dude?
- Rug-peers did not do this.

Look at it. A young trophy wife
marries this guy for his money.

She figures he isn't giving
her enough, you know.

She owes money
all over town.

That fucking bitch!

It's all a goddamn
fake, man.

It's like Lenin said,

you look for the person
who will benefit and, you know...

- I Am the Walrus?
- You know, you'll...

- You know what I'm trying to say.
- I Am the Walrus.

- That fucking bitch!
- Oh, yeah!

- I Am the Walrus.
- That's...

Shut the fuck up, Donny!

V.I. Lenin, Vladimir
Ilyich Ulyanov!

What the fuck is
he talking about?

Fucking exactly what
happened to those...

That makes me
fucking sick!

- Well, what do you care, Walter?
- Those rich fucks.

This whole fucking thing.

I did not watch my buddies
die face down in the muck

so that this
fucking strumpet,

this fucking whore,
could waltz around...

I don't see any connection
with Vietnam, man.

Well, there isn't a
literal connection, Dude.

No, Walter, face it,
there isn't any connection.

- Your roll.
- Have it your way.

- Your roll.
- But my point is...

- My point is...
- Are you ready to be fucked, man?

I see you rolled your way
into the semis.

Dios mío, man.

Liam and me,
we're gonna fuck you up.

Yeah? Well, you know,
that's just like your opinion, man.

Let me tell you
something, pendejo.

You pull any of your
crazy shit with us,

you flash a piece out
on the lanes,

I'll take it away from you
and stick it up your ass

and pull the fucking trigger
till it goes click.

Jesus.

You said it, man.

Nobody fucks with the Jesus.

Eight-year-olds, Dude.

They called
about 80 minutes ago.

They want you to take the money,
drive north on the 405.

They will call you
on the portable phone

with instructions
in about 40 minutes.

One person only.

They were very clear on that,
or I'd go with you. One person only.

- What happened to your jaw?
- Oh, nothing, man.

Here's the money.

And the phone.

Please, Dude, follow whatever
instructions they give.

- All right.
- Her life is in your hands.

Man, don't say that.

Mr. Lebowski asked me to repeat that,
her life is in your hands.

Oh, shit, man.

Her life is in
your hands, Dude.

Report back to us
as soon as it's done.

- Where the fuck are you going, man?
- Take the ringer, I'll drive.

- The what?
- The ringer.

The ringer, Dude.

- What the...
- Have they called yet?

What the hell is this?

My dirty undies, Dude.
The laundry. The whites.

Walter, I'm sure there's a reason
you brought your dirty undies, man.

That's right, Dude.
The weight.

The ringer cannot look empty.

Walter, what the fuck
are you thinking, man?

You're right, Dude.
I got to thinking.

I got to thinking, why should we settle
for a measly fucking 20 grand...

We? What the fuck, we?
You said you just wanted to come along.

My point, Dude,
is why should we settle for 20 grand

when we can keep the entire million?
Am I wrong?

Yes, you're wrong.
This isn't a fucking game, man.

Oh, but it is a game.
You said so yourself.

- She kidnapped herself.
- I said I thought...

- Dude, here.
- Who is this?

Dude. The bagman, man.
Where do you want us to go?

Us?

Shit!

Yeah, you know,
me and the driver.

I'm not handling the money, driving the car
and talking on the phone all by my...

Shut the fuck up!

- Dude, are you fucking this up?
- Who is that?

That is the driver.
I told you...

- Oh, shit!
- What the fuck's going on?

- Walter...
- What the fuck is going on?

He hung up, man.
You fucked it up. You fucked it up!

- Her life was in our hands, man.
- Easy, Dude.

We're screwed now. We don't get shit.
They're gonna kill her.

- We're fucked, Walter.
- Nothing is fucked, Dude.

Come on.
You're being very un-Dude.

They'll call back.
Look, she kidnapped...

You see?
Nothing's fucked here, Dude.

Nothing is fucked.
They're a bunch of fucking amateurs.

Walter, will you just
shut the fuck up?

Don't say peep while
I'm doing business here, man.

Okay, Dude.
Have it your way.

- But they're amateurs.
- Fuck.

Dude.

Okay, we proceed
but only if there is no funny stuff.

Yeah, yeah.

So no funny stuff. Okay?

Just tell me where the fuck
you want us to go.

That was the sign, man.

So, all we gotta do
is get her back.

No one's in a position
to complain.

- We keep the baksheesh.
- Yeah, terrific, Walter.

But you haven't told me how we're gonna
get her back. Where is she?

That's the simple part, Dude.

We make the hand-off, I grab one of them
and beat it out of him.

That's a great plan, Walter.

That's fucking ingenious,
if I understand it correctly.

It's a Swiss fucking watch.

That's right, Dude.
The beauty of this is its simplicity.

Once a plan gets too complex,
everything can go wrong.

If there's one thing
I learned in Nam...

Dude.

You are coming
to wooden bridge.

When you cross the bridge,

you throw the bag from the left
window of the moving car.

You're being watched.

- Fuck.
- What'd he say? Where's the hand-off?

There is no fucking
hand-off, man.

At the wooden bridge
we throw the money out of the car.

We throw the money
out of the moving car.

We can't do that, Dude.
That fucks up our plan.

Well, call them up
and explain it to them, Walter.

Your plan is
so fucking simple,

I'm sure they'll
fucking understand it.

That's the beauty of it.

- Wooden bridge, huh?
- Throw them the money, Walter.

We're not fucking around, man.

Okay, Dude, the bridge is coming up.
Give me the ringer, chop-chop.

Fuck that.
Walter, I love you,

but sooner or later you're gonna have to
face the fact you're a goddamn moron.

- Okay, Dude. No time to argue.
- Hey, man!

- Here's the bridge.
- Hey, Walter! Hey, Walter!

- Hey, Walter!
- Here goes the ringer!

- What the fuck?
- Okay, Dude, you're wheel.

- Hey, man, what the fuck?
- At 15mph, I roll out.

I double back, grab one of them
and beat it out of him.

- The Uzi.
- Uzi.

You didn't think I was rolling
out of here naked, did you?

- Walter, please!
- Fifteen, Dude! This is it! Let's take that hill!

Walter!

We have it!

We have it!

We have it!

Fuck it, Dude.

Let's go bowling.

Aitz chaim he, Dude,
as the ex used to say.

What the fuck is that
supposed to mean?

What the fuck are we
gonna tell Lebowski?

Oh, him.

I don't know.
What exactly is the problem?

The problem is...

What do you mean,
what's the...

There was no...

We didn't...

They're gonna kill
that poor woman, man!

What the fuck
are you talking about?

The poor woman,
that poor slut kidnapped herself.

Come on, Dude.
You said so yourself.

Man, I said I thought
she kidnapped herself.

You're the one who's
so fucking certain.

That's right, Dude.
100% certain.

They posted the next round
for the tournament.

Donny, shut the fuck...

- When do we play?
- This Saturday. Quintana and...

Saturday?
Well, they'll have to reschedule.

Walter, what am I gonna
tell Lebowski?

I told that fuck down at the league office.
Who's in charge of scheduling?

- Walter!
- Burkhalter.

I told that kraut a fucking thousand times,
I don't roll on shabbos!

- Walter!
- They already posted it.

Well, they can
fucking un-post it!

Who gives a shit? They're gonna kill
that poor woman, man!

- What am I gonna tell Lebowski?
- Come on, Dude.

Eventually she'll get tired of her little
game and, you know, wander on back.

How come you don't roll
on Saturday, Walter?

I'm shomer shabbos.

- What's that, Walter?
- Yeah, and in the meantime,

what do I tell Lebowski?

Saturday, Donny, is shabbos,
the Jewish day of rest.

That means I don't work,
I don't drive a car,

I don't fucking
ride in a car,

I don't handle money,
I don't turn on the oven

and I sure as shit
don't fucking roll!

Sheesh.

Shomer shabbos!

- Walter, how am I gonna...
- Shomer fucking shabbos!

- Oh, fuck! That's it. I'm out of here.
- Oh, come on, Dude.

Dude! Dude!

You just tell him...

Tell him we made the drop
and everything went, you know...

Oh, yeah.
How'd it go?

Went all right. Dude's car got
a little dinged up.

Walter, we didn't make
the fucking hand-off, man!

They didn't get
the fucking money!

And they're gonna...
they're gonna...

They're gonna kill
that poor woman.

They're gonna kill
that poor woman!

Walter, if you can't
ride in a car,

then how do you get
around on shabbos?

Really, Dude,
you surprise me.

They're not gonna
kill shit.

They're not gonna do shit.

What can they do to her?
Bunch of fucking amateurs.

And meanwhile,
look at the bottom line.

Who's sitting on a million
fucking dollars?

- Am I wrong?
- Walter.

Who's got a fucking million fucking dollars
sitting in the trunk of our car?

- Our car, Walter?
- And what do they got? My dirty undies.

My fucking whites!

Say, Dude?

Where is your car?

- Who's got your undies, Walter?
- Where's your car, Dude?

You don't know, Walter?

It was parked in a handicap zone.
Perhaps they towed it.

You fucking know
it's been stolen.

Well, certainly that's
a possibility, Dude.

Oh, fuck it.

- Where you going, Dude?
- I'm going home, Donny.

- Phone's ringing, Dude.
- Thank you, Donny!

Yeah.

Green with some brown,
rust coloration.

And was there anything
of value in the car?

Oh, yeah.

A tape deck, some Creedence
tapes, and there was a...

My briefcase.

In the briefcase?

Papers.

Just papers.

You know, my papers,
business papers.

- And what do you do, sir?
- I'm unemployed.

My rug was also stolen.

Your rug was in the car?

No. Here.

Separate incidents.

The Dude is not in.

Do you find them much,
these stolen cars?

Sometimes.

Wouldn't hold out much hope
for the tape deck though.

Or the Creedence.

What about the briefcase?

Mr. Lebowski,
I'd like to see you.

Call when you get home
and I'll send a car for you.

My name is Maude Lebowski.
I'm the one who took your rug.

Well, guess we can close the file
on that one.

I'll be with you in
a moment, Mr. Lebowski.

Does the female form make you
uncomfortable, Mr. Lebowski?

- Is that what this is a picture of?
- In a sense, yes.

My art has been commended
as being strongly vaginal,

which bothers some men.

The word itself makes
some men uncomfortable.

- Vagina.
- Oh, yeah?

Yes, they don't like hearing it
and find it difficult to say,

whereas without
batting an eye,

a man will refer to his dick,
or his rod or his johnson.

Johnson?

All right, Mr. Lebowski,
let's get down to cases.

My father told me he agreed
to let you have the rug,

but as it was a gift from me to
my late mother, it was not his to give.

Now, your face.

As for this kidnapping.

Yes, I know all about it,
and I know that you acted as courier.

Let me tell you something.
The whole thing stinks to high heaven.

Yeah, right, but let me explain
something about the rug.

Do you like sex,
Mr. Lebowski?

- Excuse me?
- Sex, the physical act of love. Coitus.

- Do you like it?
- I was talking about my rug.

You're not interested in sex?

- You mean coitus?
- I like it too.

It's a male myth about
feminists that we hate sex.

It can be a natural,
zesty enterprise.

However, there are
some people,

it is called satyriasis in men,
nymphomania in women,

who engage in it compulsively
and without joy.

- Oh, no.
- Oh, yes, Mr. Lebowski.

These unfortunate souls cannot love,
in the true sense of the word.

Our mutual acquaintance,
Bunny, is one of these.

Listen, Maude,

I'm sorry if your stepmother
is a nympho,

but, you know, I don't see
what this has to do with...

- You have any Kahlua?
- Take a look at this, sir.

Oh, I know that guy.

He's a nihilist.

Karl Hungus.

- Hi.
- Hello.

Mein dispatcher says there is
something wrong with dein Kabel.

Yeah. Come on in.

I'm not really sure exactly
what's really wrong with the cable.

That's why they sent me.
I am an expert.

The TV's in here.

- You recognize her, of course.
- Helga, bring my tools.

That's my friend Sherry.

She just came over
to use the shower.

The story is ludicrous.

My name is Karl.
Ich bin expert.

You must be here
to fix the cable.

Lord, you can imagine
where it goes from here.

He fixes the cable?

Don't be fatuous, Jeffrey.

Little matter to me that this woman chose
to pursue a career in pornography,

nor that she has been
banging Jackie Treehorn,

to use the parlance
of our times.

However, I am one of the two trustees
of the Lebowski Foundation,

the other being my father.

The foundation takes
youngsters from Watts and...

Shit, yeah. The achievers.

Little Lebowski Urban Achievers, yes,
and proud we are of all of them.

I asked my father about his withdrawal
of $1 million from the foundation account,

and he told me
about this abduction,

but I tell you
it is preposterous.

This compulsive fornicator is taking
my father for the proverbial ride.

- Yeah, but my...
- I'm getting to your rug.

My father and I don't get along.

He doesn't approve
of my lifestyle and,

needless to say,
I don't approve of his.

However, I hardly wish to make my father's
embezzlement a police matter.

So I'm proposing that you
try to recover the money

from the people
you delivered it to.

Well, I could do that.

If you successfully do so,

I will compensate you to the tune of
10% of the recovered sum.

- A hundred...
- Thousand. Yes.

Bones or clams or
whatever you call them.

- Yeah, but what about my...
- Your rug, yes.

Well, with that money
you can buy any number of rugs

that don't have sentimental
value for me.

And I am sorry about
that crack on the jaw.

Oh, that's fine.
That doesn't even...

Here's the name and number of a doctor
who will look at it for you.

You will receive no bill.

He's a good man
and thorough.

That's thoughtful but...

Please see him, Jeffrey.
He's a good man and thorough.

Oh, well, all right.

So he says,
my wife's a pain in the ass.

She's always busting
my frigging agates.

My daughter's married
to a loser bastard.

I got a rash so bad on my ass
I can't even sit down.

But you know me,
I can't complain.

Oh, fucking A, man.

I got a rash, man. Fucking A.

I gotta tell you, Tone, man,

earlier today I was really
feeling shitty, man.

Really down in the dumps.

Lost a little money...

Hey, you know what? Forget about it, huh?
Forget about it.

Yeah, fuck it, man.

You can't be worried about that shit.
Life goes on, man.

Well, home, sweet home,
Mr. L.

Hey, yo. Come here.

Who's your friend
in the Volkswagen?

Yeah.
He followed us here.

When did he start...
What the fuck?

Get in the limo, you son of a bitch!
No arguments!

Hey! Hey! Careful, man!
There's a beverage here!

Start talking, and talk fast,
you lousy bum.

We've been frantically
trying to reach you, Dude.

Where is my goddamn money,
you bum?

Well, we... I don't...

They did not receive the money,
you nitwit!

They did not receive the money!

Her life was
in your hands!

This is our concern, Dude.

No, man.
Nothing is fucked here.

- Nothing is fucked?
- No, man.

The goddamn plane
has crashed into the mountain!

Man, come on. Who are you gonna
believe, those guys or...

We dropped off the damn money.

We?

I, the royal we.

You know. The editorial...

I dropped off the money
exactly as per...

Look, man, I've got certain information.
All right?

Certain things have
come to light and...

You know, has it ever
occurred to you

that instead of, you know,
running around, blaming me...

You know, given the nature
of all this new shit,

you know, this could be
a lot more complex...

I mean, it's not just... It might not be
just such a simple... You know?

What in God's holy name
are you blathering about?

Well, I'll tell you what
I'm blathering about.

I've got information, man.

New shit has come to light.

And, shit, man,

she kidnapped herself.

Well, sure, man.
Look at it. You know?

A young trophy wife,
in the parlance of our times, you know.

She owes money all over town,
including to known pornographers.

And that's cool.
That's cool.

I'm saying
she needs money, man.

And, you know, of course they're gonna
say they didn't get it

because she wants more, man.

She's gotta feed the monkey.
I mean...

Hasn't that ever
occurred to you, man?

Sir?

No, Mr. Lebowski,
it had not occurred to me.

That had not
occurred to us, Dude.

Well, okay, you know?

You guys aren't privy
to all the new shit, so, you know...

But, hey, that's what you...
That's what you pay me for.

Speaking of which,

do you think that you could
give me my $20,000 in cash?

My concern is, and I've gotta
check it with my accountant,

that this might bump me up
into a higher tax...

Brandt, give him
the envelope.

Oh, well, if you've already got
the check made out, that's cool.

We received this
this morning.

Since you have
failed to achieve,

even in the modest task
which was your charge,

since you have
stolen my money,

since you have unrepentantly
betrayed my trust,

I have no choice
but to tell these bums

to do whatever is necessary

to recover their money
from you, Jeffrey Lebowski.

And with Brandt as my witness,
I will tell you this,

any further harm
visited upon Bunny

will be visited tenfold
upon your head.

By God, sir,

I will not abide another toe.

That wasn't her toe, Dude.

- Whose toe was it, Walter?
- How the fuck should I know?

- I do know that nothing about it indicates...
- The nail polish, Walter.

Fine, Dude.

As if it's impossible to get some nail
polish, apply it to someone else's toe...

- Someone else...
- Pinking shears.

Where the fuck are
they gonna get...

You want a toe?
I can get you a toe.

Believe me,
there are ways, Dude.

- You don't wanna know about it, believe me.
- Yeah, but, Walter...

Hell, I could get you a toe by 3:00
this afternoon with nail polish.

- These fucking amateurs.
- Walter...

They send us a toe, we're supposed to
shit ourselves with fear.

- Jesus Christ!
- Walter...

- The point is...
- They're gonna kill her, Walter,

and then they're
gonna kill me.

Dude, that's...

That's just the
stress talking, man.

Now, so far we have what appears to me
to be a series of victimless crimes.

- What about the toe?
- Forget about the fucking toe!

Excuse me, sir. Could you please
keep your voices down?

This is a family restaurant.

Oh, please! Dear,
for your information,

the Supreme Court has roundly rejected
prior restraint.

Come on. Walter, this is not
a First Amendment thing, man.

Sir, if you don't calm down,
I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.

Lady, I got buddies
who died face down in the muck

so that you and I can enjoy
this family restaurant!

- All right, I'm out of here.
- Hey, Dude, don't go away, man.

Come on. This affects all of us, man!
It's our basic freedoms!

I'm staying.

I'm finishing my coffee.

Enjoying my coffee.

The Dude is not in.

Leave a message after the beep.
It takes a minute.

Mr. Lebowski, this is Duty Officer
Rolvaag of the LAPD.

We've recovered
your automobile.

It can be claimed at the North Hollywood
Auto Circus there on Victory.

Their hours there are...

Far out, man. Far fucking out!

Hey! This is a private
residence, man.

Oh, nice marmot.

Where is the money, Lebowski?
We wants the money, Lebowski!

You think we are kidding or
making with the funny stuff?

We could do things
you haven't dreamed of, Lebowski.

- Ja, we believes in nothing.
- We believes in nothing, Lebowski. Nothing!

And tomorrow we come back
and we cut off your johnson.

- Excuse me?
- I said, we cut off your johnson!

Just think about that,
Lebowski.

Your wiggly penis, Lebowski.

Ja. Maybe we stomp on it
and squish it.

It was discovered last night
Van Nuys lodged against an abutment.

Oh, man. Lodged where?

You're lucky she didn't
get chopped, Mr. Lebowski.

- Oh, man!
- Must've been a joyride situation.

They abandoned the vehicle
once they hit the retaining wall.

Oh, my fucking briefcase, man!
It's not here! Shit!

Yeah, I saw that
on the report. Sorry.

You gotta get in
on the other side.

The side view was found
on the road by the car.

You're lucky they left the tape deck
though, and the Creedence.

Oh, Jesus!
What's that smell, man?

Yeah. It's probably
a vagrant slept in the car.

Or maybe just used it
as a toilet and moved on.

Hey, man,

are you gonna find these guys?

Or, you know, I mean...
You got any promising leads or...

Leads?

Yeah. Sure.

I'll just check with the boys
down at the crime lab.

They got four more detectives
working on the case.

They got us working in shifts!

Leads!

My only hope is that
the big Lebowski kills me

before the Germans
can cut my dick off.

Leads!

Now, that is just
ridiculous, Dude.

No one's going to
cut your dick off.

- Thank you, Walter.
- Not if I have anything to say about it.

Thank you, Walter.

- That makes me feel very secure.
- Dude?

- That makes me feel very warm inside, man.
- Dude?

This whole fucking thing.

I could be sitting here
with just pee stains on my rug.

- But no, man, I got a, you know...
- Yeah. Fucking Germans.

Nothing changes.

- Fucking Nazis.
- They were Nazis, Dude?

Oh, come on, Donny.
They were threatening castration!

Are we gonna split hairs here?

- No.
- Am I wrong?

- Well, he didn't...
- Man, they were nihilists, man.

They kept saying they
believed in nothing.

Nihilists.

Fuck me.

I mean, say what you want about
the tenets of national socialism, Dude.

- At least it's an ethos.
- Yeah.

And, also, let's not forget...
Let's not forget, Dude,

that keeping wildlife,
an amphibious rodent,

for, you know,
domestic...

Within the city...

- That ain't legal, either.
- What are you, a fucking park ranger now?

No! I'm just trying to...

Who gives a shit
about the fucking marmot?

- We are sympathizing here, Dude.
- Fuck sympathy.

I don't need your fucking sympathy, man.
I need my fucking johnson.

- What do you need that for, Dude?
- You have got to buck up, man!

You cannot drag this negative energy
into the tournament.

Fuck the tournament.
Fuck you, Walter.

Fuck the tournament?

Okay, Dude. I can see
you don't want to be cheered up here.

Come on, Donny.
Let's go get us a lane.

- Another Caucasian, Gary.
- Right, Dude.

- Friends like these, huh, Gary?
- That's right, Dude.

- You got a good sarsaparilla?
- Sioux City Sarsaparilla?

Yeah. That's a good one.

How're you doing there, Dude?

Not too good, man.

- One of those days, huh?
- Yeah.

Well, a wiser fellow
than myself once said...

Sometimes you eat
the bear and...

Much obliged.

Sometimes the bear,
well, he eats you.

That some kind of
Eastern thing?

Far from it.

I like your style, Dude.

Oh, well, I dig
your style too, man.

Got a whole cowboy thing going.

Thank you.

There's just one thing, Dude.

What's that?

Do you have to use
so many cuss words?

What the fuck are
you talking about?

Okay, Dude. Have it your way.

Take her easy, Dude.

Yeah. Thanks, man.

Call for you, Dude.

- Hello?
- Jeffrey, you have not gone to the doctor.

Oh, yeah, no.
No, I haven't yet.

I'd like to see you
immediately.

- So, you're Lebowski.
- Yeah.

Maude has told me
all about you.

She'll be back in a minute.
Sit down.

- Do you want a drink?
- Yeah, sure. White Russian.

The bar's over there.

- So, what do you do, Lebowski?
- Who the fuck are you, man?

- Just a friend of Maudie's.
- Yeah? The friend with the cleft asshole?

- What do you do?
- Oh, nothing much.

- Hello, Jeffrey.
- Hello.

Yeah. How are you?
Listen, Maude.

I got to

tender my resignation
or whatever

because looks like your mother really
was kidnapped after all.

She most certainly was not.

Hey, man, why don't you
fucking listen occasionally?

You might learn something.
Now, I got...

Please don't call her
my mother.

She's most definitely the perpetrator
and not the victim.

I'm telling you, I've got
pretty definitive evidence.

- From who?
- From the main guy, Uli.

Uli Kunkel? Her co-star
in the beaver picture?

You mean vagina?
I mean, you know the guy?

I might have introduced them,
for all I know.

Do you remember Uli?

He's a musician.
Used to have a group, Autobahn.

Look in my LP's. They released
one album in the late '70s.

Their music is
sort of a techno pop.

- So he's pretending to be the abductor?
- Well, yeah.

Look, Jeffrey, you don't really kidnap
someone you're acquainted with.

The whole idea is that the hostage
can't identify you after you've let them go.

Well, I know that.

What the fuck is with this guy?
Who is he?

Knox Harrington,
the video artist.

So, Uli has the money.

Well, no, not exactly.

This is a very complicated
case, Maude.

You know, a lot of ins,
a lot of outs,

a lot of what-have-yous

and a lot of strands
to keep in my head, man.

You know, a lot of strands
in the old Duder's head.

Hello?

If Uli doesn't have it,
then who does?

It's Sandra
about the Biennale.

Look. I have to take this.
Do you still have that doctor's number?

- No, really, it's not even bruised anymore.
- Oh, please, Jeffrey.

I don't want to be responsible
for any delayed aftereffects.

Aftereffects?

Could you slide your shorts down,
Mr. Lebowski, please?

No, no, man.
She hit me right here.

I understand. Could you slide
your shorts down, please?

Keeping mighty cool.

He lives in North Hollywood on Radford,
near the In-N-Out Burger.

No, the In-N-Out Burger's
on Camrose.

- Near the In-N-Out Burger.
- Those are good burgers, Walter.

Shut the fuck up, Donny.
The kid is in the ninth grade, Dude.

And his father is...
Are you ready for this?

His father is
Arthur Digby Sellers.

Who the fuck is that?

- Who the fuck is Arthur Digby Sellers?
- Who the...

Have you ever heard of a little show
called Branded, Dude?

Yes, yes, I...

All but one man died
there at Bitter Creek.

I know the fucking show,
Walter. So what?

Fucking Arthur Digby Sellers
wrote 156 episodes, Dude.

The bulk of the series.

- Not exactly a lightweight.
- No.

And yet his son
is a fucking dunce.

Anyway, we'll go there
after the what-have-you.

We'll brace the kid.
Should be a pushover.

We'll be near
the In-N-Out Burger.

Shut the fuck up, Donny!

We'll go out there, we'll brace the kid.
He should be a pushover.

We'll get that fucking
million dollars back,

if he hasn't
spent it already.

A million fucking clams.

- And, yes, we'll be near the...
- In-N-Out.

Some burgers, some beers.
A few laughs.

Our fucking troubles
are over, Dude.

Oh, fuck me, man.

That kid's already spent
all the money, man.

New Vette? Hardly, Dude.

I'd say he still has $960,000,
$970,000 left, depending on the options.

Wait in the car, Donny.

- Yes?
- Pilar?

My name is Walter Sobchak.
This is my associate, Jeffrey Lebowski.

We came to talk
about little Larry.

- May we come in?
- Yes, yes.

Thank you.

That's him, Dude.

And a good day
to you, sir!

Sit down, please.

Larry, sweetie,
the man is here!

Is he...
Does he still write?

Oh, no, no.
He has health problems.

Sir, I just want to say

that we're both,
on a personal level,

really enormous fans.

Branded, especially
the early episodes,

was truly a source
of inspiration.

Sweetie, sit down.
This man is the police.

Oh, no, ma'am. We didn't want to give
the impression that we were police, exactly.

We're hoping it won't be necessary
to call the police.

But that's up to
little Larry here.

Isn't it, Larry?

Is this your homework, Larry?

- Is this your homework, Larry?
- Look, man, it...

Dude. Please?
Is this your homework, Larry?

Just ask him about
the car, man.

Is this yours, Larry?
Is this your homework, Larry?

Is that your car out front?

- Is this your homework, Larry?
- We know it's his fucking homework!

Where's the fucking money,
you little brat?

Look, Larry, have you
ever heard of Vietnam?

- For Christ's sake, Walter.
- You are entering a world of pain, son.

We know that this is your homework.
We know that you stole the car.

- And the fucking money.
- And the fucking money!

And we know that
this is your homework!

We're gonna cut
your dick off, Larry.

You're killing
your father, Larry.

All right.
This is pointless.

Okay, time for Plan B.

You might want to watch out
that front window, Larry.

Son, this is what happens
when you fuck a stranger in the ass!

A little language
problem here.

Little prick's
stonewalling me.

Walter.

What are you doing, man?

What are you doing?

Here you go, Larry.

You see what happens?

You see what happens, Larry?

- You see what happens?
- Oh, great.

This is what happens when you fuck
a stranger in the ass, Larry.

This is what happens, Larry.

You see what happens, Larry?

You see what happens when you fuck
a stranger in the ass?

This is what happens!

You see what happens, Larry?

You see what happens, Larry?

Do you see what happens, Larry,
when you fuck a stranger in the ass?

This is what happens, Larry!

This is what happens, Larry!

- My car! My baby!
- This is what happens, Larry!

This is what happens
when you fuck a stranger...

What the fuck are you
doing, man? Stop it!

- Hey, man.
- I just bought that fucking car last week!

- Whoa, whoa, whoa! I'm sorry!
- I'm gonna fucking kill you!

- I just bought the fucking car last week!
- Come on, man.

I'll kill your
fucking car, man!

No, no. Hey, hey,
that's not his! Hey!

- God damn it!
- Oh, no!

- Fuck you!
- Man. No.

You like that? Fuck you!

- I'll kill your fucking car!
- No. No, no. No.

I'll kill your fucking car!

I accept your apology.

No, I just want to handle it
by myself from now on.

No. No. No!

That has nothing
to do with it.

Yes, the car made it home.
You're calling me at home.

No, Walter, it did not look
like Larry was about to crack!

Well, that's your perception.

You know, Walter,
you're right.

There is an unspoken
message here.

It's, fuck you!
Leave me the fuck alone!

Yeah, I'll be at practice.

Pin your diapers on,
Lebowski.

Jackie Treehorn
wants to see you.

Jackie Treehorn knows
which Lebowski you are, Lebowski.

Jackie Treehorn wants to see
the deadbeat Lebowski.

You're not dealing
with morons here.

Hello, Dude.
Thanks for coming.

I'm Jackie Treehorn.

This is quite a pad
you got here, man.

Completely unspoiled.

- What's your drink, Dude?
- A White Russian. Thanks.

White Russian.

- How's the smut business, Jackie?
- I wouldn't know, Dude.

I deal in publishing,
entertainment, political advocacy.

- Which one's Logjammin'?
- Yes, regrettably, it's true.

Standards have fallen
in adult entertainment.

It's video, Dude.

Now that we're competing
with those amateurs,

we can't afford to invest
in little extras like story,

production value, feelings.

You know, people forget that the brain
is the biggest erogenous zone.

On you maybe.

Of course, you have to take
the good with the bad.

New technology permits us
to do very exciting things

in interactive
erotic software.

Wave of the future, Dude.
100% electronic.

Well, I still jerk off
manually.

Of course you do. I can see
you're anxious for me to get to the point.

Well, here it is, Dude.

Where's Bunny?

- Well, I thought you might know that, man.
- Why would I?

She only ran off to get away
from that rather sizable debt to me.

No, she didn't run off.
She's been...

I heard that kidnapping story,
so save it.

I know you're mixed up
in all this, Dude.

And I don't care what you're trying
to get from the husband.

That's your business.

All I'm saying is I want mine.

Yeah, right, man.

I mean, there are a lot of
facets to this,

a lot of interested parties.

Excuse me.

Yeah?

Oh, yeah?

Where is that?

All right. Yeah.

Excuse me.

- Forgive me.
- No problemo, man.

So, if I can find your money,

what's in it for the Dude?

Well, of course, there's that to discuss.
You want a refill?

- Yeah, does the pope shit in the woods?
- 10% finder's fee.

- That all right?
- Okay. Done, Jackie.

I dig the way
you do business, man.

Your money is being held by a kid
named Larry Sellers.

He lives in North Hollywood
on Radford,

by the In-N-Out Burger.

Fucking brat.

But I'm sure your goons can get it
off him. I mean, he's 15.

Flunking social studies.

So, if you could just

write me a check for
my 10% of half a million,

5 grand,
I'll go out and mingle.

You mix a hell of
a Caucasian, Jackie.

Fifteen-year-old kid.

- Is this some sort of a joke?
- No. No joke.

No funny stuff, Jackie.
The kid's got it.

Hi, fellas.

Kid just wanted a car.

All the Dude ever wanted
was his rug back.

Not greedy.

It really

tied the room together.

Darkness washed
over the Dude.

Darker than a black steer's tokus
on a moonless prairie night.

There was no bottom.

He was innocent.

Not a charge was true.

And they say
he ran away branded.

Is this your only ID?

I know my rights, man.

You don't know shit, Lebowski.

I want a fucking lawyer, man.

I want Bill Kunstler, man,

or Ron Kuby.

Mr. Treehorn tells us
that he had to eject you

from his garden party,

that you were drunk
and abusive.

Mr. Treehorn treats objects
like women, man.

Mr. Treehorn draws
a lot of water in this town.

You don't draw shit, Lebowski.

Now, we got a nice quiet
little beach community here,

and I aim to keep it
nice and quiet.

So let me make
something plain.

I don't like you sucking around
bothering our citizens, Lebowski.

I don't like your
jerk-off name.

I don't like your
jerk-off face.

I don't like your
jerk-off behavior.

And I don't like you,
jerk-off.

Do I make myself clear?

I'm sorry. I wasn't listening.

Fucking fascist!

Stay out of Malibu, Lebowski.

Stay out of Malibu, deadbeat!

Keep your ugly, fucking, gold-bricking
ass out of my beach community.

Jesus, man. Could you
change the channel?

Fuck you, man! If you don't like
my fucking music,

get your own fucking cab!

I had a really rough...

I'll pull off to the side
and kick your ass out.

Man, come on. I had a rough night,
and I hate the fucking Eagles, man.

- Out of my fucking cab! Out!
- Man!

Man! Man! Hey!

There's a thousand pretty
women waiting out there

And they're all livin'
devil may care

And I'm just the devil
with love to spare

So viva Las Vegas

Viva Las Vegas

Oh, Jesus!

Jeffrey.

- Maude?
- Love me.

That's my robe.

Tell me about
yourself, Jeffrey.

Well, not much to tell.

I was one of the authors
of the Port Huron Statement.

The original
Port Huron Statement.

Not the compromised
second draft.

Then I...

You ever hear of
the Seattle Seven?

That was me.

And there were
six other guys.

And then the music
business, briefly.

Yeah.

Roadie for Metallica.

Speed of Sound tour.

Bunch of assholes.

And then, you know,
little of this, little of that.

My career's slowed down
a little lately.

What do you do
for recreation?

Well, the usual.

Bowl, drive around,

the occasional
acid flashback.

What happened
to your house?

Oh, Jackie Treehorn
trashed the place.

He thought I had
your father's money.

He got me out of the way
while he looked for it.

- Cocktail?
- No, thanks.

It's not my father's money.
It's the foundation's.

Why did he think you have it?
Who does?

Oh, Larry Sellers, this high school kid.
Real fucking brat.

You know, this is a very
complicated case, Maude.

A lot of ins, a lot of outs.

You know, fortunately, I'm adhering
to a pretty strict, drug regimen

to keep my mind,
you know, limber,

and I'm very fucking close
to your father's money.

I keep telling you,
it's the foundation's money.

Father doesn't have any.

What are you talking about?
He's fucking loaded.

No, no. The wealth
is all Mother's.

No, he runs stuff.

We did let him run one
of the companies briefly,

- but he didn't do very well at it.
- Oh, he's, you know...

No, he helps administer
the charities now,

and I give him
a reasonable allowance.

He has no money of his own.

I know how he likes
to present himself.

Father's weakness is vanity,
hence the slut.

Do you think he...

What is that, yoga?

It increases the chances
of conception.

- Increases...
- Well, yes.

What did you think this was all about?
Fun and games?

I want a child.

Okay, yeah, okay.

But let me... Let me explain
something about the Dude.

Look, Jeffrey,
I don't want a partner.

In fact, I don't want the father
to be someone I have to see socially

or who will have any interest
in raising the child himself.

- So, that doctor...
- Exactly.

Now, what happened
to your face?

Did Jackie Treehorn
do that as well?

No, it was the chief of police of Malibu,
a real reactionary.

So, your father...

- Oh, yeah, I get it. Yeah. Yeah.
- What?

Oh, man. My thinking about this case
has become very uptight.

Yeah.

Your father.

Jeffrey, what are
you talking about?

Jeffrey!

Walter, if you're there,
pick up the fucking phone, man.

Come on, Walter.

- Pick it up, man. This is an emergency.
- Dude? Dude?

Yeah. Listen, Walter. I'm at my place.
I need you to come pick me up.

- I can't drive, Dude. It's Erev shabbos.
- What?

- Erev shabbos.
- What?

- Erev shabbos. I can't drive.
- Man!

I'm not even supposed to pick up
the phone unless it's an emergency.

- This is a fucking emergency!
- I understand.

That's why I picked up
the phone.

Walter, you fuck.
We gotta go to Pasadena, man.

Come pick me up or I'm off
the fucking bowling team.

Get out of that
fucking car, man!

Get out of that fucking car!

Get the fuck
out of the car, man.

Get out of the fucking...

- Who the fuck are you, man?
- Easy, man!

Relax, man.

No physical harm intended.

Who the fuck are you?
Why you following me around?

- Come on, fuckhead!
- Relax, man. I'm a brother shamus.

Brother Shamus?

Like an Irish monk?

What the fuck are
you talking about?

My name is Da Fino.
I'm a private snoop, like you, man.

- What?
- A dick, man.

And let me tell you something,
I dig your work.

Playing one side against the other,
in bed with everybody.

- Fabulous stuff, man.
- I'm not...

Fuck it, man. Just stay away from
my fucking lady friend.

Hey, I'm not messing
with your special lady.

She's not my special lady.
She's my fucking lady friend.

- I'm just helping her conceive, man!
- Hey, man. I'm not...

Who are you working for?
Lebowski?

Jackie Treehorn?

The Kneutsons.

Who the fuck are
the Kneutsons?

The Kneutsons,
it's a wandering daughter job.

Bunny Lebowski, man.

Her real name is
Fawn Kneutson.

Her parents
want her back, see?

Jesus fucking Christ.

Crazy, huh?
Ran away about a year ago.

The Kneutsons told me I should show
her this when I found her.

It's the family farm.
It's outside Moorhead, Minnesota.

- They think it'll make her homesick.
- Oh, boy.

How are you gonna keep them
down on the farm

once they've seen
Karl Hungus?

- She's been kidnapped, Da Fino.
- Oh, man.

Or I don't know.
Maybe not.

But she's definitely
not around.

Hey, maybe you and me
could pool our resources,

trade information.

Professional courtesy?

Compeers.
You know what I mean?

Yeah, yeah, I get it.
Fuck off, Da Fino.

And stay away
from my special...

From my fucking
lady friend, man!

The lingonberry pancake.

Lingonberry pancakes.

Three pigs in blanket.

She has lingonberry pancakes.

I mean, we totally fucked it up, man.
We fucked up his payoff.

We got the kidnappers
all pissed off.

And Lebowski, you know,
he yelled at me a lot,

but he didn't do
anything, huh?

- Well, sometimes it's a cathartic...
- No, no.

I'm saying that
if he knows I'm a fuckup,

why does he leave me
in charge of getting his wife back?

Because he doesn't
fucking want her back, man.

He's had enough. He no longer digs her.
It's all a show.

Okay, but then why doesn't he give a shit
about his million bucks?

I mean, he knows we never
handed off his briefcase,

but he never asked
for it back.

The million bucks
was never in the briefcase.

The briefcase was
fucking empty, man.

The asshole was hoping
that they would kill her.

You threw out a ringer
for a ringer.

Okay, but how does all this
add up to an emergency?

I'm saying, I see what you're
getting at, Dude. He kept the money.

My point is...

Here we are, it's shabbos,
the Sabbath,

which I'm allowed to break
only if it's a matter of life or death.

Will you come off it, Walter?
You're not even fucking Jewish, man.

What the fuck are
you talking about?

Man, you're fucking
Polish Catholic!

What the fuck
are you talking about?

I converted when I married Cynthia.
Come on, Dude.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
- You know this.

And five fucking years ago,
you were divorced.

So what are you saying?
When you get divorced,

you turn in your library card?
You get a new license?

- You stop being Jewish?
- This is the driveway.

- Jewish as fucking Tevye.
- Man.

You know, it's all a part
of your sick Cynthia thing.

Man, taking care of her fucking dog,
going to her fucking synagogue.

You're living in
the fucking past.

Three thousand years of beautiful tradition,
from Moses to Sandy Koufax.

You're goddamn right
I'm living in the fucking past!

I've... Jesus.

What the hell happened?

Let's go. Fuck it.

Where was she, man?

Visiting friends of hers
in Palm Springs.

She just picked up and left,
never bothered to tell us.

Well, I guess the fucking nihilists
knew where she was.

Jesus, Dude. She never
even kidnapped herself.

- Who is this gentleman, Dude?
- Who am I? I'm a fucking veteran.

- Come on!
- That's who I am.

You shouldn't go in there, Dude.
He's very angry.

So, man.

So? She's back,
no thanks to you.

Where's the fucking money,
Lebowski?

A million bucks from fucking, needy,
little Urban Achievers!

You are scum, man!

- Who the hell is he?
- Who am I? Who am I?

- Walter.
- I'm the guy that's gonna kick your phony,

- gold-bricking ass, that's who I am.
- Man.

We know the briefcase
was fucking empty.

We know you kept
the million bucks for yourself.

You have your story,
I have mine.

I say I entrusted the money
to you and you stole it.

As if we would ever dream of taking
your bullshit money!

You thought that Bunny
had been kidnapped,

and you were
fucking glad, man.

You could use it as an excuse
to make some money disappear.

All you needed was a sap to pin it on.
You just met me.

You... You human paraquat.

You figured, oh, here's a loser,
you know, a deadbeat.

Somebody this square community
won't give a shit about.

Well, aren't you?

- Well, yeah, but...
- Get out, both of you.

Look at that fucking phony, Dude,
pretending to be a fucking millionaire.

Out of this house now,
you bums!

Let me tell you
something else.

I've seen a lot of spinals, Dude,
and this guy's a fake.

- A fucking gold-bricker.
- Stay away from me, mister!

This guy fucking walks.

I've never been more certain
of anything in my life.

You stay away from me!

Walter, for Christ's sake, man!
He's a cripple.

- I said! Get away from me!
- Come on. Come on.

Walter, put him down, man!

Yeah, I'll put him down, Dude.
Walk! Achtung, baby!

Come on, man. Help me
put him back in his chair.

At least they had the fucking
decency to tell us

that we were fighting
the communists.

Whereas this whole fucking thing,
this whole fucking thing

is nothing about nothing,
about oil,

which is what I personally
hear, Dude.

Sure you'll see
some tank battles,

but fighting in desert is very different
from fighting in canopy jungle.

I mean, Nam was a foot soldier's war,
whereas this thing should...

You know, should be
a piece of cake.

I mean, I had an M16, Jacko,
not an Abrams fucking tank.

- Me and Charlie, eyeball to eyeball.
- Yeah.

That's fucking combat.

The man in the black
pajamas, Dude.

Worthy fucking adversary.

- Who's in pajamas, Walter?
- Shut the fuck up, Donny.

Whereas what we have here,

a bunch of fig eaters
wearing towels on their head,

trying to find reverse
on a Soviet tank.

- This is not a worthy fucking adversary.
- Hey!

What's this
day-of-rest shit?

What's this bullshit?

I don't fucking care!
It don't matter to Jesus.

But you not fooling me, man.

You might fool the fucks
in the league office

but you don't fool Jesus.

It's Bush league
psych-out stuff.

Laughable, man!

I would've fucked you
in the ass Saturday.

I'll fuck you in the ass
next Wednesday instead.

You got a date
Wednesday, baby!

He's cracking.

The whole concept of age.

I mean, many learned men
have disputed this

but in the 14th century,
the Rambam...

Well, they finally did it.

They killed
my fucking car.

We want the money,
Lebowski.

Ja. Otherwise,
we kill the girl.

Ja. It seems you have forgotten
our little deal, Lebowski.

You don't have the
fucking girl, dipshit.

We know you never did.

Are these the Nazis, Walter?

No, Donny.
These men are nihilists.

There's nothing
to be afraid of.

We don't care.

We still want the money,
Lebowski, or we fuck you up.

- Fuck you. Fuck the three of you.
- Cool it, Walter.

No. Without a hostage,
there is no ransom.

That's what ransom is.
Those are the fucking rules.

His girlfriend
gave up her toe.

She thought we could
get $1 million.

- It's not fair.
- Fair?

Who's the fucking nihilists around here,
you bunch of fucking crybabies?

Cool it, Walter.
Hey, look, pal.

There never
was any money.

The big Lebowski gave me
an empty briefcase,

so take it up with him, man.

And I would like
my undies back.

Are these guys gonna
hurt us, Walter?

No, Donny.
These men are cowards.

Okay!

So we takes the money you have
on you, and we calls it even.

- Fuck you.
- Hey, no. Come on, Walter.

Come on, we're ending
this thing cheap, man.

- No. What's mine is mine.
- No, come on, Walter.

- No funny stuff.
- All right. All right.

- No funny stuff.
- I got 4 bucks, almost 5.

- I got $18.
- What's mine is mine.

We fuck you up, man!
We takes the money!

Come and get it.

- We fuck you up!
- Show me what you got, nihilists.

- I fuck you!
- Walter, come on. He's got a sword.

Fucking dipshit with
a nine-toed woman!

I fuck you! Fuck you!
I fuck you!

- Take it easy, man.
- I fuck you!

- Take the $4.
- I fuck you!

I fuck you!

I'm gonna hit you with
the fucking ball, man.

- Hey, dickhead!
- Anti-Semite.

I fuck you in the ass!
I fuck you in the ass!

I fuck you! I fuck you!

I fuck you! I fuck you!

We got a man down, Dude!

Oh, God. They shot him, man.

- He's not shot. No, Dude.
- Are you shot, Donny?

There weren't
any shots fired.

It's a heart attack.
Call the medics, Dude.

I'd go myself, but I'm pumping blood,
might pass out.

Rest easy, good buddy.
You're doing fine.

We got help choppering in.

Hello, gentlemen.

- You are the bereaved?
- Yeah, man.

Francis Donnelly,
pleased to meet you.

- Jeff Lebowski.
- Walter Sobchak.

The Dude actually is...

- Excuse me?
- Oh, nothing.

Yes. I understand you're taking
away the remains?

Yeah.

We have the urn.

I assume this is credit card?

Yeah.

What's this?

Now, that's for the urn.

Don't need it.
We're scattering the ashes.

Yes. So we were informed.

However, we must, of course,
transmit the remains to you

in a receptacle.

That's $180.

It is our most modestly
priced receptacle.

- Well, can't we just...
- $180?

They range up to $3,000.

- We're...
- Can't we just rent it from you, you know?

Sir, this is a mortuary
not a rental house.

- We're scattering the fucking ashes!
- Walter, Walter.

Just because we're bereaved
doesn't make us saps.

Sir, please lower
your voices.

Man, don't you have, you know,
something else we can put him in?

You know?

That is our most modestly
priced receptacle.

God damn it!

Is there a Ralph's
around here?

Donny was a good bowler
and a good man.

He was one of us.

He was a man who loved
the outdoors and bowling.

And as a surfer he explored the beaches
of Southern California

from La Jolla to Leo Carrillo

and up to Pismo.

He died...

He died as so many young men
of his generation, before his time.

In your wisdom, Lord,
you took him,

as you took so many bright,
flowering young men

at Khe Sanh, at Lan Doc,

at Hill 364.

These young men
gave their lives,

and so did Donny.

Donny, who loved bowling.

And so,

Theodore Donald Kerabatsos,

in accordance with what we think
your dying wishes might well have been,

we commit your final
mortal remains

to the bosom of
the Pacific Ocean

which you loved so well.

Good night, sweet prince.

Shit.

Oh, shit, Dude. I'm sorry.

- Goddamn wind.
- Fuck, god damn it, Walter!

- You fucking asshole!
- Shit, Dude. I'm sorry.

Everything's a fucking
travesty with you, man!

I'm sorry.
It was an accident.

- What was that shit about Vietnam?
- Dude, I'm sorry.

What the fuck does anything
have to do with Vietnam?

- Dude, I'm sorry.
- What the fuck are you talking about?

Dude, I'm sorry.

Fucking...

Fuck, Walter.

Come on, Dude.

Hey, fuck it, man.

Let's go bowling.

- Two oat sodas, Gary.
- Right. Good luck tomorrow.

- Yeah, thanks, man.
- I was sorry to hear about Donny.

Oh, yeah. Well, you know,

sometimes you eat the bear,
and sometimes, you know...

Hey, man.

- How do you do, Dude?
- I wondered if I'd see you again.

I wouldn't miss
the semis.

- Oh, yeah?
- How's things been going?

Well, you know,
strikes and gutters, ups and downs.

- Sure. I got you.
- Yeah.

Thanks, Gary.

Well, take care, man.
Gotta get back.

- Sure. Take it easy, Dude.
- Oh, yeah.

I know that you will.

Yeah. Well,
the Dude abides.

Walter.

The Dude abides.

I don't know about you,
but I take comfort in that.

It's good knowing
he's out there,

the Dude, taking her easy
for all us sinners.

I sure hope
he makes the finals.

Well, that about does her.

Wraps her all up.

Things seem to have worked out
pretty good for the Dude and Walter.

And it was a pretty good story,
don't you think?

Made me laugh
to beat the band.

Parts anyway.

I didn't like seeing Donny go.

But then I happen to know that
there's a little Lebowski on the way.

I guess that's the way
the whole darned human comedy keeps

perpetuating itself

down through the generations.

Westward the wagons,
across the sands of time until we...

Oh, look at me.
I'm rambling again.

Well, I hope you folks
enjoyed yourselves.

Catch you later on
down the trail.

Say, friend, you got any more
of that good sarsaparilla?