This watch was on your Daddy's wrist when his plane was shot down over Hanoi. He was captured and put in a North Vietnamese prison camp. Now he knew if the gooks ever saw the watch it'd be confiscated. Taken away. The way your Daddy looked at it, this watch was your birthright. He'd be damned if any slopeheads were gonna put their greasy yella hands on his boy's birthright. So he hid it, in the one place he knew he could hide something: his ass. Five long years he wore this watch, up his ass. Then, just before he died of dysentery, he gave me the watch. I hid this uncomfortable hunk of metal up my ass for two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family. And now, little man, I give the watch to you.
Christopher Walken, Pulp Fiction
Christopher Walken, Pulp Fiction