never mind. it's your turn to drive.
one toke. you poor fool. wait till you see those goddamn bats.
we can't stop here - this is bat country!
is that right? well, i guess you're about ready, eh?
no more of that talk or i'll put the leeches on you.
jesus! did i say that?
can you hear me?
that's good. because i want you to have all the background. this is a very ominous assignment -- with overtones of extreme personal danger. i'm a doctor of journalism! this is important, goddamnit! this is a true story!.  (whacks the back of
i want you to understand that this man at the wheel is my attorney! he's not just some dingbat i found on the strip. he's a foreigner. i think he's probably samoan. but it doesn't matter, does it? are you prejudiced?
i didn't think so. because in spite of his race, this man is extremely valuable to me. hell, i forgot all about this beer. you want one? how about some ether?
never mind. let's get right to the heart of this thing. twenty-four hours ago we were sitting in the pogo lounge of the beverly wills hotel.
i'm telling you, the salazar story is getting too complicated. the weasels have started closing in.
uh-huh.  uh-huh.  uh-huh.
why not? if a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing right.
i tell you, my man. this is the american dream in action! we'd be fools not to ride this strange torpedo all the way to the end.
the mint 400! the richest off-road race for motorcycles and dune- buggies in the history of organized sport! -- a fantastic spectacle in honor of some fatback grossero who owns the luxurious mint hotel in the heart of downtown vegas.  at least that's what the press release says.
we're going to have to drum it up on our own. pure gonzo journalism.
don't take any guff from these swine. now we need a sound store with the finest equipment. nothing dinky. one of those new belgian heliowatts with a voice-activated shotgun mike, for picking up conversations in oncoming cars.
we will. you samoans are all the same. you have no faith in the essential decency of the white man's culture.
of course.
no harm done. i always test the transmission that way. the rear end. for stress factors.
not me. we're responsible people.
and we're chock full of that!
my attorney understands this concept, despite his racial handicap. but do you?!
the medicine? yes, it's right here.
don't worry, this man has a bad heart.  angina pectoris. but we have a cure for it.
you scurvy shyster bastard! watch your language! you're talking to a doctor of journalism!
pay no attention to this swine. he can't handle the medicine.
and eat them! that bastard won't get away with this! what's going on in this country when a scum sucker like that can get away with sandbagging a doctor of journalism?
wait a minute! come back and have a beer!
move over!! we have to get out of california before that kid finds a cop!
god didn't do that! you did it! you're a fucking narcotics agent, that was our cocaine, you pig!
you whore!
how long do i have?
i need this, right?
hi there. my name.  ah, raoul duke.  on.  on that list, that's for sure. free lunch, final wisdom, total coverage.  why not? i have my attorney with me, and i
no! why? we haven't done anything yet!
lacerda?
order some golf shoes. otherwise, we'll never get out of this place alive. it's impossible to walk in this muck -- no footing at all.
but what about our room? and the golf shoes?
holy shit! look at that bunch over there! they've spotted us!
no, no. don't leave me!
there's a big.  machine in the sky.  some kind of electric snake.
 coming straight at us.
not yet. i want to study its habits.
what are you talking about?
oh my god! who's that?!
that's good.
they'll probably have a big net for us when we show up.
see"kill the body and the head will die".  the frazier. ali fight.
and both kennedy's murdered by mutants.
beer!
more like sunday.
hell yes! bring us ten!
lunatics.
beats me. we're just good patriotic americans like yourself.
the sporting press. we're friendlies. hired geeks.
if you want a good chase, you should get after that skunk from cbs news up ahead in the black jeep. he's the man responsible for that book, the selling of the pentagon.
take me back to the pits.
you're fired.
turn up the radio! turn up the tape machine! roll the windows down. let's taste this cool desert wind! aaah, yes! this is what it's all about!
look, what are we doing here? are we here to entertain ourselves, or to do the job?
why?
why should i pay out my hard-earned dollars to watch a fucking corpse. i don't know about you, but in my line of business it's important to be hep.
why not? is this not a reasonable place to park?
holy shit! they almost had us there! that was quick thinking.
did the mescaline just kick in? or was that debbie reynolds in a silver afro wig?!
we wandered into a fucking time capsule!
this is the place. they'll never fuck with us here.
dogs fucked the pope, no fault of mine. watch out!.  why money? my name is brinks; i was born.  born?
nonsense. we came here to find the american dream, and now we're right in the vortex you want to quit. you must realize that we've found the main nerve.
look over there. two women fucking a polar bear.
not much. why?
go?
calm down. you'll be straight in a few hours.
ok. i'll lend you some money. let's go outside and see how much we have left.
that depends on how many people we fuck with between here and the door.
ok. lets pay this bill and get up very slowly. it's going to be a long walk.
he's just kidding. come on, doc -- lets go downstairs and gamble.
it won't stop. it's not ever going to stop.
don't move you'll come around.
you fell. let's go.
ok. you stay here and go to jail. i'm leaving.
probably the bartender. he wanted to stomp you for what you said to the waitress.
don't go near that elevator. that's just what they want us to do.  trap us in a steel box and take us down to the basement.
don't run. they'd like any excuse to shoot us.
that's lacerda's room.
what for?
no, we should leave the poor bastard alone. i get the feeling that he's avoiding us for some reason.
he told me he was turning in early.
that little blonde groupie with the film crew? you think he sodomized her?
where'd you get that knife?
what limes?
the vincent black shadow. we're with the factory team.
look you better put that blade away and get your head straight. i have to put the car in the lot.
you bastards!
you ate all this acid?
you evil son of a bitch. you better hope there's some thorazine in that bag, because if there's not, you're in bad trouble.
what tape?
you're doomed. i'm leaving here in two hours and then they're going to come up here and beat the mortal shit out of you with big saps. right there in that tub.
ok. but do me one last favor, will you. can you give me two hours? that's all i ask -- just two hours to sleep before tomorrow. i suspect it's going to be a very difficult day.
how about a check?
shit, he's killing himself!
don't touch it! get back in that tub!
not me. it would blast you through the wall -- stone dead in ten seconds and they'd make me explain it!
jesus.
okay. you're right. this is probably the only solution. let me make sure i have it all lined up. you want me to throw this thing into the tub when "white rabbit" peaks. is that it?
are you ready?
mace! you want this?
why worry? you'll like it. nothing in the world like a mace high. forty-five minutes on your knees with the dry heaves.
why not? hell, just a minute ago, you were asking me to kill you! and now you want to kill me! what i should do, goddamnit, is call the police!
there's no choice. i wouldn't dare go to sleep with you wandering around with a head full of acid and wanting to slice me up with that goddamn knife!
get back in that tub. eat some reds and try to calm down. smoke some grass, shoot some smack -- shit, do whatever you have to do, but let me get some rest.
well, all this white stuff on my sleeve is lsd.
how would horatio alger have handled this situation?
well, why not? many fine books have been written in prison.
yes.  it makes sense.
he is. don't worry, i'll get it to him.
you did the right thing. never try to understand a press message. about half the time we use codes -- especially with dr. gonzo.
awake? what do you mean?
of course. but if i were you, i'd leave the doctor alone until after he's eaten breakfast. he's a very crude man.
look. that telegram was all scrambled. it was actually from thompson, not to him. western union must have gotten the names reversed. i have to get going. i have to get out to the track.
not for me.
righto!
do me one last favor lord: just give me five more high-speed hours before you bring the hammer down; just let me get rid of this goddamn car and off of this horrible desert.
you evil bastard! this is your work! you'd better take care of me, lord.  because if you don't you're going to have me on your hands.
of course, officer.
why not? it was getting warm anyway.
yeah. i know. i'm guilty. i understand that. i knew it was a crime but i did it anyway. shit, why argue? i'm a fucking criminal.
a nap won't help. i've been awake for too long -- three or four nights. i can't even remember. if i go to sleep now, i'm dead for twenty hours.
how far is baker? i was hoping to stop there for lunch.
i'll try. i've been wanting to go to baker for a long time. i've heard a lot about it.
great jesus, it's him.
they've nailed me! i'm trapped in some stinking desert crossroads called baker. i don't have much time. the fuckers are closing in. they'll hunt me down like a beast!
you bastard! i need a lawyer immediately!
what? fuck telegrams. i'm in trouble. you worthless bastard. i'll cripple your ass for this! all that shit in the car is yours! you understand that? when i finish testifying out here you'll be disbarred!
never mind. it's all a big joke. i'm actually sitting beside the pool at the flamingo. i'm talking from a portable phone. some dwarf brought it out from the casino. i have total credit! can you grasp that? don't come anywhere near this place! foreigners aren't welcome here!
say. i hate to interrupt, but i wonder if maybe i could just sort of slide through and get out of your way. name's raoul duke -- raoul duke. my attorney made the reservation.
my bags are out there in that white cadillac convertible. can you have someone drive it around to the room?
oh, and could i get a quart of wild turkey, two fifths of baccardi, and a night's worth of ice delivered to my room, please?
well, thank you.
ah, home at last!
you degenerate pig!
well, i guess they brought the car round by now. let's get the stuff
well? what are your plans?
lucy.
well.  it'll probably work out. we can keep her loaded and peddle her ass at the drug convention.
she's perfect for this gig. these cops will go fifty bucks a head to beat her into submission and then gang fuck her. we can set her up in one of these back street motels, hang pictures of jesus all over the room, then turn these pigs loose on her.  hell she's strong; she'll hold her own.
it's straight economics. this girl is a god-send. shit, she can make us a grand a day.
i figure she can do about four at a time. christ, if we keep her full of acid that's more like two grand a day. maybe three.
in a few hours, she'll probably be sane enough to work herself into a towering jesus-based rage at the hazy recollection of being seduced by some kind of cruel samoan who fed her liquor and lsd, dragged her to a vegas hotel room and savagely penetrated every orifice in her body with his throbbing, uncircumcised member.
you'll go straight to the gas chamber. and even if you manage to beat that, they'll send you back to nevada for rape and consensual sodomy. she's got to go.
what?.  what kind of goddamn monster are you?
us?
hotel americana? i need a reservation. for my niece. listen, i need her treated very gently. she's an artist, and might seem a trifle highstrung.
that's good. you can't be subtle in this town.
maybe we should take it easy tonight.
come on, we're going to be late.
they're actually nice people when you get to know them.
don't mention that word around here. you'll get them excited.
right. sure as hell some dope- dealing bomb freak is going to recognize you and put the word out that you're partying with a thousand cops.
pardon me, i feel sick.
sorry, sick.  beg pardon! feeling sick.
rum and ice, please.
they're everywhere. nobody's safe. and sure as hell not in the south. they like warm weather.  you'd never believe it. in l.a. it's out of control. first it was drugs, now it's witchcraft.
man, you don't know trouble until you have to face down a bunch of these addicts gone crazy for human sacrifice!
not where we operate.
just the other day we had a case where they grabbed a girl right out of a mcdonald's hamburger stand. she was a waitress, about sixteen years old.  with a lot of people watching, too!
what could they do? the guy that took the head was about six-seven, and maybe three-hundred pounds. he was packing two lugers, and the others had m-16s.
like big lizards.
naked.
they were all veterans.
usually, it's whole families. during the night. most of them don't even wake up until they feel their heads going -- and then, of course, it's too late.
happens every day.
three more rums. plenty of ice. maybe a handful of lime chunks.
what's wrong with you? hell, somebody has to do it.
cut their goddamn heads off. every one of them. that's what we're doing in california.
we keep it quiet. it's not the kind of thing you'd want to talk about upstairs. not with the press around.
dobermans don't talk.
they'll fight like hell if you try to take the head without the dogs.
just be thankful your heart is young and strong.
what's the message? my light is blinking.
holy shit!
lucy called.
what? what was that crazy bitch said to him? there's a war on, man! people are being killed!
in vietnam! on the goddamn television!
tell me. what do you want?
crying? why was she crying?
look, you want to be gentle with that woman if she ever calls again. we're watching her very carefully.  this woman has been into laudanum. it's a controlled experiment, but i suspect we'll need your cooperation before this thing is over.
don't worry. you're protected. just treat this poor woman like you'd treat any other human being in trouble.
of course. and now i have to get back to the news. send up some ice.
lucy is looking for you.
me?
it's gone too far.
what is this?
adrenochrome.
where'd you get this?
jesus.  what kind of monster client have you picked up this time? there's only one source for this stuff -- the adrenaline gland from a living human body!
why not? we should get some of that. just eat a big handful and see what happens.
extract of pineal!
right!
yes!
fantastic!
finish the fucking story! what happened?! what about the glands?
maybe you could just.  shove me into the pool, or something.
you're under arrest!
what made you do it? who paid you off?
the dope ring. you must know what's going on in this hotel. why do you think we're here?
maybe she's telling the truth. maybe she's not part of it.
so do we, lady.
do you think you can handle it?
you're damn right. but the first time you say anything about this, to anybody -- you'll go straight to prison for the rest of your life. what's your name?
inspector rock will pay you. in cash. a thousand dollars on the ninth of every month.
the password is: "one hand washes the other." the minute you hear that, you say "i fear nothing."
sure is.
any of you folks want the milk? we're after the meat. this is honest coconut essence. real meat.
yeh.  this foreign made crap -- is sucking our dollar balance dry!
you poor fools don't understand, do you? this car is the property of the world bank! that money goes to italy!
this crowd is not rational. they can't relate to us. let's go!
you people voted for hubert humphrey! you killed jesus!
the manager told me a story about the owner of this place. about how he always wanted to run away and join the circus when he was a kid. well, now the bastard has his own circus, and a license to steal, too.
absolutely! pure horatio alger.  say.
they beat the shit out of it.
yeah, something's wrong with the motor.
no, no. shit.
goddamnit! what's the bail? i want that ape! i've already reserved two first-class seats on the plane.
back door beauty!
what was that?
never missed a plane yet.
i'll drop you right next to the plane.
ridiculous! just say you were hitchhiking to the airport and i picked you up. you never saw me before. shit, this town is full of white cadillac convertibles. i plan to go through there so fast that nobody will even glimpse the goddamn license plate. you ready?
hey!
don't take any guff from those swine. remember, if you have any trouble you can always send a telegram to the right people.
we are all wired into a survival trip now. no more of the speed that fueled that 60's. that was the fatal flaw in tim leary's trip. he crashed around america selling "consciousness expansion" without ever giving a thought to the grim meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all the people who took him seriously.
all those pathetically eager acid freaks who thought they could buy peace and understanding for three bucks a hit. but their loss and failure is ours too. what leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole life-style that he helped create.
 a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old-mystic fallacy of the acid culture: the desperate assumption that somebody.  or at least some force -- is tending the light at the end of the tunnel.
ahhh. wonderful.
ballantine ale?
hard to find it served like this anymore.
las vegas.
i know. i'm a triple scorpio.
oh, my god!.
don't worry.  .  and i'm actually the district attorney from ignoto county. just another good american like yourself.
holy shit!!!
god's mercy on you swine!