Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas Page #12

DUKE:

Jesus.

GONZO:

Do it! I want to get HIGHER!

DUKE considers this. He's had enough.

47.

DUKE:

Okay. You're right. This is

probably the only solution.

(holds the PLUGGED IN

TAPE/RADIO over the tub)

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?

GONZO falls back into the water, smiling gratefully.

GONZO:

F*** yes. I was beginning to think

I was going to have to go out and

get one of the goddamn maids to do

it.

DUKE:

Are you ready?

He switches "WHITE RABBIT" back on. GONZO HOWLS AND MOANS

AND THRASHES TO THE MUSIC, straining to get over the top.

Meanwhile, DUKE picks up a grapefruit from the sink -- a

good two-pounder, he gets a grip on it... and when "WHITE

RABBIT" peaks... HE HURLS IT INTO THE TUB LIKE A CANNONBALL.

GONZO SCREAMS CRAZILY, THRASHING AND CHURNING -- CAUSING A

TIDAL WAVE.

DUKE JERKS THE RADIO CABLE OUT OF THE SOCKET -- SLAMS OUT OF

THE BATHROOM.

INT. MINT HOTEL SUITE - NIGHT

DUKE slumps onto the sofa.

SILENCE.

GONZO RIPS OPEN THE BATHROOM DOOR, his eyes unfocused. HE

WAVES THE RAZOR SHARP BLADE out in front of him -- LUNGES at

DUKE. DUKE WHIPS OUT A CAN OF MACE.

DUKE:

MACE! YOU WANT THIS?

GONZO stops -- hisses.

GONZO:

You bastard! You'd do that,

wouldn't you?

48.

DUKE:

(laughs)

Why worry? You'll like it. Nothing

in the world like a Mace high.

Forty-five minutes on your knees

with the dry heaves...

GONZO:

You cheap honky sonofabitch...

DUKE:

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!

GONZO:

The cops?

DUKE:

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!

GONZO:

(mumbles)

Who said anything about slicing you

up? I just wanted to carve a

little Z on your forehead. Nothing

serious.

GONZO shrugs and reaches for a cigarette on top of the TV set.

DUKE:

(menaces him with the MACE)

Get back in that tub. Eat some

reds and try to calm down. Smoke

some grass, shoot some smack --

sh*t, do whatever you have to do,

but let me get some rest.

GONZO turns toward the bathroom -- suddenly sad.

GONZO:

Hell, yes. You really need some

sleep. You have to work. Goddamn.

What a bummer. Try to rest. Don't

let me keep you up.

49.

GONZO shuffles back into the bathroom. DUKE wedges a chair

up against the bathroom doorknob and puts the mace can next

to the clock.

DUKE turns on the TV. WHITE NOISE FILLS THE ROOM. He

collapses onto the sofa and lights up his lightbulb as pipe.

DUKE (V/O)

Ignore the nightmare in the bathroom.

Just another ugly refugee from the

Love Generation.

The WHITE NOISE snow storm on the TV is reflected in his

face. The camera pulls back revealing THE ENTIRE WALL

BEHIND HIM TO BE SWIRLING WITH THE FIZZING SNOWSTORM PATTERN.

DUKE (V/O)

My attorney had never been able to

accept the notion -- often espoused

by former drug abusers -- that you

can get a lot higher without drugs

than with them. And neither have

I, for that matter.

The pattern on the wall changes to A 60'S VISCOUS OIL

LIGHTSHOW PATTERN. With DUKE still sitting in the

foreground, the projected image widens to reveal the interior

of A HAIGHT ASHBURY DANCE HALL full of DANCING PROTO-HIPPIES.

INT. MATRIX CLUB - NIGHT

A slightly YOUNGER DUKE moves through the throng. All the

action is in a DREAMLIKE SLOW-MOTION.

DUKE (V/O)

I recall one night in the Matrix.

There I was -- a victim of the Drug

Explosion. A natural street freak,

just eating whatever came by.

A ROAD-PERSON with a big pack on his back is shouting. The

sound of his voice, like his movements, is in slow-motion.

ROAD-PERSON

Anybody want some L...S...D...? I

got all the makin's right here.

All I need is a place to cook.

The camera pushes right into the ROAD-PERSON's mouth.

INT. MATRIX MEN'S ROOM - NIGHT

Still in slow motion, the YOUNGER DUKE is trying to eat a

HUGE SPANSULE OF ACID. With difficulty.

50.

DUKE (V/O)

I decided to eat only half at first.

Good thinking. But I spilled the

rest on the sleeve of my red

Pendleton shirt.

DUKE stares at his sleeve, uncertain what to do. C/U of the

door to the men's room as a MUSICIAN enters speaking in

slow-motion.

MUSICIAN:

What's the trouble?

DUKE:

(also in slow-motion)

Well, all this white stuff on my

sleeve is LSD.

The MUSICIAN approaches and looks down at DUKE'S arm. A

long pause.

Cut back to tight shot of door as it opens and a very clean-

cut, PREPPY, STOCKBROKER TYPE enters. He freezes in horror.

We cut to his POV. DUKE is standing in the middle of the

men's room with the MUSICIAN hunkered down at his side...

sucking on his sleeve. A very gross tableau. The

STOCKBROKER slowly eases out of the room.

DUKE (V/O)

With a bit of luck his life was

ruined -- forever thinking that

just behind some narrow door in all

his favorite bars, men in red

Pendleton shirts are getting

incredible kicks from things he'll

never know.

INT. A BAR - YEARS LATER - NIGHT

The STOCKBROKER LOOKING CONSIDERABLY OLDER sits looking

lost, confused, a nervous wreck. The image flares out in a

TV white noise snowstorm.

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