Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas Page #16

EXT. FLAMINGO HOTEL - AFTERNOON

A GIANT SIGN:
THE FLAMINGO WELCOMES THE NATIONAL DA'S

CONFERENCE ON NARCOTICS & DANGEROUS DRUGS.

DUKE (V/O)

If the Pigs were gathering in

Vegas, I felt the Drug Culture

should be represented as well...

and there was a certain bent appeal

in the notion of running a savage

burn on one Las Vegas hotel and

then just wheeling across town and

checking into another.

The WHITE WHALE turns into a VIP parking slot, immediately

attended by impressed MINIONS.

DUKE (V/O)

Me and a thousand ranking cops from

all over America. Why not? Move

confidently into their midst.

INT. FLAMINGO HOTEL LOBBY - AFTERNOON

DUKE enters -- old Levis, grubby sneakers, 10 peso Acapulco

shirt coming apart at the seams, 3 day growth, eyes hidden

behind mirror shades. He heads for the check-in line.

64.

DUKE (V/O)

My arrival was badly timed.

THE PLACE IS FULL OF COPS. 200 of them, on vacation, all

dressed in cut price Vegas casuals: plaid Bermuda shorts,

Arnie Palmer golf shirts, and rubberized beach sandals.

Ahead of DUKE -- A POLICE CHIEF argues with the DESK CLERK.

The POLICE CHIEF'S AGNEW STYLE WIFE stands to the side,

weeping. The POLICE CHIEF'S FRIENDS stand uneasily around.

POLICE CHIEF:

What do you mean I'm too late to

register? I'm a police chief.

From Michigan. Look, fella, I told

you.

(waves a POSTCARD)

I have a postcard here that says I

have reservations in this hotel.

CLERK:

(prissily)

I'm sorry, sir. You're on the

"late list." Your reservations were

transferred to the... ah...

Moonlight Motel, which is out on

Paradise Boulevard...

POLICE CHIEF:

I've already paid for my goddamn

room!

CLERK:

It's actually a very fine place of

lodging and only sixteen blocks

from here, with its own pool and...

POLICE CHIEF:

You dirty little f*ggot! Call the

manager! I'm tired of listening to

this dogshit!

FRIENDS restrain the POLICE CHIEF.

CLERK:

(solicitously)

I'm so sorry, sir. May I call you

a cab?

The POLICE CHIEF's screamed insults fade away...

DUKE (V/O)

Of course, I could hear what the

Clerk was really saying...

65.

CLERK:

(IN DUKE'S IMAGINATION)

Listen, you fuzzy little shithead --

I've been f***ed around, in my

time, by a fairly good cross-

section of mean-tempered rule-crazy

cops and now it's MY turn. "F***

you, officer, I'm in charge here,

and I'm telling you we don't have

room for you."

DUKE steps to the desk, around the raging POLICE CHIEF.

DUKE:

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.

DUKE snaps a credit card down onto the counter. EVERYONE

goes silent. The POLICE CHIEF GROUP stares at him like he

was some kid of water rat crawling up to the desk. The

CLERK hits the bell for the BELLBOY.

CLERK:

Certainly, Mr. Duke!

DUKE:

My bags are out there in that white

Cadillac convertible. Can you have

someone drive it around to the room?

ALL EYES turn to the gleaming WHITE WHALE.

DUKE:

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?

CLERK:

Don't worry about a thing, sir.

Just enjoy your stay.

DUKE:

Well, thank you.

DUKE gives the POLICE CHIEF a polite smile -- crosses to the

elevator -- turns to face the GAWPING COPS -- pops a can of

beer and toasts them. The doors close.

66.

INT. HOTEL FLAMINGO - CORRIDOR OUTSIDE SUITE - DAY

DUKE rams the key home -- swings the door open.

DUKE:

Ah, home at last!

INT. HOTEL FLAMINGO SUITE - AFTERNOON

DUKE enters. The door hits something with a thud.

A 16-year-old GIRL with the aura of an angry Pit Bull.

GONZO stands in the bathroom doorway -- stark naked with a

drug-addled grin on his face.

DUKE:

You degenerate pig!

GONZO:

It can't be helped. This is Lucy.

(laughing distractedly)

You know--like "Lucy In The Sky

With Diamonds."

LUCY eyes DUKE venomously.

GONZO:

Lucy! Lucy, be cool, goddamnit!

Remember what happened at the

airport! No more of that, okay?

LUCY keeps her eyes on DUKE. GONZO idles over and puts his

arm round her shoulder.

GONZO:

Lucy... this is my client. This is

Mr. Duke, the famous journalist.

He's paying for this suite, Lucy.

He's on our side.

DUKE flops onto the sofa.

GONZO:

Mr. Duke is my friend. He loves

artists.

DUKE notices for the first time that the room is full of

artwork. Maybe 40 or 50 portraits, some in oil, some in

charcoal, all more or less the same size and same face.

GONZO:

Lucy paints portraits of Barbra

Streisand.

67.

LUCY:

I drew these from TV.

GONZO:

Fantastic. She came all the way

down here from Montana just to give

these portraits to Barbra. We're

going over to the Americana Hotel

tonight to meet her backstage...

DUKE's voice rises above GONZO.

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