Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas Page #2

GONZO sings along to the tape player.

The HITCHHIKER's eyes go to the door - considers jumping out

and taking his chances.

DUKE, sweating bullets, STARES AT THE HITCHHIKER in the rear

view mirror.

DUKE (V/O)

How long could we maintain, I

wondered. How long before one of

us starts raving and jabbering at

this boy? What will he think then?

This same lonely desert was the

last known home of the Manson family.

The HITCHHIKER's eyes notice a thin line of blood trickling

down GONZO's neck.

DUKE (V/O)

Would he make that grim connection

when my attorney starts screaming

about bats and huge manta rays

coming down on the car?

DUKE's mouth moves intermittently - sometimes in sync with

the words, sometimes not.

DUKE (V/O)

If so - well, we'll just have to

cut his head off and bury him

somewhere. Because it goes without

saying that we can't turn him loose.

He'd report us at once to some kind

of outback Nazi law enforcement

agency, and they'll run us down

like dogs...

DUKE:

(out loud to himself)

Jesus! Did I say that?

DUKE (V/O)

Or just think it? Was I talking?

Did they hear me?

GONZO:

(reassuringly to HITCHHIKER)

It's okay. He's admiring the shape

of your skull.

DUKE gives the HITCHHIKER a FINE BIG GRIN and the HITCHHIKER

giggles nervously.

6.

DUKE (V/O)

Maybe I better have a chat with

this boy I thought. Perhaps if I

explain things, he'll rest easy...

DUKE:

(roaring over the

road noise)

THERE'S ONE THING YOU SHOULD

PROBABLY UNDERSTAND --

The HITCHHIKER stares at him, not blinking.

DUKE:

(yells)

CAN YOU HEAR ME?

The HITCHHIKER nods -- giggles -- terrified. DUKE climbs

into the back seat.

DUKE:

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

THE DRIVER'S SEAT

with his fist)

The CAR SWERVES SICKENINGLY, then straightens out.

GONZO:

(screams)

Keep your hands off my f***ing neck!

The HITCHHIKER makes a sudden lunge for freedom. DUKE GRABS

HIM BACK DOWN.

DUKE (V/O)

Our vibrations were getting nasty --

but why? Was there no communication

in this car? Had we deteriorated

to the level of dumb beasts?

The HITCHHIKER STRUGGLES IN PANIC.

7.

DUKE:

(to HITCHHIKER)

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?

HITCHHIKER:

Hell, no!

DUKE:

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?

(HITCHHIKER shakes

his head)

How about some ether?

HITCHHIKER:

What?

DUKE:

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...

INT. THE BEVERLY WILLS HOTEL POGO LOUNGE 1971 - DAY

A uniformed DWARF, carries a shockingly PINK TELEPHONE

through the glittering, tranquil POGO LOUNGE CROWD. They

are the ELOI. HENDRIX AFROS and DROOPING MUSTACHES and BELL

BOTTOMS and LOVE BEADS and BELLS. ACTRESSES sip Singapore

Slings and PROMOTERS sip ACTRESSES in this MONIED, SANITISED

VERSION OF THE GREAT REVOLUTION YEARS.

DUKE (V/O)

... in the patio section, of

course, drinking Singapore Slings

with mescal on the side, hiding

from the brutish realities of this

foul year of Our Lord, 1971.

The DWARF reaches DUKE -- T-shirt, levis, sneakers and

shades. GONZO -- white rayon bellbottoms and a khaki tank

top undershirt. They are in the middle of a serious

conversation.

8.

DUKE:

I'm telling you, the Salazar story

is getting too complicated. The

weasels have started closing in.

The DWARF sneers.

DWARF:

Perhaps this is the call you've

been waiting for all this time,

sir...

DUKE lifts the receiver -- listens...

DUKE:

Uh-huh... Uh-huh... Uh-huh...

DUKE hangs up the PHONE with the DEAD-PAN EXPRESSION OF A

MOVIE SPY.

DWARF:

That was headquarters. They want

me to go to Las Vegas at once and

make contact with a Portuguese

photographer named Lacerda. He'll

have the details. All I have to do

is check into my sound proof suite

and he'll seek me out.

GONZO, says nothing for a moment, then POUNDS the table!

GONZO:

God hell! I think I see the

pattern! This one sounds like real

trouble! You're going to need

plenty of legal advice before this

thing is over. As your attorney I

must advise you that you'll need a

very fast car with no top and after

that, the cocaine. And then the

tape recorder, for special music,

and some Acapulco shirts...

(GONZO tucks his

khaki undershirt into

his white

bellbottoms -- he

means business!)

This blows my weekend, because

naturally I'll have to go with

you -- and we'll have to arm

ourselves.

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