Where the Buffalo Roam Page #3

...and Lazlo's arrested, he's in jail.

- I told him that you'd pay for his bail.

- I can't afford it.

- Doesn't matter, he doesn't want it.

- Good.

He said, "Forget the money, but if Marty

could say some sort of personal prayer

"it'd make a big difference. "

No, no, no, don't do this to me, please.

Hell, I'll pray with you.

I can't do this. I can't pray.

Sure you can. Dig deep.

Come on, it's like riding a bicycle.

- I can't pray.

- Come on, come on, come on.

Anybody can.

"Dear God". That'd probably be

a good way to start, something like that.

Dear God, thank you for everything.

- Get Lazlo in there.

- Dear God, thank you for everything,

- and God bless Lazlo too.

- And all the people of the world.

And all the people of the world too.

Let's have it.

- Please, let's have it.

- Do you have the cheque?

You didn't sign this. You gotta sign this.

They won't cash that without your signature.

Glad I caught that.

It's not legal without the signature.

Thanks.

Thank Lazlo.

Well, that finished him

as a lawyer, at least as a working lawyer.

And some of it may have been my fault.

Perhaps I was not the kind of friend in court

Lazlo needed.

But the humour had gone,

there was nothing to be laughed at.

By the time we realised,

it was too late for both of us.

He quit the legal system.

No more polite talking with judges,

or journalists either, for that matter.

He was in a revolution now,

a revolution in acid,

and, boy, it was hard to find people to eat

acid with as the age of Nixon wore on.

Reality was too full of disappointments

for a generation

that grew up too confident to deal with

harsh realities like doom and failure.

A lot of people got off the boat

in those days, but not everybody.

Not Lazlo, not Nixon, not me.

We'd signed on for the whole trip.

Sir.

Hey, sir. Hey, sir!

Hey!

Agh! God!

Is anything wrong?

- Sir, what's wrong?

- My head.

- Your head?

- Who sent you?

- What are you talking about?

- What government agency?

- I think I'd like to find out.

- What are you doing?

- Give me answers!

- What? Yeah, OK.

What? What? What do you want to know?

- Where am I?

- At your hotel, man.

You're at your hotel, honest.

I haven't even caught my plane.

What game is being played here?

No, no, man, you in Los Angeles.

- You've landed right here in Los Angeles.

- Liar!

Check with the hotel,

there's anybody you can ask.

The desk, the bellhop, anybody.

- They really will...

- Wait, you're right.

- OK.

- It's coming back to me now.

- OK.

- I'm here on an assignment.

- Football. Super Bowl.

- Yeah, they're doing that.

You can see the marquee. It's 1972.

The big game, yeah.

Well, sports fans,

there is no burrow for one of these teams.

Brownie?

Yeah, it's Blackie. What's the line?

Nine?

Faffle's got it eight and a half.

F*** it, I'm going the other way.

Yeah. And put me down for a dime.

Nickel defence. On the line of scrimmage.

Goes right, fades left...

One man between him and the goal line.

Dr Thompson, Blast magazine.

Is my suite ready? I need supplies sent up.

They're coming out of the woodwork

for this game. Spter, yeah.

I'm gonna need an IBM Selectric,

heavy duty,

a Xerox telecopier, the 516.

Teleco...

I'm also gonna need one of those

Sony cassettes, big mother, 1800.

- Big mother.

- Lots of white paper. Heavy bond.

- Heavy bond.

- Bic pens, medium point, blue.

Bic. Sir...

Sir, please.

Ow! May as well get the room service order.

- How about three crab Louis?

- Three crab Louis.

- Quart of ice, lots of ice.

- Lots of ice.

Quart of mescal. And 16 grapefruit.

- You getting all this?

- 16 grapefruit.

- Sir, I'm going to need your identification.

- Sure.

Sh*t! Somebody's stolen my wallet.

- I know what I'm doing.

- Sir...

He must be a doctor.

Thank you very much. Really appreciate it.

He's all yours.

Eureka! Nice work.

Back to business.

Two-bedroom suite,

closer to the top the better.

Oh, can you check the electrical outlets?

Gonna need a lot of power.

- 440 volts.

- 440 volts?

- Any problems, check with the magazine.

- Yes, sir.

Thank you.

Front, please?

Not too shabby, huh?

Mr Lewis's office.

May I ask who's calling, please?

Ah, oh, I see. Could you hold on one sec?

It's the hotel manager.

I think it's about Thompson.

Hello.

Yes, Mr Thompson is an employee of mine.

Why don't you just get to the point

and tell me what he wants?

No problem.

What was that last one?

A video recorder and a stereo?

No. That's out.

Tell him I said he doesn't need that.

Don't worry, I'll be checking with him

shortly. But I do appreciate the call.

Thank you.

He became a man...

the day of the greatest game ever played.

Everything he knew about decency and

morality, he learned that day in December

from Alan "the horse" Ameche.

Today in the Super Bowl

he would earn his wings.

A crowd had assembled,

a crowd of America's elite.

Toyota salesmen from around the country,

orientals and those suspected

of being orientals,

stacked on the 30 yard line watching him

sweat and wipe caked blood from his face.

The Gallo brothers, Ernest and Julio,

party guys who'd skinned a few Mexicans

and forced them to carry them on their

shoulders to the pregame tailgate parties.

The Pepsi and Coca-Cola

bottlers of America.

Coke adds life, it's the real thing.

Bombarded by missiles,

flying, flaming matchbook covers.

The waterheads from General Motors

in the top seats, getting the worst pollution.

All sorts of twisted motherfuckers there.

And who could this be?

What?

All right, put him through, but no more

after this. I'm serious, I mean it.

Marty. I just found out

about an incredible story, a bizarre plot.

Washington is trying influence the game. '

- Hunter, please.

- This could have far-reaching implications.

- Soviets could be involved.

- I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of it.

I don't know, this could take a few months,

I could run out of money fast.

Besides, I just got here...

- You just got there?

- Yeah, minutes ago.

You left on Tuesday. Today's Saturday.

You too? The same mix-up

happened to me.

I thought it was Tuesday... Saturday,

everybody was here.

Room service!

I'll check on it. Hold on.

What?

What?

Hold on, somebody's here.

Come on in. Where the hell have you been?

You'll be safe here.

I'm on the phone.

Marty?

- I'm still here.

- Yeah.

I may need some more money.

I'm entertaining in the room and it runs up.

OK, OK, enough.

Sit, sit, seor.

I got people from the consulate here.

What has that to do with the Super Bowl?

- What the hell was that noise?

- What noise?

Get the goddamn tap off the phone!

You think you're playing with children here?

Are you OK now? Good.

I OKed everything you asked for except

the stereo and the video recorder.

- How am I gonna see the game?

- Ever heard of a press box?

Sh*t, then you miss the slow-mos,

the instant replay, all that stuff.

I don't care about any replay.

Thompson, are you hearing me?

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