FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS
-- 3RD DRAFT --
SCREENPLAY BY ALEX COX & TOD DAVIES
BASED ON THE BOOK BY HUNTER S. THOMPSON
BLACK SCREEN
Roll Credits.
Title: "HE WHO MAKES A BEAST OF
HIMSELF GETS RID OF THE
PAIN OF BEING A MAN."
-- DR. JOHNSON
The VOICE OF RAOUL DUKE is heard.
DUKE VOICEOVER
We were somewhere around Barstow
on the edge of the desert when the
drugs began to take hold.
WHOOSH. The BLACK SCREEN gets wiped away by the WHITE
DESERT and the RED CHEVY CONVERTIBLE that races down the
highway at a hundred miles an hour....
Leaving behind it nothing but the DESERT.
ON THE ROAD TO LAS VEGAS EXT DAY
Following the RED CONVERTIBLE.
The convertible, top down, plows forward manically like a
RED SHARK slicing through bloody water.
AT THE WHEEL
RAOUL DUKE, a.k.a. HUNTER S. THOMPSON, skeletal, bald,
sunglassed, beer in hand.
Beside him, turning the music up, up, UP, DR. GONZO (real
name withheld)--swarthy, stocky, firebreathing bull. He
wears ONE BLACK GLOVE.
DUKE V/O
I remember saying something like:
"I feel a bit lightheaded. Maybe
you should drive..."
But in the car, nothing is said. DUKE stares straight
ahead.
Oblivious to the bloody NICKS this procedure has left
behind.
DUKE V/O
Suddenly there was a terrible roar
all around us and the sky was full of
what looked like huge bats, all swooping
and screeching and diving around the car.
And my voice screaming: "Holy Jesus!
What are these goddamn animals?"
DUKE continues to look steadily ahead.
DR. GONZO looks lazily at him.
DR. GONZO
Did you say something?
DUKE shakes his head, pulls over with a screech to the side
of the road.
DUKE V/O
No point mentioning those bats, I
thought. The poor bastard will see
them soon enough.
He gets out of the car, goes to the trunk, OPENS it.
IN THE TRUNK -- a heavy drug and drink inventory.
Like a mobile police narcotics lab.
DUKE surveys the cache.
DUKE V/O
We had two bags of grass, seventy-five
pellets of mescaline, five sheets of hight
powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half
full of cocaine, a whole galaxy of multi-
colored uppers, downers, screamers,
laughers....Also a quart of tequila, a
quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint
of raw ether and two dozen amyls.
He scrambles a new selection into a kit bag, grabs another
six-pack of beer, and slams the trunk shut.
DUKE V/O
Not that we needed all that for the
trip, but once you get locked into a
serious drug collection, the tendency
is to push it as far as you can.
DUKE gets into the car and takes off down the road.
AS THE RED SHARK DISAPPEARS INTO THE DISTANCE --
DUKE V/O
The only thing that really worried me
was the ether. There is nothing in the
world more helpless and irresponsible
and depraved than a man in the depths
of an ether binge. And I knew we'd get
into that rotten stuff pretty soon.
Probably at the next gas station.
IN THE RED SHARK
DUKE continues his straightahead drive.
The RADIO NEWS wars with MUSIC from a TAPE RECORDER in the
front seat.
RADIO NEWS
A House Subcommittee report says illegal
drugs killed 160 American GI's last year-
40 of them in Vietnam...Drugs were
suspected, it said, in another 56
military deaths in Asia..."Drug
suppression in Vietnam is almost
completely ineffective," the report
said, "partially because some
presently unknown corrupt officials
in public office are involved..."
DR. GONZO turns the MUSIC up, drowning out the news.
He washes a couple of pills back with a new beer.
DR. GONZO
Man, this is the way to travel.
DUKE
Wait till you see those goddamn bats.
UP AHEAD - AT THE SIDE OF THE DESERTED ROAD
A LONE HITCHHIKER spots them, jumps up and down to get their
attention.
DR. GONZO
Let's give this boy a lift.
DUKE
We can't stop here! This is bat
country!
DR. GONZO grabs the steering wheel. The car swerves to
the shoulder.
DR. GONZO
As your attorney, I advise you
to act normal.
THE RED SHARK SCREECHES TO A GRAVEL SPEWING HALT.
The HITCHHIKER, delighted by his luck, races to the car.
A poor Okie kid with a big grin.
HITCHHIKER
Hot damn! I never rode in
a convertible before!
And he STOPS DEAD. DUKE and DR. GONZO look out at him with
HYPER NORMAL FIXED SMILES.
DUKE
Is that right? Well, I guess
you're about ready, eh?
Somewhat reassured, the HITCHHIKER scrambles into the back
seat. DR. GONZO turns with a strange expression.
DR. GONZO
We're your friends. We're not like
the others.
DUKE
(sharply)
No more of that talk, or I'll put
the leeches on you.
DR. GONZO
Did you know that this same lonely
desert was the last known home of
the Manson family?
The HITCHHIKER considers getting out. Too late. The RED
SHARK roars off down the road.
DOWN THE ROAD
The HITCHHIKER sweats bullets. DR. GONZO sings along to the
tape player. DUKE, also sweating bullets, keeps staring at
the HITCHHIKER in the rearview mirror.
The HITCHHIKER meets his gaze with a weak smile.
DR. GONZO
(reassuringly)
It's okay. He's admiring the
shape of your skull.
DUKE
(roaring over the road noise)
THERE'S ONE THING YOU SHOULD PROBABLY
UNDERSTAND --
The HITCHHIKER stares at him, not blinking, gritting his
teeth.
DUKE
(yells)
CAN YOU HEAR ME?
The HITCHHIKER nods.
DUKE keeps turning around to talk. Dangerous at that speed.
DUKE
That's good. Because I want you
to know that we're on our way to
Las Vegas to find the American Dream.
That's why we rented this car. Can you
grasp that?
(HITCHHIKER nods again)
I want you to have all the background.
(to DR. GONZO)
Here, you drive.
Still babbling intently at the mesmerized HITCHHIKER, DUKE
trades his foot for DR. GONZO's on the accelerator, and
climbs over him. DR. GONZO slides into the driver's seat.
DUKE can now focus on the HITCHHIKER.
DUKE
This is a very ominous assignment--
with overtones of extreme personal
danger.
The HITCHHIKER stares at him, terrified.
DUKE
Now, I don't want you to be afraid.
I'm a Doctor of Journalism, goddamnit!
(WHACKS the BACK OF THE DRIVER'S SEAT
with his fist)
This is important, goddamnit! This
is a true story!
The CAR swerves sickeningly, then straightens out.
DR. GONZO
(screams)
Keep your hands off my fucking neck!
The HITCHHIKER looks as if he's decided to take his chances
jumping. But DUKE grabs him and drags him back down.
DUKE
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. Shit, look at him! He doesn't
look like you or me, right? That's
because 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 --
He waves his hand, meaning to slap DR. GONZO on the thigh,
but hits a SIX PACK instead.
DUKE
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. You see, about
twenty-four hours ago we were sitting
in the Polo Lounge of the Beverly Hills
Hotel --
THE BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL, 1971 EXT DAY
A calm, beautiful, pastel Los Angeles day.
PALM TREES wave dreamily.
DUKE V/O
-- in the patio section, of course.
Under a palm tree.
THE BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL POLO LOUNGE INT DAY
A uniformed DWARF, carrying a PHONE ON A TRAY, makes his way
through the glitteringly well-heeled POLO LOUNGE CROWD.
ACTRESSES with long straight hair and hot pants. Affluent
ROCK PROMOTERS with long fluffy hair and beads.
A PIANIST plays a mild version of "PUFF. THE MAGIC DRAGON."
DUKE V/O
...hiding from the brutish realities
of this foul year of Our Lord, 1971.
ON THE PATIO can be seen DUKE and DR. GONZO,
the latter clad in white rayon bell bottoms and a khaki
undershirt, the former in a frayed Acapulco shirt, levis,
dirty white sneakers, and shades. The table is littered
with glasses and overflowing ashtrays.
Both of them are so drunk, they can hardly speak.
A uniformed DWARF approaches, bearing a pink TELEPHONE on a
silver tray
DWARF
This must be the call you've been
waiting for all this time, sir.
DUKE takes the PHONE, listens. He hangs up. Turns to face
DR. GONZO.
DUKE
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.
DR. GONZO
What kind of story is this?
DUKE
The Mint 400. It's the richest off-
the-road race for motorcycles in the
history of organised sport--a fantastic
spectacle in honor of some fatback
grosserohell! I think I see the pattern!
DR. GONZO stands up, turns around twice in his excitement,
tucks his undershirt into his pants, and POUNDS the table so
hard that glasses fly everywhere.
DR. GONZO
This one sounds like real trouble!
You're going to need plenty of legal
advice before this thing is over. And
my first advice is that you should rent
a very fast car with no top and get the
hell out of L.A. for at least forty-eight
hours.
DUKE rises. They head for the lobby.
DR. GONZO
This blows my weekend, because naturally
I'll have to go with you--and we'll have
to arm ourselves.
DUKE
(nods thoughtfully)
Why not? If a thing like this is worth
doing at all. it's worth doing right.
This is the American Dream in action!
We'd be fools not to ride this strange
torpedo all the way out to the end.
DR. GONZO
Indeed. We must do it.
They march out.
THE BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL EXT DAY
DUKE and DR. GONZO hurry out the door.
DUKE
The first thing we need is drugs, and
a super-sensitive tape recorder.
And some Acapulco shirts.
DR. GONZO
As your attorney I advise you to buy a
motorcycle. How else can you cover a
thing like this righteously?
DUKE
We gotta get hold of a Vincent Black
Shadow.
DR. GONZO
What's that?
DUKE
Fantastic bike. Two thousand cubic
inches. 200 brake-horsepower at 4,000
r.p.m. on a magnesium frame, with
styrofoam seats and a total curb weight
of 200 lbs.
The CAR VALET drives up DUKE's old PINTO - brown paint job,
rusted-out, smashed door panels. The exact opposite of the
VINCENT BLACK SHADOW.
DR. GONZO
You better call New York for some cash.
They get in and take off, muffler dragging on the ground.
POLYNESIAN BAR EXT DAY
The PINTO parked haphazardly outside, a BUNCH OF BRIGHTLY
COLORED SHIRTS hanging in the rear window. An ORGY OF
CONSUMPTION has been unleashed.
DUKE V/O
Getting hold of the drugs and shirts
had been no problem, but the car and
tape recorder were not easy things to
round up at 6:30 on a Friday afternoon
in Hollywood.
POLYNESIAN BAR INT DAY
DR. GONZO yells into a PAYPHONE in a darkly lit corner.
DUKE carries over four Singapore Slings. He tosses the
ornamental parasols into the pot of a plastic rubber plant.
They join many other parasols there.
DR. GONZO
(hand over the PHONE)
Seventeen calls, but I finally
located a car with adequate horsepower
and the proper coloring.
(into PHONE)
Hang onto it. We'll be there in
thirty minutes.
(shouts)
What? OF COURSE the gentleman has
a major credit card! Do you realize
who the fuck you're talking to?
DUKE
(hands him a drink)
Don't take any guff from these swine.
(GONZO slams the PHONE down)
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.
GONZO nods curtly and goes back to working the phone.
POLYNESIAN BAR EXT DAY
DUKE and DR. GONZO emerge from the bar, carrying drinks.
They drive away
DUKE V/O
We made several more calls and finally
located our equipment in a store about
five miles away. It was closed, but the
salesman said he would wait, if we
hurried...
SUNSET BOULEVARD EXT DAY
TRAFFIC JAM. The PINTO caught in it. DUKE honks the horn
as an AMBULANCE lumbers past.
DUKE V/O
But we were delayed en route
when a Stingray in front of us
killed a pedestrian.
DUKE leans on the horn.
SOUND STORE EXT DUSK
A "CLOSED" sign up. DUKE pounds on the door. DR. GONZO's
face is pressed to the window glass.
DUKE V/O
The store was closed by the time we
got there. There were people inside.
but they refused to come to the double-
glass door until we gave it a few belts
and made ourselves clear.
Things turn ugly. TWO SALESMEN holding TIRE IRONS come to
the door. A negotiation goes on through the mail slot.
DUKE V/O
Finally, we managed to negotiate a sale.
The SALESMEN open the door just wide enough to shove the
SQUND EQUIPMENT out, and write down the credit card number
as DUKE holds the card against the glass.
SALESMAN
(through the slot)
Now take that stuff and get the
hell away from here!
DR. GONZO
(shaking his fist)
We'll be back. One of these days I'll
toss a fucking bomb into this place!
I have your name on this sales slip!
I'll find out where you live and burn
your house down!
(mutters)
That'll give him something to think
about.
DUKE tosses the equipment in the PINTO, and they drive away.
DUKE V/O
We had trouble, again, at the car
rental agency.
[PAGE 12 MISSING FROM THE SCREENPLAY]
RUNDOWN BEACH HOUSE EXT NIGHT
DUKE and GONZO ferry drugs into the RED SHARK.
DUKE V/O
We spent the rest of that night
rounding up materials and packing
the car.
They disappear. The RED SHARK glitters in the moonlight.
In the distance, the SOUND of someone SHOUTING as they JUMP
INTO THE SURF.
DUKE V/O
Then we ate some mescaline and went
swimming in the ocean. Somewhere around
dawn we had breakfast in a Malibu coffee
shop --
PASADENA FREEWAY EXT DAY
The RED SHARK drives east.
DUKE V/O
-- then drove very carefully across
town and plunged onto the smog-shrouded
Pasadena Freeway, heading East.
DESERT ROAD EXT DAY
The HITCHHIKER stares, glassy-eyed, at DUKE.
DUKE
Do you understand?
(HITCHHIKER nods)
I know what you're thinking. You're
thinking: "Old elephants limp off to
the hills to die: old Americans go out
to the highway and drive themselves to
death with huge cars."
HITCHHIKER
No, no --
DUKE
(earnestly)
But our trip is different. It is a
classic affirmation of everything right
and true in the national character.
It is a gross, physical salute to the
fantastic possibilities of life in this
country. But only for those with true
grit. And we're chock full of that.
DR. GONZO
Damn straight.
DUKE
My attorney understands this, despite
his racial handicap. But you --
The CAR veers off the road and screeches to a halt. DR.
GONZO clutches his heart.
DR. GONZO
My heart! Where's the medicine?
DUKE reaches in the kit bag, pulls out FOUR AMYL CAPSULES.
Each man breaks two under his nose.
DR. GONZO
Turn up the fucking music!
My heart feels like an alligator!
Volume! Clarity! Bass!
He flails his arms. DUKE turns up the radio and tape
machine full bore, cackling wildly.
DUKE
What the fuck are we doing out here in
the desert when we both have bad hearts?
Both COLLAPSE LAUGHING. The HITCHHIKER starts scrambling
out, over the trunk lid. DR. GONZO hunches around to face
him. The HITCHHIKER freezes.
DR. GONZO
The truth is. we're going to Vegas
to croak a scag baron named Savage
Henry. I've known him for years, but
he ripped us off--you know what that
means, right?
The HITCHHIKER is speechless. DR. GONZO snarls.
DR. GONZO
Savage Henry has cashed in his check!
We're going to rip his lungs out!
DUKE
And eat them! The bastard won't
get away with this! What's going on
in this country when a... sandbagging...
scumsucker... doctors of journalism...
Blood rushes to DUKE's head. DR. GONZO cracks another amyl
under his nose. The HITCHIKER's feet hit the asphalt and he
starts running back towards Baker.
HITCHHIKER
Thanks for the ride! Thanks a
lot! I like you guys! Don't
worry about me!
DUKE
(yells)
Wait a minute! Come back and
have a beer!
DUKE leans back against the seat, breathing hard.
DUKE
I'm worried about that boy.
DR. GONZO
Good riddance. We had a real freak
on our hands. Did you see his eyes?
DUKE opens the door and reels around to the driver's side.
DR GONZO opens a fresh bottle of tequila.
DUKE
Move over. We have to get out of
California before that kid finds
a cop.
DR. GONZO
Let's turn around and drive back to
the Polo Lounge. They'll never look
for us there.
DUKE stomps on the accelerator.
DUKE
It's absolutely imperative that we get
to the Mint Hotel before the deadline
for press registration. Otherwise we
might have to pay for our suite.
GONZO hands a WHITE BLOTTER to DUKE.
As the RED SHARK disappears into the desert --
DR. GONZO'S VOICE
Your half of the acid. Chew it up
like baseball gum. We have thirty
minutes before we turn into wild
animals. As your attorney, I advise
you to drive at top speed.
The SHARK vanishes into a heat haze. Leaving nothing but
the desert and the distant figure of the HITCHHIKER, still
running, behind.
BLACK SCREEN
DUKE'S VOICE
Pay no attention to this swine.
Actually, we're both Doctors of
Journalism, and we're here in Las
Vegas to cover the main story of
our generation.
LAS VEGAS MINT HOTEL EXT DAY
DUKE, sweating profusely, holding his beer, hands over the
RED SHARK to a PARKING ATTENDANT.
DR. GONZO, behind him, paws frantically through the luggage
luggage on the sidewalk, looking for his .357 MAGNUM.
DR. GONZO
Let's forget this bullshit about the
American Dream. The important thing's
the Great Samoan Dream.
DUKE stares fixedly at the TICKET the ATTENDANT gives him.
DUKE
I need this, right?
ATTENDANT
It's okay. I'll remember your face.
DR. GONZO finds the MAGNUM, sags with relief, pockets it.
The TWO MEN march toward the HOTEL LOBBY.
DUKE
Get the story. Never lose sight of
the primary responsibility.
DR. GONZO
What is the story?
DUKE looks at him blankly as they ENTER THE HOTEL.
DUKE V/O
Nobody had bothered to say. We
would have to drum it up on our own.
Horatio Alger on drugs. Pure Gonzo
journalism.
MINT HOTEL LOBBY INT DAY
DUKE and GONZO walk to the registration line, past an array
of CONSUMER GOODS - including several mannequins, one of
which is dressed in a blue blazer, captain's hat with gold
braid, tan pants and silk scarf.
DR. GONZO
(manically)
First thing -- immediately -- room
service. We need four club sandwiches,
four shrimp cocktails, a quart of rum.
nine grapefruit. Vitamin C.
WE'LL NEED ALL WE CAN GET.
EVERYONE IN LINE TURNS AND STARES AT THEM.
DUKE
Let me handle this.
(mutters to himself as they
push to the front of the line)
Be quiet, be calm... name, rank, and
press afilliation, nothing else...
ignore this terrible drug, pretend
it's not happening...
And he comes face to face with the STONY-FACED WOMAN
RESERVATIONS CLERK. As he stares at her, babbling, her FACE
BEGINS TO MORPH. Shimmers around the edges. Goes rubbery.
DUKE
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 realize of
course that his name is not on the
list, but we must have that suite.
Yes. Just check the list and
you'll see. Don't worry. What's the
score here?
RESERVATIONS CLERK
(face MORPHING back to normal;
she holds out an ENVELOPE)
Your suite's not ready yet. But
there's somebody looking for you.
DUKE
(shouts)
No! Why? We haven't done anything yet!
At this, the RESERVATIONS CLERK MORPHS into the green jowls
and fangs of a MORAY EEL... DUKE screams, lunges back at DR.
GONZO, who reaches out and takes the ENVELOPE.
DR. GONZO
I'll handle this. This man has
a bad heart, but I have plenty of
medicine. My name is Dr. Gonzo,
Prepare our suite at once.
We'll be in the bar.
They stagger across an insanely crowded lobby toward the
BAR. No one pays any attention to them.
MINT HOTEL BAR INT DAY
They enter the BAR. decorated with a NAUTICAL THEME.
DUKE
(muttering)
There's so much blood on this floor,
we're going to have to order golf shoes
just to walk.
They sit at TWO BAR STOOLS at the edge of the lobby. DUKE
holds onto the decorative fish netting to keep his balance.
HiS POV -- the MINT 400 REGISTRATION DESK.
DR. GONZO
(at a BARTENDER)
Two cuba libres, beer and mescal
on the side.
(opens the ENVELOPE)
From your contact, Lacerda. He
wants to meet us.
ANGLE ON DUKE'S HORRIFIED FACE. His POV again --
the bar is now populated by GIANT REPTILES. One of them
gnaws on a GIANT BIRD's neck. BLOOD flows freely across the
floor.
DUKE
But what about our room? And the
golf shoes? We're right in the
middle of a fucking reptile zoo! And
somebody's giving booze to these
goddamn things! It won't be long before
they tear us to shreds.
A GROUP OF REPTILES AT THE REGISTRATION DESK stares at them.
blood dripping from their fangs.
DUKE
How many have they killed already?
Holy shit! Look at that bunch over
there! They've spotted us!
DR. GONZO
(downs his drink; gets up)
That's the press table. That's where
you have to sign in for our credentials.
You handle that. and I'll check on the
room.
DUKE
No, no. Don't leave me.
But when he looks, DR. GONZO has disappeared. He looks
around at the GHASTLY REPTILE ZOO. Carefully, he detaches a
MARLIN SPIKE from the nautical decorations at the bar, and,
holding it raised in his fist, walks OUT OF FRAME --
LIGHTNING FLASH
HISSES and SCREAMS as of a ferocious battle with REPTILES.
FADE IN FROM WHITE --
MINT HOTEL SUITE INT DUSK
DUKE, still clutching the MARLIN SPIKE, stares wildly out
the window. Myriad colors flash across his face. Behind
him, at the door, DR. GONZO signs for a large room service
order from a vaguely reptilian WAITER.
DUKE
Look outside.
DR. GONZO
Why?
DR. GONZO escorts the cart the length of the suite, to where
DUKE is transfixed by the gigantic neon sign outside the
window - millions of colored balls racing around a
complicated track, giving off a loud hum...
DUKE
There's a big... machine in the sky...
some kind of electric snake... coming
straight at us.
On the room service cart lie four club sandwiches, four
shrimp cocktails, a quart of rum and nine grapefruit.
DR. GONZO pulls one apart with his hands.
DR. GONZO
Shoot it.
DUKE
Not yet. I want to study its
habits.
DR. GONZO turns on the TV. The NIGHTLY NEWS. A BUDDHIST
MONK, protesting the war, sets himself on fire.
He goes over to the corner, pulls on the chain to close the
drapes.
DR. GONZO
Look. You've got to stop this talk
about snakes and leeches and lizards
and that stuff. It's making me sick.
DUKE
Don't worry.
DR. GONZO
Worry? Jesus. I almost went crazy
down there. They'll never let us back
in that bar - not after your scene at
the press table.
DUKE
What scene?
DR. GONZO
You bastard! I left you alone for
three minutes. You scared the shit
out of those people, waving that goddamn
marlin spike around and yelling about
reptiles. You're lucky I carne back in
time. They were ready to call the caps.
I said you were only drunk, and I'd take
you upstairs for a cold shower. Hell...
the only reason they gave us press passes
was to get you out of there.
(paws through the kit bag)
That straightened me right out.
The PHONE rings. DUKE cautiously picks it up.
DR. GONZO
I must have some drugs. What
have you done with the mescaline?
DUKE grabs the kit bag from GONZO, finds the mescaline.
They both pop some pellets.
DUKE
(to PHONE)
Hello?
DR. GONZO
Maybe you should go easy on the
mescaline. That acid's still
working on you.
VOICE ON PHONE
Thompson? Hunter S. Thompson?
Innes here. About that ape.
DUKE
(screams; drops the PHONE)
OH MY GOD! They're on to us! That
man KNOWS MY REAL NAME!
DR. GONZO tackles him again. hangs up the phone. He whips
the .357 MAGNUM from his waistband and holds it to DUKE'S
HEAD.
DR. GONZO
(cooing)
Don't you remember? You gave your
real name to some guy you met in the bar.
He was telling you about a trained ape.
You told him you wanted to buy it,
you fool.
A KNOCK ON THE DOOR.
DUKE
(moans)
Oh my God. Who's that?
DR. GONZO sticks his gun in his waistband and goes to the
door. DUKE turns his attention to the TELEVISION. The LAOS
INVASION. Explosions. Men fleeing in terror. A Pentagon
general pointing at a map.
DR. GONZO opens the door to LACERDA, the photographer.
Healthy, eager, fit.
LACERDA
(shakes hands)
Duke? I'm Lacerda. Your photographer.
Got your press passes? Good, good. Too
bad you missed the bikes checking in.
My, that was a sight. Husquavarnas.
Yamahas, Kawasakis, couple of Triumphs,
here and there a CZ...all very fast!
What a race it's gonna be. Well. We
start at dawn. Get a goodnight's sleep.
I know I will!
And with a cheerful wave, he's gone.
DR GONZO turns back to the business at hand.
DUKE
That's good. They'll probably have
a big net ready for us when we show up.
DR. GONZO
As your attorney I advise you not to
worry about me. Let's carve up this
grapefruit, make a fine rum punch.
maybe toss in some more blotter...
What's that you're watching?
He and DUKE watch the TELEVISION in silence. BURNING,
TWISTED WRECKAGE.
DR GONZO charges like a bull at the TELEVISION.
DR. GONZO
(lunges for the dial)
TURN THAT SHIT OFF!
SCREEN GOES BLACK.
THE SOUND OF MOTORCYCLES REVVING THEIR ENGINES.
DESERT EXT DAWN
SUNRISE. A cool, bright DAWN.
The SOUND OF SHOTGUNS BLASTING. And MOTORCYCLES REVVING off
screen. CRANE DOWN as the RED SHARK drives up to the MINT
GUN CLUB. GUYS taking dawn TARGET PRACTICE.
DUKE V/O
The racers were ready at dawn. Fine
sunrise over the desert. Very tense.
But the race didn't start until nine.
so we had to kill about three long hours
in the casino next to the pits. That's
where the trouble started.
RACE BAR TENT INT MORNING
Crap tables. Smoke. Drunken shouting. Might as well be
the middle of the night on the Strip.
DUKE, his ever-present beer in hand, makes his way through
the crowd toward the BAR, where a drunken REPORTER slides
off his barstool.
DUKE V/O
The bar opened at seven. There was
a "koffee and donuts canteen" in the
bunker, but those of us who had been up
all night in places like the Circus
Circus were in no mood for coffee and
donuts. We wanted strong drink.
DUKE slides onto a newly vacated barstool next to the
REPORTER.
A HOODLUM in a Vincent Black Shadow t-shirt bellies up to
the bar.
HOODLUM
God damn! What day is this--
Saturday?
DUKE
More like Sunday.
HOODLUM
Hah! That's a bitch, ain't it? Last
night I was home in Long Beach and
somebody said they were runnin' the
Mint 400 today, so I says to my
old lady, "Man. I'm goin'." So she gives
me a lot of crap about it, so I start
slappin' her around, and the next thing
you know two guys I never seen before
are beating me stupid. Then they gave
me ten bucks, put me on a bus, and when
I woke up it was dawn and here I was in
downtown Vegas, and for a minute all I
could think was, "O Jesus, who's
divorcing me this time?" But then I
remembered, by God! I was here for the
Mint 400. And, man, I tell you, it's
wonderful to be here. Just wonderful to
be here with you people.
DUKE tries fruitlessly to get the BARTENDER's attention.
REPORTER
(lunges across bar: grabs BARTENDER)
Senzaman wassyneeds!
DUKE
Fast up with it! Why not five?
(smacks the bar with his palm)
Hell yes! Bring us ten!
REPORTER
(screams)
I'll back it!
(slides to his knees)
This is a magic moment in sport! It
may never come again! I once did the
Triple Crown, but it was nothing like
this.
A FROG-EYED WOMAN claws at him, tries to haul him up.
FROG-EYED WOMAN
Stand up! Please stand up! You'd
be a very handsome man if you'd just
stand up!
REPORTER
Listen, madam. I'm damn near
intolerably handsome down here where
I am. You'd go crazy if I stood up!
A bright-eyed, camera-hung LACERDA appears.
LACERDA
(to BARTENDER)
Club soda, please.
(to DUKE)
Man, it's great out there! Getting
ready for the race. Last minute bolt
tightening, taping the headlights,
topping off oil in the forks...
DUKE
Lunatics.
LACERDA
What?
DUKE
I said, and here we are, the absolute
cream of the sporting press, gathered
to cover it.
LACERDA grins. A SHOUT goes up from outside.
LACERDA
That's it! The flag's going down.
Meet you outside!
He hurries out through the crowd. DUKE, carrying two
drinks, follows.
Much shouting. But the crowd's too thick to get through in
time. All they can see is a FLAG GOING DOWN and a CLOUD OF
DUST.
The SOUND OF THE RACE STARTING.
A CHEER goes up, and the CROWD turns, streams back into the
tent.
REPORTER 2
Well, that's that. They'll be
back in an hour or so. Let's go
back to the bar.
RACE BAR TENT EXT DAY
DUKE and GONZO run outside. Nothing. Except for a THICK
CLOUD OF DUST. LACERDA enthusiastically photographs the
DUST.
LACERDA
(shouts)
I'll just keep trying combos of film
and lenses till I find one that works
in this dust!
DESERT EXT DAY
The HUGE IMPENETRABLE CLOUD OF DUST.
The SOUND OF MOTORCYCLES RACING.
A moment later, the RED SHARK races out of the dust.
LACERDA at the wheel. DUKE next to him, coughing, choking,
trying to find the trail. DUKE drinks a beer.
DUKE
Wait! I hear one! Over there!
The RED SHARK bounces over boulders. A BIKE sounds on the
opposite direction.
LACERDA
No! There!
They are LOST IN THE CLOUD OF DUST. Coughing, they stop.
Listen.
The SOUND OF A MOTOR VEHICLE DRAWING NEAR. SHOTS BEING
FIRED. SHOUTING AND HOOTING.
DUKE stands, like a lone gunfighter preparing to meet the
enemy.
OUT OF THE DUST - A DUNE BUGGY races toward them, loaded
down with THREE RETIRED MILITARY MEN, drunk as hell, heavily
armed.
Their RADIO blares "THE BATTLE HYMN OF LIEUTENANT CALLEY."
The DUNE BUGGY is decorated with Screaming Eagles carrying
American Flags in their claws. A slant-eyed Snake being
chopped to bits by a buzz-saw made of stars and stripes.
A machine gun mount on the passenger side.
The DUNE BUGGY races over and stops, MUSIC BLARING. All
have to YELL to make themselves heard.
DUNE BUGGY DRIVER
We're looking for the race. Where
is the damn thing?
DUKE
Beats me. We're just good patriotic
Americans like yourself.
The DUNE BUGGYISTS eye LACERDA, who is clearly not of the
white American persuasion.
DUNE BUGGY PASSENGER #1
(sings along with radio)
"We responded to their rifle fire with
everything we had..."
DUNE BUGGY DRIVER
(suspiciously)
What outfit you fellows with?
DUNE BUGGY PASSENGER #2 eyes them, automatic weapon held
across his chest.
DUKE
The sporting press. We're friendlies.
Hired geeks.
The DRIVER and DUNE BUGGY PASSENGER #2 exchange looks.
DUKE
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 THE
SELLING OF THE PENTAGON.
All in the DUNE BUGGY brighten.
DUNE BUGGY PASSENGER #1
HOT DAMN!
DUNE BUGGY PASSENGER #2
A black jeep, you say?
And they ROAR away.
DUNE BUGGY DRIVER
THANKS FOR THE TIP!
LACERDA screeches off in the opposite direction, waking DR.
GONZO, who has been asleep in the back seat of the SHARK,
and yanking DUKE down in a heap on the seat, spilling his
beer.
DUKE
You're fired. Take me back to the pits.
CUT TO:
DESERT HIGHWAY EXT DAY
The RED SHARK drives out of the dust cloud, onto the highway
back toward Las Vegas, past a GIANT BILLBOARD that says:
DON'T GAMBLE WITH MARIJUANA!
IN NEVADA: POSSESSION--20 YEARS
SALE--LIFE!
DR. GONZO sits with his feet up on the back seat -- dressed
in a new blue blazer, captain's hat with gold braid, tan
pants and silk scarf.
DR. GONZO
Is that mescaline working for you?
It's not working for me.
LAS VEGAS STREETS EXT NIGHT
LACERDA has been left at the hotel. DUKE, beer in hand,
drives. DR. GONZO, in his nautical outfit, scans The Vegas
Visitor. They each take another mescaline pellet.
DR. GONZO
How about "Nickel Nick's Slot Arcade"?
"Hot Slots," that sounds heavy.
Twenty-nine cent hotdogs....
DUKE
We should go see the Debbie Reynolds
show at the Desert Inn. I don't know
about you, but in my line of business,
it's important to be Hep.
DR. GONZO
Mine too. But as your attorney I
advise you to drive over to the
Tropicana and pickup on Guy Lombardo.
He's in the Blue Room with his Royal
Canadians.
DUKE
Why?
DR. GONZO
Why what?
DUKE
Why should I pay out my hard-earned
dollars to watch a fucking corpse?
DR. GONZO
Look. Why are we out here? To
entertain ourselves, or to do the
job?
DUKE
The job, of course.
DESERT INN EXT NIGHT
He turns suddenly, and, after a series of bumps, the RED
SHARK comes to a halt.
A DOORMAN appears, waving his hands and screaming.
DOORMAN
What the hell are you doing?
You can't park here!
DUKE
Why not?
PULL BACK to reveal the RED SHARK parked on the sidewalk in
front of the DESERT INN. The MARQUEE says: TONIGHT.
DEBBIE REYNOLDS.
DR. GONZO leaps from the car, hands the DOORMAN a bill.
DR. GONZO
We want this car parked! I'm
an old friend of Debbie's. I
used to romp with her.
The DOORMAN pockets the bill, hands them a parking stub.
Our HEROES hurry toward the hotel.
DUKE
That was quick thinking.
DR. GONZO
What do you expect? I'm your
attorney. And you owe me five
bucks. I want it now.
DUKE hands it over.
DESERT INN HOTEL LOBBY INT NIGHT
The REPORTER from the Mint 400 chants his story into a lobby
phone, surrounded by PLASTIC PALM TREES.
REPORTER
LAS VEGAS AT DAWN--the racers are still
asleep, the dust is still on the desert.
$50.000 in prize money slumbers darkly
in the office safe at the fabulous Mint
Hotel. And the cream of the sporting
press is here, as always, with a sturdy
police escort... yes, operator, that
word was police...
DUKE and GONZO enter, pass him by, hurrying toward the GRAND
BALLROOM--which is guarded by a MAN IN A WINE-COLORED
TUXEDO.
DUKE V/O
This was Bob Hope's turf. Frank
Sinatra's. Spiro Agnew's. The
lobby reeked of high-grade formica.
Clearly a high-class refuge for
Big Spenders.
DUKE, the mescaline kicking in again, stares at a huge
photograph of DEBBIE REYNOLDS and the BEE GEES. His eyes
come to rest of DR. GONZO, arguing with the MAN IN THE WINE-
COLORED TUXEDO.
GONZO
What do you mean it's full?
Fuck seats. We're old friends of
Debbie's. We drove all the way from
L.A. for this show, and we're goddamn
well going in.
Argument. More BILLS exchange hands.
DUKE V/O
Finally, after a lot of bad noise.
he let us in. Provided we would
stand quietly in back and not smoke.
GRAND BALLROOM STANDING ROOM INT NIGHT
Our HEROES stand, transfixed, at a STAGE that we never see.
DUKE's hand automatically reaches inside his pocket for a
HASH PIPE.
DUKE V/O
We promised, of course, but the
tension had been too great.
The SOUNDS OF A HIGHLY BLANDIZED ROCK SONG waft from the
stage.
DUKE
Did the mescaline just kick in?
Or is that Debbie Reynolds in a
silver Afro wig?
DR. GONZO
(yells)
JESUS CREEPING SHIT, WE'VE
WANDERED INTO A TIME CAPSULE.
HEAVY HANDS grab them from behind as DUKE jams the PIPE back
into his pocket.
DESERT INN EXT NIGHT
Our HEROES are thrown through the front door, as the RED
SHARK is driven up.
WINE-COLORED TUXEDO
If Debbie has friends like you guys,
she's in worse trouble than I thought.
The RED SHARK drives away, DUKE at the wheel. GONZO stands
on the passenger side, yelling.
DR. GONZO
We'll see about this! You paranoid scum!
DUKE
We'll go to the Circus Circus Casino.
They'll never fuck with us there.
The TAILLIGHTS disappear down the street.
DR. GONZO'S VOICE
I'm telling you, this mescaline isn't
working. Where's the ether?
CIRCUS CIRCUS PARKING LOT EXT NIGHT
RED SHARK parked. DUKE smokes the hash pipe in front.
DR. GONZO appears from the trunk bearing ether. He pours it
on two kleenex, which both men hold up to their noses.
They get out of the car, laughing hysterically, falling over
each other, reeling like drunks in an early Irish novel.
DUKE V/O
This is the main advantage of ether.
Total loss of all basic motor skills--
severance of all connection between
body and brain. Which is interesting,
because the brain continues to function
more or less normally. You can actually
watch yourself behaving in this terrible
way, but you can't control it.
CIRCUS CIRCUS CASINO INT NIGHT
At the TURNSTYLES, DUKE and GONZO bounce off the walls,
crash into OLD LADIES, giggle helplessly as they try to pay.
DUKE V/O
Ah, devil ether. A total body drug.
The mind recoils in horror, unable to
communicate with the spinal column.
Hands flap crazily, unable to get money
out of pocket...garbled laughter and
hissing from the mouth...always
smiling...
The ATTENDANTS help the MEN with their money and tenderly
escort them through the turnstyles.
DUKE V/O
Ether is the perfect drug for Las
Vegas. In this town they love a drunk.
Fresh meat. So they put us through the
turnstiles and turned us loose inside.
CIRCUS CIRCUS REVOLVING MERRY-GO-ROUND BAR INT NIGHT
DUKE and GONZO sit, glassy-eyed, on the revolving platform,
gazing ahead of them. GONZO shakes uncontrollably. The
other PATRONS stare.
DUKE V/O
Four stories above our heads, a
half-naked fourteen year old girl
was being chased through the air
by a snarling Wolverine and six nymphet
sisters from San Diego. Suddenly
the Wolverine was locked in a death
battle with two silver-pained Polacks
-- seizing the animal they fall towards
the crap tables -- shoot the pasties
off the nipples of a ten-foot bull-
dyke -- win a cotton-candy goat.
A loudly-dressed MIDWAY HUSTLER steps up to them. He
carries a large CAMERA attatched to a long TUBE.
HUSTLER
Stand in front of this fantastic
machine, my friends, and for just
99c your likeness will appear.
two hundred feet tall, on a screen
above downtown Las Vegas!
(he sticks the CAMERA in
DR. GONZO's face)
Say whatever you want, fella.
They'll hear you, don't worry about
that. Remember, you'll be two
hundred feet tall!
DUKE
This is what the whole hep world
would be doing on Saturday night
if the Nazis had won the war.
DR GONZO pisses his pants. The HUSTLER, disgusted, turns
away.
DR. GONZO
This place is getting to me.
I'm getting the Fear.
DUKE
Nonsense. We came here to find
the American Dream, and now we're
in the vortex. You must realize
that we've found the main nerve.
DR. GONZO
That's what gives me the Fear.
DUKE
Look over there. Two women fucking
a Polar Bear.
DR. GONZO
(shouts)
Don't fuck around! One more hour
in this town and I'll kill somebody!
He leaps up, shivering and sweating, runs to the edge of the
turntable.
DR. GONZO
When does this thing stop?
DUKE carefully gets up, walks past him off the turntable.
DUKE
It's not ever going to stop.
He reaches out to grab GONZO, who, recoiling in fear, is
carried around one more time.
DUKE V/O
We were both out of our heads.
If we wanted to avoid jail, the
thing to do was leave quietly.
Duke leaps on to the merry-go-round and shoves GONZO from
behind. GONZO goes down with a hellish scream.
DUKE leaps off the turntable, hurries away. GONZO scrambles
after him.
DR. GONZO
Somebody pushed me!
DUKE
The bartender. He didn't like
you flirting with the Polar Bear.
DR. GONZO
Jesus! Let's get out of here!
Where's the elevator?
DUKE
Don't go near that elevator. That's
just what they want...trap us in a steel
box and take us down to the basement.
And don't run. They'd like an excuse
to shoot us.
They disappear into DARKNESS.
DUKE V/O
No, This is not a good town for
psychedelic drugs. Reality itself
is too twisted.
MINT HOTEL INT NIGHT
An ELEVATOR DOOR opens to reveal a BRIGHT LIGHT--and the
SMILING FACES of LACERDA, the BLONDE TV REPORTER and HER
CREW.
MINT HOTEL ELEVATOR INT NIGHT
DUKE and DR. GONZO stagger into the bright light of their
hotel elevator. Both are a mess.
A shaking GONZO hovers moonily around a BLONDE TV REPORTER.
LACERDA
(to DUKE)
Ran into a guy named Innes.
He's looking for you. Something
about an ape.
BLONDE TV REPORTER
(babbles nervously to DR. GONZO)
Exciting race, wasn't it? Did you
see the finish?
DR. GONZO
I was in the finish.
BLONDE TV REPORTER
What? What class were you in?
I mean what did you ride?
DR. GONZO
I RIDE THE BIG ONES. THE REALLY
BIG FUCKERS!
DUKE laughs, tries to defuse the situation.
DR. GONZO turns slowly and ominously.
DR. GONZO
Pardon me, lady, but I think there's
some kind of ignorant chicken-sucker
in this car who needs his face cut open.
From his pocket, he pulls out a GLEAMING HUNTING KNIFE.
The ELEVATOR DOOR opens and closes. Nobody moves.
DR. GONZO
You cheap honky faggots! Which one
of you wants to get cut?
DUKE, sweating, watches the ELEVATOR NUMBERS. Their floor.
MINT HOTEL HALLWAY INT NIGHT
GONZO emerges from the elevator, nonchalantly sheathing his
knife. DUKE looks back into the silent elevator as the
doors close. We do not see inside.
MINT HOTEL SUITE INT NIGHT
DR. GONZO
(laughs manically)
Spooked! Did you see that? They
were like rats in a death cage!
DUKE
Where'd you get that knife?
DR. GONZO
Room service sent it up. Along
with the other stuff. I wanted
something to cut the limes.
DUKE surveys the room. AN INCREDIBLE ARRAY OF EXPENSIVE
GOODS sent by room service. Liquor. Baccarat crystal. A
full set of calfskin luggage. Six hundred bars of
Neutrogena soap. Everything but limes.
DUKE
What limes?
DR. GONZO
They didn't have any. They don't
grow in the desert.
He opens a new bottle of tequila with his teeth and chugs
it. DUKE watches him warily. GONZO slices a grapefruit
into quarters, then eighths, then sixteenths, then starts
slashing aimlessly at the residue.
DUKE V/O
One of the things you learn, after years
of dealing with drug people, is that you
can turn your back on a person, but never
turn your back on a drug. Especially
when it's waving a razor-sharp hunting
knife in your eyes.
DUKE
Look. I've got to get some rest.
Why don't you take a shower or something.
DR. GONZO eyes him malevolently. Turns with the tequila
bottle, tucks another one under his arm, and lumbers toward
the bath.
DR. GONZO
That girl in the elevator understood.
It's serious. She's in love with me
now.
DUKE sags with relief. Too soon. DR. GONZO stiffens as
another paranoid thought races through his addled brain.
Stiffens and ominously turns.
DR. GONZO
You made a deal with him.
DUKE
What? Who?
DR. GONZO
That Portuguese son of a bitch.
Lacerda! I knew it! He's stolen
my woman! They're upstairs
together now! And you put him
onto her!
He lunges at DUKE, who whips a CAN OF MACE from the kit bag.
DUKE
MACE! YOU WANT THIS?
He waves the CAN wildly. GONZO stops. Hisses.
DR. GONZO
You bastard! You'd do that,
wouldn't you?
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...
DR. GONZO
You cheap honky sonofabitch...
DUKE
There's no choice. I can't go
to sleep with you wandering around
with a head full of acid and wanting
to slice me up with that goddamn knife!
DR. GONZO
(mumbles)
Who said anything about slicing you
up? I just wanted to carve a little
Z on your forehead. In memory of
Lieutenant Calley. Nothing serious.
DUKE
(menaces him with the MACE)
Get in that bathroom. Eat some reds,
try to calm down, smoke some grass,
-- shit, do whatever you have to do,
but let me get some rest.
GONZO turns toward the bathroom, muttering earnestly.
DR. GONZO
Hell, yes. You really need to sleep.
You have to work. God damn. What
a bummer.
(waves his hand)
Try to rest. Don't let me keep you up.
GONZO shuffles into the bathroom. DUKE jams a chair up
against the doorknob, locking him in. Looks at the alarm
clock. It says 6:00 a.m. He sets the alarm. Puts the MACE
CAN next to the clock. Turns on the TV. NEWS. He rolls a
joint.
TV NEWSCASTER (ON TV)
Volunteer witnesses told an informal
congressional panel yesterday that while
serving as military interrogators they
routinely used electrical telephone
hookups and helicopter drops to torture
and kill Vietnamese prisoners...
Inhaling the dope, DUKE changes the channel. An old MISSION
IMPOSSIBLE rerun. Changes it again. A HUMPHREY BOGART
MOVIE. Changes it again. SPORTS NEWS. He settles back in
his chair.
SPORTSCASTER (ON TV)
In other sports news, boxing legend
Muhammad Ali's draft evasion case goes
before the Supreme Court tomorrow. It
is the fighter's final appeal. Sentenced
to five years...
Changes the channel again. The other NEWS SHOW has a clip
of MUHAMMAD ALI.
MUHAMMAD ALI (ON TV)
I ain't got nothin' against them
Viet Congs.
Changes the channel again. The BOGART MOVIE again. DUKE
watches for a moment as BOGART overpowers a cheap GUNSEL.
Then he finishes his joint, and finds a DEAD CHANNEL.
WHITE NOISE fills the room.
DUKE leans back in his chair. puts on his sunglasses, and
falls asleep.
SAME - HALF HOUR LATER
The SOUND OF JEFFERSON AIRPLANE'S "WHITE RABBIT" seeps out
from under the bathroom door.
DAWN seeps in under the window shades.
DUKE V/O
The decision to flee came suddenly.
The MUSIC goes off abruptly. Tape being rewound.
DUKE V/O
Or maybe not. Maybe I'd planned it
all along. Subconsciously waited
for the right moment.
MORE MUSIC BLASTS OUT OF THE BATHROOM AT TWICE FULL VOLUME.
DUKE jumps awake, knocking the MACE CAN and the ALARM CLOCK
to the floor. The ALARM goes off. The MACE discharges on
the carpet. Coughing, horribly groggy, DUKE stomps at the
CAN with his foot. Grabs a PAPER from the room service cart
to wipe his eyes. Looks at it. The BILL.
DUKE V/O
The bill was a factor, I think.
Room service. Here I was in Las
Vegas, with this goddamn incredibly
expensive car, completely twisted on
drugs, no cash, no story for the
magazine--and on top of everything else.
I had a gigantic goddamn hotel bill
to deal with. Sure, I never signed
anything with my real name. But could
I count on that?
The MUSIC stops. And STARTS UP AGAIN. LOUDER.
DUKE
Will you shut that fucking thing off!
He kicks the chair away from the bathroom door and charges
in.
THE BATHROOM INT DAY
A GREEN FOG STEAMBATH.
DR. GONZO wallows in a slickly surfaced steaming tub.
The TAPE PLAYER wails, from where it's plugged in over the
sink. DUKE yanks out the cord. And then notices a HUGE
HUNK OF CHEWED UP WHITE BLOTTER in the sink.
DUKE
You ate this? ALL THIS ACID?
No answer. GONZO flails in the tub as if the music still
plays. SFX -- his head breaks into molecules which revolve
around the room.
DUKE
You evil son of a bitch. You
better hope there's some thorazine
around here, because if there's not,
you're in bad trouble.
DR. GONZO
Music. Turn it up. Put that tape on.
DUKE
What tape?
DR. GONZO
Jefferson Airplane. "White Rabbit."
I want a rising sound.
DUKE
You're doomed. I'm leaving here
in fifteen minutes, 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.
DR. GONZO
I dig my own graves. Green water and
the White Rabbit. Put it on. Don't
make me use this.
His arm flashes out of the water, holding the KNIFE.
DUKE
Jesus.
He plugs in the tape/radio player, and switches on the tape.
"WHITE RABBIT" begins to build.
DR. GONZO
Let it roll. Just as high as the tucker
can go! And when it comes to that
fantastic note where the rabbit bites its
own head off, I wan t you to THROW THAT
FUCKING RADIO INTO THE TUB WITH ME!
DUKE switches off the machine. They are frozen in a
STANDOFF
DUKE V/O
This is it, I thought. I've gone as
far as I can with this waterhead. This
time it's a suicide trip. This time he
wants it. He's ready...
DUKE
Oh no. Not this radio. It would blast
you right through the wall--stone dead in
ten seconds. Shit, they'd make me
explain it. Drag me down to some rotten
coroner's inquest and grill me about the
exact details--
DR. GONZO
BULLSHIT! Just tell them I wanted
to get HIGHER!
DUKE consIders this.
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?
DR. GONZO sinks gratefully back into the water.
DR. GONZO
Fuck 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
Don't worry. 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 sorts through a PILE OF GRAPEFRUIT on the
sink. Picking out a good two-pounder, he gets a grip on it-
-and when "WHITE RABBIT" peaks, he lashes it into the tub
like a cannonball.
GONZO screams crazily, thrashing and churning in the tub.
DUKE grabs the TAPE/RADIO DECK, jams out of the bathroom--
MINT HOTEL SUITE INT DAY
-- and out of the soundproof suite, grabbing his bag and his
mace as he goes.
BATHROOM INT DAY
GONZO floats in the tub, a beatific last smile on his face.
MINT HOTEL ELEVATOR INT DAY
A foot-tapping, beer-drinking DUKE watches the floor numbers
as the elevator descends. Checks his pockets. Pulls out
THREE FIVE DOLLAR BILLS.
MINT HOTEL LOBBY INT DAY
DUKE hurries out of the elevator, gives a BILL to the MINION
waiting there, who instantly barks an order into the house
phone.
Motoring, DUKE moves to the HOTEL FRONT DOORWAY, where he
gives another BILL to the DOORMAN, who blows a frantic
whistle and waves at the CAR BOY.
DUKE V/O
Now it was only a matter of slipping
the noose. Yes, extremely casual
behavior, wild eyes hidden behind
these Saigon-mirror sunglasses, waiting
for the Shark to roll up....
MINT HOTEL EXT DAY
The CAR BOY pulls up with a SCREECH, DUKE throws him the
last BILL and jumps in. Deliverance!
BELLBOY'S VOICE
MR. DUKE!
DUKE freezes. Then turns on the ignition.
BELLBOY'S VOICE
Mr. Duke! We've been looking for you!
DUKE shifts into drive. The BELLBOY appears, breathlessly
hurling himself at the side of the car. DUKE leans his head
on the steering wheel in resignation. Then turns a sickly
smile on the BELLBOY. Turns off the ignition.
DUKE
Well...why not? I'm too tired to resist.
Many fine books have been written in
prison.
BELLBOY
Sir?
He thrusts out a TELEGRAM.
BELLBOY
This telegram came for you. Actually,
it isn't for you. It's for somebody
named Thompson, but it says 'care of
Raoul Duke'. Does that make sense?
I figured this man Thompson might be
part of your team.
DUKE
He is. Absolutely. The thing to do
is give this telegram to Dr. Gonzo.
The Doctor handles all our finances,
makes all our arrangements.
He turns the ignition again. The BELLBOY hangs onto the
side of the car tenaciously.
BELLBOY
Tell me. When will the doctor be
awake?
DUKE
(tenses)
Awake? What do you mean?
BELLBOY
(uncomfortably)
Well...the manager, Mr. Heem, would like
to meet him. Nothing unusual. Mr. Heem
likes to meet all our large accounts...
put them on a personal basis...just a
chat and a handshake, you understand.
DUKE
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.
BELLBOY
But he will be available? Perhaps
later this morning?
DUKE
Look, I have to get going. I have
to get out to the track.
BELLBOY
There's no hurry! The race is over!
DUKE
(taking off)
Not for me.
He WAVES, friendly-style, at the BELLBOY, and speeds around
a turn, wheels screeching.
DUKE V/O
The weasels were closing in.
I could smell the ugly brutes. Yes,
it was definitely time to leave.
My margin had shrunk to nothing.
AIRPORT EXT DAY
An AIRPLANE lifts off with a screech.
ON THE AIRPLANE INT DAY
DUKE, sunglasses on, beer in hand, looks out the window at
the RED SHARK parked crazily in the lot below. It recedes
to nothing.
DUKE V/O
It would have taken extreme physical
force to keep me off that plane. I was
so far beyond simple fatigue that I was
beginning to feel nicely adjusted to the
idea of permanent hysteria. I felt the
slightest misunderstanding with the
stewardess would cause me to either cry
or go mad. And the woman seemed to sense
this, because she treated me very gently.
The STEWARDESS gently places a BLOODY MARY in front of him.
DUKE
May I...have more ice, please?
STEWARDESS
Certainly, sir. And would you like
a newspaper?
DUKE
Thank you.
He scans the front page. WAR NEWS. "FIVE WOUNDED NEAR NYC
TENEMENT." "PHARMACY OWNER ARRESTED IN PROBE."
DUKE V/O
(swallows PILLS down with the
Bloody Mary)
Reading the front page made me feel
a lot better. Against that heinous
background, my crimes were pale and
meaningless.
He puts down the PAPER, looks out the window at the DESERT
below.
DUKE V/O
I thought about my attorney. That
nightmare in the bathroom. Just another
ugly refugee from the Love Generation.
That was the fatal flaw in Timothy
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
too seriously.
DUKE holds out his EMPTY GLASS to the STEWARDESS.
DUKE
Could I have another Bloody Mary,
please? And...you wouldn't have any
cigarettes, would you?
She smiles at him, disappears down the aisle, reappearing
with her own PURSE. She takes a PACK OF CIGARETTES from
this, gives it to him.
DUKE V/O
Not that they didn't deserve it. They
all Got What Was Coming To Them. All
those pathetically eager acid freaks who
thought they could buy Peace and
Understanding for three dollars a hit.
He holds out another EMPTY GLASS.
DUKE
Maybe you just better bring me
five, this time.
STEWARDESS
Five Bloody Marys?
DUKE
Just five vodkas.
He looks out again at the desert. ANGLE ON: the
magnificent RED MOUNTAINS seen from the air.
DUKE V/O
But what Leary took with him was the
central illusion of the whole lifestyle
that he helped to create. That sense
of inevitable victory over the forces
of Old and Evil. That our energy would
simply prevail. There was no point in
fighting. We were riding the crest of
a high and beautiful wave....
(pause)
So now, less than five years later, you
can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas
and look West, and with the right kind
of eyes you can almost see the high-water
mark--that place where the wave finally
broke and rolled back.
DUKE shuts his eyes.
BLACK SCREEN
DUKE V/O
I live in a quiet place. If I
hurried, I had just enough time
to catch the connection home.
JETWAY INT DAY
DUKE, the last person off the plane, walks down the jetway,
increasingly cheerful.
And there. AT THE END OF THE JETWAY --
The UNIFORMED DWARF from the Polo Lounge, aggressively
holding out the PHONE ON A TRAY.
DUKE
(moans softly)
Oh, Jesus, no...
He shuts his eyes in despair.
CAPTAIN'S VOICE
Folks... we got a little snag here.
Nothing to be alarmed about --
AIRPLANE INT DAY
The plane lurches alarmingly. Warning lights come on.
DUKE wolfs down his vodkas as the STEWARDESSES prepare for
an EMERGENCY LANDING --
CAPTAIN'S VOICE
-- We're experiencing a little
mechanical difficulty. And we'll
be going back the way we came.
STOCK FOOTAGE
The PAN AM JET turns in the air.
DUKE V/O
Well, I thought. This is how the world
works. All energy flows according to
the whims of the Great Magnet. What
a fool I was to defy him. Never cross
the Great Magnet. I understood this
now.
AIRPLANE INT DAY
DUKE opens his eyes. He is still in his seat. Everyone
else has left the plane. Beside him are the STEWARDESS and
an AIRLINES CUSTOMER RELATIONS MAN holding a TELEGRAM. They
look at him with concern.
CUSTOMER RELATIONS MAN
(to STEWARDESS)
Is he okay?
STEWARDESS
He's just had a little too much to drink.
(shakes DUKE's arm gently)
Mr. Duke? We're back in Las Vegas.
And you have a telegram.
DUKE shuts his eyes again. Opens them. They're still
there.
DUKE
Read it to me, would you, please?
My eyes aren't too good this time of day.
The MAN and STEWARDESS exchange looks. She reads.
STEWARDESS
"RETURN AT ONCE REPEAT AT ONCE WE HAVE
A NEW ASSIGNMENT ALSO VEGAS STOP THE
NATIONAL CONFERENCE OF DISTRICT ATTORNEYS
INVITES YOU TO THEIR FOUR DAY SEMINAR ON
NARCOTICS AND DANGEROUS DRUGS STOP
MAGAZINE WANTS 50 THOUSAND WORDS MASSIVE
PAYMENT TOTAL EXPENSES INCLUDING ALL
SAMPLES STOP EVERYTHING IS ARRANGED."
(pause)
It's signed "Doctor Gonzo."
DUKE
(mutters)
Holy shit.
AIRPLANE DOOR EXT AFTERNOON
DUKE stands in the doorway, beer in hand.
Sweating horribly, he looks down at LAS VEGAS AIRPORT.
He begins his descent.
DUKE V/O
I tend to sweat heavily in warm
climates. My clothes are soaking
wet from dawn to dusk --
DOCTOR'S OFFICE INT DAY
A DOCTOR examines DUKE.
DUKE V/O
This worried me at first, but then I went
to a doctor and described my normal daily
intake of booze, drugs and poison --
DUKE
Two or three sixpacks of beer, quart of
Chivas, handful of reds, couple of
joints, oh, I don't know, varying amount
of coke, 1/2 pound steak, rare --
DOCTOR
Come back when the sweating stops.
That's the danger point.
DUKE V/O
A sign, he said, that my body's
dangerously overworked flushing
mechanism had broken down completely.
DOCTOR
I have great faith in the natural
processes. But in your case...well...I
find no precedent. We'll just have to
wait and see, then work with what's left.
LAS VEGAS AIRPORT BAR INT AFTERNOON
The COCKTAIL WAITRESS brings two Bloody Marys.
DUKE
Made with V-8 juice, right? I need the
nutritional content. That's right.
I'm here to cover the Drug Conference.
Haven't eaten anything but grapefruit
for about twenty hours. There are limits
to what the human body can endure.
The COCKTAIL WAITRESS backs away from him. Goes to the bar.
She and the BARTENDER murmur, watch him. DUKE flashes them
a BOGART SMILE.
DUKE V/O
You better watch yourself, I thought.
You don't want to break down and start
bleeding from the ears right here in the
terminal. Not in this town.
The BARTENDER and COCKTAIL WAITRESS turn away. DUKE
scrabbles through his leather carry-on for the DRUG KIT BAG.
DUKE V/O
Luckily, nobody bothered me while I
ran a quick inventory. The stash was
a hopeless mess, all churned together
and half-crushed. Some of the mescaline
pellets had disintegrated into a reddish
brown powder...
(licks powder from his fingers)
...but I counted about thirty-five or
forty still intact. My attorney had
eaten all the reds, but there was quite
a bit of speed left... one acid blotter.
a nice brown lump of opium hash, six
loose amyls... Not enough for
anything serious, but a careful rationing
of the mescaline would probably get us
through the four-day Drug Conference.
DUKE gestures to the WAITRESS, who ignores him. He shrugs
and leaves.
DUKE V/O
No sign of my attorney. I decided
to take my chances on my own.
VIP CAR RENTAL BOOTH EXT AFTERNOON
The AGENT sits in the glass booth reading a MICKEY SPILLANE
NOVEL. DUKE cruises up in the RED SHARK, honks the horn.
The AGENT jumps, hurries outside.
AGENT
Yessir!
DUKE
This goddamn Chevy has caused me a lot
of trouble. I get the feeling that
people are putting me down--especially
in gas stations. when I have to get out
and open the hood manually...
AGENT
(brightly)
Well...of course. What you need is
one of our Mercedes 600 Towne-Cruiser
Specials, with air-conditioning. You
can even carry your own fuel, if you
want, we make that available....
DUKE
Do I look like a goddamn Nazi? I'll
have a natural American car, or
nothing at all!
SAME A FEW MOMENTS LATER
DUKE and AGENT in same spots, only now DUKE sits in a WHITE
CADILLAC COUPE DE VILLE -- the WHITE WHALE.
The AGENT fills out the credit slip with DUKE's credit card
number, while DUKE, punching the buttons on the dash, makes
every inch of the automated car jump.
DUKE V/O
They called up the white Coupe de Ville
at once. Ten grand worth of gimmicks
and high-priced Special Effects. The
dashboard was full of esoteric lights
and dials and meters that I would never
understand...
He signs the CREDIT SLIP and pulls out, the AGENT beaming.
The AGENT goes into the booth. Routine phone credit check.
THE WHITE WHALE EXT DUSK
As DUKE drives away, the AGENT, freaked at what he's heard
on the phone, races after him. Too late.
DUKE V/O
But there was no doubt in my mind
that I was in a superior machine...
Behind him, the AGENT waves his arms, races through traffic
after, until, exhausted, he must fall back.
DUKE drives on.
FLAMINGO HOTEL EXT NIGHT
A GIANT SIGN: THE FLAMINGO WELCOMES DISTRICT ATTORNEYS DRUG
CONFERENCE 1971.
The WHITE WHALE turns into a VIP PARKING SLOT, immediately
attended by impressed MINIONS.
DUKE V/O
I drove straight to the hotel. Still
no sign of my attorney. I decided to
check in on my own--if only to get off
the street and avoid a public breakdown.
A mangy, bleary-eyed, on-the-edge DUKE gets out of the car.
pops another pill, takes a swig of his beer, and heads for
the lobby.
FLAMINGO HOTEL LOBBY INT NIGHT
A nightmare. About a HUNDRED COP TYPES on vacation, all
dressed almost exactly alike in plaid bermuda shorts, Arnold
Palmer golf shirts, and rubberized beach sandals.
DUKE enters, forces himself to remain calm, heads for the
check-in line.
DUKE V/O
The place was full of cops. I saw this
at a glance. It was a terrifying scene
to walk into--a super stakeout of some
kind. If I hadn't known about the
conference, my mind might have snapped.
He turns to joke with the DISTRICT ATTORNEY behind him.
Waves at the lobby.
DUKE
You get the impression somebody's going
to be gunned down in a blazing crossfire
at any moment?
(DA stares stonily ahead)
Like, maybe, the entire Manson family?
Still no response. DUKE shrugs, turns away.
AHEAD OF HIM -- A POLICE CHIEF argues with the DESK CLERK.
The POLICE CHIEF'S 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. Hell, I'm
with the District Attorneys' Conference!
I've already paid for my room!
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
and actually a very fine place of lodging
and only sixteen blocks from here, with
its own pool and...
The POLICE CHIEF'S WIFE gives a WAIL OF GRIEF.
POLICE CHIEF
You dirty little faggot! Call the
manager! I'm tired of listening to
this dogshit!
CLERK
(solicitously)
I'm so sorry, sir. May I call you a cab?
DUKE catches the CLERK'S EYE. The CLERK WINKS.
DUKE V/O
Of course. I could hear what the Clerk
was really saying--
As the POLICE CHIEF screams insults, the CLERK gives his
speech as in DUKE'S IMAGINATION.
CLERK
(to POLICE CHIEF)
Listen, you fuzzy little shithead--
I've been fucked around, in my time, by
a fairly good cross-section of mean-
tempered rule-crazy cops and now it's
MY turn. It doesn't matter who's right
or wrong, man...what matters is that for
the first time in my life I can say:
"Fuck you, officer, I'm in charge here,
and I'm telling you we don't have room
for you."
The CLERK'S EYES glitter malevolently.
DUKE steps to the desk, around the raging POLICE CHIEF.
DUKE
Say. I hate to interrupt, but I have a
reservation and I wonder if maybe I could
just sort of slide through and get out of
your way.
He put his CREDIT CARD down. EVERYONE goes silent. The
POLICE CHIEF GROUP stares at him in horror. His old Levis.
His dirty basketball sneakers. His Acapulco shirt torn
apart by road-wind. His three day beard growth. His mirror
shades.
The CLERK smiles broadly, hits the bell for the BELLBOY.
CLERK
Raoul Duke. Certainly, sir! And
your bags?
DUKE
Out there in that white Cadillac
convertible. Can you have someone
drive it around to the room?
ALL EYES swivel toward the gleaming WHITE WHALE.
DUKE
Oh, and could I get a quart of
Wild Turkey, two fifths of Bacardi,
and a night's worth of ice delivered
to my room, please?
CLERK
(nods)
Don't worry about a thing, sir. Just
enjoy your stay. Oh, and there's a
message for you, sir. Somebody named
Innes. He'll call later about the ape.
DUKE
Thank you.
The POLICE CHIEF CROWD stare at him in shock as he waits by
the ELEVATOR. He stares back at them.
DUKE V/O
My presence was an outrage. I was
the Menace. A stone obvious drug
abuser. And I intended to push
it all the way to the limit.
DUKE gives a loud SNUFFLE, wipes his nose with his fingers,
hauls another BEER out and opens it.
DUKE V/O
It was a matter of life-style, of
obligation--even duty. If the Pigs
were gathered in Vegas for a top-level
Drug Conference, I felt the drug culture
should be represented.
The POLICE CHIEF, furious, is restrained by his FRIENDS.
DUKE gives them a friendly wave with the beer can.
disappears into the elevator.
HOTEL FLAMINGO UPSTAIRS CORRIDOR INT NIGHT
DUKE stumbles from the elevator, laughing, heads for his
room.
DUKE V/O
My idea was to get into the room.
smoke my last big chunk of Singapore
Grey while watching Walter Cronkite.
I needed this break, this moment of
peace and refuge, before I did the
Drug Conference.
DUKE
(sags with relief; fits the
key into the lock)
Ah, home at last!
He swings the door open. IT HITS SOMETHING WITH A SICKENING
THUD.
DUKE V/O
Somehow I knew I had the right room...
HOTEL FLAMINGO SUITE INT NIGHT
DUKE enters. The door has hit a sixteen year old GIRL with
the aura of an angry Pit Bull.
With a curse, he throws his satchel on the bed and turns.
DR. GONZO, huge and naked, stands grinning in front of a ten
foot MIRROR.
DUKE
(moving toward him)
Hey, buddy, how are you doing?
DR. GONZO
Just great, old friend. Yourself?
DUKE
Just fine.
(lowers his voice)
You degenerate pig. What is she?
Sixteen?
DR. GONZO
This is Lucy. You know--like Lucy
in the sky with diamonds.
LUCY eyes DUKE, like a wild beast. A GROWLING NOISE comes
from her throat. She makes ready to pounce.
DR. GONZO
Lucy! Be cool, goddamnit!
Remember what happened in the lobby!
No more of that, okay?
She growls again. DR. GONZO takes her by the arm.
DR. GONZO
Lucy...this is my client, Mr. Duke,
the famous journalist. He's paying
for this suite, Lucy. He's on our
side.
She still growls. DUKE's hand reaches for the MACE.
DR. GONZO
NO! NOT HERE! WE'LL HAVE
TO MOVE OUT!
GONZO leads LUCY away, coaxing gently.
DR. GONZO
Mr. Duke is my friend. He loves
artists. Let's show him your paintings.
Still holding the MACE, DUKE follows them to a DOZEN
CANVASES, lined up with their backs to us.
DR. GONZO
Lucy paints portraits of Barbra
Streisand, don't you, Lucy?
LUCY
I drew these from TV.
DUKE
Fantastic.
(grabs GONZO)
Can we talk?
He drags him toward the PATIO.
LUCY
(makes one-fingered Jesus freak sign)
God bless.
SUITE PATIO EXT NIGHT
While they talk, they do DRUGS: a hit of coke from an
almost-empty salt-shaker, a roach, a couple of amyls.
DUKE
Are you insane? This girl is a
walking bomb. Ever heard of the
Mann Act? They'll hang you for
Rape and Consensual Sodomy!
DR. GONZO
No! I felt sorry for the girl! I
wanted to help her! Jesus, she's a
religious freak! She's running away
from home for something like the fifth
time in six months. I gave her some of
the acid I had stashed, and--
DUKE
You stupid bastard. Just picture
yourself telling a jury that you
tried to help this poor girl by
giving her LSD and then one of your
special stark naked back rubs.
DR. GONZO
You're right. They'd probably burn
me at the goddamn stake.
(shakes his head sadly)
Shit, it doesn't pay to try to help
somebody these days.
DUKE
Well. It'll probably work out. We
can keep her loaded and peddle her
ass at the drug convention.
THROUGH THE GLASS - LUCY is intent on another SKETCH OF
BARBRA
DUKE
She's perfect for this gig. The 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.
DR. GONZO
(aghast)
Jesus Christ, I knew you were sick,
but I never expected to hear you
actually say that kind of stuff.
DUKE
It's straight economics. This girl
is a godsend.
DUKE points at the WHITE WHALE in the parking lot.
DUKE
There it is. Not a bad-looking
car for a pimp.
DR. GONZO
Okay, okay. You're right. We
have to cut her loose. How about
this. We give her some money,
get her another hotel room on the
other side of town. She's so stoned,
she won't remember a thing--
DUKE
Maybe we should take it easy tonight.
DR. GONZO
Right. Let's find a good seafood
restaurant and eat some red salmon.
I feel a powerful lust for red salmon...
HOTEL FLAMINGO SUITE INT NIGHT
GONZO and DUKE enter, as LUCY proudly holds up her sketch.
DR. GONZO
(as DUKE gathers up PORTRAITS)
Okay, Lucy, it's time to go meet
Barbra...
DUKE V/O
I felt like a Nazi, but it had to
be done. Lucy was not right for us--
not in this fragile situation.
As GONZO hustles LUCY out of the room, DUKE uses the PHONE.
DUKE
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 high-strung...
ON THE STREETS, A CAB STAND EXT NIGHT
The WHITE WHALE pulls up, with DUKE at the wheel.
GONZO helps LUCY from the car into a CAB.
DUKE V/O
There was absolutely no choice but
to cut her adrift and hope her memory
was fucked.
GONZO gets back in the car.
DR. GONZO
Take off slowly. Don't attract
attention.
WHITE WHALE INT NIGHT
They pullout into traffic. A balmy desert night.
DR. GONZO
I gave the cabbie an extra five bucks
to make sure she gets there safe.
Also, I told him I'd be there myself
in an hour, and if she wasn't, I'd
come back out here and rip his lungs out.
DUKE
That's good, You can't be subtle
in this town.
DR. GONZO
As your attorney, I advise you to tell
me where you put the goddamn mescaline.
DUKE produces the KIT BAG. They swallow pellets down.
The STARS come up in the sky. They glide through the
streets.
HOTEL FLAMINGO SUITE INT NIGHT
RETCHING SOUNDS come from the bathroom. DUKE turns on the
TV. 1971 COMMERCIALS fill the screen.
DR. GONZO
(from bathroom)
This goddamn mescaline. Why the fuck
can't they make it less pure? Cut it
with Rolaids, or something.
DUKE notices the PHONE MESSAGE LIGHT blinking. Opens
another beer, picks up the phone.
DUKE
(to PHONE)
My light's blinking. You have
a message for me?
HOTEL FLAMINGO FRONT DESK INT NIGHT
CLERK
Yes. Mr. Duke. Three messages.
One says, "Welcome to Las Vegas from
the National District Attorneys'
Association"...and then Mr. Innes
called again about the ape...
HOTEL FLAMINGO SUITE INT NIGHT
DUKE
(to PHONE)
Good, good...
GONZO emerges from the bathroom, wipes his mouth with a
towel.
CLERK'S VOICE
(on PHONE)
...and the last one says, "Call Lucy
at the Americana, room 1600."
DUKE
WHAT?
CLERK'S VOICE
...Lucy, at the Americana...
DUKE
Holy shit.
(hangs up; GONZO looks at him)
Lucy called. Room 1600.
What I want to know is -- why
was the message for me? Why isn't
she looking for you?
DR. GONZO
(shrugs)
She really flipped over you. The only
way I could get rid of her was by saying
you were taking me out to the desert for
a showdown--that you wanted me out of
the way so you could have her all to
yourself. Shit, I had to tell her
something. I told her to go to the
Americana and wait and see which one
of us came back.
(laughs)
I guess she figures you won.
DUKE stares at him, aghast. The PHONE jangles.
DUKE
(to PHONE)
WHAT?
HOTEL FLAMINGO FRONT DESK INT NIGHT
CLERK
(to PHONE)
Mr. Duke? Mr. Duke, I'm sorry we
were cut off. I thought I should call
again, because I was wondering....
HOTEL FLAMINGO SUITE INT NIGHT
DUKE
(hand over the PHONE)
What has that crazy bitch said to him?
(to PHONE; screams)
We're watching the goddamn news! What
the fuck are you interrupting me for?
WHAT DO YOU WANT? Where's the goddamn
ice I ordered? Where's the booze?
There's a war on, man! People are
being killed!
HOTEL FLAMINGO FRONT DESK INT NIGHT
CLERK
(tentatively; to PHONE)
Killed?
DUKE'S VOICE
(on PHONE)
IN VIETNAM! ON THE GODDAMN TELEVISION!
CLERK
Oh...yes...yes...This terrible war.
When will it end?
HOTEL FLAMINGO SUITE INT NIGHT
DUKE
(quietly; to PHONE)
Tell me. What do you want?
CLERK'S VOICE
I thought I should tell you...
because I know you're with the
Police Convention...that the woman
who left that message for you
sounded very disturbed. Since I
know the nature of your work...
DUKE
(downs a quick CHIVAS REGAL)
I know. Look, you want to be very
gentle with that woman. She's our
case study. Controlled laudanum
experiment, we're watching her
carefully. I suspect we'll need
your cooperation before all this is
over --
CLERK'S VOICE
We're always happy to cooperate
with the police. As long as there's
no trouble --
DUKE
Don't worry. You're protected.
And now I have to get back to the news
Send the ice.
He hangs up. No NEWS on the TV. Only COMMERCIALS.
HOTEL FLAMINGO FRONT DESK INT NIGHT
Bemused, the CLERK hangs up the phone.
HOTEL FLAMINGO SUITE INT NIGHT
DUKE throws things in his leather case. GONZO fervently
flicks channels on the TV. Still only COMMERCIALS.
DR. GONZO
Good work. They'll treat us
like goddamn lepers after that.
What are you doing?
(no answer)
Jesus, you're not leaving7
DUKE
You're goddamn right, I'm leaving.
Look. I have nothing personal against
Lucy. I'm sure she's very sensitive
with a secret reserve of karma
underneath her Pit Bull act...and
not only is she stone crazy, but also
perfectly capable of SENDING US BOTH
TO PRISON FOR AT LEAST TWENTY YEARS.
(picks up his bag)
There is no other way to cope with it.
It is extremely important to get out
of town immediately.
DR. GONZO
(shouts)
WAIT! You can't leave me alone in this
snake pit! The room is in my name!
(DUKE heads for the door)
OK, goddamnit! I'll call her! I'll get
her off our backs. You're right. She's
my problem.
DUKE
No, it's gone too far.
DR. GONZO
You'd make a piss-poor lawyer. Relax.
Let me handle this.
(dials the PHONE)
Where's that opium?
DUKE
(tossing him the KIT BAG)
Be careful. There's not much left.
DR. GONZO
(to PHONE)
Room 1600, please.
As your attorney, I advise you not to
worry.
(nods toward bathroom)
Take a hit out of that little brown
bottle in my shaving kit.
DUKE goes in the bathroom, takes out the bottle.
DUKE
What is it?
DR. GONZO
Adrenochrome. You won't need much.
Just a tiny taste. That stuff makes
pure mescaline seem like ginger beer.
(to PHONE)
Hi, Lucy? Yeah, it's me. I got your
message...what? Hell, no, I taught the
bastard a lesson he'll never forget...
what? No, not dead, but he won't be
bothering anybody for awhile. Yeah.
I left him out there, stomped him,
pulled all his teeth out...
DUKE V/O
Jesus, I thought. What a terrible
thing to lay on somebody with a head
full of acid.
In the bathroom, DUKE dips a match head into the brown
bottle. He holds it up to the light. Studies it. Wonders
what it does. No idea. He decides to find out.
DR. GONZO
(to PHONE)
But here's the problem. I have to leave
here right away. That bastard cashed a
bad check downstairs and gave you as a
reference, so they'll be looking for both
of you. The last thing you want to do is
call this hotel again: they'll trace the
call and put you straight behind bars...
no, I'm moving to the Tropicana, I'll
call you when I know my room number,
sure, as soon as I check in...what?
Of course. We'll go to Circus Circus,
catch the polar bear act...no, listen,
I have to go, they've got the phone
tapped...O MY GOD! THEY'RE KICKING THE
DOOR OOWN!
DR. GONZO throws the PHONE down, shouts.
DR. GONZO
No! Get away! I'm innocent! It was
Duke! I swear to God!
(stomps the PHONE; moans)
You'll never catch Lucy! She's gone!
I swear, I don't know where she is!
DON'T PUT THAT THING ON ME!
(slams the PHONE down)
Well. That's that. She's probably
stuffing herself down the incinerator
about now. That's the last we should
be hearing from Lucy.
DUKE emerges from the bathroom. VEINS stand out on his
forehead. He is purplish-red. OVER THE TOP. Too late, he
realizes he is NEAR DEATH.
DR. GONZO
Goddamnit! You took too much!
You're about to explode! Jesus,
look at your face!
DUKE
(croaks)
Can't move. Maybe if I...took
a swim...
DR. GONZO
If I put you in the pool right now,
you'd sink like a stone. The first
rush is the worst. Don't try and fight
it, or you'll get brain bubbles.
Strokes, aneurisms. You'll just wither
up and die.
DUKE falls to the ground, writhing, catatonic, sinking into
paralysis.
DR. GONZO'S VOICE
Die...die...die...
BLACK SCREEN
And the sound, and then the HIDEOUS FACE and VOICE OF
RICHARD NIXON.
NIXON
Sacrifice...sacrifice...sacrifice...
SAME AN HOUR LATER
DUKE manages to flop his near-paralyzed body over.
GONZO watches NIXON on the late night news. He sees
DUKE attempt to struggle to his feet.
DR. GONZO
There's only one place we can get
fresh salmon. I checked while you were
on the floor.
DUKE
(croaks)
Where did you get...this stuff?
DR. GONZO
The adrenochrome? Only one source
for that stuff--
DUKE
The adrenaline glands...from a living
human body--
DR. GONZO
Monster client of mine. A Satanism
freak. No cash. He offered me this
instead. Told me it would make me
higher than I'd ever been in my life.
(laughs)
I thought he was kidding. They'd
nailed the guy for child molesting.
He swore he didn't do it. "Why should
I fuck with children?" he says. "They're
too small."
(shrugs)
What could I say? Even a goddamn
werewolf is entitled to legal counsel.
I didn't dare turn the creep down.
He might have picked up a letter opener
and gone after my pineal gland.
DUKE
We should get some of that. Pineal
gland. Just eat a big handful.
DR. GONZO
That's a good idea. One whiff of that
shit would turn you into something out
of a goddamn medical encyclopedia.
Man, your head would swell up like a
watermelon, you'd probably gain about a
hundred pounds in two hours...claws,
bleeding warts, then you'd notice about
six huge hairy tits swelling up on
your back...
(pause)
You want to go out to get that salmon,
or what?
DUKE
(croaks)
Yeah. Sure.
HE PITCHES HEAD FIRST ONTO THE BED.
BLACK SCREEN
LOUDSPEAKER VOICE
(crackling and booming)
On behalf of the prosecuting attorneys
of this country, I welcome you--
HOTEL BALLROOM INT DAY
A BIG CROWD. Both the COP CREAM OF MIDDLE AMERICA, and a
GOOD CONTINGENT OF UNDERCOVER NARCS. So cops dressed like
assistant football coaches next to cops with beards,
mustaches, super-mod dress.
A BANNER behind the PODIUM reads: NATIONAL DA'S CONVENTION.
APRIL 25-29, 1971. "If You Don't Know, Come To Learn...If
You Know, Come To Teach."
A dozen big, low-fidelity SPEAKERS mounted on STEEL POLES
distort and feed back the SPEAKER'S VOICE through the room.
In the rear fringes of the crowd, under a LOUDSPEAKER, sits
DUKE--clad in black FBI wingtip shoes, a Pat Boone madras
sportcoat, and an OFFICIAL NAME TAG: RAOUL DUKE, PRIVATE
INVESTIGATOR, L.A.
Next to him, DR. GONZO wears a double-breasted blue
pinstripe suit. His NAMETAG: DR. GONZO, EXPERT, CRIMINAL
DRUG ANALYSIS.
Both men wear SUNGLASSES.
DR. GONZO
This is a fucking nightmare. Here I
am infiltrating a goddamn Pig conference,
but sure as hell there's some dope-
dealing bomb freak in this town who's
going to recognize me and put the word
out that I'm out here partying with a
thousand cops.
DUKE
They're actually nice people. Once you
get to know them.
DR. GONZO
Know them? Are you kidding? Man, I know
these people in my goddamn blood!
The COPS stir restlessly around them.
DUKE
Don't mention that word around here.
You'll get them excited.
DR. GONZO
(lowers his voice)
You're right. I saw these bastards
in Easy Rider, but I didn't believe
they were real.
Taking FOUR MESCALINE PELLETS from his pocket, he passes two
to DUKE under cover of a CONFERENCE PROGRAM. Both men
cough, put hands to their mouths, swallow.
DR. GONZO
Cheers.
LOUDSPEAKER VOICE
We must come to terms with the Drug
Culture, and to help us do that.
today we have--
DUKE
We should have done this on acid.
DR. GONZO
Lucky I brought some...
COP IN BACK
SSSSHHHHH!
LOUDSPEAKER VOICE
Dr. E.R. Bloomquist, author of the
paperback book, Marijuana, which, as
those of us who've read know, really
tells it like it is--
ON THE PODIUM - The SPEAKER introduces DR. BLOOMQUIST, who
wears black wingtip shoes and a Pat Boone Madras sportcoat.
LOUDSPEAKER VOICE
Dr. Bloomquist.
POLITE APPLAUSE.
DR. BLOOMQUIST
Now, there are four states of being in
the cannabis, or marijuana, society:
Cool, Groovy, Hip, and Square. The
square is seldom if ever cool. He is
not "with it," that is, he doesn't know
"what's happening." But if he manages
to figure it out, he moves up a notch
to "hip."
DUKE
We need that acid now.
DR. GONZO
(passing it to him)
No shit.
Both cough again and swallow the blue barrels down.
DR. BLOOMQUIST
And if he can bring himself to approve
of what is happening, he becomes
"groovy." After that, with much luck and
perseverance, he can rise to the rank of
"cool." A "cool guy," as he's then
called, will use the slang of the Drug
Culture. He will call the reefer
butt a "roach," because it resembles
a cockroach. He will call sunglasses
"tea shades."
DR. GONZO
(whispers)
What the fuck are these people talking
about? You'd have to be crazy on acid
to think a joint looked like a goddamn
cockroach!
DUKE shrugs.
DR. GONZO
I'll be down in the casino. I know a
hell of a lot better ways to waste my
time than listening to this bullshit.
He stands, knocking the ASHTRAY off his chair arm, and
plunges down the aisle to the door.
COP IN BACK
Down in front!
DR. GONZO
Fuck you!
He stumbles from the room. DUKE turns his attention back to
DR. BLOOMQUIST...
DUKE V/O
It was clear we'd stumbled into
a prehistoric gathering.
DR. BLOOMQUIST
...about these LSD flashbacks, the
patient never knows: he thinks it's
all over and he gets himself straightened
out for SlX months, and then, darn it.
the whole trip comes back on him.
DUKE V/O
This is dangerous gibberish. The kind
that used to be posted, in the form of
mimeographed bulletins, in Police
Department locker rooms...
The LIGHTS go down. A SPOTLIGHT on DR. BLOOMQUIST. A SLIDE
SHOW behind him illustrates his now evangelical talk.
DR. BLOOMQUIST
KNOW YOUR DOPE FIEND! YOUR LIFE MAY
DEPEND ON IT!
A SLIDE of a DOPE FIEND appears, looking remarkably like
DR. GONZO.
DR. BLOOMQUIST
You will not be able to see his eyes
because of Tea-Shades, but his knuckles
will be white from inner tension and
his pants will be crusted with semen
from constantly jacking off when he
can't find a rape victim. He will
stagger and babble when questioned. He
will not respect your badge. The Dope
Fiend fears nothing. He will attack, for
no reason, with every weapon at his
command--including yours. BEWARE. Any
officer apprehending a suspected
marijuana addict should use all necessary
force immediately. One stitch in time
(on him) will usually save nine on you.
Good luck.
The AUDIENCE jumps to its feet, CHEERING LOUDLY. LIGHTS up.
DUKE looks around him. THE ROOM HAS RETURNED TO NORMAL.
The COP next to him sleeps, snoring loudly. DR. BLOQMQUIST
continues to drone on onstage.
A MOD COP dressed like Superfly raises his hand. Behind
him, the ranting POLICE CHIEF from the lobby necks with his
WIFE.
MOD COP
Do you think, Dr., that the strange
behavior recently of the anthropologist
Margaret Mead can be explained by a
private marijuana addiction?
DUKE leaps up and flees toward the door.
DUKE
(muttering apologies)
Pardon me, I feel sick. Beg pardon,
yes, feeling sick...
A PATH opens. He makes it to the door fast. As he goes--
DR. BLOOMQUIST
I really don't know. But at her
age, if she did smoke grass, she'd
have one hell of a trip.
BEHIND DUKE - The AUDIENCE roars with laughter.
FLAMINGO HOTEL BAR INT DAY
A TV on behind the bar with the sound off. The NEWS.
DUKE
(to BARTENDER)
Tall rum with ice.
(points to TV)
Sports on yet?
BARTENDER
(pours the drink)
Any second.
He turns up the volume. DUKE drinks, watches.
TV NEWSCASTER
(on TV)
...was arrested walking nude through the
neighborhood where he lived. Police said
he had taken an overdose of PCP, an
animal tranquilizer manufactured by
Parke-Davis. Charles told a jailer that
his eyes were bothering him and that he
could not read. Police said Charles
seemed to be in a deeply depressed state
and so impervious to pain that he did not
scream when he pulled out his own eyes...
DUKE lunges across the bar and CHANGES THE CHANNEL.
A FOOTBALL COACH being interviewed.
FOOTBALL COACH
(on TV)
...this rookie Fire has definite
promise. Yesterday, before practice.
he destroyed a Greyhound Bus with his
bare hands, and last night he killed
a subway. He's a natural for color TV...
MAN'S VOICE
I'm a whiskey man. myself. We don't have
much problem from drugs down where I come
from.
DUKE turns and sees DR. GONZO deep in conversation with TWO
GOOD OLD BOYS, whose name tags identify them as DISTRICT
ATTORNEYS FROM GEORGIA. The BARTENDER eavesdrops on their
conversation.
At that end of the bar, a LOUNGE BAND plays a medley of
anti-war songs.
DR. GONZO
(as DUKE joins them)
You will. One of these nights you'll
wake up and find a junkie tearing your
bedroom apart.
DA #1
Naw! Not down in my parts.
DUKE
(to BARTENDER)
Another rum, please.
DA #2
(looks at DUKE'S NAME TAG)
You're another one of these California
boys. Your friend here's been tellin'
us about dope fiends.
DUKE
They're everywhere. Nobody's safe.
And sure as hell not in the South.
They like warm weather.
DR. GONZO
They work in pairs. Sometimes in
gangs. They'll climb right into your
bedroom and sit on your chest with
big Bowie knives. On your WIFE'S chest.
Put the blade right down her throat.
DA #2
Jesus God almighty! What the hell's
goin' on in this country?
DR. GONZO
You'd never believe it. In L.A., it's
out of control. First it was drugs,
now it's witchcraft.
DA #2
Witchcraft? Shit, you can't mean it!
DUKE
Watch the news. Man, you don't know
trouble until you have to face down a
bunch of these addicts gone crazy for
human sacrifice!
DA #1
Naw! That's science fiction stuff!
DR. GONZO
Not where we operate. Hell, in Malibu
alone, these goddamn Satan worshippers
kill six or eight people every day.
DA #2
O my god! That's horrible!
DR. GONZO
They chop off their heads and drink
their blood. 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.
The BARTENDER, agitated, leans toward them.
DUKE
Four more rums. Plenty of ice. Maybe
a handful of lime chunks.
BARTENDER
Are you guys with the police convention
upstairs?
DA #1
(with a big smile)
We sure are, my friend.
BARTENDER
I thought so. I never heard that kind
of talk at this bar before. Jesus
Christ! How do you guys stand that kind
of work?
DR. GONZO
(grinning)
We like it. It's groovy.
The BARTENDER stares at them, his face frozen with
repugnance.
DUKE
What's wrong with you? Hell,
somebody has to do it.
DR. GONZO
Hurry up with those drinks. We're
thirsty. Only three rums. Make mine
a Bloody Mary.
DA #1
Hell, I really hate to hear this.
Because everything that happens in
California seems to get down our way,
sooner or later--
DUKE
Hell, yes. Just the other day we had a
case where they grabbed a girl right off
the street, out of a McDonald's hamburger
stand.
DA #1
(very agitated)
What happened?
DR. GONZO
Do? Jesus Christ man. They chopped
her goddamn head off right there in the
parking lot. Cut all kinds of holes in
her and sucked out the blood.
DA #2
God almighty! And nobody did anything?
DUKE
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 other had M-16s.
They were all veterans.
DR. GONZO
He used to be a major in the Marines.
We know where he lives, but we can't
get near the house.
DA #2 whacks his fist on the bar.
DA #2
But we can't just lock ourselves in the
house and be prisoners! We don't even
know who these people are! How do you
recognize them?
DR. GONZO
You can't. The only way to do it
is to go to the mat with this scum.
DA #1
What do you mean by that?
DR. GONZO
You know what I mean.
DUKE
Cut their goddamn heads off. Every one
of them. That's what we're doing in
California.
DA #1
WHAT?
DR. GONZO
Sure. It's all on the Q.T., but
everybody who matters is with us all
the way down the line.
DA #2
God! I had no idea it was so bad
out there!
DUKE
We keep it quiet. It's not the kind of
thing you'd want to talk about upstairs.
Not with the press around.
DA #1
Hell, no. We'd never hear the goddamn
end of it.
DUKE
Dobermans don't talk.
DR. GONZO
Those Satanists fight like hell if you
try to take their heads without dogs.
DA #2
God almighty!
DA #1
I could never tell my wife about this.
She'd never understand. You know what
women are.
DR. GONZO splits. DUKE rises, hand over his chest, as if
having a HEART TREMOR.
DUKE
Just be thankful your heart is
young and strong.
He shakes hands with the stunned DA'S.
DUKE V/O
It didn't make any difference that
we had heads full of mescaline and acid.
In scenes like this, there's not much
risk in acting like a king-hell freak.
ON THE STREETS OF LAS VEGAS EXT NIGHT
The WHITE WHALE cruises. DUKE, behind TEA-SHADES, drives.
DR. GONZO hurls abuse at passing cars and vomits out of the
window. Passing a bottle of rum back and forth, they go by
a NEON CASINO SIGN: GORILLA ACT NIGHTLY.
DUKE V/O
Vegas is so full of natural freaks--
people who are genuinely twisted--that
drugs aren't much of a problem.
Psychedelics are almost irrelevant in a
town where you can wander into a casino
and witness the crucifixion of a gorilla-
on a flaming neon cross that suddenly
turns into a pinwheel, spinning the beast
around in wild circles above the crowded
gambling action.
The WHITE WHALE pulls up beside a BLUE FORD.
TWO CONVENTIONEER COUPLES.
DR. GONZO
Hey there! You folks want to buy
some heroin?
The COUPLES don't react. Pretend he's not there.
DR. GONZO
Hey, honkies! Cheap heroin! This is
the real stuff! You won't get hooked!
You folks never talked to a vet before?
I just got back with it from Vietnam!
Pure scag! Jab it right in your fucking
eyeballs.
The MAN IN THE BACK SEAT, enraged, lunges against the glass,
trying to get at GONZO.
DR. GONZO
Shoot! Fuck! Scag! Blood!
Rape! Cheap! Communist!
DUKE hits the brakes, shooting GONZO against the dashboard.
The FORD surges ahead. DUKE makes a quick turn behind it,
almost losing control. He straightens it out, turns and
FISHTAILS again.
GONZO
(laughs madly)
Jesus Christ. That guy was trying
to bite me.
DUKE
I don't like the way this thing is
cornering...
They RACE away.
GAS STATION EXT NIGHT
TWO ATTENDANTS watch in horror as a THIRD ATTENDANT, under
DUKE's manic direction, pumps air into the WHITE WHALE'S
TIRES.
DUKE
Pump it up to 75! Make it 100!
THIRD ATTENDANT
They'll explode!
DUKE
These are experimental tires! I told
you! I'LL TAKE THE RESPONSIBILITY!
The ATTENDANT finishes, jumps back as the WHITE WHALE
SCREECHES out of the station, taking a corner in a very
stylish manner.
WHITE WHALE INT NIGHT
DUKE drives through the night.
DUKE
I could go for some coffee.
DR. GONZO
Right up here. Terry's Taco Stand
USA. Five tacos for a buck.
DUKE
I'd rather go somewhere where there's
one for 50 cents.
DR. GONZO
No, don't judge a taco by its price.
TACO STAND EXT NIGHT
The WHITE WHALE is parked at the window.
WAITRESS
May I help you?
DR. GONZO
Yeah. These tacos. Are they Mexican?
WAITRESS
We have tacos. I don't know how
Mexican they are.
DR. GONZO
I'll take five of them.
WAITRESS
(over her shoulder)
Five tacos, Lou.
DR. GONZO
As your attorney I advise you to get
the chiliburger.
DUKE
That's too heavy for me.
And a coffee.
WAITRESS
And a coffee. Anything else?
DR. GONZO
Yeah. Where are you from?
WAITRESS
New York.
DR. GONZO
And you've just been here a day.
WAITRESS
No, I've been here a while.
DR. GONZO
Where do you go around here?
Say you wanted to go swimming?
WAITRESS
In my backyard.
DR. GONZO
What's the address?
WAITRESS
Um, go to the... ah... the pool's
not open yet. Anything else?
DR. GONZO
Yeah. The American Dream. You know
where that is? We were told it was
somewhere in this area...
WAITRESS
Hey, Lou, you know where the American
Dream is?
(hands over bag)
Five tacos and a coffee.
LOU, the cook, appears.
LOU
The American Dream? You mean, like
a discotheque or something?
DR. GONZO
Sort of. We were told, take this
white Cadillac and go till you find
the American dream. It's somewhere
in the Las Vegas area.
LOU
Only place like that near here's
the Old Psychiatrist's Club.
Right off Paradise and Eastern.
WAITRESS
I think that place burned down.
LOU
They're just remodeling it.
WAITRESS
Oh.
DR. GONZO
Great tacos.
WAITRESS
Paradise and Eastern. You might
want to try there. I never heard
it called the American Dream, though.
DUKE
We'll find it. Thanks.
CUT TO:
PARADISE & EASTERN EXT DAWN
A burned-out concrete husk, obviously long-abandoned, on the
edge of the desert. DUKE and GONZO sit in the WHITE WHALE,
eating tacos as the sun rises behind them.
DUKE V/O
Five days in Las Vegas is like
five years anywhere else.
FLAMINGO HOTEL SUITE INT DAY
PAN OF THE ROOM. Total destruction. TEN FOOT MIRROR
SHATTERED. RED AND BLUE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS in the light
fixtures. USED TOWELS, stained with mustard, catsup, and
other vile substances, hang everywhere. Uneaten french
fries. COCONUT HUSKS. Dessicated HONEYDEW RINDS.
DR. GONZO'S BED, empty, is a rat's nest of burned bedding
and exposed stuffing.
The SOUNDS OF VOMITING come from a closet near the front
door.
DUKE, wired, sits on his bed, beer in hand, watching the TV.
A CAMPUS RIOT. SPIRO AGNEW lecturing the press.
DUKE V/O
I was feeling dangerously out of
phase with my surroundings. The room
looked like the site of some disastrous
zoological experiment involving whiskey
and gorillas. The general back-alley
ambience of the whole suite was so
incredibly foul that I figured I could
probably get away with claiming it was
some kind of "Life-slice" exhibit that
we'd brought down from Haight Street, to
show cops from other parts of the country
how deep into filth and degeneracy the
drug people will sink if left to their
own devices.
MORE SOUNDS OF VOMITING.
DUKE
(calls out)
Are you aware that you are vomiting
in the closet, and NOT in the bathroom?
DUKE V/O
(as the VOMITING continues)
Something ugly was about to happen.
I was sure of it.
(PHONE rings)
Jesus, what now? I could almost
hear the shrill voice of the manager,
Mr. Heem, saying the police were on
their way up to the room, and would I
please not shoot through the door when
they began kicking it down.
RRRIIINNNGGG. DUKE fatalistically shakes out his last two
speed pills and swallows them.
DUKE V/O
No, they wouldn't call first. Better
an ambush. Mace. No warning.
DUKE
(answers PHONE)
Yeah?
BRUCE INNES'S VOICE
(on PHONE)
Thompson? That guy with the ape you
wanted's agreed on a price. $750.
DUKE
What kind of greedhead are we dealing
with here? Last night it was four
hundred.
[PAGE 84 MISSING FROM THE SCREENPLAY]
DR. GONZO
(to DUKE)
She must have used a pass key. I was
polishing my shoes in the closet when I
noticed her sneaking in--so I took her.
DUKE shakes his head.
DUKE V/O
This time we'd gone too far. A hotel
employee. She would have to be dealt
with.
DUKE
(barks at the MAID)
What made you do it? Who paid you off?
DR. GONZO
You're part of it, aren't you! The
DOPE RING!
MAID
All I wanted to do was clean up your
room! I don't know anything about dope!
I swear to Jesus I never heard of that
stuff!
DR. GONZO seems to think, helps her to her feet.
DR. GONZO
Maybe she's telling the truth. Maybe
she's not part of it. Maybe she can
help.
MAID
Yes! I'll help you all you need,
officer! I hate dope!
DUKE
So do we, lady.
DR. GONZO
I think we should put her on the
payroll. Have her checked out.
See what she comes up with.
DUKE
Good idea. She's inside. She'll know.
(to MAID)
Would a thousand a month be enough?
MAID
A thousand what? Dollars? Oh Lord!
I'd do just about anything for that!
DUKE
You and a lot of other people. You'd
be surprised who else is on our payroll.
Right here in the hotel.
DR. GONZO
(hustling her out the door)
One phone call every day, just tell us
what you've seen. Don't worry if it
doesn't add up. That's our problem.
What's your name?
MAID
Alice. Just ring Linen Service and
ask for Alice.
DUKE
You'll be contacted. The password is
"One hand washes the other." The minute
you hear that, you say, "I fear nothing."
MAID
"I fear nothing."
DR. GONZO
Oh, and don't bother to make up the room.
Just leave a pile of towels and soap
outside the door exactly at midnight.
MAID
Whatever you say, gentlemen. I can't
tell you how sorry I am about what
happened...but it was only because
I didn't realize.
DR. GONZO
We understand. But it's all over
now. Thank God for decent people.
She SMILES as he shuts the door.
PAUSE. Then DUKE throws his stuff into his satchel and
swings it over his shoulder, heading for the door.
DUKE
Well, that's it. I suggest you
get us reservations on the next
airplane out of here.
DR. GONZO
Where are you going?
DUKE
To see a man about an ape.
FLAMINGO HOTEL ELEVATOR INT DAY
DUKE, sweating, watches the numbers.
DUKE V/O
We'd abused every rule, by now, that
Vegas lived by--abusing the tourists,
burning the locals, terrifying the help.
The authorities were perfectly capable,
under these circumstances, of sending
us both to prison for about twenty years.
FLAMINGO HOTEL BAR INT DAY
DUKE enters, failing to notice TWO AMBULANCE ATTENDANTS
carrying out an OLD MAN.
DUKE
(to BARTENDER)
Tequila.
(to himself)
I've got to get out of this place.
BRUCE INNES appears at his elbow.
INNES
Thompson? Bruce Innes.
DUKE
Look, where's the ape? I'm ready
to write a check. I'm kind of in a
hurry.
INNES
(shrugs)
Forget it. They just took him away.
He attacked an old man right here in
the bar. The creep started hassling the
bartender about "allowing barefoot rabble
in the place" and just then the ape let
out a shriek--so the old guy threw a beer
at him, and the ape went crazy, came out
of his seat like a jack-in-the-box and
took a big bite out of the old man's
head. The cops carne and took the ape
away. Sorry, man.
He shakes his head. CLOSE IN on DUKE, suddenly grief-
stricken.
DUKE V/O
I was stunned. I really wanted that ape.
I wanted to take the bastard back home on
the plane with me. Two first-class seats
- R. Duke and son. I thought about going
down to the jail and bailing it out.
But then I thought: better stay clear
of that jail.
DUKE
Forget the ape. I don't need him.
DUKE drinks, orders one more for the road.
DUKE V/O
No point hanging around this town
any longer.
TWO GRIZZLY-LOOKING BOUNCERS appear on either side.
BOUNCER #1
It's time to go.
DUKE
What?
They MARCH him out.
FLAMINGO HOTEL FRONT PORTICO EXT DAY
BOUNCER #2 whistles for the CARBOY to bring the WHITE WHALE.
BOUNCER #1
Where's your friend? The big spic?
DUKE
Look. I'm a Doctor of Journalism.
You'd never catch me hanging around
this place with a goddamn spic.
BOUNCER #1
(producing PHOTOGRAPHS)
What about these then?
The top one is of DUKE sitting next to GONZO at a table
in the Floating Bar. DUKE backs away, gets in the WHITE
WHALE.
DUKE
That's not me. That's a guy named
DUKE. He works for Rolling Stone.
A really vicious, crazy kind of person.
And that guy with him is a hit-man
for the Mafia in Hollywood...
At that moment DR. GONZO emerges from the hotel, closely
followed by SEVERAL UNIFORMED THUGS whom he has hired to
carry his luggage set, glassware, soap bars and other
acquisitions.
He hands each THUG a five-spot as they load the car, and
gets in beside DUKE.
DUKE takes off with a PEAL OF RUBBER on the hugely inflated
tires.
DR. GONZO'S VOICE
As your attorney I advise you drive
faster. We have fifteen fucking
minutes to get on that plane.
DESERT OUTSIDE LAS VEGAS EXT DAY
The WHITE WHALE sails through an intersection as the light
turns red.
GONZO paws over a map.
DR. GONZO
What are you doing? You were
supposed to turn back there!
He looks wildly around. They are on a deserted freeway.
running parallel to the airport runway.
DR. GONZO
Goddamnit! What are we doing
out here on this godforsaken
road? The airport is over there!
DUKE
Don't worry. I've never missed
a plane yet. Except once in Peru.
I was already checked out of the
country, through customs, but I
went back to the bar --
DUKE's story fades out as the WIND NOISE intensifies.
ANGLE ON DUKE'S WATCH, a skeleton-face Accutron.
DUKE V/O
There was only one way to make
it on time.
He hits the brakes and runs the WHALE down into the grassy
moat freeway divider. Wheels churning, he makes it up the
opposite bank, nose of the car straight up, then bounces
onto the freeway and keeps going right over a fence,
dragging it through a cactus field and onto the --
AIRPORT RUNWAY EXT DAY
DR. GONZO is frozen with fear.
DUKE continues his story.
DUKE
-- I woke up about two hours later
in a bar in downtown Lima. My luggage
was all stacked beside me. Nobody
had opened it --
They drive under a parked AIRPLANE. DUKE shouting above
the wind, tarmac noise, and jet engine whine.
DUKE
So I went back to sleep and caught
the first flight out, the next morning.
(checks his ACCUTRON)
Three minutes, fifteen seconds
before takeoff. Plenty of time.
I'll drop you next to the plane.
DR. GONZO
What about you?
DUKE
Better if we split up. They're
looking for two of us, remember?
DR. GONZO
No! I can't get out! They'll crucify
me! I'll have to take the blame!
DUKE
Just say you were hitchhiking to the
airport and I picked you up.
DR. GONZO
Why not? But for Christ's sake,
let's do it fast!
AT THE AIRPLANE
DUKE screeches up in front of the jetliner. GONZO jumps out
and whistles to the GROUND CREW. Astonished, they run up
and, in a flurry of five dollar bills, grab his luggage,
hustle it aboard the plane.
DUKE
Don't take any guff from these swine!
Remember! If you have any trouble
you can always send a telegram to
the Right People!
DR. GONZO saunters to the waiting plane.
Then he turns back and waves at DUKE.
DR. GONZO
Yeah... Explaining my Position.
Some asshole wrote a poem about that
once. It's probably good advice,
if you have shit for brains.
DR. GONZO climbs the steps, waving, like Jackie Kennedy.
DUKE
Right.
The plane door closes. The WHITE WHALE accelerates away.
LAS VEGAS CITY LIMITS EXT DAY
The WHALE races into the desert.
DESERT HIGHWAY EXT DAY
DUKE, drinking a BEER, drives the wrecked WHALE. A PIECE OF
THE FENCE flies out of the back seat as he takes a bump.
DUKE V/O
There was only one road back to L.A.
U.S. Interstate 15, just a flat-out
high speed burn through Baker and
Barstow and Berdoo, then on the
Hollywood Freeway straight into frantic
oblivion: safety, obscurity, just
another freak in the Freak Kingdom.
He passes a HIGHWAY PATROL CAR parked at the side of the
road. The PATROL CAR pulls out behind him, LIGHTS FLASHING.
DUKE V/O
Jesus, I thought--what would Horatio
Alger do in a situation like this?
He ACCELERATES. The SPEEDOMETER CLIMBS STEADILY.
FARTHER UP THE ROAD EXT DAY
The PATROL CAR screams after the WHITE WHALE.
DUKE V/O
Few people understand the psychology
of dealing with a highway traffic cop.
Your normal speeder will panic and
immediately pull over to the side when
he sees the big red light behind him...
apologizing, begging for mercy.
DUKE starts checking the side of the road for the RIGHT
EXIT. His TURN SIGNAL comes on.
DUKE V/O
This is wrong. It arouses contempt
in the cop heart. What you want to do
is accelerate. Mash it down and make the
bastard chase you at 120 to the next
exit. He won't know what to make of
your blinker-signal that says you're
about to turn right.
AN EXIT OFF-RAMP: AN UPHILL SIDE-LOOP. Speed sign says:
MAX SPEED 25.
DUKE heads for this.
DUKE V/O
The trick, at this point, is to suddenly
leave the freeway and take him into the
chute at no less than a hundred miles
an hour.
And so it happens. DUKE is ready for the chute, brakes with
some fancy heel-toe work, and comes smoothly to a stop at
the top of the ramp, while the PATROL CAR spins and
fishtails out of control before bouncing to a stop beside
him.
DUKE stands beside the WHITE WHALE, completely relaxed.
The HIGHWAY PATROLMAN, a handsome, clean-cut guy of about
thirty, gets out of the car, screaming.
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN
Just what the FUCK did you think you
were doing?
DUKE smiles.
DUKE V/O
Let him calm down. The idea is
to show him you were always in
control of yourself and your vehicle.
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN
May I see your license...please?
DUKE reaches for it. And BOTH MEN look down at the BEER CAN
he has forgotten in his hand.
DUKE V/O
I knew I was fucked.
The COP relaxes. Faintly smiles. Reaches out for DUKE's
wallet, then holds out his other hand for the BEER.
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN
Could I have that, please?
DUKE
Why not? It was getting warm anyway.
The HIGHWAY PATROLMAN takes it, pours out the beer. Both
MEN look automatically into the BACK SEAT of the WHITE
WHALE. A CASE OF BEER.
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN
(enjoying himself)
You realize it's a crime to--
DUKE V/O
My guilt was so gross and overwhelming
that explanations were useless.
DUKE
Yeah. I know. I'm guilty. I
understand that. I knew it was a
crime, but I did it anyway.
(shrugs)
Shit, why argue? I'm a fucking criminal.
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN
That's a strange attitude.
He looks at DUKE thoughtfully.
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN
You know--I get the feeling you could
use a nap. There's a rest area up ahead.
Why don't you pull over and sleep a
few hours?
DUKE V/O
I instantly understood what he was
telling me. But for some insane
reason, I shook my head.
DUKE
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.
The HIGHWAY PATROLMAN smiles.
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN
Okay. Here's how it is. What goes
into my book, as of noon, is that I
apprehended you...for driving too fast.
and advised you to proceed no further
than the next rest area...your stated
destination, right? Where you plan to
take a long nap. Do I make myself clear?
DUKE
(shrugs)
How far is Baker? I was hoping to
stop there for lunch.
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN
Not my jurisdiction. The city limits
are two-point-two miles beyond the rest
area. Can you make it that far?
DUKE
I'll try. I've been wanting to go to
Baker for a long time. I've heard a
lot about it.
The PATROLMAN gets in his CAR and starts it up. Leans out
the window.
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN
Excellent seafood. With a mind like
yours, you'll probably want to try the
land-crab. Try the Majestic Diner.
THE ROAD TO BAKER EXT DAY
DUKE drives PAST THE REST STOP.
DUKE V/O
I felt raped. The pig had done me
on all fronts and now he was going to
chuckle about it--on the west edge of
town, waiting for me to make a run for
L.A.
THE TURN-OFF FOR BAKER EXT DAY
DUKE turns and drives past the HITCHHIKER from the drive
out. The boy sees him and immediately DROPS HIS THUMB.
DUKE ignores him, drives on.
BAKER EXT DAY
The WHITE WHALE pulls up across from the MAJESTIC DINER.
DUKE looks around. The HARDWARE BARN beside him has a huge
red sign: BEER.
He goes in there.
HARDWARE BARN INT DAY
Filled with hardware and GOLD LIGHT - an idyllic,
Rockwellian scene.
DUKE V/O
Jesus Creeping God! Is there a
priest in this tavern? I want to
confess! I'm a fucking sinner!
Venal, mortal, carnal, major, minor--
whatever you want to call it. Lord...
I'm guilty.
DUKE enters, sits on a stool next to a WORKBENCH.
DUKE V/O
But do me this one last favor: just
give me five more high-speed hours
before you bring the hammer down: just
let me get off of this horrible desert.
The PROPRIETOR appears, smiling, from where he's been
working on an old REMINGTON TYPEWRITER. He steps into a
pool of GOLD SUNLIGHT.
DUKE
I know this is a mystic longshot.
No way you'd have Ballantine's Ale...
The PROPRIETOR smiles again and produces one from an ice
chest, along with an icy cold MASON JAR to drink it from.
PROPRIETOR
If it's not cold enough, I got some
chilling out back.
(pause)
Where you coming from?
DUKE
Las Vegas.
PROPRIETOR
Great town, that Vegas. I bet
you had good luck there. You're
the type.
DUKE
I know. I'm a triple Scorpio.
PROPRIETOR
A fine combination.
DUKE
Don't worry. I'm actually the
district attorney from Ignoto
county. Just another good American
like yourself.
The PROPRIETOR's smile disappears.
Wordlessly, he turns back to his work. His pretty TEENAGE
DAUGHTER appears and kisses him hello. They talk together,
ignoring DUKE.
Who feels ashamed.
He throws his money on the bench and leaves.
BAKER EXT DAY
DUKE reaches in the back seat of the WHITE WHALE for another
warm beer. Spots something on the floor. Dives for it.
ONE LAST AMYL CAPSULE.
Grabs it up and CRACKS IT UNDER HIS NOSE.
POUNDS HIS CHEST with the rush and LAUGHS LIKE A MADMAN.
ACROSS THE STREET - TWO YOUNG MARINES come out of the
MAJESTIC DINER.
DUKE starts the engine. Leans out and YELLS at the MARINES.
DUKE
GOD'S MERCY ON YOU SWINE!
Cackling, he takes off in the TRASHED, VOMIT-STREAKED WHITE
CADILLAC, with a ROAR and a CLOUD OF BLACK OILY SMOKE.
The TWO MARINES look after him, confused.
IN THE WHITE WHALE EXT DAY
Still laughing, DUKE cranks up the TAPE RECORDER, adjusts
his TEASHADES.
DUKE V/O
By the time I got back on the road.
my heart was full of joy. I felt
like a monster reincarnation of
Horatio Alger...a Man on the Move,
and just sick enough to be totally
confident.
DUKE leans back. ACCELERATES OUT OF FRAME.
I-15 EXT DAY
The WHITE WHALE dissolves into the white heat haze.
THE END