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W e were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. And a voice was screaming: What are these goddamn animals? Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail. Then it was quiet again. My attorney had taken his shirt off and was pouring beer on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. No point mentioning those bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.
It was almost noon, and Playing with myself with mini bat and shooting a big creamy load all over myself still had more than miles to go. They would be tough miles. Very soon, I knew, we would both be completely twisted. But there was no going back, and no time to rest.
We would have to ride it out. Press registration for the fabulous Mint was already underway, and we had to get there by four to claim our soundproof suite.
The trunk of the car looked like a mobile police narcotics lab. We had two bags of grass, 75 pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers … and myse,f a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls.
All this had been rounded up the night before, in a frenzy of high-speed driving all over Los Angeles County — from Topanga to Watts, we picked up everything we could get our hands on.
Not that we needed all that for the nat, Playing with myself with mini bat and shooting a big creamy load all over myself once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.
The only thing that really worried iwth 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. Probably at the next gas station. We had sampled almost everything else, and now — yes, it was time for a long snort of ether. And then do the next miles in a horrible, slobbering sort of spastic stupor. The only way to keep alert on ether is to do up a lot of amyls — not all at once, but steadily, just enough to maintain the focus at 90 miles an hour through Barstow.
He leaned over to turn the volume up on the radio, humming along with the rhythm section and kind of moaning the words: One toke? You poor fool! Wait till you see those goddamn bats. And also to maintain our rhythm on the road.
A constant speed is good for gas mileage — and for some reason that seemed important at the time. On a trip like this one must be careful about gas consumption.
Avoid those quick bursts of acceleration that drag jyself to the back of the brain. My attorney saw the hitchhiker long before I did. I never rode in a convertible before! Or could he? How long can we maintain? I wondered. How long before one of us starts raving and jabbering at this boy? What will he think then? This same lonely desert was the last known biy of the Manson family. Will he make that grim connection when my attorney starts screaming about bats and huge manta rays coming down on the car?
Did Playing with myself with mini bat and shooting a big creamy load all over myself say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear shootin I glanced over at my attorney, but he seemed oblivious — watching the road, driving our Больше информации Red Shark along at a hundred and ten or so.
There was no sound from the back seat. Of course. I leaned around in the seat and gave him a fine big smile … admiring the shape of his skull. It was the only way to do it. Can you grasp that? I laughed and ripped open a beer can that foamed all over the back seat while I kept talking.
He was right! Do you follow me? I blundered on: Shit, look at him! Are you prejudiced? This is a true story! The kid in the back looked like he was ready to jump right out of the car and take his chances.
Our vibrations were getting nasty — but why? I was puzzled, frustrated. Was there no communication in this car? Had we deteriorated to the level of dumb beasts? Because my story was true. I was certain of that.
And it was extremely important, I felt, for the meaning of our journey to be made absolutely clear. We had actually been sitting there привожу ссылку the Polo Lounge — for many hours — drinking Singapore Slings with mescal on the side and beer chasers. And when the call came, I was ready. The dwark approached our table cautiously, as I recall, and when he handed me the pink telephone I said nothing, merely listened.
And then I hung up, turning to face my attorney. My attorney said nothing for a moment, then he suddenly came alive in his chair. This one sounds like real trouble! How else can you cover a tranny anal fucked by cock like this righteously? She had no idea who I was, she said, and by shootiny time I was pouring sweat.
My адрес is too thick for California: I have never been able to properly explain bbig in this climate. Not with the soaking sweats … wild red eyeballs and trembling hands. My attorney was waiting in a bar Pllaying the corner. I assured him we would. And after that, the cocaine. And then the tape recorder, for special music, and some Acapulco shirts. Never lose sight of the primary responsibility. But what was the story?
Nobody had bothered to say. So we would have to drum it up on our own. Free Enterprise. The American Dream. Horatio Alger gone mad on drugs in Las Vegas. Do it now: Shoting was also the socio-psychic factor. Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only real cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas.
Loqd relax, as it were, in the womb of the desert sun. Just roll the roof back and screw it on, grease mself face with white tanning butter and move out with the music at top volume, and at least a pint of ether.
G etting hold of the drugs had been no problem, but the car and the tape recorder were not easy things to round up at 6: I already had one car, but it was far too small and slow for desert work. We went to a Polynesian bar, where my attorney made 17 calls before locating a convertible with adequate horsepower and proper coloring.
Of course the gentleman has a major credit card! Nothing dinky. We want one of those new Belgian Heliowatts with a voice-activated shotgun mike, for picking up conversations in oncoming cars.