Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas   ::   Thompson Hunter S.

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One Army intelligencespecialist

iid the pistol slaying of his Chinese interpreter was de -

by a superior who said, “She was just a slope,

Lyway,” meaning she was an Asiatic…

Right underneath that story was a headline saying: FIVE

WOUNDED NEAJi NYC TENEMENT… by an unidentified

gunman who fired from the roof of a building, for no apparent reason. This item appeared just above a headline that said:

PHARMACY OWNER ARRESTED IN PROBE… “a

result,” the article explained, “of a preliminary investigation (of a Las Vegas pharmacy) showing a

shortage of over 100,000 pills considered dangerous drugs…

Reading the front page made me feel a lot better. Against that heinous background, my crimes were pale and meaningless. I was a relatively respectable citizen - a multiple felon, perhaps, but certainly not dangerous. And when the Great Scorer came to write against my name, that would surely make a difference.

Or would it? I turned to the sports page and saw a small item about Muhammad Ali; his case was before the Supreme Court, the final appeal. He’d been sentenced to five years in prison for refusing to kill “slopes.”

“I ain’t got nothin’ against them Viet Congs,” he said.

Five years.

10. Western Union Intervenes: A Warning from Mr. Heem… New Assignment from the Sports Desk and a Savage Invitation from the Police

10. Western Union Intervenes: A Warning from Mr. Heem… New Assignment from the Sports Desk and a Savage Invitation from the Police

Suddenly I felt guilty again. The Shark! Where was it? I tossed the paper aside and began to pace. Losing control. I felt my whole act slipping… and then I saw the car, swooping down a ramp in the next - door garage.

Deliverance! I grasped my leather satchel and moved forward to meet my wheels.

“MISTER DUKE!”

The voice came from over my shoulder.

“Mister Duke! We’ve been looking for you!”

I almost collapsed on the curb. Every cell in my brain and body sagged. No! I thought. I must be hallucinating. There’s nobody back there, nobody calling… it’s a paranoid delusion, amphetamine psychosis… just keep walking towards the car, always smiling…

“MISTER DUKE! Wait!”

Well… why not? Many fine books have been written in on. And it’s not like I’ll be a total stranger up there in Carson City. The warden will recognize me; and the Con Boss - I once interviewed them for The New York Times.

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