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Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas :: Thompson Hunter S.
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I stared athim, keeping a firm grip on the radio. “Not me,” I said finally. “I’d be happy to ram a goddamn 440 - volt cattle prod into that tub with you right now, but not this radio. It would blast you right through the wall - stone - dead in ten seconds.” I laughed. “Shit, they’d make me explain it - drag me down to some rotten coroner’s inquest and grill me about.. yes… the exact details. I don’t need that.”
“Bullshit!” he screamed. “Just tell them I wanted to get Higher!”
I thought for a moment. “Okay,” I said finally. “You’re right. This is probably the only solution.” I picked up the tape/radio - which was still plugged in - and held it over the tub. “Just let me make sure I have it all lined up,” I said.
“You want me to throw this thing into the tub when ‘White Rabbit’ peaks - is that it?”
He fell back in the water and smiled gratefully. “Fuck yes,” he said. “I was beginnjng to think I was going to have to go out and get one of the goddamn maids to do it.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Are you ready?” I hit the “play” button and “White Rabbit” started building again.
Almost immediately he began to howl and moan… another fast run up that mountain, and thinking, this time, that he would finally get over the top. His eyes were gripped shut and only his head and both kneecaps poked up through the oily green water.
I let the song build while I sorted through the pile of fat ripe grapefruit next to the basin. The biggest one of the lot weighed almost two pounds. I got a good Vida Blue faitball grip on the fucker - and just as “Whit. Rabbit” peaked Ilashed it into the tub like a cannonball.
My attorney screamed crazily, thrashing around in the tub like a shark after meat, churning water all over the floor as he struggled to get hold of something.
I jerked the AC cord out of the tape/radio and moved out of the bathroom very quickly… the machine kept on playing, but now it was back on its own harmless battery power. I could hear the beat cooling down as I moved across the room to my kitbag and fetched up the Mace can… just as my attorney ripped the bathroom door open and started out. His eyes were still unfocused, but he was waving the blade out in front of him like a man who meant to cut something.
“Mace!” I shouted. “You want this?” I waved the Mace bomb in front of his watery eyes.
He stopped, “You bastard!” he hissed. “You’d do that, wouldn’t you?”
I laughed, still waving the bomb at him. “Why worry? You’ll like it.
I stared athim, keeping a firm grip on the radio. “Not me,” I said finally. “I’d be happy to ram a goddamn 440 - volt cattle prod into that tub with you right now, but not this radio. It would blast you right through the wall - stone - dead in ten seconds.” I laughed. “Shit, they’d make me explain it - drag me down to some rotten coroner’s inquest and grill me about.. yes… the exact details. I don’t need that.”
“Bullshit!” he screamed. “Just tell them I wanted to get Higher!”
I thought for a moment. “Okay,” I said finally. “You’re right. This is probably the only solution.” I picked up the tape/radio - which was still plugged in - and held it over the tub. “Just let me make sure I have it all lined up,” I said.
“You want me to throw this thing into the tub when ‘White Rabbit’ peaks - is that it?”
He fell back in the water and smiled gratefully. “Fuck yes,” he said. “I was beginnjng to think I was going to have to go out and get one of the goddamn maids to do it.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Are you ready?” I hit the “play” button and “White Rabbit” started building again.
Almost immediately he began to howl and moan… another fast run up that mountain, and thinking, this time, that he would finally get over the top. His eyes were gripped shut and only his head and both kneecaps poked up through the oily green water.
I let the song build while I sorted through the pile of fat ripe grapefruit next to the basin. The biggest one of the lot weighed almost two pounds. I got a good Vida Blue faitball grip on the fucker - and just as “Whit. Rabbit” peaked Ilashed it into the tub like a cannonball.
My attorney screamed crazily, thrashing around in the tub like a shark after meat, churning water all over the floor as he struggled to get hold of something.
I jerked the AC cord out of the tape/radio and moved out of the bathroom very quickly… the machine kept on playing, but now it was back on its own harmless battery power. I could hear the beat cooling down as I moved across the room to my kitbag and fetched up the Mace can… just as my attorney ripped the bathroom door open and started out. His eyes were still unfocused, but he was waving the blade out in front of him like a man who meant to cut something.
“Mace!” I shouted. “You want this?” I waved the Mace bomb in front of his watery eyes.
He stopped, “You bastard!” he hissed. “You’d do that, wouldn’t you?”
I laughed, still waving the bomb at him. “Why worry? You’ll like it.