Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
DUKE They’ve nailed me! I’m trapped in some stinking desert crossroads called Baker. I don’t have much time. The fuckers are closing in. They’ll hunt me down like a beast! 61.
INT. GONZO’S OFFICE – DAY
GONZO sits surrounded by legal papers and law books. Mexican Day of the Dead masks hang from the walls — flame-red demons.
GONZO Who? You sound a little paranoid.
EXT. BAKER TRUCK STOP – DAY
DUKE screams — sweat pouring.
DUKE You bastard! I need a lawyer immediately!
INT. GONZO’S OFFICE – DAY
GONZO What are you doing in Baker? Didn’t you get my telegram?
EXT. BAKER TRUCK STOP – DAY
DUKE What? Fuck telegrams. I’m in trouble. You worthless bastard. I’ll cripple your ass for this! All that shit in the car is yours! You understand that? When I finish testifying out here you’ll be disbarred!
INT. GONZO’S OFFICE – DAY
GONZO You’re supposed to be in Vegas. We have a suite at the Flamingo. I was just about to leave for the airport.
INT. BAKER TRUCK STOP – DAY
DUKE pulls out the telegram from his top pocket.
GONZO’S VOICE You brainless scumbag! You’re supposed to be covering the National District Attorney’s conference! I made all the reservations… rented a white Cadillac convertible… the whole thing is arranged! What the hell are you doing out there in the middle of the fucking desert? 62.
DUKE stares at the telegram.
DUKE Never mind. It’s all a big joke. I’m actually sitting beside the pool at the Flamingo. I’m talking from a portable phone. Some dwarf brought it out from the casino. I have total credit! Can you grasp that? (shouts) Don’t come anywhere near this place! Foreigners aren’t welcome here!
DUKE, breathing heavily, hangs up phone.
EXT. DESERT – DAY
C/U of .357 Magnum cylinder being spun.
DUKE (V/O) Well. This is how the world works.
C/U An IGUANA basks in the sun.
DUKE (V/O) All energy flows according to the whims of the Great Magnet.
C/U Barrel of the gun. It fires. An explosion of desert dirt.
DUKE (V/O) What a fool I was to defy Him.
The IGUANA sits unfazed.
DUKE (V/O) Never cross the Great Magnet. I understood this now… (another blast from the gun) … and with understanding came a sense of almost terminal relief.
DUKE stands alone in the vast desert firing at nothing, the thuds of the explosions echo away.
EXT. ROAD INTO VEGAS – DAY
The RED SHARK driving back towards Las Vegas. 63.
DUKE (V/O) I had to get rid of The Shark. Too many people might recognize it… …especially the Vegas Police. (tight C/U of DUKE) Luckily, my credit card was still technically valid.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL:
DUKE, now driving a white Cadillac Coupe de Ville — THE WHITE WHALE.
DUKE pushes buttons — lowers the top.
DUKE (V/O) This was a superior machine — ten grand worth of gimmicks and high price special effects. The rear windows leapt up with a touch like frogs in a dynamited pond. The dashboard was full of esoteric lights and dials and meters that I would never understand.
EXT. FLAMINGO HOTEL – AFTERNOON
A GIANT SIGN: THE FLAMINGO WELCOMES THE NATIONAL DA’S CONFERENCE ON NARCOTICS & DANGEROUS DRUGS.
DUKE (V/O) If the Pigs were gathering in Vegas, I felt the Drug Culture should be represented as well… and there was a certain bent appeal in the notion of running a savage burn on one Las Vegas hotel and then just wheeling across town and checking into another.
The WHITE WHALE turns into a VIP parking slot, immediately attended by impressed MINIONS.
DUKE (V/O) Me and a thousand ranking cops from all over America. Why not? Move confidently into their midst.
INT. FLAMINGO HOTEL LOBBY – AFTERNOON
DUKE enters — old Levis, grubby sneakers, 10 peso Acapulco shirt coming apart at the seams, 3 day growth, eyes hidden behind mirror shades. He heads for the check-in line. 64.
DUKE (V/O) My arrival was badly timed.
THE PLACE IS FULL OF COPS. 200 of them, on vacation, all dressed in cut price Vegas casuals: plaid Bermuda shorts, Arnie Palmer golf shirts, and rubberized beach sandals.
Ahead of DUKE — A POLICE CHIEF argues with the DESK CLERK. The POLICE CHIEF’S AGNEW STYLE 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.
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…
POLICE CHIEF I’ve already paid for my goddamn room!
CLERK It’s actually a very fine place of lodging and only sixteen blocks from here, with its own pool and…
POLICE CHIEF You dirty little faggot! Call the manager! I’m tired of listening to this dogshit!
FRIENDS restrain the POLICE CHIEF.
CLERK (solicitously) I’m so sorry, sir. May I call you a cab?
The POLICE CHIEF’s screamed insults fade away…
DUKE (V/O) Of course, I could hear what the Clerk was really saying… 65.
CLERK (IN DUKE’S IMAGINATION) 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. “Fuck you, officer, I’m in charge here, and I’m telling you we don’t have room for you.”
DUKE steps to the desk, around the raging POLICE CHIEF.
DUKE Say. I hate to interrupt, but I wonder if maybe I could just sort of slide through and get out of your way. Name’s Raoul Duke — Raoul Duke. My attorney made the reservation.
DUKE snaps a credit card down onto the counter. EVERYONE goes silent. The POLICE CHIEF GROUP stares at him like he was some kid of water rat crawling up to the desk. The CLERK hits the bell for the BELLBOY.
CLERK Certainly, Mr. Duke!
DUKE My bags are out there in that white Cadillac convertible. Can you have someone drive it around to the room?
ALL EYES turn to the gleaming WHITE WHALE.
DUKE Oh, and could I get a quart of Wild Turkey, two fifths of Baccardi, and a night’s worth of ice delivered to my room, please?
CLERK Don’t worry about a thing, sir. Just enjoy your stay.
DUKE Well, thank you.
DUKE gives the POLICE CHIEF a polite smile — crosses to the elevator — turns to face the GAWPING COPS — pops a can of beer and toasts them. The doors close. 66.
INT. HOTEL FLAMINGO – CORRIDOR OUTSIDE SUITE – DAY
DUKE rams the key home — swings the door open.
DUKE Ah, home at last!
INT. HOTEL FLAMINGO SUITE – AFTERNOON
DUKE enters. The door hits something with a thud.
A 16-year-old GIRL with the aura of an angry Pit Bull.
GONZO stands in the bathroom doorway — stark naked with a drug-addled grin on his face.
DUKE You degenerate pig!
GONZO It can’t be helped. This is Lucy. (laughing distractedly) You know–like “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds.”
LUCY eyes DUKE venomously.
GONZO Lucy! Lucy, be cool, goddamnit! Remember what happened at the airport! No more of that, okay?
LUCY keeps her eyes on DUKE. GONZO idles over and puts his arm round her shoulder.
GONZO Lucy… this is my client. This is Mr. Duke, the famous journalist. He’s paying for this suite, Lucy. He’s on our side.
DUKE flops onto the sofa.
GONZO Mr. Duke is my friend. He loves artists.
DUKE notices for the first time that the room is full of artwork. Maybe 40 or 50 portraits, some in oil, some in charcoal, all more or less the same size and same face.
GONZO Lucy paints portraits of Barbra Streisand. 67.
LUCY I drew these from TV.
GONZO Fantastic. She came all the way down here from Montana just to give these portraits to Barbra. We’re going over to the Americana Hotel tonight to meet her backstage…
DUKE’s voice rises above GONZO.
DUKE (V/O) I desperately needed peace, rest, sanctuary. I hadn’t counted on this. Finding my attorney on acid and locked into some kind of preternatural courtship.
DUKE Well, I guess they brought the car round by now. LET’S GET THE STUFF OUT OF THE TRUNK.
DUKE fixes GONZO hard.
GONZO Absolutely, LET’S GET THE STUFF. (to LUCY) Now, we’ll be right back. Don’t answer the phone if it rings.
