"You ate this?" I asked, holding up the white pad.
He ignored me. But I knew. He would be very difficult to reach for the next six
hours. The whole blotter was chewed up.
"You evil son of a bitch," I said. "You better hope there's some thorazine in
that bag, because if there's not you're in bad trouble tomorrow."
"Music!" he snarled. "Turn it up. Put that tape on."
"The new one. It's right there."
I picked up the radio and noticed that it was also a tape recorder - one of
those things with a cassette - unit built in. And the tape, Surrealistic Pillow,
needed only to be flipped over. He had already gone through side one - at a
volume that must have been audible in every room within a radius of one hundred
yards, walls and all.
"'White Rabbit,"' he said. "I want a rising sound."
"You're doomed," I said. "I'm leaving here in two hours - and then they're going
to come up here and beat the mortal shit out of you with big saps. Right there
in the tub."
"I dig my own graves," he said. "Green water and the White Rabbit . . . put it
on; don't make me use this." His arm lashed out of the water, the hunting knife
gripped in his fist.
"Jesus," I muttered. And at that point I figured he was I help - lying there in
the tub with a head full of acidand the sharpest knife I've ever seen, totally
incapable of reason, demanding the White Rabbit. 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..
"OK," I said, turning the tape over and pushing the "play" button. "But do me
one last favor, will you? Can you give me two hours? That's all I ask - just two
hours to sleep before tomorrow. I suspect it's going to be a very difficult
"Of course," he said. "I'm your attorney. I'll give you all the time you need,
at my normal rates: $45 an hour - but you'll be wanting a cushion, so why don't
you just lay one of those $100 bills down there beside the radio, and fuck off?"
"How about a check?" I said. "On the Sawtooth National Bank. You won't need any
ID to cash it there. They know me."
"Whatever's right," he said, beginning to jerk with the music. The bathroom was
like the inside of a huge defective woofer. Heinous vibrations, overwhelming
sound. The floor was full of water. I moved the radio as far from the tub as it
would go, then I left and closed the door behind me.
FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS: A SAVAGE JOURNEY TO THE HEART OF THE AMERICAN DREAM
can't sleep. clowns will eat me.. ='[ me acordé recién. nah pero ya me voy muack...
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