Holy Jesus. What are these goddamn animals? —
Suddenly, there was a terrible roar all around us, and the sky was full with what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, and a voice was screaming: Raoul Duke! Holy Jesus. What are these goddamn animals? —
Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. A normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow. But he won’t know what to make of your blinker signal that says you are about to turn right. This is to let him know you’re pulling off for a proper place to talk. It will take him a moment to realize that he’s about to make a 180 degree turn at speed, but you will be ready for it. Brace for the g’s, and fast heel-toe work. —
We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, laughers, screamers… Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get into locked a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me 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, and I knew we’d get into that rotten stuff pretty soon. —
What? No. We can’t stop here. This is bat country. —
How long could we maintain? I wondered. How long until one of us starts raving and jabbering at this boy? What will he think then? This same lonely desert was the last known home 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? If so, well, we’ll just have to cut his head off and bury him somewhere, ’cause it goes without saying that we can’t turn him loose. He’d report us at once to some kind of outback Nazi law enforcement agency and they’ll run us down like dogs. Jesus, did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me? —
You better take care of me, Lord. If you don’t you’re gonna have me on your hands. —
Raoul Duke: There’s a uh, big machine in the sky, some kind of, I dunno, electric snake, coming straight at us. —
Dr. Gonzo: Shoot it.
Raoul Duke: Not yet, I want to study its habits.
I was right in the middle of a fucking reptile zoo, and somebody was giving booze to these goddamn things. Won’t be long now before they tear us to shreds. —