What kind of rat-bastard psychotic would play that song – right now, at this moment? We spent the rest of that night rounding up materials and packing the car. “Ok, get lost,” said the wine-tux-man. I tell you it’s wonderful to be here, man. … Hell, I forgot all about this beer; you want one?”, “Never mind. This time he wants it. Can you grasp that?” I was breathing heavily, feeling crazy, sweating into the phone. He was right! Jesus, we’re finished.”. Yes, no doubt about it … and why not? Johnny Depp, Benicio Del Toro, Craig Bierko. Stand in front of this fantastic machine, my friend, and for just 99¢ your likeness will appear, 200 feet tall, on a screen above downtown Las Vegas. I suspect it’s going to be a very difficult day.”, “Of course,” he said. “A black jeep? What a fool I was to defy him. Then it was quiet again. I want to confess! “They want me to go to Las Vegas at once, and make contact with a Portuguese photographer named Lacerda. This would be the shrewdest move of my life. “In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. The Ford Motor Company had come through, as promised, with a “press Bronco” and a driver, but after a few savage runs across the desert – looking for motorcycles and occasionally finding one – I abandoned this vehicle to the photographers and went back to the bar. The room was very quiet. There was no sound from the back seat. “Hang onto it,” I heard him say into the phone. And when the call came, I was ready. He would roll on the first turn, and take out four or five dune buggies – a Kamikaze trip. By the time the alarm goes off, I can be running full bore somewhere between Needles and Death Valley – jamming the accelerator through the floorboard and shaking my fist up at Efrem Zimbalist Jr. swooping down on me in his FBI/Screaming Eagle helicopter. I raced through town and found a telephone booth on the northern outskirts, between a Sinclair station and … yes … the Majestic Diner. …. But the race didn’t start until nine, so we had to kill about three long hours in the casino next to the pits, and that’s where the trouble started. And the golf shoes? I’ve known him for years, but he ripped us off – and you know what that means, right?”. He doesn’t look like you or me, right? A savage journey to the heart of the American dream, We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. Had we deteriorated to the level of dumb beasts? But together, no – we would blow it. Aaawww, Mama, can this really he the end? This shirt is gorgeous I love it thank you so much, €87.65 They had me. Or just think it? This is not even the story I was supposed to be working on. “The pit-men were bored.”, So the next weekend he flew up to Reno in a private plane, with a friend and two girls – all “special guests” of the GM. Yes, here they are.” I picked four amyls out of the tin box and handed two of them to my attorney. Was he ready for the vicious, time-consuming scene that was bound to come if he took me under arrest? Why push him? … down and out in Vegas, with amphetamine psychosis again? We had several narrow escapes: at one point I tried to drive the Great Red Shark into the laundry room of the Landmark Hotel – but the door was too narrow, and the people inside seemed dangerously excited. Along with this plastic briefcase that I suddenly noticed right beside me on the front seat. Now he has her.”. No … no hope of communication in this place. …, My attorney hunched around to face the hitchhiker. You’re a fucking narcotics agent! Never cross the Great Magnet. “Forget it,” I said. “The sporting press,” I yelled. “The Battle Hymn of Lieutenant Calley”: “… as we go marching on …When I reach my finalcampground, in that land beyond the sun,and the Great Commanderasks me …”, “… We responded to their rifle fire with everything we had …”. He knew all along. And the tape, Surrealistic Pillow, needed only to be flipped over. Try the Majestic Diner.”. “One mile,” the sign said. LOVE IT! The possibility of physical and mental collapse is very real now. Is he still alive? CynthiaMiller. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it to him.” I tossed my bag into the front seat of the Shark, wanting to leave before my stay of execution ran out. So I figured, well, just get this bugger back to Malibu, and it’s mine. We were too late, said a man in a wine-colored tuxedo; the house was already full – no seats left, at any price. By noon it was hard to see the pit area from the bar/casino, 100 feet away in the blazing sun. So I stuck with hash and rum for another six months or so, until I moved into San Francisco and found myself one night in a place called “The Fillmore Auditorium.” And that was that. I picked up the radio and noticed that it was also a tape recorder – one of those things with a cassette-unit built in. “Always quit winners,” he explained. Other factors—like placing an order on a weekend or a holiday—may end up pushing the arrival of your item beyond the estimated delivery date. “Turn up the fucking music!” he screamed. But what was the story? …. I could see myself lying in bed in the Mint Hotel, half-asleep and staring idly out the window, when suddenly a vicious nazi drunkard appears 200 feet tall in the midnight sky, screaming gibberish at the world: “Woodstock Uber Alles.”. I’m a fucking criminal.”, I stared at him, seeing for the first time that I was dealing with a bright-eyed young sport, around 30, who was apparently enjoying his work. Hell, the only reason they gave us the press passes was to get you out of there.”, He was pacing around nervously. What’s going on? It must be the drug. “They’ll be back around in an hour or so. “This won’t make the nut,” he said, “unless we have unlimited credit.”, I assured him we would. …. But I told him we had a Vincent Black Shadow. “You just backed over that two-foot concrete abutment and you didn’t even slow down! “Didn’t you get my telegram?”, “You’re supposed to be in Vegas,” he said. This place is like the Army: the shark ethic prevails – eat the wounded. Just another two bucks down the tube. Fuck him, I thought. “We’re with the factory team.”. Pretend you never saw it. The clerk was still smiling. “No more of that talk,” I said sharply. Shoot the pasties off the nipples of a ten-foot bull-dyke and win a cotton-candy goat.