|
} I knew this would happen as soon as they released 'Fear and Loathing
} in Las Vegas'; but did they ask me? No. Look, Hunter S. Thompson is
} a _professional_; unless you've had the proper training, you should
} not try to mix LSD, amyl nitrate and ether. And then washing it
} down with a fifth of that cheap gin--well, it's no wonder you can't
} remember anything. Well, all right, I'll tell you what happened.
} What's the last thing you recall?
}
} > Hello? Erm, I think you're at the wrong address. There's no fancy
} > dress party here.
}
} Well, you then proceeded to protest loudly that there was indeed
} a fancy dress party, since you wouldn't very well be standing out
} there in a panda outfit if there wasn't a fancy dress party, would
} you? After ten minutes of this, you slipped the maitr'd a great
} deal of the money you got from the sale of the little bottle with
} the word 'laxative' crossed out and the word 'heroin' scribbled
} in, and he seated you at a quiet little table in the back with a
} blond prostitute.
}
} This kept you happy for quite a while, and as you were tipping
} generously, the waiters were perfectly willing to keep delivering
} plate after plate of steamed mussels (fourteen in all, by my count)
} Then, you reached the realization that the prostitute's left breast
} implant was actually a transmitter, broadcasting information on
} your whereabouts to her masters in Singapore. Escaping to the
} restroom, you managed (with the aid of two more amyl nitrate poppers)
} to escape out the window
}
} The next hour and the small bottle of Jack Daniels were spent in
} wandering the streets, looking for a suitable taxi stand; the first
} three you passed by, concerned that all the drivers were homosexuals.
} At the fourth, you found an acceptable cab and convinced the driver
} (who by the way, despite your complaints, spoke flawless Polish.
} You were speaking Russian.) that it was critically important you
} find a pack of Dunhills, the brightly colored kind. In the cab,
} you decided that you were losing the 'edge' and took two more tabs
} of the orange sunshine, plus the remaining poppers.
}
} The cabby helped you get your cigarettes and the seven bags of 'Cool
} Ranch' flavored Doritos up to your suite, where you occupied the next
} hour and a quarter lighting one, then swinging it around in the dark
} to watch the trails. During this time, you discovered the room's wet
} bar and television remote control. You found reruns of 'Gilligan's
} Island' to be much more intense when watched with an ether-soaked
} pillowcase wrapped around your head, and narrowly escaped setting the
} entire hotel on fire when you tried to light the last cigarette while
} re-soaking the pillowcase; fortunately, you had used up all the matches
} and room service would not send up any more after you accused her of
} being Socialist (she was, but the way you said it made it sound dirty).
}
} At about a quarter past six, you discovered you still had half a
} bottle of diet pills left and went out to watch the sunrise; the sun
} having been up for most of an hour did not deter you. You found a
} pleasant tree to sit in to watch, cheering loudly at the good parts.
} You got out of the tree, found an all-night store that would sell
} you two packs of Camels and a box of Trojans, walked back to your
} hotel and straight into the ladies' room off the first-floor lobby;
} locked and barricaded the door behind you (fortunately, no one else
} was in the ladies' room at the time), vomited profusely (missing the
} toilet by only the narrowest of margins), and passed out for about
} three-quarters of an hour.
}
} That about brings you up to the present time. The Oracle suggests
} locating your pants before opening the door, and that your American
} Express card is not yet maxed out; you may still bluff your way
} through checkout.
}
} You owe the Oracle a case of Neutrogena soap and a bushel of
} grapefruit.
|
![[IO]](https://kinzler.com/picons/db/domains/org/internetoracle/unknown/face.gif){kind=small}
