Reply #15: Fear and Loathing: Killed a rabbit; attacked by bats; busted by the police

[Nevernose]

"Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" could very well be the biography of my life.

There were three of us, and fifteen hits of Krusty the Klown acid. We decided to drive out to Valley of Fire State Park. The radio was a hack job, so it kept shooting sparks out on the other two dudes in the cab of my truck. I was driving and stripping the wires at the same time.

They moved to the bed of the truck after the fire in my dashboard. I never even slowed down. Pussies.

Back there, they discovered that I had bad breaks. No pads, just calipers grinding on discs, this really horrible gates-of-hell sort of noise, and sparks shooting out the back.

The whole time I'm cruising down this dark desert highway, with flames and growling noises coming from underneath, more flames coming from the cab, and I'm weaving like a madman to avoid all of the fucking jackrabbits who have frozen in my headlights. These bastards are screaming and pounding on the back window; one of them is in tears, the fear is so bad. I'm laughing, having repaired the radio just enough to play "Best of the Doobie Brothers," but the tape is playing too slowly, like a record on the wrong speed. It doesn't matter though, because I'm screaming "PUSSIES!" every time they beg me to slow down.

Eventually I hit a rabit. Everyone feels the thump. Eventually I stop and back up; what if it's in pain? It is.

It's laying there with some kind of injury on its stomach, unable to move, obviously in excrutiating pain.

One of my friends -- the lesser pussy -- says, "I used to go rabbit hunting back home in Utah all the time. There's a thing you do if it's not a clean kill. You grab it firmly by the ears and jerk, until its head breaks."

So there we are, tripping out balls off, while this guy is swinging this fucking mewling rabbit all over the place, sreaming like crazy, and guts start flying all over the place. Yards of intestines over everything. And we're so fucking high that we can't tell where the intestines end and the tracers are beginning.

Anyway, to make a long story short, there are bats in the desert. Bats are attracted to invisible bugs hovering next to your hair. It's hard to see a bat in the dark, especially when they're swooping at your face. So, there we were, on top of Atlatl Rock, beneath the ancient pictograms, fighting off this invisible horde of swooping bats. It was like fighting at a psychedelic Alamo.

Eventually the park rangers showed. They even let us go, as long as we promised not to stop until we left their park (which really wasn't a problem, as we had no breaking mechanism to speak of). Mostly, they just couldn't figure out what we were on, so they had to let us go.