thunter.fearloathinglasvegas-第27部分

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　　But　it　couldn't　last　much　longer。　The　room　was　full　of　used　towels；　they　were　hanging　everywhere。　The　bathroom　floor　was　about　six　inches　deep　with　soap　bars；　vomit；　and　grape　fruit　rinds；　mixed　with　broken　glass。　I　had　to　put　my　boots　on　every　I　went　in　there　to　piss。　The　nap　of　the　mottled　grey　rug　was　so　thick　with　marijuana　seeds　that　it　appeared　to　be　turning　green。
　　The　general　back…alley　ambience　of　the　suite　was　so　rotten；　so　incredibly　foul；　that　I　figured　I　could　probably　get　away　with　claiming　it　was　some　kind　of　〃Life…slice　exhibit〃　that　we'd　brought　down　from　Haight　Street；　to　show　cops　from　other　parts　of　the　country　how　deep　into　filth　and　degeneracy　the　drug　people　will　sink；　if　left　to　their　own　devices。
　　But　what　kind　of　addict　would　need　all　these　coconut　husks　and　crushed　honeydew　rinds？　Would　the　presence　of　junkies　account　for　all　these　uneaten　french　fries？　These　puddles　of　glazed　catsup　on　the　bureau？
　　Maybe　so。　But　then　why　all　this　booze？　and　these　crude　pornographic　photos；　ripped　out　of　pulp　magazines　like　Whores　of　Sweden　and　Orgies　in　the　Casbah；　that　were　plastered　on　the　broken　mirror　with　smears　of　mustard　that　had　dried　to　a　hard　yellow　crust。。。and　all　these　signs　of　violence；　these　strange　red　and　blue　bulbs　and　shards　of　broken　glass　embedded　in　the　wall　plaster　。。。
　　No；　these　were　not　the　hoofprints　of　your　normal；　godfearing　junkie。　It　was　far　too　aggressive。　There　was　evidence；　in　this　room；　of　excessive　consumption　of　almost　every　type　of　drug　known　to　civilized　man　since　1544　A。D。　It　could　only　be　explained　as　a　montage；　a　sort　of　exaggerated　medical　exhibit；　put　together　very　carefully　to　show　what　might　happen　if　twenty…two　serious　drug　felons…each　with　a　different　addiction…were　penned　up　together　in　the　same　room　for　five　days　and　nights；　without　relief。
　　Indeed。　But　of　course　that　would　never　happen　in　Real　Life；　gentlemen。　We　just　put　this　thing　together　for　demonstration　purposes。。。
　　Suddenly　the　phone　was　ringing；　jerking　me　out　of　my　fantasy　stupor。　I　looked　at　it。　Riiiinnnnnggggggg。。。Jesus；　what　now？　Is　this　it？　I　could　almost　hear　the　shrill　voice　of　the　Manager；　Mr。　Heem；　saying　the　police　were　on　their　way　up　to　my　room　and　would　I　please　not　shoot　through　the　door　when　they　began　kicking　it　down。
　　Riinnnngggg。。。No；　they　wouldn't　call　first。　Once　they　decided　to　take　me；　they　would　probably　set　an　ambush　in　the　elevator：　first　Mace；　then　a　gang…swarm。　It　would　e　with　no　warning。
　　So　I　picked　up　the　phone。　It　was　my　friend　Bruce　Innes；　calling　from　the　Circus…Circus。　He　had　located　the　man　who　wanted　to　sell　the　ape　I'd　been　inquiring　about。　The　price　was　750。
　　〃What　kind　of　a　greedhead　are　we　dealing　with　here？〃　I　said。　〃Last　night　it　was　four　hundred。〃
　　〃He　claims　he　just　found　out　it　was　housebroken；〃　said　Bruce。　〃He　let　it　sleep　in　the　trailer　last　noght；　and　the　thing　actually　shiot　in　the　shower　stall。〃
　　〃That　doesn't　mean　anything；〃　I　said。　〃Apes　are　attracted　to　water。　Next　time　it'll　shit　in　the　sink。〃
　　〃Maybe　you　should　e　down　and　argue　with　the　guy；〃　said　Bruce。　〃He's　here　in　the　bar　with　me。　I　told　him　you　really　wanted　the　ape　and　that　you　could　give　it　a　fine　home。　I　think　he'll　negotiate。　He's　really　attached　to　the　stinking　thing。　It's　here　in　the　bar　with　us；　sitting　up　on　a　goddamn　stool；　slobbering　into　a　beer　schooner。〃
　　〃Okay；〃　I　said。　〃I'll　be　there　in　ten　minutes。　Don't　let　the　bastard　get　drunk。　I　want　to　meet　him　under　natural　conditions。〃
　　When　I　got　to　the　Circus…Circus　they　were　loading　an　old　man　into　an　ambulance　outside　the　main　door。　〃What　happened？〃　I　asked　the　car…keeper。
　　〃I'm　not　sure；〃　he　said。　〃Somebody　said　he　had　a　stroke。　But　I　noticed　the　back　of　his　head　was　all　cut　up。〃　He　slid　into　the　Whale　and　handed　me　a　stub。　〃You　want　me　to　save　your　drink　for　you？〃　he　asked；　holding　up　a　big　glass　of　tequila　that　was　on　the　seat　of　the　car。　〃I　can　put　it　in　the　cooler　if　want。〃　I　nodded。　These　people　were　familiar　with　my　habits。　I　had　been　in　and　out　of　the　place　so　often；　with　Bruce　and　the　and　members；　that　the　car…keepers　knew　me　by　name…although　I'd　never　introduced　myself；　and　nobody　had　ever　asked　me。　I　just　assumed　it　was　all　part　of　the　gig　here；　that　that　they'd　probably　rifled　the　glove　partment　and　found　a　notebook　with　my　name　on　it。
　　The　real　reason；　which　didn't　occur　to　me　at　the　time；　was　that　I　was　still　wearing　my　ID/badge　from　the　District　Attorney's　Conference。　It　was　dangling　from　the　pocket…flap　of　my　multi…colored　bird…shooting　jacket；　but　I'd　long　since　forgotten　about　it。　No　doubt　they　all　assumed　I　was　some　kind　of　super　wierd　undercover　agent。。。or　maybe　not；　maybe　they　were　just　humoring　me　because　they　figured　anybody　crazy　enough　to　pose　as　a　cop　while　driving　around　Vegas　in　a　white　Cadillac　convertible　with　a　drink　in　his　hand　almost　had　to　be　Heavy；　and　perhaps　even　dangerous。　In　a　scene　where；　nobody　with　any　ambition　is　really　what　he　appears　to　be；'　there's　not　much　risk　in　acting　like　a　king…hell　freak。　The；　overseers　will　nod　wisely　at　each　other　and　mutter　about　〃these　goddamn　no…class　put…ons。〃　The　other　side　of　that　coin　is　the　〃Goddamn！　Who's　that？〃　syndrome。　This　es　from　people　like　doormen　and　floor…　walkers　who　assume　that　anybody　who　acts　crazy；　but　still　tips　big；　must　be　important…which　means　he　should　be　hu　mored；　or　at　least　treated　gently。
　　But　none　of　this　makes　any　difference　with　a　head　full　of　mescaline。　You　justblunder　around；　doing　anything　that　seems　to　be　right；　and　it　usually　is。　Vegas　is　so　full　of　natural　freaks…people　who　are　genuinely　twisted…that　drugs　aren't　really　a　problem；　except　for　cops　and　the　scag　syndicate。　Psychedelics　are　almost　irrelevant　in　a　town　where　you　can　wan　der　into　a　casino　any　time　of　the　day　or　night　and　witness　the　crucifixion　of　a　gorilla…on　a　flaming　neon　cross　that　suddenly　turns　into　a　pinwheel；　spinning　the　beast　around　in　wild　cir　cles　above　the　crowded　gambling　action。
　　
　　I　found　Bruce　at　the　bar；　but　there　was　no　sign　of　the　ape。　〃Where　is　it？〃　I　demanded。　〃I'm　ready　to　write　a　check。　I　want　to　take　the　bastard　back　home　on　the　plane　with　me。　I've　already　reserved　two　first…class　seats…R。　Duke　and　Son。〃
　　〃Take　him　on　the　plane？〃
　　〃Hell　yes；〃　I　said。　〃You　think　they'd　say　anything？　Call　at　tention　to　my　son's　infirmities？〃　He　shrugged。　〃Forget　it；〃　he　said。　〃They　just　took　him　away。　He　attacked　an　old　man　right　here　at　the　bar。　The　creep　started　hassling　the　bartender　about　'allowing　barefoot　rabble　in　the　place'　and　just　about　then　the　ape　let　out　a　shriek…so　the　loud　the　guy　threw　a　beer　at　him；　and　the　ape　went　crazy；　came　out　of　his　seat　like　a　jack…in…the　box　and　took　a　big　bite　out　of　the　old　man's　head　。。。　the　bartender　had　to　call　an　ambulance；　then　the　cops　came　and　took　the　ape　away。〃
　　〃Goddamnit；〃　I　said。　〃What's　the　bail？　I　want　that　ape。〃
　　〃Get　a　grip　on　yourself；〃　he　said。　〃You　better　stay　clear　of　that　jail。　That's　all　they　need　to　put　the　cuffs　on　you。　Forget　that　ape。　You　don't　need　him。〃　I　gave　it　some　thought；　then　decided　he　was　probably　right。　There　was　no　sense　blowing　everything　just　for　the　sake　of　some　violent　ape　I'd　never　met。　For　all　I　knew；　hed　take　a　bite　out　of　my　head　if　I　tried　to　bail　him　out。　It　would　take　him　a　while　to　calm　down；　after　the　shock　of　being　put　behind　bars；　and　I　couldnt　afford　to　wait　around。　〃When　are　you　taking　off？〃　Bruce　asked。
　　〃As　soon　as　possible；〃　I　said。　No　point　hanging　around　this　town　any　lobger。　IU　have　all　I　need。　Anything　else　would　only　confuse　me。〃　He　seemed　suprised。　〃You　found　the　American　Dream？〃　he　said。　〃In　this　town？〃　I　nodded。　〃We're　sitting　on　the　main　nerve　rightnow；〃　I　said。　〃You　remember　that　story　the　manager　told　us　about　the　owner　of　this　place？　How　he　always　wanted　to　run　away　and　join　the　circus　when　he　was　a　kid？〃　Bruce　ordered　two　more　beers。　He　looked　over　the　casino　for　a　moment；　then　shrugged。　〃Yeah；　I　see　what　you　mean；〃　he　said。　〃Now　the　bastard　has　his　own　circus；　and　a　license　to　steal；　too。〃　He　nodded。　〃You're　right…he's　the　model。〃
　　〃Absolutely；〃　I　said。　〃It's　pure　Horatio　Alger；　all　the　way　down　to　his　attitude。　I　tried　to　tell　the　woman　that　I　agreed　with　everything　he　stood　for；　but　she　said　if　I　knew　what　was　good　for　me　I'd　get　the　hell　out　of　town　and　not　even　think　about　bothering　the　Boss。　〃He　really　hates　reporters〃　she　said。　〃I　don't　mean　this　to　sound　like　a　warning；　bit　if　I　were　you　I'd　take　it　that　way　。。。　〃〃　Bruce　nodded。　The　Boss　was　paying　him　a　thousand　bucks　a　week　to　work　two　sets　a　night　in　the　Leopard　Lounge；　andanother　two　grand　for　the　group。　All　they　had　to　do　was　make　a　hell　of　a　lot　of　noise　for　two　hours　every　night。　The　Boss　didn't　give　a　flying　fuck　what　kind　of　songs　they　sang；　just　as　long　as　the　beat　was　heavy　and　the　amps　were　turned　up　loud　enough　to　lure　people　into　the　bar。
　　It　was　strange　to　sit　there　in　Vegas　and　hear　Bruce　singing　powerful　stuff　like　〃Chicago〃　and　〃Country　Song。〃　If　the　management　had　bothered　to　hear　the　lyrics；　the　whole　band　would　have　been　tarred　and　feathered。
　　Several　months　later；　in　Aspen；　Bruce　sang　the　same　songs　in　a　club　jammed　with　tourists　and　a　former　Astronaut*　and　when　the　last　set　was　over；　___　came　over　to　our　table　and　began　yelling　all　kinds　of　drunken；　super…patriot　gibber　ish；　hitting　on　Bruce　about　〃What　kind　of　nerve　does　a　god　damn　Canadian　have　to　e　down　here　and　insult　this　country？〃
　　〃Say　man；〃　I　said。　〃I'm　an　Amei…ican。　I　live　here；　and　I　agree　with　every　fucking　word　he　says。〃　At　this　point　the　hash…bouncers　appeared；　grinning　inscrutably　and　saying：　〃Good　evening　to　you　gentlemen。　The　I　Ching　says　it's　time　to　be　quiet；　right？　And　nobody　hassles　the　musicians　in　this　place；　is　that　clear？〃　The　Astronaut　left；　muttering　darkly　about　using　his　in　fluence　to　〃get　something　done；　damn　quick；〃　about　the　Immigration　Statutes。　〃What's　your　name？〃　he　asked　me；　as　the　hash…bouncers　eased　him　away。
　　〃Bob　Zimmerman；〃　I　said。　〃And　if　there's　one　thing　I　hate　in　this　world；　it's　a　goddamn　bonehead　Polack。〃
　　〃You　think　I'm　a　Polack？〃　he　screamed。　〃You　dirty　gold　bricker！　You're　all　shit！　You　don't　represent　this　country。〃
　　〃Christ；　let's　hope　to　hell　you　don't。〃　Bruce