Johnny Depp Monologues

This is the one. 'This' is the one I'll be remembered for.

Listen, I was wondering if you'd like to go out sometime, grab some dinner, maybe?

No, it's fine. It's real. You know, in actuality, Lobo would have to struggle with this problem every day.

Why, if I had half a chance, I could make an entire movie using this stock footage. The story opens on these mysterious explosions. Nobody knows what's causing them, but it's upsetting all the buffalo. So, the military are called in to solve the mystery.

That's right. If I did, I wouldn't have any friends.

Listen, hit the bars, work some parties, and get me transvestites. I need transvestites. All right. Bye.

You know, you're, you're much scarier in real life than you are in the movie.

Well, I started thinking about what you were saying about how your movies need to make a profit. Now, what is the one thing, if you put it in a movie, it'll be successful?

What are you talking about, it's the premise of the movie. It's the title of the movie for Christ sakes.

Kathy... I'm about to tell you something that I never told any girl on a first date. But I think it's important that you know... I like to wear women's clothes.

I like to wear women's clothes. Panties, brassieres, sweaters, pumps. It's just something I do. And I can't believe I'm telling you this, but I really like you, and I don't want it getting in the way down the road.

This story's gonna grab people. It's about this guy, he's crazy about this girl, but he likes to wear dresses. Should he tell her? Should he not tell her? He's torn, Georgie. This is drama.

Look, he's got some nice things to say here. "The soldiers' costumes are very realistic." That's positive!

They're driving me CRAZY. These Baptists are stupid. Stupid. STUPID.

Phooey. It's only a five hour drive and it'll probably stop raining by the time we get to the desert. Heck, it'll probably stop by the time we get around the corner. Let's go.

Dolores, I have 5 days to finish this picture. Don't get goofy on me.

We are going to finish this picture just the way I want it… because you cannot compromise an artist's vision.

And you're gonna make a bundle, but only if you shut up and let me do things my way.

Are you people insane? I'm the director. I make the casting decisions around here.

Bunny? We're making another movie! Yes. I got the Baptist Church of Beverly Hills to put up the cash!

My girlfriend still doesn't know why her sweaters are always stretched out.

Orson Welles was only 26 when he made Citizen Kane. I'm already 30.

That's right, Allison. My father was the "Alphabet Bomber." He may have been crazy, but he was my pop. Only one I ever had.

That's right. All in alphabetical order. Car wash... drug store... I used to lay in my crib and hear him scream in his sleep..."A,B,C,D,E,F,G... BOOM! BOOM!"

My mother tried to stop him. She couldn't even spell, for Christ's sake, but they fried her too.

I'm sorry, Allison. But no wonder we're together, honey. I'm an orphan, too.

Yes! And orphans have special needs.

Watch, it's easy. You just open your mouth, and I open mine, and we wiggle our tongues together. And it feels real sexy.

You'll be Queen, and I'll be your King / But if you leave my hive you're gonna feel my sting. / Cause you're my Queen.

A king Queen.

A King cry baby with my Queen by my side.

And if you mess with us man, you're gonna cry, baby, cry, baby, cry, baby, cry.

Grandmother, Uncle Belvedere, you've made me the happiest juvenile delinquent in Baltimore! And guess what? I met a girl!

I may be a drape, but I love your granddaughter. And if that's a crime, I'll stand convicted, ma'am.

You're cool, Allison. You just look square. Underneath it all, I think you're really hep.

It's okay, Hatchet. You're beautiful, baby. But I'll take care of this maggot! Do you know how to play the automobile game called Chicken?

I got some new rules, sucker! How 'bout you and me on top of the car?

That's "Mr. Baby" to you! Fellas of the press, this chicken race tonight is for my daddy. And I'd like to sing something in his memory. Something hill-billy... something colored!

Something my daddy would have loved!

Allison, I'm sorry to get you locked up! But tonight, well, you were the coolest date I ever had!

That Lenora ain't nothing to me! I swear on my daddy's grave! I'm burning inside to touch you, baby!

Well I ain't here 'cause I drive too fast. / And I'm too young to have a criminal past. / Some good behavior would be alright / But I don't seem to qualify. / I'm just out for a little fun / But I'm guilty until I'm twenty one / I guess I'm doing time for being young

I had my first cigarette before I could walk / And I was strumming this guitar before I could talk, Cause I'm the King.

A King Cry Baby with a tear in my eye / If you mess with the King you're gonna cry, baby, cry, baby, cry, baby, cry.

Now, I can't let the right thing stand in my way / Someday, baby, I'll know better / Right now making her pay

The woman want a Cadillac, she don't want no man / I used to have a woman, said she loved me so

She's safe, just like I promised. She's all set to marry Norrington, just like she promised. And you get to die for her, just like you promised. So we're all men of our word really… except for, of course, Elizabeth, who is in fact, a woman.

This is the day you will always remember as the day you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow!

Me? I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly... stupid.

The only rules that really matter are these: what a man can do and what a man can't do. For instance, you can accept that your father was a pirate and a good man or you can't. But pirate is in your blood, boy, so you'll have to square with that some day. And me, for example, I can let you drown, but I can't bring this ship into Tortuga all by me onesies, savvy? So, can you sail under the command of a pirate, or can you not?

I think we've all arrived at a very special place. Spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically.

I want you to know that I was rooting for you. Know that.

Elizabeth… it would never have worked between us darling. I'm sorry… Will… nice hat. Friends… This is the day that you will ALWAYS remember as the day that you…

I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know. If I see one, I shall inform you immediately.

Apparently there's some sort of high-toned and fancy to-do up at the fort, eh? How could it be that two upstanding gentlemen, such as yourselves, did not merit an invitation?

It's a fine goal, to be sure. But it seems to me… that a ship like that one, makes this one here seem a bit superfluous, really.

You need to find yourself a girl, mate. Or perhaps the reason you practice three hours a day is that you already found one, and are otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet. You're not a eunuch are you?

I love this song. Really bad eggs. Ooh.

When I get the Pearl back, I'm gonna teach it to the whole crew, and we'll sing it all the time.

Not just the Spanish Main, love. The entire ocean. The entire wo'ld. Wherever we want to go, we'll go. That's what a ship is, you know. It's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails, that's what a ship needs but what a ship is… what the Black Pearl really is… is freedom.

Last time... I was here a grand total of three days, all right? Last time, the rum runners used this island as a cache, they came past and I was able to barter passage off. By the look of things, they've long been out of business. Probably have your bloody friend Norrington to thank for that.

Do us a favor… I know it's difficult for you… but please, stay here, and try not to do anything… stupid.

No. I expect to leave you standing on some beach with absolutely no name at all, watching me sail away on my ship, and then I'll shout the name back to you. Savvy?

Of the two of us, I am the only one who hasn't committed mutiny, therefore my word is the one we'll be trusting. Although, I suppose I should be thanking you because in fact, if you hadn't betrayed me and left me to die, I would have an equal share in that curse same as you.

That's the second time I've had to watch that man sail away with my ship.

To what point and purpose, young missy? The Black Pearl is gone and unless you have a rudder and a lot of sails hidden in that bodice - unlikely - young Mr. Turner will be dead long before you can reach him.

You know, for having such a bleak outlook on pirates you are well on your way to becoming one: sprung a man from jail, commandeered a ship of the fleet, sailed with a buccaneer crew out of Tortuga, and you're completely obsessed with treasure.

Thank you, Commodore, for getting us ready to make sail! We would have had a hard time of it by ourselves!We could use a ship. But the truth is, I wasn't going to tell Barbossa about Will, as long as I had something to bargain with, which now nobody has, thanks to bloody stupid Will.

Me, I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest; honestly… it's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly stupid.

I was raised on a farm in Moooresville, Indiana. My mama died when I was three, my daddy beat the hell out of me cause he didn't know no better way to raise me. I like baseball, movies, good clothes, fast cars, whiskey, and you... what else you need to know?

Listen, doll. That's 'cause they're all about where people come from. The only thing that's important is where someone's going.

We're having too good a time today. We ain't thinking about tomorrow.

My friends call me John but a son of a bitch screw like you better refer to me as Mr. John Dillinger.

You can put it away. Not here for your money. Here for the bank's money.

You wanna know if we're armed? We're armed.

I was a wild boy, and, well, I was foolish. I held up a grocery store, which I never should have done 'cause Mr. Morgan was a good man. And they sentenced me to 10 years in the state penitentiary for a $50 theft. When I was in prison, I met a lot of good fellows. So sure, yeah, I helped set up the break at Michigan City. Why not? I stick with my pals and my pals stick with me.

You can be a dead hero or a live coward.

Well, here's the man who killed Pretty Boy Floyd. Damn good thing he was pretty, 'cause he sure wasn't Whiz Kid Floyd. Tell me something, Mr. Purvis. That fellow, the one who got killed at the Sherone Apartments - the newspaper said you found him alive. It's the eyes, ain't it? They look at you right before they go. And then they just drift away into nothing. That'll keep you up nights.

Coffee. You act like a confident man, Mr. Purvis. You got a few qualities. Probably pretty good from a distance, especially when you got the fellow outnumbered. But up close, toe to toe, when somebody's about to die right here, right now - I'm used to that. What about you?

Three rules I learned from Walter Dietrich. One: never work with people who are desperate. Two: never work with people who aren't the best. Three: neverwork when you're not ready.

Without women, I might as well have stayed in stir.

I ain't most men.

If you fall I'll catch you.

What did you marinate this steak in? Because it's out of this world! You're killing me with it!

Oh, come on! You got to tell me that! What's the secret? Come on, you can do it, come on, that is one of the best goddamn steaks I have ever had in my entire life. What's the family secret recipe?

That's it?

I thought it was a family secret.

No, no. You said to me this is a family secret, and you gave it up to me, boom just like that. You spill the secret family recipe today, maybe you spill a little something about me tomorrow, hm?

You were just saying? "Just saying" gets people sent away. "Just saying" got me a nine-year stretch in Alcatraz, you understand? So, "just saying" can get you buried real quick.

Look at his face!

Take your shot, but make it your best. 'Cause I get up, I eat ya.

Morris… me and you gotta have a sit dowm about something… what the fuck did you marinate this steak in 'cause it's outta this world! You're killin' me with this.

I gotta knife here. Ah, c'mon, you can do it. What's the secret family recipe? C'mon, what's the secret?

No… no. You said this was a family secret and you gave it to me boom just like fuckin' that. You spill the secret family recipe today, maybe you fuckin' spill a lil' somethin' about me tomorrow. Am I right in assuming that?

Don't look to John... he can't fuckin help you.

Oh you were just sayin'? Just sayin' get people sent to Allenwood. Just sayin' got me a nine year stretch in Levinworth and Alcatraz, do you understand? So… just sayin' can get you buried real fuckin' quick.

Look at his fuckin' face! Hey! I'm just fuckin' with you. It's a fuckin' recipe! Couldn't give a shit! Tastes great, I'm fuckin' with you.

Just gettin' started.

...I need you to listen very carefully to what I am saying because there are lessons throughout your whole life. And you gotta learn from these things, right? Here's the deal. You did not get in trouble because you punched this sneaky brat in the face, not at all. You got in trouble because you punched this sneaky little brat in the face in front of other people.

No, that's absolutely what I should be tellin' him, babe. So the lesson you gotta learn is this, it's not what you do, it's when and where you do it. And who you do it to or with. Huh? You follow?

That's exactly right.

If nobody sees it, it didn't happen.

Hey, you know something?

For 15 straight minutes, I been watching you putting your big fat fuckin' fingers into your disgusting mouth, which is filled with God knows what kind of fuckin' bacteria, and then you take the same big fat fuckin' filthy fingers and you stuff 'em back into the bowl that is there for public consumption. Now what the fuck are you thinkin',John?

Just don't do it again.

Fuck you. You always have a choice. You just happened to make the wrong fucking one.

I gotta tell you something, Officer Flynn. It's a sad day when a native son takes up with his oppressor. There's a word for that back home, you know. Penalty's death.

The last thing I would do if I was planning to harm you was was to warn you in advance, you dumb fuck.

You better fuck yourself, Flynn.

Aw, Debbie, you're breaking my fuckin' heart.

You need to control. Because you know the game surprises you. And you bite your ass not know when, you know?

Lots of good your vest did you today, you fuckin' prick.

So in the end, was it worth it? Jesus Christ. How irreparably changed my life has become. It's always the last day of summer and I've been left out in the cold with no door to get back in. I'll grant you I've had more than my share of poignant moments. Life passes most people by while they're making grand plans for it. Throughout my lifetime, I've left pieces of my heart here and there. And now, there's almost not enough to stay alive. But I force a smile, knowing that my ambition far exceeded my talent. There are no more white horses or pretty ladies at my door.

Hello Dad. You know I remember a lifetime ago, when I was about 3 1/2 feet tall, weighing all of 60 pounds, but every inch your son. I remember those Saturday mornings going to work with my dad, we'd climb into that big green truck. I thought that truck... was the biggest truck in the universe pop. I remember how important the job we did was, how if it wasn't for us, people would freeze to death. I thought you were the strongest man in the world. And remember those home videos when mom would dress up like Loretta Young, barbeques and football games, ice cream, playing with the Tuna. And when I left for California only to come home with the FBI chasing me, and that FBI agent Trout had to kneel down to put my boots on and you said, "That's where you belong you son of a bitch, puttin on Georgie's boots." That was a good one Dad. That was really something. You remember that? And remember that time when you told me that money wasn't real. Well old man, I'm 42 years old, and I finally realize what you were trying to tell me, so many years ago. I finally understand. Your the best, pop, just wish I could have done more for you, wish we had more time. Anyway, may the wind always be at your back, and the sun always upon your face, and may the wings of destiny carry you aloft to dance with the stars. I love you Dad. Love George.

Your honor, I'd like to say a few words to the court if I may.

Alright. Well, in all honesty, I don't feel that what I've done is a crime. And I think it's illogical and irresponsible for you to sentence me to prison. Because, when you think about it, what did I really do? I crossed an imaginary line with a bunch of plants. I mean, you say I'm an outlaw, you say I'm a thief, but where's the Christmas dinner for the people on relief? Huh? You say you're looking for someone who's never weak but always strong, to gather flowers constantly whether you are right or wrong, someone to open each and every door, but it ain't me, babe, huh? No, no, no, it ain't me, babe. It ain't me you're looking for, babe. You follow?

Hey, am I wearing lipstick? I said, am I wearing lipstick? When I'm getting fucked I want to make sure my face looks pretty.

I was busted. Set up by the FBI and the DEA. That didn't bother me. Set up by Kevin Dulli and Derek Forreal to save their own asses. That didn't bother me. Sentenced to 60 years at Ottisville. That didn't bother me. I'd broken a promise. Everything I love in my life goes away.

They talk about religious experiences, I didn't believe in religion. Hell, I didn't particularly like kids. But, when Kristina Sunshine Jung came into this world, something in me changed. I knew what I was put on the planet for: it was the greatest feeling I ever had. Followed abruptly by the worst feeling I ever had.

Danbury wasn't a prison, it was a crime school. I went in with a Bachelor of marijuana, came out with a Doctorate of cocaine, and after sixteen months, I was once again a free man, well not altogether "free." The conditions of my parole were I had to live at my parents and find a job.

The official toxicity limit for humans is between one and one and half grams of cocaine depending on body weight. I was averaging five grams a day, maybe more. I snorted ten grams in ten minutes once. I guess I had a high tolerance.

The favor was to pick up fifty kilos of cocaine. Fifty. That's a hundred and ten pounds. Not exactly a small favor. Not like bumming a cigarette, for example. But what the hell. I didn't have anything better to do that day. It's not like I was on parole or anything.

Waiters, I'm the only guy on the planet that gets busted by fucking waiters, why the Feds decided to bust me on that particular night I'll never know maybe it was the Porsches and Maseratis in the drive way, my Columbian guest list or the cocaine buffet, whatever it was they were just waiting for me to slip up and I did.

We had the world by the short and curliies. We were young, rich, and in love. Nothing could stop us. It was perfect.

Forget about it" is, like, if you agree with someone, you know, like "Raquel Welch is one great piece of ass. Forget about it!" But then, if you disagree, like "A Lincoln is better than a Cadillac? Forget about it!" You know? But then, it's also like if something's the greatest thing in the world, like, "Minghia! Those peppers! Forget about it!" But it's also like saying "Go to hell!" too. Like, you know, like "Hey Paulie, you got a one-inch pecker?" and Paulie says "Forget about it!" Sometimes it just means "Forget about it."

If I come out alive, this guy, Lefty, ends up dead. That's the same thing as me putting the bullet in his head myself.

You think I hate you? I don't hate you. This job is eating me alive. I can't breathe anymore. And if I come out, this guy Lefty dies. They're gonna kill him because he vouched for me. Because he stood up for me. I live with that every day. That's the same thing if I put the bullet through his head myself, you understand? I spend all these years trying to be the good guy, you know? The man in the white fuckin' hat. For what? For nuthin'. I'm not becoming like them, Maggie, I am them.

Twenty years you know a guy, you fuckin' whack him out just like that over a lounge? That's beautiful.

Hey Richie, what are you trying to do, get me killed with that fucking suit?

That fucking car, purple fucking car. Don't say the word plotz, you understand?

If I say you're a friend of mine, that means you're connected. If I say you're a friend of ours, that means you're a made guy. If I introduce you, I'm responsible for you. Anything wrong with you, I go down.

There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die.

A drug person can learn to cope with things like seeing their dead grandmother crawling up their leg with a knife in her teeth. But no one should be asked to handle this trip.

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, screamers, laughers… 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 locked into 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.

We are all wired into a survival trip now. No more of the speed that fueled that 60's. That was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary's trip. He crashed around America selling "consciousness expansion" without ever giving a thought to the grim meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all the people who took him seriously… All those pathetically eager acid freaks who thought they could buy Peace and Understanding for three bucks a hit. But their loss and failure is ours too. What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole life-style that he helped create… a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old-mystic fallacy of the Acid Culture: the desperate assumption that somebody… or at least some force - is tending the light at the end of the tunnel.

We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like: I feel a bit lightheaded. Maybe you should drive. Suddenly, there was a terrible roar all around us, and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, and a voice was screaming: Holy Jesus. What are these goddamn animals? Huh! Huh! Huh! Fucking pigs.

And that, I think, was the handle - that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of old and evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look west, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark - that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.

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?

With a bit of luck, his life was ruined forever. Always thinking that just behind some narrow door in all of his favorite bars, men in red woolen shirts are getting incredible kicks from things he'll never know.

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.

Ah, devil ether. It makes you behave like the village drunkard in some early Irish novel. Total loss of all basic motor skills. Blurred vision, no balance, numb tongue. The mind recoils in horror, unable to communicate with the spinal column. Which is interesting because you can actually watch yourself behaving in this terrible way, but you can't control it. You approach the turnstiles and know that when you get there, you have to give the man two dollars or he won't let you inside. But when you get there, everything goes wrong. Some angry rotarian shoves you and you think "What's happening here? What's going on?" And you hear yourself mumbling... Dogs fucked the Pope… no fault of mine. Ether is the perfect drug for Las Vegas. In this town they love a drunk. Fresh meat. So they put us through the turnstiles and turned us loose inside.

When I came to, the general back-alley ambience of the suite was so rotten, so incredibly foul. How long had I been lying there? All these signs of violence. What had happened? There was evidence in this room of excessive consumption of almost every type of drug known to civilized man since 1544 AD. 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 ketchup on the bureau? Maybe so. But then why all this booze? And these crude pornographic photos smeared with mustard that had dried to a hard yellow crust? These were not the hoofprints of your average God-fearing junky. It was too savage. Too aggressive.

Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Has it been five years? Six? It seems like a lifetime, the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. But no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time in the world. Whatever it meant.

Ignore this terrible drug. Yeah. Pretend it's not happening. Yeah. HI THERE! My name… is, uh, Raoul Duke. I'm on the list. Free lunch, final wisdom, total coverage. I have my attorneyyyyyyy… with me, and I realize that his name is not on that list, but we must have that suite! Yes, must have that suite. What's the score here? What's next?

What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole lifestyle that he helped create. A generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old mystic fallacy of the acid culture: the desperate assumption that somebody, or at least some force, was tending the light at the end of the tunnel. There was only one road back to L.A. - U.S. Interstate 15. Just a flat-out high speed burn through Baker and Barstow and Berdoo. Then onto the Hollywood Freeway, and straight on into frantic oblivion. Safety. Obscurity. Just another freak, in the freak kingdom.

Panic. It crept up my spine like first rising vibes of an acid frenzy. All these horrible realities began to dawn on me. There I was. Alone in Las Vegas, completely twisted on drugs, no cash, no story for the magazine, and on top of everything else, a gigantic god damned hotel bill to deal with. How would Horatio Alger handle this situation? Stay calm. Stay calm.

What was I doing here? What was the meaning of this trip? Was I just roaming around in a drug frenzy of some kind? Or had I really come out here to Las Vegas to work on a story? Who are these people, these faces? Where do they come from? They look like caricatures of used car dealers from Dallas, and sweet Jesus, there were a hell of a lot of them at 4:30 on a Sunday morning, still humping the American dream, that vision of the big winner somehow emerging from the last minute pre-dawn chaos of a stale Vegas casino.

If the pigs were gathering in Vegas, I felt the drug culture should be represented as well. And there was a certain bent appeal in the notion of running a savage burn on one Las Vegas hotel, and then just wheeling across town and checking into another. Me and a thousand ranking cops from all over America. Why not? Move confidently into their midst.

The ether was wearing off. The acid was long gone. But the mescaline was running strong. Good mescaline comes on slow. The first hour is all waiting. Then about halfway through the second hour, you start cursing the creep who burned you because nothing's happening. And then - ZANG!

The decision to flee came suddenly. Or maybe not. Maybe I had planned it all along, subconsciously waiting for the right moment. The bill was a factor, I think because I had no money to pay for it. Our room service tabs had been running somewhere between 29 and 36 dollars per hour for 48 consecutive hours. Incredible. How could it happen? But by the time I asked this question, there was no one around to answer it. That rotten attorney of mine, Dr. Gonzo, was gone. He must have sensed trouble.

There was only one road back to L.A. - U.S. Interstate 15. Just a flat-out high speed burn through Baker and Barstow and Berdoo. Then onto the Hollywood Freeway, and straight on into frantic oblivion. Safety. Obscurity. Just another freak, in the freak kingdom.

There's one thing you should probably understand… Can you hear me? Good. I want you to have all the background. This is a very ominous assignment, with overtones of extreme personal danger. I'm a Doctor of Journalism! This is important, goddammit! This is a fucking true story!

What the fuck? That's fucking machine guns, man, they're firing at us! Machine guns! It's a goddamn war zone, man! Get us out of here, quick! Quick, man! Quick, we're going to be killed, for fuck's sake! Oh no, oh God oh God oh God…

There is a place. Like no place on Earth. A land full of wonder, mystery, and danger! Some say to survive it: You need to be as mad as a hatter. Which luckily I am.

The Jabberwock, with eyes aflame, Jaws that bait and claws that catch, Beware the Jabberwock, my son, The frumious Bandersnatch He took his vorpal sword in hand The vorpal blade went snicker-snack He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. Its all about you, you know

'Twas brillig/and the slithy toves/did gyre and gimbel in the wabe/all mimsy were the borogoves/and the mome raths outgrabe.

Of course. Anyone can go by horse or rail, but the absolute best way to travel is by hat. Have I made a rhyme?