Fear & Loathing In The Litter Box

The Result Of Drinking Abelour Scotch At 4 A.M.



Fear & Loathing In The Litter Box - A Screenplay

The VOICE OF MEEYOWL DUKE:

MEEYOWL DUKE (Voice/Over)
We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the catnip began to take hold.

A red Chevy convertible -- THE RED SHARK -- wipes the black screen.

EXT. ON THE ROAD TO LAS VEGAS - DAY

THE RED SHARK races down the desert highway at a hundred miles an hour. THE STONES' "Sympathy For the Devil" blares.

AT THE WHEEL, STRANGELY STILL AND TENSE, MEEYOWL DUKE DRIVES -- SKELETAL, WAD OF CATNIP IN HAND -- STARES STRAIGHT AHEAD.

BESIDE HIM, FACE TURNED TO THE SUN, EYES CLOSED UNDER CURLED EARS, IS HIS TABBY-COATED AND UNNERVINGLY
UNPREDICTABLE ATTORNEY, MR. TIDDLES.

The music pounds. MEEYOWL DUKE stares straight ahead. MR. TIDDLES opens up a can of catfood - uses it as a litterbox.

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
I remember saying something like: "I feel a bit lightheaded. Maybe you should drive..."

MR. TIDDLES starts whizzing in the cat food can.

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
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...

Close on MEEYOWL DUKE -- shadows flutter across his face. The reflections of bats swirl within his eyes. We push in close to one eye ball -- SCREECHING SWIRLING BAT-LIKE SHAPES!

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
... and a voice was screaming: Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?

CUT TO WIDE SHOT OF CAR -

MEEYOWL DUKE, eyes rigid & tail fluffed, flails at the air. No bats anywhere. MR. TIDDLES casually looks over...

MR. TIDDLES: What are you yelling about?

DUCK SCREECHES to the side of the road. The sudden wrench makes MR. TIDDLES whiz on the leather seat.

MEEYOWL DUKE: Never mind. It's your turn to drive.

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
No point mentioning these bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.

MEEYOWL DUKE hops out of the car, keeping an eye out for bats, frantically opens the trunk to reveal what looks like A MOBILE VETERINARIAN LAB. MEEYOWL DUKE desperately rifles through the impressive stash.

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
We had two bags of catnip, seventy-five cans of Fancy Feast, five tubes of tuna-flavored hairball lube, a salt shaker half full of tick powder, a whole galaxy of multi-colored cat treats, crunchies, squishies, yummies... Also a quart of heavy cream, a quart of goat's milk, a case of Little Friskies, a pint of raw Flea-Rid lotion and two dozen heartworm pills.

MEEYOWL DUKE, eyes darting madly as he hears what sounds like the SHRIEKS OF BATS returning, grabs an assortment along with another six-pack of Fancy Feast- slams the trunk shut and dives back into the car.

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious catfood collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.

THE RED SHARK RACES INTO THE DISTANCE... on the ground, weakly flapping is a SEMI-SQUASHED, SLOWLY DYING ANIMAL... A BAT?

EXT. FURTHER DOWN THE ROAD TO LAS VEGAS - DAY

IN THE RED SHARK

MR. TIDDLES grips the wheel - stares maniacally down the road - a lousy driver.

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
The only thing that really worried me was the Flea-Rid lotion. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a cat in the depths of a Flea-Rid binge. And I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.

MR. TIDDLES changes the station - "ONE TOKE OVER THE LINE, SWEET JESUS, ONE TOKE OVER THE LINE" vies with "SYMPATHY"... He sings along - washes a couple of kitty treats back with a slug of milk. The RED SHARK fishtails.

MR. TIDDLES: "One toke over the line, sweet Jesus..."

MEEYOWL DUKE (muttering to himself): One toke. You poor fool. Wait till you see those goddamn bats!