George Bush Snr had taken a wrong turn on his hunting trip and rather than face the embarrassment of calling in the GPS co-ordinates again he asked his secret service people to ask a local for directions.

Hunter heard the cars before they stopped. He was looking out of a darkened window as 3 limo's pulled up. "Fuck", he thought "Some one means business". His own advice was to always have 2 cars so you can dump one if things go wrong. Someone who knew him well was going to try something.

2 men, clearly agents, emerge from the leading car. Hunter had been preparing for a moment such as this for some time and wasted none getting out the automatic's. He took the grenades too although he knew the limo's would likely be bomb-proofed and his RPG.

He heard the doorbell but ignored it, he focused his attention on the other cars. Someone had left the centre one and was stretching themselves. Hunter could not believe what he saw.


"The fucker's decided to take me out himself," he thought. George Bush Snr, or someone very like him, was standing in his drive whilst Hunter S Thompson gazed on from a darkened window, clutching an automatic.



He resisted his instincts and thought about the situation. "Must be a decoy" he surmised. An obvious ploy designed to make him give away his position. Other thoughts raced through his brain. Had they known he'd dropped that mescaline? How long had the operation been planned?



They had him outnumbered and outgunned and he was old but

this was Hunters home territory

and he was armed to the teeth.


The agents at the door were the first to die. The 100,000 volt shock swept through the body of the doorbell ringer and arced over to his companion. Hunter remotely operated the doorbell shocker at the same time as he raised the tire cutting blades up through the driveway. Those limo's weren't going anywhere in a hurry. Next, he engaged the radio scrambler to cut them off from their control.

The response from the agents was a testimony to their training. The agent in the passenger seat of the second car left his seat and went to protect George by bundling him back into the car whilst providing cover as a human shield. He never made it. As he left the car Hunter fired his only RPG round into the cars open door. The explosion rocked the car. Shrapnel shredded the agents chest and the force of the blast sent him hurtling into the shocked figure of George. The first car was empty, the second a burning wreck, that left the third car. Hunter ducked down and crawled on his belly to the door. The agents in the third car were in the full swing of the adrenaline rush. The driver opened his door and set up covering fire spraying his automatic in the direction the RPG had come from whilst his partner grabbed George.



Hunter only saw a couple of shots hitting the walls in front of him before he made it to the cellar stairs. He only hoped he had enough time to reach his security control before they made it out.



George wasn't having a very good day. He had never experienced anything like this in Korea and how the hell had Al'Quida known he was coming? It must have been an inside job.

The cars tyres were slashed as they drove off but the wheels were designed for such attacks and could operate without them if needs be. They were getting to the gate but the blades on the drive were making progress uncomfortable and erratic. They had almost reached the gates when the car was suddenly lifted up on its side. The limo ran on 2 wheels briefly as it careered off the driveway and then fell back onto 4 wheels and then its roof as it fell down the embankment. It came to rest on its side against the corner of Hunters workshop. Hunter watched it all from his security camera's. He lowered the blades and then the big steel spikes he had installed to take out ram raiders. Now he might just find out 'what the fuck'.

The drivers head was lying at an unnatural angle. The other agent was unconscious and had 2 broken arms. George took the holstered pistol from the entertainment compartment and began to pray.


Everything was very still. There was no smoke coming from the car. Hunter lit up his grass pipe and then broke out the control room cocaine stash. He surveyed the scene once more and then left to prepare.



Some time, and a lot of acetylene later a hole was cut through the car door above George. George lay there with his breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps. The agent with broken arms didn't look too good, his breathing was shallow. If George could have gotten through the Plexiglas to help he would have. When a hand reached through the hole to open the door he shot it repeatedly before it was quickly withdrawn. He'd hit it. He'd seen the flesh tearing back from the bone, but there was no cry. He blinked sweat and when he opened his eyes it was just in time to see the gas canister come in through the hole. He'd seen tear gas before on television but now he couldn't see anything and he was crying for the first time since his wayward son had won a 2nd term in office. Something else landed near him with a soft thump. "Use the rope you lousy fuck", came a voice. George pulled himself out of the limo. His breath was coming back to him in ragged gasps as he was professionally hog-tied and blindfolded. Then a chain was put round his legs and the ropes cut.


"Stand up bitch" came the voice again. He was lead to a place that smelled very strongly of marijuana. It must be Al'Quida and yet the voice was unmistakably American.



Hunter was well equipped to get at the truth. His journalistic instincts had tracked down many a good story and now he had a sworn enemy in a place with equipment the Inquisition would have died for. He had the blow torch, the rope, the S&M fetish gear. As it turned out it didn't take long to get the truth. The name was George Bush and he had become lost on a hunting trip. With any other political family Hunter would have smelled a rat but as it was he could only smell the very real fear and the slight smell of urine of a helpless old man. "We need to talk", said Hunter and George was to cry again.

George told him everything. The political infighting, his fathers connection with and profiteering from Nazi Germany, how he favoured Jeb over George Jnr to the detriment of his sons mental health, how he got his sons jobs and kick started their political careers. Hunter recorded the lot. This was the story he'd waited his whole life for but he knew that after the death and destruction he'd caused it could yet cost him his life. That's when Hunter finally removed the blind fold. George took in his surroundings and his captor, saw the sawn off arm from a dead agent whose hand he had shot lying beside his chair.

Daylight was dawning and in the distance they heard a helicopter. "That recording will never reach civilisation," said George.



"Well at least I don't have to worry about wasting the acid bath," said Hunter.


"I should warn you that acid baths are notoriously difficult to fully dispose of bodies with," said George. Hunter laughed for the first time since he took out the 3rd car. "No, no" he said, "I meant the bath of LSD I've been preparing". It would put us both so far out our minds that I wouldn't know I was in prison and you would be imprisoned in a psychedelic hell of your own minds creation. You've heard of the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe haven't you? This would be more like the Eclectic Hunter S Acid Bath". "I've never seen either of those films," said George. Hunter bit back the laugh this time. "The movie industry has gone to shit," he said. "There hasn't been a good violent American movie since The Deer Hunter that hasn't relied on special effects to sell itself". George saw his chance here, he had managed to guide the conversation! Opportunities like this could not afford to be squandered. He was an old drug warrior and he was not about to lose his precious grasp of reality, he would rather die! "You could drug us both," said George. "But wouldn't a game of Russian roulette be more honourable?" Hunter agreed and produced his Colt. "You first," he said. He stood beside George ready to stop him pointing the gun anywhere but at himself. George took the gun, spun the chamber and slowly raised the gun to his head. He pulled the trigger and lived to hear a click. Hunter took the gun and spun the chamber. Placed the gun to his head, pulled back the hammer and released.