A lost episode of Scooby Doo featuring the late Hunter S. Thompson, unearthed by Iowahawk: Fear and Loathing in the Mystery Machine.

Hanna and Barbera liked my story on hormone doping at the ‘72 Laff-a-Lympics and proposed that I cover a Harlem Globetrotters game at a haunted Aztec pyramid in Mexico. They called me to their offices in Burbank. “Jesus Christ, you’re killing us here, Duke,” Hanna complained when I demanded a $1500 advance for the project. “I’ve got expense,” I said. They relented and arranged for a chirpy entourage to escort me into the belly of the beast. There was the lesbian chick, the blond Palos Verdes neck scarf Nixon boy and his frigid miniskirt girlfriend, the gawky soul patch hippie kid and his paranoid Great Dane. Lost Manson kids all, Squeakies and Leslies and a canine Tex in a puke green van hoping for some Mexican helter skelter. All the better reason to pack a few guns, I thought.

“Like hi Mister Duke, ready to solve some Mexican mysteries?” said the hippie kid in a grating singsong. I was simultaneously repulsed and fascinated by the shape of his head. “F*ck that,” I said. “We’re going to Compton to pick up some supplies.”

We backed up the van to the garage of my exploration outfitter, Dr. Tyrone, and loaded the necessary cargo for our insane basketball safari in Baja: twelve mason jars of absinthe-laced Goofy Grape, two pounds of hashish, 450 hits of Wacky Package blotter acid, a tinfoiled brick of pure Mendocino nightshade distillate, a Jif Peanut Butter jar of ether, two gross of amyl poppers, a sandwich baggie of MDMA, seven quarts of Mescal, 112 peyote buttons, two cases of Schlitz, and a new experimental medication Dr. Tyrone called “Tyrone Nitrate.” The supension of the vomitous beast groaned under the load and we pointed it toward Tijuana.