It’s 1994. Bill Hicks drives down a dusty Texas backroad.
It’s 1994. Bill Hicks is talking to someone about stalwart comedian Bill Cosby.
It’s 1994. Bill is at Alejandro’s sprawling mansion. Alejandro is a book lover and one of California’s largest drug distributors.
It’s 1994. Bill Hicks is in his bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He’s pretty high on acid. An overhead light casts brooding shadows around his face. Two pinpoints of light in his pupils.
It’s 1994. Bill Hicks is at the bar after a show, drinking a hefty margarita and reading a Noam Chomsky book*. A tipsy woman with big hair approaches, crosses her arms and lolls her head.