A Clockwork Orange - Burgess, Anthony [15]
“No time,” he said. And he rocked, giving me the old glint under frowning brows, as if with all the time in the world. “No time, yes,” he said, gloopy. So I put the kettle on. Then I said: “To what do I owe the extreme pleasure? Is anything
wrong, sir?”
“Wrong?” he said, very skorry and sly, sort of hunched looking at me but still rocking away. Then he caught sight of an advert in the gazetta, which was on the table - a lovely smecking young ptitsa with her groodies hanging out to advertise, my brothers, the Glories of the Jugoslav Beaches. Then, after sort of eating her up in two swallows, he said: “Why should you think in terms of there being anything wrong? Have you been doing something you shouldn’t, yes?”
“Just a manner of speech,” I said, “sir.”
“Well,” said P. R. Deltoid, “it’s just a manner of speech from me to you that you watch out, little Alex, because next time, as you very well know, it’s not going to be the corrective school any more. Next time it’s going to be the barry place and all my work ruined. If you have no consideration for your horrible self you at least might have some for me, who have sweated over you. A big black mark, I tell you in confidence, for every one we don’t reclaim, a confession of failure for every one of you that ends up in the stripy hole.”
“I’ve been doing nothing I shouldn’t, sir,” I said. “The mil-licents have nothing on me, brother, sir I mean.”
“Cut out this clever talk about millicents,” said P. R. Deltoid very weary, but still rocking. “Just because the police have not picked you up lately doesn’t, as you very well know, mean you’ve not been up to some nastiness. There was a bit of a fight last night, wasn’t there? There was a bit of shuffling with nozhes and bike-chains and the like. One of a certain fat boy’s friends was ambulanced off late from near the Power Plant and hospitalized, cut about very unpleasantly, yes. Your name was mentioned. The word has got through to me by the usual channels. Certain friends of yours were named also. There seems to have been a fair amount of assorted nastiness last night. Oh, nobody can prove anything about anybody, as usual. But I’m warning you, little Alex, being a good friend to you as always, the one man in this sick and sore community who wants to save you from yourself.”
“I appreciate all that, sir,” I said, “very sincerely.”
“Yes, you do, don’t you?” he sort of sneered. “Just watch it, that’s all, yes. We know more than you think, little Alex.” Then he said, in a goloss of great suffering, but still rocking away: “What gets into you all? We study the problem and we’ve been studying it for damn well near a century, yes, but we get no further with our studies. You’ve got a good home here, good loving parents, you’ve got not too bad of a brain. Is it some devil that crawls inside you?”
“Nobody’s got anything on me, sir,” I said. “I’ve been out of the rookers of the millicents for a long time now.”
“That’s just what worries me,” sighed P. R. Deltoid. “A bit too long of a time to be healthy. You’re about due now by my reckoning. That’s why I’m warning you, little Alex, to keep your handsome young proboscis out of the dirt, yes. Do I make myself clear?”
“As an unmuddied lake, sir,” I said. “Clear as an azure sky of deepest summer. You can rely on me, sir.” And I gave him a nice zooby smile.
But when he’d ookadeeted and I was making this very strong pot of chai, I grinned to myself over this veshch that P. R. Deltoid and his droogs worried about. All right, I do bad, what with crasting and tolchocks and carves with the britva and the old in-out-in-out, and if I get loveted, well, too bad for me, O my little brothers, and you can’t run a country with every chelloveck comporting himself in my manner of the night. So if I