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By Root 5315 0

my jeezny: “Yes yes yes, do that, protect me from these old madmen.” I noticed that the attendant veck was not too anxious to join in the dratsing and rescue me from the rage and madness of these starry vecks’ claws; he just scatted off to his like office or wherever the telephone was. Now these old men were panting a lot now, and I felt I could just flick at them and they would all fall over, but I just let myself be held, very patient, by these starry rookers, my glazzies closed, and feel the feeble tolchocks on my litso, also slooshy the panting breathy old golosses creeching: “Young swine, young murderer, hooligan, thug, kill him.” Then I got such a real painful tolchock on the nose that I said to myself to hell to hell, and I opened my glazzies up and started to struggle to get free, which was not hard, brothers, and I tore off creeching to the sort of hallway outside the reading-room. But these starry avengers still came after me, panting like dying, with their animal claws all trembling to get at your friend and Humble Narrator. Then I was tripped up and was on the floor and was being kicked at, then I slooshied golosses of young vecks creeching: “All right, all right, stop it now,” and I knew the police had arrived.

A Clockwork Orange

3

I was like dazed, O my brothers, and could not viddy very clear, but I was sure I had met these millicents some mesto before. The one who had hold of me, going: “There there there,” just by the front door of the Public Biblio, him I did not know at all, but it seemed to me he was like very young to be a rozz. But the other two had backs that I was sure I had viddied before. They were lashing into these starry old vecks with great bolshy glee and joy, swishing away with malenky whips, creeching: “There, you naughty boys. That should teach you to stop rioting and breaking the State’s Peace, you wicked villains, you.” So they drove these panting and wheezing and near dying starry avengers back into the reading-room, then they turned round, smecking with the fun they’d had, to viddy me. The older one of the two said: “Well well well well well well well. If it isn’t little Alex. Very long time no viddy, droog. How goes?” I was like dazed, the uniform and the shlem or helmet making it hard to viddy who this was, though litso and goloss were very familiar. Then I looked at the other one, and about him, with his grinning bezoomny litso, there was no doubt. Then, all numb and growing number, I looked back at the well well welling one. This one was then fatty old Billyboy, my old enemy. The other was, of course, Dim, who had used to be my droog and also the enemy of stinking fatty goaty Billyboy, but was now a millicent with uniform and shlem and whip to keep order. I said: “Oh no.”

“Surprise, eh?” And old Dim came out with the old guff I remembered so horrorshow: “Huh huh huh.”

“It’s impossible,” I said. “It can’t be so. I don’t believe it.”

“Evidence of the old glazzies,” grinned Billyboy. “Nothing up our sleeves. No magic, droog. A job for two who are now of job-age. The police.”

“You’re too young,” I said. “Much too young. They don’t make rozzes of malchicks of your age.”

“Was young,” went old millicent Dim. I could not get over it, brothers, I really could not. “That’s what we was, young droogie. And you it was that was always the youngest. And here now we are.”

“I still can’t believe it,” I said. Then Billyboy, rozz Billyboy that I couldn’t get over, said to this young millicent that was like holding on to me and that I did not know: “More good would be done, I think, Rex, if we doled out a bit of the old summary. Boys will be boys, as always was. No need to go through the old station routine. This one here has been up to his old tricks, as we can well remember though you, of course, can’t. He has been attacking the aged and defenceless, and they have properly been retaliating. But we must have our say in the State’s name.”

“What is all this?” I said, not able hardly