«A Clockwork Orange»

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I just laid there with my
sabogs kicked off my nogas and my tie loose, like all bewildered and not
knowing what sort of a jeezny I was going to live now. And all sorts of like
pictures kept like passing through my gulliver, of the different chellovecks
I'd met at school and in the Staja, and the different veshches that had
happened to me, and how there was not one veck you could trust in the whole
bolshy world. And then I like dozed off, brothers.
When I woke up I could hear slooshy music coming out of the wall, real
gromky, and it was that that had dragged me out of my bit of like sleep. It
was a symphony that I knew real horrorshow but had not slooshied for many a
year, namely the Symphony Number Three of the Danish veck Otto Skadelig, a
very gromky and violent piece, especially in the first movement, which was
what was playing now. I slooshied for two seconds in like interest and joy,
but then it all came over me, the start of the pain and the sickness, and I
began to groan deep down in my keeshkas. And then there I was, me who had
loved music so much, crawling off the bed and going oh oh oh to myself and
then bang bang banging on the wall creching: "Stop, stop it, turn it off!"
But it went on and it seemed to be like louder. So I crashed at the wall
till my knuckles were all red red krovvy and torn skin, creeching and
creeching, but the music did not stop. Then I thought I had to get away from
it, so I lurched out of the malenky bedroom and ittied skorry to the front
door of the flat, but this had been locked from the outside and I could not
get out. And all the time the music got more and more gromky, like it was
all a deliberate torture, O my brothers. So I stuck my little fingers real
deep in my ookos, but the trombones and kettledrums blasted through gromky
enough. So I creeched again for them to stop and went hammer hammer hammer
on the wall, but it made not one malenky bit of difference. "Oh, what am I
to do?" I boohooed to myself. "Oh, Bog in Heaven help me." I was like
wandering all over the flat in pain and sickness, trying to shut out the
music and like groaning deep out of my guts, and then on top of the pile of
books and papers and all that cal that was on the tablein the living room I
viddied what I had to do and what I had wanted to do until those old men in
the Public Biblio and then Dim and Billyboy disguised as rozzes stopped me,
and that was to do myself in, to snuff it, to blast off for ever out of this
wicked and cruel world. What I viddied was the slovo DEATH on the cover of a
like pamphlet, even though it was only DEATH to THE GOVERNMENT. And like it
was Fate there was another malenky booklet which had an open window on the
cover, and it said:
"Open the window to fresh air, fresh ideas, a new way of living.