CHAPTER TWO: NEW DROOGS IN THE MESTO.

Soon the twelve months had passed my little droogs and I had to figure out what I was going to do with my jeezny from here on in, no more skolliwoll for little Alex. With the malenky handful of Hen-korm left in my carmans, I kupetted a half-pint of lager from the barman down in the Duke of New York. I contemplated as I peeted the lager, my parole was now over and I was free, free, free, O my brothers. What was I to do? First I needed to get my hands on some cutter, the small allowance of deng my pee and em gave me each week was barely enough for a few pints of lager, or a packet of cancers, or a trip to the sinny to viddy a film. I could get a job and rabbit away at some factory for a pitiful rooker full of pretty polly each week, but that vesch was for the lewdies and the moodges, not for your humble narrator. I needed to recruit some droogs nice and skorry, as I knew I would not survive long all on my oddy-knocky. There were some old babooshkas at a nearby table drinking black and tans, and two sophistos, a veck and his ptitsa in their thirties, dressed in very expensive platties, lubbilubbing away in a snug corner of the Duke of New York. I slooshied that they were going to the sinny and when they left I followed.

I followed the sophisto and his devotchka at a discreet distance for a while, but there were still a few chellovecks and soomkas about the street as it was not very late in the evening. I soon had my chance though, they had stopped near a dark alley and were lubbilubbing some more. There was no-one else about and I approached them. "Well, well, welliwell, a horrorshow evening is it not my little droogies?" The veck and his pretty devotchka, who at that moment had their yahzicks or tongues going in and out of each others mouths like flat pink worms wrestling, were both very shocked and startled by my sudden appearance, (it was lucky they didn't bite each other's yahzicks right off, I thought, how would they explain that at the hospital? With a pen and paper obviously, and I nearly let out a gromky smeck of laughter at this thought). The sophisto veck spoke in a refined sort of goloss (after he had untangled his yahzick from the ptitsa's mouth that was), "Do you mind young man? You are violating our privacy." So I answered him in the same refined tones, "Do you mind sir? You are violating the decency and decorum of this public place, in full view of any children that may be about, and I am quite offended and shocked at such inappropriate behaviour."
The moodge was speechless at this, and I smecked away to myself, your humble narrator was quite enjoying himself fillying with this lewdie. Of course there were no children about, there was nobody at all about, but someone could happen along at any moment, so I thought it best to wrap things up nice and skorry. "I think I'll have to be relieving you of your wallet you grahzny old bratchny, that should allay my concerns over public displays of indecency quite nicely." I had my cut-throat britva in my right hand, still closed, as the moodge finally managed to speak, "Get away with you, you juvenile delinquent or I'll see you off with a jolly good thrashing." And believe it or not my brothers, this veck squared up his fists and adopted a Marquis of Queensbury boxing stance. I ducked his fists and slammed my left into his belly hard, and he went whoosh, whoosh, woosh as all the breath was knocked out of him, he didn't go down though, so I gave him a hard tolchock on the litso for good measure and his nose went crack and spurted red krovvy all down his expensive platties. I reached inside his jacket and removed his wallet as his devotchka dragged him away, and they disappeared around the corner creeching and crying and bleeding. I took a thick wad of bills out of the wallet and threw it away.

I pocketed the cutter I had taken from the sophisto, there had to be two hundred pounds at least. It was then I heard a noise from the darkness in the nearby alley, someone was smecking away and I was confronted by three dark forms standing in the shadows, two about my own size and one very bolshy bratchny. Three malchicks who had seen me rob the sophistos and were now about to rob me no doubt. Well if they were going to filly with me they would soon discover they had picked the wrong malchick to filly with this nochy. I had my cut-throat britva ready as I sized them up, I would take out the big one first, slash him across the forehead above his glazzies and he would be no more trouble, as his glazzies would quickly fill with the red krovvy and he would like viddy no more, the other two shouldn't present too much trouble for your old droog Alex. As they stepped from the shadows I heard a goloss I recognised, it was Georgie, a young malchick who had also been in the Reformatory and had been paroled six months before your humble narrator.

"Well, well, well if it isn't little Alex."

"Hi, Hi, Georgie. Long time no viddy my brother."

"What gives bratty? They let you out of the reformatory early?"

"They did Georgie, and I have just completed my parole."

"We were about to take the sophisto's wallet when you arrived."

"Appy polly loggies droogie, I was like unaware of your presence."

Were Georgie and his droogs going to try and take the sophisto's money from me? No I didn't think so, Georgie had known me in the reformatory, he knew what I would do to him and his droogs if they tried. It was then we slooshied the sirens, the sophisto veck and his devotchka must have gone into a nearby pub or off-license and called the millicents. "Well Georgie, best not to be caught standing around govoreeting when the rozzers arrive, best we itty off nice and skorry or the millicents will have us and it will be back, back, back to the reformatory for us, my brother." We slooshied the sirens getting louder. "Right right, Alex, bestways you come with us droogie." Georgie replied.

And so we ittied off to this new mesto, the Korova Milkbar, which had opened a few months back when I was still on parole. The Korova Milkbar, Georgie told me, sold moloko plus - moloko plus drencrom, or synthemesc or vellocet, all drug type vesches. Georgie introduced me to his two droogs, who I learned were Pete and the big malchick's eemya was Dim, (who I soon discovered was Dim by name and Dim by nature, but he was right handy in a scrap was old Dim, with chain, nozh or cut-throat britva). I knew that Georgie and his droogs had probably brought me along as they had no cutter, and as they knew I had a nice carman full that I had crasted from the sophistos, I bought packets of cancers and moloko plus vellocet for all, or as Georgie called it moloko with knives in it. An appropriate name as I soon discovered O my brothers, it most definitely sharpened you up, as it were, and you were like ready for anything. I felt the top of my gulliver tingling as I peeted my moloko plus, and I viddied that here were my new droogs, I was no longer all on my oddy-knocky. My generosity was appreciated, they were all smecking away real horrorshow at how I had fillied with the sophisto veck, and I viddied that what they needed was someone like your humble narrator, a general to organise them into a band of droogs with whom to be reckoned, and at the same time fill their carmans with more pretty polly than they had thus far been able to crast on their oddy-knocky so to speak. We spent a long night peeting moloko plus and smoking cancers, whilst Georgie and I govoreeted about our time in the reformatory. I was starting to feel fagged and shagged and fashed, so I gave my new droogs twenty pounds each and we agreed to meet at the Korova two nights hence, as I had some errands to attend to and I ittied off homeways and bedways to get some spatchka.

I still had well over one hundred and fifty pounds of the sophisto's money left and for the next two days I went shopping. I bought a horrorshow bolshy stereo unit with very gromky speakers along with several discs of Ludwig Van and some other composers I also liked, (I even bought my old pee and em a Johnny Zhivago disc as they liked his cally, bolnoy wailings). I saw a large python in a pet shop display window and I bought him, naming him Basil after a character on an old TV show my pee and em used to watch. And finally I decked myself out in the height of nadsat fashion - bolshy great shiny and polished black army boots that some chellovecks called bovver boots, perfect for administering a good kicking to recalcitrant malchicks, crisp pressed white trousers tucked into the boots, a crisp pressed white shirt and braces, all topped off with a smart black bowler hat. I admired myself in the full length mirror at the chain store, your little droog Alex looked quite a striking figure in his new attire. I found in a nearby pawn shop a real horrorshow black walking cane that had a concealed knife in the handle, and also a beautiful pearl handled cut-throat britva, the perfect accessories. Things were on the up, up, up for your humble narrator my brothers. I had soon attired my droogs in similar fashion, although I let them choose their own hats, as long as they were black. Georgie and Dim favoured the bowler, whilst Pete chose a black beret. To explain my recent wealth I had told my pee and em that I had a night job, rabbiting for the old yahoodies at the emporium doing odd jobs and the like.

I had spent all the pretty polly I had crasted and it was now time my new droogs and I went to work. We spent our nights all sharpened up on moloko with knives in it, crasting shops and off-licences, relieving chellovecks and cheenas of their hard earned pretty polly and expensive watches and jewelry. We crasted autos and went yeckating at high speed through the night, vroom, vroom, vroom, my noga pressing the accelerator flat to the floor, through the surrounding towns and villages, hogs of the road. We dealt out liberal tolchocks and ultraviolence to any malchicks or chellovecks we encountered on our night travels, and occasionally drasted with other gangs of night roving malchicks, acquitting ourselves quite adequately, even when outnumbered, and giving much harder than we ever got back my brothers. Under my skillful leadership little Alex's band of droogs soon acquired a reputationas malchicks not to be fillied with lightly.
That was until fat stinking Billyboy and his merzky cowardly droogs tolchocked Pete when he was all on his oddy-knocky. Late one night Billyboy and three of his droogs ambushed Pete who was ittying homeways after a hard night's crasting. They had tolchocked and kicked him until this nightshift worker that lived in Pete's flatblock who was ittying home from the docks, had scared them off before they could like really get to work on Pete real horrorshow with chains and bats and britvas. Pete said this dockworker veck was like six feet four and all bolshy muscles and he looked like he could chew up steel and spit out nails, and of course grahzny bratchny Billyboy and his cowardly droogs ran like dogs. Pete was lucky the worker veck had come along when he did or he would have ended up in hospital all busted and broken and cut up, but as it sloochatted he was not hurt too badly. His litso was all puffy and swollen, his glazzies were black and he had bolshy great bruises where they had kicked him, but no bones were broken. And so we waited for Pete to recover from his injuries so we could tolchock and kick some respect into those cally grahzny bratchnies. But fate had other vesches in store for Billyboy as it turned out my brothers.

I was ittying homeways from the Korova very late one nochy when I viddied a pack of five malchicks loitering about the street ahead. As I was feeling fagged and shagged and fashed from an evening of drasting and tolchocking, and as I was all on my oddy-knocky, I decided that as they hadn't seen me I would cut through the derelict factory and thus avoid a scrap, discretion being the better part of valour as they say. As I walked through the derelict factory I heard someone smecking away like very quietly and someone else coughed kashl, kashl, kashl. There were six figures lurking in the shadows and I thought that the loitering malchicks had spotted me after all and had followed your humble narrator to administer a good tolchocking. At that moment a voice spoke out from the shadows, "Well, well, well, if it isn't little Alex."
But this was not a shaika of malchicks, oh no my brothers, for this goloss was like a devotchka. The one who had spoken stepped from the shadows and your humble narrator was quite shocked, let me tell you, it was like viddying myself in the mirror, but all reversed like a negative photograph. She was dressed in bolshy army boots painted white, crisp pressed black trousers tucked into the boots, a crisp pressed black shirt and white braces topped off by a smart black bowler hat, cocked back at a racy angle on her gulliver, revealing black hair shaved quite short with a long plaited rat-tail at the back hanging over one shoulder. I recognised the cheena's shaved gulliver and rat-tail, her name was Natalya, a senior student at my old skolliwoll last year. Natalya was a tall devotchka, maybe a year or two older than your little droogie, very pretty and quite a horrorshow plott under her fashionable attire. Her litso was painted all white, with black painted lips and she had this malenky heart painted in black surrounding her left glazzy. "What giveth bratty? All on your oddy-knocky?" she asked as her droogs surrounded me. They were all attired in a similar fashion to the first, and each had white painted faces and black lips and a malenky design in black make-up covering the left eye - a star, a spade as in the Ace of Spades that is, an eight-ball and so on. One of the devotchkas had black and red hair cut all short and spiky, and as I viddied her closely I recognised under the make-up the litso of Tanya my old lubbilub ptitsa. They all had weapons, chains and baseball bats studded with six inch nails and long handled nozhes in their rookers. "Hi, Hi, Hi. What giveth my little sisters?"

"What is going to sloochat bratty is that first you shall giveth and we shall taketh, and then in the spirit of fair trade, we shall giveth and you shall taketh." At first I didn't kopat what she was govoreeting about, two of her droogs held me by the arms, and another one standing behind me had a razor sharp nozh held to my gorlo, one slash would open my throat and spill all my red krovvy. The leader went through my carmans and took out my share of all the cutter that Dim, Georgie and I had crasted that nochy, which she pocketed. With a "Let's see what he's got, a shlaga or a worm." she had produced a golden handled cut-throat britva and a quick slash, slash, slash and my trousers and my neehznies were down around my ankles, your little droog was all nagoy from the waist down, and now I started to pony that things really weren't looking too horrorshow for your humble narrator. The devotchkas were all "Oh and isn't he a big young malchick." and other such dirty slovos and they smecked away at that real horrorshow.
I felt an icy cold touch on my yarbles, as Natalya lightly touched them with the flat of the blade and they were doing their best to crawl back inside my guttiwuts. My krovvy ran cold as she gently carressed my sharries and pan-handle with the ice cold flat of the blade of her britva and I held my breath, one quick slash and I would spend the rest of my jeezny as a eunuch. It was like exquisite agony my brothers as I awaited the sudden slash, I shivered as malenky beads of cold sweat trickled down my litso and believe it or not my brothers I felt the old pan-handle stir and rise just a malenky bit, the traitorous snake. She withdrew the britva and said, "Turn him over." and the other cheenas turned me round and bent me over a workbench, my round behind exposed to the air.
I struggled as I could pony what was probably coming next, yelling explicit slovos as four of the devotchkas held me down and the other held her nozh to my gorlo again. "Don't move bratty, or I'll shive you a new smile." she smecked. Natalya the like leader of this shaika stood in front of me, a cricket bat in her hands. "It's time my little droog, to find out what it's like to be on the recieving end." She walked around behind me and I cried out in agony as the devotchka swung the bat like very hard and I felt a stinging, burning pain across my exposed buttocks as the bat connected with my plott. She did this six times, tolchocking my bare bum with her bat hard enough to leave raised red welts, and I knew that sitting down would be quite painful for the next few weeks. The leader of this shaika of devotchkas spoke "I think little Alex has had enough for this nochy, let him go." and I breathed a malenky sigh of relief, the worst vesch that I had been expecting hadn't eventuated thank Bog and all his angels. The devotchkas released me and I stood up, my neehznies and my pantaloons still down around my ankles, my thrashed buttocks stinging and aching and burning. My old lubbilub ptitsa Tanya stepped forward and slapped me so hard across the litso that I bit my tongue, I could taste the krovvy in my rot and I spat blood as she spoke, "Tell all the merzky grahzny bratchnies that there are new droogs in this mesto, the Black Devotchkas, and we're going to cut off all their bollocks, shaika by shaika." And with that she grabbed my yarbles and squeezed hard, at which I let out a malenky squeal of pain, she let go and the shaika faded back into the shadows and were gone. I pulled up my neehznies and trousers which I had to hold onto with one hand to keep them from falling down as she had slashed my braces, and I staggered homeways feeling very sore and sorry and humiliated. I was glad no other malchicks had viddied this grahzny display, they had fillied with your little droog Alex real horrorshow but at least the most unspeakable vesch I had been dreading hadn't happened, my grassy knoll had not been violated. I soon ponied what that whole vesch had been in aid of - They were using your humble narrator to send a message to the malchick shaikas, but in that they had failed, I of course would tell no-one what had ocurred this nochy, not even my own droogs.

It was just a matter of time I thought as I ittied home holding up my trousers, cheenas and sharps banding together in shaikas for safety, or as in the case of the Black Devotchkas, for dealing out some revenge to malchicks who liked to perform the old in-out, in-out on weepy young cheenas they caught out alone after dark. This surprised your humble narrator not in the least, I knew devotchkas could be as predatory and ultraviolent as any malchicks. I heard that Natalya and three of her droogs had been loveted by the millicents a few months later whilst administering tolchocks and ultraviolence to a shaika of naughty malchicks they had caught preparing to perform the old in-out, in-out, on a young ptitsa.

Pete recovered from his tolchocking after a few weeks, as did your humble narrator's behind (I had to sit on a podooshka for a week, eliciting sarky comments about painful haemorrhoids and derisive smecking from my traitorous droogs. I would have to watch that my brothers, droogs should know their place and have like more respect for their leader). Our revenge for Pete's tolchocking would have to wait for another nochy though, as Billyboy and four of his droogs had been tolchocked real horrorshow by the Black Devotchkas and Billyboy was in hospital with a burst appendix, oh well hadn't some veck once said "Revenge is a dish best served cold." or some such slovo? And so we continued our shop crasting and malchick drasting and lewdie tolchocking while we bided our time and waited for fat, stinking billygoat Billyboy to get over being bolnoy so we could put him right back in the hospital.

And that O my brothers is how I, that is Alex, came to be sitting in the Korova Milkbar many months later with my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie and Dim, peeting moloko with knives in it and trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening.

But that my little droogies, as they say, is a tale for another nochy.

THE END.