Stanley Kubrick's A clockwork orange: based on the novel by Anthony Burgess (10 page)

"Well," said Georgie, "if you must have it, have it then.  We

itty round, shop-crasting and the like, coming out with a piti-

ful rookerful of cutter each.  And there's Will the English in

the Muscleman coffee mesto saying he can fence anything that

any malchick cares to try to crast.  The shiny stuff, the ice," he

said, still with these like cold glazzies on me.  "The big big big

money is available is what Will the English says."

"So," I said, very comfortable out but real razdraz within.

"Since when have you been consorting and comporting with

Will the English?"

"Now and again," said Georgie, "I get around all on my oddy

knocky.  Like last Sabbath for instance.  I can live my own

jeezny, droogy, right?"

I didn't care for any of this, my brothers.  "And what will

you do," I said, "with the big big big deng or money as you so

highfaluting call it?  Have you not every veshch you need?  If

you need an auto you pluck it from the trees.  If you need

pretty polly you take it.  Yes?  Why this sudden shilarny for

being the big bloated capitalist?"

"Ah," said Georgie, "you think and govoreet sometimes like

a little child."  Dim went huh huh huh at that.  "Tonight," said

Georgie, "we pull a mansize crast."

So my dream had told truth, then.  Georgie the general

saying what we should do and what not do, Dim with the whip

as mindless grinning bulldog.  But I played with care, with great

care, the greatest, saying, smiling: "Good.  Real horrorshow.

Initiative comes to them as wait.  I have taught you much,

little droogie.  Now tell me what you have in mind, Georgie-

boy."

"Oh," said Georgie, cunning and crafty in his grin, "the old

moloko-plus first, would you not say?  Something to sharpen

us up, boy, but you especially, we having the start on you."

"You have govoreeted my thoughts for me," I smiled away.

"I was about to suggest the dear old Korova.  Good good

good.  Lead, little Georgie."  And I made with a like deep bow,

smiling like bezoomny but thinking all the time.  But when we

got into the street I viddied that thinking is for the gloopy

ones and that the oomny ones use like inspiration and what

Bog sends.  For now it was lovely music that came to my aid.

There was an auto ittying by and it had its radio on, and I

could just slooshy a bar or so of Ludwig van (it was the Violin

Concerto, last movement), and I viddied right at once what to

do.  I said, in like a thick deep goloss:  "Right, Georgie, now,"

and I whisked out my cut-throat britva.  Georgie said: "Uh?"

but he was skorry enough with his nozh, the blade coming

sloosh out of the handle, and we were on to each other.  Old

Dim said: "Oh no, not right that isn't, and made to uncoil the

chain round his tally, but Pete said, putting his rooker firm on

old Dim: "Leave them.  It's right like that."  So then Georgie and

Your Humble did the old quiet cat-stalk, looking for openings,

knowing each other's style a bit too horrorshow really.  Georgie

now and then going lurch lurch with his shining nozh but not

no wise connecting.  And all the time lewdies passed by and

viddied all this but minded their own, it being perhaps a

common street-sight.  But then I counted odin dva tree and

went ak ak ak with the britva, though not at litso or glazzies

but at Georgie's nozh-holding rooker and, my little brothers,

he dropped.  He did.  He dropped his nozh with a tinkle tankle

on the hard winter sidewalk.  I had just ticklewickled his fingers

with my britva, and there he was looking at the malenky

dribble of krovvy that was redding out in the lamplight.  "Now,"

I said, and it was me that was starting, because Pete had given

old Dim the soviet not to uncoil the oozy from round his

tally and Dim had taken it, "now, Dim, let's thou and me have

all this now, shall us?"  Dim went, "Aaaaaaarhgh," like some

bolshy bezoomny animal, and snaked out the chain from his

waist real horrorshow and skorry, so you had to admire.  Now

the right style for me here was to keep low like in frog-dancing

to protect litso and glazzies, and this I did, brothers, so that

poor old Dim was a malenky bit surprised, him being accus-

tomed to the straight face-on lash lash lash.  Now I will say

that he whished me horrible on the back so that it stung like

bezoomny, but that pain told me to dig in skorry once and for

all and be done with old Dim.  So I swished with the britva at

his left noga in its very tight tight and I slashed two inches of

cloth and drew a malenky drop of krovvy to make Dim real

bezoomny.  Then while he went hauwwww hauwww hauwww

like a doggie I tried the same style as for Georgie, banking all

on one move - up, cross, cut - and I felt the britva go just deep

enough in the meat of old Dim's wrist and he dropped his

snaking oozy yelping like a little child.  Then he tried to drink

in all the blood from his wrist and howl at the same time, and

there was too much krovvy to drink and he went bubble

bubble bubble, the red like fountaining out lovely, but not for

very long.  I said:

"Right, my droogies, now we should know.  Yes, Pete?"

"I never said anything," said Pete.  "I never govoreeted one

slovo.  Look, old Dim's bleeding to death."

"Never," I said.  "One can die but once.  Dim died before he

was born.  That red red krovvy will soon stop."  Because I had

not cut into the like main cables.  And I myself took a clean

tashtook from my carman to wrap round poor old dying

Dim's rooker, howling and moaning as he was, and the

krovvy stopped like I said it would, O my brothers.  So they

knew now who was master and leader, sheep, thought I.

It did not take long to quieten these two wounded soldiers

down in the snug of the Duke of New York, what with large

brandies (bought with their own cutter, me having given all to

my dad, and a wipe with tashtooks dipped in the water-jug.

The old ptitsas we'd been so horrorshow to last night were

there again, going, "Thanks, lads" and "God bless you, boys"

like they couldn't stop, though we had not repeated the old

sammy act with them.  But Pete said: "What's it to be, girls?"

and bought black and suds for them, him seeming to have a

fair amount of pretty polly in his carmans, so they were on

louder than ever with their "God bless and keep you all,lads"

and "We'd never split on you, boys" and "The best lads breath-

ing, that's what you are."  At last I said to Georgie:

"Now we're back to where we were, yes?  Just like before

and all forgotten, right?"

"Right right right," said Georgie.  But old Dim still looked a

bit dazed and he even said: "I could have got that big bastard,

see, with my oozy, only some veck got in the way," as though

he'd been dratsing not with me but with some other malchick.

I said:

"Well, Georgieboy, what did you have in mind?"

"Oh," said Georgie, "not tonight.  Not this nochy, please."

"You're a big strong chelloveck," I said, "like us all.  We're

not little children, are we, Georgieboy?  What, then, didst

thou in thy mind have?"

"I could have chained his glazzies real horrorshow," said

Dim, and the old baboochkas were stil on with their "Thanks,

lads."

"It was this house, see," said Georgie.  "The one with the two

lamps outside.  The one with the gloopy name like."

"What gloopy name?"

"The Mansion or the Manse or some such piece of gloop.

Where this very starry ptitsa lives with her cats and all these

very starry valuable veshches."

"Such as?"

"Gold and silver and like jewels.  It was Will the English who

like said."

"I viddy," I said.  "I viddy horrorshow."  I knew where he

meant - Oldtown, just beyond Victoria Flatblock.  Well, the

real horrorshow leader knows always when like to give and

show generous to his like unders.  "Very good, Georgie," I said.

"A good thought, and one to be followed.  Let us at once itty."

And as we were going out the old baboochkas said: "We'll say

nothing, lads.  Been here all the time you have, boys."  So I

said: "Good old girls.  Back to buy more in ten minutes."  And

so I led my three droogs out to my doom.

6

Just past the Duke of New York going east was offices and

then there was the starry beat-up biblio and then was the

bolshy flatblock called Victoria Flatblock after some victory

or other, and then you came to the like starry type houses of

the town in what was called Oldtown.  You got some of the

real horrorshow ancient domies here, my brothers, with

starry lewdies living in them, thin old barking like colonels

with sticks and old ptitsas who were widows and deaf starry

damas with cats who, my brothers, had felt not the touch of

any chelloveck in the whole of their pure like jeeznies.  And

here, true, there were starry veshches that would fetch their

share of cutter on the tourist market - like pictures and jewels

and other starry pre-plastic cal of that type.  So we came nice

and quiet to this domy called the Manse, and there were globe

lights outside on iron stalks, like guarding the front door on

each side, and there was a light like dim on in one of the

rooms on the ground level, and we went to a nice patch of

street dark to watch through the window what was ittying on.

This window had iron bars in front of it, like the house was a

prison, but we could viddy nice and clear what was ittying on.

What was ittying on was that this starry ptitsa, very grey in

the voloss and with a very liny like litso, was pouring the old

moloko from a milk-bottle into saucers and then setting

these saucers down on the floor, so you could tell there were

plenty of mewing kots and koshkas writhing about down

there.  And we could viddy one or two, great fat scoteenas,

jumping up on to the table with their rots open going mare

mare mare.  And you could viddy this old baboochka talking

back to them, govoreeting in like scoldy language to her

pussies.  In the room you could viddy a lot of old pictures on

the walls and starry very elaborate clocks, also some like

vases and ornaments that looked starry and dorogoy.  Georgie

whispered: "Real horrorshow deng to be gotten for them,

brothers.  Will the English is real anxious."  Pete said: "How in?"

Now it was up to me, and skorry, before Georgie started

telling us how.  "First veshch," I whispered, "is to try the regular

way, the front.  I will go very polite and say that one of my

droogs has had a like funny fainting turn on the street.  Georgie

can be ready to show, when she opens, thatwise.  Then to

ask for water or to phone the doc.  Then in easy."  Georgie

said:

"She may not open."  I said:

"We'll try it, yes?"  And he sort of shrugged his pletchoes,