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By Root 2705 0

his vulgarities, which in this case was a lip-trump followed by a dog-howl followed by two fingers pronging twice at the air followed by a clowny guffaw. I felt myself all of a fever and like drowning in redhot blood, slooshying and viddying Dim’s vulgarity, and I said: “Bastard. Filthy drooling mannerless bastard.” Then I leaned across Georgie, who was between me and horrible Dim, and fisted Dim skorry on the rot. Dim looked very surprised, his rot open, wiping the krovvy off of his goober with his rook and in turn looking surprised at the red flowing krovvy and at me. “What for did you do that for?” he said in his ignorant way. Not many viddied what I’d done, and those that viddied cared not. The stereo was on again and was playing a very sick electronic guitar veshch. I said:

“For being a bastard with no manners and not the dook of an idea how to comport yourself publicwise, O my brother.”

Dim put on a hound-and-horny look of evil, saying: “I don’t like you should do what you done then. And I’m not your brother no more and wouldn’t want to be.” He’d taken a big snotty tashtook from his pocket and was mopping the red flow puzzled, keeping on looking at it frowning as if he thought that blood was for other vecks and not for him. It was like he was singing blood to make up for his vulgarity when that devotchka was singing music. But that devotchka was smecking away ha ha ha now with her droogs at the bar, her red rot working and her zoobies ashine, not having noticed Dim’s filthy vulgarity. It was me really Dim had done wrong to. I said:

“if you don’t like this and you wouldn’t want that, then you know what to do, little brother.” Georgie said, in a sharp way that made me look: “All right. Let’s not be starting.”

“That’s clean up to Dim,” I said. “Dim can’t go on all his jeezny being as a little child.” And I looked sharp at Georgie. Dim said, and the red krovvy was easing its flow now: “What natural right does he have to think he can give the orders and tolchock me whenever he likes? Yarbles is what I say to him, and I’d chain his glazzies out as soon as look.”

“Watch that,” I said, as quiet as I could with the stereo bouncing all over the walls and ceiling and the in-the-land veck beyond Dim getting loud now with his “Spark nearer, ultoptimate”, I said: “Do watch that, O Dim, if to continue to be on live thou dost wish.”

“Yarbles,” said Dim, sneering, “great bolshy yarblockos to you. What you done then you had no right. I’ll meet you with chain or nozh or britva any time, not having you aiming tol-chocks at me reasonless, it stands to reason I won’t have it.”

“A nozh scrap any time you say,” I snarled back. Pete said: “Oh now, don’t, both of you malchicks. Droogs, aren’t we? It isn’t right droogs should behave thiswise. See, there are some loose-lipped malchicks over there smecking at us, leering like. We mustn’t let ourselves down.”

“Dim,” I said, “has got to learn his place. Right?”

“Wait,” said Georgie. “What is all this about place? This is the first I ever hear about lewdies learning their place.” Pete said: “If the truth is known, Alex, you shouldn’t have given old Dim that uncalled-for tolchock. I’ll say it once and no more. I say it with all respect, but if it had been me you’d given it to you’d have to answer. I say no more.” And he drowned his litso in his milk-glass.

I could feel myself getting all razdraz inside, but I tried to cover it, saying calm: “There has to be a leader. Discipline there has to be. Right?” None of them skazatted a word or nodded even. I got more razdraz inside, calmer out. “I,” I said, “have been in charge long now. We are all droogs, but somebody has to be in charge. Right? Right?” They all like nodded, wary like. Dim was osooshing the last of the krovvy off. It was Dim who said now:

“Right, right. Doobidoob. A bit tired, maybe, everybody is. Best not to say more.” I was surprised and just that malenky bit poogly to sloosh Dim govoreeting that wise. Dim said: “Bedways is rightways now, so best we go homeways. Right?” I was very surprised. The other two nodded, going right