A Clockwork Orange - The Novel - Part One
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'WHAT'S it going to be then, eh?'
There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, and Dim. Dim being really dim,
and we sat in the Korova Milkbar making up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening, a flip dark
chill winter bastard though dry. The Korova Milkbar was a milk-plus mesto, and you may, O my brothers,
have forgotten what these mestos were like, things changing so skorry these days and everybody very
quick to forget, newspapers not being read much neither. Well, what they sold there was milk plus
something else. They had no license for selling liquor, but there was no law yet against prodding some of
the new veshches which they used to put into the old moloko, so you could peet it with vellocet or
synthemesc or drencrom or one or two other veshches which would give you a nice quiet horrorshow
fifteen minutes admiring Bog And All His Holy Angels and Saints in your left shoe with lights bursting
all over your mozg. Or you could peet milk with knives in it, as we used to say, and this would sharpen
you up and make you ready for a bit of dirty twenty-to-one, and that was what we were peeting this
evening I'm starting off the story with.
Our pockets were full of deng, so there was no real need from the point of view of crasting any more
pretty polly to tolchock some old veck in an alley and viddy him swim in his blood while we counted the
takings and divided by four, nor to do the ultra-violent on some shivering starry grey-haired ptitsa in a
shop and go smecking off with the till's guts. But, as they say, money isn't everything.
The four of us were dressed in the height of fashion, which in those days was a pair of black very tight
tights with the old jelly mould, as we called it, fitting on the crotch underneath the tights, this being to
protect and also a sort of a design you could viddy clear enough in a certain