A Clockwork Orange / Заводной апельсин. Энтони Бёрджесс

as though she was like giving an example of something they'd all been govoreeting about, and it was like for a moment, O my brothers, some great bird had flown into the milkbar, and I felt all the little malenky hairs on my plott standing endwise[168]. Because I knew what she sang. It was from an opera by Friedrich Gitterfenster called 'Das Bettzeug'[169], and it was the bit where she's singing it with her throat cut, and the slovos are 'Better like this maybe'. Anyway, I shivered.

      But old Dim, as soon as he'd slooshied this dollop of song, let off one of his vulgarities followed by a clowny guffaw. I felt myself all of a fever and slooshying and viddying Dim's vulgarity I said: “Bastard. Filthy drooling mannerless bastard[170].” 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. “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 b eing a bastard with no manners, O my brother. ”

      Dim put on a 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. 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.”

      “Dim can't go on all his jeezny[171] being as a little child,” I said and 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. “Do watch that, O Dim, if to continue to be on live thou dost wish[172].”

      “Yarbles,” said Dim, sneering, “What you done then you had no right. I'll meet you with chain or nozh or britva any time.”

      Pete said: “Oh now, don't, both of you malchicks. Droogs, aren't we? It isn't right droogs should behave thiswise.”

      “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 tolchock. I'llsayit onceandnomore. 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 lowered 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?” N one 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. Dim was osooshing[173] the last of the krovvy off. It was Dim who said now:

      “Right, right. 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[174]. Right?” I was very surprised. The other two nodded, going right right right. I said:

      “You understand about that tolchock on the rot, Dim. It was the music, see. I get all bezoomny when any veck interferes with a ptitsa singing. Like that then[175].”

      “Best we go off homeways and get a bit of spatchka[176],” said Dim. “A long night for growing malchicks. Right?” Right right nodded the other two. I said:

      “I think it best we go home now. Dim has made a real horrorshow suggestion. Well then, O my brothers, same time same place tomorrow?”

      “Oh yes,” said Georgie. “I think that can be arranged.” “I might,” said Dim, “be just that malenky bit late. But same place and near same time tomorrow surely.” He was still wiping at his goober, though no krovvy flowed any longer now. “And,” he said, “it is to be hoped there won't be no more of them singing ptitsas in here.” Then he gave his old Dim guff, a clowny big hohohohoho. It seemed like he was too dim to take much offence[177].

      So off we went our several ways, me belching on the cold coke I'd peeted. I had my cut-throat britva handy in case any of Billyboy's droogs should be around near the flat-block waiting, or for that matter any of the other bandas or gruppas or shaikas[178] that from time to time were at war with one. Where I lived was with my dadda and mum in the flats of Municipal Flatblock 18A, between Kingsley Avenue and Wilsonsway. I got to the big main door with no trouble, though I did pass one young malchick creeching and moaning in the gutter, all cut about lovely, and saw in the lamplight also streaks of blood here and there like signatures, my brothers, of the night's Allying[179]. In the hallway was the good old municipal painting on the walls – vecks and ptitsas very well developed[180], at workbench and machine with no platties on their well-developed plotts. But of course some of the malchicks living in 18A had, as was to be expected, decorated the said big painting with handy pencil and ballpoint, adding hair and stiff rods and dirty ballooning slovos out of the rots of these nagoy[181] (bare, that is) cheenas and vecks. I went to the lift, but there was no need to press the electric knopka[182] to see if it was working or not, because it had been tolchocked real horrorshow this night, the metal doors all broken, so I had to walk the ten floors up. I cursed and panted climbing, being tired in plott if not so much in brain. I wanted music very bad this evening, that singing devotchka in the Korova having perhaps started me off. I opened the door of 10-8 with my own little klootch[183], and inside our malenky quarters all was quiet, the pee and em[184] both being in sleepland, and mum had laid out on the table on malenky bit of supper – a couple of lomticks of tinned meat[185] with kleb[186]and butter, a glass of the old cold moloko. Hohoho, the old moloko, with no knives or synthemesc or drencrom in it. How wicked, my brothers, innocent milk must always seem to me now. Still I drank and ate growling, being more hungry than I thought at first, and I got fruit-pie from the larder and tore chunks off it to stuff into my greedy rot. Then I went into my own little room or den, taking off my platties as I did so. Here was my bed and my stereo, pride of myjeezny, and my discs in their cupboard, and banners and flags on the wall, these being like remembrances of my corrective school life[187] since I was eleven. The little speakers of my stereo were all arranged round the room, on ceiling, walls, floor, so, lying on my bed slooshying the music, I was like plunged in the orchestra. Now what I fancied first tonight was this new violin concerto by the American Geoffrey Plautus, so I switched it on and waited. Then, brothers, it came. Oh, bliss, bliss and heaven. I lay all nagoy to the ceiling, my gulliver on my rookers on the pillow, glazzies closed, rot open in bliss, slooshying the lovely sounds. Oh, it was gorgeousness, it was wonder of wonders. And then came the violin solo above all the other strings, and those strings were like a cage of silk around my bed. Then flute and oboe bored their way. I was in such bliss, my brothers. Pee and em in their bedroom next door had learnt

168

волосы у меня стали дыбом / зашевелились

169

Придуманная автором опера.

170

Грязный, слюнявый, невоспитанный урод

171

жизнь

172

И полегче, Дим, если хочешь продлить жизнь свою

173

осушить, вытереть

174

Сейчас лучше на боковую, так что пошли по домам

175

Вот как-то так

176

спячка, сон

177

Казалось, он слишком глуп, чтобы долго сердиться

178

банды, группы, шайки

179

дурачество/забавы/похождения

180

хорошо сложенный

181

голый, нагой

182

кнопка

183

ключ

184

папа и мама (papa and mama)

185

мясная тушёнка

186

хлеб

187

жизнь в исправительной школе