A Clockwork Orange (book)
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“What's it going to be then, eh?”
“Yeah, real horrorshow”
“What the fuck does that even mean?!?”
A Clockwork Orange, O my brothers, is a rather horrorshow bit of sinny. It was originally written by some bezoomny chelloveck named Anthony Burgess. I haven't viddied much else of his work under old Luna, but I identified like with this particular bit of rabbiting on his part. It's a tale like about the choices we make; especially to be evil eggiwegs or to be horrorshow little malchikiwicks. The book was later changed like into a sinny, by Stanley Kubrick, starring Benny Hill. It was a bit of a comic veshch, but it was still a malenky bit worrying someways--it's been part of this treatment like called "Ludovico's", which like makes you feel like you want to off yourself whenever you see the Ultra-violence or some vecks giving a devotchka the in-out.
edit Discovery of the Book
Me droogs and I spent the evening on the Ultra-violence. We started off fillying about with some veck with a guitar named JB. After stealing a new Durango 95, I'd visited a rather queer domie with my so-called droogs, the sign outside read "HOME" and it belonged to a veck named F. Alexander--who, as it turns out, was a bit bezoomny and all. We dratsied and fillied about the place a bit, and gave his wife the old in-out in-out. It was among the papers that we'd torn up and destroyed that I viddied the book, and it sort of stuck with me; even despite the horrorshow moloko plus playing with my head.
edit Life after Reading
It was right the next morning, my brothers, after I'd told pee and em that I had a pain in the gulliver, and I'd stay in bed. They were off to their respective rabbits like, and I was going to stay home with lovely lovely Ludwig van. I also stopped by the disc-bootick and picked up a couple of devotchkas. I brought them back to my place, handed them a few scotchmans, and gave them the in-out as well.
I'd been trying to tell my droogs about the old book, but they were too busy creeching 'O Alex, we want to get a malenky bit of Democracy like' and all that cal. I pulled out my cut-throat britva and had to put them back in their place like. We patched them up at the Duke of New York. Dim and Georgieboy wanted to go and crast some wares from this right starry old ptitsa, what with all kots and koshkas about the place. So, I wasn't able to gavoreet about old Burgess much. Off we four droogs went, then.
edit Watching the Film
It wasn't until later, after my droogs betrayed me, I was sent to prison, and I was subjected to a most unpleasant treatment; I discovered its true meaning. I'd been trying to get all horrorshow like with the staja charlie, viddy whether or not I could get myself on this new treatment I'd heard about. That was before the Minister of Interior or Inferior came by and decided that I, my brothers and only friends, was a suitable candidate for what was called Ludovico's treatment.
It seemed all right and horrorshow at first. I was even given toofles to put my nogas in when I ittied about my room at night. I had lomticks of roast beef, and all the chai I could peet. This was before they came along and stuck their filthy, filthy drugs into my rooker. What they did was wheel me down to this sinny like. They strapped my plott down, and clipped my glazzies open with clips all about my litso. They then left me like that, all trussed up and on my oddy knocky. It was so I would have to viddy all kinds of veshch, all of which was about ultra-violence and the old in-out in-out. I really enjoyed the films, until I started to feel like I was going to sick all over the place. But that, O my brothers, was not the worst veshch of all. This veshch was so bad, my brothers and only friends, that it had me creeching at them to stop. They had me creeching all about sin like. I told them I could stand no more. I told them that they were making me into a Clockwork Orange. I suppose this must've given them this idea, like.
The next morning, they strapped my plott in all click click click like the day before. Only today, they brought in the sinny A Clockwork Orange based on the book. It was by some veck named Stanley Kubrick, and it left out a malenky bit of the important. Apparently 21 chapters in all in the original, but the American Infintmin decided that the last was not horrorshow enough; leaving Kubrick a partial book to get stuck into like. This was the last straw for your suffering narrator.
The worst veshch of all was that I also felt the terrible, creeping sick whenever I heard my music. Lovely lovely Ludwig Van or Dvorak or Mozart or that blind veck, Handel. That, my brothers and only friends, was the biggest cally veshch of it all. I had screamed at them when it got into my gulliver that what they were playing was the Ninth.
edit Results of the Film
They said I was reformed after only a fortnight of the treatment. I never wanted to viddy a Stanley Kubrick again. The really strange thing is that, because of the sinny I'd watched, whenever I started getting like pictures in my mind's glazzy of spilling the red red krovvy, or giving the in-out in-out to a young devotchka, or crasting some pretty polly; It got my innards all razrez, and I started to feel all sick like. I couldn't handle it, so I had to sit down like and let other things fill me gulliver. It was really bezoomny, O brothers, because this was stuff that used to make me feel right horrorshow.
edit The Film's Ending
Kubrick was limited like on what he could use. The A Merry Can version of the book was malenkier than that in the old Gee Bee. Resulting like in the sinny being short just the 21st chapter. At the end of the sinny, I was all banged up like and recovering from watching the rest of the sinny. The Infintmin was there, and he'd paid for the government to rabbit about my gulliver and remove all traces of the sinny from it. There was no doubt about it, O my brothers, I was cured.
edit The Controversial Last Chapter
After all of the things your humble and suffering narrator went through, my brothers, I still remembered the end of the book--even though it had been cut out of the sinny by the evil eunuch jellies. Some raz had passed since the time at the staja, and I had found me some new droogs. But this raz, it felt different. I was not in the mood like. The sinny version left out all kinds of things like, and after watching it and being cured of it, I wasn't in the mood like. For some reason, I was imagining growing starry with some ptitsa on my arm; strange, because I wasn't all into the ultra-violence which I'd come so far to reclaim.