Viddy Well, My Droogs: An Introduction from Your Humble Narrator, Alex
Oh my brothers, allow me to introduce myself—your humble narrator, Alex, here to lay down a bit of the old ultraviolence and high-speed thrills for your nogas and gullivers to enjoy. A real horrorshow bit of the old in-out, in-out of thoughts, you might say. Now, before we begin, let’s get a few veshches straight, right? You may have heard of me, the leader of a merry band of droogs—Georgie, Pete, and Dim. We spent our nights tolchocking the odd chelloveck or devotchka, but always with a bit of style. Fancy that, eh?
Ah, the old days were filled with razrezing, sloshing a bit of moloko with knives, and creating some real ponemny art, as it were. We fancied ourselves like great painters of pain, though none of that messy brushwork—no, no, no. We used fists, chains, and whatever else happened to be handy, my little droogies.
I was young then—oh, real young, brothers—and full of energy, the kind you can't waste sitting at home playing veshches like vid games or sucking at the teat of the government’s good old milk-plus. No, it was out into the nochy for a bit of the old fun, terrorizing those vecky adults who fancied themselves so high and mighty.
But of course, you know that story, right? The big change, the great veshch that would turn me from the predator to the prey. One night, things went all wrong. After a little bit of the old robbery and in-out, in-out at a real horrorshow cheena’s mansion, I got snatched up by the millicents, didn’t I? Sent to Staja Number One, where they started poking about in my noga.
From Criminal to Cured? They Thought So…
Now, you may remember what happened after that, oh brothers. The State, with all its so-called mercy, thought it’d be horrorshow to turn ol’ Alex into a law-abiding veck. Enter Ludovico’s Technique—a bit of bog-standard brainwashing served with a side of Beethoven’s Ninth, no less.
They pumped me full of veshches that made me all bolnoy and weak in the gut whenever I thought about doing something nasty. They called it rehabilitation—I called it pure govoreeting. What’s a young malenky like me to do when all my beautiful ultraviolence turns to sickness and slooshies? 💊😵
They thought they’d fixed me good and proper, but the real cure didn’t come from their nasty science experiments, oh no. You’ll have to slooshy that story straight from the book, my droogies.
New Paths, Same Old Alex?
So here I am, ready for the next chapter, my droogs. I’ve left behind the days of robbing old ptitsas and playing the bit of the clown, but who knows what the future holds, eh? Perhaps there’s still a bit of the old fire burning in this gulliver of mine, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll viddy some new ways to leave my mark on this horrorshow world.
So pull up a chair, grab a glass of milk-plus (no synthemesc this time, alright?), and keep your eyes peeled. Who knows what tricks I might still have up my sleeves, eh? It’s a new era, brothers and sisters, but I remain your humble narrator, always ready to share a bit of the old razrezing, either with words or deeds.👀🔪
Viddy well, viddy well.
— Alex