It was a grim day. The skies were dark and gloomy, soft rain pitter-pattering all around, and the faint echo of jeers all about. It reminded me for the zillionth time of the dreadfully dung world I’m forced to live my jeezny within. I woke up with a distinct tightness in my chest and my nose cloggered. Wanting to kick the can right there, methinks to all the merry thoughts with my sweet dame. How fair and dorogoy she was, how badly I missed her. This gave me the courage to get off my dung back and get a move on. First though, I needed to step out the good domy to get a fresh swift of the baron oxy outside.
Upon taking my first steps afar, I hit second gear. It was like I usurped the energy of a thousand fresh runts. With a horrorshow smile on my face and a pep in my step, I made my way over to hers. It was about a ten-minute walk from my domy, so I made on briskly with it. But boy, was I ever as clueless as Sherlock Holmes if he was blind as to what I was going to see on what was supposed to be a merry stroll. Firstly, as I passed by the grim underpass where the droogs hung, I noticed there were amidst crasting and fillying with this poor old ded, trying to rid him of his hard-earned deng. Lord have mercy! The helpless hags and moughs that the man made, as he had his life kicked out of him by those senseless droogs. It was sickening. The pitter-patter of rain created this Shakespearian pathetic fallacy around the situation; it nearly brought a roller to my eye. But I couldn’t ponder for long: because as poor as that old ded is, I couldn’t be the next in line in getting mugged, so I ittied off and stayed on course, for I had a beautiful devotchka merely a stone's throw away.
As I made pace towards her though, I noticed a building echo in the environment. Like a stampede of buffaloes on the old native lands. Yet, there was this distinct intent to this echo of stampeding. I felt like there was some evil, insatiable force, like the dook of the devil was fueling it: like pouring gasoline on a fire. This made me scurry a little faster, and a little faster until I was in a full-on sprint. I darest not look back as I was spooked as to what I’d viddy. Before I knew it, her domy came into view, and I saw her beautiful figure standing in the window, viding in my direction. As I neared toward it though, the vivid reflection started to become discernible; slowly revealing itself like an inked page coming out of a printer. Slowly the grim reality began to reveal itself. Four droogs making a great chase. Fiery and malevolent intent in their eyes, a slightly off-putting posture, and an evil grimace plastered on each of their faces. I horned as loud as I could at her, praying she could hear me behind the window. She diligently leapt to open the door for me, but by then it was too late. The droogs upped their pace and had loveted me.
They crashed through the door like a bull in a china shop. Immediately, they made their presence known. There was a distinct tension and fear in the air as they knew they had control over the situation. Their menacing jeering and laughing stunned my beautiful devotchka and I. They took advantage of our shock and began to crast and pillage her domy while humming Ludwig Van’s ninth to a tee. Before long, the droog I would later find out to be Alex, locked eyes with my fair devotchka. He was a tall, slender, yet menacing figure; his presence created an aura of discomfort, as his body seemed to reek of evil, and this horrid stench. Unfortunately, I also later found out that the droogs had finished staying a late night at the Korova milk bar: doing drencom and sipping on that horrid milk: plotting their next deed of ultra-violence. Alex leapt at her, and before I knew it he had his greasy paws all over her body. His droogs swarmed towards them like bees and immediately began to participate in the debauchery. Clawing at her fair sundress, ignoring her cries for help. I couldn’t help but stand there motionless. Frozen in fear and guilt as I watched the people I hated most, seemingly convey that hate to what I loved most. My world was falling apart before my viddy. I viddied all the dratsing and the horrorshow they were having as they took turns pinning her down and giving her the in and out. Rollers flooded my face, and with my fists clenched so hard that I felt my nails digging into my palms, I fisted at the nearest droogs visto, and I watched him fall to the floor motionless, and a pool of dark red blood started to develop under his head. Immediately, Alex and his droogs stopped the ruckus. The hums of screams and Ludwig Van’s ninth rode themselves from the air, and after a distinct pause, Alex and his droogs leapt towards me. There I was. On the ground, getting the life punted out of me: becoming the next victim to this tyrannical reign of ultraviolence. At least I took comfort in the fact that she got to escape. But what I failed to consider was how lonely and helpless it felt to be taken advantage of by those who couldn’t care less about your well-being. Those who have done this time and time again. This will exist as a small memory among many for each of them, while this event will dictate and torment me for the rest of my jeezny. So I laid there and listened to the hollow thuds that would fill the room with each punt to my ribs, and each punch to my litso. Thankfully, this lasted only a few minutes though, before everything faded to black.
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