The term "A Clockwork Orange" refers to a human who is mechanically responsive
Steve kicked the Coca-Cola can across the tarmac street; four years four long fucking years, a lot can chance in four years like your supposed other friends ignoring you. Alan had fallen in with the geek crowd and Tommy had become a jock but what about old Steve?
Well he had become an even angrier person then before, his shoved his hands into the pockets of his baggie black jeans, hunching his shoulders over even more so to protect himself from the bitter cold as rain started to cry from the clouded grey sky.
He just kept walk with no direction or place to go. Steve wandered down a concrete hill covered with rusted cage, a skate bordered paradise with splattered works of street art graffiti. Steve glanced up through a veil of blonde almost white hair to see the possible artist of this work tossing a can of spray paint to the floor where a small collection was growing before reaching into his backpack and producing another can and getting back to work. The boy had black covered by a hat, a black shirt looked like it was devouring his thin frame, black skinny jeans clung to his hip bones for dear life and to top his look all off; a Marlboro cigarette dangled from his lips kissing his cold metal lip ring.
Steve looked at the cement cage seeing a beat-up discoloured sofa along with trampoline, he watched a petit girl sit on it: her head was covered with a bowler, a long white shirt, brasses fastened to her black jean shorts and heavy Doc Martin boots clunked back and forth as she swung her legs off the edge.
"What are you looking at?" Sneered the boy at Steve.
"Oh," started the girl "Lay off him the brother looks like he needs shelter from the buckets from the heavens. Come in." she waved him in to the cement shelter that kept the wind and rain from him.
"My, my, brother you look awful faggy? Why don't you take a spatchka here, we have no reason to give you the ol' Ultra-violence, now do we?"
Steve crossed eyebrows in confusion at her strange language "What? Did you call me a fag?"
"No you nazz, it's a dialectal called Nadsat." Said the boy placing his can of spray paint down on the ground next to himself a he relit his smoke. Steve sat on the discoloured sofa next to the girl
"Faggy means tried." The boy cleared up
"Oh brother I didn't mean to offend you, please accept my appy polly loggy." She smiled
Steve just nodded wondering why he had taken the invitation to loiter with these nut jobs.
"Where are our etiquettes, sister?" the boy exclaimed
"Oh, brother you are right," cried the girl "the merzky moodge and soomka who brought me in to this world called me Truth."
"And I'm titled after my merzky sooka loving father, Jason." The boy said flicking the bud of his cigarette away and dusting himself off.
"Well, I'm Steve and what the hell is with the Nadsat?" he asked
"Well it started when my brother and I were malenky malchicks and we stumbled on to a little sinny called A Clockwork Orange and got a taste for the Ultra-violence and Moloko plus in the Korova Milk Bar" Truth watched her nails.
Steve knew of the film and just how violent it was but had never seen it before and now he had two cracked adolescences talking to him in some strange expressions and conversing about the Korova Milk Bar and Ultra-violence.
After his strange encounter with Truth and Jason he decided to watch the film that had them in such a messed up fashion. And in all fairness he could see why they had for the first time since his supposed 'friend' had 'died' for once he wasn't hell bent on revenge on him, for once he just wanted to be a teenager but with a bit of a weird twist.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Can you please help? There's been a terrible accident! My friend's in the middle of the road bleeding to death! Can I please use your telephone for an ambulance?" Steve yelled "Missus! It's a matter of life and death!"
The two Clockwork enthusiasts turned to him as they heard him say the lines from their holy film
"Welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, well. To what do I owe the extreme pleasure of this surprising visit?" asked Jason "We didn't think you'd come back."
"Why wouldn't I?" Steve asked
"Because a lot of people think we should be locked-up." Said Truth tilting her head to the side
"I like it." Steve said sitting next to her on the tarnished sofa.
"Are you in the mood for some Ultra-violence, Steve?" Jason asked leaning in so his face was only centimetres away from Steve's "If you have the yarbles for it."
"I got plenty of yarbles." Steve growled at him.
"Have your eyes seen the sinny Fight Club?" Jason asked as he and Steve swung their baseball bats in the head lights of a shiny new black BMW.
"The first rule of Fight Club is you don't talk about Fight Club," Steve said and Jason looked at him with an amused smile "The second rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club." He laughed
"Back when Brad Pitt was good." Truth shaking her head, as she stood a top another car of a well off family bringing her bat down on the windshield. Steve veered the bat into another car setting off the alarm.
"Oh shit." He laughed
"Fuck Steve." Jason laughed too
"Okay let's get the fuck out of here before someone rings the millicents." She laughed jumping off the car and the three taking off in a sprint.
"So how was your day?" Steve asked putting the bat behind his back and swung his arms over it.
"Ech, we had some godman coming in to chew our ear off about our father, son and the fucking Holy Ghost. Gave me a horrible feeling in my guttiwuts and a right thump in me Gulliver." She rolled her eyes.
"So Steve did you give that girl the old in-out in-out." Jason giggled and winked at him
"Yeah but she was a bit loose me is thinking she was a sooka."
"Wouldn't surprise me." Truth sneered
But it wasn't all Ultra-violence of fighting on the street and mindless vandalism; there was the matter of alcohol, drugs and sex. They had been at some scummy house where the music was loud enough to wake the dead; the punk metal mix had been playing for the best part of an hour.
Steve let Truth pour the sweet alcoholic nectar known as beer down his throat as he sat slumped adjacent to the wall. She pulled it from his lips placing it next to him, his hands slid to the sides of her face pulling her close as he placed lips onto hers. They were soon playing tonsil tennis tasting the beer on his tongue.
"Ugh stop." Protested Jason
"Whatever bitch." Truth slurred slightly losing her Clockwork Orange edge. Jason pulled out the cork of a bottle of wine with his tobacco stained teeth, he spat it out with a hint of distaste before taking a generous swing of the rich red liquid. He licked his lips before passing the vino to Steve who place the glass to his lips, teeth clank against the glass; he drank deeply from it letting the alcohol buzz in his skull.
"Oh Bog, the firegold is giving me a right pain in the Gulliver." Jason garbled lying down so his head was on Steve's lap, Steve let his fingers run through Jason's dyed black hair. He sighed content watching punk teenagers grind on each other. The two boys watched as their female comrade wrapped her legs around some skinny boy with a blonde Mohawk, sticking their tongues down each other's throats before heading off to one of the bedrooms.
Jason sighed "That bastard better treat her right when he gives the in-out in-out."
Steve just nodded then Jason shot up attaching his lips to Steve. Jason was all too surprised when Steve kissed back. Jason climbed into his lap moving his hips on Steve's who bit Jason with the intent to draw blood; which he did. He growled as his had slid up the black shirt, feeling the prominent hips bones and strumming the ribs, Jason giggled slightly at the sensation. Pulling away with Steve's bottom lip between his teeth, he let it go and went to his neck, kissing, biting, sucking. Knowing he would leave a purple mark there in the morning.
"You could you rot to better use but not here." Steve pushed Jason off of him, standing he dragged the boy behind him stumbling.
The only privet space that was found was a bathroom with two naked girls passed out in the shower, Steve pushed Jason up on the wall, ripping the shirt from his back and tossing it to the merzky floor. Then he saw long white streaked marks on his skin.
"What?" Jason snapped "I used to draw a britva over me skins, I don't do it no more so forget yous ever saw 'em."
Steve shrugged, pushing his bare torso on to Jason's with a kiss. He complied immediately with him; Jason pushed one of his hands on the sink only to gasp as he nicked it on something.
"What?" Steve asked, the two observed the crimson on his hand and the small sliver blade. Steve took it and cut in Jason's shoulder; he moaned at this loving the adrenalin that rushed through his veins and the tightening of his heart from the cut. Blood oozed out and Steve wrapped his mouth around it sucking on the wound he had caused.
The rain drizzled on the window on a dreary Monday, Steve should be at school sitting in Mr. Dallons class listening so he could pass a test to then go on and get a job and have a family. Yes, sit and listen in Mr. Dallons Monday afternoon class but instead he was in bed between his two droogs. Purple marks starting to show on his skin from when one of them had bit him -if not both of them- he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands removing most to last night's eyeliner. He sat up both of their heads sliding off his chest; Jason just groaned and rolled over, Truth on the other hand yanked on the hair on the back of his head pulling him back down on the bed.
"Don't move," She warned placing her head back on his bare chest, Steve rolled his eyes and pushed her off.
She growled "fine." She pulled on her shorts "You got any deng for cancer?"
"No." Steve shook his head
"Jason," Truth thumped him with a pillow
"What?"
"You got any deng for cancer?" she pulled on her Doc's
"No, spent all my deng on goldfire last night." He grumbled
"Steve." Screeched a woman he knew was his mother.
He sighed opening his bedroom door and storming down the hall to the shitty kitchen where the woman sat. Her face starting to wrinkle at the eyes, her blonde hair beginning to grey at the roots.
"What?" he asked
"Why aren't you at school?" She asked
"Why do you care?"
"'Cause I'm your mother." She yelled
"Really, I hadn't noticed you were." He yelled back rolling his eye not in the mood to deal with her. He strolled off back to his room; he and his droogs could climb out the window to escape.
"I really want some cancer." Jason moaned
"Well go blow some guy for the money." Steve said making an appropriate –or inappropriate as it really was.
"Fuck you."
"How about this, my brothers; you two have a zasnoot here and'll go thieve us some money for cancer." Skipped off their sister
Steve sighed watching the devotchka ass as her hips swayed away from them. Steve leaning on a concert pillars counting the droplets that fell on to his nose.
Then thwack something green hit right in the face, he stumbled back tearing from his face. His eyes met the green paper with the words that would bring him back to his vengeful self.
'Cirque Du Freak'
The once hateful visions that were almost lost in drunken hazes returned and loathing rekindled in his heart for creepy Crepsley and his once best friend Darren. He scrunched the flier in his hand and walked off into the rain- all the time Jason yelled his name. Calling him brother, now his only brother was vengeance and it would be sweet.
"I was cured all right." Steve said "And Darren will suffer the tortures of the damned"
"It's so good to hear you say that." Steve turned to see a short, fat man in a yellow suit with green wellington boots
"who are?" he sneered at him and his company
"Well I am Mr. Tiny and this is Gannen Harst." The fat man said "And we want to help you for fill your distiny." He smile in the way Steve and his droogs did before they went out for a bit of the old ultra-violence and how could Steve refuse.
I was cured all right.
Kind regards from your humble narrator,
Rev. Zia Wallace.