My two newly acquired droogs stood patiently beside me. These weren't just any droogs brothers. If they weren't all that right in the gulliver, I might have just been mighty afraid. Criminals, ya see, but bigger fans of ultraviolence than even me. I'd heard it one evening in the milkbar from a devotchka by the name of Jenna. She'd lately been conversing with me not yet droogs, one Mark and the other James – her own blood. She mixed fine munches for the Korova milkbar called Hyper-X and Hyper-D, both in the form of malted milk candy. One made you good and ready for the ol' in-out, whence Jenna and I knew firsthand, and the other accompanied Milk-Plus perfectly – sharpened the senses even more.
We'd converse about music oft as we drank. One night, she'd mention James. I'd laughed at the irony when she'd told me James had the ol' in-out with her mum and lo' she was born. But she wasn't smudged or drooping like the products of those type of things, brothers! She'd also told me her mum snuffed it after Jenna had been born, and she'd been making candies by age 8. She knew viddy well her brother had killed, and had the fortune of watching him a few times. She'd nickname him "Sparkle" - a name if I'd not know the origin would have found unflattering. It'd been after she'd seen him cram tall shards of glass into a droog's mouth and sparkle in the moonlight.
After conversing with Jenna, I'd converse with James about ultraviolence. He'd been very pleased being able to relate to me, brothers. He'd revel in my thoughts and laugh with my laugh. We'd both admire the way blood ran freely and easily. Mark had been his droog, so forth became my droog after James wisened and decided to follow me. We'd scurry the streets for some time now, and on the 8th month, today, we ran into an old friend. We were on our way to Hammy's – an alley of sorts for high class dealers and droogs. To trouble there was to trouble everywhere, and we had a bit of an itch for it. But just on the river bridge, I saw him, and we'd agreed to delay. "Alex!" I cried out, me voice as cheery as a bright summer's day. He smirked a slight. "Do me glassies deceive me or am I talkin' to Lil' Brian?" His voice was rough and old, as expected. I didn't poke fun at his coarse chin fuzzies, either. "A distinct pleasure to see you, Mr. DeLarge. I'd only been wee boy when we befriended each other." I nodded to accentuate the point. He just smiled wider. I'd seen him studying my droogs in that subtle way he doth work, my friends. He wasn't afraid."Right right. Me son's at school, I'm just off to work."
"Why need shinies? You already sold yer yarbles!" I quipped, sending ripples in my cheeks and exploding with laughter. My droogs joined me. Alex still stood like an unwavering statue, smile still painted. "Viddy well brother, viddy well. I'll leave you to it then, our interests seem to mingle not tonight." And he started like he'd walk away, but I stood moreso in front of him.
"Come on, Alex. Fancy a bit of the ol' ultraviolence?"
"No." He said, so simply it made me cringe a bit.
"Not even a thought about it?"
He shook his head. "I'd thought about it plenty before you, brother. I'd thought about it night and day."
"Welly well then, think about it one more time then, o' brother."
With that, I pushed my beautiful cold crowbar into his chest, which he grasped with a reluctance. I'd felt good doing it. I was freeing him from the dredgs of the stinking pit he'd call his life.