Lemon tree very pretty
And the lemon flower sweet
But the fruit of the poor lemon
Is impossible to eat
~Will Holt
The Lemon: Longevity, Purification, Love, Innocence
Your Humble Narrator, as well as his Pee and Em, figured that there was someveshch not rabbiting with his malenky devotchka.
The twelfth of December was nearing, o my brothers, and Angel had not yet skazzed a single like intelligible slovo. She was almost one year starry and was beautiful as ever and blessed by Bog each day. But she was not able to govoreet, no.
Odin day, a lovely day away from dreaded rabbit, I held Angel on my lap and brushed out her lucious glory and put it up in a real horrorshow ponytail, is the term I believed nadsat ones were using these days. My tick tocker drooped to my guttiwuts as I like struggled to get her to skaz to me.
I said random words, not in the way of Nadsat, because I did not want her to speak how I did. Your Humble Narrator himself did not wish to speak it anymore, due to the memories, but some habits are difficult to kick, my brothers, as I am sure many know.
"Baby," I skazzed.
"Sun," I skazzed.
"Love."
"Hello."
"Snow," I govoreeted.
"Hair," sayith I, tugging gently on a loose strand. "This is your hair." Deep inside of my guttiwutts, I had a storm building, and I tried very hard to keep it down, as my lovely had not done a thing oozhassny.
Angel kept her gulliver bowed, acting as if I were not there. Her glazzies were blank, viddying at the floor, at like nothing.
"Angel," I tried. I tapped her knee. "Angel." She knew that was her eeyma, or so I hoped.
My goloss cracking, I said quietly, so only her and I could slooshy, "Daddy."
She replied none.
I sat her on the floor beside her teddy bear, angry at myself for not noticing she had a problem sooner. It was in Bog's rookers now, I suppose.
I lay on my bed on my back and watched the lewdies passing out the okno. How sad all of them must be, how miserable. Sometimes I sincerely wished I could help them. Little Alex really has changed, my friends, and every day I try my best to help and be kind to society, I really try my bolshiest.
Quite suddenly my ptitsa smotted next to me, clutching her teddy whom I called Charolette, after her Em.
"What do you want?"
"D-daddy," I believe I slooshied, and even now, years from that moment, that was the sweetest slovo ever heard spoken.
If I had been holding an actual spoon, I knew I would have surely dropped it. Indeed, I wasn't sure if I had heard Little Angel. "What- did you say?"
My devotchka smiled up at me and repeated: "Daddy."
Very well, I couldn't believe it. Perhaps my ookoes were not right today. "Here, my love." I reached down and pulled her into my rockers, suddenly feeling a strange numbness all over. "Angel," I said and I took her so very malenky rooker in mine.
"D-daddy," she skazzed. She put her litso close to my own. Close enough I was able to smell her graham cracker breath.
"Praise God!" I smecked. Somevesch happened then, unlike anyvesch else little Angel and Alex like ever had. Us dva were govoreeters of the language of English, and, one day maybe, Nadsat, but I would try to not let that become.
I lubbilubed her knuckles and then the top of her gulliver and her beautiful chubby litso, her morder.
"Bless you," I said to her, getting to my nogas. "Bless us."
"Daddy!" little sweet Angel said with like another smile.
Little Alex, he cursed himself as his Pee and Em were not there for the moment. He felt an overwhelming need to tell someplott.
When we arrived at Pee and Em's door, I just about gave up and went back domy, with the breath from my rot coming out all fog-like, it being such a cold nochy, and they were shvatty so long. Finally Pee showed up, and it was apparent Bog was smottovat after him. He smiled his old smile at Angel and I, taking a step outside, closer.
"Daddy," Angel announced, glowing with radosty. She hasn't stopped it with this slovo yet, my brothers. She seemed happy but was bezoomnly shivering, as I.
Pee was soon like with Em, and was saying over and over how this was impossible, impossible, impossible.
Em shvatted Angel from my grip and hugged her and nachinated blubing. Pee soon had his rockers around my two dear devotchkas. Em was platching her guttiwits out, getting Angel's own litso wet in some places while she continued her one word rant.
After a while I had my girl back and I bided my Pee and Em farewell. When I closed the door I still could slooshy Em's tears.
Your Humble Narrator and his baby stood out in the cold in front of Em's and Pee's domy for a long while, tangled in each other's rockers and I was horning and smecking and lubbilubbing my devotchka. "Daddy," she droned on, and to my ookoes this single word was almost like Bog and all his angels were swooping down and gracing us real horrorshow like, tying our tick tockers and bones together so we wouldn't come undone.