There we were, that is me, Alex and my three droogs; Georgie, Dim, and Pete, slooshying the song that was coming from the stereo. We sat there in the Korova Milk Bar peeting a glass of the old moloko plus. This would sharpen us up for a night of the good old ultra-violence. For this was a night to be of ultra-violent proportions, O my brothers. I reached into my pocket and found my britva but no pretty polly. It seems we were all bit low on deng.

"well my little droogs I say we pay a visit to the old mesto on park street and crast some cutter, us not having visited the place in such a while."

My proposition was met with right, right, right, by my faithful droogs. So we peeted the rest of the moloko and out, out, out.

We left the Korova and Ittied over to the old mesto, and found the okno's were smashed in, and the devotchka who ran it creeching "oh no, oh dear." with the red krovvey running down her goobers like. It was truly a pathetic sight, my brothers to see our street crasted first. In a hurry we walked down the street a little more to see five malchicks smeckin' away all hawhawhaw and govreeting in an excited sort of manner. These droogs were obviously new and had to be educated on who owned what.

"well, well, well, well, well, welly, well, I do believe we have a bunch of bratchny malchicks getting nice and buggaty off our cutter. The very prospect makes it sick to me guttiwutts," dim all the while smecking away at this, "well I do believe these young droogs need to be taught what belongs to who, right right?"

Again I was met with right, right, right by my faithful droogies. The leader of the other droogies who had a pot belly and was named Billy (me recognizing him from skolliwoll) took out his shining nozh as did the rest of his droogs. I myself had a cut-throat britva, Pete and Gerogie had nozhs, and dim himself being of brutish nature had an oozi double looped around his waist, which he swung now and was preparing to take out some glazzies. We were outnumbered five to four but Dim being the dirty, brutish fighter he was easily amounted to two of their droogs.

Billy lunged at me and I tolchocked him right in the rot, red krovvey flowed beautiful like as he creeched owwwwwwww. Dim was whipping his oozi against the other droogs glazzies and relished there creeches of pain. We all bit and kicked and slashed and cut, Billyboy in the fray tripped over a rock and I tolchocked him with my kicking boots while he was down as the red krovvy flowed nice and beautiful. Dim was whipping the already unconscious droogs he had tolchocked and was smeckin away in his Dim sort of way haw haw haw. The other droogs were tolchocked and cut and slashed and in the frenzy we loaded our pockets full with their ill gotten deng. We left the scene and headed home ways, we were shagged, and fagged, and tired from the night.