Hi hi hi there! I haven't written in quite a while, so here's the long awaited chapter 5. I am so happy with the reviews and I felt motivated to write once more. :D My dear droogie, TheWeaselyBoys, asks:

"I just have a few questions about these new words...what do the words 'tomtick', 'chasso', 'dorogoy', and 'kopat' mean?"

For some reason, I suppose people have forgotten to add those in the online glossary and I have found out about them in some other website. Tomtick means "bit", chasso means "guard", "dorogoy" means dear or valuable, and kopat means "dig".

Now, here's chapter 5!

Chapter 5

The afternoon ball of red hot flames beats down on our gullivers, O my brothers, as Riley and Yours Truly gooly about into the streets of Borehamwood, the hard tension between us drawing quite a wedge between us dva. It is then I finally notice this malenky devotchka is wearing; A loose fitting light gray tank top that has this adorable carman resting on her right bolshy-groodied, tight black jeans and the same black ballet flats that she arrived in my domy dva days back, O my brothers. She carries with her a small black purse with like long straps, and on top of her gulliver is a black beret, and I am almost reminded of my dorogoy starry droogie, Peter Tarn. Or as I like to eemya him, just "Pete" for short.

Pete and his zheena, Georgina, are still very much together and in love. Almost makes me bolnoy to my brooko, really. Every other Sunday morning, I like to itty to his mesto to visit the couple, and the last raz I was there, they were like govoreeting about like baby showers, clear glass rattles and the fainting of Pete when Georgina tells him the grand news of her being pregnant, O my brothers. I messel he would react that way, since he's such a weak malenky nazz. Never the less, he and I still communicate through like these e-mails and snail mail alike, and he and I would sometimes visit a restaurant to lovet up on each others jeeznies since our long-ago days of being in a shaika.

Today, being a Thursday afternoon would mean that in a few more days, I get to viddy Pete and Georgina again. I can only hope Georgina doesn't make fun of my accent and my Nadsat slang anymore like she always did. Or how she's always teasing me about not wanting to settle down and marry a nice dama someday…

"What govoreets you about marriage?" I slooshy myself suddenly and abruptly govoreet, stopping dead in my tracks and feeling a malenky tomtick uncomfortable, O my brothers. Riley stops where I am and frowns at Yours Truly.

"Marriage? But I'm just six months shy of being eighteen… I don't suppose guys would," She smots down at the cement street with embarrassment, "Want to settle down right this second at my age…"

She's seventeen? That explains her otherwise molodoy appearance.

I viddy at her, my bratties, and she smots at Your Humble Narrator with like curiosity spiking her coal coloured glazzies, "Why do you govoreet that, Riley-dorogoy? You don't seem very confident about yourself… Why I'm sure any chelloveck would be feeling like, happy… or something… to ask for your rook in marriage, righty right?"

She thins her goobers while she stands there, thinking… But in the end, she only shrugs and goolies on ahead of Your Humble Narrator, "We should hurry."

I viddy after her with like a disappointing shaking of my gulliver before following her alas. Has she really already forgiven me after what I did to her back there in my mesto? Is she really that patient?

I couldn't myself anymore questions, you viddy. I'll only have to figure all of this in like silence and with like patience, O my brothers.

The grocery store is half full of lewdies shopping in silence, the only zvook I could slooshy are the shuffling of their nogas moving around and trying to find whatever it is they need to find and like shvat domy to scarf down. I could also slooshy, in that very cold cold air is this hound-and-horny tune fillying, I suppose to fill in the awkward silences between the employees and customers.

Riley takes this bright red coloured plastic basket to do her shopping, and like the surprisingly obedient dog I follow her as she makes her trip down the many different aisles. I idly nachinat to think about the new Ludovico Treatment, who the new hoodlum must be, if I maybe knew him from back long ago, if he (or she?) is the same age as I was when I was receiving the Ludovico Treatment… It is like a very very cruel joke set upon Uncle Alex to worry and stress over when he could easily just ignore it and like move along with like the rest of the normal lewdies of the world…

But I can't. I couldn't. It infests my messels day in and day out.

Riley already sobiratted the carton of eggiwegs, the gallon of moloko, a bag of sakar, vanilla extract, and even a box of that gloopy Betty Crocker's cake mix in that very special and delicious Dark Chocolate flavor. Riley seems to know what the hell she's doing… I wonder if she's some sort of expertise of Home Economics? Is she sneeting of being like some sort of housewife, baking fluffy goods and cleaning the domy in that Pine fresh scented cal that's popular with like most other middle aged soomkas?

"You're baking a cake for us?" I ask simply with like a devious grin, snatching the cake mix box out of her rooker and stare it with like a smirk, "Are you Betty Crocker herself?"

"Perhaps," Riley shrugs, reaching over to get a bag of flour to put into her plastic basket, "I like to bake cakes and your parents wanted me to bake them one tonight."

"This nochy?" I inquire, placing the box back into the basket before smirking downward at her, "You've done this many razzes before, I viddy?"

She nods with like like a prideful malenky cheek-splitting smile, O my bratties. Her zoobies are so white, and her glazzies are so dark… Like beautiful, silver-like piano klootches.

"You need to give Uncle Alex a bolshy lomtick of that cake this nochy then," I govoreet airily, placing my rook on her pletcho and giving that threateningly squeeze, making her freeze in mesto, "Or else…"

Riley viddies up at Your Humble Narrator with like some shilarny before I itty down and give her a skorry peck on the top of her gulliver, and she gives me an awkward yet sladky smile at me, O my brothers. I'll have to remember to mess with like her even more this nochy to serve me a nice nochy to cap off this entire day on a real dobby note.

I let go of her and itty on ahead, absentmindedly smotting at all the different materials and pischa that is being like sold in this mesto. I nachinat to travel on my oddy knocky and ookadetted Riley in some aisle, because now I'm in the aisle where they sell like many different books and magazines. And, oh- Gazettas as well.

I find myself messing around with like the different plott building magazines, guffing a malenky tomtick at the ridiculous pictures of real dobby strong chellovecks who smot like they're ready to explode from all that testosterone, O my brothers. I wonder if these are what cheenas find attractive these days… I am a tomtick skinny but I do know how to drat like no other can, and that to Your Humble Narrator, is enough. Still, I shvat a mental note of their suggestion in the magazine- Something about protein shakes and what it can do for chellovecks, and I put the magazine back before heading on to the malenky gazetta stand.

My brothers, it was like a nightmare coming true; Right in front me stares back dva sad smottovat glazzies at me, glazzies that smot so sodding familiar to me, and I realize who I'm staring at… It is a molodoy hoodlum, about fifteen or sixteen, with like bright blue glazzies and fair luscious glory in a wavy tsunami cascading all around his litso. Nowadays, some gazetta such as this odin that I'm viddying at right now, has taken a brand new trend of applying colours to their pages, and I can viddy all the colorful details of the raskazz of the molodoy hoodlum who is loveted and treated with like the new Ludovico Treatment…

"Caught! Scientists ready and excited for Ludovico Part 2 to be tested on young ruffian." it reads in bold black slovos, O my brothers. That malenky malchick looks exactly like me, and it's what pooglies me the most… It is like staring into your past and find yourself smottovat at your younger self, all shaking and weepy and scared, and you can't help but want to be sick.

I snatch the gazetta out and open it up, frantically ittying through the pages to find the raskazz in a sweaty poog, O my brothers. I turn and turn and ignore the short dama that is staring up and down at Your Humble Narrator with like a shilarnying frown, almost wanting to ask me what's wrong but my piercing blue glazzies viddied at her in that warningly harsh glare that instead pooglies her off to gooly some mesto else. I turn to odin more page before I viddy another picture of the loveted hoodlum, his arms behind his back and wearing an orange jumpsuit with like a picture of several clock gear designs on the front of the jumpsuit, all varying in different sizes. His wide blue glazzies viddies back at me with like fear, his bottom goober all busted and dripping out of that red red red kroovy that's almost covers his entire chin.

I close the gazetta and mesto it under my rock, determine to have Riley kupet it for me so that I can continue to read more of it back domy. I can feel a cold sweat skorry rush down the side of my litso, rushing on ahead so that I can find Riley and get out of this mesto in odin lomtick before I explode in a raging Ultra-Violence. The lewdies viddied at Your Humble Narrator, and I am not sure if it's because they still remember Your Humble Narrator as that malchick who was loveted by the rozzes and tested by the first Ludovico Treatment tree years ago… Or if I just look like a right maniac getting ready to snuff everybody in sight, O my brothers. Either way, it serves me horrorshow, because they all skorry got out of my way as I gooly past them in a hurry, and I can feel myself elated once I spot a short dama with like long mousy-brown luscious glory and the infamous black purse…

"Kupet this." I simply sovietted before slapping the gazetta into her red basket. She jumps a malenky tomtick before peering down at the front of the gazetta curiously.

"What… what's th—"

"You're next." I growl before pushing her up to the checkout, and the employee behind the pretty polly register stared at me with like much venom in her green glazzies.

"Is there a problem?" The green-glazzed bitch asks in that acidic tone, tapping her long nail on the metal table veshch in front of her. I'm betting she thinks that we're some sort of couple and I'm the bolshy baddiwad boyfriend who tolchocks my girlfriend. She's half right, of course.

"There will be if you don't hurry up and do your sodding rabbit." I growl right back at her, and she responds by avoiding my gaze and opening the pretty polly register out in front of her.

Riley skorry gets all of the veshches out of the basket and on to the rook of the checkout dama, where she crasts the objects over this red light and I can feel my insides loosening up with like every beeping shoom I slooshy.

"That'd be thirty dollars, please." The checkout bitch dully announces to Riley, before I can viddy Riley reach into her purse and fish out dva twenty-golly bills and a coupon. O, oomny dama!

After everything has been wrapped in the plastic bags, Riley carries dva of them and I carry the other dva. We come out of that cold mesto and I sigh in comfort once I can feel the warm afternoon sun's rays beating down on Your Humble Narrator once more, O my brothers. I know I must have caused much shilarny in Little Riley, because she's smottovat at me with like genuine shilarny and like fear in her glazzies.

I pay no rassoodock to her, though. I just want to itty domy and finish the rest of the gazetta.