Aleco Langdon//District 8

Clockwork means mechanically responsive. You just do whatever old bag tells you and ya don't really have a choice in the matter. That's what millicents want me to be, but I'm not that easily tamed. I guess in all honesty I'm a real baddiwad. After all I do follow the three big Cs in life: crack, crark, and crast, which for you less cultured folk means breaking, screamin' and stealing. What else is there to do in life besides swipe from the people who are too rich for their own good? Or too good for their own good. There are lewdies like that, you know. The goody two shoes, ribbon wearin' godmen who flounce around like they're so much better than you. Well, no charlie ever lived as much in eighty years than I have in a day! They say I'm bolnoy but what do they know? They're the ones that're sick. They're the ones who are so afraid of dyin' they they forget to live. I know what I'm doing with my years and it's making as big of a scar on this earth as I can before they drag me to hell.

Music is a real passion of mine. I enjoy the many anthems and tunes that play over the Games program. Really intense, with deep sounds but also high notes that make your toes tingle. Don't ever, ever try to govoreet to me when a song is one because you will regret it- I promise you that. You don't mess with one of the greatest art forms left in this world to lewdies. I mean if a man can't even enjoy someone singing, then Ripred help that poor bratchny.

You know what I love? A real nice, real pretty devotchka. A lot of people do I suppose, but sometimes I'm completely overcome with how nice it is to feel their skin, of course I don't usually see the same one twice. After a night with me they tend not to stick around. Who needs them when I have me brats to keep me company? Who needs affection when you can break glass- or bone? Glass makes a very nice sound when it shatters- a sharp sound that feels you from head to toe. Bone is better to feel. When you have your hands wrapped around some malchick's arm and with a quick twist in the wrong direction- crack.

I do tend to ramble, don't I? Well, more about me- hmm I taught you the three Cs but do you know the two Ds? They're all live in the same house but some times it is a dratsing and drencrom kind of night. Which is basically the same as a tree C nochy only with less crasting and more nozhes. Of course The double D nights (see what I did there, mate?) tend to be more dangerous, after all rozzes and regular ol' oranges alike don't tend to take to well to casual oobivating. I mean neither do I, what kind of person would I be if I condoned such behavior. I'd have to be some kind of monster to think openin' up a ded's gorlo would cause any feelings of pleasure. After all I'm a good veck. I don't touch a dama harshly either. I do what every upstanding man does- I buy a sooka. After all when you live the noble life of ultra-violence you don't have a lot of time for a real zhenna. Besides, I don't really see myself living to be a dedoochka.

The way I see it, life on this muddy little rock of ours is futile. All the cal about things happening for a reason and higher purpose is all bullshit to me. There's no use trying to make yourself memorable for any good deeds here, especially in these shit hole districts. You work and then you die- sometimes you even get to die on the telly. So if I want to drink til my guttiwuts fall out, I will! I'll get grahzny and I'll be an nadmenny prick- I'll oobivat and peet and do whatever I very well please. I wanna live my life real horrorshow like. I want to my life to the fullest- and that doesn't mean being elected mayor if you catch my drift. People will remember- that's for sure, and my memory will stick around a lot longer than some stiff in a suit.

Oh, so this is the part where I talk about how my dreadful home life has made me the monster that I am today? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint because, frankly, my pee and em are right normal folk. You never would have guessed it how I turned out, would ya? They're not exactly proud of me, in fact I believe I have installed a permanent feeling of strack in both of them. They think I'm out studying every night- isn't that a laugh? They have a rough idea of what I do when I leave the house but they haven't dared confront me about it so I quite like my situation. My folks and I, we aren't dirt poor or anything. Both of them work so we always have just enough cutter for everything we need. Of course I tend to spend a little more on my special effects. They wanted to take me to one of those starry doctors in the square. Em is always trying to get me to eat more bread- one of her gossipy friends told her that it would help with violent behavior which is a bolshy load of cal. You can see it in their eyes that they're worried what I do, but they never say anything out right- not to me. Oh no, we must keep Aleco happy or else he'll sneak into our rooms at night and stick a nozh in our keeshkas! It's rather amusing watching them scramble... has it always been like this? Have they been terrified of me since I was little?

Enough of them, you want to hear about me after all. Let's see, the first time I ever tolchocked somebody I was around five and the Games were on the worldcast and one of the tributes beat another kid's head in with a rock. Krovvy everywhere, all over the corpse and all over the murderer. Not knowing any better, I went outside, picked up a rock and threw it at the neighbor girl who was drawing with a stick in the dirt. Hit her right between her pigtails. It was a zammechat thing, that was. Something I've never forgotten. Every year on the anniversary of dear Sally's death, I like to reenact it. Of course my aim isn't what it used to be and it's a lot harder to vred a bum when they're running away from you so, naturally, I've had to change my methods- but it is always with a rock. In memory of the ptitsa who opened my eyes to what life could be. It could be mine- all dripping in red and free of any order. Just chaos where I reigned over it all.

Besides that I always have a few droogs around to take the fall or run errands. Like a shaika of sorts, but I like to think of it as colleagues. To be fair we are a right attractive group- we all wear white at night because then if blood is split, the color really pops. None of that dull brownish shit. I mean, if you're gonna beat up a guy at least be proud of it. We just walk around at night, maybe a shlaga in hand, looking for trouble. Of course, sometimes trouble finds us and it makes the whole process a lot easier. Then there's the rozz that come in and ruin all the fun. Most of the time, though, they don't notice us- if you saw some men in all white hitting up on a bum would you think it was troubled teenagers or Peacekeepers? It's all quite funny when you think about it.

So now you know it all. I'm a real scoteena but then again, isn't everybody?

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Odair

Part of the Library Plot representing A Clockwork Orange

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