humor“What’s it going to be then, eh?”
There was me, that is Rupert, and my three droogs, that is Sean, Glenn, and Rush, Rush being really fat, and we sat in the Fox News Milkbar, making up our rassodocks what to do with the evening. (For defs of “rassodocks” and other Nadsat words visit http://pages.nyu.edu/~jmp203/clockwork.html.) The Fox News Milkbar was a milk-plus mesto. They sold milk plus something else. You could peet milk with knives in it, as we used to say, to sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old razrez. We were getting ready for a malenky bitva with the Commicoms, as we used to call the Liberals. We were horrorshow sharp that night, so we ittied from the Milkbar and went up Independence Avenue past the Congresseum.
It was a dark nochy and no millicents or rozzes around, so we were surprised to see this starry Congrusome veck coming out of the Congresseum with a big pile of papers under his arm, so we goolied up to him, very polite, and I said: “Pardon me, brother.”
When he viddied the four of us, he went all milky-pale, but said: “Yes? What is it?” in a very loud goloss to show us he wasn’t poogly and to try to get the attention of the millicents, if any were around. However, ever since me and my TEA Party droogs had been like terrorizing the Commicoms, they had been afraid to impose any taxes; so most of the millicents were like laid off.
I said, all bourgeois: “I see you have a bill under your arm, brother. It is indeed a rare pleasure these days to come across somebody that still legislates, brother.”
“Oh,” he said, all shaky. “Is it? Oh, I see.”
“Yes,” I said. “It would interest me if you would allow me to see what bill that is you have under your arm.” And then Glenn skvatted the bundle of papers from him and handed it to me, so I opened it up and said: “Excellent, really bubblicious,” turning the pages. Then I said in a very stern goloss, “But what is this? What is this scummy slovo? This is a national health plan. You are trying to change things! You disappoint me, brother, I am shocked, shocked,”and I started to rip up the pages.
“But, but, but laws are supposed to change things,” the starry Congrusome started to skazat, real skorry, so Rush let him have one in his toothless rot with his ringy fist and the old veck began this horrorshow boohoohoo that gave us a bolshy smeck.
“We don’t want no vonny changes, you starry bratchny,” I creeched. “We don’t want no vonny government; we don’t want no vonny taxes; we don’t want no vonny Social Security; we don’t want no vonny Medicare; and we sure as Rove is a saint don’t want no Commicom health reform.”
“If you don’t have taxes, you don’t have any government services,” he said. “You won’t have any police protection, you won’t have any fire fighters, you won’t have any roads.”
Me and my droogs had a horrorshow smeck over that one. Like we wanted millicents and fire fighters around! We, who thrived on ultra-violence, would want to be taxed to pay for millicents to bother us. We, who torched things for fun would want fire fighters spoiling our conflags. The starry veck was nazz. We didn’t even need roads–we only ever crasted Hummers and other vehics that could be driven over hedges and pedestrians and Priuses and other such vesches that got in our way.
I was getting bolnoy with all this gabble-gobble, so I told Rush to quieten him down, which he did with great energy, smiting him on the gulliver with a stick and punching him in the rot until the red, beautiful blood was coming real skorry, while Sean and Glenn tore off his platties. We left the starry Congrusome chumbling nagoy on the ave in a pool of blood and piss–he having lost control of his water–and ittied off in search of more fun.
John B. Payne, Attorney
Garrison LawHouse, PC
Dearborn, Michigan 313.563.4900
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 800.220.7200
law-business.com ©2010 John B. Payne, Attorney