Like a Babe in Arms

The home we bounded to this nochy of ultraviolence with our veins soaked with traces of drencrom was a bit of a challenging crast. Most nights we fillied around with buggaty vecks who were rather starry and their cheenas who would do nothing but creech and creech when we tore her platties away to reveal her stark white skin that shuddered under the touch of Alexander Thy Large. But the domy we had decided to crack the glass windows of this nochy was a bit of a different one.

The reasoning behind the difficult crast, you inquire? Why, that would be the fault of my dim droog who were named rightfully so. Dim.

The four of us, dressed in stark white, slunk through the lavish back lawn of a bolshy, decorated domy. It was a delicate blue, the shutters painted black. I imagined myself pounding my boot into the litso of the starry veck who lived here and the grin that pulled at one side of my rot. Or, if they were not home, we would bash out a window and leap inside to take as many valuables we could later pawn off in exchange for cutter. Perhaps I could pre-order a new record to take a spin on my player in my room.

Georgie slid up in front of me, the moonlight dancing across his litso, creating strange shadows across his features. His voloss stuck out to the sides, his schlapa a bit crooked from running like.

"And you, Alex, what have you for the front door?" he presses me. He were acting like this was his idea and I were just an accessory of his. I did not very much like this, brothers.

"That's no business of yours, brother," I whisper back at him, halted in my tracks. I stab my sheathed nozh at the soft soil that resided under the green, green grass beneath us. Dim and Pete have slowed, noticing the two of us malchicks whispering in our spots. "Leave it to me and lend me your trust."

Georgie lowers his head, his glazzies just shining at me in the moonlight. His shoulders rise and fall as he sighs.

"O-kay, little Alex," he whispers, lowering his goloss to match mine own. "I trust you, don't misinterpret the intention behind my asking you, droogie."

I flare my nostils and tip my litso up, swinging my nozh up sideways so I could grab it in my other rooker and hold it there at my waist. "Worry not, Georgie-boy. The only veshch you've to worry about is following me."

I saunter past him, my shoulder brushing his, and Dim and Pete both give me a look that is easily translatable as "is everything all right?"

"Come now," I whisper, waving my rooker and bending over so if someone peeked out the window they would not viddy us ittying up to their domy. The short version of what happened next, my little brothers, was that I strolled right up to the front door and used their knocking device to bang-bang-bang on the wooden, gargantuan vehsch. My three droogs, hiding beside the house as they were, were watching me with suspicious glazzies. I had never approached breaking in this way before. Up front and personal with whoever owned this particular domy.

A few beats pass before I hear a lock slip out of place and the door rushes in. Standing there, bathed in a warm yellow glow of a chandelier above the foyer, is a veck who must be just approaching his middle years. He had curly brown voloss and a rounded voloss with a pair of otchkies sitting atop his nose. His smile dropped when he viddied my outfit.

"Hello," he says, spiking his eyebrows like. He acted like I was being a real bother to him and he had more important veshchs to get back to tending to.

"He-llo," I say, my hands behind my back, holding my nozh, putting on my shiny gentleman's grin. "How're you this nochy, brother?"

He rubs his arms like he's just noticed the cold which are covered in a lush fabric of cashmere. My hungry glazzies feast on the watch wrapped round his wrist.