The Domeless Wonderboy

 The days had started to sort of blur together, brothers. They had lost their sharp edges that days usually have, the beginning and then coming the end. The beginning being when one wakes up in the morning and blinks the sleep glue and dreams from their glazzies and the end being when one floats off to dream land at nochy. But there was seamless, seeming never ending and especially cruel suffering Your Humble Narrator was going through at the raz.

It was the middle of the nochy, me being all on my oddy-knocky in my room like. I tried to drift off to the dream land, but I could not get me gulliver to quiet down enough for me to get any spatchka. I wanted baddiwadd to end the vonny and wretched day, but for some reason beyond, I would not let meself subconsciously. The old dream land would not swallow me whole and I could not pony why.

Even my pajamas seemed to be itchy and not so dobby this nochy, brothers. They were supposed to be the Height of Fashion when I first put them on my plott, brought to me by the doctors and nurse vecks who rabbited at this Ludovico's mesto. My stay here had turned into a real oozhassny raz. Just earlier in the evening, they had played a very particular Nazi film which had like lewdies with the red strict cross on their armbands and Jews snuffing it and suffering real horrorshow. But what I had realized through all of my suffering and sickness, was that the background score was none other than our old friend Ludwig van Beethoven. This had really shaken me, brothers, and I thought this be the reason I could not get any spatchka. I was too afraid, see, that I would feel sick whenever I slooshied my music from now on. I could never again lie on my back with my rookers folded across my brooko and slooshy for endless nochies the lovely shooms of the trumpeting trumpets or the sweet-toothed strings.

I could not decide whether I felt sick inside because I was so razdrez about my potential fate or if I was just worrying meself to near snuffing it. I was getting sick of staring at the white wall, my rookers lying flat underneath my cheek which rest sladkly on top of a feathery pillow. I rolled over like, heaving my plott out of the beddiwedd and grabbing both fistfuls of my voloss in my rookers. I squeezed my glazzies shut so intensely I could viddy spots of stars like forming across the blackness and turning the black to a soft red.

I exhaled abruptly, not noticing I had it held so tight like. There was a window, the curtains drawn, behind the head of my beddiwedd. I threw the curtains open and my hopes were not let down, brothers. There she was. The lovely Luna. A memory slides into my ooko and sparks in my gulliver and suddenly there's old Dim, his rot open like he was waiting for some insect to fly in and make itself comfortable. I sat crouched behind the Durango, mapping the parking lot just to make sure that no lewdies viddied us hopping into their auto and driving it away skorry and decided to phone the rozzes.

And there was Dim, the old dim, gazing up tenderly at the moon.

"What's up there, I wonder? What could be up there on things like that?"

I viddied him, irritated like that he was being a domeless wonderboy, and nudged him. He flipped his litso to me skorry like I'd snapped him out of some trance or some cal. "Come, gloopy bastard as thou art. Think thou not on them. There'll be life like down here most likely, with some getting knifed and others ding the knifing."

Now there she was, suspended like in the sky. And here I was, brothers, gazing up at her like a domeless wonderboy.

I pivoted away from the window and from the Luna, showing her my back and letting the moonlight cast a shadow around my back, pletchoes, and gulliver which displayed on the tile flooring in front of me. I stood there and felt like this like barrier I had built in meself where I was able to be razdrez inside but calm on the out. I felt the calmness deteriorating away and like falling onto the ground and melting into the moonlight. Music was all I had for my own self other than the old ultraviolence, but now that was going going going away with the sickness creeping up inside of my brooko every time I tried to viddy red krovvy flowing from a poor veck's nose in my mind's eye.

I decided I would allow myself this one time to exhibit a weakness inside me. I had to keep my calm, cool exterior but there were no other lewdies in this room with me at the very moment. I was all on my oddy knocky and I would behave accordingly.

I seized both handfuls of my long, untamed voloss tight between my clawing rookers and gave a guttural creech that I felt I had been holding in for a long long long time coming. Every vehsch that had happened to little Alex as you know me had just built and built and built like a bolshy, stony wall and I had to grab a hammer and tolchock it down, breaking it down to its smallest crumbles and bits. I creeched like that way until my rookers felt like tiny stars were pricking them with even malenkier needles and my gulliver felt stuffed with cotton and I realized that my glazzies had been leaking and now my litso was like wet and very hot.

I collapsed back onto my bed, bobbing slightly from the motion of the springy mattress. I felt truly pathetic like boo-hoo-hooing all on my oddy knocky in my room dressed in soft and comfortable platties for sleeping. I knew that I should have not spoken out of turn when the Governor had arrived to the old Staja. I had made the biggest mistake of my entire jeezny. Now I could not slooshy the lovely and beauteous sounds of Ludwig van who I so humbly admired and loved so. It felt like my jeezny would be over sooner or later now. Without my music to slooshy, what other drive did I have for myself other than the old ultraviolent side of me that was surely to be stopped by this Ludivico's Treatment they were putting me through.

I sat there on the side of my bed, rubbing my forehead with my rooker in malenky circles which felt therapeutic like. I could not stand not being able to slooshy my music. It was my music. It was one of the only vehshes I had loved in this cruel and cold world. And it was being taken away from me just like that.

I laid back down, feeling a lot dobbier than before I had creeched out and decided I might be able to get some spatchka once my tick tocker slowed down to a lazy pace. I folded my rookers on the side of my wet litso and sniffled my nose which had gotten a bit snotty. I felt disgusting and not very horrorshow.

But no veck would ever know that I had done what I did. I had to keep a calm demeanor and not show any weakness like. But being human requires you to be a bit weak and malenky sometimes. I felt like a gloopy mess but given what I was going through, it was excusable, my brothers. I hope none of you think lesser of Your Humble Narrator, little Alex-boy.

I let my glazzies close and viddied the dark of my lids. Patiently, my tick tocker slowed to a reasonable pace and no one ever knew I creeched in weakness. No one would expect such a vehsch from Alexander Thy Large, but there it was. There it was.