Chapter 5 Part 1 (2)

We came out of the "Duke of New York" and found a grunting old drunk leaning against the long window of the brightly lit main counter.He howled the bad songs sung by the older generation, and interspersed with sloppy interludes, as if there was a dirty band in his stinky belly.That's the kind of stuff I can't stand, a dirty, drunk guy singing and belching; no matter how old or young it is, but it's especially disgusting when it comes to an old man like that.He looks like he's flat against the wall, and the platties on him are really rotten, crumpled and full of shit and mud and stuff.So we caught him and gave him a good beating, but he kept on singing.The lyrics say:

After Dim punched the drunk man's dirty mouth a few times, he stopped singing and yelled, "Keep punching, kill me, you bastard, I don't want to live anyway, there's no point in this stinky world." I let Dim paused, because hearing this old bastard talk about life, about the world, would pique my interest.I said, "Oh, where is the smell?" He yelled: "Stinky is stinky. In the world, it is allowed to be young and grow old, just like you, no big or small, lawless." He shouted, waved his arms, and his words and sentences were very good; There was a strange porridge sound, like something was spinning inside, or like some reckless guy was making a sound trying to interrupt him, so the old man kept threatening with his fist and shouted: "It's not an old man's world now, and It means I'm not afraid of you at all. Dude, because I'm so drunk that you don't feel pain if you beat me, and you'd be happy to kill me." We laughed, grinned and didn't speak.He said: "What kind of world is it like now? Man lands on the moon, man revolves around the earth, just like moths circle around a lamp, and he no longer cares about the law and order on the earth. Just do all the evil things." , you filthy wretches." And then he gave us some lip music—"Boy boo boo boo," as we did to notes, and then he sang:

So we slapped him hard and laughed; he kept on singing, and then we tripped him, and he fell down hard, puffing up a keg of beer.That was disgusting, and we served in boots instead; each footed, and the next thing the old man spat out of his dirty mouth was not song or beer, but blood.We started off right away. Near the municipal power plant, we met Billy Boy and five buddies. Brothers, these days, most gangs consist of four or five people;Sometimes gangs can get together and form small units to fight nightly, but it's usually best to go out in small groups like this.Billy Boy is a disgusting thing, he has a fat and swollen smiling face, and he always smells like fried bottom oil, even if he wears the best platties, like today, they They saw us at the same time, and there was a very quiet look at each other.This time it's real, this time it's official; there's a knife, there's a chain, there's a razor, not just fists and boots.Billyboy and his gang had stopped what they were doing, which was preparing to do violence to a weeping little girl who stopped there, not ten years old, and screaming, but the platties hadn't torn yet. Billyboy and his second brother Leo each grabbed her hand.They're probably finishing up the swearing part before the action, and then they're doing some super-violence.Seeing us approaching, they let go of the whimpering chick, there are many such chicks in her place anyway, she lifts her thin white legs and flashes in the night, screaming "oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo" .I'm grinning, dude: "Whoa, isn't that the poisoned stinky fat Billy the lewd goat - Billyboy. Hi there, you bottle of stinky fried potato base, bring the egg sacks over to eat Kick it, you eunuch embryo, if you have egg sacks." And then we got into action.

We were four to six, as I said, but poor Dim, though he was a little clumsier, was good enough for three in a mad fight.There is a long and bright chain hidden around his waist, which has been looped twice and can be danced as soon as it is untied, which is really beautiful.Peter and George's knives are also sharp.As for me, I have a good old straight razor that shines brightly and artistically when I swing it.The two of us fought fiercely in the dark night, the already inhabited moon palace had just risen, and the starlight pierced the darkness, shining like knives eager to fight.I took the razor right across the front of one of Billyboy's men, Platy, very, very cleanly, without touching any flesh.This guy suddenly discovered that he was exposed like a pod, his belly was exposed, and the poor egg bag was also seen, so he was in a mess, screaming while waving, and his defense was obviously neglected.Dim took the opportunity to swing the chain whistling and snaking, hitting him in the eye all at once.Billyboy's buddy waddled away, howling like hell.We did well, and soon trampled Billyboy's cock, who was blinded by Dim's chain, and scrambled and barked like a beast, and set a fine boot on Gulliver, He's out and out.

Among the four of us, Dim looked the most messed up as usual, you can see that his face was bloody and his platties were a dirty mess, while the others remained calm and unscathed.Now I'm going to straight up Billy Boy's fat head, I'm dancing around with a straight razor, like a barber boarding the bow of a boat, trying to cut a few beautiful cuts on the dirty oily face of.The opponent also had a knife, a long-handled switchblade, but it was too slow and clumsy to do real damage in a fight.Brothers, stepping on the waltz - the second and third from the left, the second and third from the right - cut the left cheek, cut the right cheek, each cut makes me intoxicated and happy, resulting in two streams of blood hanging down at the same time, under the winter night starlight , one on each side of the greasy fat sheep's nose.The blood was running down like a red curtain, but Billyboy didn't seem to notice, he kept stumbling around like a dirty fat bear, struggling to get his knife at me.

That's when we heard the police car and knew the police had arrived, and the pistol was loaded and pointed out the car window.No doubt the crying chick called the police, the alarm box is behind the power plant, not far away, "Get yours done soon, no problem," I yelled, "Smelly Billy is a sheep, I will be beautiful Cut off your egg sacks." They fled northward to the river, panting slowly, leaving only the second brother, Leo, lying on the ground panting, and we ran in the opposite direction, the next turn. There was an alley there, dark and empty, with both ends connected. We rested in it, breathing from fast to slow, and finally became normal.There are apartment buildings on both sides, making people feel like they are at the foot of two unattainable mountains, and blue lights can be seen dancing in the windows of the apartments.This is TV. Tonight there is a so-called global broadcast. All people in the world, mainly middle-aged people in the middle class, can watch the same program when they turn on the TV.Some goofy famous comedian or black singer comes on, and it's all bounced off a rebroadcast satellite from outer space.We waited panting, only to hear the police car drive east, and we knew we were all right.From time to time poor Dim looked up at the stars and the palace of the moon, with his mouth open, like a child who has never seen such things, and he asked:

"Don't know what's in there. What's going to happen to something like that?" I shoved him hard and said, "Oh, you stupid bastard, don't think about that stuff. There's probably life like here, some people get knifed, some people get stabbed, let's hit the road while it's still early in the night, brother you." The others laughed it off, but poor Dim looked at me gravely, and then up at the stars, and at the moon.We headed down the alley, with global broadcasts blu-raying on both sides.Now there is a lack of a car, so we turned left after exiting the alley, and we knew we were in Priestley Square as soon as we saw the bronze statue of the ancient poet. pipe.We headed north to the dirty old movie theater, because few people visit, the outer wall is falling down, only my little brothers and I usually go there, just to shout, dig bricks and plan walls, or in the dark In the middle of the day, have some pumping and pumping activities with the chicks.There are spots caused by throwing mud on the front of the movie theater. From the above poster, you can see the usual cowboy carnival scene. The ambassadors stand beside the American horse coffin and shoot at the horse thieves sent by the Hell Fighting Team. The dirt thing was originally launched by the National Film Company. The cars parked next to the movie theater are not high-end, most of them are old and broken cars, but there is a Durango 95 that is probably new. I think it can be driven. George's key There was a so-called master key on the lap, and we were in the car quickly, with Dim and Peter in the back seat, smoking carcinogens like the grand lords.I ignited and started, the motor roared beautifully, and a warm and vibrating feeling immediately penetrated my heart.Then I hit the gas and backed up comfortably without anyone around seeing us pull the car away.

We wandered around what people call the backwoods, frightening the old people and women who crossed the road, or wriggling and chasing cats and dogs, and then we drove west. There was not much traffic on the road, and I stepped on the gas. The floor of the car was trampled, and the Durango Ninety-Five devoured the road like eating noodles, and soon saw a forest in winter, which was dark; brothers, it was the darkness of the countryside.I ran over a big guy once, and all I saw in the headlights was a big howling, toothy mouth, and it fell down screaming and smacking, and Dim in the back seat laughed, almost A little laugh out loud.Then, we saw a young man with a chick doing that kind of business under the tree, so we stopped to cheer for them, and then half-heartedly pushed them a few times, and after making them cry, we continued on the road up.The next thing to look for is the old-fashioned way, to be an uninvited guest.That one is really exciting enough to provide plenty of jokes and big fights for the ultra-violent.

We finally came to a village, and there was a single-family cottage outside the village, and a small garden.At that time, the moon palace had already risen high, I drove slowly and slowed down, and after braking, I could clearly see the hut.The other three were giggling like crazy, but saw that the big characters on the gate were "home", a silly name.I got out of the car, ordered my men not to laugh, to be serious, and I opened the small gate and walked to the front door.I knocked politely, but no one came, knocked again, and heard someone coming, and then the latch was pulled, and the door was opened about an inch, and I could see this one eye watching me, and the door was pulled by a chain. "Hey, who is it?" It was a chick's voice, and it sounded like a young girl's voice, so I said in a very elegant tone in a gentleman's way:

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you. My friend and I were out for a walk. I never thought that my friend suddenly became ill. It was very troublesome. He was on the road outside, unconscious and moaning. May I ask you to show mercy? May I borrow a phone to call an ambulance?" "We don't have a phone," said the chick. "Sorry, I don't have a phone, call somewhere else." I heard the sound of "slap, tap, tap, tap" from inside the hut, someone was typing, and then the typing stopped, and the voice of this person shouted: "What's the matter, dear?"

"Well," I said, "would you be merciful and offer him a glass of water? You see, he seems to be fainting. It must be a fit of dizziness." The chick hesitated for a moment and said, "Wait a minute." Then she walked away, and the three men got out of the car quietly, sneaked close to the hut, and put on their masks.At this moment, I also put on a mask, and things will be easy in the future.I reached out and disengaged the chain.Since I softened the chick's vigilance with my gentlemanly words, she didn't close the door dead as usual.We are strangers breaking into houses at night.The four of us rushed in; Dim, as usual, acted like a fool, jumping up and down, singing obscenities.I must say that the inside of the cottage is quite an elegant room.Everyone laughed and entered the lighted room, only to see the chick flinching, this young and beautiful chick with a pair of real breasts, next to her man, also younger, wearing horn-rimmed glasses.There was a typewriter on the table, and various documents were scattered here and there, but there was a small stack of papers that he must have just typed, so here came another smart-looking scholar, very similar to the one I fooled a few hours ago, but, This person is the author.Not a reader.Just listen to him say: "What is this for? Who are you? How dare you break into my house without permission?" His voice was trembling, and so were his hands, I said: "Don't be afraid. If you are afraid, brother, please dispel it quickly." George and Peter went off to the kitchen, and Dim stood beside me serving, mouth open. "What is this for?" I picked up the stack of typed paper from the table, and the man with horn-rimmed glasses said tremblingly: "That's exactly what I want to know. What is this for? What do you want? Get out immediately, lest I drive you away." After hearing this, the silly Dim in Shelley's mask laughed like a beast roaring. "Is it a book?" I said. "Are you writing a book?" I made my voice hoarse. "I have always had a great admiration for people who can write books." I looked at the top page, which had the title on it, and said, "That's a silly title. Who's ever heard of it?" A clockwork sweet orange?" Then I read the fragment in a high-pitched preacher's voice: "—force the vigorous, sweet-smelling human to squeeze out the last round of orange juice to feed the bearded lips of God , Ouch, the laws and conditions that apply mechanically only to mechanical devices, I will criticize this—” Dim made a lip music again, and I couldn’t help laughing.So I tore the paper and scattered the pieces on the floor.The writer in glasses was very annoyed. He gritted his teeth and rushed towards me, showing his yellow teeth and poking his claw-like nails.That's Dim's signal to act, grinning ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. , wherever you want, the same texture everywhere, like from the same big company - oozes out, stains the clean rug, stains the shreds of the book I'm still tearing apart, tearing, tearing, the whole process In the middle, the chick, his devoted and beloved wife, stood transfixed by the hearth, and now she let out little shrieks, as if in time with Dim's old punches.At this moment, George and Peter came out of the kitchen, chewing loudly at the same time, although they were still wearing masks, which is no problem to eat.George clutched a cold leg in one hand, half a loaf of bread with a hunk of butter in the other; Peter a beer bottle foaming at the mouth, and a handful full of raisin cake.They yelled ho ho ho and watched Dim dance around and beat up the writer; the writer started yelling like his life was ruined and yelled bloody chants but he was answered by a man with a mouthful of food Ho-ho-ho-could see the pieces they were eating.I didn't like that, I felt my saliva was dirty, so I reprimanded: "Spit it out. Who approved you to do this? Grab this guy, let him see clearly, and don't allow him to escape." So they took off the fat from their mouths, put them in the pile of flying papers on the table, and hit To the writer, the kid's horn glasses are smashed, but still hanging, and the Dim is still dancing, shaking the mantelpiece. Well, little brothers, he continued to tease the author until his face was so red and purple that it dripped like some special kind of juice. "All right, Dim," I said. "Send the other one now, God bless you guys." He clasped his hands behind his back to the chick, who was screaming and screaming all the while in a beautiful four-beat rhythm.I ripped this, ripped that, ripped something else, and the other two went on ho ho ho ho, that's a good pair of tits, and showing their bright red eyes, man.I took off my trousers and started to sprint; then there was a terrible scream, and the bloody writer George and Peter were holding was screaming, and almost broke free, swearing dirty words, some of which I heard Been there, he made some, and it was Dim's turn after me, he growled like a beast, and the Shelley mask remained the same, and I grabbed her.Then we switch, and Dim and I hold the drooling writer, who's too weak to struggle, just like in a milk bar hallucination, talking listlessly, and letting Peter and George go about their business.It was rather quiet after that.We were so resentful that we smashed the things that were left unbroken—typewriters, lamps, chairs.Dim's old bout relapsed, fetched water to put out the fireplace, was about to shit on the carpet, there was a lot of poop paper, but I drank it. "Get out, get out," I snarled, and the writer and his wife were unconscious, bleeding, moaning, but not dead. We hopped into the waiting car, and I let George drive, feeling a little tired; we ran over screaming monsters all the way back to town.