My Malenky Pink Devotchka
"Not so bad? Please! They’re a buncha losers!"
"Oh, c’mon now. “Losers” might be a little strong, don’cha think?"
"After the way they treated you? I say “losers” isn’t strong enough."
"Well, it was pretty rude..."
"Pretty rude? It was down right deeespicable!"
"It was, wasn’t it?"
"If I were you, I wouldn’t speak to them ever again."
"You know what? I’m not gonna speak to them ever again. And I’m not gonna invite them to another party as long as I live! They don’t deserve to be invited to my parties. Not after the way they’ve been acting."
"Deeespicable!"
"Such losers!"
"Yes, zat’s right."
"Well done."
"Yeah!"
"You show ’em!"
Viddy this, if you will, oh my brothers. Surely my gulliver had to have let flow the red red kroovy and I was certainly imagining all this...a pink pony, a devotchka, by the sound of her voice, was like, talking to her lonesome, with only a bag of flour, a turnip and a pile of rocks to keep her company. She had clearly gone bidy bye and all sorts of bezoomy, like someone had tolchocked her a time too many.
I look down and viddy myself to be what she was, that being a four legged animal with a tail and everything. Looking between my legs I noted with great relief that I had a pair of yarbles. I was, indeed, a malchick and not a ptista like my pink counterpart. From my corner of the room, I saw she had, like, three balloons decorating her bum. I look down me own bum and viddy an eyeball being cut into by a switchblade nohz, the fore mentioned eye wearing a bowler-type schlapa, like one me meself had worn before doing time in the sodding staja.
Not near used to my new body, as of yet, oh my brothers, I reach up and pat me gulliver, and somehow, without digits, that is to say, fingers, I grab my very own bowler and take a viddy at it. By this time I notice my malenky pink devotchka has taken a noticing of me, your humble narrator. I simply look up, acknowledge her, take my bowler in my...would you believe, my hoof? I take my bowler, cross it over my chest, and bow to her.
"Afternoon, madame. Pleasant day, is it not? I apolly ologize for being in your domicile like this, but I can't really explain how I came to be here. Only thing I can near figure is that I did, indeed snuff it. Anyway, halabaloo, my name is Alex. Who art thou?"
She viddied me for a moment or two, whether she was more confused up stairs by my appearance or by my vocalization of my nadsat figure of speaking I couldn't begin to wonder.
"Hmm...Alex, huh? Well, I don't remember you. Madame Le Flour, sure. Rocky, Mr. Turnip and Sir Lintsalot, too. I invited them to my party. But you..."
Then, would you believe, she actually took out a piece of paper, a guest list like, and began to viddy the names written thereupon. She must have checked for my name two or three times before she gave me a viddy, and then viddied the list again. She finally put down the list and then strolly rolled over to me and gave me a good look over.
"A party, is it? Well, you seem to be lacking in the entertaining department. This party isn't so well, now is it? If I could, I'd like to bring my own brand of entertainment. Really horrowshow, if you take my fancy."
"Horrowshow? What, like a movie?"
"Oh, my little devotchka, no. Horrowshow means good! I mean to provide you with good entertainment! We should go out and have a great time! Forget these cruel lewdies you've been going on about!"
"Hmm...I guess I could use some cheering up. Did you know my friends have been avoiding me all day? They went behind my back and made up all sorts of excuses as to why they wouldn't come to my pet alligator's after birthday party! Can you believe that?"
"The nerve! What a rotten thing to do!" I decide to play along, to placate this pink pony, as it were. Certainly she had a pet alligator. I must have tolchocked my gulliver something fierce to be thinking up this crazy dream. If my keeshkas weren't spilled out on the sidewalk, then surely my skull had been cracked like a great big eggy weg. Come to think of it, last thing I remember was Ludwig van's ninth causing a terrible sickness in my gut. Those nasty head doctors had tricked my mozg into thinking that Beethoven's glorious music was in the same sort of bad that was violence and the forcible in out in out with the ptistas. I jumped out of a tall tall window to escape from the pain of Ludwig van. I felt I had no choice but to snuff it.
And now I was here, that being in a place with this pink pony who fancied partying, if the three balloons on her bum signified anything. My little devotchka's mood and look on her face said otherwise, oh my brothers. Surely she had gone quite loony spouting all this chepooka from her litso. It was actually starting to annoy me something horrorshow. I couldn't stand to think of someone going all crazy in their mozg, but then like, that's what was going on with me, wasn't it?
"Well, miss?"
"Pinkie Pie. Pinkamena Diane Pie."
"Well, my dear Pinkamena, what say you and I go out and tolchock some of these "friends" of yours? Distribute a little bit of the old ultraviolence?"
"Ultraviolence? Oh, its like a word game! Horrorshow means good. Good is opposite of horror, isn't it? So Ultraviolence must mean...umm..." She didn't think long, my brothers. "Happiness! A party! Yeah, let's go show them a party they'll never forget! That'll show em!"
And oh, my brothers, I grinned the biggest grin I had in a very long while, what with my long horsey worsey of a face being as big as it was. I returned my bowler to me gulliver , wrapped my arm around Pinkaena and started to laugh.
"Absolutely! Ultrapartying! Let's get to it, love!"
