Monday, September 27, 2004
While searching through my many unlabeled disks for my most current resume, I stumbled across some old college papers. I think I'm going to share one with you. It may shock you. Mom, you may want to stop reading. It is quite violent. I got an A++ and the instructor printed off copies for the entire class. I was very proud. And now, without further ado, may I present to you my creative interpretation of Clockwork Orange:
Sara Schott
English 4700
Susan Steinberg
29 October 2001
The next morning I woke up at oh eight oh oh hours, oh my brothers, and as it was Thursday morning, and I had had a real bitchin-oh evening the previous, and my suit was all covered and sticky with reminders of my accomplishments, I thought I would not go to the Institution today. Perhaps after a smitel longer in the sheets I will join you, oh my brothers, in our learning experience that our poopskas are so unsuspicious in paying their hard-earned, hard-worked for chinka, thinking their little babooshkas are going to oh Reading, Writing, ‘Rithmatic to make the fortunes, meet the respectable girl, and carry on the family name, brothers oh brothers, if only the poopskas knew.
Rolling over with a real bitchin-oh stretch, the kind you have first thing on waking, when it feels as if two forces of Mal are pulling your muscles, bones and thoughts in opposite directions, oh my brothers, this is the sort of stretch I had, and rolling over I saw her. So the little jeanie had the nerve to down in my sheets all night. Upon second look, she wasn’t such a kinky-like little jeanie as she had seemed the previous, in my altered state, due to the amount of jonka I had consumed. She was down with her stinking hatch open, and her large rather odd-shaped zingers falling out of the blankie. The stink coming out of her was something, oh my brothers, awful, something of her sick from the previous mixed with the stink of the jonkas I had bought for her (not the mention the ones she already had down her hatch) and the offensive stink of all hatches in the morn. The black glook she had caked on her hoppers was smeared on her mask and it was still crusted in white where I had marked her with my juice, the screaming little jeanie, when she had done it for me the previous, oh she was a fright on this morn.
The little bitch had some nerve in her, staying after your humble narrator told her to leave. Just then she woke and schlepped up at me, the corners of her hatch turning up, her schlep was yellow from the smoke. I was infuriated by her happy schlep, I had told her to leave, she was supposed to be gone, I gave her a bitchin-oh shot to the hatch that cured her yellowed schlep and quieted my rage. “Bitch, I told you to leave,” I grumbled as I threw her over my shoulder to dispose of her out the door. Then I was struck with a thought, and it seemed silly to waste of a perfectly good jeanie on this sunny morn. Seeing as I had just woke up, I was as ready as could be, as are most pledges of my age first thing in the morn, oh my brothers. So this pledge had that jeanie, and you know how the act goes, my brothers, I will spare you the pain I inflicted and the joy I discovered at her raspy cries, and I let my glory go inside her this time to give her something to remember me by, and after sharing this not so willing jeanie with my brothers next door, we heaved her down the stairs, with her under-skevvs soiled and her huge bare zingers flopping. I looked at my schlepping brother, Rog, he was called, short for Roger, and I schlepped back as I said, “I told the bitch to leave.”
So Yours Truly, feeling relieved of himself and ready to drag it to the Institution but feeling sticky yet, decided to, already having missed the first of Biologiaology, go ahead and miss it altogether in order to clean it up. And after basking in the steaming rush for oh ten minutes, having soaped my suit and scrubbed my mask, I stood in front of the looker examining my mask. Hoppers not as puffy as they could have been after an evening such as the previous, scrub razored off, bitchin-oh respectable looking with the proper schlep on my hatch. Feeling rather stylo in my new skevvs from the-over-priced-and-ever-so-ordinary-but-I-have-to-shop-there-to-be-“in”-(fill in the blank)-store-of-your-choice, oh my brothers, I was ready to play the eager student until such time when the sun went down, and the pretty and good little jeanies and pledges stayed inside preparing for law and medics and what-not, knowing full well that my brothers and I would be congregating in the quadrangle of the Institution, books in hand (to show the pigs out on night patrol), from where we walk the streets to the bars.
Sometimes there is a jeanie too thick to ask some of her strong pledges to walk her home from the library, some little jeanie with white cotton under-skevvs, and oh my brothers, if we happen upon such a treat we skip the bars and the jonko altogether, making an entire night of our find…
Sara Schott
English 4700
Susan Steinberg
29 October 2001
The next morning I woke up at oh eight oh oh hours, oh my brothers, and as it was Thursday morning, and I had had a real bitchin-oh evening the previous, and my suit was all covered and sticky with reminders of my accomplishments, I thought I would not go to the Institution today. Perhaps after a smitel longer in the sheets I will join you, oh my brothers, in our learning experience that our poopskas are so unsuspicious in paying their hard-earned, hard-worked for chinka, thinking their little babooshkas are going to oh Reading, Writing, ‘Rithmatic to make the fortunes, meet the respectable girl, and carry on the family name, brothers oh brothers, if only the poopskas knew.
Rolling over with a real bitchin-oh stretch, the kind you have first thing on waking, when it feels as if two forces of Mal are pulling your muscles, bones and thoughts in opposite directions, oh my brothers, this is the sort of stretch I had, and rolling over I saw her. So the little jeanie had the nerve to down in my sheets all night. Upon second look, she wasn’t such a kinky-like little jeanie as she had seemed the previous, in my altered state, due to the amount of jonka I had consumed. She was down with her stinking hatch open, and her large rather odd-shaped zingers falling out of the blankie. The stink coming out of her was something, oh my brothers, awful, something of her sick from the previous mixed with the stink of the jonkas I had bought for her (not the mention the ones she already had down her hatch) and the offensive stink of all hatches in the morn. The black glook she had caked on her hoppers was smeared on her mask and it was still crusted in white where I had marked her with my juice, the screaming little jeanie, when she had done it for me the previous, oh she was a fright on this morn.
The little bitch had some nerve in her, staying after your humble narrator told her to leave. Just then she woke and schlepped up at me, the corners of her hatch turning up, her schlep was yellow from the smoke. I was infuriated by her happy schlep, I had told her to leave, she was supposed to be gone, I gave her a bitchin-oh shot to the hatch that cured her yellowed schlep and quieted my rage. “Bitch, I told you to leave,” I grumbled as I threw her over my shoulder to dispose of her out the door. Then I was struck with a thought, and it seemed silly to waste of a perfectly good jeanie on this sunny morn. Seeing as I had just woke up, I was as ready as could be, as are most pledges of my age first thing in the morn, oh my brothers. So this pledge had that jeanie, and you know how the act goes, my brothers, I will spare you the pain I inflicted and the joy I discovered at her raspy cries, and I let my glory go inside her this time to give her something to remember me by, and after sharing this not so willing jeanie with my brothers next door, we heaved her down the stairs, with her under-skevvs soiled and her huge bare zingers flopping. I looked at my schlepping brother, Rog, he was called, short for Roger, and I schlepped back as I said, “I told the bitch to leave.”
So Yours Truly, feeling relieved of himself and ready to drag it to the Institution but feeling sticky yet, decided to, already having missed the first of Biologiaology, go ahead and miss it altogether in order to clean it up. And after basking in the steaming rush for oh ten minutes, having soaped my suit and scrubbed my mask, I stood in front of the looker examining my mask. Hoppers not as puffy as they could have been after an evening such as the previous, scrub razored off, bitchin-oh respectable looking with the proper schlep on my hatch. Feeling rather stylo in my new skevvs from the-over-priced-and-ever-so-ordinary-but-I-have-to-shop-there-to-be-“in”-(fill in the blank)-store-of-your-choice, oh my brothers, I was ready to play the eager student until such time when the sun went down, and the pretty and good little jeanies and pledges stayed inside preparing for law and medics and what-not, knowing full well that my brothers and I would be congregating in the quadrangle of the Institution, books in hand (to show the pigs out on night patrol), from where we walk the streets to the bars.
Sometimes there is a jeanie too thick to ask some of her strong pledges to walk her home from the library, some little jeanie with white cotton under-skevvs, and oh my brothers, if we happen upon such a treat we skip the bars and the jonko altogether, making an entire night of our find…
