A Clockwork Oz

There was me, that is Alex, and me three droogs, Strawdog, Leo and the Tin Chellovek. We fillied about down the yellow brick road playing a horrorshow game of Kick the Munchkin. But all play and no work leaves your pockets void of cutter. And there was work to be done, O My Brothers. A rabbit of fair proportion, and no lying. The bolshy govereeting gulliver at Oz Central had, like, sent us on a “hit,” as they say at the hound-and-horny cinny. Oobivat a certain Witch is what he, like, in his mind had. Pay for slay, kopat? And not at bargain rates. A right murderous baboochka, no fluttering ptitsa, she. Knife, claw, teeth, britva, swordcane, axe, we were well equipped for the task at hand. So follow the yellow brick road, as the malenky lewdies warbled. Follow it we did.