But with the opening of Clockwork Orange Julius, Boston’s first behavior-modifying fruit juice concession stand, all that is about to change. In an unassuming room in the Arsenal Mall in Watertown, a new day in the world of fresh-squeezed juice sales is dawning.

"This won’t hurt a bit," said Julius manager Robb as he strapped a customer into a padded chaise and clamped his eyes open.

"What we do," explained Robb, as he stepped to a console behind the chaise, "is first serve delicious, freshly-squeezed juices and second, engage in a few minutes of psychological trauma therapy." As he spoke, violent, disgusting images of dismemberment, child abuse and Revere Beach flashed across a screen in front of the customer. Every so often, the jarring onslaught was interrupted by an image of a tall, cool, frosty glass of fresh-squeezed juice.

Simon, after several rounds of fresh-squeezed juice followed by several rounds of treatment, was enthusiastic about the new juice bar. "Before old Julius went over the papasan, we had to engage in a bit of the old ultraviolence just to get a drop of tucker for my spielberg," Simon said. "Now every morning on my way to work, me and the old droogies stop off for a round or two of the romulan — I can’t resist the idea of a tall glass of fresh-squeezed juice!"

Woods was apparently trying to get Grant to pay for yet another fitting of her purple, double-flocked taffeta gown. Grant thought the dress fit fine and returned home after work instead of meeting Woods at the bridal shop for the fourth fitting. "I’m sooooo mad at her," shrieked Woods through her clenched, self-important teeth.

Other members of the Brown/Woods wedding party have also borne the brunt of her anger. Best man Tom Reggie was told to "shut up and sit down" at the home of David Brown last Wednesday. "She’s totally out of control on this whole wedding thing. It will be amazing if we live through it," stated Reggie.

Woods, a 22-year-old Marquette graduate, had developed a reputation as a levelheaded young lady with a bright future in human relations, most likely in the sales arena. But no one knows if she’ll pull through this. Wedding arrangements are almost complete at this point, but Woods feels that she must micromanage each little insignificant detail, right down to the flower girl’s perfume.

"Must I remind everyone?" Woods asks rhetorically. "It’s my day!"

The difference is Small’s method of spreading the word: an inexpensive garden tool from Sears.

He tried pamphlets, picketing and the Internet, but nothing spread hatred the way he felt it should be spread. So Small packed up his truck and made the two-day trip to Sears to see what they had.

Small was pleased by the selection of spreader tools, but they were all very expensive. So he purchased an inexpensive garden hoe and brought it home. "I’ve never been happier," Small said. "This is the best hate spreader I’ve ever tried."

It couldn’t be easier. Small first pours hatred out onto the ground. He then spreads it in a circular motion out towards the edges of the pile — "kinda like a big hate pizza," says Small. Once he’s done, he makes a new pile and repeats the process.

This method required a lot of hatred, but Small says he’ll never run out. "I got more hate then most of ‘em," he says.

Anyway, there was a problem because he … crap … he ... oh, that’s right! He trued to — trued? That’s not a word — I think I meant tried. Let me just type that one out. There we go. No, no more Sudafed, mommy. I can barely ... uhh, the thing where you don’t ... ah, stayawake. I can barely stay awake.

So, this guy, who if I remember, his name began with an "R" or maybe a "P." Those two letters, man, they get me every time. It’s like they try to confuse me by looking so much alike. When I was 7, I — oh, god, I am so old — what happened? How did I get so old? I used to sit on my mommy’s lap and watch cartoons.

Robert! That was it! Robert Lockheed, he’s some sort of banker in the area, over near ... you know, the one with the mall ... Framingham! He was in Framingham, and he tried to take money that was not his to have, if you know what I mean. I don’t. God, I NEED a tissue.

Where are my slippers? I think he was Robert from Framingham, or maybe he was Fobert from Rramingham. Hahaha. That’s a joke. I wrote that. Someday I want to be a rocket man with the glasses, you know ... uh ... a scientist!! A rocket scientist! I have 20/20 so I don’t see why they don’t take me. Take me. Take me away Calgon ...