"A last wish, that's what we're askin."

George could vaguely recognize the voice as Slim's, but the whole word seemed to be turned on its head and soaked in whiskey. George didn't care to acknowledge his location; all he cared to acknowledge was whiskey and girls in a cat house.

"Las' wish," George slurred, "Whas it for?"

"We're jus askin," Slim replied. George saw Candy standing next to Slim, visibly nervous.

George rolled onto his side, unsure of how he got on the ground in the first place, "Las' wish…ya really wanna know?"

Slim nodded, "We do. That's why we asked."

George laughed drily, noticing the deep green river before him, "Mah las' wish…is ta see Lennie a'gin."

Slim and Candy looked at each other resolutely, a decision already made between them. Candy pulled Carlson's Luger from his pocket, snapping off the safety.

"That's all ya want?" Slim asked.

"Yeah," George hummed and sitting up, "That all I want…s'all I've wanted."

Candy raised the gun and aimed at George's head. When the shot rang out and George slumped forward, George had been thinking about the long dead dream of the ranch.


When George woke up, he noticed that the world wasn't tilted that he wasn't hung over. The world seemed to glow with a pale hue, and every sound was serenely soft. The chirping of songbirds was airy like a cloud. The usual clucking of chickens was a gentle chatter pleasant to the ear.

Slowly, George got to his feet and began to walk towards the ranch, closer to the chatter of chickens, and soon the quiet shuffling of a cow became prominent as well. The ranch drew him in with a sense of home, something that had eluded him for so long. George worked his way towards the back of the ranch, and his eyes settled on a patch of alfalfa. He stopped in front of it, reaching down and pressing the plant between his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, George saw a pure white rabbit hop towards the alfalfa. Its nose was twitching wildly, and George's eyes looked beyond the rabbit, resting on a broad shouldered man sitting on the ground in front of a row of rabbit hutches.

The man set down a speckled light brown rabbit and turned to look for another. The man's eyes brightened and he bolted to his feet, running to George and scooping him into a tight hug.

"George!" Lennie cried, "I thought you was gone forever!"

George rolled his eyes and attempted to push Lennie away, "A course I'm here. Where else would I be, ya crazy bastard?"

Lennie set George down and frowned, "I dunno, George. You was gone an' I thought maybe you didn't want to stay with me no more."

George frowned and shook his head, "Hey, I'm here now, right? I always been here. Even if ya don't see me."

Lennie nodded and looked down sadly, "George?"

"Yeah, Lennie?"

"You're not gonna leave again…are ya?"

George shook his head and rested his hand gently on Lennie's shoulder, "Nah, I'm stayin here, Lennie, wherever here is."

Lennie's face lit up and he pointed back to the rabbit hutch, "It's da place where you let me tend the rabbits, George! An' the cows, an the chickens, and the pigs, an-"

"Hold up, Lennie, what'ya mean?"

Lennie paused, his hands waving uselessly in the air for a moment before he spoke, "Like ya used to tell me, George, how we'd live off the fatta the lan'. That's where we is."

George looked at Lennie curiously before he took in the land around him. He spun around slowly, recognizing each part of the ranch: the little clapboard house, the green acres, a milk cow, a couple of pigs, a rooster and a handful of chickens, and those rabbits. George smiled and looked at Lennie, and deep in his gut was something George hadn't felt for months, and he couldn't quite place what it was.

Lennie looked down worriedly at George, "George? Don'tcha like it?"

George shook his head, "It's…it's what we always said we'd get, Lennie."

Lennie giggled and hugged George again, "It's jus like ya said. You're gonna stay this time, George?"

George thought for a moment, and George was finally able to put a name to the odd feeling in his gut: happiness. George didn't feel the need to drown a bottle of whiskey; he didn't need to feel the burn of liquor in his throat; he didn't need to float through life and not remember anything. George smiled and returned Lennie's hug, his voice soft, "Yeah, Lennie. I'm gonna stay."