A short but sweet fiction on John Steinbeck's 'Of Mice and Men'.
Disclaimer: I do not own characters.
It was just like they always imagined.
Ten acres of land and a windmill. They got a little shack on it an' a chicken run. There's a place for the alfalfa and plenty of water to flood it. And a few hutches for the rabbits, an' a place for the pigs...There's a smoke house too.
The fruits were coming in this time of year.
An' Lennie was tending the rabbits, just like George said he would. He was getting better it seemed, the lack of focus slowly faded and Lennie would remember a lot more. He'd tend the rabbits.
Sometimes, it was to be expected, he'd tend to the rabbits too roughly. George would get man; Lennie didn't like that.
"How many times I gotta tell ya?"
"You tell me all the time, George! You tell me!"
"An' you don't listen!" George threw his hat violently to the ground. "You don't tend to 'em so hard, Lennie, that's how you kill 'em, damn it!"
Lennie shrugged sheepishly.
"I didn't mean 'em no harm, George. I promise..." George sighed and patted Lennie lightly. "I've been mean, ain't I? I'm sorry but you gotta remember what I tell ya."
"I'll remember!" Lennie nodded and leaned down to retrieve George's hat. George took it and swiftly snatched the other man's hand.
"You wouldn't hurt me, would ya." It wasn't a question; George knew Lennie wouldn't hurt him.
Lennie shook his head frantically. "I wouldn't hurt ya, George! Honest I wouldn't!"
"Right." The smaller man's hand ran over Lennie's. "You wouldn't hurt me none." Lennie was too distracted by the action to respond.
He mimicked it.
"Just like this. Tend to the rabbits just like this, like you do my hand."
"Just like this." Repeated Lennie. George smiled and lightly squeezed the other man's palm before letting go and continuing on his way, leaving Lennie to tend the rabbits, just like he wanted.