Part VII

The day was warm and humid. The sun was shinning through an assembly of clouds while a cluster of birds swirled around the trees. All the people from the bunkhouse were there, all dressed in black and white, solemnly watching the dark, black box being lowered into the ground. A slight smile could be seen on Curley's face as the dirt was thrown over the box, covering it from top to bottom. Carlson gazed silently while Candy scratched the stump of his wrist. Crooks stood emotionless, but breaking up inside, thinking how he had just recently had a normal conversation with the big guy. Slim stood next to George, who had his head down and his eyes closed sadly. A tear slowly sprinkled down George's cheek, dropping to the ground.

When the sermon was over everyone walked away in order to talk with the other people. All of them, that is, except George. He just stood in front of the gravestone, thinking. Slim walked over to comfort him.

"You did what you had to do George," he said, "There was nothing else you could have done."

"I know," said George, "But couldn't there have been some better way than this?"

He waved his arm to the marked gravestone. "HERE LIES LENNIE SMALL. MAY THE RABBITS IN HEAVEN BE YOUR FAVORITE."

"A very good quote you requested for the gravestone," Slim stated as he stared down at the ground where their friend was. "Lennie loved those rabbits."

"That's all he ever talked about," remarked George with a little sarcasm.

Curley noticed Slim and George talking together and strolled into the discussion. His arm was in a cast due to his broken hand. "It's about time that big ox got what was coming to him!" he snarled, "It was his fault my wife is now sleeping with the worms! I hope he rots in hell for his crimes!"

"It wasn't his fault. He just got scared. It wasn't his fault," George said.

"It was his fault. He did it all on purpose. He wanted to kill her. He just couldn't stand the idea that she loved me instead of him."

George walked closer to him. "It wasn't his fault! It was that dirty tramp you call a wife's fault! Coming in trying to seduce the poor big lug when all he wanted was to pet rabbits!"

Curley's eyes flamed at these words. "Now you listen here! That big idiot friend of yours got what he deserved! DEATH! And I think you deserve the same. You both wanted my wife for yourselves." He put his hands, or what was left of them, up to fight.

"I'm not going to fight you Curley. It'd be a waist of my time and a waist of your life."

Curley, enraged, threw a punch into George's face. His nose started bleeding from the blow. Slim quickly ran over to George. "Curley, you selfish bastard! Why do you always have to pick a fight with everyone?"

Curley glared at Slim. He was about to say something, but he knew Slim could take him down with ease. He looked back to George's bloody nose and stared into his face. He did not know how strong George was, but it looked like he had the advantage. "Now don't you say anything more about my wife or you dunderheaded friend," he said.

"Your wife was a tramp! Don't you get it? Why do you think she always came into the bunkhouse?" George commented.

"I'll kill you for saying that!" screamed Curley. He jumped on top of George and started pummeling him with his good hand.

Slim grabbed Curley's shirt and threw him off of George. Now it was George's turn to fight. He punched Curley multiple times in the face. George was stronger than Curley. Curley's face started to bleed all over. His face was swollen and he could hardly breathe. Slim tried to stop him, but it was too late. Curley fell limp onto the ground. Slim checked on him.

"He's dead George!" Slim said.

George stared down at the lifeless body. "It wasn't Lennie's fault..." he sighed.

"Aww… George," Slim moaned, "Did ya have to kill 'em?"

George was silent. He took something out of his pocket and looked at it.

"What's that George?" asked Slim, still kneeling next to Curley's corpse.

"It's a mouse. I found it by the river. It was Lennie's, I can tell. It is dead now, but he still carried it around with him. He loved petting that mouse."

"What are we going to do about Curley?" asked Slim.

He looked down and a bulge under the back of his shirt. He lifted the shirt and found a small pistol, loaded with shells. He handed the pistol to George.

"If I didn't kill him first," said George, "he would have shot me with his pistol."

"If they find out you did this, they're going to put you in jail, George," stated Slim, "We may be able to get you on self defense though."

"We're going to have to tell the truth. I killed Curley," cried George. "Slim. You know the area better than me. Go to the police and tell them what's happened here. I'll stay and make sure nothing else happens."

"OK George. See what you can do with the body while I'm gone."

Slim ran off while George stood over Curley's mangled body. He looked down at the dead mouse, unaware that he'd been petting it for a while.

"There's nothing left for me," he said to himself, "No job. No friends. No Lennie."

Although he didn't want to admit it before, Lennie was his true friend. He was his best friend. He didn't think of life without him.

George started to tear and soon began to talk to himself.

"Guys like us got no family. They make a little stake an' then they blow it in. They ain't got nobody in the world that gives a hoot in hell about 'em…" Tears began to roll down his cheeks. "But not us, because I got you and you got me. We got each other that gives a hoot in hell about us." He could almost see Lennie, asking how it's going to be. "We gonna get a little place. We'll have a cow, and we'll have some pigs and chickens. We'll have some alfalfa to feed the animals, and… and…" He took the gun in his hand. "And the rabbits!" He placed the gun to his head. "Maybe in heaven we'll have that little place." With those last words, he pulled the trigger. He fell to the ground and said no more.