“A mouse?
A live mouse?”
“Uh-uh.
Jus’ a dead mouse, George.
I didn’t kill it.
Honest!
I found it.
I found it dead.”
“Give it here!” said George.
“Aw, leave me have it, George.”
“Give it here!”
Lennie’s closed hand slowly obeyed.
George took the mouse and threw it across the pool to the other side, among the brush.
“What you want of a dead mouse, anyways?”
“I could pet it with my thumb while we walked along,” said Lennie.
“Well, you ain’t petting no mice while you walk with me.
You remember where we’re goin’ now?”
Lennie looked startled and then in embarrassment hid his face against his knees.
“I forgot again.”
“Jesus Christ,” George said resignedly. “Well — look, we’re gonna work on a ranch like the one we come from up north.”
“Up north?”
“In Weed.”
“Oh, sure.
I remember.
In Weed.”
“That ranch we’re goin’ to is right down there about a quarter mile.
We’re gonna go in an’ see the boss.
Now, look — I’ll give him the work tickets, but you ain’t gonna say a word.
You jus’ stand there and don’t say nothing.
If he finds out what a crazy bastard you are, we won’t get no job, but if he sees ya work before he hears ya talk, we’re set.
Ya got that?”
“Sure, George.
Sure I got it.”
“O.K.
Now when we go in to see the boss, what you gonna do?”
“I.... I....” Lennie thought.
His face grew tight with thought. “I.... ain’t gonna say nothin’.
Jus’ gonna stan’ there.”
“Good boy.
That’s swell.
You say that over two, three times so you sure won’t forget it.”
Lennie droned to himself softly, “I ain’t gonna say nothin’.... I ain’t gonna say nothin’.... I ain’t gonna say nothin’.”
“O.K.,” said George. “An’ you ain’t gonna do no bad things like you done in Weed, neither.”
Lennie looked puzzled.
“Like I done in Weed?”
“Oh, so ya forgot that too, did ya?
Well, I ain’t gonna remind ya, fear ya do it again.”
A light of understanding broke on Lennie’s face.
“They run us outa Weed,” he exploded triumphantly.
“Run us out, hell,” said George disgustedly. “We run.