John Steinbeck Fullscreen Grapes of Wrath (1939)

Pause

We’ll take your mules for twenty.

Wagon goes with ’em, don’t it?

An’ you put up fifty, an’ you can sign a contract to send the rest at ten dollars a month.

But you said eighty.

Didn’t you never hear about carrying charges and insurance?

That just boosts her a little.

You’ll get her all paid up in four-five months.

Sign your name right here.

We’ll take care of ever’thing.

Well, I don’t know——

Now, look here.

I’m givin’ you my shirt, an’ you took all this time.

I might a made three sales while I been talkin’ to you.

I’m disgusted.

Yeah, sign right there.

All right, sir.

Joe, fill up the tank for this gentleman.

We’ll give him gas.

Jesus, Joe, that was a hot one!

What’d we give for that jalopy?

Thirty bucks—thirty-five wasn’t it?

I got that team, an’ if I can’t get seventy-five for that team, I ain’t a business man.

An’ I got fifty cash an’ a contract for forty more.

Oh, I know they’re not all honest, but it’ll surprise you how many kick through with the rest.

One guy come through with a hundred two years after I wrote him off.

I bet you this guy sends the money.

Christ, if I could only get five hundred jalopies!

Roll up your sleeves, Joe.

Go out an’ soften ’em, an’ send ’em in to me.

You get twenty on that last deal.

You ain’t doing bad.

Limp flags in the afternoon sun.

Today’s Bargain. ’29 Ford pickup, runs good.

What do you want for fifty bucks—a Zephyr?

Horsehair curling out of seat cushions, fenders battered and hammered back.

Bumpers torn loose and hanging.

Fancy Ford roadster with little colored lights at fender guide, at radiator cap, and three behind.

Mud aprons, and a big die on the gear-shift lever.

Pretty girl on tire cover, painted in color and named Cora.

Afternoon sun on the dusty windshields.

Christ, I ain’t had time to go out an’ eat!

Joe, send a kid for a hamburger.

Spattering roar of ancient engines.

There’s a dumb-bunny lookin’ at that Chrysler.

Find out if he got any jack in his jeans.

Some a these farm boys is sneaky.

Soften ’em up an’ roll ’em in to me, Joe.

You’re doin’ good.

Sure, we sold it.

Guarantee?