Slim throwed a scare inta you. You’re yella as a frog belly.
I don’t care if you’re the best welter in the country. You come for me, an’ I’ll kick your God damn head off.”
Candy joined the attack with joy. “Glove fulla vaseline,” he said disgustedly.
Curley glared at him. His eyes slipped on past and lighted on Lennie; and Lennie was still smiling with delight at the memory of the ranch.
Curley stepped over to Lennie like a terrier. “What the hell you laughin’ at?”
Lennie looked blankly at him. “Huh?” Then Curley’s rage exploded.
“Come on, ya big bastard. Get up on your feet. No big son-of-a-bitch is gonna laugh at me. I’ll show ya who’s yella.”
Lennie looked helplessly at George, and then he got up and tried to retreat.
Curley was balanced and poised. He slashed at Lennie with his left, and then smashed down his nose with a right.
Lennie gave a cry of terror. Blood welled from his nose. “George,” he cried.
“Make ’um let me alone, George.” He backed until he was against the wall, and Curley followed, slugging him in the face.
Lennie’s hands remained at his sides; he was too frightened to defend himself.
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