If some guy was with me, he could tell me I was asleep, an’ then it would be all right. But I jus’ don’t know.”
Crooks was looking across the room now, looking toward the window.
Lennie said miserably, “George won’t go away and leave me. I know George wun’t do that.”
The stable buck went on dreamily, “I remember when I was a little kid on my old man’s chicken ranch. Had two brothers.
They was always near me, always there. Used to sleep right in the same room, right in the same bed—all three.
Had a strawberry patch. Had an alfalfa patch. Used to turn the chickens out in the alfalfa on a sunny morning.
My brothers’d set on a fence rail an’ watch ’em—white chickens they was.”
Gradually Lennie’s interest came around to what was being said. “George says we’re gonna have alfalfa for the rabbits.”
“What rabbits?” “We’re gonna have rabbits an’ a berry patch.”
“You’re nuts.” “We are too. You ast George.” “You’re nuts.” Crooks was scornful.
“I seen hundreds of men come by on the road an’ on the ranches, with their bindles on their back an’ that same damn thing in their heads.
Hundreds of them. They come, an’ they quit an’ go on; an’ every damn one of ’em’s got a little piece of land in his head.
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