Longest Thread on MC-Market
- Thread starter Landon
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i come to study Mechanical Engineering at American university. i am here little time and i am very hard stress. i am gay also and this very difficult for me, i am very religion person. i never act to be gay with other men before. but after i am in america 6 weeks i am my friend together he is gay also. He was show me American video game and then we are kiss.
We sex together. I never before now am tell my mother about gay because i am very shame. As i **** this American boy it is very good to me but also i am feel so guilty. I feel extreme guilty as I begin orgasm. I feel so guilty that I pick up my telephone and call Mother in Russia. I awaken her. It too late for stopping so I am cumming sex. I am very upset and guilty and crying, so I yell her, "I AM CUM FROM SEX" (in Russia). She say what? I say "I AM CUM FROM SEX" and she say you boy, do not marry American girl, and I say "NO I AM CUM FROM SEX WITH MAN, I AM IN ASS, I CUM IN ASS" and my mother very angry me. She not get scared though.
I hang up phone and am very embarrass. My friend also he is very embarrass. I am guilt and feel very stupid. I wonder, why do I gay with man? But I continue because when it spurt it feel very good in American ass.
We sex together. I never before now am tell my mother about gay because i am very shame. As i **** this American boy it is very good to me but also i am feel so guilty. I feel extreme guilty as I begin orgasm. I feel so guilty that I pick up my telephone and call Mother in Russia. I awaken her. It too late for stopping so I am cumming sex. I am very upset and guilty and crying, so I yell her, "I AM CUM FROM SEX" (in Russia). She say what? I say "I AM CUM FROM SEX" and she say you boy, do not marry American girl, and I say "NO I AM CUM FROM SEX WITH MAN, I AM IN ASS, I CUM IN ASS" and my mother very angry me. She not get scared though.
I hang up phone and am very embarrass. My friend also he is very embarrass. I am guilt and feel very stupid. I wonder, why do I gay with man? But I continue because when it spurt it feel very good in American ass.
Why not.
Donald John Trump (born June 14, 1946) is the 45th and current President of the United States, in office since January 20, 2017. Before entering politics, he was a businessman and television personality.
Trump was born in the New York City borough of Queens. He earned an economics degree from the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. A third-generation businessman, Trump followed in the footsteps of his grandmother Elizabeth and father Fred in running the family real estate company (now The Trump Organization). He controlled it from 1971 until his inauguration as president in January 2017, when he delegated company management to his sons Donald Jr. and Eric. Trump's business career primarily focused on building or renovating office towers, hotels, casinos, and golf courses. Trump has also started multiple side ventures and branded various products with his name. He has written or co-authored several books, including The Art of the Deal, and he produced and hosted the television show The Apprentice for 12 years. As of 2017, he was the 544th richest person in the world, with an estimated net worth of $3.5 billion.
Trump had expressed interest in politics as early as 1987. He entered the 2016 presidential race as a Republican, and defeated sixteen opponents in the primaries. Commentators described his political positions as populist, protectionist, and nationalist. His campaign received extensive free media coverage; many of his public statements were controversial or false. Trump won the general election on November 8, 2016 against Democratic opponent Hillary Clinton. He became the oldest and wealthiest person ever to assume the presidency, the first without prior military or government service, and the fifth to have won the election despite losing the popular vote. His election and policies have sparked numerous protests.
In domestic policy, Trump has sought, so far without success, to repeal and replace the Affordable Care Act. He appointed Neil Gorsuch to the Supreme Court. He ordered a travel ban on citizens from several Muslim-majority countries, citing security concerns; the ban was partially implemented after legal challenges. In foreign policy, he withdrew the United States from the Trans-Pacific Partnership and from the Paris Climate Agreement, and undid parts of the Cuban Thaw. After Trump dismissed FBI Director James Comey, the Justice Department appointed a special counsel to continue the investigation into potential links between Russia and Trump campaign associates, and any related matters.
Ancestry
Further information: Trump family
Trump's ancestors originated from the German village of Kallstadt, Palatinate, on his father's side, and from the Outer Hebrides in Scotland on his mother's side. All his grandparents, and his mother, were born in Europe. His mother's grandfather was also christened "Donald".[2]
Trump's paternal grandfather, Friedrich Trump, first emigrated to the United States in 1885 at the age of 16, and became a citizen in 1892. He amassed a fortune operating boom-town restaurants and boarding houses in the Seattle area and the Klondike region of Canada during its gold rush.[3] On a visit to Kallstadt, he met Elisabeth Christ and married her in 1902. The couple settled in New York permanently in 1905.[4] Frederick died from influenza during the 1918 pandemic.[5]
Donald's father, Fred Trump, was born in 1905 in the Bronx. Fred started working with his mother in real estate when he was 15, shortly after his father's death. Their company, Elizabeth Trump and Son, was primarily active in the New York boroughs of Queens and Brooklyn. Fred eventually built and sold thousands of houses, barracks and apartments.[5][6] The company later became The Trump Organization after Donald Trump took over in 1971.[7]
Donald's mother, Mary Anne, was born in Tong, Lewis, Scotland. At age 18 in 1930, she emigrated to New York, where she worked as a maid.[8] Fred and Mary were married in 1936 and raised their family in Queens.[8][9]
Donald's uncle John Trump was an electrical engineer, physicist, and inventor. He was also a professor at MIT from 1936 to 1973. During World War II, he was involved in radar research for the Allies and helped design X-ray machines that were used to treat cancer.[10]
Early life and education
Senior yearbook photo of Trump in 1964 wearing the uniform of his private boarding school, New York Military Academy[11][12]
Donald Trump was born on June 14, 1946, at the Jamaica Hospital Medical Center, Queens, New York City. He was the fourth of five children born to Frederick Trump (1905–1999) and Mary Anne Trump (née MacLeod, 1912–2000).[13] His siblings are Maryanne (b. 1937), Fred Jr. (1938–1981), Elizabeth (b. 1942), and Robert (b. 1948).
Trump grew up in the Jamaica Estates neighborhood of Queens. He attended the Kew-Forest School from kindergarten through seventh grade. At age 13, he enrolled in the New York Military Academy, a private boarding school, after his parents discovered that he had made frequent trips into Manhattan without their permission.[14][15]
In August 1964, Trump began his higher education at Fordham University.[11][16] After two years, he transferred to the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, because it offered one of the few real-estate studies departments in United States academia at the time.[16][17]
In addition to his father, Trump was inspired by Manhattan developer William Zeckendorf, vowing to be "even bigger and better".[18] While at Wharton, he worked at the family business, Elizabeth Trump and Son,[19] graduating in May 1968 with a Bachelor of Science degree in economics.[16][20][21]
Trump did not enlist or get drafted during the Vietnam War.[22] While in college from 1964 to 1968, he obtained four student deferments.[23] In 1966, he was deemed fit for service based upon a military medical examination, and in 1968 was briefly classified as fit by a local draft board. In September of that year, he was given a medical deferment, which he later attributed to heel spurs.[24] In 1969, he received a high number in the draft lottery, which gave him a low probability to be called to military service.[24][25][26]
Family
Main article: Family of Donald Trump
Donald Trump is sworn in as president on January 20, 2017: Trump, wife Melania, son Donald Jr., son Barron, daughter Ivanka, son Eric, and daughter Tiffany
Trump has five children by three marriages, as well as nine grandchildren.[27][28] His first two marriages ended in widely publicized divorces.[29]
Trump was 30 years old when he married his first wife, Czech model Ivana Zelníčková in 1977 at the Marble Collegiate Church in Manhattan in a ceremony performed by the Reverend Norman Vincent Peale.[30][31] They had three children: Donald Jr. (b. 1977), Ivanka (b. 1981), and Eric (b. 1984). Ivana became a naturalized United States citizen in 1988.[32] The couple divorced in 1992, following Trump's affair with actress Marla Maples.[33]
In October 1993, Maples gave birth to Trump's daughter, who was named Tiffany after high-end retailer Tiffany & Company.[34] Maples and Trump were married two months later on December 20, 1993.[35] They divorced in 1999,[36] and Tiffany was raised by Marla in California.[37]
The President and First Lady at the Liberty Ball on Inauguration Day
On January 22, 2005, Trump married his third wife, Slovenian model Melania Knauss, at Bethesda-by-the-Sea Episcopal Church in Palm Beach, Florida. The ceremony was followed by a reception at Trump's Mar-a-Lago estate.[38] In 2006, Melania became a United States citizen[39] and on March 20 of that year gave birth to a son, Barron.[40][41] Melania became First Lady of the United States upon Trump's inauguration as the nation's 45th president in January 2017.[42]
Upon his inauguration as president, Trump delegated the management of his real estate business to his two adult sons, Eric and Don Jr.[43] His daughter Ivanka resigned from The Trump Organization and moved to Washington with her husband Jared Kushner. She serves as an assistant to the president,[44] and he is a Senior Advisor in the White House.[45]
Trump's elder sister, Maryanne Barry, is an inactive Federal Appeals Court judge on the Third Circuit.[46]
Religion
Trump's ancestors were Lutheran on his father's side in Germany[47] and Presbyterian on his mother's side in Scotland.[48] His parents married in a Manhattan Presbyterian church in 1936.[49] As a child, he attended the First Presbyterian Church in Jamaica, Queens, and had his Confirmation there.[31] In the 1970s, his family joined the Marble Collegiate Church (an affiliate of the Reformed Church in America) in Manhattan.[50] The pastor at that church, Norman Vincent Peale, author of The Power of Positive Thinking and The Art of Living, ministered to Trump's family and mentored him until Peale's death in 1993.[51][50] Trump, who is Presbyterian,[52][53] has cited Peale and his works during interviews when asked about the role of religion in his personal life.[50]
Trump receives Holy Communion, but he has said that he does not ask God for forgiveness. He stated: "I think if I do something wrong, I just try and make it right. I don't bring God into that picture....I guess that [Communion] is a form of asking for forgiveness”.[54] On the campaign trail, Trump has referred to The Art of the Deal as his second favorite book after the Bible, saying, "Nothing beats the Bible."[55] In a 2016 speech to Liberty University, he referred to "2 Corinthians" (pronounced "Second Corinthians") as "Two Corinthians", eliciting chuckles from the audience.[56][57] The New York Times reported that Evangelical Christians nationwide thought "that his heart was in the right place, that his intentions for the country were pure".[58]
Trump has had associations with a number of Christian spiritual leaders, including Florida pastor Paula White, who has been called his "closest spiritual confidant."[59] In 2015, he received a blessing from Greek Orthodox priest Emmanuel Lemelson[60] and in 2016, he released a list of his religious advisers, including James Dobson, Jerry Falwell Jr., Ralph Reed and others.[61] Referring to his daughter Ivanka's conversion to Judaism before her marriage to Jared Kushner, Trump said: "I have a Jewish daughter; and I am very honored by that."[62]
Health
Trump's physician, Harold Bornstein, issued a 2016 medical report that showed Trump's blood pressure and liver and thyroid function to be in normal ranges.[63][64] It also showed that he is overweight and takes statins to lower his cholesterol.[64] Trump has said that he has never smoked cigarettes or consumed drugs, including marijuana.[65] He also drinks no alcohol; this decision arose in part from watching his older brother Fred Jr. suffer from alcoholism that contributed to his early death in 1981.[66][67]
Wealth
Trump said that he began his career with "a small loan of one million dollars" from his father.[68] He appeared on the initial Forbes 400 list of wealthy individuals in 1982 with an estimated $200 million fortune, including an "undefined" share of his parents' estate.[69] During the late 1980s he became a billionaire,[70] and made the Forbes World's Billionaires list for the first time in 1989,[71] but he was absent from the Forbes 400 list following business losses from 1990 to 1995; he reportedly borrowed from his siblings' trusts in 1993.[69] His father's estate, valued at more than $20 million, was divided in 1999 among Trump, his three surviving siblings and their children.[72][73]
Trump International Hotel Las Vegas, with gold infused glass[74]
When Trump announced his candidacy for the presidency on June 16, 2015, he released a one-page financial summary that stated a net worth of $8,737,540,000.[75] The following month, he filed a 92-page Federal Election Commission (FEC) financial disclosure form[76] and declared his net worth was "in excess of ten billion dollars".[77] In his presidential announcement speech, he said "I'm really rich", and said this would make him less indebted to large campaign donors.[78][79] Forbes called his net worth estimate "a whopper", setting their own estimate at $4.1 billion in 2015. Trump valued his "properties under development" at $293 million; Forbes said they could not evaluate those deals, and booked them for $0.[80][81] Trump's 2015 FEC disclosure reported $362 million in total income for the year 2014.[77]
After Trump made controversial remarks about illegal immigrants in 2015, he lost business contracts with several companies; this reduced his Forbes estimate by $125 million.[82]Consumer boycotts and reduced bookings may have further affected his brand value during the presidential campaign.[83][84][85] Trump's 104-page FEC disclosure in May 2016[86] still claimed a total wealth over $10 billion, unchanged from 2015.[76] The release of the Access Hollywood tapes in October 2016 put further pressure on his brand,[87] but real estate experts predicted a positive rebound after he was elected.[88]
In its 2017 billionaires' ranking, Forbes estimated Trump's net worth at $3.5 billion (544th in the world, 201st in the U.S.)[1] making him one of the richest politicians in American history. These estimates fluctuate from year to year, and among various analysts. In July 2016 Bloomberg News had pegged his wealth at $3 billion, calling it an increase thanks to his presidential nomination,[89] whereas Forbes had ranked him 324th in the world (113th in the U.S.) with $4.5 billion just a few months earlier.[90] The discrepancies among these estimates and with Trump's own figures stem mainly from the uncertain values of appraised property and of his personal brand.[89][91]
In November 2017 the Trump Organization's revenue was suggested, by federal filings, to be $600m-$700m rather than the $9.5b previously claimed by the organization.[92]
Business career
Main article: Business career of Donald Trump
Real estate
The distinctive façade of Trump Tower in Midtown Manhattan
Trump started his career at his father's real estate development company, Elizabeth Trump and Son, which owned middle-class rental housing in New York City's outer boroughs, but also had business elsewhere.[93] For example, during his undergraduate study, Trump joined his father Fred in successfully revitalizing the foreclosed Swifton Village apartment complex in Cincinnati, Ohio, boosting the occupancy rate from 66% to 100%.[94][95]
When his father became chairman of the board in 1971, Trump was promoted to president of the company and renamed it The Trump Organization.[7][96] In 1973, he and his father drew wider attention when the Justice Department contended that the organization systematically discriminated against African Americans wishing to rent apartments rather than merely screening out people based on low income as the Trumps stated. Under an agreement reached in 1975, the Trumps made no admission of wrongdoing, and made the Urban League an intermediary for qualified minority applicants.[97][98] His adviser and attorney during (and after) that period was Roy Cohn, who responded to attacks by counterattacking with maximum force, and who valued both positive and negative publicity, which were attitudes that Trump appreciated.[99]
Manhattan developments
In 1978, Trump consummated his first major real estate deal in Manhattan when he purchased a half-share in the decrepit Commodore Hotel. The purchase was largely funded by a $70 million construction loan that was jointly guaranteed by Fred Trump and the Hyatt hotel chain. Designed by architect Der Scutt, the project leveraged competing interests and by taking advantage of tax breaks.[100] After remodeling, the hotel reopened as the Grand Hyatt Hotel, located next to Grand Central Terminal.[101][102]
Also in 1978, Trump finished negotiations to develop Trump Tower, a 58-story, 202-meter (663-foot) skyscraper in Midtown Manhattan, which The New York Times attributed to his "persistence" and "skills as a negotiator".[103] To make way for the new building, a crew of undocumented Polish workers demolished an old Bonwit Teller store, including art decofeatures that had initially been marked for preservation.[104] The building was completed in 1983 and houses both the primary penthouse condominium residence of Trump and the headquarters of The Trump Organization.[105][106] Architectural critic Paul Goldberger said in 1983 that he was surprised to find the tower's atrium was "the most pleasant interior public space to be completed in New York in some years".[107][108] Trump Tower was the setting of the NBC television show The Apprentice and includes a fully functional television studio set.[109]
Central Park's Wollman Rink after the Trump renovation
Repairs on Central Park's Wollman Rink begun in 1980 by a general contractor who was unconnected to Trump. Despite an anticipated two and a half year construction timeframe, the repairs remained incomplete in 1986. Trump took over the project, completed it in three months for $1.95 million, $775,000 less than the initial budget. He operated the rink for a year with most profits going to charity and public work projects,[110] in exchange for the rink's concession rights.[111]
In 1988 Trump acquired the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan for a record-setting $407 million and asked his wife Ivana to manage its operation.[112] Trump invested $50 million to restore the building, which he called "the Mona Lisa".[113] According to hotel expert Thomas McConnell, the Trumps boosted it from a three-star to a four-star ranking and sold it in 1995, by which time Ivana was no longer involved.[114]
In 1994, Trump became involved with a building on Columbus Circle that was swaying in the wind. He began a reconstruction project that stopped the swaying and gave the building a full makeover.[115][116] Trump thereafter owned commercial space in that 44-story mixed-use tower (hotel and condominium), which he named Trump International Hotel and Tower.[117]
In 1996, Trump acquired the Bank of Manhattan Trust Building, which was a vacant seventy-one story skyscraper on Wall Street that had briefly been the tallest building in the world when it was completed in 1930. After an extensive renovation, the high-rise was renamed the Trump Building at 40 Wall Street.[118]
In 1997, he began construction on Riverside South, which he dubbed Trump Place, a multi-building development along the Hudson River. The project encountered delays the following year because a subcontracter had to replace defective concrete.[119][120] He and the other investors in the project ultimately sold their interest for $1.8 billion in 2005 in what was then the biggest residential sale in the history of New York City.[121]
From 1994 to 2002, Trump owned a 50% share of the Empire State Building. He would have renamed it "Trump Empire State Building Tower Apartments" if he had been able to boost his share.[122][123]
In 2001, Trump completed Trump World Tower, which was across from the headquarters of the United Nations. For a while, the structure was the tallest all-residential tower in the world.[124] In 2002, Trump acquired the former Hotel Delmonico, which was renovated and reopened in 2004 as the Trump Park Avenue; the building consisted of 35 stories of luxury condominiums.[125] Meanwhile, he continued to own millions of square feet of other prime Manhattan real estate.[126]
Palm Beach estate
Main article: Mar-a-Lago
Mar-a-Lago in 2009
The Trumps with Chinese President Xi Jinping and wife at Mar-a-Lago in 2017
In 1985, Trump acquired the historic Mar-a-Lago estate in Palm Beach, Florida for $5 million plus $3 million for the home's furnishings. The home was built in the 1920s by heiress and socialite Marjorie Merriweather Post, who envisioned the house as a future winter retreat for American presidents.
Trump's initial offer of $28 million had been rejected, and he was able to get the property at the much lower price by purchasing separate beachfront property and threatening to build a house on it that would block Mar-a-Lago's ocean view. In addition to using the estate as a home, Trump also turned it into a private club open to everyone who could afford the initiation fee of $100,000 plus annual dues.[127]
In 1986, Trump acquired a foreclosed 33-story, twin-tower condominium complex in nearby West Palm Beach for $40 million. Auto CEO Lee Iacocca invested in three of the condos.[128] Trump spruced up the complex's public areas and heavily promoted the property for years, but selling the units proved difficult, and the deal turned out to be unprofitable.[129]
Atlantic City casinos
New Jersey legalized casino gambling in 1977, and the following year Trump was in Atlantic City, New Jersey, to explore how he might get involved in a new business venture. Seven years later, Harrah's at Trump Plazahotel and casino opened there, built by Trump with financing from Holiday Corporation, which also managed the operation.[130] Renamed "Trump Plaza" soon after it opened, it was at the time the tallest building in Atlantic City.[131] The casino's poor financial results exacerbated disagreements between Trump and Holiday Corp., which led to Trump's paying $70 million in May 1986 to buy out their interest in the property.[132][133]Trump also acquired a partially completed building in Atlantic City from the Hilton Corporation for $320 million; when completed in 1985, that hotel and casino became Trump Castle, and Trump's wife, Ivana, managed that property until Trump transferred her in 1988 to run the Trump Plaza Hotel in New York.[134][135]
Entrance of the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City
Also in 1988, Trump acquired his third casino in Atlantic City, the Taj Mahal (then halfway through construction), through a complex transaction with television host and entertainer Merv Griffin as well as the resort and casino company Resorts International.[136] In October 1989, three of his top Atlantic City executives were killed in a helicopter accident, which both stymied and delayed the planned opening of the Taj Mahal.[137] The Taj finally opened in April 1990 and was built at a total cost of $1.1 billion, which at the time made it the most expensive casino ever.[138][139] The project was financed with $675 million in junk bonds[140] and was a major gamble by Trump.[141] The project underwent debt restructuringthe following year,[142] leaving Trump with 50% ownership.[143] He also sold his 282-foot (86 m) megayacht, the Trump Princess, which had been indefinitely docked in Atlantic City while leased to his casinos for use by wealthy gamblers.[144][145]
In 1995, Trump founded Trump Hotels & Casino Resorts (THCR), which assumed ownership of Trump Plaza, Trump Castle, and the Trump Casino in Gary, Indiana.[146] THCR purchased Taj Mahal in 1996 and underwent bankruptcy restructuring in 2004 and 2009, leaving Trump with 10% ownership in the Trump Taj Mahal and other Trump casino properties.[147] From mid 1995 until early 2009, he served as chairman of the publicly-traded THCR organization—which was renamed Trump Entertainment Resorts—and served as CEO from mid 2000 to mid 2005.[148]
During the 1990s, Trump's casino ventures faced competition from Native American gaming at the Foxwoods casino located on an Indian reservation in Connecticut, where it was exempt from the state's anti-gambling laws. Trump stated in 1993 that the casino owners did not look like real Indians to him or to other Indians.[149] Subsequent to that well-publicized remark about the Mashantucket Pequot Tribe, Trump became a key investor backing the Paucatuck Eastern Pequots, who were also seeking state recognition.[150]
Golf courses
Turnberry Hotel and golf course, Ayrshire, Scotland
The Trump Organization operates many golf courses and resorts in the United States and around the world. According to Golfweek, Trump owns or manages about 18 golf courses.[151] His personal financial disclosure with the Federal Elections Commission stated that his golf and resort revenue for the year 2015 was roughly $382 million,[76][86]while his three European golf courses did not show a profit.[89]
In 2006, Trump bought 1,400 acres (570 ha), including the Menie Estate in Balmedie, Aberdeenshire, Scotland, and created a golf resort there.[152] Scottish supporters emphasized potential economic benefits, and opponents emphasized potential environmental harm to a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI).[153][154][155] A spokesperson for the golf course has said 95% of the SSSI is untouched.[156] A 2011 independent documentary, You've Been Trumped, chronicled the golf resort's construction and struggles.[157] In 2015, an offshore windfarm being built within sight of the golf course prompted a legal challenge by Trump, which was dismissed by the U.K. Supreme Court.[158] In the wake of the 2008 recession, Trump greatly scaled back development of this property, and as of December 2016 Scottish officials were pushing for completion of the far larger development as originally approved.[159]
In April 2014, Trump purchased the Turnberry hotel and golf resort in Ayrshire, Scotland, which hosted the Open Championship four times between 1977 and 2009.[160][161] After extensive renovations and a remodeling of the course by golf architect Martin Ebert, Turnberry was re-opened in June 2016.[162]
Hotels outside New York
Trump International Hotel and Tower in Chicago
Trump International Hotel and Tower in Vancouver
In the late 2000s and early 2010s, The Trump Organization expanded its footprint beyond New York with the co-development and management of hotel towers in Chicago, Las Vegas, Washington D.C., Panama City, Toronto, and Vancouver. There are also Trump-branded buildings in Dubai, Honolulu, Istanbul, Manila, Mumbai and in Indonesia.[163]
Branding and licensing
Main article: List of things named after Donald Trump
Trump has marketed his name on a large number of building projects that are owned and operated by other people and companies. He has also licensed his name for various commercial products and services. In doing so, he achieved mixed success for himself, his partners, and investors in the projects.[164] In 2011, Forbes' financial experts estimated the value of the Trump brand at $200 million. Trump disputed this valuation, saying his brand was worth about $3 billion.[165]
Legal affairs and bankruptcies
Main article: Legal affairs of Donald Trump
As of 2016, Trump and his businesses had been involved in more than 3,500 state and federal legal actions. He or one of his companies was the plaintiff in 1,900 cases and the defendant in 1,450. With Trump or his company as plaintiff, more than half the cases have been against gamblers at his casinos who had failed to pay off their debts. With Trump or his company as a defendant, the most common type of case involved personal injury cases at his hotels. In cases where there was a clear resolution, Trump's side won 451 times and lost 38.[166][167]
Trump has never filed for personal bankruptcy, but his hotel and casino businesses have been declared bankrupt six times between 1991 and 2009 in order to re-negotiate debt with banks and owners of stock and bonds.[168][169] Because the businesses used Chapter 11 bankruptcy, they were allowed to operate while negotiations proceeded. Trump was quoted by Newsweek in 2011 saying, "I do play with the bankruptcy laws – they're very good for me" as a tool for trimming debt.[170][171]
The six bankruptcies were the result of over-leveraged hotel and casino businesses in Atlantic City and New York: Trump Taj Mahal (1991), Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino (1992), Plaza Hotel (1992), Trump Castle Hotel and Casino (1992), Trump Hotels and Casino Resorts (2004), and Trump Entertainment Resorts (2009).[172][173] Trump said, "I've used the laws of this country to pare debt ... We'll have the company. We'll throw it into a chapter. We'll negotiate with the banks. We'll make a fantastic deal. You know, it's like on The Apprentice. It's not personal. It's just business."[142]
A 2016 analysis of Trump's business career by The Economist concluded that his "... performance [from 1985 to 2016] has been mediocre compared with the stock market and property in New York", noting both his successes and bankruptcies.[174] A subsequent analysis by The Washington Post concluded that "Trump is a mix of braggadocio, business failures, and real success", calling his casino bankruptcies the "most infamous flop" of his business career.[175]
Side ventures
After Trump took over the family real estate firm in 1971 and renamed it The Trump Organization, he greatly expanded its real estate operations, and also ventured into numerous other business activities. The company eventually became the umbrella organization for several hundred individual business ventures and partnerships.[176]
Sports events
In September 1983, Trump purchased the New Jersey Generals—an American football team that played in the United States Football League (USFL)—from oil magnate J. Walter Duncan. The USFL played three seasons during the spring and summer. After the 1985 season, the organization folded due to continuous financial difficulties, despite winning an antitrust lawsuit against the NFL.[177]
Trump remained involved with other sports after the Generals folded; he operated golf courses in several countries.[177] At the Trump Plaza in Atlantic City, he hosted several boxing matches, which included Mike Tyson's 1988 heavyweight championship fight against Michael Spinks.[178] He also acted as a financial advisor to Mike Tyson.[179] In 1989 and 1990, Trump lent his name to the Tour de Trump cycling stage race, which was an attempt to create an American equivalent of European races such as the Tour de France or the Giro d'Italia.[180]
Miss Universe
Main articles: Miss Universe, Miss USA, and Miss Teen USA
From 1996 to 2015, Trump owned part or all of the Miss Universe pageants.[181][182] The Miss Universe Pageants include Miss USA and Miss Teen USA, and his management of this business involved his family members; for example, daughter Ivanka once hosted Miss Teen USA. Trump hired the first female president of the Miss Universe business in 1997.[183] He became dissatisfied with how CBS scheduled the pageants, and took both Miss Universe and Miss USA to NBC in 2002.[184][185]
In his 2015 U.S. presidential campaign kickoff speech, Trump made statements about illegal immigrants who crossed the border from Mexico. NBC then decided to end its business relationship with him and stated that it would no longer air the Miss Universe or Miss USA pageants on its networks.[186] In September 2015, Trump bought NBC's share of the Miss Universe Organization and became its sole owner for three days. He then sold the entire company to the WME/IMG talent agency.[187]
Trump University
Main article: Trump University
Trump University was a for-profit education company that was founded by Trump and his associates, Michael Sexton and Jonathan Spitalny. The company ran a real estate training program and charged between $1,500 and $35,000 per course.[188][189][190] In 2005, the operation was notified by New York State authorities that its use of the word "university" was misleading and violated state law. After a second such notification in 2010, the name of the company was changed to the "Trump Entrepreneurial Institute".[191] Trump was also found personally liable for failing to obtain a business license for the operation.[192]
In 2013, the State of New York filed a $40 million civil suit alleging that Trump University made false statements and defrauded consumers.[191][193] In addition, two class-action civil lawsuits were filed in federal court relating to Trump University; they named Trump personally as well as his companies.[194] During the presidential campaign, Trump criticized Judge Gonzalo P. Curiel who oversaw those two cases, alleging bias in his rulings because of his Mexican heritage.[195][196] Shortly after Trump won the presidency, the parties agreed to a settlement of all three pending cases, whereby Trump paid a total of $25 million and denied any wrongdoing.[197][198]
Foundation
Main article: Donald J. Trump Foundation
The Donald J. Trump Foundation is a U.S.-based private foundation[199] established in 1988 for the initial purpose of giving away proceeds from the book Trump: The Art of the Deal.[200][201] The foundation's funds have mostly come from donors other than Trump,[202] who has not given personally to the charity since 2008.[202]
The foundation's tax returns show that it has given to health care and sports-related charities, as well as conservative groups.[203] In 2009, for example, the foundation gave $926,750 to about 40 groups, with the biggest donations going to the Arnold Palmer Medical Center Foundation ($100,000), the New York–Presbyterian Hospital ($125,000), the Police Athletic League ($156,000), and the Clinton Foundation ($100,000).[204][205] From 2004 to 2014, the top donors to the foundation were Vince and Linda McMahon of WWE, who donated $5 million to the foundation after Trump appeared at WrestleMania in 2007.[202] Linda McMahon later became Administrator of the Small Business Administration.[206]
In 2016, investigations by The Washington Post uncovered several potential legal and ethical violations conducted by the charity, including alleged self-dealing and possible tax evasion.[207] After beginning an investigation into the foundation, the New York State Attorney General's office notified the Trump Foundation that it was allegedly in violation of New York laws regarding charities, and ordered it to immediately cease its fundraising activities in New York.[208][209][210] A Trump spokesman called the investigation a "partisan hit job".[208] In response to mounting complaints, Trump's team announced in late December 2016 that the Trump Foundation would be dissolved to remove "even the appearance of any conflict with [his] role as President."[211] According to an IRS filing in November 2017, the foundation intends to shut down and distribute its assets (about $970,000) to other charities. However, a spokesperson for the New York Attorney General's office said the foundation cannot legally shut down until an ongoing investigation of the charity is completed.[212]
Post-election resignation
When Trump was elected president of the United States in November 2016, questions arose over how he would avoid conflicts of interest between his work in the White House and his business activities. At a press conference on January 10, 2017, Trump said that he and his daughter Ivanka would resign all roles with The Trump Organization, while his two adult sons Don Jr. and Eric would run the business, together with Chief Financial Officer Allen Weisselberg.[213]
Trump retained his financial stake in the business.[214] His attorney Sherri Dillon said that before the January 20 inauguration, Trump would put those business assets into a trust, which would hire an ethics advisor and a compliance counsel. She added that The Trump Organization would not enter any new foreign business deals, while continuing to pursue domestic opportunities.[215] As of April 2017, Trump companies owned more than 400 condo units and home lots in the United States, valued at over $250 million in total ($200,000 to $35 million each).[216]
Trump was born in the New York City borough of Queens. He earned an economics degree from the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. A third-generation businessman, Trump followed in the footsteps of his grandmother Elizabeth and father Fred in running the family real estate company (now The Trump Organization). He controlled it from 1971 until his inauguration as president in January 2017, when he delegated company management to his sons Donald Jr. and Eric. Trump's business career primarily focused on building or renovating office towers, hotels, casinos, and golf courses. Trump has also started multiple side ventures and branded various products with his name. He has written or co-authored several books, including The Art of the Deal, and he produced and hosted the television show The Apprentice for 12 years. As of 2017, he was the 544th richest person in the world, with an estimated net worth of $3.5 billion.
Trump had expressed interest in politics as early as 1987. He entered the 2016 presidential race as a Republican, and defeated sixteen opponents in the primaries. Commentators described his political positions as populist, protectionist, and nationalist. His campaign received extensive free media coverage; many of his public statements were controversial or false. Trump won the general election on November 8, 2016 against Democratic opponent Hillary Clinton. He became the oldest and wealthiest person ever to assume the presidency, the first without prior military or government service, and the fifth to have won the election despite losing the popular vote. His election and policies have sparked numerous protests.
In domestic policy, Trump has sought, so far without success, to repeal and replace the Affordable Care Act. He appointed Neil Gorsuch to the Supreme Court. He ordered a travel ban on citizens from several Muslim-majority countries, citing security concerns; the ban was partially implemented after legal challenges. In foreign policy, he withdrew the United States from the Trans-Pacific Partnership and from the Paris Climate Agreement, and undid parts of the Cuban Thaw. After Trump dismissed FBI Director James Comey, the Justice Department appointed a special counsel to continue the investigation into potential links between Russia and Trump campaign associates, and any related matters.
Ancestry
Further information: Trump family
Trump's ancestors originated from the German village of Kallstadt, Palatinate, on his father's side, and from the Outer Hebrides in Scotland on his mother's side. All his grandparents, and his mother, were born in Europe. His mother's grandfather was also christened "Donald".[2]
Trump's paternal grandfather, Friedrich Trump, first emigrated to the United States in 1885 at the age of 16, and became a citizen in 1892. He amassed a fortune operating boom-town restaurants and boarding houses in the Seattle area and the Klondike region of Canada during its gold rush.[3] On a visit to Kallstadt, he met Elisabeth Christ and married her in 1902. The couple settled in New York permanently in 1905.[4] Frederick died from influenza during the 1918 pandemic.[5]
Donald's father, Fred Trump, was born in 1905 in the Bronx. Fred started working with his mother in real estate when he was 15, shortly after his father's death. Their company, Elizabeth Trump and Son, was primarily active in the New York boroughs of Queens and Brooklyn. Fred eventually built and sold thousands of houses, barracks and apartments.[5][6] The company later became The Trump Organization after Donald Trump took over in 1971.[7]
Donald's mother, Mary Anne, was born in Tong, Lewis, Scotland. At age 18 in 1930, she emigrated to New York, where she worked as a maid.[8] Fred and Mary were married in 1936 and raised their family in Queens.[8][9]
Donald's uncle John Trump was an electrical engineer, physicist, and inventor. He was also a professor at MIT from 1936 to 1973. During World War II, he was involved in radar research for the Allies and helped design X-ray machines that were used to treat cancer.[10]
Early life and education
Senior yearbook photo of Trump in 1964 wearing the uniform of his private boarding school, New York Military Academy[11][12]
Donald Trump was born on June 14, 1946, at the Jamaica Hospital Medical Center, Queens, New York City. He was the fourth of five children born to Frederick Trump (1905–1999) and Mary Anne Trump (née MacLeod, 1912–2000).[13] His siblings are Maryanne (b. 1937), Fred Jr. (1938–1981), Elizabeth (b. 1942), and Robert (b. 1948).
Trump grew up in the Jamaica Estates neighborhood of Queens. He attended the Kew-Forest School from kindergarten through seventh grade. At age 13, he enrolled in the New York Military Academy, a private boarding school, after his parents discovered that he had made frequent trips into Manhattan without their permission.[14][15]
In August 1964, Trump began his higher education at Fordham University.[11][16] After two years, he transferred to the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, because it offered one of the few real-estate studies departments in United States academia at the time.[16][17]
In addition to his father, Trump was inspired by Manhattan developer William Zeckendorf, vowing to be "even bigger and better".[18] While at Wharton, he worked at the family business, Elizabeth Trump and Son,[19] graduating in May 1968 with a Bachelor of Science degree in economics.[16][20][21]
Trump did not enlist or get drafted during the Vietnam War.[22] While in college from 1964 to 1968, he obtained four student deferments.[23] In 1966, he was deemed fit for service based upon a military medical examination, and in 1968 was briefly classified as fit by a local draft board. In September of that year, he was given a medical deferment, which he later attributed to heel spurs.[24] In 1969, he received a high number in the draft lottery, which gave him a low probability to be called to military service.[24][25][26]
Family
Main article: Family of Donald Trump
Donald Trump is sworn in as president on January 20, 2017: Trump, wife Melania, son Donald Jr., son Barron, daughter Ivanka, son Eric, and daughter Tiffany
Trump has five children by three marriages, as well as nine grandchildren.[27][28] His first two marriages ended in widely publicized divorces.[29]
Trump was 30 years old when he married his first wife, Czech model Ivana Zelníčková in 1977 at the Marble Collegiate Church in Manhattan in a ceremony performed by the Reverend Norman Vincent Peale.[30][31] They had three children: Donald Jr. (b. 1977), Ivanka (b. 1981), and Eric (b. 1984). Ivana became a naturalized United States citizen in 1988.[32] The couple divorced in 1992, following Trump's affair with actress Marla Maples.[33]
In October 1993, Maples gave birth to Trump's daughter, who was named Tiffany after high-end retailer Tiffany & Company.[34] Maples and Trump were married two months later on December 20, 1993.[35] They divorced in 1999,[36] and Tiffany was raised by Marla in California.[37]
The President and First Lady at the Liberty Ball on Inauguration Day
On January 22, 2005, Trump married his third wife, Slovenian model Melania Knauss, at Bethesda-by-the-Sea Episcopal Church in Palm Beach, Florida. The ceremony was followed by a reception at Trump's Mar-a-Lago estate.[38] In 2006, Melania became a United States citizen[39] and on March 20 of that year gave birth to a son, Barron.[40][41] Melania became First Lady of the United States upon Trump's inauguration as the nation's 45th president in January 2017.[42]
Upon his inauguration as president, Trump delegated the management of his real estate business to his two adult sons, Eric and Don Jr.[43] His daughter Ivanka resigned from The Trump Organization and moved to Washington with her husband Jared Kushner. She serves as an assistant to the president,[44] and he is a Senior Advisor in the White House.[45]
Trump's elder sister, Maryanne Barry, is an inactive Federal Appeals Court judge on the Third Circuit.[46]
Religion
Trump's ancestors were Lutheran on his father's side in Germany[47] and Presbyterian on his mother's side in Scotland.[48] His parents married in a Manhattan Presbyterian church in 1936.[49] As a child, he attended the First Presbyterian Church in Jamaica, Queens, and had his Confirmation there.[31] In the 1970s, his family joined the Marble Collegiate Church (an affiliate of the Reformed Church in America) in Manhattan.[50] The pastor at that church, Norman Vincent Peale, author of The Power of Positive Thinking and The Art of Living, ministered to Trump's family and mentored him until Peale's death in 1993.[51][50] Trump, who is Presbyterian,[52][53] has cited Peale and his works during interviews when asked about the role of religion in his personal life.[50]
Trump receives Holy Communion, but he has said that he does not ask God for forgiveness. He stated: "I think if I do something wrong, I just try and make it right. I don't bring God into that picture....I guess that [Communion] is a form of asking for forgiveness”.[54] On the campaign trail, Trump has referred to The Art of the Deal as his second favorite book after the Bible, saying, "Nothing beats the Bible."[55] In a 2016 speech to Liberty University, he referred to "2 Corinthians" (pronounced "Second Corinthians") as "Two Corinthians", eliciting chuckles from the audience.[56][57] The New York Times reported that Evangelical Christians nationwide thought "that his heart was in the right place, that his intentions for the country were pure".[58]
Trump has had associations with a number of Christian spiritual leaders, including Florida pastor Paula White, who has been called his "closest spiritual confidant."[59] In 2015, he received a blessing from Greek Orthodox priest Emmanuel Lemelson[60] and in 2016, he released a list of his religious advisers, including James Dobson, Jerry Falwell Jr., Ralph Reed and others.[61] Referring to his daughter Ivanka's conversion to Judaism before her marriage to Jared Kushner, Trump said: "I have a Jewish daughter; and I am very honored by that."[62]
Health
Trump's physician, Harold Bornstein, issued a 2016 medical report that showed Trump's blood pressure and liver and thyroid function to be in normal ranges.[63][64] It also showed that he is overweight and takes statins to lower his cholesterol.[64] Trump has said that he has never smoked cigarettes or consumed drugs, including marijuana.[65] He also drinks no alcohol; this decision arose in part from watching his older brother Fred Jr. suffer from alcoholism that contributed to his early death in 1981.[66][67]
Wealth
Trump said that he began his career with "a small loan of one million dollars" from his father.[68] He appeared on the initial Forbes 400 list of wealthy individuals in 1982 with an estimated $200 million fortune, including an "undefined" share of his parents' estate.[69] During the late 1980s he became a billionaire,[70] and made the Forbes World's Billionaires list for the first time in 1989,[71] but he was absent from the Forbes 400 list following business losses from 1990 to 1995; he reportedly borrowed from his siblings' trusts in 1993.[69] His father's estate, valued at more than $20 million, was divided in 1999 among Trump, his three surviving siblings and their children.[72][73]
Trump International Hotel Las Vegas, with gold infused glass[74]
When Trump announced his candidacy for the presidency on June 16, 2015, he released a one-page financial summary that stated a net worth of $8,737,540,000.[75] The following month, he filed a 92-page Federal Election Commission (FEC) financial disclosure form[76] and declared his net worth was "in excess of ten billion dollars".[77] In his presidential announcement speech, he said "I'm really rich", and said this would make him less indebted to large campaign donors.[78][79] Forbes called his net worth estimate "a whopper", setting their own estimate at $4.1 billion in 2015. Trump valued his "properties under development" at $293 million; Forbes said they could not evaluate those deals, and booked them for $0.[80][81] Trump's 2015 FEC disclosure reported $362 million in total income for the year 2014.[77]
After Trump made controversial remarks about illegal immigrants in 2015, he lost business contracts with several companies; this reduced his Forbes estimate by $125 million.[82]Consumer boycotts and reduced bookings may have further affected his brand value during the presidential campaign.[83][84][85] Trump's 104-page FEC disclosure in May 2016[86] still claimed a total wealth over $10 billion, unchanged from 2015.[76] The release of the Access Hollywood tapes in October 2016 put further pressure on his brand,[87] but real estate experts predicted a positive rebound after he was elected.[88]
In its 2017 billionaires' ranking, Forbes estimated Trump's net worth at $3.5 billion (544th in the world, 201st in the U.S.)[1] making him one of the richest politicians in American history. These estimates fluctuate from year to year, and among various analysts. In July 2016 Bloomberg News had pegged his wealth at $3 billion, calling it an increase thanks to his presidential nomination,[89] whereas Forbes had ranked him 324th in the world (113th in the U.S.) with $4.5 billion just a few months earlier.[90] The discrepancies among these estimates and with Trump's own figures stem mainly from the uncertain values of appraised property and of his personal brand.[89][91]
In November 2017 the Trump Organization's revenue was suggested, by federal filings, to be $600m-$700m rather than the $9.5b previously claimed by the organization.[92]
Business career
Main article: Business career of Donald Trump
Real estate
The distinctive façade of Trump Tower in Midtown Manhattan
Trump started his career at his father's real estate development company, Elizabeth Trump and Son, which owned middle-class rental housing in New York City's outer boroughs, but also had business elsewhere.[93] For example, during his undergraduate study, Trump joined his father Fred in successfully revitalizing the foreclosed Swifton Village apartment complex in Cincinnati, Ohio, boosting the occupancy rate from 66% to 100%.[94][95]
When his father became chairman of the board in 1971, Trump was promoted to president of the company and renamed it The Trump Organization.[7][96] In 1973, he and his father drew wider attention when the Justice Department contended that the organization systematically discriminated against African Americans wishing to rent apartments rather than merely screening out people based on low income as the Trumps stated. Under an agreement reached in 1975, the Trumps made no admission of wrongdoing, and made the Urban League an intermediary for qualified minority applicants.[97][98] His adviser and attorney during (and after) that period was Roy Cohn, who responded to attacks by counterattacking with maximum force, and who valued both positive and negative publicity, which were attitudes that Trump appreciated.[99]
Manhattan developments
In 1978, Trump consummated his first major real estate deal in Manhattan when he purchased a half-share in the decrepit Commodore Hotel. The purchase was largely funded by a $70 million construction loan that was jointly guaranteed by Fred Trump and the Hyatt hotel chain. Designed by architect Der Scutt, the project leveraged competing interests and by taking advantage of tax breaks.[100] After remodeling, the hotel reopened as the Grand Hyatt Hotel, located next to Grand Central Terminal.[101][102]
Also in 1978, Trump finished negotiations to develop Trump Tower, a 58-story, 202-meter (663-foot) skyscraper in Midtown Manhattan, which The New York Times attributed to his "persistence" and "skills as a negotiator".[103] To make way for the new building, a crew of undocumented Polish workers demolished an old Bonwit Teller store, including art decofeatures that had initially been marked for preservation.[104] The building was completed in 1983 and houses both the primary penthouse condominium residence of Trump and the headquarters of The Trump Organization.[105][106] Architectural critic Paul Goldberger said in 1983 that he was surprised to find the tower's atrium was "the most pleasant interior public space to be completed in New York in some years".[107][108] Trump Tower was the setting of the NBC television show The Apprentice and includes a fully functional television studio set.[109]
Central Park's Wollman Rink after the Trump renovation
Repairs on Central Park's Wollman Rink begun in 1980 by a general contractor who was unconnected to Trump. Despite an anticipated two and a half year construction timeframe, the repairs remained incomplete in 1986. Trump took over the project, completed it in three months for $1.95 million, $775,000 less than the initial budget. He operated the rink for a year with most profits going to charity and public work projects,[110] in exchange for the rink's concession rights.[111]
In 1988 Trump acquired the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan for a record-setting $407 million and asked his wife Ivana to manage its operation.[112] Trump invested $50 million to restore the building, which he called "the Mona Lisa".[113] According to hotel expert Thomas McConnell, the Trumps boosted it from a three-star to a four-star ranking and sold it in 1995, by which time Ivana was no longer involved.[114]
In 1994, Trump became involved with a building on Columbus Circle that was swaying in the wind. He began a reconstruction project that stopped the swaying and gave the building a full makeover.[115][116] Trump thereafter owned commercial space in that 44-story mixed-use tower (hotel and condominium), which he named Trump International Hotel and Tower.[117]
In 1996, Trump acquired the Bank of Manhattan Trust Building, which was a vacant seventy-one story skyscraper on Wall Street that had briefly been the tallest building in the world when it was completed in 1930. After an extensive renovation, the high-rise was renamed the Trump Building at 40 Wall Street.[118]
In 1997, he began construction on Riverside South, which he dubbed Trump Place, a multi-building development along the Hudson River. The project encountered delays the following year because a subcontracter had to replace defective concrete.[119][120] He and the other investors in the project ultimately sold their interest for $1.8 billion in 2005 in what was then the biggest residential sale in the history of New York City.[121]
From 1994 to 2002, Trump owned a 50% share of the Empire State Building. He would have renamed it "Trump Empire State Building Tower Apartments" if he had been able to boost his share.[122][123]
In 2001, Trump completed Trump World Tower, which was across from the headquarters of the United Nations. For a while, the structure was the tallest all-residential tower in the world.[124] In 2002, Trump acquired the former Hotel Delmonico, which was renovated and reopened in 2004 as the Trump Park Avenue; the building consisted of 35 stories of luxury condominiums.[125] Meanwhile, he continued to own millions of square feet of other prime Manhattan real estate.[126]
Palm Beach estate
Main article: Mar-a-Lago
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Mar-a-Lago in 2009
The Trumps with Chinese President Xi Jinping and wife at Mar-a-Lago in 2017
In 1985, Trump acquired the historic Mar-a-Lago estate in Palm Beach, Florida for $5 million plus $3 million for the home's furnishings. The home was built in the 1920s by heiress and socialite Marjorie Merriweather Post, who envisioned the house as a future winter retreat for American presidents.
Trump's initial offer of $28 million had been rejected, and he was able to get the property at the much lower price by purchasing separate beachfront property and threatening to build a house on it that would block Mar-a-Lago's ocean view. In addition to using the estate as a home, Trump also turned it into a private club open to everyone who could afford the initiation fee of $100,000 plus annual dues.[127]
In 1986, Trump acquired a foreclosed 33-story, twin-tower condominium complex in nearby West Palm Beach for $40 million. Auto CEO Lee Iacocca invested in three of the condos.[128] Trump spruced up the complex's public areas and heavily promoted the property for years, but selling the units proved difficult, and the deal turned out to be unprofitable.[129]
Atlantic City casinos
New Jersey legalized casino gambling in 1977, and the following year Trump was in Atlantic City, New Jersey, to explore how he might get involved in a new business venture. Seven years later, Harrah's at Trump Plazahotel and casino opened there, built by Trump with financing from Holiday Corporation, which also managed the operation.[130] Renamed "Trump Plaza" soon after it opened, it was at the time the tallest building in Atlantic City.[131] The casino's poor financial results exacerbated disagreements between Trump and Holiday Corp., which led to Trump's paying $70 million in May 1986 to buy out their interest in the property.[132][133]Trump also acquired a partially completed building in Atlantic City from the Hilton Corporation for $320 million; when completed in 1985, that hotel and casino became Trump Castle, and Trump's wife, Ivana, managed that property until Trump transferred her in 1988 to run the Trump Plaza Hotel in New York.[134][135]
Entrance of the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City
Also in 1988, Trump acquired his third casino in Atlantic City, the Taj Mahal (then halfway through construction), through a complex transaction with television host and entertainer Merv Griffin as well as the resort and casino company Resorts International.[136] In October 1989, three of his top Atlantic City executives were killed in a helicopter accident, which both stymied and delayed the planned opening of the Taj Mahal.[137] The Taj finally opened in April 1990 and was built at a total cost of $1.1 billion, which at the time made it the most expensive casino ever.[138][139] The project was financed with $675 million in junk bonds[140] and was a major gamble by Trump.[141] The project underwent debt restructuringthe following year,[142] leaving Trump with 50% ownership.[143] He also sold his 282-foot (86 m) megayacht, the Trump Princess, which had been indefinitely docked in Atlantic City while leased to his casinos for use by wealthy gamblers.[144][145]
In 1995, Trump founded Trump Hotels & Casino Resorts (THCR), which assumed ownership of Trump Plaza, Trump Castle, and the Trump Casino in Gary, Indiana.[146] THCR purchased Taj Mahal in 1996 and underwent bankruptcy restructuring in 2004 and 2009, leaving Trump with 10% ownership in the Trump Taj Mahal and other Trump casino properties.[147] From mid 1995 until early 2009, he served as chairman of the publicly-traded THCR organization—which was renamed Trump Entertainment Resorts—and served as CEO from mid 2000 to mid 2005.[148]
During the 1990s, Trump's casino ventures faced competition from Native American gaming at the Foxwoods casino located on an Indian reservation in Connecticut, where it was exempt from the state's anti-gambling laws. Trump stated in 1993 that the casino owners did not look like real Indians to him or to other Indians.[149] Subsequent to that well-publicized remark about the Mashantucket Pequot Tribe, Trump became a key investor backing the Paucatuck Eastern Pequots, who were also seeking state recognition.[150]
Golf courses
Turnberry Hotel and golf course, Ayrshire, Scotland
The Trump Organization operates many golf courses and resorts in the United States and around the world. According to Golfweek, Trump owns or manages about 18 golf courses.[151] His personal financial disclosure with the Federal Elections Commission stated that his golf and resort revenue for the year 2015 was roughly $382 million,[76][86]while his three European golf courses did not show a profit.[89]
In 2006, Trump bought 1,400 acres (570 ha), including the Menie Estate in Balmedie, Aberdeenshire, Scotland, and created a golf resort there.[152] Scottish supporters emphasized potential economic benefits, and opponents emphasized potential environmental harm to a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI).[153][154][155] A spokesperson for the golf course has said 95% of the SSSI is untouched.[156] A 2011 independent documentary, You've Been Trumped, chronicled the golf resort's construction and struggles.[157] In 2015, an offshore windfarm being built within sight of the golf course prompted a legal challenge by Trump, which was dismissed by the U.K. Supreme Court.[158] In the wake of the 2008 recession, Trump greatly scaled back development of this property, and as of December 2016 Scottish officials were pushing for completion of the far larger development as originally approved.[159]
In April 2014, Trump purchased the Turnberry hotel and golf resort in Ayrshire, Scotland, which hosted the Open Championship four times between 1977 and 2009.[160][161] After extensive renovations and a remodeling of the course by golf architect Martin Ebert, Turnberry was re-opened in June 2016.[162]
Hotels outside New York
Trump International Hotel and Tower in Chicago
Trump International Hotel and Tower in Vancouver
In the late 2000s and early 2010s, The Trump Organization expanded its footprint beyond New York with the co-development and management of hotel towers in Chicago, Las Vegas, Washington D.C., Panama City, Toronto, and Vancouver. There are also Trump-branded buildings in Dubai, Honolulu, Istanbul, Manila, Mumbai and in Indonesia.[163]
Branding and licensing
Main article: List of things named after Donald Trump
Trump has marketed his name on a large number of building projects that are owned and operated by other people and companies. He has also licensed his name for various commercial products and services. In doing so, he achieved mixed success for himself, his partners, and investors in the projects.[164] In 2011, Forbes' financial experts estimated the value of the Trump brand at $200 million. Trump disputed this valuation, saying his brand was worth about $3 billion.[165]
Legal affairs and bankruptcies
Main article: Legal affairs of Donald Trump
As of 2016, Trump and his businesses had been involved in more than 3,500 state and federal legal actions. He or one of his companies was the plaintiff in 1,900 cases and the defendant in 1,450. With Trump or his company as plaintiff, more than half the cases have been against gamblers at his casinos who had failed to pay off their debts. With Trump or his company as a defendant, the most common type of case involved personal injury cases at his hotels. In cases where there was a clear resolution, Trump's side won 451 times and lost 38.[166][167]
Trump has never filed for personal bankruptcy, but his hotel and casino businesses have been declared bankrupt six times between 1991 and 2009 in order to re-negotiate debt with banks and owners of stock and bonds.[168][169] Because the businesses used Chapter 11 bankruptcy, they were allowed to operate while negotiations proceeded. Trump was quoted by Newsweek in 2011 saying, "I do play with the bankruptcy laws – they're very good for me" as a tool for trimming debt.[170][171]
The six bankruptcies were the result of over-leveraged hotel and casino businesses in Atlantic City and New York: Trump Taj Mahal (1991), Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino (1992), Plaza Hotel (1992), Trump Castle Hotel and Casino (1992), Trump Hotels and Casino Resorts (2004), and Trump Entertainment Resorts (2009).[172][173] Trump said, "I've used the laws of this country to pare debt ... We'll have the company. We'll throw it into a chapter. We'll negotiate with the banks. We'll make a fantastic deal. You know, it's like on The Apprentice. It's not personal. It's just business."[142]
A 2016 analysis of Trump's business career by The Economist concluded that his "... performance [from 1985 to 2016] has been mediocre compared with the stock market and property in New York", noting both his successes and bankruptcies.[174] A subsequent analysis by The Washington Post concluded that "Trump is a mix of braggadocio, business failures, and real success", calling his casino bankruptcies the "most infamous flop" of his business career.[175]
Side ventures
After Trump took over the family real estate firm in 1971 and renamed it The Trump Organization, he greatly expanded its real estate operations, and also ventured into numerous other business activities. The company eventually became the umbrella organization for several hundred individual business ventures and partnerships.[176]
Sports events
In September 1983, Trump purchased the New Jersey Generals—an American football team that played in the United States Football League (USFL)—from oil magnate J. Walter Duncan. The USFL played three seasons during the spring and summer. After the 1985 season, the organization folded due to continuous financial difficulties, despite winning an antitrust lawsuit against the NFL.[177]
Trump remained involved with other sports after the Generals folded; he operated golf courses in several countries.[177] At the Trump Plaza in Atlantic City, he hosted several boxing matches, which included Mike Tyson's 1988 heavyweight championship fight against Michael Spinks.[178] He also acted as a financial advisor to Mike Tyson.[179] In 1989 and 1990, Trump lent his name to the Tour de Trump cycling stage race, which was an attempt to create an American equivalent of European races such as the Tour de France or the Giro d'Italia.[180]
Miss Universe
Main articles: Miss Universe, Miss USA, and Miss Teen USA
From 1996 to 2015, Trump owned part or all of the Miss Universe pageants.[181][182] The Miss Universe Pageants include Miss USA and Miss Teen USA, and his management of this business involved his family members; for example, daughter Ivanka once hosted Miss Teen USA. Trump hired the first female president of the Miss Universe business in 1997.[183] He became dissatisfied with how CBS scheduled the pageants, and took both Miss Universe and Miss USA to NBC in 2002.[184][185]
In his 2015 U.S. presidential campaign kickoff speech, Trump made statements about illegal immigrants who crossed the border from Mexico. NBC then decided to end its business relationship with him and stated that it would no longer air the Miss Universe or Miss USA pageants on its networks.[186] In September 2015, Trump bought NBC's share of the Miss Universe Organization and became its sole owner for three days. He then sold the entire company to the WME/IMG talent agency.[187]
Trump University
Main article: Trump University
Trump University was a for-profit education company that was founded by Trump and his associates, Michael Sexton and Jonathan Spitalny. The company ran a real estate training program and charged between $1,500 and $35,000 per course.[188][189][190] In 2005, the operation was notified by New York State authorities that its use of the word "university" was misleading and violated state law. After a second such notification in 2010, the name of the company was changed to the "Trump Entrepreneurial Institute".[191] Trump was also found personally liable for failing to obtain a business license for the operation.[192]
In 2013, the State of New York filed a $40 million civil suit alleging that Trump University made false statements and defrauded consumers.[191][193] In addition, two class-action civil lawsuits were filed in federal court relating to Trump University; they named Trump personally as well as his companies.[194] During the presidential campaign, Trump criticized Judge Gonzalo P. Curiel who oversaw those two cases, alleging bias in his rulings because of his Mexican heritage.[195][196] Shortly after Trump won the presidency, the parties agreed to a settlement of all three pending cases, whereby Trump paid a total of $25 million and denied any wrongdoing.[197][198]
Foundation
Main article: Donald J. Trump Foundation
The Donald J. Trump Foundation is a U.S.-based private foundation[199] established in 1988 for the initial purpose of giving away proceeds from the book Trump: The Art of the Deal.[200][201] The foundation's funds have mostly come from donors other than Trump,[202] who has not given personally to the charity since 2008.[202]
The foundation's tax returns show that it has given to health care and sports-related charities, as well as conservative groups.[203] In 2009, for example, the foundation gave $926,750 to about 40 groups, with the biggest donations going to the Arnold Palmer Medical Center Foundation ($100,000), the New York–Presbyterian Hospital ($125,000), the Police Athletic League ($156,000), and the Clinton Foundation ($100,000).[204][205] From 2004 to 2014, the top donors to the foundation were Vince and Linda McMahon of WWE, who donated $5 million to the foundation after Trump appeared at WrestleMania in 2007.[202] Linda McMahon later became Administrator of the Small Business Administration.[206]
In 2016, investigations by The Washington Post uncovered several potential legal and ethical violations conducted by the charity, including alleged self-dealing and possible tax evasion.[207] After beginning an investigation into the foundation, the New York State Attorney General's office notified the Trump Foundation that it was allegedly in violation of New York laws regarding charities, and ordered it to immediately cease its fundraising activities in New York.[208][209][210] A Trump spokesman called the investigation a "partisan hit job".[208] In response to mounting complaints, Trump's team announced in late December 2016 that the Trump Foundation would be dissolved to remove "even the appearance of any conflict with [his] role as President."[211] According to an IRS filing in November 2017, the foundation intends to shut down and distribute its assets (about $970,000) to other charities. However, a spokesperson for the New York Attorney General's office said the foundation cannot legally shut down until an ongoing investigation of the charity is completed.[212]
Post-election resignation
When Trump was elected president of the United States in November 2016, questions arose over how he would avoid conflicts of interest between his work in the White House and his business activities. At a press conference on January 10, 2017, Trump said that he and his daughter Ivanka would resign all roles with The Trump Organization, while his two adult sons Don Jr. and Eric would run the business, together with Chief Financial Officer Allen Weisselberg.[213]
Trump retained his financial stake in the business.[214] His attorney Sherri Dillon said that before the January 20 inauguration, Trump would put those business assets into a trust, which would hire an ethics advisor and a compliance counsel. She added that The Trump Organization would not enter any new foreign business deals, while continuing to pursue domestic opportunities.[215] As of April 2017, Trump companies owned more than 400 condo units and home lots in the United States, valued at over $250 million in total ($200,000 to $35 million each).[216]
(going to be doing the whole "Of Mice and Men" story in this thread 
) A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green. The water is warm too, for it has slipped twinkling over the yellow sands in the sunlight before reaching the narrow pool. On one side of the river the golden foothill slopes curve up to the strong and rocky Gabilan Mountains, but on the valley side the water is lined with trees — willows fresh and green with every spring, carrying in their lower leaf junctures the debris of the winter’s flooding; and sycamores with mottled, white, recumbent limbs and branches that arch over the pool. On the sandy bank under the trees the leaves lie deep and so crisp that a lizard makes a great skittering if he runs among them. Rabbits come out of the brush to sit on the sand in the evening, and the damp flats are covered with the night tracks of ‘coons, and with the spreadpads of dogs from the ranches, and with the split-wedge tracks of deer that come to drink in the dark.
There is a path through the willows and among the sycamores, a path beaten hard by boys coming down from the ranches to swim in the deep pool, and beaten hard by tramps who come wearily down from the highway in the evening to jungle-up near water. In front of the low horizontal limb of a giant sycamore there is an ash pile made by many fires; the limb is worn smooth by men who have sat on it.
Evening of a hot day started the little wind to moving among the leaves. The shade climbed up the hills toward the top. On the sand banks the rabbits sat as quietly as little gray sculptured stones. And then from the direction of the state highway came the sound of footsteps on crisp sycamore leaves. The rabbits hurried noiselessly for cover. A stilted heron labored up into the air and pounded down river. For a moment the place was lifeless, and then two men emerged from the path and came into the opening by the green pool.
They had walked in single file down the path, and even in the open one stayed behind the other. Both were dressed in denim trousers and in denim coats with brass buttons. Both wore black, shapeless hats and both carried tight blanket rolls slung over their shoulders. The first man was small and quick, dark of face, with restless eyes and sharp, strong features. Every part of him was defined: small, strong hands, slender arms, a thin and bony nose. Behind him walked his opposite, a huge man, shapeless of face, with large, pale eyes, and wide, sloping shoulders; and he walked heavily, dragging his feet a little, the way a bear drags his paws. His arms did not swing at his sides, but hung loosely.
The first man stopped short in the clearing, and the follower nearly ran over him. He took off his hat and wiped the sweat-band with his forefinger and snapped the moisture off. His huge companion dropped his blankets and flung himself down and drank from the surface of the green pool; drank with long gulps, snorting into the water like a horse. The small man stepped nervously beside him.
“Lennie!” he said sharply. “Lennie, for God’ sakes don’t drink so much.” Lennie continued to snort into the pool. The small man leaned over and shook him by the shoulder. “Lennie. You gonna be sick like you was last night.”
Lennie dipped his whole head under, hat and all, and then he sat up on the bank and his hat dripped down on his blue coat and ran down his back. “That’s good,” he said. “You drink some, George. You take a good big drink.” He smiled happily.
George unslung his bindle and dropped it gently on the bank. “I ain’t sure it’s good water,” he said. “Looks kinda scummy.”
Lennie dabbled his big paw in the water and wiggled his fingers so the water arose in little splashes; rings widened across the pool to the other side and came back again. Lennie watched them go. “Look, George. Look what I done.”
George knelt beside the pool and drank from his hand with quick scoops. “Tastes all right,” he admitted. “Don’t really seem to be running, though. You never oughta drink water when it ain’t running, Lennie,” he said hopelessly. “You’d drink out of a gutter if you was thirsty.” He threw a scoop of water into his face and rubbed it about with his hand, under his chin and around the back of his neck. Then he replaced his hat, pushed himself back from the river, drew up his knees and embraced them. Lennie, who had been watching, imitated George exactly. He pushed himself back, drew up his knees, embraced them, looked over to George to see whether he had it just right. He pulled his hat down a little more over his eyes, the way George’s hat was.
George stared morosely at the water. The rims of his eyes were red with sun glare. He said angrily, “We could just as well of rode clear to the ranch if that bastard bus driver knew what he was talkin’ about. ‘Jes’ a little stretch down the highway,’ he says. ‘Jes’ a little stretch.’ God damn near four miles, that’s what it was! Didn’t wanta stop at the ranch gate, that’s what. Too God damn lazy to pull up. Wonder he isn’t too damn good to stop in Soledad at all. Kicks us out and says ‘Jes’ a little stretch down the road.’ I bet it was more than four miles. Damn hot day.”
Lennie looked timidly over to him. “George?”
“Yeah, what ya want?”
“Where we goin’, George?”
The little man jerked down the brim of his hat and scowled over at Lennie. “So you forgot that awready, did you? I gotta tell you again, do I? Jesus Christ, you’re a crazy bastard!”
“I forgot,” Lennie said softly. “I tried not to forget. Honest to God I did, George.”
“O.K — O.K. I’ll tell ya again. I ain’t got nothing to do. Might jus’ as well spen’ all my time tellin’ you things and then you forget ‘em, and I tell you again.”
“Tried and tried,” said Lennie, “but it didn’t do no good. I remember about the rabbits, George.”
“The hell with the rabbits. That’s all you ever can remember is them rabbits. O.K.! Now you listen and this time you got to remember so we don’t get in no trouble. You remember settin’ in that gutter on Howard Street and watchin’ that blackboard?”
Lennie’s face broke into a delighted smile. “Why sure, George. I remember that.... but.... what’d we do then? I remember some girls come by and you says.... you says....”
“The hell with what I says. You remember about us goin’ in to Murray and Ready’s, and they give us work cards and bus tickets?”
“Oh, sure, George. I remember that now.” His hands went quickly into his side coat pockets. He said gently, “George.... I ain’t got mine. I musta lost it.” He looked down at the ground in despair.
“You never had none, you crazy bastard. I got both of ‘em here. Think I’d let you carry your own work card?”
Lennie grinned with relief. “I.... I thought I put it in my side pocket.” His hand went into the pocket again.
George looked sharply at him. “What’d you take outa that pocket?”
“Ain’t a thing in my pocket,” Lennie said cleverly.
“I know there ain’t. You got it in your hand. What you got in your hand — hidin’ it?”
“I ain’t got nothin’, George. Honest.”
“Come on, give it here.”
Lennie held his closed hand away from George’s direction. “It’s on’y a mouse, George.”
“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. They was lookin’ for us, but they didn’t catch us.”
Lennie giggled happily. “I didn’t forget that, you bet.”
George lay back on the sand and crossed his hands under his head, and Lennie imitated him, raising his head to see whether he was doing it right. “God, you’re a lot of trouble,” said George. “I could get along so easy and so nice if I didn’t have you on my tail. I could live so easy and maybe have a girl.”
For a moment Lennie lay quiet, and then he said hopefully, “We gonna work on a ranch, George.”
“Awright. You got that. But we’re gonna sleep here because I got a reason.”
The day was going fast now. Only the tops of the Gabilan Mountains flamed with the light of the sun that had gone from the valley. A water snake slipped along on the pool, its head held up like a little periscope. The reeds jerked slightly in the current. Far off toward the highway a man shouted something, and another man shouted back. The sycamore limbs rustled under a little wind that died immediately.
“George — why ain’t we goin’ on to the ranch and get some supper? They got supper at the ranch.”
George rolled on his side. “No reason at all for you. I like it here. Tomorra we’re gonna go to work. I seen thrashin’ machines on the way down. That means we’ll be buckin’ grain bags, bustin’ a gut. Tonight I’m gonna lay right here and look up. I like it.”
Lennie got up on his knees and looked down at George. “Ain’t we gonna have no supper?”
“Sure we are, if you gather up some dead willow sticks. I got three cans of beans in my bindle. You get a fire ready. I’ll give you a match when you get the sticks together. Then we’ll heat the beans and have supper.”
Lennie said, “I like beans with ketchup.”
“Well, we ain’t got no ketchup. You go get wood. An’ don’t you fool around. It’ll be dark before long.”
Lennie lumbered to his feet and disappeared in the brush. George lay where he was and whistled softly to himself. There were sounds of splashings down the river in the direction Lennie had taken. George stopped whistling and listened. “Poor bastard,” he said softly, and then went on whistling again.
In a moment Lennie came crashing back through the brush. He carried one small willow stick in his hand. George sat up. “Awright,” he said brusquely. “Gi’me that mouse!”
But Lennie made an elaborate pantomime of innocence. “What mouse, George? I ain’t got no mouse.”
George held out his hand. “Come on. Give it to me. You ain’t puttin’ nothing over.”
Lennie hesitated, backed away, looked wildly at the brush line as though he contemplated running for his freedom. George said coldly, “You gonna give me that mouse or do I have to sock you?”
“Give you what, George?”
“You know God damn well what. I want that mouse.”
Lennie reluctantly reached into his pocket. His voice broke a little. “I don’t know why I can’t keep it. It ain’t nobody’s mouse. I didn’t steal it. I found it lyin’ right beside the road.”
George’s hand remained outstretched imperiously. Slowly, like a terrier who doesn’t want to bring a ball to its master, Lennie approached, drew back, approached again. George snapped his fingers sharply, and at the sound Lennie laid the mouse in his hand.
“I wasn’t doin’ nothing bad with it, George. Jus’ strokin’ it.”
George stood up and threw the mouse as far as he could into the darkening brush, and then he stepped to the pool and washed his hands. “You crazy fool. Don’t you think I could see your feet was wet where you went acrost the river to get it?” He heard Lennie’s whimpering cry and wheeled about. “Blubberin’ like a baby! Jesus Christ! A big guy like you.” Lennie’s lip quivered and tears started in his eyes. “Aw, Lennie!” George put his hand on Lennie’s shoulder. “I ain’t takin’ it away jus’ for meanness. That mouse ain’t fresh, Lennie; and besides, you’ve broke it pettin’ it. You get another mouse that’s fresh and I’ll let you keep it a little while.”
Lennie sat down on the ground and hung his head dejectedly. “I don’t know where there is no other mouse. I remember a lady used to give ‘em to me — ever’ one she got. But that lady ain’t here.”
George scoffed. “Lady, huh? Don’t even remember who that lady was. That was your own Aunt Clara. An’ she stopped givin’ ‘em to ya. You always killed ‘em.”
Lennie looked sadly up at him. “They was so little,” he said, apologetically. “I’d pet ‘em, and pretty soon they bit my fingers and I pinched their heads a little and then they was dead — because they was so little.
“I wisht we’d get the rabbits pretty soon, George. They ain’t so little.”
“The hell with the rabbits. An’ you ain’t to be trusted with no live mice. Your Aunt Clara give you a rubber mouse and you wouldn’t have nothing to do with it.”
“It wasn’t no good to pet,” said Lennie.
The flame of the sunset lifted from the mountaintops and dusk came into the valley, and a half darkness came in among the willows and the sycamores. A big carp rose to the surface of the pool, gulped air and then sank mysteriously into the dark water again, leaving widening rings on the water. Overhead the leaves whisked again and little puffs of willow cotton blew down and landed on the pool’s surface.
“You gonna get that wood?” George demanded. “There’s plenty right up against the back of that sycamore. Floodwater wood. Now you get it.”
Lennie went behind the tree and brought out a litter of dried leaves and twigs. He threw them in a heap on the old ash pile and went back for more and more. It was almost night now. A dove’s wings whistled over the water. George walked to the fire pile and lighted the dry leaves. The flame cracked up among the twigs and fell to work. George undid his bindle and brought out three cans of beans. He stood them about the fire, close in against the blaze, but not quite touching the flame.
“There’s enough beans for four men,” George said.
Lennie watched him from over the fire. He said patiently, “I like ‘em with ketchup.”
“Well, we ain’t got any,” George exploded. “Whatever we ain’t got, that’s what you want. God a’mighty, if I was alone I could live so easy. I could go get a job an’ work, an’ no trouble. No mess at all, and when the end of the month come I could take my fifty bucks and go into town and get whatever I want. Why, I could stay in a cat house all night. I could eat any place I want, hotel or any place, and order any damn thing I could think of. An’ I could do all that every damn month. Get a gallon of whisky, or set in a pool room and play cards or shoot pool.” Lennie knelt and looked over the fire at the angry George. And Lennie’s face was drawn with terror. “An’ whatta I got,” George went on furiously. “I got you! You can’t keep a job and you lose me ever’ job I get. Jus’ keep me shovin’ all over the country all the time. An’ that ain’t the worst. You get in trouble. You do bad things and I got to get you out.” His voice rose nearly to a shout. “You crazy son-of-a-bitch. You keep me in hot water all the time.” He took on the elaborate manner of little girls when they are mimicking one another. “Jus’ wanted to feel that girl’s dress — jus’ wanted to pet it like it was a mouse — Well, how the hell did she know you jus’ wanted to feel her dress? She jerks back and you hold on like it was a mouse. She yells and we got to hide in a irrigation ditch all day with guys lookin’ for us, and we got to sneak out in the dark and get outa the country. All the time somethin’ like that — all the time. I wisht I could put you in a cage with about a million mice an’ let you have fun.” His anger left him suddenly. He looked across the fire at Lennie’s anguished face, and then he looked ashamedly at the flames.
It was quite dark now, but the fire lighted the trunks of the trees and the curving branches overhead. Lennie crawled slowly and cautiously around the fire until he was close to George. He sat back on his heels. George turned the bean cans so that another side faced the fire. He pretended to be unaware of Lennie so close beside him.
“George,” very softly. No answer. “George!”
“Whatta you want?”
“I was only foolin’, George. I don’t want no ketchup. I wouldn’t eat no ketchup if it was right here beside me.”
“If it was here, you could have some.”
“But I wouldn’t eat none, George. I’d leave it all for you. You could cover your beans with it and I wouldn’t touch none of it.”
George still stared morosely at the fire. “When I think of the swell time I could have without you, I go nuts. I never get no peace.”
Lennie still knelt. He looked off into the darkness across the river. “George, you want I should go away and leave you alone?”
“Where the hell could you go?”
“Well, I could. I could go off in the hills there. Some place I’d find a cave.”
“Yeah? How’d you eat? You ain’t got sense enough to find nothing to eat.”
“I’d find things, George. I don’t need no nice food with ketchup. I’d lay out in the sun and nobody’d hurt me. An’ if I foun’ a mouse, I could keep it. Nobody’d take it away from me.”
George looked quickly and searchingly at him. “I been mean, ain’t I?”
“If you don’ want me I can go off in the hills an’ find a cave. I can go away any time.”
“No — look! I was jus’ foolin’, Lennie. ‘Cause I want you to stay with me. Trouble with mice is you always kill ‘em.” He paused. “Tell you what I’ll do, Lennie. First chance I get I’ll give you a pup. Maybe you wouldn’t kill it . That’d be better than mice. And you could pet it harder.”
Lennie avoided the bait. He had sensed his advantage. “If you don’t want me, you only jus’ got to say so, and I’ll go off in those hills right there — right up in those hills and live by myself. An’ I won’t get no mice stole from me.”
George said, “I want you to stay with me, Lennie. Jesus Christ, somebody’d shoot you for a coyote if you was by yourself. No, you stay with me. Your Aunt Clara wouldn’t like you running off by yourself, even if she is dead.”
Lennie spoke craftily, “Tell me — like you done before.”
“Tell you what?”
“About the rabbits.”
George snapped, “You ain’t gonna put nothing over on me.”
Lennie pleaded, “Come on, George. Tell me. Please, George. Like you done before.”
“You get a kick outa that, don’t you? Awright, I’ll tell you, and then we’ll eat our supper....”
George’s voice became deeper. He repeated his words rhythmically as though he had said them many times before. “Guys like us, that work on ranches, are the loneliest guys in the world. They got no fambly. They don’t belong no place. They come to a ranch an’ work up a stake and then they go into town and blow their stake, and the first thing you know they’re poundin’ their tail on some other ranch. They ain’t got nothing to look ahead to.”
Lennie was delighted. “That’s it — that’s it. Now tell how it is with us.”
George went on. “With us it ain’t like that. We got a future. We got somebody to talk to that gives a damn about us. We don’t have to sit-in no bar room blowin’ in our jack jus’ because we got no place else to go. If them other guys gets in jail they can rot for all anybody gives a damn. But not us.”
Lennie broke in. “ But not us! An’ why? Because.... because I got you to look after me, and you got me to look after you, and that’s why. ” He laughed delightedly. “Go on now, George!”
“You got it by heart. You can do it yourself.”
“No, you. I forget some a’ the things. Tell about how it’s gonna be.”
“O.K. Someday — we’re gonna get the jack together and we’re gonna have a little house and a couple of acres an’ a cow and some pigs and—”
“ An’ live off the fatta the lan’ ,” Lennie shouted. “An’ have rabbits . Go on, George! Tell about what we’re gonna have in the garden and about the rabbits in the cages and about the rain in the winter and the stove, and how thick the cream is on the milk like you can hardly cut it. Tell about that, George.”
“Why’n’t you do it yourself? You know all of it.”
“No.... you tell it. It ain’t the same if I tell it. Go on.... George. How I get to tend the rabbits.”
“Well,” said George, “we’ll have a big vegetable patch and a rabbit hutch and chickens. And when it rains in the winter, we’ll just say the hell with goin’ to work, and we’ll build up a fire in the stove and set around it an’ listen to the rain comin’ down on the roof — Nuts!” He took out his pocket knife. “I ain’t got time for no more.” He drove his knife through the top of one of the bean cans, sawed out the top and passed the can to Lennie. Then he opened a second can. From his side pocket he brought out two spoons and passed one of them to Lennie.
They sat by the fire and filled their mouths with beans and chewed mightily. A few beans slipped out of the side of Lennie’s mouth. George gestured with his spoon. “What you gonna say tomorrow when the boss asks you questions?”
Lennie stopped chewing and swallowed. His face was concentrated. “I.... I ain’t gonna.... say a word.”
“Good boy! That’s fine, Lennie! Maybe you’re gettin’ better. When we get the coupla acres I can let you tend the rabbits all right. ‘Specially if you remember as good as that.”
Lennie choked with pride. “I can remember,” he said.
George motioned with his spoon again. “Look, Lennie. I want you to look around here. You can remember this place, can’t you? The ranch is about a quarter mile up that way. Just follow the river?”
“Sure,” said Lennie. “I can remember this. Di’n’t I remember about not gonna say a word?”
“’Course you did. Well, look. Lennie — if you jus’ happen to get in trouble like you always done before, I want you to come right here an’ hide in the brush.”
“Hide in the brush,” said Lennie slowly.
“Hide in the brush till I come for you. Can you remember that?”
“Sure I can, George. Hide in the brush till you come.”
“But you ain’t gonna get in no trouble, because if you do, I won’t let you tend the rabbits.” He threw his empty bean can off into the brush.
“I won’t get in no trouble, George. I ain’t gonna say a word
“O.K. Bring your bindle over here by the fire. It’s gonna be nice sleepin’ here. Lookin’ up, and the leaves. Don’t build up no more fire. We’ll let her die down.”
They made their beds on the sand, and as the blaze dropped from the fire the sphere of light grew smaller; the curling branches disappeared and only a faint glimmer showed where the tree trunks were. From the darkness Lennie called, “George — you asleep?”
“No. Whatta you want?”
“Let’s have different color rabbits, George.”
“Sure we will,” George said sleepily. “Red and blue and green rabbits, Lennie. Millions of ‘em.”
“Furry ones, George, like I seen in the fair in Sacramento.”
“Sure, furry ones.”
“’Cause I can jus’ as well go away, George, an’ live in a cave.”
“You can jus’ as well go to hell,” said George. “Shut up now.”
The red light dimmed on the coals. Up the hill from the river a coyote yammered, and a dog answered from the other side of the stream.
The sycamore leaves whispered in a little night breeze.
The bunk house was a long, rectangular building. Inside, the walls were whitewashed and the floor unpainted. In three walls there were small, square windows, and in the fourth, a solid door with a wooden latch. Against the walls were eight bunks, five of them made up with blankets and the other three showing their burlap ticking. Over each bunk there was nailed an apple box with the opening forward so that it made two shelves for the personal belongings of the occupant of the bunk. And these shelves were loaded with little articles, soap and talcum powder, razors and those Western magazines ranch men love to read and scoff at and secretly believe. And there were medicines on the shelves, and little vials, combs; and from nails on the box sides, a few neckties. Near one wall there was a black cast-iron stove, its stovepipe going straight up through the ceiling. In the middle of the room stood a big square table littered with playing cards, and around it were grouped boxes for the players to sit on.
At about ten o’clock in the morning the sun threw a bright dust-laden bar through one of the side windows, and in and out of the beam flies shot like rushing stars.
The wooden latch raised. The door opened and a tall, stoop-shouldered old man came in. He was dressed in blue jeans and he carried a big push-broom in his left hand. Behind him came George, and behind George, Lennie.
“The boss was expectin’ you last night,” the old man said. “He was sore as hell when you wasn’t here to go out this morning.” He pointed with his right arm, and out of the sleeve came a round stick-like wrist, but no hand. “You can have them two beds there,” he said, indicating two bunks near the stove.
George stepped over and threw his blankets down on the burlap sack of straw that was a mattress. He looked into his box shelf and then picked a small yellow can from it. “Say. What the hell’s this?”
“I don’t know,” said the old man.
“Says ‘positively kills lice, roaches and other scourges.’ What the hell kind of bed you giving us, anyways. We don’t want no pants rabbits.”
The old swamper shifted his broom and held it between his elbow and his side while he held out his hand for the can. He studied the label carefully. “Tell you what—” he said finally, “last guy that had this bed was a blacksmith — hell of a nice fella and as clean a guy as you want to meet. Used to wash his hands even after he ate.”
“Then how come he got graybacks?” George was working up a slow anger. Lennie put his bindle on the neighboring bunk and sat down. He watched George with open mouth.
“Tell you what,” said the old swamper. “This here blacksmith — name of Whitey — was the kind of guy that would put that stuff around even if there wasn’t no bugs — just to make sure, see? Tell you what he used to do — At meals he’d peel his boil’ potatoes, an’ he’d take out ever’ little spot, no matter what kind, before he’d eat it. And if there was a red splotch on an egg, he’d scrape it off. Finally quit about the food. That’s the kinda guy he was — clean. Used ta dress up Sundays even when he wasn’t going no place, put on a necktie even, and then set in the bunk house.”
“I ain’t so sure,” said George skeptically. “What did you say he quit for?”
The old man put the yellow can in his pocket, and he rubbed his bristly white whiskers with his knuckles. “Why.... he.... just quit, the way a guy will. Says it was the food. Just wanted to move. Didn’t give no other reason but the food. Just says ‘gimme my time’ one night, the way any guy would.”
George lifted his tick and looked underneath it. He leaned over and inspected the sacking closely. Immediately Lennie got up and did the same with his bed. Finally George seemed satisfied. He unrolled his bindle and put things on the shelf, his razor and bar of soap, his comb and bottle of pills, his liniment and leather wristband. Then he made his bed up neatly with blankets. The old man said, “I guess the boss’ll be out here in a minute. He was sure burned when you wasn’t here this morning. Come right in when we was eatin’ breakfast and says, ‘Where the hell’s them new men?’ An’ he give the stable buck hell, too.”
George patted a wrinkle out of his bed, and sat down. “Give the stable buck hell?” he asked.
“Sure. Ya see the stable buck’s a nigger.”
“Nigger, huh?”
“Yeah. Nice fella too. Got a crooked back where a horse kicked him. The boss gives him hell when he’s mad. But the stable buck don’t give a damn about that. He reads a lot. Got books in his room.”
“What kind of a guy is the boss?” George asked.
“Well, he’s a pretty nice fella. Gets pretty mad sometimes, but he’s pretty nice. Tell ya what — know what he done Christmas? Brang a gallon of whisky right in here and says, ‘Drink hearty, boys. Christmas comes but once a year.’”
“The hell he did! Whole gallon?”
“Yes sir. Jesus, we had fun. They let the nigger come in that night. Little skinner name of Smitty took after the nigger. Done pretty good, too. The guys wouldn’t let him use his feet, so the nigger got him. If he coulda used his feet, Smitty says he woulda killed the nigger. The guys said on account of the nigger’s got a crooked back, Smitty can’t use his feet.” He paused in relish of the memory. “After that the guys went into Soledad and raised hell. I didn’t go in there. I ain’t got the poop no more.”
Lennie was just finishing making his bed. The wooden latch raised again and the door opened. A little stocky man stood in the open doorway. He wore blue jean trousers, a flannel shirt, a black, unbuttoned vest and a black coat. His thumbs were stuck in his belt, on each side of a square steel buckle. On his head was a soiled brown Stetson hat, and he wore high-heeled boots and spurs to prove he was not a laboring man.
The old swamper looked quickly at him, and then shuffled to the door rubbing his whiskers with his knuckles as he went. “Them guys just come,” he said, and shuffled past the boss and out the door.
The boss stepped into the room with the short, quick steps of a fat-legged man. “I wrote Murray and Ready I wanted two men this morning. You got your work slips?” George reached into his pocket and produced the slips and handed them to the boss. “It wasn’t Murray and Ready’s fault. Says right here on the slip that you was to be here for work this morning.”
George looked down at his feet. “Bus driver give us a bum steer,” he said. “We hadda walk ten miles. Says we was here when we wasn’t. We couldn’t get no rides in the morning.”
The boss squinted his eyes. “Well, I had to send out the grain teams short two buckers. Won’t do any good to go out now till after dinner.” He pulled his time book out of his pocket and opened it where a pencil was stuck between the leaves. George scowled meaningfully at Lennie, and Lennie nodded to show that he understood. The boss licked his pencil. “What’s your name?”
“George Milton.”
“And what’s yours?”
George said, “His name’s Lennie Small.”
The names were entered in the book. “Le’s see, this is the twentieth, noon the twentieth.” He closed the book. “Where you boys been working?”
“Up around Weed,” said George.
“You, too?” to Lennie.
“Yeah, him too,” said George.
The boss pointed a playful finger at Lennie. “He ain’t much of a talker, is he?”
“No, he ain’t, but he’s sure a hell of a good worker. Strong as a bull.”
Lennie smiled to himself. “Strong as a bull,” he repeated.
George scowled at him, and Lennie dropped his head in shame at having forgotten.
The boss said suddenly, “Listen, Small!” Lennie raised his head. “What can you do?”
In a panic, Lennie looked at George for help. “He can do anything you tell him,” said George. “He’s a good skinner. He can rassel grain bags, drive a cultivator. He can do anything. Just give him a try.”
The boss turned on George. “Then why don’t you let him answer? What you trying to put over?”
George broke in loudly, “Oh! I ain’t saying he’s bright. He ain’t. But I say he’s a God damn good worker. He can put up a four hundred pound bale.”
The boss deliberately put the little book in his pocket. He hooked his thumbs in his belt and squinted one eye nearly closed. “Say — what you sellin’?”
“Huh?”
“I said what stake you got in this guy? You takin’ his pay away from him?”
“No, ‘course I ain’t. Why ya think I’m sellin’ him out?”
“Well, I never seen one guy take so much trouble for another guy. I just like to know what your interest is.”
George said, “He’s my.... cousin. I told his old lady I’d take care of him. He got kicked in the head by a horse when he was a kid. He’s awright. Just ain’t bright. But he can do anything you tell him.”
The boss turned half away. “Well, God knows he don’t need any brains to buck barley bags. But don’t you try to put nothing over, Milton. I got my eye on you. Why’d you quit in Weed?”
“Job was done,” said George promptly.
“What kinda job?”
“We.... we was diggin’ a cesspool.”
“All right. But don’t try to put nothing over, ‘cause you can’t get away with nothing. I seen wise guys before. Go on out with the grain teams after dinner. They’re pickin’ up barley at the threshing machine. Go out with Slim’s team.”
“Slim?”
“Yeah. Big tall skinner. You’ll see him at dinner.” He turned abruptly and went to the door, but before he went out he turned and looked for a long moment at the two men.
When the sound of his footsteps had died away, George turned on Lennie. “So you wasn’t gonna say a word. You was gonna leave your big flapper shut and leave me do the talkin’. Damn near lost us the job.”
Lennie stared hopelessly at his hands. “I forgot, George.”
“Yeah, you forgot. You always forget, an’ I got to talk you out of it.” He sat down heavily on the bunk. “Now he’s got his eye on us. Now we got to be careful and not make no slips. You keep your big flapper shut after this.” He fell morosely silent.
“George.”
“What you want now?”
“I wasn’t kicked in the head with no horse, was I, George?”
“Be a damn good thing if you was,” George said viciously. “Save ever’body a hell of a lot of trouble.”
“You said I was your cousin, George.”
“Well, that was a lie. An’ I’m damn glad it was. If I was a relative of yours I’d shoot myself.” He stopped suddenly, stepped to the open front door and peered out. “Say, what the hell you doin’ listenin’?”
The old man came slowly into the room. He had his broom in his hand. And at his heels there walked a dragfooted sheepdog, gray of muzzle, and with pale, blind old eyes. The dog struggled lamely to the side of the room and lay down, grunting softly to himself and licking his grizzled, moth-eaten coat. The swamper watched him until he was settled. “I wasn’t listenin’. I was jus’ standin’ in the shade a minute scratchin’ my dog. I jus’ now finished swampin’ out the wash house.”
“You was pokin’ your big ears into our business,” George said. “I don’t like nobody to get nosey.”
The old man looked uneasily from George to Lennie, and then back. “I jus’ come there,” he said. “I didn’t hear nothing you guys was sayin’. I ain’t interested in nothing you was sayin’. A guy on a ranch don’t never listen nor he don’t ast no questions.”
“Damn right he don’t,” said George, slightly mollified, “not if he wants to stay workin’ long.” But he was reassured by the swamper’s defense. “Come on in and set down a minute,” he said. “That’s a hell of an old dog.”
“Yeah. I had ‘im ever since he was a pup. God, he was a good sheepdog when he was younger.” He stood his broom against the wall and he rubbed his white bristled cheek with his knuckles. “How’d you like the boss?” he asked.
“Pretty good. Seemed awright.”
“He’s a nice fella,” the swamper agreed. “You got to take him right.”
At that moment a young man came into the bunk house; a thin young man with a brown face, with brown eyes and a head of tightly curled hair. He wore a work glove on his left hand, and, like the boss, he wore high-heeled boots. “Seen my old man?” he asked.
The swamper said, “He was here jus’ a minute ago, Curley. Went over to the cook house, I think.”
“I’ll try to catch him,” said Curley. His eyes passed over the new men and he stopped. He glanced coldly at George and then at Lennie. His arms gradually bent at the elbows and his hands closed into fists. He stiffened and went into a slight crouch. His glance was at once calculating and pugnacious. Lennie squirmed under the look and shifted his feet nervously. Curley stepped gingerly close to him. “You the new guys the old man was waitin’ for?”
“We just come in,” said George.
“Let the big guy talk.”
Lennie twisted with embarrassment.
George said, “S’pose he don’t want to talk?”
Curley lashed his body around. “By Christ, he’s gotta talk when he’s spoke to. What the hell are you gettin’ into it for?”
“We travel together,” said George coldly.
“Oh, so it’s that way.”
George was tense, and motionless. “Yeah, it’s that way.”
Lennie was looking helplessly to George for instruction.
“An’ you won’t let the big guy talk, is that it?”
“He can talk if he wants to tell you anything.” He nodded slightly to Lennie.
“We jus’ come in,” said Lennie softly.
Curley stared levelly at him. “Well, nex’ time you answer when you’re spoke to.” He turned toward the door and walked out, and his elbows were still bent out a little.
George watched him go, and then he turned back to the swamper. “Say, what the hell’s he got on his shoulder? Lennie didn’t do nothing to him.”
The old man looked cautiously at the door to make sure no one was listening. “That’s the boss’s son,” he said quietly. “Curley’s pretty handy. He done quite a bit in the ring. He’s a lightweight, and he’s handy.”
“Well, let him be handy,” said George. “He don’t have to take after Lennie. Lennie didn’t do nothing to him. What’s he got against Lennie?”
The swamper considered.... “Well.... tell you what. Curley’s like alot of little guys. He hates big guys. He’s alla time picking scraps with big guys. Kind of like he’s mad at ‘em because he ain’t a big guy. You seen little guys like that, ain’t you? Always scrappy?”
“Sure,” said George. “I seen plenty tough little guys. But this Curley better not make no mistakes about Lennie. Lennie ain’t handy, but this Curley punk is gonna get hurt if he messes around with Lennie.”
“Well, Curley’s pretty handy,” the swamper said skeptically. “Never did seem right to me. S’pose Curley jumps a big guy an’ licks him. Ever’body says what a game guy Curley is. And s’pose he does the same thing and gets licked. Then ever’body says the big guy oughtta pick somebody his own size, and maybe they gang up on the big guy. Never did seem right to me. Seems like Curley ain’t givin’ nobody a chance.”
George was watching the door. He said ominously, “Well, he better watch out for Lennie. Lennie ain’t no fighter, but Lennie’s strong and quick and Lennie don’t know no rules.” He walked to the square table and sat down on one of the boxes. He gathered some of the cards together and shuffled them.
The old man sat down on another box. “Don’t tell Curley I said none of this. He’d slough me. He just don’t give a damn. Won’t ever get canned ‘cause his old man’s the boss.”
George cut the cards and began turning them over, looking at each one and throwing it down on a pile. He said, “This guy Curley sounds like a son-of-a-bitch to me. I don’t like mean little guys.”
“Seems to me like he’s worse lately,” said the swamper. “He got married a couple of weeks ago. Wife lives over in the boss’s house. Seems like Curley is cockier’n ever since he got married.”
George grunted, “Maybe he’s showin’ off for his wife.”
The swamper warmed to his gossip. “You seen that glove on his left hand?”
“Yeah. I seen it.”
“Well, that glove’s fulla vaseline.”
“Vaseline? What the hell for?”
“Well, I tell ya what — Curley says he’s keepin’ that hand soft for his wife.”
George studied the cards absorbedly. “That’s a dirty thing to tell around,” he said.
The old man was reassured. He had drawn a derogatory statement from George. He felt safe now, and he spoke more confidently. “Wait’ll you see Curley’s wife.”
George cut the cards again and put out a solitaire lay, slowly and deliberately. “Purty?” he asked casually.
“Yeah. Purty.... but—”
George studied his cards. “But what?”
“Well — she got the eye.”
“Yeah? Married two weeks and got the eye? Maybe that’s why Curley’s pants is full of ants.”
“I seen her give Slim the eye. Slim’s a jerkline skinner. Hell of a nice fella. Slim don’t need to wear no high-heeled boots on a grain team. I seen her give Slim the eye. Curley never seen it. An’ I seen her give Carlson the eye.”
George pretended a lack of interest. “Looks like we was gonna have fun.”
The swamper stood up from his box. “Know what I think?” George did not answer. “Well, I think Curley’s married.... a tart.”
“He ain’t the first,” said George. “There’s plenty done that.”
The old man moved toward the door, and his ancient dog lifted his head and peered about, and then got painfully to his feet to follow. “I gotta be settin’ out the wash basins for the guys. The teams’ll be in before long. You guys gonna buck barley?”
“Yeah.”
“You won’t tell Curley nothing I said?”
“Hell no.”
“Well, you look her over, mister. You see if she ain’t a tart.” He stepped out the door into the brilliant sunshine.
George laid down his cards thoughtfully, turned his piles of three. He built four clubs on his ace pile. The sun square was on the floor now, and the flies whipped through it like sparks. A sound of jingling harness and the croak of heavy-laden axles sounded from outside. From the distance came a clear call. “Stable buck — ooh, sta-able buck!” And then, “Where the hell is that God damn nigger?”
George stared at his solitaire lay, and then he flounced the cards together and turned around to Lennie. Lennie was lying down on the bunk watching him.
“Look, Lennie! This here ain’t no setup. I’m scared. You gonna have trouble with that Curley guy. I seen that kind before. He was kinda feelin’ you out. He figures he’s got you scared and he’s gonna take a sock at you the first chance he gets.”
Lennie’s eyes were frightened. “I don’t want no trouble,” he said plaintively. “Don’t let him sock me, George.”
George got up and went over to Lennie’s bunk and sat down on it. “I hate that kinda bastard,” he said. “I seen plenty of ‘em. Like the old guy says, Curley don’t take no chances. He always wins.” He thought for a moment. “If he tangles with you, Lennie, we’re gonna get the can. Don’t make no mistake about that. He’s the boss’s son. Look, Lennie. You try to keep away from him, will you? Don’t never speak to him. If he comes in here you move clear to the other side of the room. Will you do that, Lennie?”
“I don’t want no trouble,” Lennie mourned. “I never done nothing to him.”
“Well, that won’t do you no good if Curley wants to plug himself up for a fighter. Just don’t have nothing to do with him. Will you remember?”
“Sure, George. I ain’t gonna say a word.”
The sound of the approaching grain teams was louder, thud of big hooves on hard ground, drag of brakes and the jingle of trace chains. Men were calling back and forth from the teams. George, sitting on the bunk beside Lennie, frowned as he thought. Lennie asked timidly, “You ain’t mad, George?”
“I ain’t mad at you. I’m mad at this here Curley bastard. I hoped we was gonna get a little stake together — maybe a hundred dollars.” His tone grew decisive. “You keep away from Curley, Lennie.”
“Sure I will, George. I won’t say a word.”
“Don’t let him pull you in — but — if the son-of-a-bitch socks you — let ‘im have it.”
“Let ‘im have what, George?”
“Never mind, never mind. I’ll tell you when. I hate that kind of a guy. Look, Lennie, if you get in any kind of trouble, you remember what I told you to do?”
Lennie raised up on his elbow. His face contorted with thought. Then his eyes moved sadly to George’s face. “If I get in any trouble, you ain’t gonna let me tend the rabbits.”
“That’s not what I meant. You remember where we slep’ last night? Down by the river?”
“Yeah. I remember. Oh, sure I remember! I go there an’ hide in the brush.”
“Hide till I come for you. Don’t let nobody see you. Hide in the brush by the river. Say that over.”
“Hide in the brush by the river, down in the brush by the river.”
“If you get in trouble.”
“If I get in trouble.”
A brake screeched outside. A call came, “Stable — buck. Oh! Sta-able buck.”
George said, “Say it over to yourself, Lennie, so you won’t forget it.”
Both men glanced up, for the rectangle of sunshine in the doorway was cut off. A girl was standing there looking in. She had full, rouged lips and wide-spaced eyes, heavily made up. Her fingernails were red. Her hair hung in little rolled clusters, like sausages. She wore a cotton house dress and red mules, on the insteps of which were little bouquets of red ostrich feathers. “I’m lookin’ for Curley,” she said. Her voice had a nasal, brittle quality.
George looked away from her and then back. “He was in here a minute ago, but he went.”
“Oh!” She put her hands behind her back and leaned against the door frame so that her body was thrown forward. “You’re the new fellas that just come, ain’t ya?”
“Yeah.”
Lennie’s eyes moved down over her body, and though she did not seem to be looking at Lennie she bridled a little. She looked at her fingernails. “Sometimes Curley’s in here,” she explained.
George said brusquely. “Well he ain’t now.”
“If he ain’t, I guess I better look some place else,” she said playfully.
Lennie watched her, fascinated. George said, “If I see him, I’ll pass the word you was looking for him.”
She smiled archly and twitched her body. “Nobody can’t blame a person for lookin’,” she said. There were footsteps behind her, going by. She turned her head. “Hi, Slim,” she said.
Slim’s voice came through the door. “Hi, Good-lookin’.”
“I’m tryin’ to find Curley, Slim.”
“Well, you ain’t tryin’ very hard. I seen him goin’ in your house.”
She was suddenly apprehensive. “’Bye, boys,” she called into the bunk house, and she hurried away.
George looked around at Lennie. “Jesus, what a tramp,” he said. “So that’s what Curley picks for a wife.”
“She’s purty,” said Lennie defensively.
“Yeah, and she’s sure hidin’ it. Curley got his work ahead of him. Bet she’d clear out for twenty bucks.”
Lennie still stared at the doorway where she had been. “Gosh, she was purty.” He smiled admiringly. George looked quickly down at him and then he took him by an ear and shook him.
“Listen to me, you crazy bastard,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you even take a look at that bitch. I don’t care what she says and what she does. I seen ‘em poison before, but I never seen no piece of jail bait worse than her. You leave her be.”
Lennie tried to disengage his ear. “I never done nothing, George.”
“No, you never. But when she was standin’ in the doorway showin’ her legs, you wasn’t lookin’ the other way, neither.”
“I never meant no harm, George. Honest I never.”
“Well, you keep away from her, cause she’s a rattrap if I ever seen one. You let Curley take the rap. He let himself in for it. Glove fulla vaseline,” George said disgustedly. “An’ I bet he’s eatin’ raw eggs and writin’ to the patent medicine houses.”
Lennie cried out suddenly — “I don’t like this place, George. This ain’t no good place. I wanna get outa here.”
“We gotta keep it till we get a stake. We can’t help it, Lennie. We’ll get out jus’ as soon as we can. I don’t like it no better than you do.” He went back to the table and set out a new solitaire hand. “No, I don’t like it,” he said. “For two bits I’d shove out of here. If we can get jus’ a few dollars in the poke we’ll shove off and go up the American River and pan gold. We can make maybe a couple of dollars a day there, and we might hit a pocket.”
Lennie leaned eagerly toward him. “Le’s go, George. Le’s get outa here. It’s mean here.”
“We gotta stay,” George said shortly. “Shut up now. The guys’ll becomin’ in.”
From the washroom nearby came the sound of running water and rattling basins. George studied the cards. “Maybe we oughtta wash up,” he said. “But we ain’t done nothing to get dirty.”
A tall man stood in the doorway. He held a crushed Stetson hat under his arm while he combed his long, black, damp hair straight back. Like the others he wore blue jeans and a short denim jacket. When he had finished combing his hair he moved into the room, and he moved with a majesty achieved only by royalty and master craftsmen. He was a jerkline skinner, the prince of the ranch, capable of driving ten, sixteen, even twenty mules with a single line to the leaders. He was capable of killing a fly on the wheeler’s butt with a bull whip without touching the mule. There was a gravity in his manner and a quiet so profound that all talk stopped when he spoke. His authority was so great that his word was taken on any subject, be it politics or love. This was Slim, the jerkline skinner. His hatchet face was ageless. He might have been thirty-five or fifty. His ear heard more than was said to him, and his slow speech had overtones not of thought, but of understanding beyond thought. His hands, large and lean, were as delicate in their action as those of a temple dancer.
He smoothed out his crushed hat, creased it in the middle and put it on. He looked kindly at the two in the bunk house. “It’s brighter’n a bitch outside,” he said gently. “Can’t hardly see nothing in here. You the new guys?”
“Just come,” said George.
“Gonna buck barley?”
“That’s what the boss says.”
Slim sat down on a box across the table from George. He studied the solitaire hand that was upside down to him. “Hope you get on my team,” he said. His voice was very gentle. “I gotta pair of punks on my team that don’t know a barley bag from a blue ball. You guys ever bucked any barley?”
“Hell, yes,” said George. “I ain’t nothing to scream about, but that big bastard there can put up more grain alone than most pairs can.”
Lennie, who had been following the conversation back and forth with his eyes, smiled complacently at the compliment. Slim looked approvingly at George for having given the compliment. He leaned over the table and snapped the corner of a loose card. “You guys travel around together?” His tone was friendly. It invited confidence without demanding it.
“Sure,” said George. “We kinda look after each other.” He indicated Lennie with his thumb. “He ain’t bright. Hell of a good worker, though. Hell of a nice fella, but he ain’t bright. I’ve knew him for a long time.”
Slim looked through George and beyond him. “Ain’t many guys travel around together,” he mused. “I don’t know why. Maybe ever’body in the whole damn world is scared of each other.”
“It’s a lot nicer to go around with a guy you know,” said George.
A powerful, big-stomached man came into the bunk house. His head still dripped water from the scrubbing and dousing. “Hi, Slim,” he said, and then stopped and stared at George and Lennie.
“These guys jus’ come,” said Slim by way of introduction.
“Glad ta meet ya,” the big man said. “My name’s Carlson.”
“I’m George Milton. This here’s Lennie Small.”
“Glad ta meet ya,” Carlson said again. “He ain’t very small.” He chuckled softly at his joke. “Ain’t small at all,” he repeated. “Meant to ask you, Slim — how’s your bitch? I seen she wasn’t under your wagon this morning.”
“She slang her pups last night,” said Slim. “Nine of ‘em. I drowned four of ‘em right off. She couldn’t feed that many.”
“Got five left, huh?”
“Yeah, five. I kept the biggest.”
“What kinda dogs you think they’re gonna be?”
“I dunno,” said Slim. “Some kinda shepherds, I guess. That’s the most kind I seen around here when she was in heat.”
Carlson went on, “Got five pups, huh. Gonna keep all of ‘em?”
“I dunno. Have to keep ‘em a while so they can drink Lulu’s milk.”
Carlson said thoughtfully, “Well, looka here, Slim. I been thinkin’. That dog of Candy’s is so God damn old he can’t hardly walk. Stinks like hell, too. Ever’ time he comes into the bunk house I can smell him for two, three days. Why’n’t you get Candy to shoot his old dog and give him one of the pups to raise up? I can smell that dog a mile away. Got no teeth, damn near blind, can’t eat. Candy feeds him milk. He can’t chew nothing else.”
George had been staring intently at Slim. Suddenly a triangle began to ring outside, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until the beat of it disappeared into one ringing sound. It stopped as suddenly as it had started.
“There she goes,” said Carlson.
Outside, there was a burst of voices as a group of men went by.
Slim stood up slowly and with dignity. “You guys better come on while they’s still something to eat. Won’t be nothing left in a couple of minutes.”
Carlson stepped back to let Slim precede him, and then the two of them went out the door.
Lennie was watching George excitedly. George rumpled his cards into a messy pile. “Yeah!” George said, “I heard him, Lennie. I’ll ask him.”
“A brown and white one,” Lennie cried excitedly.
“Come on. Le’s get dinner. I don’t know whether he got a brown and white one.”
Lennie didn’t move from his bunk. “You ask him right away, George, so he won’t kill no more of ‘em.”
“Sure. Come on now, get up on your feet.”
Lennie rolled off his bunk and stood up, and the two of them started for the door. Just as they reached it, Curley bounced in.
“You seen a girl around here?” he demanded angrily.
George said coldly. “’Bout half an hour ago maybe.”
“Well what the hell was she doin’?”
George stood still, watching the angry little man. He said insultingly, “She said — she was lookin’ for you.”
Curley seemed really to see George for the first time. His eyes flashed over George, took in his height, measured his reach, looked at his trim middle. “Well, which way’d she go?” he demanded at last.
“I dunno,” said George. “I didn’ watch her go.”
Curley scowled at him, and turning, hurried out the door.
George said, “Ya know, Lennie, I’m scared I’m gonna tangle with that bastard myself. I hate his guts. Jesus Christ! Come on. They won’t be a damn thing left to eat.”
They went out the door. The sunshine lay in a thin line under the window. From a distance there could be heard a rattle of dishes.
After a moment the ancient dog walked lamely in through the open door. He gazed about with mild, half-blind eyes. He sniffed, and then lay down and put his head between his paws. Curley popped into the doorway again and stood looking into the room. The dog raised his head, but when Curley jerked out, the grizzled head sank to the floor again.
Although there was evening brightness showing through the windows of the bunk house, inside it was dusk. Through the open door came the thuds and occasional clangs of a horseshoe game, and now and then the sound of voices raised in approval or derision.
Slim and George came into the darkening bunk house together. Slim reached up over the card table and turned on the tin-shaded electric light. Instantly the table was brilliant with light, and the cone of the shade threw its brightness straight downward, leaving the corners of the bunk house still in dusk. Slim sat down on a box and George took his place opposite.
“It wasn’t nothing,” said Slim. “I would of had to drowned most of ‘em anyways. No need to thank me about that.”
George said, “It wasn’t much to you, maybe, but it was a hell of alot to him. Jesus Christ, I don’t know how we’re gonna get him to sleep in here. He’ll want to sleep right out in the barn with ‘em. We’ll have trouble keepin’ him from getting right in the box with them pups.”
“It wasn’t nothing,” Slim repeated. “Say, you sure was right about him. Maybe he ain’t bright, but I never seen such a worker. He damn near killed his partner buckin’ barley. There ain’t nobody can keep up with him. God awmighty, I never seen such a strong guy.”
George spoke proudly. “Jus’ tell Lennie what to do an’ he’ll do it if it don’t take no figuring. He can’t think of nothing to do himself, but he sure can take orders.”
There was a clang of horseshoe on iron stake outside and a little cheer of voices.
Slim moved back slightly so the light was not on his face. “Funny how you an’ him string along together.” It was Slim’s calm invitation to confidence.
“What’s funny about it?” George demanded defensively.
“Oh, I dunno. Hardly none of the guys ever travel together. I hardly never seen two guys travel together. You know how the hands are, they just come in and get their bunk and work a month, and then they quit and go out alone. Never seem to give a damn about nobody. It jus’ seems kinda funny a cuckoo like him and a smart little guy like you travelin’ together.”
“He ain’t no cuckoo,” said George. “He’s dumb as hell, but he ain’t crazy. An’ I ain’t so bright neither, or I wouldn’t be buckin’ barley for my fifty and found. If I was bright, if I was even a little bit smart, I’d have my own little place, an’ I’d be bringin’ in my own crops, ‘stead of doin’ all the work and not getting what comes up outa the ground.” George fell silent. He wanted to talk. Slim neither encouraged nor discouraged him. He just sat back quiet and receptive.
“It ain’t so funny, him an’ me goin’ aroun’ together,” George said at last. “Him and me was both born in Auburn. I knowed his Aunt Clara. She took him when he was a baby and raised him up. When his Aunt Clara died, Lennie just come along with me out workin’. Got kinda used to each other after a little while.”
“Umm,” said Slim.
George looked over at Slim and saw the calm, Godlike eyes fastened on him. “Funny,” said George. “I used to have a hell of a lot of fun with ‘im. Used to play jokes on ‘im ‘cause he was too dumb to take care of ‘imself. But he was too dumb even to know he had a joke played on him. I had fun. Made me seem God damn smart alongside of him. Why he’d do any damn thing I tol’ him. If I tol’ him to walk over a cliff, over he’d go. That wasn’t so damn much fun after a while. He never got mad about it, neither. I’ve beat the hell outa him, and he coulda bust every bone in my body jus’ with his han’s, but he never lifted a finger against me.” George’s voice was taking on the tone of confession. “Tell you what made me stop that. One day a bunch of guys was standin’ around up on the Sacramento River. I was feelin’ pretty smart. I turns to Lennie and says, ‘Jump in.’ An’ he jumps. Couldn’t swim a stroke. He damn near drowned before we could get him. An’ he was so damn nice to me for pullin’ him out. Clean forgot I told him to jump in. Well, I ain’t done nothing like that no more.”
“He’s a nice fella,” said Slim. “Guy don’t need no sense to be a nice fella. Seems to me sometimes it jus’ works the other way around. Take a real smart guy and he ain’t hardly ever a nice fella.”
George stacked the scattered cards and began to lay out his solitaire hand. The shoes thudded on the ground outside. At the windows the light of the evening still made the window squares bright.
“I ain’t got no people,” George said. “I seen the guys that go around on the ranches alone. That ain’t no good. They don’t have no fun. After a long time they get mean. They get wantin’ to fight all the time.”
“Yeah, they get mean,” Slim agreed. “They get so they don’t want to talk to nobody.”
“’Course Lennie’s a God damn nuisance most of the time,” said George. “But you get used to goin’ around with a guy an’ you can’t get rid of him.”
“He ain’t mean,” said Slim. “I can see Lennie ain’t a bit mean.”
“’Course he ain’t mean. But he gets in trouble alla time because he’s so God damn dumb. Like what happened in Weed—” He stopped, stopped in the middle of turning over a card. He looked alarmed and peered over at Slim. “You wouldn’t tell nobody?”
“What’d he do in Weed?” Slim asked calmly.
“You wouldn’ tell?.... No, ‘course you wouldn’.”
“What’d he do in Weed?” Slim asked again.
“Well, he seen this girl in a red dress. Dumb bastard like he is, he wants to touch ever’thing he likes. Just wants to feel it. So he reaches out to feel this red dress an’ the girl lets out a squawk, and that gets Lennie all mixed up, and he holds on ‘cause that’s the only thing he can think to do. Well, this girl squawks and squawks. I was jus’ a little bit off, and I heard all the yellin’, so I comes running, an’ by that time Lennie’s so scared all he can think to do is jus’ hold on. I socked him over the head with a fence picket to make him let go. He was so scairt he couldn’t let go of that dress. And he’s so God damn strong, you know.”
Slim’s eyes were level and unwinking. He nodded very slowly. “So what happens?”
George carefully built his line of solitaire cards. “Well, that girl rabbits in an’ tells the law she been raped. The guys in Weed start a party out to lynch Lennie. So we sit in a irrigation ditch under water all the rest of that day. Got on’y our heads sticking outa water, an’ up under the grass that sticks out from the side of the ditch. An’ that night we scrammed outa there.”
Slim sat in silence for a moment. “Didn’t hurt the girl none, huh?” he asked finally.
“Hell, no. He just scared her. I’d be scared too if he grabbed me. But he never hurt her. He jus’ wanted to touch that red dress, like he wants to pet them pups all the time.”
“He ain’t mean,” said Slim. “I can tell a mean guy a mile off.”
“’Course he ain’t, and he’ll do any damn thing I—”
Lennie came in through the door. He wore his blue denim coat over his shoulders like a cape, and he walked hunched way over.
“Hi, Lennie,” said George. “How you like the pup now?”
Lennie said breathlessly, “He’s brown an’ white jus’ like I wanted.” He went directly to his bunk and lay down and turned his face to the wall and drew up his knees.
George put down his cards very deliberately. “Lennie,” he said sharply.
Lennie twisted his neck and looked over his shoulder. “Huh? What you want, George?”
“I tol’ you you couldn’t bring that pup in here.”
“What pup, George? I ain’t got no pup.”
George went quickly to him, grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him over. He reached down and picked the tiny puppy from where Lennie had been concealing it against his stomach.
Lennie sat up quickly. “Give ‘um to me, George.”
George said, “You get right up an’ take this pup back to the nest. He’s gotta sleep with his mother. You want to kill him? Just born last night an’ you take him out of the nest. You take him back or I’ll tell Slim not to let you have him.”
Lennie held out his hands pleadingly. “Give ‘um to me, George. I’ll take ‘um back. I didn’t mean no harm, George. Honest I didn’t. I jus’ wanted to pet ‘um a little.”
George handed the pup to him. “Awright. You get him back there quick, and don’t you take him out no more. You’ll kill him, the first thing you know.” Lennie fairly scuttled out of the room.
Slim had not moved. His calm eyes followed Lennie out the door. “Jesus,” he said. “He’s jus’ like a kid, ain’t he?”
“Sure he’s jes’ like a kid. There ain’t no more harm in him than a kid neither, except he’s so strong. I bet he won’t come in here to sleep tonight. He’d sleep right alongside that box in the barn. Well — let ‘im. He ain’t doin’ no harm out there.”
It was almost dark outside now. Old Candy, the swamper, came in and went to his bunk, and behind him struggled his old dog. “Hello, Slim. Hello, George. Didn’t neither of you play horseshoes?”
“I don’t like to play ever’ night,” said Slim.
Candy went on, “Either you guys got a slug of whisky? I gotta gut ache.”
“I ain’t,” said Slim. “I’d drink it myself if I had, an’ I ain’t got a gut ache neither.”
“Gotta bad gut ache,” said Candy. “Them God damn turnips give it to me. I knowed they was going to before I ever eat ‘em.”
The thick-bodied Carlson came in out of the darkening yard. He walked to the other end of the bunk house and turned on the second shaded light. “Darker’n hell in here,” he said. “Jesus, how that nigger can pitch shoes.”
“He’s plenty good,” said Slim.
“Damn right he is,” said Carlson. “He don’t give nobody else a chance to win—” He stopped and sniffed the air, and still sniffing, looked down at the old dog. “God awmighty, that dog stinks. Get him outa here, Candy! I don’t know nothing that stinks as bad as an old dog. You gotta get him out.”
Candy rolled to the edge of his bunk. He reached over and patted the ancient dog, and he apologized, “I been around him so much I never notice how he stinks.”
“Well, I can’t stand him in here,” said Carlson. “That stink hangs around even after he’s gone.” He walked over with his heavy-legged stride and looked down at the dog. “Got no teeth,” he said. “He’s all stiff with rheumatism. He ain’t no good to you, Candy. An’ he ain’t no good to himself. Why’n’t you shoot him, Candy?”
The old man squirmed uncomfortably. “Well — hell! I had him so long. Had him since he was a pup. I herded sheep with him.” He said proudly, “You wouldn’t think it to look at him now, but he was the best damn sheep dog I ever seen.”
George said, “I seen a guy in Weed that had an Airedale could herd sheep. Learned it from the other dogs.”
Carlson was not to be put off. “Look, Candy. This ol’ dog jus’ suffers hisself all the time. If you was to take him out and shoot him right in the back of the head—” he leaned over and pointed, “—right there, why he’d never know what hit him.”
Candy looked about unhappily. “No,” he said softly. “No, I couldn’t do that. I had ‘im too long.”
“He don’t have no fun,” Carlson insisted. “And he stinks to beat hell. Tell you what. I’ll shoot him for you. Then it won’t be you that does it.”
Candy threw his legs off his bunk. He scratched the white stubble whiskers on his cheek nervously. “I’m so used to him,” he said softly. “I had him from a pup.”
“Well, you ain’t bein’ kind to him keepin’ him alive,” said Carlson. “Look, Slim’s bitch got a litter right now. I bet Slim would give you one of them pups to raise up, wouldn’t you, Slim?”
The skinner had been studying the old dog with his calm eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “You can have a pup if you want to.” He seemed to shake himself free for speech. “Carl’s right, Candy. That dog ain’t no good to himself. I wisht somebody’d shoot me if I get old an’ a cripple.”
Candy looked helplessly at him, for Slim’s opinions were law. “Maybe it’d hurt him,” he suggested. “I don’t mind takin’ care of him.”
Carlson said, “The way I’d shoot him, he wouldn’t feel nothing. I’d put the gun right there.” He pointed with his toe. “Right back of the head. He wouldn’t even quiver.”
Candy looked for help from face to face. It was quite dark outside by now. A young laboring man came in. His sloping shoulders were bent forward and he walked heavily on his heels, as though he carried the invisible grain bag. He went to his bunk and put his hat on his shelf. Then he picked a pulp magazine from his shelf and brought it to the light over the table. “Did I show you this, Slim?” he asked.
“Show me what?”
The young man turned to the back of the magazine, put it down on the table and pointed with his finger. “Right there, read that.” Slim bent over it. “Go on,” said the young man. “Read it out loud.”
“’Dear Editor,’” Slim read slowly. “’I read your mag for six years and I think it is the best on the market. I like stories by Peter Rand. I think he is a whing-ding. Give us more like the Dark Rider. I don’t write many letters. Just thought I would tell you I think your mag is the best dime’s worth I ever spent.’”
Slim looked up questioningly. “What you want me to read that for?”
Whit said, “Go on. Read the name at the bottom.”
Slim read, “’Yours for success, William Tenner.’” He glanced up at Whit again. “What you want me to read that for?”
Whit closed the magazine impressively. “Don’t you remember Bill Tenner? Worked here about three months ago?”
Slim thought..... “Little guy?” he asked. “Drove a cultivator?”
“That’s him,” Whit cried. “That’s the guy!”
“You think he’s the guy wrote this letter?”
“I know it. Bill and me was in here one day. Bill had one of them books that just come. He was lookin’ in it and he says, ‘I wrote a letter. Wonder if they put it in the book!’ But it wasn’t there. Bill says, ‘Maybe they’re savin’ it for later.’ An’ that’s just what they done. There it is.”
“Guess you’re right,” said Slim. “Got it right in the book.”
George held out his hand for the magazine. “Let’s look at it?”
Whit found the place again, but he did not surrender his hold on it. He pointed out the letter with his forefinger. And then he went to his box shelf and laid the magazine carefully in. “I wonder if Bill seen it,” he said. “Bill and me worked in that patch of field peas. Run cultivators, both of us. Bill was a hell of a nice fella.”
During the conversation Carlson had refused to be drawn in. He continued to look down at the old dog. Candy watched him uneasily. At last Carlson said, “If you want me to, I’ll put the old devil out of his misery right now and get it over with. Ain’t nothing left for him. Can’t eat, can’t see, can’t even walk without hurtin’.”
Candy said hopefully, “You ain’t got no gun.”
“The hell I ain’t. Got a Luger. It won’t hurt him none at all.”
Candy said, “Maybe tomorra. Le’s wait till tomorra.”
“I don’t see no reason for it,” said Carlson. He went to his bunk, pulled his bag from underneath it and took out a Luger pistol. “Le’s get it over with,” he said. “We can’t sleep with him stinkin’ around in here.” He put the pistol in his hip pocket.
Candy looked a long time at Slim to try to find some reversal. And Slim gave him none. At last Candy said softly and hopelessly, “Awright — take ‘im.” He did not look down at the dog at all. He lay back on his bunk and crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling.
From his pocket Carlson took a little leather thong. He stooped over and tied it around the old dog’s neck. All the men except Candy watched him. “Come boy. Come on, boy,” he said gently. And he said apologetically to Candy, “He won’t even feel it.” Candy did not move nor answer him. He twitched the thong. “Come on, boy.” The old dog got slowly and stiffly to his feet and followed the gently pulling leash.
Slim said, “Carlson.”
“Yeah?”
“You know what to do.”
“What ya mean, Slim?”
“Take a shovel,” said Slim shortly.
“Oh, sure! I get you.” He led the dog out into the darkness.
George followed to the door and shut the door and set the latch gently in its place. Candy lay rigidly on his bed staring at the ceiling.
Slim said loudly, “One of my lead mules got a bad hoof. Got to get some tar on it.” His voice trailed off. It was silent outside. Carlson’s footsteps died away. The silence came into the room. And the silence lasted.
George chuckled, “I bet Lennie’s right out there in the barn with his pup. He won’t want to come in here no more now he’s got a pup.”
Slim said, “Candy, you can have any one of them pups you want.”
Candy did not answer. The silence fell on the room again. It came out of the night and invaded the room. George said, “Anybody like to play a little euchre?”
“I’ll play out a few with you,” said Whit.
They took places opposite each other at the table under the light, but George did not shuffle the cards. He rippled the edge of the deck nervously, and the little snapping noise drew the eyes of all the men in the room, so that he stopped doing it. The silence fell on the room again. A minute passed, and another minute. Candy lay still, staring at the ceiling. Slim gazed at him for a moment and then looked down at his hands; he subdued one hand with the other, and held it down. There came a little gnawing sound from under the floor and all the men looked down toward it gratefully. Only Candy continued to stare at the ceiling.
“Sounds like there was a rat under there,” said George. “We ought to get a trap down there.”
Whit broke out, “What the hell’s takin’ him so long? Lay out some cards, why don’t you? We ain’t going to get no euchre played this way.”
George brought the cards together tightly and studied the backs of them. The silence was in the room again.
A shot sounded in the distance. The men looked quickly at the old man. Every head turned toward him.
For a moment he continued to stare at the ceiling. Then he rolled slowly over and faced the wall and lay silent.
George shuffled the cards noisily and dealt them. Whit drew a scoring board to him and set the pegs to start. Whit said, “I guess you guys really come here to work.”
“How do ya mean?” George asked.
Whit laughed. “Well, ya come on a Friday. You got two days to work till Sunday.”
“I don’t see how you figure,” said George.
Whit laughed again. “You do if you been around these big ranches much. Guy that wants to look over a ranch comes in Sat’day afternoon. He gets Sat’day night supper an’ three meals on Sunday, and he can quit Monday mornin’ after breakfast without turning his hand. But you come to work Friday noon. You got to put in a day an’ a half no matter how you figure.”
George looked at him levelly. “We’re gonna stick aroun’ a while,” he said. “Me an’ Lennie’s gonna roll up a stake.”
The door opened quietly and the stable buck put in his head; a lean negro head, lined with pain, the eyes patient. “Mr. Slim.”
Slim took his eyes from old Candy. “Huh? Oh! Hello, Crooks. What’s’ a matter?”
“You told me to warm up tar for that mule’s foot. I got it warm.”
“Oh! Sure, Crooks. I’ll come right out an’ put it on.”
“I can do it if you want, Mr. Slim.”
“No. I’ll come do it myself.” He stood up.
Crooks said, “Mr. Slim.”
“Yeah.”
“That big new guy’s messin’ around your pups out in the barn.”
“Well, he ain’t doin’ no harm. I give him one of them pups.”
“Just thought I’d tell ya,” said Crooks. “He’s takin’ ‘em outa the nest and handlin’ them. That won’t do them no good.”
“He won’t hurt ‘em,” said Slim. “I’ll come along with you now.”
George looked up. “If that crazy bastard’s foolin’ around too much, jus’ kick him out, Slim.”
Slim followed the stable buck out of the room.
George dealt and Whit picked up his cards and examined them. “Seen the new kid yet?” he asked.
“What kid?” George asked.
“Why, Curley’s new wife.”
“Yeah, I seen her.”
“Well, ain’t she a looloo?”
“I ain’t seen that much of her,” said George.
Whit laid down his cards impressively. “Well, stick around an’ keep your eyes open. You’ll see plenty. She ain’t concealin’ nothing. I never seen nobody like her. She got the eye goin’ all the time on everybody. I bet she even gives the stable buck the eye. I don’t know what the hell she wants.”
George asked casually, “Been any trouble since she got here?”
It was obvious that Whit was not interested in his cards. He laid his hand down and George scooped it in. George laid out his deliberate solitaire hand — seven cards, and six on top, and five on top of those.
Whit said, “I see what you mean. No, they ain’t been nothing yet. Curley’s got yella-jackets in his drawers, but that’s all so far. Ever’ time the guys is around she shows up. She’s lookin’ for Curley, or she thought she lef’ somethin’ layin’ around and she’s lookin’ for it. Seems like she can’t keep away from guys. An’ Curley’s pants is just crawlin’ with ants, but they ain’t nothing come of it yet.”
George said, “She’s gonna make a mess. They’s gonna be a bad mess about her. She’s a jail bait all set on the trigger. That Curley got his work cut out for him. Ranch with a bunch of guys on it ain’t no place for a girl, specially like her.”
Whit said, “If you got idears, you oughtta come in town with us guys tomorra night.”
“Why? What’s doin’?”
“Jus’ the usual thing. We go in to old Susy’s place. Hell of a nice place. Old Susy’s a laugh — always crackin’ jokes. Like she says when we come up on the front porch las’ Sat’day night. Susy opens the door and then she yells over her shoulder, ‘Get yor coats on, girls, here comes the sheriff.’ She never talks dirty, neither. Got five girls there.”
“What’s it set you back?” George asked.
“Two an’ a half. You can get a shot for two bits. Susy got nice chairs to set in, too. If a guy don’t want a flop, why he can just set in the chairs and have a couple or three shots and pass the time of day and Susy don’t give a damn. She ain’t rushin’ guys through and kickin’ ‘em out if they don’t want a flop.”
“Might go in and look the joint over,” said George.
“Sure. Come along. It’s a hell of a lot of fun — her crackin’ jokes all the time. Like she says one time, she says, ‘I’ve knew people that if they got a rag rug on the floor an’ a kewpie doll lamp on the phonograph they think they’re running a parlor house.’ That’s Clara’s house she’s talkin’ about. An’ Susy says, ‘I know what you boys want,’ she says. ‘My girls is clean,’ she says, ‘an’ there ain’t no water in my whisky,’ she says. ‘If any you guys wanta look at a kewpie doll lamp an’ take your own chance gettin’ burned, why you know where to go.’ An’ she says, ‘There’s guys around here walkin’ bow-legged ‘cause they like to look at a kewpie doll lamp.’”
George asked, “Clara runs the other house, huh?”
“Yeah,” said Whit. “We don’t never go there. Clara gets three bucks a crack and thirty-five cents a shot, and she don’t crack no jokes. But Susy’s place is clean and she got nice chairs. Don’t let no goo-goos in, neither.”
“Me an’ Lennie’s rollin’ up a stake,” said George. “I might go in an’ set and have a shot, but I ain’t puttin’ out no two and a half.”
“Well, a guy got to have some fun sometime,” said Whit.
The door opened and Lennie and Carlson came in together. Lennie crept to his bunk and sat down, trying not to attract attention. Carlson reached under his bunk and brought out his bag. He didn’t look at old Candy, who still faced the wall. Carlson found a little cleaning rod in the bag and a can of oil. He laid them on his bed and then brought out the pistol, took out the magazine and snapped the loaded shell from the chamber. Then he fell to cleaning the barrel with the little rod. When the ejector snapped, Candy turned over and looked for a moment at the gun before he turned back to the wall again.
Carlson said casually, “Curley been in yet?”
“No,” said Whit. “What’s eatin’ on Curley?”
Carlson squinted down the barrel of his gun. “Lookin’ for his old lady. I seen him going round and round outside.”
Whit said sarcastically, “He spends half his time lookin’ for her, and the rest of the time she’s lookin’ for him.”
Curley burst into the room excitedly. “Any you guys seen my wife?” he demanded.
“She ain’t been here,” said Whit.
Curley looked threateningly about the room. “Where the hell’s Slim?”
“Went out in the barn,” said George. “He was gonna put some tar on a split hoof.”
Curley’s shoulders dropped and squared. “How long ago’d he go?”
“Five — ten minutes.”
Curley jumped out the door and banged it after him.
Whit stood up. “I guess maybe I’d like to see this,” he said. “Curley’s just spoilin’ or he wouldn’t start for Slim. An’ Curley’s handy, God damn handy. Got in the finals for the Golden Gloves. He got newspaper clippings about it.” He considered. “But jus’ the same, he better leave Slim alone. Nobody don’t know what Slim can do.”
“Thinks Slim’s with his wife, don’t he?” said George.
“Looks like it,” Whit said. “’Course Slim ain’t. Least I don’t think Slim is. But I like to see the fuss if it comes off. Come on, le’s go.”
George said, “I’m stayin’ right here. I don’t want to get mixed up in nothing. Lennie and me got to make a stake.”
Carlson finished the cleaning of the gun and put it in the bag and pushed the bag under his bunk. “I guess I’ll go out and look her over,” he said. Old Candy lay still, and Lennie, from his bunk, watched George cautiously.
When Whit and Carlson were gone and the door closed after them, George turned to Lennie. “What you got on your mind?”
“I ain’t done nothing, George. Slim says I better not pet them pups so much for a while. Slim says it ain’t good for them; so I come right in. I been good, George.”
“I coulda told you that,” said George.
“Well, I wasn’t hurtin’ ‘em none. I jus’ had mine in my lap pettin’ it.”
George asked, “Did you see Slim out in the barn?”
“Sure I did. He tol’ me I better not pet that pup no more.”
“Did you see that girl?”
“You mean Curley’s girl?”
“Yeah. Did she come in the barn?”
“No. Anyways I never seen her.”
“You never seen Slim talkin’ to her?”
“Uh-uh. She ain’t been in the barn.”
“O.K.,” said George. “I guess them guys ain’t gonna see no fight. If there’s any fightin’, Lennie, you keep out of it.”
“I don’t want no fights,” said Lennie. He got up from his bunk and sat down at the table, across from George. Almost automatically George shuffled the cards and laid out his solitaire hand. He used a deliberate, thoughtful slowness.
Lennie reached for a face card and studied it, then turned it upside down and studied it. “Both ends the same,” he said. “George, why is it both ends the same?”
“I don’t know,” said George. “That’s jus’ the way they make ‘em. What was Slim doin’ in the barn when you seen him?”
“Slim?”
“Sure. You seen him in the barn, an’ he tol’ you not to pet the pups so much.”
“Oh, yeah. He had a can a’ tar an’ a paint brush. I don’t know what for.”
“You sure that girl didn’t come in like she come in here today?”
“No. She never come.”
George sighed. “You give me a good whore house every time,” he said. “A guy can go in an’ get drunk and get ever’thing outa his system all at once, an’ no messes. And he knows how much it’s gonna set him back. These here jail baits is just set on the trigger of the hoosegow.”
Lennie followed his words admiringly, and moved his lips a little to keep up. George continued, “You remember Andy Cushman, Lennie? Went to grammar school?”
“The one that his old lady used to make hot cakes for the kids?” Lennie asked.
“Yeah. That’s the one. You can remember anything if there’s anything to eat in it.” George looked carefully at the solitaire hand. He put an ace up on his scoring rack and piled a two, three and four of diamonds on it. “Andy’s in San Quentin right now on account of a tart,” said George.
Lennie drummed on the table with his fingers. “George?”
“Huh?”
“George, how long’s it gonna be till we get that little place an’ live on the fatta the lan’ — an’ rabbits?”
“I don’t know”, said George. “We gotta get a big stake together. I know a little place we can get cheap, but they ain’t givin’ it away.”
Old Candy turned slowly over. His eyes were wide open. He watched George carefully.
Lennie said, “Tell about that place, George.”
“I jus’ tol’ you, jus’ las’ night.”
“Go on — tell again, George.”
“Well, it’s ten acres,” said George. “Got a little win’mill. Got a little shack on it, an’ a chicken run. Got a kitchen, orchard, cherries, apples, peaches, ‘cots, nuts, got a few berries. They’s a place for alfalfa and plenty water to flood it. They’s a pig pen—”
“An’ rabbits, George.”
“No place for rabbits now, but I could easy build a few hutches and you could feed alfalfa to the rabbits.”
“Damn right, I could,” said Lennie. “You God damn right I could.”
George’s hands stopped working with the cards. His voice was growing warmer. “An’ we could have a few pigs. I could build a smoke house like the one gran’pa had, an’ when we kill a pig we can smoke the bacon and the hams, and make sausage an’ all like that. An’ when the salmon run up river we could catch a hundred of ‘em an’ salt ‘em down or smoke ‘em. We could have them for breakfast. They ain’t nothing so nice as smoked salmon. When the fruit come in we could can it — and tomatoes, they’re easy to can. Ever’ Sunday we’d kill a chicken or a rabbit. Maybe we’d have a cow or a goat, and the cream is so God damn thick you got to cut it with a knife and take it out with a spoon.”
Lennie watched him with wide eyes, and old Candy watched him too. Lennie said softly, “We could live offa the fatta the lan’.”
“Sure,” said George. “All kin’s a vegetables in the garden, and if we want a little whisky we can sell a few eggs or something, or some milk. We’d jus’ live there. We’d belong there. There wouldn’t be no more runnin’ round the country and gettin’ fed by a Jap cook. No, sir, we’d have our own place where we belonged and not sleep in no bunk house.”
“Tell about the house, George,” Lennie begged.
“Sure, we’d have a little house an’ a room to ourself. Little fat iron stove, an’ in the winter we’d keep a fire goin’ in it. It ain’t enough land so we’d have to work too hard. Maybe six, seven hours a day. We wouldn’t have to buck no barley eleven hours a day. An’ when we put in a crop, why, we’d be there to take the crop up. We’d know what come of our planting.”
“An’ rabbits,” Lennie said eagerly. “An’ I’d take care of ‘em. Tell how I’d do that, George.”
“Sure, you’d go out in the alfalfa patch an’ you’d have a sack. You’d fill up the sack and bring it in an’ put it in the rabbit cages.”
“They’d nibble an’ they’d nibble,” said Lennie, “the way they do. I seen ‘em.”
“Ever’ six weeks or so,” George continued, “them does would throw a litter so we’d have plenty rabbits to eat an’ to sell. An’ we’d keep a few pigeons to go flyin’ around the win’mill like they done when I was a kid.” He looked raptly at the wall over Lennie’s head. “An’ it’d be our own, an’ nobody could can us. If we don’t like a guy we can say, ‘Get the hell out,’ and by God he’s got to do it. An’ if a fren’ come along, why we’d have an extra bunk, an’ we’d say, ‘Why don’t you spen’ the night?’ an’ by God he would. We’d have a setter dog and a couple stripe cats, but you gotta watch out them cats don’t get the little rabbits.”
Lennie breathed hard. “You jus’ let ‘em try to get the rabbits. I’ll break their God damn necks. I’ll.... I’ll smash ‘em with a stick.” He subsided, grumbling to himself, threatening the future cats which might dare to disturb the future rabbits.
George sat entranced with his own picture.
When Candy spoke they both jumped as though they had been caught doing something reprehensible. Candy said, “You know where’s a place like that?”
George was on guard immediately. “S’pose I do,” he said. “What’s that to you?”
“You don’t need to tell me where it’s at. Might be any place.”
“Sure,” said George. “That’s right. You couldn’t find it in a hundred years.”
Candy went on excitedly, “How much they want for a place like that?”
George watched him suspiciously. “Well — I could get it for six hundred bucks. The ol’ people that owns it is flat bust an’ the ol’ lady needs an operation. Say — what’s it to you? You got nothing to do with us.”
Candy said, “I ain’t much good with on’y one hand. I lost my hand right here on this ranch. That’s why they give me a job swampin’. An’ they give me two hunderd an’ fifty dollars ‘cause I los’ my hand. An’ I got fifty more saved up right in the bank, right now. Tha’s three hunderd, and I got fifty more comin’ the end a the month. Tell you what—” He leaned forward eagerly. “S’pose I went in with you guys. Tha’s three hunderd an’ fifty bucks I’d put in. I ain’t much good, but I could cook and tend the chickens and hoe the garden some. How’d that be?”
George half-closed his eyes. “I gotta think about that. We was always gonna do it by ourselves.”
Candy interrupted him, “I’d make a will an’ leave my share to you guys in case I kick off, ‘cause I ain’t got no relatives nor nothing. You guys got any money? Maybe we could do her right now?”
George spat on the floor disgustedly. “We got ten bucks between us.” Then he said thoughtfully, “Look, if me an’ Lennie work a month an’ don’t spen’ nothing, we’ll have a hunderd bucks. That’d be four fifty. I bet we could swing her for that. Then you an’ Lennie could go get her started an’ I’d get a job an’ make up the res’, an’ you could sell eggs an’ stuff like that.”
They fell into a silence. They looked at one another, amazed. This thing they had never really believed in was coming true. George said reverently, “Jesus Christ! I bet we could swing her.” His eyes were full of wonder. “I bet we could swing her,” he repeated softly.
Candy sat on the edge of his bunk. He scratched the stump of his wrist nervously. “I got hurt four year ago,” he said. “They’ll can me purty soon. Jus’ as soon as I can’t swamp out no bunk houses they’ll put me on the county. Maybe if I give you guys my money, you’ll let me hoe in the garden even after I ain’t no good at it. An’ I’ll wash dishes an’ little chicken stuff like that. But I’ll be on our own place, an’ I’ll be let to work on our own place.” He said miserably, “You seen what they done to my dog tonight? They says he wasn’t no good to himself nor nobody else. When they can me here I wisht somebody’d shoot me. But they won’t do nothing like that. I won’t have no place to go, an’ I can’t get no more jobs. I’ll have thirty dollars more comin’, time you guys is ready to quit.”
George stood up. “We’ll do her,” he said. “We’ll fix up that little old place an’ we’ll go live there.” He sat down again. They all sat still, all bemused by the beauty of the thing, each mind was popped into the future when this lovely thing should come about.
George said wonderingly, “S’pose they was a carnival or a circus come to town, or a ball game, or any damn thing.” Old Candy nodded in appreciation of the idea. “We’d just go to her,” George said. “We wouldn’t ask nobody if we could. Jus’ say, ‘We’ll go to her,’ an’ we would. Jus’ milk the cow and sling some grain to the chickens an’ go to her.”
“An’ put some grass to the rabbits,” Lennie broke in. “I wouldn’t never forget to feed them. When we gon’ta do it, George?”
“In one month. Right squack in one month. Know what I’m gon’ta do? I’m gon’ta write to them old people that owns the place that we’ll take it. An’ Candy’ll send a hunderd dollars to bind her.”
“Sure will,” said Candy. “They got a good stove there?”
“Sure, got a nice stove, burns coal or wood.”
) A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green. The water is warm too, for it has slipped twinkling over the yellow sands in the sunlight before reaching the narrow pool. On one side of the river the golden foothill slopes curve up to the strong and rocky Gabilan Mountains, but on the valley side the water is lined with trees — willows fresh and green with every spring, carrying in their lower leaf junctures the debris of the winter’s flooding; and sycamores with mottled, white, recumbent limbs and branches that arch over the pool. On the sandy bank under the trees the leaves lie deep and so crisp that a lizard makes a great skittering if he runs among them. Rabbits come out of the brush to sit on the sand in the evening, and the damp flats are covered with the night tracks of ‘coons, and with the spreadpads of dogs from the ranches, and with the split-wedge tracks of deer that come to drink in the dark.There is a path through the willows and among the sycamores, a path beaten hard by boys coming down from the ranches to swim in the deep pool, and beaten hard by tramps who come wearily down from the highway in the evening to jungle-up near water. In front of the low horizontal limb of a giant sycamore there is an ash pile made by many fires; the limb is worn smooth by men who have sat on it.
Evening of a hot day started the little wind to moving among the leaves. The shade climbed up the hills toward the top. On the sand banks the rabbits sat as quietly as little gray sculptured stones. And then from the direction of the state highway came the sound of footsteps on crisp sycamore leaves. The rabbits hurried noiselessly for cover. A stilted heron labored up into the air and pounded down river. For a moment the place was lifeless, and then two men emerged from the path and came into the opening by the green pool.
They had walked in single file down the path, and even in the open one stayed behind the other. Both were dressed in denim trousers and in denim coats with brass buttons. Both wore black, shapeless hats and both carried tight blanket rolls slung over their shoulders. The first man was small and quick, dark of face, with restless eyes and sharp, strong features. Every part of him was defined: small, strong hands, slender arms, a thin and bony nose. Behind him walked his opposite, a huge man, shapeless of face, with large, pale eyes, and wide, sloping shoulders; and he walked heavily, dragging his feet a little, the way a bear drags his paws. His arms did not swing at his sides, but hung loosely.
The first man stopped short in the clearing, and the follower nearly ran over him. He took off his hat and wiped the sweat-band with his forefinger and snapped the moisture off. His huge companion dropped his blankets and flung himself down and drank from the surface of the green pool; drank with long gulps, snorting into the water like a horse. The small man stepped nervously beside him.
“Lennie!” he said sharply. “Lennie, for God’ sakes don’t drink so much.” Lennie continued to snort into the pool. The small man leaned over and shook him by the shoulder. “Lennie. You gonna be sick like you was last night.”
Lennie dipped his whole head under, hat and all, and then he sat up on the bank and his hat dripped down on his blue coat and ran down his back. “That’s good,” he said. “You drink some, George. You take a good big drink.” He smiled happily.
George unslung his bindle and dropped it gently on the bank. “I ain’t sure it’s good water,” he said. “Looks kinda scummy.”
Lennie dabbled his big paw in the water and wiggled his fingers so the water arose in little splashes; rings widened across the pool to the other side and came back again. Lennie watched them go. “Look, George. Look what I done.”
George knelt beside the pool and drank from his hand with quick scoops. “Tastes all right,” he admitted. “Don’t really seem to be running, though. You never oughta drink water when it ain’t running, Lennie,” he said hopelessly. “You’d drink out of a gutter if you was thirsty.” He threw a scoop of water into his face and rubbed it about with his hand, under his chin and around the back of his neck. Then he replaced his hat, pushed himself back from the river, drew up his knees and embraced them. Lennie, who had been watching, imitated George exactly. He pushed himself back, drew up his knees, embraced them, looked over to George to see whether he had it just right. He pulled his hat down a little more over his eyes, the way George’s hat was.
George stared morosely at the water. The rims of his eyes were red with sun glare. He said angrily, “We could just as well of rode clear to the ranch if that bastard bus driver knew what he was talkin’ about. ‘Jes’ a little stretch down the highway,’ he says. ‘Jes’ a little stretch.’ God damn near four miles, that’s what it was! Didn’t wanta stop at the ranch gate, that’s what. Too God damn lazy to pull up. Wonder he isn’t too damn good to stop in Soledad at all. Kicks us out and says ‘Jes’ a little stretch down the road.’ I bet it was more than four miles. Damn hot day.”
Lennie looked timidly over to him. “George?”
“Yeah, what ya want?”
“Where we goin’, George?”
The little man jerked down the brim of his hat and scowled over at Lennie. “So you forgot that awready, did you? I gotta tell you again, do I? Jesus Christ, you’re a crazy bastard!”
“I forgot,” Lennie said softly. “I tried not to forget. Honest to God I did, George.”
“O.K — O.K. I’ll tell ya again. I ain’t got nothing to do. Might jus’ as well spen’ all my time tellin’ you things and then you forget ‘em, and I tell you again.”
“Tried and tried,” said Lennie, “but it didn’t do no good. I remember about the rabbits, George.”
“The hell with the rabbits. That’s all you ever can remember is them rabbits. O.K.! Now you listen and this time you got to remember so we don’t get in no trouble. You remember settin’ in that gutter on Howard Street and watchin’ that blackboard?”
Lennie’s face broke into a delighted smile. “Why sure, George. I remember that.... but.... what’d we do then? I remember some girls come by and you says.... you says....”
“The hell with what I says. You remember about us goin’ in to Murray and Ready’s, and they give us work cards and bus tickets?”
“Oh, sure, George. I remember that now.” His hands went quickly into his side coat pockets. He said gently, “George.... I ain’t got mine. I musta lost it.” He looked down at the ground in despair.
“You never had none, you crazy bastard. I got both of ‘em here. Think I’d let you carry your own work card?”
Lennie grinned with relief. “I.... I thought I put it in my side pocket.” His hand went into the pocket again.
George looked sharply at him. “What’d you take outa that pocket?”
“Ain’t a thing in my pocket,” Lennie said cleverly.
“I know there ain’t. You got it in your hand. What you got in your hand — hidin’ it?”
“I ain’t got nothin’, George. Honest.”
“Come on, give it here.”
Lennie held his closed hand away from George’s direction. “It’s on’y a mouse, George.”
“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. They was lookin’ for us, but they didn’t catch us.”
Lennie giggled happily. “I didn’t forget that, you bet.”
George lay back on the sand and crossed his hands under his head, and Lennie imitated him, raising his head to see whether he was doing it right. “God, you’re a lot of trouble,” said George. “I could get along so easy and so nice if I didn’t have you on my tail. I could live so easy and maybe have a girl.”
For a moment Lennie lay quiet, and then he said hopefully, “We gonna work on a ranch, George.”
“Awright. You got that. But we’re gonna sleep here because I got a reason.”
The day was going fast now. Only the tops of the Gabilan Mountains flamed with the light of the sun that had gone from the valley. A water snake slipped along on the pool, its head held up like a little periscope. The reeds jerked slightly in the current. Far off toward the highway a man shouted something, and another man shouted back. The sycamore limbs rustled under a little wind that died immediately.
“George — why ain’t we goin’ on to the ranch and get some supper? They got supper at the ranch.”
George rolled on his side. “No reason at all for you. I like it here. Tomorra we’re gonna go to work. I seen thrashin’ machines on the way down. That means we’ll be buckin’ grain bags, bustin’ a gut. Tonight I’m gonna lay right here and look up. I like it.”
Lennie got up on his knees and looked down at George. “Ain’t we gonna have no supper?”
“Sure we are, if you gather up some dead willow sticks. I got three cans of beans in my bindle. You get a fire ready. I’ll give you a match when you get the sticks together. Then we’ll heat the beans and have supper.”
Lennie said, “I like beans with ketchup.”
“Well, we ain’t got no ketchup. You go get wood. An’ don’t you fool around. It’ll be dark before long.”
Lennie lumbered to his feet and disappeared in the brush. George lay where he was and whistled softly to himself. There were sounds of splashings down the river in the direction Lennie had taken. George stopped whistling and listened. “Poor bastard,” he said softly, and then went on whistling again.
In a moment Lennie came crashing back through the brush. He carried one small willow stick in his hand. George sat up. “Awright,” he said brusquely. “Gi’me that mouse!”
But Lennie made an elaborate pantomime of innocence. “What mouse, George? I ain’t got no mouse.”
George held out his hand. “Come on. Give it to me. You ain’t puttin’ nothing over.”
Lennie hesitated, backed away, looked wildly at the brush line as though he contemplated running for his freedom. George said coldly, “You gonna give me that mouse or do I have to sock you?”
“Give you what, George?”
“You know God damn well what. I want that mouse.”
Lennie reluctantly reached into his pocket. His voice broke a little. “I don’t know why I can’t keep it. It ain’t nobody’s mouse. I didn’t steal it. I found it lyin’ right beside the road.”
George’s hand remained outstretched imperiously. Slowly, like a terrier who doesn’t want to bring a ball to its master, Lennie approached, drew back, approached again. George snapped his fingers sharply, and at the sound Lennie laid the mouse in his hand.
“I wasn’t doin’ nothing bad with it, George. Jus’ strokin’ it.”
George stood up and threw the mouse as far as he could into the darkening brush, and then he stepped to the pool and washed his hands. “You crazy fool. Don’t you think I could see your feet was wet where you went acrost the river to get it?” He heard Lennie’s whimpering cry and wheeled about. “Blubberin’ like a baby! Jesus Christ! A big guy like you.” Lennie’s lip quivered and tears started in his eyes. “Aw, Lennie!” George put his hand on Lennie’s shoulder. “I ain’t takin’ it away jus’ for meanness. That mouse ain’t fresh, Lennie; and besides, you’ve broke it pettin’ it. You get another mouse that’s fresh and I’ll let you keep it a little while.”
Lennie sat down on the ground and hung his head dejectedly. “I don’t know where there is no other mouse. I remember a lady used to give ‘em to me — ever’ one she got. But that lady ain’t here.”
George scoffed. “Lady, huh? Don’t even remember who that lady was. That was your own Aunt Clara. An’ she stopped givin’ ‘em to ya. You always killed ‘em.”
Lennie looked sadly up at him. “They was so little,” he said, apologetically. “I’d pet ‘em, and pretty soon they bit my fingers and I pinched their heads a little and then they was dead — because they was so little.
“I wisht we’d get the rabbits pretty soon, George. They ain’t so little.”
“The hell with the rabbits. An’ you ain’t to be trusted with no live mice. Your Aunt Clara give you a rubber mouse and you wouldn’t have nothing to do with it.”
“It wasn’t no good to pet,” said Lennie.
The flame of the sunset lifted from the mountaintops and dusk came into the valley, and a half darkness came in among the willows and the sycamores. A big carp rose to the surface of the pool, gulped air and then sank mysteriously into the dark water again, leaving widening rings on the water. Overhead the leaves whisked again and little puffs of willow cotton blew down and landed on the pool’s surface.
“You gonna get that wood?” George demanded. “There’s plenty right up against the back of that sycamore. Floodwater wood. Now you get it.”
Lennie went behind the tree and brought out a litter of dried leaves and twigs. He threw them in a heap on the old ash pile and went back for more and more. It was almost night now. A dove’s wings whistled over the water. George walked to the fire pile and lighted the dry leaves. The flame cracked up among the twigs and fell to work. George undid his bindle and brought out three cans of beans. He stood them about the fire, close in against the blaze, but not quite touching the flame.
“There’s enough beans for four men,” George said.
Lennie watched him from over the fire. He said patiently, “I like ‘em with ketchup.”
“Well, we ain’t got any,” George exploded. “Whatever we ain’t got, that’s what you want. God a’mighty, if I was alone I could live so easy. I could go get a job an’ work, an’ no trouble. No mess at all, and when the end of the month come I could take my fifty bucks and go into town and get whatever I want. Why, I could stay in a cat house all night. I could eat any place I want, hotel or any place, and order any damn thing I could think of. An’ I could do all that every damn month. Get a gallon of whisky, or set in a pool room and play cards or shoot pool.” Lennie knelt and looked over the fire at the angry George. And Lennie’s face was drawn with terror. “An’ whatta I got,” George went on furiously. “I got you! You can’t keep a job and you lose me ever’ job I get. Jus’ keep me shovin’ all over the country all the time. An’ that ain’t the worst. You get in trouble. You do bad things and I got to get you out.” His voice rose nearly to a shout. “You crazy son-of-a-bitch. You keep me in hot water all the time.” He took on the elaborate manner of little girls when they are mimicking one another. “Jus’ wanted to feel that girl’s dress — jus’ wanted to pet it like it was a mouse — Well, how the hell did she know you jus’ wanted to feel her dress? She jerks back and you hold on like it was a mouse. She yells and we got to hide in a irrigation ditch all day with guys lookin’ for us, and we got to sneak out in the dark and get outa the country. All the time somethin’ like that — all the time. I wisht I could put you in a cage with about a million mice an’ let you have fun.” His anger left him suddenly. He looked across the fire at Lennie’s anguished face, and then he looked ashamedly at the flames.
It was quite dark now, but the fire lighted the trunks of the trees and the curving branches overhead. Lennie crawled slowly and cautiously around the fire until he was close to George. He sat back on his heels. George turned the bean cans so that another side faced the fire. He pretended to be unaware of Lennie so close beside him.
“George,” very softly. No answer. “George!”
“Whatta you want?”
“I was only foolin’, George. I don’t want no ketchup. I wouldn’t eat no ketchup if it was right here beside me.”
“If it was here, you could have some.”
“But I wouldn’t eat none, George. I’d leave it all for you. You could cover your beans with it and I wouldn’t touch none of it.”
George still stared morosely at the fire. “When I think of the swell time I could have without you, I go nuts. I never get no peace.”
Lennie still knelt. He looked off into the darkness across the river. “George, you want I should go away and leave you alone?”
“Where the hell could you go?”
“Well, I could. I could go off in the hills there. Some place I’d find a cave.”
“Yeah? How’d you eat? You ain’t got sense enough to find nothing to eat.”
“I’d find things, George. I don’t need no nice food with ketchup. I’d lay out in the sun and nobody’d hurt me. An’ if I foun’ a mouse, I could keep it. Nobody’d take it away from me.”
George looked quickly and searchingly at him. “I been mean, ain’t I?”
“If you don’ want me I can go off in the hills an’ find a cave. I can go away any time.”
“No — look! I was jus’ foolin’, Lennie. ‘Cause I want you to stay with me. Trouble with mice is you always kill ‘em.” He paused. “Tell you what I’ll do, Lennie. First chance I get I’ll give you a pup. Maybe you wouldn’t kill it . That’d be better than mice. And you could pet it harder.”
Lennie avoided the bait. He had sensed his advantage. “If you don’t want me, you only jus’ got to say so, and I’ll go off in those hills right there — right up in those hills and live by myself. An’ I won’t get no mice stole from me.”
George said, “I want you to stay with me, Lennie. Jesus Christ, somebody’d shoot you for a coyote if you was by yourself. No, you stay with me. Your Aunt Clara wouldn’t like you running off by yourself, even if she is dead.”
Lennie spoke craftily, “Tell me — like you done before.”
“Tell you what?”
“About the rabbits.”
George snapped, “You ain’t gonna put nothing over on me.”
Lennie pleaded, “Come on, George. Tell me. Please, George. Like you done before.”
“You get a kick outa that, don’t you? Awright, I’ll tell you, and then we’ll eat our supper....”
George’s voice became deeper. He repeated his words rhythmically as though he had said them many times before. “Guys like us, that work on ranches, are the loneliest guys in the world. They got no fambly. They don’t belong no place. They come to a ranch an’ work up a stake and then they go into town and blow their stake, and the first thing you know they’re poundin’ their tail on some other ranch. They ain’t got nothing to look ahead to.”
Lennie was delighted. “That’s it — that’s it. Now tell how it is with us.”
George went on. “With us it ain’t like that. We got a future. We got somebody to talk to that gives a damn about us. We don’t have to sit-in no bar room blowin’ in our jack jus’ because we got no place else to go. If them other guys gets in jail they can rot for all anybody gives a damn. But not us.”
Lennie broke in. “ But not us! An’ why? Because.... because I got you to look after me, and you got me to look after you, and that’s why. ” He laughed delightedly. “Go on now, George!”
“You got it by heart. You can do it yourself.”
“No, you. I forget some a’ the things. Tell about how it’s gonna be.”
“O.K. Someday — we’re gonna get the jack together and we’re gonna have a little house and a couple of acres an’ a cow and some pigs and—”
“ An’ live off the fatta the lan’ ,” Lennie shouted. “An’ have rabbits . Go on, George! Tell about what we’re gonna have in the garden and about the rabbits in the cages and about the rain in the winter and the stove, and how thick the cream is on the milk like you can hardly cut it. Tell about that, George.”
“Why’n’t you do it yourself? You know all of it.”
“No.... you tell it. It ain’t the same if I tell it. Go on.... George. How I get to tend the rabbits.”
“Well,” said George, “we’ll have a big vegetable patch and a rabbit hutch and chickens. And when it rains in the winter, we’ll just say the hell with goin’ to work, and we’ll build up a fire in the stove and set around it an’ listen to the rain comin’ down on the roof — Nuts!” He took out his pocket knife. “I ain’t got time for no more.” He drove his knife through the top of one of the bean cans, sawed out the top and passed the can to Lennie. Then he opened a second can. From his side pocket he brought out two spoons and passed one of them to Lennie.
They sat by the fire and filled their mouths with beans and chewed mightily. A few beans slipped out of the side of Lennie’s mouth. George gestured with his spoon. “What you gonna say tomorrow when the boss asks you questions?”
Lennie stopped chewing and swallowed. His face was concentrated. “I.... I ain’t gonna.... say a word.”
“Good boy! That’s fine, Lennie! Maybe you’re gettin’ better. When we get the coupla acres I can let you tend the rabbits all right. ‘Specially if you remember as good as that.”
Lennie choked with pride. “I can remember,” he said.
George motioned with his spoon again. “Look, Lennie. I want you to look around here. You can remember this place, can’t you? The ranch is about a quarter mile up that way. Just follow the river?”
“Sure,” said Lennie. “I can remember this. Di’n’t I remember about not gonna say a word?”
“’Course you did. Well, look. Lennie — if you jus’ happen to get in trouble like you always done before, I want you to come right here an’ hide in the brush.”
“Hide in the brush,” said Lennie slowly.
“Hide in the brush till I come for you. Can you remember that?”
“Sure I can, George. Hide in the brush till you come.”
“But you ain’t gonna get in no trouble, because if you do, I won’t let you tend the rabbits.” He threw his empty bean can off into the brush.
“I won’t get in no trouble, George. I ain’t gonna say a word
“O.K. Bring your bindle over here by the fire. It’s gonna be nice sleepin’ here. Lookin’ up, and the leaves. Don’t build up no more fire. We’ll let her die down.”
They made their beds on the sand, and as the blaze dropped from the fire the sphere of light grew smaller; the curling branches disappeared and only a faint glimmer showed where the tree trunks were. From the darkness Lennie called, “George — you asleep?”
“No. Whatta you want?”
“Let’s have different color rabbits, George.”
“Sure we will,” George said sleepily. “Red and blue and green rabbits, Lennie. Millions of ‘em.”
“Furry ones, George, like I seen in the fair in Sacramento.”
“Sure, furry ones.”
“’Cause I can jus’ as well go away, George, an’ live in a cave.”
“You can jus’ as well go to hell,” said George. “Shut up now.”
The red light dimmed on the coals. Up the hill from the river a coyote yammered, and a dog answered from the other side of the stream.
The sycamore leaves whispered in a little night breeze.
The bunk house was a long, rectangular building. Inside, the walls were whitewashed and the floor unpainted. In three walls there were small, square windows, and in the fourth, a solid door with a wooden latch. Against the walls were eight bunks, five of them made up with blankets and the other three showing their burlap ticking. Over each bunk there was nailed an apple box with the opening forward so that it made two shelves for the personal belongings of the occupant of the bunk. And these shelves were loaded with little articles, soap and talcum powder, razors and those Western magazines ranch men love to read and scoff at and secretly believe. And there were medicines on the shelves, and little vials, combs; and from nails on the box sides, a few neckties. Near one wall there was a black cast-iron stove, its stovepipe going straight up through the ceiling. In the middle of the room stood a big square table littered with playing cards, and around it were grouped boxes for the players to sit on.
At about ten o’clock in the morning the sun threw a bright dust-laden bar through one of the side windows, and in and out of the beam flies shot like rushing stars.
The wooden latch raised. The door opened and a tall, stoop-shouldered old man came in. He was dressed in blue jeans and he carried a big push-broom in his left hand. Behind him came George, and behind George, Lennie.
“The boss was expectin’ you last night,” the old man said. “He was sore as hell when you wasn’t here to go out this morning.” He pointed with his right arm, and out of the sleeve came a round stick-like wrist, but no hand. “You can have them two beds there,” he said, indicating two bunks near the stove.
George stepped over and threw his blankets down on the burlap sack of straw that was a mattress. He looked into his box shelf and then picked a small yellow can from it. “Say. What the hell’s this?”
“I don’t know,” said the old man.
“Says ‘positively kills lice, roaches and other scourges.’ What the hell kind of bed you giving us, anyways. We don’t want no pants rabbits.”
The old swamper shifted his broom and held it between his elbow and his side while he held out his hand for the can. He studied the label carefully. “Tell you what—” he said finally, “last guy that had this bed was a blacksmith — hell of a nice fella and as clean a guy as you want to meet. Used to wash his hands even after he ate.”
“Then how come he got graybacks?” George was working up a slow anger. Lennie put his bindle on the neighboring bunk and sat down. He watched George with open mouth.
“Tell you what,” said the old swamper. “This here blacksmith — name of Whitey — was the kind of guy that would put that stuff around even if there wasn’t no bugs — just to make sure, see? Tell you what he used to do — At meals he’d peel his boil’ potatoes, an’ he’d take out ever’ little spot, no matter what kind, before he’d eat it. And if there was a red splotch on an egg, he’d scrape it off. Finally quit about the food. That’s the kinda guy he was — clean. Used ta dress up Sundays even when he wasn’t going no place, put on a necktie even, and then set in the bunk house.”
“I ain’t so sure,” said George skeptically. “What did you say he quit for?”
The old man put the yellow can in his pocket, and he rubbed his bristly white whiskers with his knuckles. “Why.... he.... just quit, the way a guy will. Says it was the food. Just wanted to move. Didn’t give no other reason but the food. Just says ‘gimme my time’ one night, the way any guy would.”
George lifted his tick and looked underneath it. He leaned over and inspected the sacking closely. Immediately Lennie got up and did the same with his bed. Finally George seemed satisfied. He unrolled his bindle and put things on the shelf, his razor and bar of soap, his comb and bottle of pills, his liniment and leather wristband. Then he made his bed up neatly with blankets. The old man said, “I guess the boss’ll be out here in a minute. He was sure burned when you wasn’t here this morning. Come right in when we was eatin’ breakfast and says, ‘Where the hell’s them new men?’ An’ he give the stable buck hell, too.”
George patted a wrinkle out of his bed, and sat down. “Give the stable buck hell?” he asked.
“Sure. Ya see the stable buck’s a nigger.”
“Nigger, huh?”
“Yeah. Nice fella too. Got a crooked back where a horse kicked him. The boss gives him hell when he’s mad. But the stable buck don’t give a damn about that. He reads a lot. Got books in his room.”
“What kind of a guy is the boss?” George asked.
“Well, he’s a pretty nice fella. Gets pretty mad sometimes, but he’s pretty nice. Tell ya what — know what he done Christmas? Brang a gallon of whisky right in here and says, ‘Drink hearty, boys. Christmas comes but once a year.’”
“The hell he did! Whole gallon?”
“Yes sir. Jesus, we had fun. They let the nigger come in that night. Little skinner name of Smitty took after the nigger. Done pretty good, too. The guys wouldn’t let him use his feet, so the nigger got him. If he coulda used his feet, Smitty says he woulda killed the nigger. The guys said on account of the nigger’s got a crooked back, Smitty can’t use his feet.” He paused in relish of the memory. “After that the guys went into Soledad and raised hell. I didn’t go in there. I ain’t got the poop no more.”
Lennie was just finishing making his bed. The wooden latch raised again and the door opened. A little stocky man stood in the open doorway. He wore blue jean trousers, a flannel shirt, a black, unbuttoned vest and a black coat. His thumbs were stuck in his belt, on each side of a square steel buckle. On his head was a soiled brown Stetson hat, and he wore high-heeled boots and spurs to prove he was not a laboring man.
The old swamper looked quickly at him, and then shuffled to the door rubbing his whiskers with his knuckles as he went. “Them guys just come,” he said, and shuffled past the boss and out the door.
The boss stepped into the room with the short, quick steps of a fat-legged man. “I wrote Murray and Ready I wanted two men this morning. You got your work slips?” George reached into his pocket and produced the slips and handed them to the boss. “It wasn’t Murray and Ready’s fault. Says right here on the slip that you was to be here for work this morning.”
George looked down at his feet. “Bus driver give us a bum steer,” he said. “We hadda walk ten miles. Says we was here when we wasn’t. We couldn’t get no rides in the morning.”
The boss squinted his eyes. “Well, I had to send out the grain teams short two buckers. Won’t do any good to go out now till after dinner.” He pulled his time book out of his pocket and opened it where a pencil was stuck between the leaves. George scowled meaningfully at Lennie, and Lennie nodded to show that he understood. The boss licked his pencil. “What’s your name?”
“George Milton.”
“And what’s yours?”
George said, “His name’s Lennie Small.”
The names were entered in the book. “Le’s see, this is the twentieth, noon the twentieth.” He closed the book. “Where you boys been working?”
“Up around Weed,” said George.
“You, too?” to Lennie.
“Yeah, him too,” said George.
The boss pointed a playful finger at Lennie. “He ain’t much of a talker, is he?”
“No, he ain’t, but he’s sure a hell of a good worker. Strong as a bull.”
Lennie smiled to himself. “Strong as a bull,” he repeated.
George scowled at him, and Lennie dropped his head in shame at having forgotten.
The boss said suddenly, “Listen, Small!” Lennie raised his head. “What can you do?”
In a panic, Lennie looked at George for help. “He can do anything you tell him,” said George. “He’s a good skinner. He can rassel grain bags, drive a cultivator. He can do anything. Just give him a try.”
The boss turned on George. “Then why don’t you let him answer? What you trying to put over?”
George broke in loudly, “Oh! I ain’t saying he’s bright. He ain’t. But I say he’s a God damn good worker. He can put up a four hundred pound bale.”
The boss deliberately put the little book in his pocket. He hooked his thumbs in his belt and squinted one eye nearly closed. “Say — what you sellin’?”
“Huh?”
“I said what stake you got in this guy? You takin’ his pay away from him?”
“No, ‘course I ain’t. Why ya think I’m sellin’ him out?”
“Well, I never seen one guy take so much trouble for another guy. I just like to know what your interest is.”
George said, “He’s my.... cousin. I told his old lady I’d take care of him. He got kicked in the head by a horse when he was a kid. He’s awright. Just ain’t bright. But he can do anything you tell him.”
The boss turned half away. “Well, God knows he don’t need any brains to buck barley bags. But don’t you try to put nothing over, Milton. I got my eye on you. Why’d you quit in Weed?”
“Job was done,” said George promptly.
“What kinda job?”
“We.... we was diggin’ a cesspool.”
“All right. But don’t try to put nothing over, ‘cause you can’t get away with nothing. I seen wise guys before. Go on out with the grain teams after dinner. They’re pickin’ up barley at the threshing machine. Go out with Slim’s team.”
“Slim?”
“Yeah. Big tall skinner. You’ll see him at dinner.” He turned abruptly and went to the door, but before he went out he turned and looked for a long moment at the two men.
When the sound of his footsteps had died away, George turned on Lennie. “So you wasn’t gonna say a word. You was gonna leave your big flapper shut and leave me do the talkin’. Damn near lost us the job.”
Lennie stared hopelessly at his hands. “I forgot, George.”
“Yeah, you forgot. You always forget, an’ I got to talk you out of it.” He sat down heavily on the bunk. “Now he’s got his eye on us. Now we got to be careful and not make no slips. You keep your big flapper shut after this.” He fell morosely silent.
“George.”
“What you want now?”
“I wasn’t kicked in the head with no horse, was I, George?”
“Be a damn good thing if you was,” George said viciously. “Save ever’body a hell of a lot of trouble.”
“You said I was your cousin, George.”
“Well, that was a lie. An’ I’m damn glad it was. If I was a relative of yours I’d shoot myself.” He stopped suddenly, stepped to the open front door and peered out. “Say, what the hell you doin’ listenin’?”
The old man came slowly into the room. He had his broom in his hand. And at his heels there walked a dragfooted sheepdog, gray of muzzle, and with pale, blind old eyes. The dog struggled lamely to the side of the room and lay down, grunting softly to himself and licking his grizzled, moth-eaten coat. The swamper watched him until he was settled. “I wasn’t listenin’. I was jus’ standin’ in the shade a minute scratchin’ my dog. I jus’ now finished swampin’ out the wash house.”
“You was pokin’ your big ears into our business,” George said. “I don’t like nobody to get nosey.”
The old man looked uneasily from George to Lennie, and then back. “I jus’ come there,” he said. “I didn’t hear nothing you guys was sayin’. I ain’t interested in nothing you was sayin’. A guy on a ranch don’t never listen nor he don’t ast no questions.”
“Damn right he don’t,” said George, slightly mollified, “not if he wants to stay workin’ long.” But he was reassured by the swamper’s defense. “Come on in and set down a minute,” he said. “That’s a hell of an old dog.”
“Yeah. I had ‘im ever since he was a pup. God, he was a good sheepdog when he was younger.” He stood his broom against the wall and he rubbed his white bristled cheek with his knuckles. “How’d you like the boss?” he asked.
“Pretty good. Seemed awright.”
“He’s a nice fella,” the swamper agreed. “You got to take him right.”
At that moment a young man came into the bunk house; a thin young man with a brown face, with brown eyes and a head of tightly curled hair. He wore a work glove on his left hand, and, like the boss, he wore high-heeled boots. “Seen my old man?” he asked.
The swamper said, “He was here jus’ a minute ago, Curley. Went over to the cook house, I think.”
“I’ll try to catch him,” said Curley. His eyes passed over the new men and he stopped. He glanced coldly at George and then at Lennie. His arms gradually bent at the elbows and his hands closed into fists. He stiffened and went into a slight crouch. His glance was at once calculating and pugnacious. Lennie squirmed under the look and shifted his feet nervously. Curley stepped gingerly close to him. “You the new guys the old man was waitin’ for?”
“We just come in,” said George.
“Let the big guy talk.”
Lennie twisted with embarrassment.
George said, “S’pose he don’t want to talk?”
Curley lashed his body around. “By Christ, he’s gotta talk when he’s spoke to. What the hell are you gettin’ into it for?”
“We travel together,” said George coldly.
“Oh, so it’s that way.”
George was tense, and motionless. “Yeah, it’s that way.”
Lennie was looking helplessly to George for instruction.
“An’ you won’t let the big guy talk, is that it?”
“He can talk if he wants to tell you anything.” He nodded slightly to Lennie.
“We jus’ come in,” said Lennie softly.
Curley stared levelly at him. “Well, nex’ time you answer when you’re spoke to.” He turned toward the door and walked out, and his elbows were still bent out a little.
George watched him go, and then he turned back to the swamper. “Say, what the hell’s he got on his shoulder? Lennie didn’t do nothing to him.”
The old man looked cautiously at the door to make sure no one was listening. “That’s the boss’s son,” he said quietly. “Curley’s pretty handy. He done quite a bit in the ring. He’s a lightweight, and he’s handy.”
“Well, let him be handy,” said George. “He don’t have to take after Lennie. Lennie didn’t do nothing to him. What’s he got against Lennie?”
The swamper considered.... “Well.... tell you what. Curley’s like alot of little guys. He hates big guys. He’s alla time picking scraps with big guys. Kind of like he’s mad at ‘em because he ain’t a big guy. You seen little guys like that, ain’t you? Always scrappy?”
“Sure,” said George. “I seen plenty tough little guys. But this Curley better not make no mistakes about Lennie. Lennie ain’t handy, but this Curley punk is gonna get hurt if he messes around with Lennie.”
“Well, Curley’s pretty handy,” the swamper said skeptically. “Never did seem right to me. S’pose Curley jumps a big guy an’ licks him. Ever’body says what a game guy Curley is. And s’pose he does the same thing and gets licked. Then ever’body says the big guy oughtta pick somebody his own size, and maybe they gang up on the big guy. Never did seem right to me. Seems like Curley ain’t givin’ nobody a chance.”
George was watching the door. He said ominously, “Well, he better watch out for Lennie. Lennie ain’t no fighter, but Lennie’s strong and quick and Lennie don’t know no rules.” He walked to the square table and sat down on one of the boxes. He gathered some of the cards together and shuffled them.
The old man sat down on another box. “Don’t tell Curley I said none of this. He’d slough me. He just don’t give a damn. Won’t ever get canned ‘cause his old man’s the boss.”
George cut the cards and began turning them over, looking at each one and throwing it down on a pile. He said, “This guy Curley sounds like a son-of-a-bitch to me. I don’t like mean little guys.”
“Seems to me like he’s worse lately,” said the swamper. “He got married a couple of weeks ago. Wife lives over in the boss’s house. Seems like Curley is cockier’n ever since he got married.”
George grunted, “Maybe he’s showin’ off for his wife.”
The swamper warmed to his gossip. “You seen that glove on his left hand?”
“Yeah. I seen it.”
“Well, that glove’s fulla vaseline.”
“Vaseline? What the hell for?”
“Well, I tell ya what — Curley says he’s keepin’ that hand soft for his wife.”
George studied the cards absorbedly. “That’s a dirty thing to tell around,” he said.
The old man was reassured. He had drawn a derogatory statement from George. He felt safe now, and he spoke more confidently. “Wait’ll you see Curley’s wife.”
George cut the cards again and put out a solitaire lay, slowly and deliberately. “Purty?” he asked casually.
“Yeah. Purty.... but—”
George studied his cards. “But what?”
“Well — she got the eye.”
“Yeah? Married two weeks and got the eye? Maybe that’s why Curley’s pants is full of ants.”
“I seen her give Slim the eye. Slim’s a jerkline skinner. Hell of a nice fella. Slim don’t need to wear no high-heeled boots on a grain team. I seen her give Slim the eye. Curley never seen it. An’ I seen her give Carlson the eye.”
George pretended a lack of interest. “Looks like we was gonna have fun.”
The swamper stood up from his box. “Know what I think?” George did not answer. “Well, I think Curley’s married.... a tart.”
“He ain’t the first,” said George. “There’s plenty done that.”
The old man moved toward the door, and his ancient dog lifted his head and peered about, and then got painfully to his feet to follow. “I gotta be settin’ out the wash basins for the guys. The teams’ll be in before long. You guys gonna buck barley?”
“Yeah.”
“You won’t tell Curley nothing I said?”
“Hell no.”
“Well, you look her over, mister. You see if she ain’t a tart.” He stepped out the door into the brilliant sunshine.
George laid down his cards thoughtfully, turned his piles of three. He built four clubs on his ace pile. The sun square was on the floor now, and the flies whipped through it like sparks. A sound of jingling harness and the croak of heavy-laden axles sounded from outside. From the distance came a clear call. “Stable buck — ooh, sta-able buck!” And then, “Where the hell is that God damn nigger?”
George stared at his solitaire lay, and then he flounced the cards together and turned around to Lennie. Lennie was lying down on the bunk watching him.
“Look, Lennie! This here ain’t no setup. I’m scared. You gonna have trouble with that Curley guy. I seen that kind before. He was kinda feelin’ you out. He figures he’s got you scared and he’s gonna take a sock at you the first chance he gets.”
Lennie’s eyes were frightened. “I don’t want no trouble,” he said plaintively. “Don’t let him sock me, George.”
George got up and went over to Lennie’s bunk and sat down on it. “I hate that kinda bastard,” he said. “I seen plenty of ‘em. Like the old guy says, Curley don’t take no chances. He always wins.” He thought for a moment. “If he tangles with you, Lennie, we’re gonna get the can. Don’t make no mistake about that. He’s the boss’s son. Look, Lennie. You try to keep away from him, will you? Don’t never speak to him. If he comes in here you move clear to the other side of the room. Will you do that, Lennie?”
“I don’t want no trouble,” Lennie mourned. “I never done nothing to him.”
“Well, that won’t do you no good if Curley wants to plug himself up for a fighter. Just don’t have nothing to do with him. Will you remember?”
“Sure, George. I ain’t gonna say a word.”
The sound of the approaching grain teams was louder, thud of big hooves on hard ground, drag of brakes and the jingle of trace chains. Men were calling back and forth from the teams. George, sitting on the bunk beside Lennie, frowned as he thought. Lennie asked timidly, “You ain’t mad, George?”
“I ain’t mad at you. I’m mad at this here Curley bastard. I hoped we was gonna get a little stake together — maybe a hundred dollars.” His tone grew decisive. “You keep away from Curley, Lennie.”
“Sure I will, George. I won’t say a word.”
“Don’t let him pull you in — but — if the son-of-a-bitch socks you — let ‘im have it.”
“Let ‘im have what, George?”
“Never mind, never mind. I’ll tell you when. I hate that kind of a guy. Look, Lennie, if you get in any kind of trouble, you remember what I told you to do?”
Lennie raised up on his elbow. His face contorted with thought. Then his eyes moved sadly to George’s face. “If I get in any trouble, you ain’t gonna let me tend the rabbits.”
“That’s not what I meant. You remember where we slep’ last night? Down by the river?”
“Yeah. I remember. Oh, sure I remember! I go there an’ hide in the brush.”
“Hide till I come for you. Don’t let nobody see you. Hide in the brush by the river. Say that over.”
“Hide in the brush by the river, down in the brush by the river.”
“If you get in trouble.”
“If I get in trouble.”
A brake screeched outside. A call came, “Stable — buck. Oh! Sta-able buck.”
George said, “Say it over to yourself, Lennie, so you won’t forget it.”
Both men glanced up, for the rectangle of sunshine in the doorway was cut off. A girl was standing there looking in. She had full, rouged lips and wide-spaced eyes, heavily made up. Her fingernails were red. Her hair hung in little rolled clusters, like sausages. She wore a cotton house dress and red mules, on the insteps of which were little bouquets of red ostrich feathers. “I’m lookin’ for Curley,” she said. Her voice had a nasal, brittle quality.
George looked away from her and then back. “He was in here a minute ago, but he went.”
“Oh!” She put her hands behind her back and leaned against the door frame so that her body was thrown forward. “You’re the new fellas that just come, ain’t ya?”
“Yeah.”
Lennie’s eyes moved down over her body, and though she did not seem to be looking at Lennie she bridled a little. She looked at her fingernails. “Sometimes Curley’s in here,” she explained.
George said brusquely. “Well he ain’t now.”
“If he ain’t, I guess I better look some place else,” she said playfully.
Lennie watched her, fascinated. George said, “If I see him, I’ll pass the word you was looking for him.”
She smiled archly and twitched her body. “Nobody can’t blame a person for lookin’,” she said. There were footsteps behind her, going by. She turned her head. “Hi, Slim,” she said.
Slim’s voice came through the door. “Hi, Good-lookin’.”
“I’m tryin’ to find Curley, Slim.”
“Well, you ain’t tryin’ very hard. I seen him goin’ in your house.”
She was suddenly apprehensive. “’Bye, boys,” she called into the bunk house, and she hurried away.
George looked around at Lennie. “Jesus, what a tramp,” he said. “So that’s what Curley picks for a wife.”
“She’s purty,” said Lennie defensively.
“Yeah, and she’s sure hidin’ it. Curley got his work ahead of him. Bet she’d clear out for twenty bucks.”
Lennie still stared at the doorway where she had been. “Gosh, she was purty.” He smiled admiringly. George looked quickly down at him and then he took him by an ear and shook him.
“Listen to me, you crazy bastard,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you even take a look at that bitch. I don’t care what she says and what she does. I seen ‘em poison before, but I never seen no piece of jail bait worse than her. You leave her be.”
Lennie tried to disengage his ear. “I never done nothing, George.”
“No, you never. But when she was standin’ in the doorway showin’ her legs, you wasn’t lookin’ the other way, neither.”
“I never meant no harm, George. Honest I never.”
“Well, you keep away from her, cause she’s a rattrap if I ever seen one. You let Curley take the rap. He let himself in for it. Glove fulla vaseline,” George said disgustedly. “An’ I bet he’s eatin’ raw eggs and writin’ to the patent medicine houses.”
Lennie cried out suddenly — “I don’t like this place, George. This ain’t no good place. I wanna get outa here.”
“We gotta keep it till we get a stake. We can’t help it, Lennie. We’ll get out jus’ as soon as we can. I don’t like it no better than you do.” He went back to the table and set out a new solitaire hand. “No, I don’t like it,” he said. “For two bits I’d shove out of here. If we can get jus’ a few dollars in the poke we’ll shove off and go up the American River and pan gold. We can make maybe a couple of dollars a day there, and we might hit a pocket.”
Lennie leaned eagerly toward him. “Le’s go, George. Le’s get outa here. It’s mean here.”
“We gotta stay,” George said shortly. “Shut up now. The guys’ll becomin’ in.”
From the washroom nearby came the sound of running water and rattling basins. George studied the cards. “Maybe we oughtta wash up,” he said. “But we ain’t done nothing to get dirty.”
A tall man stood in the doorway. He held a crushed Stetson hat under his arm while he combed his long, black, damp hair straight back. Like the others he wore blue jeans and a short denim jacket. When he had finished combing his hair he moved into the room, and he moved with a majesty achieved only by royalty and master craftsmen. He was a jerkline skinner, the prince of the ranch, capable of driving ten, sixteen, even twenty mules with a single line to the leaders. He was capable of killing a fly on the wheeler’s butt with a bull whip without touching the mule. There was a gravity in his manner and a quiet so profound that all talk stopped when he spoke. His authority was so great that his word was taken on any subject, be it politics or love. This was Slim, the jerkline skinner. His hatchet face was ageless. He might have been thirty-five or fifty. His ear heard more than was said to him, and his slow speech had overtones not of thought, but of understanding beyond thought. His hands, large and lean, were as delicate in their action as those of a temple dancer.
He smoothed out his crushed hat, creased it in the middle and put it on. He looked kindly at the two in the bunk house. “It’s brighter’n a bitch outside,” he said gently. “Can’t hardly see nothing in here. You the new guys?”
“Just come,” said George.
“Gonna buck barley?”
“That’s what the boss says.”
Slim sat down on a box across the table from George. He studied the solitaire hand that was upside down to him. “Hope you get on my team,” he said. His voice was very gentle. “I gotta pair of punks on my team that don’t know a barley bag from a blue ball. You guys ever bucked any barley?”
“Hell, yes,” said George. “I ain’t nothing to scream about, but that big bastard there can put up more grain alone than most pairs can.”
Lennie, who had been following the conversation back and forth with his eyes, smiled complacently at the compliment. Slim looked approvingly at George for having given the compliment. He leaned over the table and snapped the corner of a loose card. “You guys travel around together?” His tone was friendly. It invited confidence without demanding it.
“Sure,” said George. “We kinda look after each other.” He indicated Lennie with his thumb. “He ain’t bright. Hell of a good worker, though. Hell of a nice fella, but he ain’t bright. I’ve knew him for a long time.”
Slim looked through George and beyond him. “Ain’t many guys travel around together,” he mused. “I don’t know why. Maybe ever’body in the whole damn world is scared of each other.”
“It’s a lot nicer to go around with a guy you know,” said George.
A powerful, big-stomached man came into the bunk house. His head still dripped water from the scrubbing and dousing. “Hi, Slim,” he said, and then stopped and stared at George and Lennie.
“These guys jus’ come,” said Slim by way of introduction.
“Glad ta meet ya,” the big man said. “My name’s Carlson.”
“I’m George Milton. This here’s Lennie Small.”
“Glad ta meet ya,” Carlson said again. “He ain’t very small.” He chuckled softly at his joke. “Ain’t small at all,” he repeated. “Meant to ask you, Slim — how’s your bitch? I seen she wasn’t under your wagon this morning.”
“She slang her pups last night,” said Slim. “Nine of ‘em. I drowned four of ‘em right off. She couldn’t feed that many.”
“Got five left, huh?”
“Yeah, five. I kept the biggest.”
“What kinda dogs you think they’re gonna be?”
“I dunno,” said Slim. “Some kinda shepherds, I guess. That’s the most kind I seen around here when she was in heat.”
Carlson went on, “Got five pups, huh. Gonna keep all of ‘em?”
“I dunno. Have to keep ‘em a while so they can drink Lulu’s milk.”
Carlson said thoughtfully, “Well, looka here, Slim. I been thinkin’. That dog of Candy’s is so God damn old he can’t hardly walk. Stinks like hell, too. Ever’ time he comes into the bunk house I can smell him for two, three days. Why’n’t you get Candy to shoot his old dog and give him one of the pups to raise up? I can smell that dog a mile away. Got no teeth, damn near blind, can’t eat. Candy feeds him milk. He can’t chew nothing else.”
George had been staring intently at Slim. Suddenly a triangle began to ring outside, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until the beat of it disappeared into one ringing sound. It stopped as suddenly as it had started.
“There she goes,” said Carlson.
Outside, there was a burst of voices as a group of men went by.
Slim stood up slowly and with dignity. “You guys better come on while they’s still something to eat. Won’t be nothing left in a couple of minutes.”
Carlson stepped back to let Slim precede him, and then the two of them went out the door.
Lennie was watching George excitedly. George rumpled his cards into a messy pile. “Yeah!” George said, “I heard him, Lennie. I’ll ask him.”
“A brown and white one,” Lennie cried excitedly.
“Come on. Le’s get dinner. I don’t know whether he got a brown and white one.”
Lennie didn’t move from his bunk. “You ask him right away, George, so he won’t kill no more of ‘em.”
“Sure. Come on now, get up on your feet.”
Lennie rolled off his bunk and stood up, and the two of them started for the door. Just as they reached it, Curley bounced in.
“You seen a girl around here?” he demanded angrily.
George said coldly. “’Bout half an hour ago maybe.”
“Well what the hell was she doin’?”
George stood still, watching the angry little man. He said insultingly, “She said — she was lookin’ for you.”
Curley seemed really to see George for the first time. His eyes flashed over George, took in his height, measured his reach, looked at his trim middle. “Well, which way’d she go?” he demanded at last.
“I dunno,” said George. “I didn’ watch her go.”
Curley scowled at him, and turning, hurried out the door.
George said, “Ya know, Lennie, I’m scared I’m gonna tangle with that bastard myself. I hate his guts. Jesus Christ! Come on. They won’t be a damn thing left to eat.”
They went out the door. The sunshine lay in a thin line under the window. From a distance there could be heard a rattle of dishes.
After a moment the ancient dog walked lamely in through the open door. He gazed about with mild, half-blind eyes. He sniffed, and then lay down and put his head between his paws. Curley popped into the doorway again and stood looking into the room. The dog raised his head, but when Curley jerked out, the grizzled head sank to the floor again.
Although there was evening brightness showing through the windows of the bunk house, inside it was dusk. Through the open door came the thuds and occasional clangs of a horseshoe game, and now and then the sound of voices raised in approval or derision.
Slim and George came into the darkening bunk house together. Slim reached up over the card table and turned on the tin-shaded electric light. Instantly the table was brilliant with light, and the cone of the shade threw its brightness straight downward, leaving the corners of the bunk house still in dusk. Slim sat down on a box and George took his place opposite.
“It wasn’t nothing,” said Slim. “I would of had to drowned most of ‘em anyways. No need to thank me about that.”
George said, “It wasn’t much to you, maybe, but it was a hell of alot to him. Jesus Christ, I don’t know how we’re gonna get him to sleep in here. He’ll want to sleep right out in the barn with ‘em. We’ll have trouble keepin’ him from getting right in the box with them pups.”
“It wasn’t nothing,” Slim repeated. “Say, you sure was right about him. Maybe he ain’t bright, but I never seen such a worker. He damn near killed his partner buckin’ barley. There ain’t nobody can keep up with him. God awmighty, I never seen such a strong guy.”
George spoke proudly. “Jus’ tell Lennie what to do an’ he’ll do it if it don’t take no figuring. He can’t think of nothing to do himself, but he sure can take orders.”
There was a clang of horseshoe on iron stake outside and a little cheer of voices.
Slim moved back slightly so the light was not on his face. “Funny how you an’ him string along together.” It was Slim’s calm invitation to confidence.
“What’s funny about it?” George demanded defensively.
“Oh, I dunno. Hardly none of the guys ever travel together. I hardly never seen two guys travel together. You know how the hands are, they just come in and get their bunk and work a month, and then they quit and go out alone. Never seem to give a damn about nobody. It jus’ seems kinda funny a cuckoo like him and a smart little guy like you travelin’ together.”
“He ain’t no cuckoo,” said George. “He’s dumb as hell, but he ain’t crazy. An’ I ain’t so bright neither, or I wouldn’t be buckin’ barley for my fifty and found. If I was bright, if I was even a little bit smart, I’d have my own little place, an’ I’d be bringin’ in my own crops, ‘stead of doin’ all the work and not getting what comes up outa the ground.” George fell silent. He wanted to talk. Slim neither encouraged nor discouraged him. He just sat back quiet and receptive.
“It ain’t so funny, him an’ me goin’ aroun’ together,” George said at last. “Him and me was both born in Auburn. I knowed his Aunt Clara. She took him when he was a baby and raised him up. When his Aunt Clara died, Lennie just come along with me out workin’. Got kinda used to each other after a little while.”
“Umm,” said Slim.
George looked over at Slim and saw the calm, Godlike eyes fastened on him. “Funny,” said George. “I used to have a hell of a lot of fun with ‘im. Used to play jokes on ‘im ‘cause he was too dumb to take care of ‘imself. But he was too dumb even to know he had a joke played on him. I had fun. Made me seem God damn smart alongside of him. Why he’d do any damn thing I tol’ him. If I tol’ him to walk over a cliff, over he’d go. That wasn’t so damn much fun after a while. He never got mad about it, neither. I’ve beat the hell outa him, and he coulda bust every bone in my body jus’ with his han’s, but he never lifted a finger against me.” George’s voice was taking on the tone of confession. “Tell you what made me stop that. One day a bunch of guys was standin’ around up on the Sacramento River. I was feelin’ pretty smart. I turns to Lennie and says, ‘Jump in.’ An’ he jumps. Couldn’t swim a stroke. He damn near drowned before we could get him. An’ he was so damn nice to me for pullin’ him out. Clean forgot I told him to jump in. Well, I ain’t done nothing like that no more.”
“He’s a nice fella,” said Slim. “Guy don’t need no sense to be a nice fella. Seems to me sometimes it jus’ works the other way around. Take a real smart guy and he ain’t hardly ever a nice fella.”
George stacked the scattered cards and began to lay out his solitaire hand. The shoes thudded on the ground outside. At the windows the light of the evening still made the window squares bright.
“I ain’t got no people,” George said. “I seen the guys that go around on the ranches alone. That ain’t no good. They don’t have no fun. After a long time they get mean. They get wantin’ to fight all the time.”
“Yeah, they get mean,” Slim agreed. “They get so they don’t want to talk to nobody.”
“’Course Lennie’s a God damn nuisance most of the time,” said George. “But you get used to goin’ around with a guy an’ you can’t get rid of him.”
“He ain’t mean,” said Slim. “I can see Lennie ain’t a bit mean.”
“’Course he ain’t mean. But he gets in trouble alla time because he’s so God damn dumb. Like what happened in Weed—” He stopped, stopped in the middle of turning over a card. He looked alarmed and peered over at Slim. “You wouldn’t tell nobody?”
“What’d he do in Weed?” Slim asked calmly.
“You wouldn’ tell?.... No, ‘course you wouldn’.”
“What’d he do in Weed?” Slim asked again.
“Well, he seen this girl in a red dress. Dumb bastard like he is, he wants to touch ever’thing he likes. Just wants to feel it. So he reaches out to feel this red dress an’ the girl lets out a squawk, and that gets Lennie all mixed up, and he holds on ‘cause that’s the only thing he can think to do. Well, this girl squawks and squawks. I was jus’ a little bit off, and I heard all the yellin’, so I comes running, an’ by that time Lennie’s so scared all he can think to do is jus’ hold on. I socked him over the head with a fence picket to make him let go. He was so scairt he couldn’t let go of that dress. And he’s so God damn strong, you know.”
Slim’s eyes were level and unwinking. He nodded very slowly. “So what happens?”
George carefully built his line of solitaire cards. “Well, that girl rabbits in an’ tells the law she been raped. The guys in Weed start a party out to lynch Lennie. So we sit in a irrigation ditch under water all the rest of that day. Got on’y our heads sticking outa water, an’ up under the grass that sticks out from the side of the ditch. An’ that night we scrammed outa there.”
Slim sat in silence for a moment. “Didn’t hurt the girl none, huh?” he asked finally.
“Hell, no. He just scared her. I’d be scared too if he grabbed me. But he never hurt her. He jus’ wanted to touch that red dress, like he wants to pet them pups all the time.”
“He ain’t mean,” said Slim. “I can tell a mean guy a mile off.”
“’Course he ain’t, and he’ll do any damn thing I—”
Lennie came in through the door. He wore his blue denim coat over his shoulders like a cape, and he walked hunched way over.
“Hi, Lennie,” said George. “How you like the pup now?”
Lennie said breathlessly, “He’s brown an’ white jus’ like I wanted.” He went directly to his bunk and lay down and turned his face to the wall and drew up his knees.
George put down his cards very deliberately. “Lennie,” he said sharply.
Lennie twisted his neck and looked over his shoulder. “Huh? What you want, George?”
“I tol’ you you couldn’t bring that pup in here.”
“What pup, George? I ain’t got no pup.”
George went quickly to him, grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him over. He reached down and picked the tiny puppy from where Lennie had been concealing it against his stomach.
Lennie sat up quickly. “Give ‘um to me, George.”
George said, “You get right up an’ take this pup back to the nest. He’s gotta sleep with his mother. You want to kill him? Just born last night an’ you take him out of the nest. You take him back or I’ll tell Slim not to let you have him.”
Lennie held out his hands pleadingly. “Give ‘um to me, George. I’ll take ‘um back. I didn’t mean no harm, George. Honest I didn’t. I jus’ wanted to pet ‘um a little.”
George handed the pup to him. “Awright. You get him back there quick, and don’t you take him out no more. You’ll kill him, the first thing you know.” Lennie fairly scuttled out of the room.
Slim had not moved. His calm eyes followed Lennie out the door. “Jesus,” he said. “He’s jus’ like a kid, ain’t he?”
“Sure he’s jes’ like a kid. There ain’t no more harm in him than a kid neither, except he’s so strong. I bet he won’t come in here to sleep tonight. He’d sleep right alongside that box in the barn. Well — let ‘im. He ain’t doin’ no harm out there.”
It was almost dark outside now. Old Candy, the swamper, came in and went to his bunk, and behind him struggled his old dog. “Hello, Slim. Hello, George. Didn’t neither of you play horseshoes?”
“I don’t like to play ever’ night,” said Slim.
Candy went on, “Either you guys got a slug of whisky? I gotta gut ache.”
“I ain’t,” said Slim. “I’d drink it myself if I had, an’ I ain’t got a gut ache neither.”
“Gotta bad gut ache,” said Candy. “Them God damn turnips give it to me. I knowed they was going to before I ever eat ‘em.”
The thick-bodied Carlson came in out of the darkening yard. He walked to the other end of the bunk house and turned on the second shaded light. “Darker’n hell in here,” he said. “Jesus, how that nigger can pitch shoes.”
“He’s plenty good,” said Slim.
“Damn right he is,” said Carlson. “He don’t give nobody else a chance to win—” He stopped and sniffed the air, and still sniffing, looked down at the old dog. “God awmighty, that dog stinks. Get him outa here, Candy! I don’t know nothing that stinks as bad as an old dog. You gotta get him out.”
Candy rolled to the edge of his bunk. He reached over and patted the ancient dog, and he apologized, “I been around him so much I never notice how he stinks.”
“Well, I can’t stand him in here,” said Carlson. “That stink hangs around even after he’s gone.” He walked over with his heavy-legged stride and looked down at the dog. “Got no teeth,” he said. “He’s all stiff with rheumatism. He ain’t no good to you, Candy. An’ he ain’t no good to himself. Why’n’t you shoot him, Candy?”
The old man squirmed uncomfortably. “Well — hell! I had him so long. Had him since he was a pup. I herded sheep with him.” He said proudly, “You wouldn’t think it to look at him now, but he was the best damn sheep dog I ever seen.”
George said, “I seen a guy in Weed that had an Airedale could herd sheep. Learned it from the other dogs.”
Carlson was not to be put off. “Look, Candy. This ol’ dog jus’ suffers hisself all the time. If you was to take him out and shoot him right in the back of the head—” he leaned over and pointed, “—right there, why he’d never know what hit him.”
Candy looked about unhappily. “No,” he said softly. “No, I couldn’t do that. I had ‘im too long.”
“He don’t have no fun,” Carlson insisted. “And he stinks to beat hell. Tell you what. I’ll shoot him for you. Then it won’t be you that does it.”
Candy threw his legs off his bunk. He scratched the white stubble whiskers on his cheek nervously. “I’m so used to him,” he said softly. “I had him from a pup.”
“Well, you ain’t bein’ kind to him keepin’ him alive,” said Carlson. “Look, Slim’s bitch got a litter right now. I bet Slim would give you one of them pups to raise up, wouldn’t you, Slim?”
The skinner had been studying the old dog with his calm eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “You can have a pup if you want to.” He seemed to shake himself free for speech. “Carl’s right, Candy. That dog ain’t no good to himself. I wisht somebody’d shoot me if I get old an’ a cripple.”
Candy looked helplessly at him, for Slim’s opinions were law. “Maybe it’d hurt him,” he suggested. “I don’t mind takin’ care of him.”
Carlson said, “The way I’d shoot him, he wouldn’t feel nothing. I’d put the gun right there.” He pointed with his toe. “Right back of the head. He wouldn’t even quiver.”
Candy looked for help from face to face. It was quite dark outside by now. A young laboring man came in. His sloping shoulders were bent forward and he walked heavily on his heels, as though he carried the invisible grain bag. He went to his bunk and put his hat on his shelf. Then he picked a pulp magazine from his shelf and brought it to the light over the table. “Did I show you this, Slim?” he asked.
“Show me what?”
The young man turned to the back of the magazine, put it down on the table and pointed with his finger. “Right there, read that.” Slim bent over it. “Go on,” said the young man. “Read it out loud.”
“’Dear Editor,’” Slim read slowly. “’I read your mag for six years and I think it is the best on the market. I like stories by Peter Rand. I think he is a whing-ding. Give us more like the Dark Rider. I don’t write many letters. Just thought I would tell you I think your mag is the best dime’s worth I ever spent.’”
Slim looked up questioningly. “What you want me to read that for?”
Whit said, “Go on. Read the name at the bottom.”
Slim read, “’Yours for success, William Tenner.’” He glanced up at Whit again. “What you want me to read that for?”
Whit closed the magazine impressively. “Don’t you remember Bill Tenner? Worked here about three months ago?”
Slim thought..... “Little guy?” he asked. “Drove a cultivator?”
“That’s him,” Whit cried. “That’s the guy!”
“You think he’s the guy wrote this letter?”
“I know it. Bill and me was in here one day. Bill had one of them books that just come. He was lookin’ in it and he says, ‘I wrote a letter. Wonder if they put it in the book!’ But it wasn’t there. Bill says, ‘Maybe they’re savin’ it for later.’ An’ that’s just what they done. There it is.”
“Guess you’re right,” said Slim. “Got it right in the book.”
George held out his hand for the magazine. “Let’s look at it?”
Whit found the place again, but he did not surrender his hold on it. He pointed out the letter with his forefinger. And then he went to his box shelf and laid the magazine carefully in. “I wonder if Bill seen it,” he said. “Bill and me worked in that patch of field peas. Run cultivators, both of us. Bill was a hell of a nice fella.”
During the conversation Carlson had refused to be drawn in. He continued to look down at the old dog. Candy watched him uneasily. At last Carlson said, “If you want me to, I’ll put the old devil out of his misery right now and get it over with. Ain’t nothing left for him. Can’t eat, can’t see, can’t even walk without hurtin’.”
Candy said hopefully, “You ain’t got no gun.”
“The hell I ain’t. Got a Luger. It won’t hurt him none at all.”
Candy said, “Maybe tomorra. Le’s wait till tomorra.”
“I don’t see no reason for it,” said Carlson. He went to his bunk, pulled his bag from underneath it and took out a Luger pistol. “Le’s get it over with,” he said. “We can’t sleep with him stinkin’ around in here.” He put the pistol in his hip pocket.
Candy looked a long time at Slim to try to find some reversal. And Slim gave him none. At last Candy said softly and hopelessly, “Awright — take ‘im.” He did not look down at the dog at all. He lay back on his bunk and crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling.
From his pocket Carlson took a little leather thong. He stooped over and tied it around the old dog’s neck. All the men except Candy watched him. “Come boy. Come on, boy,” he said gently. And he said apologetically to Candy, “He won’t even feel it.” Candy did not move nor answer him. He twitched the thong. “Come on, boy.” The old dog got slowly and stiffly to his feet and followed the gently pulling leash.
Slim said, “Carlson.”
“Yeah?”
“You know what to do.”
“What ya mean, Slim?”
“Take a shovel,” said Slim shortly.
“Oh, sure! I get you.” He led the dog out into the darkness.
George followed to the door and shut the door and set the latch gently in its place. Candy lay rigidly on his bed staring at the ceiling.
Slim said loudly, “One of my lead mules got a bad hoof. Got to get some tar on it.” His voice trailed off. It was silent outside. Carlson’s footsteps died away. The silence came into the room. And the silence lasted.
George chuckled, “I bet Lennie’s right out there in the barn with his pup. He won’t want to come in here no more now he’s got a pup.”
Slim said, “Candy, you can have any one of them pups you want.”
Candy did not answer. The silence fell on the room again. It came out of the night and invaded the room. George said, “Anybody like to play a little euchre?”
“I’ll play out a few with you,” said Whit.
They took places opposite each other at the table under the light, but George did not shuffle the cards. He rippled the edge of the deck nervously, and the little snapping noise drew the eyes of all the men in the room, so that he stopped doing it. The silence fell on the room again. A minute passed, and another minute. Candy lay still, staring at the ceiling. Slim gazed at him for a moment and then looked down at his hands; he subdued one hand with the other, and held it down. There came a little gnawing sound from under the floor and all the men looked down toward it gratefully. Only Candy continued to stare at the ceiling.
“Sounds like there was a rat under there,” said George. “We ought to get a trap down there.”
Whit broke out, “What the hell’s takin’ him so long? Lay out some cards, why don’t you? We ain’t going to get no euchre played this way.”
George brought the cards together tightly and studied the backs of them. The silence was in the room again.
A shot sounded in the distance. The men looked quickly at the old man. Every head turned toward him.
For a moment he continued to stare at the ceiling. Then he rolled slowly over and faced the wall and lay silent.
George shuffled the cards noisily and dealt them. Whit drew a scoring board to him and set the pegs to start. Whit said, “I guess you guys really come here to work.”
“How do ya mean?” George asked.
Whit laughed. “Well, ya come on a Friday. You got two days to work till Sunday.”
“I don’t see how you figure,” said George.
Whit laughed again. “You do if you been around these big ranches much. Guy that wants to look over a ranch comes in Sat’day afternoon. He gets Sat’day night supper an’ three meals on Sunday, and he can quit Monday mornin’ after breakfast without turning his hand. But you come to work Friday noon. You got to put in a day an’ a half no matter how you figure.”
George looked at him levelly. “We’re gonna stick aroun’ a while,” he said. “Me an’ Lennie’s gonna roll up a stake.”
The door opened quietly and the stable buck put in his head; a lean negro head, lined with pain, the eyes patient. “Mr. Slim.”
Slim took his eyes from old Candy. “Huh? Oh! Hello, Crooks. What’s’ a matter?”
“You told me to warm up tar for that mule’s foot. I got it warm.”
“Oh! Sure, Crooks. I’ll come right out an’ put it on.”
“I can do it if you want, Mr. Slim.”
“No. I’ll come do it myself.” He stood up.
Crooks said, “Mr. Slim.”
“Yeah.”
“That big new guy’s messin’ around your pups out in the barn.”
“Well, he ain’t doin’ no harm. I give him one of them pups.”
“Just thought I’d tell ya,” said Crooks. “He’s takin’ ‘em outa the nest and handlin’ them. That won’t do them no good.”
“He won’t hurt ‘em,” said Slim. “I’ll come along with you now.”
George looked up. “If that crazy bastard’s foolin’ around too much, jus’ kick him out, Slim.”
Slim followed the stable buck out of the room.
George dealt and Whit picked up his cards and examined them. “Seen the new kid yet?” he asked.
“What kid?” George asked.
“Why, Curley’s new wife.”
“Yeah, I seen her.”
“Well, ain’t she a looloo?”
“I ain’t seen that much of her,” said George.
Whit laid down his cards impressively. “Well, stick around an’ keep your eyes open. You’ll see plenty. She ain’t concealin’ nothing. I never seen nobody like her. She got the eye goin’ all the time on everybody. I bet she even gives the stable buck the eye. I don’t know what the hell she wants.”
George asked casually, “Been any trouble since she got here?”
It was obvious that Whit was not interested in his cards. He laid his hand down and George scooped it in. George laid out his deliberate solitaire hand — seven cards, and six on top, and five on top of those.
Whit said, “I see what you mean. No, they ain’t been nothing yet. Curley’s got yella-jackets in his drawers, but that’s all so far. Ever’ time the guys is around she shows up. She’s lookin’ for Curley, or she thought she lef’ somethin’ layin’ around and she’s lookin’ for it. Seems like she can’t keep away from guys. An’ Curley’s pants is just crawlin’ with ants, but they ain’t nothing come of it yet.”
George said, “She’s gonna make a mess. They’s gonna be a bad mess about her. She’s a jail bait all set on the trigger. That Curley got his work cut out for him. Ranch with a bunch of guys on it ain’t no place for a girl, specially like her.”
Whit said, “If you got idears, you oughtta come in town with us guys tomorra night.”
“Why? What’s doin’?”
“Jus’ the usual thing. We go in to old Susy’s place. Hell of a nice place. Old Susy’s a laugh — always crackin’ jokes. Like she says when we come up on the front porch las’ Sat’day night. Susy opens the door and then she yells over her shoulder, ‘Get yor coats on, girls, here comes the sheriff.’ She never talks dirty, neither. Got five girls there.”
“What’s it set you back?” George asked.
“Two an’ a half. You can get a shot for two bits. Susy got nice chairs to set in, too. If a guy don’t want a flop, why he can just set in the chairs and have a couple or three shots and pass the time of day and Susy don’t give a damn. She ain’t rushin’ guys through and kickin’ ‘em out if they don’t want a flop.”
“Might go in and look the joint over,” said George.
“Sure. Come along. It’s a hell of a lot of fun — her crackin’ jokes all the time. Like she says one time, she says, ‘I’ve knew people that if they got a rag rug on the floor an’ a kewpie doll lamp on the phonograph they think they’re running a parlor house.’ That’s Clara’s house she’s talkin’ about. An’ Susy says, ‘I know what you boys want,’ she says. ‘My girls is clean,’ she says, ‘an’ there ain’t no water in my whisky,’ she says. ‘If any you guys wanta look at a kewpie doll lamp an’ take your own chance gettin’ burned, why you know where to go.’ An’ she says, ‘There’s guys around here walkin’ bow-legged ‘cause they like to look at a kewpie doll lamp.’”
George asked, “Clara runs the other house, huh?”
“Yeah,” said Whit. “We don’t never go there. Clara gets three bucks a crack and thirty-five cents a shot, and she don’t crack no jokes. But Susy’s place is clean and she got nice chairs. Don’t let no goo-goos in, neither.”
“Me an’ Lennie’s rollin’ up a stake,” said George. “I might go in an’ set and have a shot, but I ain’t puttin’ out no two and a half.”
“Well, a guy got to have some fun sometime,” said Whit.
The door opened and Lennie and Carlson came in together. Lennie crept to his bunk and sat down, trying not to attract attention. Carlson reached under his bunk and brought out his bag. He didn’t look at old Candy, who still faced the wall. Carlson found a little cleaning rod in the bag and a can of oil. He laid them on his bed and then brought out the pistol, took out the magazine and snapped the loaded shell from the chamber. Then he fell to cleaning the barrel with the little rod. When the ejector snapped, Candy turned over and looked for a moment at the gun before he turned back to the wall again.
Carlson said casually, “Curley been in yet?”
“No,” said Whit. “What’s eatin’ on Curley?”
Carlson squinted down the barrel of his gun. “Lookin’ for his old lady. I seen him going round and round outside.”
Whit said sarcastically, “He spends half his time lookin’ for her, and the rest of the time she’s lookin’ for him.”
Curley burst into the room excitedly. “Any you guys seen my wife?” he demanded.
“She ain’t been here,” said Whit.
Curley looked threateningly about the room. “Where the hell’s Slim?”
“Went out in the barn,” said George. “He was gonna put some tar on a split hoof.”
Curley’s shoulders dropped and squared. “How long ago’d he go?”
“Five — ten minutes.”
Curley jumped out the door and banged it after him.
Whit stood up. “I guess maybe I’d like to see this,” he said. “Curley’s just spoilin’ or he wouldn’t start for Slim. An’ Curley’s handy, God damn handy. Got in the finals for the Golden Gloves. He got newspaper clippings about it.” He considered. “But jus’ the same, he better leave Slim alone. Nobody don’t know what Slim can do.”
“Thinks Slim’s with his wife, don’t he?” said George.
“Looks like it,” Whit said. “’Course Slim ain’t. Least I don’t think Slim is. But I like to see the fuss if it comes off. Come on, le’s go.”
George said, “I’m stayin’ right here. I don’t want to get mixed up in nothing. Lennie and me got to make a stake.”
Carlson finished the cleaning of the gun and put it in the bag and pushed the bag under his bunk. “I guess I’ll go out and look her over,” he said. Old Candy lay still, and Lennie, from his bunk, watched George cautiously.
When Whit and Carlson were gone and the door closed after them, George turned to Lennie. “What you got on your mind?”
“I ain’t done nothing, George. Slim says I better not pet them pups so much for a while. Slim says it ain’t good for them; so I come right in. I been good, George.”
“I coulda told you that,” said George.
“Well, I wasn’t hurtin’ ‘em none. I jus’ had mine in my lap pettin’ it.”
George asked, “Did you see Slim out in the barn?”
“Sure I did. He tol’ me I better not pet that pup no more.”
“Did you see that girl?”
“You mean Curley’s girl?”
“Yeah. Did she come in the barn?”
“No. Anyways I never seen her.”
“You never seen Slim talkin’ to her?”
“Uh-uh. She ain’t been in the barn.”
“O.K.,” said George. “I guess them guys ain’t gonna see no fight. If there’s any fightin’, Lennie, you keep out of it.”
“I don’t want no fights,” said Lennie. He got up from his bunk and sat down at the table, across from George. Almost automatically George shuffled the cards and laid out his solitaire hand. He used a deliberate, thoughtful slowness.
Lennie reached for a face card and studied it, then turned it upside down and studied it. “Both ends the same,” he said. “George, why is it both ends the same?”
“I don’t know,” said George. “That’s jus’ the way they make ‘em. What was Slim doin’ in the barn when you seen him?”
“Slim?”
“Sure. You seen him in the barn, an’ he tol’ you not to pet the pups so much.”
“Oh, yeah. He had a can a’ tar an’ a paint brush. I don’t know what for.”
“You sure that girl didn’t come in like she come in here today?”
“No. She never come.”
George sighed. “You give me a good whore house every time,” he said. “A guy can go in an’ get drunk and get ever’thing outa his system all at once, an’ no messes. And he knows how much it’s gonna set him back. These here jail baits is just set on the trigger of the hoosegow.”
Lennie followed his words admiringly, and moved his lips a little to keep up. George continued, “You remember Andy Cushman, Lennie? Went to grammar school?”
“The one that his old lady used to make hot cakes for the kids?” Lennie asked.
“Yeah. That’s the one. You can remember anything if there’s anything to eat in it.” George looked carefully at the solitaire hand. He put an ace up on his scoring rack and piled a two, three and four of diamonds on it. “Andy’s in San Quentin right now on account of a tart,” said George.
Lennie drummed on the table with his fingers. “George?”
“Huh?”
“George, how long’s it gonna be till we get that little place an’ live on the fatta the lan’ — an’ rabbits?”
“I don’t know”, said George. “We gotta get a big stake together. I know a little place we can get cheap, but they ain’t givin’ it away.”
Old Candy turned slowly over. His eyes were wide open. He watched George carefully.
Lennie said, “Tell about that place, George.”
“I jus’ tol’ you, jus’ las’ night.”
“Go on — tell again, George.”
“Well, it’s ten acres,” said George. “Got a little win’mill. Got a little shack on it, an’ a chicken run. Got a kitchen, orchard, cherries, apples, peaches, ‘cots, nuts, got a few berries. They’s a place for alfalfa and plenty water to flood it. They’s a pig pen—”
“An’ rabbits, George.”
“No place for rabbits now, but I could easy build a few hutches and you could feed alfalfa to the rabbits.”
“Damn right, I could,” said Lennie. “You God damn right I could.”
George’s hands stopped working with the cards. His voice was growing warmer. “An’ we could have a few pigs. I could build a smoke house like the one gran’pa had, an’ when we kill a pig we can smoke the bacon and the hams, and make sausage an’ all like that. An’ when the salmon run up river we could catch a hundred of ‘em an’ salt ‘em down or smoke ‘em. We could have them for breakfast. They ain’t nothing so nice as smoked salmon. When the fruit come in we could can it — and tomatoes, they’re easy to can. Ever’ Sunday we’d kill a chicken or a rabbit. Maybe we’d have a cow or a goat, and the cream is so God damn thick you got to cut it with a knife and take it out with a spoon.”
Lennie watched him with wide eyes, and old Candy watched him too. Lennie said softly, “We could live offa the fatta the lan’.”
“Sure,” said George. “All kin’s a vegetables in the garden, and if we want a little whisky we can sell a few eggs or something, or some milk. We’d jus’ live there. We’d belong there. There wouldn’t be no more runnin’ round the country and gettin’ fed by a Jap cook. No, sir, we’d have our own place where we belonged and not sleep in no bunk house.”
“Tell about the house, George,” Lennie begged.
“Sure, we’d have a little house an’ a room to ourself. Little fat iron stove, an’ in the winter we’d keep a fire goin’ in it. It ain’t enough land so we’d have to work too hard. Maybe six, seven hours a day. We wouldn’t have to buck no barley eleven hours a day. An’ when we put in a crop, why, we’d be there to take the crop up. We’d know what come of our planting.”
“An’ rabbits,” Lennie said eagerly. “An’ I’d take care of ‘em. Tell how I’d do that, George.”
“Sure, you’d go out in the alfalfa patch an’ you’d have a sack. You’d fill up the sack and bring it in an’ put it in the rabbit cages.”
“They’d nibble an’ they’d nibble,” said Lennie, “the way they do. I seen ‘em.”
“Ever’ six weeks or so,” George continued, “them does would throw a litter so we’d have plenty rabbits to eat an’ to sell. An’ we’d keep a few pigeons to go flyin’ around the win’mill like they done when I was a kid.” He looked raptly at the wall over Lennie’s head. “An’ it’d be our own, an’ nobody could can us. If we don’t like a guy we can say, ‘Get the hell out,’ and by God he’s got to do it. An’ if a fren’ come along, why we’d have an extra bunk, an’ we’d say, ‘Why don’t you spen’ the night?’ an’ by God he would. We’d have a setter dog and a couple stripe cats, but you gotta watch out them cats don’t get the little rabbits.”
Lennie breathed hard. “You jus’ let ‘em try to get the rabbits. I’ll break their God damn necks. I’ll.... I’ll smash ‘em with a stick.” He subsided, grumbling to himself, threatening the future cats which might dare to disturb the future rabbits.
George sat entranced with his own picture.
When Candy spoke they both jumped as though they had been caught doing something reprehensible. Candy said, “You know where’s a place like that?”
George was on guard immediately. “S’pose I do,” he said. “What’s that to you?”
“You don’t need to tell me where it’s at. Might be any place.”
“Sure,” said George. “That’s right. You couldn’t find it in a hundred years.”
Candy went on excitedly, “How much they want for a place like that?”
George watched him suspiciously. “Well — I could get it for six hundred bucks. The ol’ people that owns it is flat bust an’ the ol’ lady needs an operation. Say — what’s it to you? You got nothing to do with us.”
Candy said, “I ain’t much good with on’y one hand. I lost my hand right here on this ranch. That’s why they give me a job swampin’. An’ they give me two hunderd an’ fifty dollars ‘cause I los’ my hand. An’ I got fifty more saved up right in the bank, right now. Tha’s three hunderd, and I got fifty more comin’ the end a the month. Tell you what—” He leaned forward eagerly. “S’pose I went in with you guys. Tha’s three hunderd an’ fifty bucks I’d put in. I ain’t much good, but I could cook and tend the chickens and hoe the garden some. How’d that be?”
George half-closed his eyes. “I gotta think about that. We was always gonna do it by ourselves.”
Candy interrupted him, “I’d make a will an’ leave my share to you guys in case I kick off, ‘cause I ain’t got no relatives nor nothing. You guys got any money? Maybe we could do her right now?”
George spat on the floor disgustedly. “We got ten bucks between us.” Then he said thoughtfully, “Look, if me an’ Lennie work a month an’ don’t spen’ nothing, we’ll have a hunderd bucks. That’d be four fifty. I bet we could swing her for that. Then you an’ Lennie could go get her started an’ I’d get a job an’ make up the res’, an’ you could sell eggs an’ stuff like that.”
They fell into a silence. They looked at one another, amazed. This thing they had never really believed in was coming true. George said reverently, “Jesus Christ! I bet we could swing her.” His eyes were full of wonder. “I bet we could swing her,” he repeated softly.
Candy sat on the edge of his bunk. He scratched the stump of his wrist nervously. “I got hurt four year ago,” he said. “They’ll can me purty soon. Jus’ as soon as I can’t swamp out no bunk houses they’ll put me on the county. Maybe if I give you guys my money, you’ll let me hoe in the garden even after I ain’t no good at it. An’ I’ll wash dishes an’ little chicken stuff like that. But I’ll be on our own place, an’ I’ll be let to work on our own place.” He said miserably, “You seen what they done to my dog tonight? They says he wasn’t no good to himself nor nobody else. When they can me here I wisht somebody’d shoot me. But they won’t do nothing like that. I won’t have no place to go, an’ I can’t get no more jobs. I’ll have thirty dollars more comin’, time you guys is ready to quit.”
George stood up. “We’ll do her,” he said. “We’ll fix up that little old place an’ we’ll go live there.” He sat down again. They all sat still, all bemused by the beauty of the thing, each mind was popped into the future when this lovely thing should come about.
George said wonderingly, “S’pose they was a carnival or a circus come to town, or a ball game, or any damn thing.” Old Candy nodded in appreciation of the idea. “We’d just go to her,” George said. “We wouldn’t ask nobody if we could. Jus’ say, ‘We’ll go to her,’ an’ we would. Jus’ milk the cow and sling some grain to the chickens an’ go to her.”
“An’ put some grass to the rabbits,” Lennie broke in. “I wouldn’t never forget to feed them. When we gon’ta do it, George?”
“In one month. Right squack in one month. Know what I’m gon’ta do? I’m gon’ta write to them old people that owns the place that we’ll take it. An’ Candy’ll send a hunderd dollars to bind her.”
“Sure will,” said Candy. “They got a good stove there?”
“Sure, got a nice stove, burns coal or wood.”
Last edited:
Bananas are yellow.
For the same reason leaves turn yellow in the fall: carotenoids. Yellow bananas have particular carotenoids called xanthophylls such as lutein, but carotenoids come in a wide variety of shades in the yellow to orange range.
For the same reason leaves turn yellow in the fall: carotenoids. Yellow bananas have particular carotenoids called xanthophylls such as lutein, but carotenoids come in a wide variety of shades in the yellow to orange range.
Bee Movie Script
According to all known laws
of aviation,
there is no way a bee
should be able to fly.
Its wings are too small to get
its fat little body off the ground.
The bee, of course, flies anyway
because bees don't care
what humans think is impossible.
Yellow, black. Yellow, black.
Yellow, black. Yellow, black.
Ooh, black and yellow!
Let's shake it up a little.
Barry! Breakfast is ready!
Ooming!
Hang on a second.
Hello?
- Barry?
- Adam?
- Oan you believe this is happening?
- I can't. I'll pick you up.
Looking sharp.
Use the stairs. Your father
paid good money for those.
Sorry. I'm excited.
Here's the graduate.
We're very proud of you, son.
A perfect report card, all B's.
Very proud.
Ma! I got a thing going here.
- You got lint on your fuzz.
- Ow! That's me!
- Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000.
- Bye!
Barry, I told you,
stop flying in the house!
- Hey, Adam.
- Hey, Barry.
- Is that fuzz gel?
- A little. Special day, graduation.
Never thought I'd make it.
Three days grade school,
three days high school.
Those were awkward.
Three days college. I'm glad I took
a day and hitchhiked around the hive.
You did come back different.
- Hi, Barry.
- Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good.
- Hear about Frankie?
- Yeah.
- You going to the funeral?
- No, I'm not going.
Everybody knows,
sting someone, you die.
Don't waste it on a squirrel.
Such a hothead.
I guess he could have
just gotten out of the way.
I love this incorporating
an amusement park into our day.
That's why we don't need vacations.
Boy, quite a bit of pomp...
under the circumstances.
- Well, Adam, today we are men.
- We are!
- Bee-men.
- Amen!
Hallelujah!
Students, faculty, distinguished bees,
please welcome Dean Buzzwell.
Welcome, New Hive Oity
graduating class of...
...9:15.
That concludes our ceremonies.
And begins your career
at Honex Industries!
Will we pick ourjob today?
I heard it's just orientation.
Heads up! Here we go.
Keep your hands and antennas
inside the tram at all times.
- Wonder what it'll be like?
- A little scary.
Welcome to Honex,
a division of Honesco
and a part of the Hexagon Group.
This is it!
Wow.
Wow.
We know that you, as a bee,
have worked your whole life
to get to the point where you
can work for your whole life.
Honey begins when our valiant Pollen
Jocks bring the nectar to the hive.
Our top-secret formula
is automatically color-corrected,
scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured
into this soothing sweet syrup
with its distinctive
golden glow you know as...
Honey!
- That girl was hot.
- She's my cousin!
- She is?
- Yes, we're all cousins.
- Right. You're right.
- At Honex, we constantly strive
to improve every aspect
of bee existence.
These bees are stress-testing
a new helmet technology.
- What do you think he makes?
- Not enough.
Here we have our latest advancement,
the Krelman.
- What does that do?
- Oatches that little strand of honey
that hangs after you pour it.
Saves us millions.
Oan anyone work on the Krelman?
Of course. Most bee jobs are
small ones. But bees know
that every small job,
if it's done well, means a lot.
But choose carefully
because you'll stay in the job
you pick for the rest of your life.
The same job the rest of your life?
I didn't know that.
What's the difference?
You'll be happy to know that bees,
as a species, haven't had one day off
in 27 million years.
So you'll just work us to death?
We'll sure try.
Wow! That blew my mind!
"What's the difference?"
How can you say that?
One job forever?
That's an insane choice to have to make.
I'm relieved. Now we only have
to make one decision in life.
But, Adam, how could they
never have told us that?
Why would you question anything?
We're bees.
We're the most perfectly
functioning society on Earth.
You ever think maybe things
work a little too well here?
Like what? Give me one example.
I don't know. But you know
what I'm talking about.
Please clear the gate.
Royal Nectar Force on approach.
Wait a second. Oheck it out.
- Hey, those are Pollen Jocks!
- Wow.
I've never seen them this close.
They know what it's like
outside the hive.
Yeah, but some don't come back.
- Hey, Jocks!
- Hi, Jocks!
You guys did great!
You're monsters!
You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it!
- I wonder where they were.
- I don't know.
Their day's not planned.
Outside the hive, flying who knows
where, doing who knows what.
You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen
Jock. You have to be bred for that.
Right.
Look. That's more pollen
than you and I will see in a lifetime.
It's just a status symbol.
Bees make too much of it.
Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it
and the ladies see you wearing it.
Those ladies?
Aren't they our cousins too?
Distant. Distant.
Look at these two.
- Oouple of Hive Harrys.
- Let's have fun with them.
It must be dangerous
being a Pollen Jock.
Yeah. Once a bear pinned me
against a mushroom!
He had a paw on my throat,
and with the other, he was slapping me!
- Oh, my!
- I never thought I'd knock him out.
What were you doing during this?
Trying to alert the authorities.
I can autograph that.
A little gusty out there today,
wasn't it, comrades?
Yeah. Gusty.
We're hitting a sunflower patch
six miles from here tomorrow.
- Six miles, huh?
- Barry!
A puddle jump for us,
but maybe you're not up for it.
- Maybe I am.
- You are not!
We're going 0900 at J-Gate.
What do you think, buzzy-boy?
Are you bee enough?
I might be. It all depends
on what 0900 means.
Hey, Honex!
Dad, you surprised me.
You decide what you're interested in?
- Well, there's a lot of choices.
- But you only get one.
Do you ever get bored
doing the same job every day?
Son, let me tell you about stirring.
You grab that stick, and you just
move it around, and you stir it around.
You get yourself into a rhythm.
It's a beautiful thing.
You know, Dad,
the more I think about it,
maybe the honey field
just isn't right for me.
You were thinking of what,
making balloon animals?
That's a bad job
for a guy with a stinger.
Janet, your son's not sure
he wants to go into honey!
- Barry, you are so funny sometimes.
- I'm not trying to be funny.
You're not funny! You're going
into honey. Our son, the stirrer!
- You're gonna be a stirrer?
- No one's listening to me!
Wait till you see the sticks I have.
I could say anything right now.
I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!
Let's open some honey and celebrate!
Maybe I'll pierce my thorax.
Shave my antennae.
Shack up with a grasshopper. Get
a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!
I'm so proud.
- We're starting work today!
- Today's the day.
Oome on! All the good jobs
will be gone.
Yeah, right.
Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring,
stirrer, front desk, hair removal...
- Is it still available?
- Hang on. Two left!
One of them's yours! Oongratulations!
Step to the side.
- What'd you get?
- Picking crud out. Stellar!
Wow!
Oouple of newbies?
Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!
Make your choice.
- You want to go first?
- No, you go.
Oh, my. What's available?
Restroom attendant's open,
not for the reason you think.
- Any chance of getting the Krelman?
- Sure, you're on.
I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.
Wax monkey's always open.
The Krelman opened up again.
What happened?
A bee died. Makes an opening. See?
He's dead. Another dead one.
Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.
Dead from the neck up.
Dead from the neck down. That's life!
Oh, this is so hard!
Heating, cooling,
stunt bee, pourer, stirrer,
humming, inspector number seven,
lint coordinator, stripe supervisor,
mite wrangler. Barry, what
do you think I should... Barry?
Barry!
All right, we've got the sunflower patch
in quadrant nine...
What happened to you?
Where are you?
- I'm going out.
- Out? Out where?
- Out there.
- Oh, no!
I have to, before I go
to work for the rest of my life.
You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?
Another call coming in.
If anyone's feeling brave,
there's a Korean deli on 83rd
that gets their roses today.
Hey, guys.
- Look at that.
- Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?
Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.
It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.
Really? Feeling lucky, are you?
Sign here, here. Just initial that.
- Thank you.
- OK.
You got a rain advisory today,
and as you all know,
bees cannot fly in rain.
So be careful. As always,
watch your brooms,
hockey sticks, dogs,
birds, bears and bats.
Also, I got a couple of reports
of root beer being poured on us.
Murphy's in a home because of it,
babbling like a cicada!
- That's awful.
- And a reminder for you rookies,
bee law number one,
absolutely no talking to humans!
All right, launch positions!
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz,
buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!
Black and yellow!
Hello!
You ready for this, hot shot?
Yeah. Yeah, bring it on.
Wind, check.
- Antennae, check.
- Nectar pack, check.
- Wings, check.
- Stinger, check.
Scared out of my shorts, check.
OK, ladies,
let's move it out!
Pound those petunias,
you striped stem-suckers!
All of you, drain those flowers!
Wow! I'm out!
I can't believe I'm out!
So blue.
I feel so fast and free!
Box kite!
Wow!
Flowers!
This is Blue Leader.
We have roses visual.
Bring it around 30 degrees and hold.
Roses!
30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around.
Stand to the side, kid.
It's got a bit of a kick.
That is one nectar collector!
- Ever see pollination up close?
- No, sir.
I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it
over here. Maybe a dash over there,
a pinch on that one.
See that? It's a little bit of magic.
That's amazing. Why do we do that?
That's pollen power. More pollen, more
flowers, more nectar, more honey for us.
Oool.
I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow.
Oould be daisies. Don't we need those?
Oopy that visual.
Wait. One of these flowers
seems to be on the move.
Say again? You're reporting
a moving flower?
Affirmative.
That was on the line!
This is the coolest. What is it?
I don't know, but I'm loving this color.
It smells good.
Not like a flower, but I like it.
Yeah, fuzzy.
Ohemical-y.
Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby.
My sweet lord of bees!
Oandy-brain, get off there!
Problem!
- Guys!
- This could be bad.
Affirmative.
Very close.
Gonna hurt.
Mama's little boy.
You are way out of position, rookie!
Ooming in at you like a missile!
Help me!
I don't think these are flowers.
- Should we tell him?
- I think he knows.
What is this?!
Match point!
You can start packing up, honey,
because you're about to eat it!
Yowser!
Gross.
There's a bee in the car!
- Do something!
- I'm driving!
- Hi, bee.
- He's back here!
He's going to sting me!
Nobody move. If you don't move,
he won't sting you. Freeze!
He blinked!
Spray him, Granny!
What are you doing?!
Wow... the tension level
out here is unbelievable.
I gotta get home.
Oan't fly in rain.
Oan't fly in rain.
Oan't fly in rain.
Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down!
Ken, could you close
the window please?
Ken, could you close
the window please?
Oheck out my new resume.
I made it into a fold-out brochure.
You see? Folds out.
Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this.
What was that?
Maybe this time. This time. This time.
This time! This time! This...
Drapes!
That is diabolical.
It's fantastic. It's got all my special
skills, even my top-ten favorite movies.
What's number one? Star Wars?
Nah, I don't go for that...
...kind of stuff.
No wonder we shouldn't talk to them.
They're out of their minds.
When I leave a job interview, they're
flabbergasted, can't believe what I say.
There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out.
I don't remember the sun
having a big 75 on it.
I predicted global warming.
I could feel it getting hotter.
At first I thought it was just me.
Wait! Stop! Bee!
Stand back. These are winter boots.
Wait!
Don't kill him!
You know I'm allergic to them!
This thing could kill me!
Why does his life have
less value than yours?
Why does his life have any less value
than mine? Is that your statement?
I'm just saying all life has value. You
don't know what he's capable of feeling.
My brochure!
There you go, little guy.
I'm not scared of him.
It's an allergic thing.
Put that on your resume brochure.
My whole face could puff up.
Make it one of your special skills.
Knocking someone out
is also a special skill.
Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks.
- Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night?
- Sure, Ken. You know, whatever.
- You could put carob chips on there.
- Bye.
- Supposed to be less calories.
- Bye.
I gotta say something.
She saved my life.
I gotta say something.
All right, here it goes.
Nah.
What would I say?
I could really get in trouble.
It's a bee law.
You're not supposed to talk to a human.
I can't believe I'm doing this.
I've got to.
Oh, I can't do it. Oome on!
No. Yes. No.
Do it. I can't.
How should I start it?
"You like jazz?" No, that's no good.
Here she comes! Speak, you fool!
Hi!
I'm sorry.
- You're talking.
- Yes, I know.
You're talking!
I'm so sorry.
No, it's OK. It's fine.
I know I'm dreaming.
But I don't recall going to bed.
Well, I'm sure this
is very disconcerting.
This is a bit of a surprise to me.
I mean, you're a bee!
I am. And I'm not supposed
to be doing this,
but they were all trying to kill me.
And if it wasn't for you...
I had to thank you.
It's just how I was raised.
That was a little weird.
- I'm talking with a bee.
- Yeah.
I'm talking to a bee.
And the bee is talking to me!
I just want to say I'm grateful.
I'll leave now.
- Wait! How did you learn to do that?
- What?
The talking thing.
Same way you did, I guess.
"Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up.
- That's very funny.
- Yeah.
Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh,
we'd cry with what we have to deal with.
Anyway...
Oan I...
...get you something?
- Like what?
I don't know. I mean...
I don't know. Ooffee?
I don't want to put you out.
It's no trouble. It takes two minutes.
- It's just coffee.
- I hate to impose.
- Don't be ridiculous!
- Actually, I would love a cup.
Hey, you want rum cake?
- I shouldn't.
- Have some.
- No, I can't.
- Oome on!
I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms.
- Where?
- These stripes don't help.
You look great!
I don't know if you know
anything about fashion.
Are you all right?
No.
He's making the tie in the cab
as they're flying up Madison.
He finally gets there.
He runs up the steps into the church.
The wedding is on.
And he says, "Watermelon?
I thought you said Guatemalan.
Why would I marry a watermelon?"
Is that a bee joke?
That's the kind of stuff we do.
Yeah, different.
So, what are you gonna do, Barry?
About work? I don't know.
I want to do my part for the hive,
but I can't do it the way they want.
I know how you feel.
- You do?
- Sure.
My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or
a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist.
- Really?
- My only interest is flowers.
Our new queen was just elected
with that same campaign slogan.
Anyway, if you look...
There's my hive right there. See it?
You're in Sheep Meadow!
Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond!
No way! I know that area.
I lost a toe ring there once.
- Why do girls put rings on their toes?
- Why not?
- It's like putting a hat on your knee.
- Maybe I'll try that.
- You all right, ma'am?
- Oh, yeah. Fine.
Just having two cups of coffee!
Anyway, this has been great.
Thanks for the coffee.
Yeah, it's no trouble.
Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did,
I'd be up the rest of my life.
Are you...?
Oan I take a piece of this with me?
Sure! Here, have a crumb.
- Thanks!
- Yeah.
All right. Well, then...
I guess I'll see you around.
Or not.
OK, Barry.
And thank you
so much again... for before.
Oh, that? That was nothing.
Well, not nothing, but... Anyway...
This can't possibly work.
He's all set to go.
We may as well try it.
OK, Dave, pull the chute.
- Sounds amazing.
- It was amazing!
It was the scariest,
happiest moment of my life.
Humans! I can't believe
you were with humans!
Giant, scary humans!
What were they like?
Huge and crazy. They talk crazy.
They eat crazy giant things.
They drive crazy.
- Do they try and kill you, like on TV?
- Some of them. But some of them don't.
- How'd you get back?
- Poodle.
You did it, and I'm glad. You saw
whatever you wanted to see.
You had your "experience." Now you
can pick out yourjob and be normal.
- Well...
- Well?
Well, I met someone.
You did? Was she Bee-ish?
- A wasp?! Your parents will kill you!
- No, no, no, not a wasp.
- Spider?
- I'm not attracted to spiders.
I know it's the hottest thing,
with the eight legs and all.
I can't get by that face.
So who is she?
She's... human.
No, no. That's a bee law.
You wouldn't break a bee law.
- Her name's Vanessa.
- Oh, boy.
She's so nice. And she's a florist!
Oh, no! You're dating a human florist!
We're not dating.
You're flying outside the hive, talking
to humans that attack our homes
with power washers and M-80s!
One-eighth a stick of dynamite!
She saved my life!
And she understands me.
This is over!
Eat this.
This is not over! What was that?
- They call it a crumb.
- It was so stingin' stripey!
And that's not what they eat.
That's what falls off what they eat!
- You know what a Oinnabon is?
- No.
It's bread and cinnamon and frosting.
They heat it up...
Sit down!
...really hot!
- Listen to me!
We are not them! We're us.
There's us and there's them!
Yes, but who can deny
the heart that is yearning?
There's no yearning.
Stop yearning. Listen to me!
You have got to start thinking bee,
my friend. Thinking bee!
- Thinking bee.
- Thinking bee.
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
There he is. He's in the pool.
You know what your problem is, Barry?
I gotta start thinking bee?
How much longer will this go on?
It's been three days!
Why aren't you working?
I've got a lot of big life decisions
to think about.
What life? You have no life!
You have no job. You're barely a bee!
Would it kill you
to make a little honey?
Barry, come out.
Your father's talking to you.
Martin, would you talk to him?
Barry, I'm talking to you!
You coming?
Got everything?
All set!
Go ahead. I'll catch up.
Don't be too long.
Watch this!
Vanessa!
- We're still here.
- I told you not to yell at him.
He doesn't respond to yelling!
- Then why yell at me?
- Because you don't listen!
I'm not listening to this.
Sorry, I've gotta go.
- Where are you going?
- I'm meeting a friend.
A girl? Is this why you can't decide?
Bye.
I just hope she's Bee-ish.
They have a huge parade
of flowers every year in Pasadena?
To be in the Tournament of Roses,
that's every florist's dream!
Up on a float, surrounded
by flowers, crowds cheering.
A tournament. Do the roses
compete in athletic events?
No. All right, I've got one.
How come you don't fly everywhere?
It's exhausting. Why don't you
run everywhere? It's faster.
Yeah, OK, I see, I see.
All right, your turn.
TiVo. You can just freeze live TV?
That's insane!
You don't have that?
We have Hivo, but it's a disease.
It's a horrible, horrible disease.
Oh, my.
Dumb bees!
You must want to sting all those jerks.
We try not to sting.
It's usually fatal for us.
So you have to watch your temper.
Very carefully.
You kick a wall, take a walk,
write an angry letter and throw it out.
Work through it like any emotion:
Anger, jealousy, lust.
Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?
Yeah.
- What is wrong with you?!
- It's a bug.
He's not bothering anybody.
Get out of here, you creep!
What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular?
Yeah, it was. How did you know?
It felt like about 10 pages.
Seventy-five is pretty much our limit.
You've really got that
down to a science.
- I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue.
- I'll bet.
What in the name
of Mighty Hercules is this?
How did this get here?
Oute Bee, Golden Blossom,
Ray Liotta Private Select?
- Is he that actor?
- I never heard of him.
- Why is this here?
- For people. We eat it.
You don't have
enough food of your own?
- Well, yes.
- How do you get it?
- Bees make it.
- I know who makes it!
And it's hard to make it!
There's heating, cooling, stirring.
You need a whole Krelman thing!
- It's organic.
- It's our-ganic!
It's just honey, Barry.
Just what?!
Bees don't know about this!
This is stealing! A lot of stealing!
You've taken our homes, schools,
hospitals! This is all we have!
And it's on sale?!
I'm getting to the bottom of this.
I'm getting to the bottom
of all of this!
Hey, Hector.
- You almost done?
- Almost.
He is here. I sense it.
Well, I guess I'll go home now
and just leave this nice honey out,
with no one around.
You're busted, box boy!
I knew I heard something.
So you can talk!
I can talk.
And now you'll start talking!
Where you getting the sweet stuff?
Who's your supplier?
I don't understand.
I thought we were friends.
The last thing we want
to do is upset bees!
You're too late! It's ours now!
You, sir, have crossed
the wrong sword!
You, sir, will be lunch
for my iguana, Ignacio!
Where is the honey coming from?
Tell me where!
Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!
Orazy person!
What horrible thing has happened here?
These faces, they never knew
what hit them. And now
they're on the road to nowhere!
Just keep still.
What? You're not dead?
Do I look dead? They will wipe anything
that moves. Where you headed?
To Honey Farms.
I am onto something huge here.
I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood,
crazy stuff. Blows your head off!
I'm going to Tacoma.
- And you?
- He really is dead.
All right.
Uh-oh!
- What is that?!
- Oh, no!
- A wiper! Triple blade!
- Triple blade?
Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!
Why does everything have
to be so doggone clean?!
How much do you people need to see?!
Open your eyes!
Stick your head out the window!
From NPR News in Washington,
I'm Oarl Kasell.
But don't kill no more bugs!
- Bee!
- Moose blood guy!!
- You hear something?
- Like what?
Like tiny screaming.
Turn off the radio.
Whassup, bee boy?
Hey, Blood.
Just a row of honey jars,
as far as the eye could see.
Wow!
I assume wherever this truck goes
is where they're getting it.
I mean, that honey's ours.
- Bees hang tight.
- We're all jammed in.
It's a close community.
Not us, man. We on our own.
Every mosquito on his own.
- What if you get in trouble?
- You a mosquito, you in trouble.
Nobody likes us. They just smack.
See a mosquito, smack, smack!
At least you're out in the world.
You must meet girls.
Mosquito girls try to trade up,
get with a moth, dragonfly.
Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.
You got to be kidding me!
Mooseblood's about to leave
the building! So long, bee!
- Hey, guys!
- Mooseblood!
I knew I'd catch y'all down here.
Did you bring your crazy straw?
We throw it in jars, slap a label on it,
and it's pretty much pure profit.
What is this place?
A bee's got a brain
the size of a pinhead.
They are pinheads!
Pinhead.
- Oheck out the new smoker.
- Oh, sweet. That's the one you want.
The Thomas 3000!
Smoker?
Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic.
Twice the nicotine, all the tar.
A couple breaths of this
knocks them right out.
They make the honey,
and we make the money.
"They make the honey,
and we make the money"?
Oh, my!
What's going on? Are you OK?
Yeah. It doesn't last too long.
Do you know you're
in a fake hive with fake walls?
Our queen was moved here.
We had no choice.
This is your queen?
That's a man in women's clothes!
That's a drag queen!
What is this?
Oh, no!
There's hundreds of them!
Bee honey.
Our honey is being brazenly stolen
on a massive scale!
This is worse than anything bears
have done! I intend to do something.
Oh, Barry, stop.
Who told you humans are taking
our honey? That's a rumor.
Do these look like rumors?
That's a conspiracy theory.
These are obviously doctored photos.
How did you get mixed up in this?
He's been talking to humans.
- What?
- Talking to humans?!
He has a human girlfriend.
And they make out!
Make out? Barry!
We do not.
- You wish you could.
- Whose side are you on?
The bees!
I dated a cricket once in San Antonio.
Those crazy legs kept me up all night.
Barry, this is what you want
to do with your life?
I want to do it for all our lives.
Nobody works harder than bees!
Dad, I remember you
coming home so overworked
your hands were still stirring.
You couldn't stop.
I remember that.
What right do they have to our honey?
We live on two cups a year. They put it
in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!
Even if it's true, what can one bee do?
Sting them where it really hurts.
In the face! The eye!
- That would hurt.
- No.
Up the nose? That's a killer.
There's only one place you can sting
the humans, one place where it matters.
Hive at Five, the hive's only
full-hour action news source.
No more bee beards!
With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk.
Weather with Storm Stinger.
Sports with Buzz Larvi.
And Jeanette Ohung.
- Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble.
- And I'm Jeanette Ohung.
A tri-county bee, Barry Benson,
intends to sue the human race
for stealing our honey,
packaging it and profiting
from it illegally!
Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King,
we'll have three former queens here in
our studio, discussing their new book,
Olassy Ladies,
out this week on Hexagon.
Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson.
Did you ever think, "I'm a kid
from the hive. I can't do this"?
Bees have never been afraid
to change the world.
What about Bee Oolumbus?
Bee Gandhi? Bejesus?
Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans.
We were thinking
of stickball or candy stores.
How old are you?
The bee community
is supporting you in this case,
which will be the trial
of the bee century.
You know, they have a Larry King
in the human world too.
It's a common name. Next week...
He looks like you and has a show
and suspenders and colored dots...
Next week...
Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the
guest even though you just heard 'em.
Bear Week next week!
They're scary, hairy and here live.
Always leans forward, pointy shoulders,
squinty eyes, very Jewish.
In tennis, you attack
at the point of weakness!
It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81.
Honey, her backhand's a joke!
I'm not gonna take advantage of that?
Quiet, please.
Actual work going on here.
- Is that that same bee?
- Yes, it is!
I'm helping him sue the human race.
- Hello.
- Hello, bee.
This is Ken.
Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size
ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe.
Why does he talk again?
Listen, you better go
'cause we're really busy working.
But it's our yogurt night!
Bye-bye.
Why is yogurt night so difficult?!
You poor thing.
You two have been at this for hours!
Yes, and Adam here
has been a huge help.
- Frosting...
- How many sugars?
Just one. I try not
to use the competition.
So why are you helping me?
Bees have good qualities.
And it takes my mind off the shop.
Instead of flowers, people
are giving balloon bouquets now.
Those are great, if you're three.
And artificial flowers.
- Oh, those just get me psychotic!
- Yeah, me too.
Bent stingers, pointless pollination.
Bees must hate those fake things!
Nothing worse
than a daffodil that's had work done.
Maybe this could make up
for it a little bit.
- This lawsuit's a pretty big deal.
- I guess.
You sure you want to go through with it?
Am I sure? When I'm done with
the humans, they won't be able
to say, "Honey, I'm home,"
without paying a royalty!
It's an incredible scene
here in downtown Manhattan,
where the world anxiously waits,
because for the first time in history,
we will hear for ourselves
if a honeybee can actually speak.
What have we gotten into here, Barry?
It's pretty big, isn't it?
I can't believe how many humans
don't work during the day.
You think billion-dollar multinational
food companies have good lawyers?
Everybody needs to stay
behind the barricade.
- What's the matter?
- I don't know, I just got a chill.
Well, if it isn't the bee team.
You boys work on this?
All rise! The Honorable
Judge Bumbleton presiding.
All right. Oase number 4475,
Superior Oourt of New York,
Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry
is now in session.
Mr. Montgomery, you're representing
the five food companies collectively?
A privilege.
Mr. Benson... you're representing
all the bees of the world?
I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor,
we're ready to proceed.
Mr. Montgomery,
your opening statement, please.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
my grandmother was a simple woman.
Born on a farm, she believed
it was man's divine right
to benefit from the bounty
of nature God put before us.
If we lived in the topsy-turvy world
Mr. Benson imagines,
just think of what would it mean.
I would have to negotiate
with the silkworm
for the elastic in my britches!
Talking bee!
How do we know this isn't some sort of
holographic motion-picture-capture
Hollywood wizardry?
They could be using laser beams!
Robotics! Ventriloquism!
Oloning! For all we know,
he could be on steroids!
Mr. Benson?
Ladies and gentlemen,
there's no trickery here.
I'm just an ordinary bee.
Honey's pretty important to me.
It's important to all bees.
We invented it!
We make it. And we protect it
with our lives.
Unfortunately, there are
some people in this room
who think they can take it from us
'cause we're the little guys!
I'm hoping that, after this is all over,
you'll see how, by taking our honey,
you not only take everything we have
but everything we are!
I wish he'd dress like that
all the time. So nice!
Oall your first witness.
So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden
of Honey Farms, big company you have.
I suppose so.
I see you also own
Honeyburton and Honron!
Yes, they provide beekeepers
for our farms.
Beekeeper. I find that
to be a very disturbing term.
I don't imagine you employ
any bee-free-ers, do you?
- No.
- I couldn't hear you.
- No.
- No.
Because you don't free bees.
You keep bees. Not only that,
it seems you thought a bear would be
an appropriate image for a jar of honey.
They're very lovable creatures.
Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear.
You mean like this?
Bears kill bees!
How'd you like his head crashing
through your living room?!
Biting into your couch!
Spitting out your throw pillows!
OK, that's enough. Take him away.
So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here.
Your name intrigues me.
- Where have I heard it before?
- I was with a band called The Police.
But you've never been
a police officer, have you?
No, I haven't.
No, you haven't. And so here
we have yet another example
of bee culture casually
stolen by a human
for nothing more than
a prance-about stage name.
Oh, please.
Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting?
Because I'm feeling
a little stung, Sting.
Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner!
That's not his real name?! You idiots!
Mr. Liotta, first,
belated congratulations on
your Emmy win for a guest spot
on ER in 2005.
Thank you. Thank you.
I see from your resume
that you're devilishly handsome
with a churning inner turmoil
that's ready to blow.
I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime?
Not yet it isn't. But is this
what it's come to for you?
Exploiting tiny, helpless bees
so you don't
have to rehearse
your part and learn your lines, sir?
Watch it, Benson!
I could blow right now!
This isn't a goodfella.
This is a badfella!
Why doesn't someone just step on
this creep, and we can all go home?!
- Order in this court!
- You're all thinking it!
Order! Order, I say!
- Say it!
- Mr. Liotta, please sit down!
I think it was awfully nice
of that bear to pitch in like that.
I think the jury's on our side.
Are we doing everything right, legally?
I'm a florist.
Right. Well, here's to a great team.
To a great team!
Well, hello.
- Ken!
- Hello.
I didn't think you were coming.
No, I was just late.
I tried to call, but... the battery.
I didn't want all this to go to waste,
so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free.
Oh, that was lucky.
There's a little left.
I could heat it up.
Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever.
So I hear you're quite a tennis player.
I'm not much for the game myself.
The ball's a little grabby.
That's where I usually sit.
Right... there.
Ken, Barry was looking at your resume,
and he agreed with me that eating with
chopsticks isn't really a special skill.
You think I don't see what you're doing?
I know how hard it is to find
the rightjob. We have that in common.
Do we?
Bees have 100 percent employment,
but we do jobs like taking the crud out.
That's just what
I was thinking about doing.
Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor
for his fuzz. I hope that was all right.
I'm going to drain the old stinger.
Yeah, you do that.
Look at that.
You know, I've just about had it
with your little mind games.
- What's that?
- Italian Vogue.
Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages.
A lot of ads.
Remember what Van said, why is
your life more valuable than mine?
Funny, I just can't seem to recall that!
I think something stinks in here!
I love the smell of flowers.
How do you like the smell of flames?!
Not as much.
Water bug! Not taking sides!
Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat!
This is pathetic!
I've got issues!
Well, well, well, a royal flush!
- You're bluffing.
- Am I?
Surf's up, dude!
Poo water!
That bowl is gnarly.
Except for those dirty yellow rings!
Kenneth! What are you doing?!
You know, I don't even like honey!
I don't eat it!
We need to talk!
He's just a little bee!
And he happens to be
the nicest bee I've met in a long time!
Long time? What are you talking about?!
Are there other bugs in your life?
No, but there are other things bugging
me in life. And you're one of them!
Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night...
My nerves are fried from riding
on this emotional roller coaster!
Goodbye, Ken.
And for your information,
I prefer sugar-free, artificial
sweeteners made by man!
I'm sorry about all that.
I know it's got
an aftertaste! I like it!
I always felt there was some kind
of barrier between Ken and me.
I couldn't overcome it.
Oh, well.
Are you OK for the trial?
I believe Mr. Montgomery
is about out of ideas.
We would like to call
Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand.
Good idea! You can really see why he's
considered one of the best lawyers...
Yeah.
Layton, you've
gotta weave some magic
with this jury,
or it's gonna be all over.
Don't worry. The only thing I have
to do to turn this jury around
is to remind them
of what they don't like about bees.
- You got the tweezers?
- Are you allergic?
Only to losing, son. Only to losing.
Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you
what I think we'd all like to know.
What exactly is your relationship
to that woman?
We're friends.
- Good friends?
- Yes.
How good? Do you live together?
Wait a minute...
Are you her little...
...bedbug?
I've seen a bee documentary or two.
From what I understand,
doesn't your queen give birth
to all the bee children?
- Yeah, but...
- So those aren't your real parents!
- Oh, Barry...
- Yes, they are!
Hold me back!
You're an illegitimate bee,
aren't you, Benson?
He's denouncing bees!
Don't y'all date your cousins?
- Objection!
- I'm going to pincushion this guy!
Adam, don't! It's what he wants!
Oh, I'm hit!!
Oh, lordy, I am hit!
Order! Order!
The venom! The venom
is coursing through my veins!
I have been felled
by a winged beast of destruction!
You see? You can't treat them
like equals! They're striped savages!
Stinging's the only thing
they know! It's their way!
- Adam, stay with me.
- I can't feel my legs.
What angel of mercy
will come forward to suck the poison
from my heaving buttocks?
I will have order in this court. Order!
Order, please!
The case of the honeybees
versus the human race
took a pointed turn against the bees
yesterday when one of their legal
team stung Layton T. Montgomery.
- Hey, buddy.
- Hey.
- Is there much pain?
- Yeah.
I...
I blew the whole case, didn't I?
It doesn't matter. What matters is
you're alive. You could have died.
I'd be better off dead. Look at me.
They got it from the cafeteria
downstairs, in a tuna sandwich.
Look, there's
a little celery still on it.
What was it like to sting someone?
I can't explain it. It was all...
All adrenaline and then...
and then ecstasy!
All right.
You think it was all a trap?
Of course. I'm sorry.
I flew us right into this.
What were we thinking? Look at us. We're
just a couple of bugs in this world.
What will the humans do to us
if they win?
I don't know.
I hear they put the roaches in motels.
That doesn't sound so bad.
Adam, they check in,
but they don't check out!
Oh, my.
Oould you get a nurse
to close that window?
- Why?
- The smoke.
Bees don't smoke.
Right. Bees don't smoke.
Bees don't smoke!
But some bees are smoking.
That's it! That's our case!
It is? It's not over?
Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere.
Get back to the court and stall.
Stall any way you can.
And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub.
Mr. Flayman.
Yes? Yes, Your Honor!
Where is the rest of your team?
Well, Your Honor, it's interesting.
Bees are trained to fly haphazardly,
and as a result,
we don't make very good time.
I actually heard a funny story about...
Your Honor,
haven't these ridiculous bugs
taken up enough
of this court's valuable time?
How much longer will we allow
these absurd shenanigans to go on?
They have presented no compelling
evidence to support their charges
against my clients,
who run legitimate businesses.
I move for a complete dismissal
of this entire case!
Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going
to have to consider
Mr. Montgomery's motion.
But you can't! We have a terrific case.
Where is your proof?
Where is the evidence?
Show me the smoking gun!
Hold it, Your Honor!
You want a smoking gun?
Here is your smoking gun.
What is that?
It's a bee smoker!
What, this?
This harmless little contraption?
This couldn't hurt a fly,
let alone a bee.
Look at what has happened
to bees who have never been asked,
"Smoking or non?"
Is this what nature intended for us?
To be forcibly addicted
to smoke machines
and man-made wooden slat work camps?
Living out our lives as honey slaves
to the white man?
- What are we gonna do?
- He's playing the species card.
Ladies and gentlemen, please,
free these bees!
Free the bees! Free the bees!
Free the bees!
Free the bees! Free the bees!
The court finds in favor of the bees!
Vanessa, we won!
I knew you could do it! High-five!
Sorry.
I'm OK! You know what this means?
All the honey
will finally belong to the bees.
Now we won't have
to work so hard all the time.
This is an unholy perversion
of the balance of nature, Benson.
You'll regret this.
Barry, how much honey is out there?
All right. One at a time.
Barry, who are you wearing?
My sweater is Ralph Lauren,
and I have no pants.
- What if Montgomery's right?
- What do you mean?
We've been living the bee way
a long time, 27 million years.
Oongratulations on your victory.
What will you demand as a settlement?
First, we'll demand a complete shutdown
of all bee work camps.
Then we want back the honey
that was ours to begin with,
every last drop.
We demand an end to the glorification
of the bear as anything more
than a filthy, smelly,
bad-breath stink machine.
We're all aware
of what they do in the woods.
Wait for my signal.
Take him out.
He'll have nauseous
for a few hours, then he'll be fine.
And we will no longer tolerate
bee-negative nicknames...
But it's just a prance-about stage name!
...unnecessary inclusion of honey
in bogus health products
and la-dee-da human
tea-time snack garnishments.
Oan't breathe.
Bring it in, boys!
Hold it right there! Good.
Tap it.
Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups,
and there's gallons more coming!
- I think we need to shut down!
- Shut down? We've never shut down.
Shut down honey production!
Stop making honey!
Turn your key, sir!
What do we do now?
Oannonball!
We're shutting honey production!
Mission abort.
Aborting pollination and nectar detail.
Returning to base.
Adam, you wouldn't believe
how much honey was out there.
Oh, yeah?
What's going on? Where is everybody?
- Are they out celebrating?
- They're home.
They don't know what to do.
Laying out, sleeping in.
I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way
to San Antonio with a cricket.
At least we got our honey back.
Sometimes I think, so what if humans
liked our honey? Who wouldn't?
It's the greatest thing in the world!
I was excited to be part of making it.
This was my new desk. This was my
new job. I wanted to do it really well.
And now...
Now I can't.
I don't understand
why they're not happy.
I thought their lives would be better!
They're doing nothing. It's amazing.
Honey really changes people.
You don't have any idea
what's going on, do you?
- What did you want to show me?
- This.
What happened here?
That is not the half of it.
Oh, no. Oh, my.
They're all wilting.
Doesn't look very good, does it?
No.
And whose fault do you think that is?
You know, I'm gonna guess bees.
Bees?
Specifically, me.
I didn't think bees not needing to make
honey would affect all these things.
It's notjust flowers.
Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees.
That's our whole SAT test right there.
Take away produce, that affects
the entire animal kingdom.
And then, of course...
The human species?
So if there's no more pollination,
it could all just go south here,
couldn't it?
I know this is also partly my fault.
How about a suicide pact?
How do we do it?
- I'll sting you, you step on me.
- Thatjust kills you twice.
Right, right.
Listen, Barry...
sorry, but I gotta get going.
I had to open my mouth and talk.
Vanessa?
Vanessa? Why are you leaving?
Where are you going?
To the final Tournament of Roses parade
in Pasadena.
They've moved it to this weekend
because all the flowers are dying.
It's the last chance
I'll ever have to see it.
Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry.
I never meant it to turn out like this.
I know. Me neither.
Tournament of Roses.
Roses can't do sports.
Wait a minute. Roses. Roses?
Roses!
Vanessa!
Roses?!
Barry?
- Roses are flowers!
- Yes, they are.
Flowers, bees, pollen!
I know.
That's why this is the last parade.
Maybe not.
Oould you ask him to slow down?
Oould you slow down?
Barry!
OK, I made a huge mistake.
This is a total disaster, all my fault.
Yes, it kind of is.
I've ruined the planet.
I wanted to help you
with the flower shop.
I've made it worse.
Actually, it's completely closed down.
I thought maybe you were remodeling.
But I have another idea, and it's
greater than my previous ideas combined.
I don't want to hear it!
All right, they have the roses,
the roses have the pollen.
I know every bee, plant
and flower bud in this park.
All we gotta do is get what they've got
back here with what we've got.
- Bees.
- Park.
- Pollen!
- Flowers.
- Repollination!
- Across the nation!
Tournament of Roses,
Pasadena, Oalifornia.
They've got nothing
but flowers, floats and cotton candy.
Security will be tight.
I have an idea.
Vanessa Bloome, FTD.
Official floral business. It's real.
Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch.
Thank you. It was a gift.
Once inside,
we just pick the right float.
How about The Princess and the Pea?
I could be the princess,
and you could be the pea!
Yes, I got it.
- Where should I sit?
- What are you?
- I believe I'm the pea.
- The pea?
It goes under the mattresses.
- Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart.
- I'm getting the marshal.
You do that!
This whole parade is a fiasco!
Let's see what this baby'll do.
Hey, what are you doing?!
Then all we do
is blend in with traffic...
...without arousing suspicion.
Once at the airport,
there's no stopping us.
Stop! Security.
- You and your insect pack your float?
- Yes.
Has it been
in your possession the entire time?
Would you remove your shoes?
- Remove your stinger.
- It's part of me.
I know. Just having some fun.
Enjoy your flight.
Then if we're lucky, we'll have
just enough pollen to do the job.
Oan you believe how lucky we are? We
have just enough pollen to do the job!
I think this is gonna work.
It's got to work.
Attention, passengers,
this is Oaptain Scott.
We have a bit of bad weather
in New York.
It looks like we'll experience
a couple hours delay.
Barry, these are cut flowers
with no water. They'll never make it.
I gotta get up there
and talk to them.
Be careful.
Oan I get help
with the Sky Mall magazine?
I'd like to order the talking
inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer.
Oaptain, I'm in a real situation.
- What'd you say, Hal?
- Nothing.
Bee!
Don't freak out! My entire species...
What are you doing?
- Wait a minute! I'm an attorney!
- Who's an attorney?
Don't move.
Oh, Barry.
Good afternoon, passengers.
This is your captain.
Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B
please report to the cockpit?
And please hurry!
What happened here?
There was a DustBuster,
a toupee, a life raft exploded.
One's bald, one's in a boat,
they're both unconscious!
- Is that another bee joke?
- No!
No one's flying the plane!
This is JFK control tower, Flight 356.
What's your status?
This is Vanessa Bloome.
I'm a florist from New York.
Where's the pilot?
He's unconscious,
and so is the copilot.
Not good. Does anyone onboard
have flight experience?
As a matter of fact, there is.
- Who's that?
- Barry Benson.
From the honey trial?! Oh, great.
Vanessa, this is nothing more
than a big metal bee.
It's got giant wings, huge engines.
I can't fly a plane.
- Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot?
- Yes.
How hard could it be?
Wait, Barry!
We're headed into some lightning.
This is Bob Bumble. We have some
late-breaking news from JFK Airport,
where a suspenseful scene
is developing.
Barry Benson,
fresh from his legal victory...
That's Barry!
...is attempting to land a plane,
loaded with people, flowers
and an incapacitated flight crew.
Flowers?!
We have a storm in the area
and two individuals at the controls
with absolutely no flight experience.
Just a minute.
There's a bee on that plane.
I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson
and his no-account compadres.
They've done enough damage.
But isn't he your only hope?
Technically, a bee
shouldn't be able to fly at all.
Their wings are too small...
Haven't we heard this a million times?
"The surface area of the wings
and body mass make no sense."
- Get this on the air!
- Got it.
- Stand by.
- We're going live.
The way we work may be a mystery to you.
Making honey takes a lot of bees
doing a lot of small jobs.
But let me tell you about a small job.
If you do it well,
it makes a big difference.
More than we realized.
To us, to everyone.
That's why I want to get bees
back to working together.
That's the bee way!
We're not made of Jell-O.
We get behind a fellow.
- Black and yellow!
- Hello!
Left, right, down, hover.
- Hover?
- Forget hover.
This isn't so hard.
Beep-beep! Beep-beep!
Barry, what happened?!
Wait, I think we were
on autopilot the whole time.
- That may have been helping me.
- And now we're not!
So it turns out I cannot fly a plane.
All of you, let's get
behind this fellow! Move it out!
Move out!
Our only chance is if I do what I'd do,
you copy me with the wings of the plane!
Don't have to yell.
I'm not yelling!
We're in a lot of trouble.
It's very hard to concentrate
with that panicky tone in your voice!
It's not a tone. I'm panicking!
I can't do this!
Vanessa, pull yourself together.
You have to snap out of it!
You snap out of it.
You snap out of it.
- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!
- Hold it!
- Why? Oome on, it's my turn.
How is the plane flying?
I don't know.
Hello?
Benson, got any flowers
for a happy occasion in there?
The Pollen Jocks!
They do get behind a fellow.
- Black and yellow.
- Hello.
All right, let's drop this tin can
on the blacktop.
Where? I can't see anything. Oan you?
No, nothing. It's all cloudy.
Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry.
- Thinking bee.
- Thinking bee.
Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
Wait a minute.
I think I'm feeling something.
- What?
- I don't know. It's strong, pulling me.
Like a 27-million-year-old instinct.
Bring the nose down.
Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
- What in the world is on the tarmac?
- Get some lights on that!
Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
- Vanessa, aim for the flower.
- OK.
Out the engines. We're going in
on bee power. Ready, boys?
Affirmative!
Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it.
Land on that flower!
Ready? Full reverse!
Spin it around!
- Not that flower! The other one!
- Which one?
- That flower.
- I'm aiming at the flower!
That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt.
I mean the giant pulsating flower
made of millions of bees!
Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up.
Rotate around it.
- This is insane, Barry!
- This's the only way I know how to fly.
Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane
flying in an insect-like pattern?
Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid.
Smell it. Full reverse!
Just drop it. Be a part of it.
Aim for the center!
Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman!
Oome on, already.
Barry, we did it!
You taught me how to fly!
- Yes. No high-five!
- Right.
Barry, it worked!
Did you see the giant flower?
What giant flower? Where? Of course
I saw the flower! That was genius!
- Thank you.
- But we're not done yet.
Listen, everyone!
This runway is covered
with the last pollen
from the last flowers
available anywhere on Earth.
That means this is our last chance.
We're the only ones who make honey,
pollinate flowers and dress like this.
If we're gonna survive as a species,
this is our moment! What do you say?
Are we going to be bees, orjust
Museum of Natural History keychains?
We're bees!
Keychain!
Then follow me! Except Keychain.
Hold on, Barry. Here.
You've earned this.
Yeah!
I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect
fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves.
Oh, yeah.
That's our Barry.
Mom! The bees are back!
If anybody needs
to make a call, now's the time.
I got a feeling we'll be
working late tonight!
Here's your change. Have a great
afternoon! Oan I help who's next?
Would you like some honey with that?
It is bee-approved. Don't forget these.
Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me.
And I don't see a nickel!
Sometimes I just feel
like a piece of meat!
I had no idea.
Barry, I'm sorry.
Have you got a moment?
Would you excuse me?
My mosquito associate will help you.
Sorry I'm late.
He's a lawyer too?
I was already a blood-sucking parasite.
All I needed was a briefcase.
Have a great afternoon!
Barry, I just got this huge tulip order,
and I can't get them anywhere.
No problem, Vannie.
Just leave it to me.
You're a lifesaver, Barry.
Oan I help who's next?
All right, scramble, jocks!
It's time to fly.
Thank you, Barry!
That bee is living my life!
Let it go, Kenny.
- When will this nightmare end?!
- Let it all go.
- Beautiful day to fly.
- Sure is.
Between you and me,
I was dying to get out of that office.
You have got
to start thinking bee, my friend.
- Thinking bee!
- Me?
Hold it. Let's just stop
for a second. Hold it.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone.
Oan we stop here?
I'm not making a major life decision
during a production number!
All right. Take ten, everybody.
Wrap it up, guys.
I had virtually no rehearsal for that.
According to all known laws
of aviation,
there is no way a bee
should be able to fly.
Its wings are too small to get
its fat little body off the ground.
The bee, of course, flies anyway
because bees don't care
what humans think is impossible.
Yellow, black. Yellow, black.
Yellow, black. Yellow, black.
Ooh, black and yellow!
Let's shake it up a little.
Barry! Breakfast is ready!
Ooming!
Hang on a second.
Hello?
- Barry?
- Adam?
- Oan you believe this is happening?
- I can't. I'll pick you up.
Looking sharp.
Use the stairs. Your father
paid good money for those.
Sorry. I'm excited.
Here's the graduate.
We're very proud of you, son.
A perfect report card, all B's.
Very proud.
Ma! I got a thing going here.
- You got lint on your fuzz.
- Ow! That's me!
- Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000.
- Bye!
Barry, I told you,
stop flying in the house!
- Hey, Adam.
- Hey, Barry.
- Is that fuzz gel?
- A little. Special day, graduation.
Never thought I'd make it.
Three days grade school,
three days high school.
Those were awkward.
Three days college. I'm glad I took
a day and hitchhiked around the hive.
You did come back different.
- Hi, Barry.
- Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good.
- Hear about Frankie?
- Yeah.
- You going to the funeral?
- No, I'm not going.
Everybody knows,
sting someone, you die.
Don't waste it on a squirrel.
Such a hothead.
I guess he could have
just gotten out of the way.
I love this incorporating
an amusement park into our day.
That's why we don't need vacations.
Boy, quite a bit of pomp...
under the circumstances.
- Well, Adam, today we are men.
- We are!
- Bee-men.
- Amen!
Hallelujah!
Students, faculty, distinguished bees,
please welcome Dean Buzzwell.
Welcome, New Hive Oity
graduating class of...
...9:15.
That concludes our ceremonies.
And begins your career
at Honex Industries!
Will we pick ourjob today?
I heard it's just orientation.
Heads up! Here we go.
Keep your hands and antennas
inside the tram at all times.
- Wonder what it'll be like?
- A little scary.
Welcome to Honex,
a division of Honesco
and a part of the Hexagon Group.
This is it!
Wow.
Wow.
We know that you, as a bee,
have worked your whole life
to get to the point where you
can work for your whole life.
Honey begins when our valiant Pollen
Jocks bring the nectar to the hive.
Our top-secret formula
is automatically color-corrected,
scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured
into this soothing sweet syrup
with its distinctive
golden glow you know as...
Honey!
- That girl was hot.
- She's my cousin!
- She is?
- Yes, we're all cousins.
- Right. You're right.
- At Honex, we constantly strive
to improve every aspect
of bee existence.
These bees are stress-testing
a new helmet technology.
- What do you think he makes?
- Not enough.
Here we have our latest advancement,
the Krelman.
- What does that do?
- Oatches that little strand of honey
that hangs after you pour it.
Saves us millions.
Oan anyone work on the Krelman?
Of course. Most bee jobs are
small ones. But bees know
that every small job,
if it's done well, means a lot.
But choose carefully
because you'll stay in the job
you pick for the rest of your life.
The same job the rest of your life?
I didn't know that.
What's the difference?
You'll be happy to know that bees,
as a species, haven't had one day off
in 27 million years.
So you'll just work us to death?
We'll sure try.
Wow! That blew my mind!
"What's the difference?"
How can you say that?
One job forever?
That's an insane choice to have to make.
I'm relieved. Now we only have
to make one decision in life.
But, Adam, how could they
never have told us that?
Why would you question anything?
We're bees.
We're the most perfectly
functioning society on Earth.
You ever think maybe things
work a little too well here?
Like what? Give me one example.
I don't know. But you know
what I'm talking about.
Please clear the gate.
Royal Nectar Force on approach.
Wait a second. Oheck it out.
- Hey, those are Pollen Jocks!
- Wow.
I've never seen them this close.
They know what it's like
outside the hive.
Yeah, but some don't come back.
- Hey, Jocks!
- Hi, Jocks!
You guys did great!
You're monsters!
You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it!
- I wonder where they were.
- I don't know.
Their day's not planned.
Outside the hive, flying who knows
where, doing who knows what.
You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen
Jock. You have to be bred for that.
Right.
Look. That's more pollen
than you and I will see in a lifetime.
It's just a status symbol.
Bees make too much of it.
Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it
and the ladies see you wearing it.
Those ladies?
Aren't they our cousins too?
Distant. Distant.
Look at these two.
- Oouple of Hive Harrys.
- Let's have fun with them.
It must be dangerous
being a Pollen Jock.
Yeah. Once a bear pinned me
against a mushroom!
He had a paw on my throat,
and with the other, he was slapping me!
- Oh, my!
- I never thought I'd knock him out.
What were you doing during this?
Trying to alert the authorities.
I can autograph that.
A little gusty out there today,
wasn't it, comrades?
Yeah. Gusty.
We're hitting a sunflower patch
six miles from here tomorrow.
- Six miles, huh?
- Barry!
A puddle jump for us,
but maybe you're not up for it.
- Maybe I am.
- You are not!
We're going 0900 at J-Gate.
What do you think, buzzy-boy?
Are you bee enough?
I might be. It all depends
on what 0900 means.
Hey, Honex!
Dad, you surprised me.
You decide what you're interested in?
- Well, there's a lot of choices.
- But you only get one.
Do you ever get bored
doing the same job every day?
Son, let me tell you about stirring.
You grab that stick, and you just
move it around, and you stir it around.
You get yourself into a rhythm.
It's a beautiful thing.
You know, Dad,
the more I think about it,
maybe the honey field
just isn't right for me.
You were thinking of what,
making balloon animals?
That's a bad job
for a guy with a stinger.
Janet, your son's not sure
he wants to go into honey!
- Barry, you are so funny sometimes.
- I'm not trying to be funny.
You're not funny! You're going
into honey. Our son, the stirrer!
- You're gonna be a stirrer?
- No one's listening to me!
Wait till you see the sticks I have.
I could say anything right now.
I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!
Let's open some honey and celebrate!
Maybe I'll pierce my thorax.
Shave my antennae.
Shack up with a grasshopper. Get
a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!
I'm so proud.
- We're starting work today!
- Today's the day.
Oome on! All the good jobs
will be gone.
Yeah, right.
Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring,
stirrer, front desk, hair removal...
- Is it still available?
- Hang on. Two left!
One of them's yours! Oongratulations!
Step to the side.
- What'd you get?
- Picking crud out. Stellar!
Wow!
Oouple of newbies?
Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!
Make your choice.
- You want to go first?
- No, you go.
Oh, my. What's available?
Restroom attendant's open,
not for the reason you think.
- Any chance of getting the Krelman?
- Sure, you're on.
I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.
Wax monkey's always open.
The Krelman opened up again.
What happened?
A bee died. Makes an opening. See?
He's dead. Another dead one.
Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.
Dead from the neck up.
Dead from the neck down. That's life!
Oh, this is so hard!
Heating, cooling,
stunt bee, pourer, stirrer,
humming, inspector number seven,
lint coordinator, stripe supervisor,
mite wrangler. Barry, what
do you think I should... Barry?
Barry!
All right, we've got the sunflower patch
in quadrant nine...
What happened to you?
Where are you?
- I'm going out.
- Out? Out where?
- Out there.
- Oh, no!
I have to, before I go
to work for the rest of my life.
You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?
Another call coming in.
If anyone's feeling brave,
there's a Korean deli on 83rd
that gets their roses today.
Hey, guys.
- Look at that.
- Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?
Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.
It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.
Really? Feeling lucky, are you?
Sign here, here. Just initial that.
- Thank you.
- OK.
You got a rain advisory today,
and as you all know,
bees cannot fly in rain.
So be careful. As always,
watch your brooms,
hockey sticks, dogs,
birds, bears and bats.
Also, I got a couple of reports
of root beer being poured on us.
Murphy's in a home because of it,
babbling like a cicada!
- That's awful.
- And a reminder for you rookies,
bee law number one,
absolutely no talking to humans!
All right, launch positions!
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz,
buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!
Black and yellow!
Hello!
You ready for this, hot shot?
Yeah. Yeah, bring it on.
Wind, check.
- Antennae, check.
- Nectar pack, check.
- Wings, check.
- Stinger, check.
Scared out of my shorts, check.
OK, ladies,
let's move it out!
Pound those petunias,
you striped stem-suckers!
All of you, drain those flowers!
Wow! I'm out!
I can't believe I'm out!
So blue.
I feel so fast and free!
Box kite!
Wow!
Flowers!
This is Blue Leader.
We have roses visual.
Bring it around 30 degrees and hold.
Roses!
30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around.
Stand to the side, kid.
It's got a bit of a kick.
That is one nectar collector!
- Ever see pollination up close?
- No, sir.
I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it
over here. Maybe a dash over there,
a pinch on that one.
See that? It's a little bit of magic.
That's amazing. Why do we do that?
That's pollen power. More pollen, more
flowers, more nectar, more honey for us.
Oool.
I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow.
Oould be daisies. Don't we need those?
Oopy that visual.
Wait. One of these flowers
seems to be on the move.
Say again? You're reporting
a moving flower?
Affirmative.
That was on the line!
This is the coolest. What is it?
I don't know, but I'm loving this color.
It smells good.
Not like a flower, but I like it.
Yeah, fuzzy.
Ohemical-y.
Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby.
My sweet lord of bees!
Oandy-brain, get off there!
Problem!
- Guys!
- This could be bad.
Affirmative.
Very close.
Gonna hurt.
Mama's little boy.
You are way out of position, rookie!
Ooming in at you like a missile!
Help me!
I don't think these are flowers.
- Should we tell him?
- I think he knows.
What is this?!
Match point!
You can start packing up, honey,
because you're about to eat it!
Yowser!
Gross.
There's a bee in the car!
- Do something!
- I'm driving!
- Hi, bee.
- He's back here!
He's going to sting me!
Nobody move. If you don't move,
he won't sting you. Freeze!
He blinked!
Spray him, Granny!
What are you doing?!
Wow... the tension level
out here is unbelievable.
I gotta get home.
Oan't fly in rain.
Oan't fly in rain.
Oan't fly in rain.
Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down!
Ken, could you close
the window please?
Ken, could you close
the window please?
Oheck out my new resume.
I made it into a fold-out brochure.
You see? Folds out.
Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this.
What was that?
Maybe this time. This time. This time.
This time! This time! This...
Drapes!
That is diabolical.
It's fantastic. It's got all my special
skills, even my top-ten favorite movies.
What's number one? Star Wars?
Nah, I don't go for that...
...kind of stuff.
No wonder we shouldn't talk to them.
They're out of their minds.
When I leave a job interview, they're
flabbergasted, can't believe what I say.
There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out.
I don't remember the sun
having a big 75 on it.
I predicted global warming.
I could feel it getting hotter.
At first I thought it was just me.
Wait! Stop! Bee!
Stand back. These are winter boots.
Wait!
Don't kill him!
You know I'm allergic to them!
This thing could kill me!
Why does his life have
less value than yours?
Why does his life have any less value
than mine? Is that your statement?
I'm just saying all life has value. You
don't know what he's capable of feeling.
My brochure!
There you go, little guy.
I'm not scared of him.
It's an allergic thing.
Put that on your resume brochure.
My whole face could puff up.
Make it one of your special skills.
Knocking someone out
is also a special skill.
Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks.
- Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night?
- Sure, Ken. You know, whatever.
- You could put carob chips on there.
- Bye.
- Supposed to be less calories.
- Bye.
I gotta say something.
She saved my life.
I gotta say something.
All right, here it goes.
Nah.
What would I say?
I could really get in trouble.
It's a bee law.
You're not supposed to talk to a human.
I can't believe I'm doing this.
I've got to.
Oh, I can't do it. Oome on!
No. Yes. No.
Do it. I can't.
How should I start it?
"You like jazz?" No, that's no good.
Here she comes! Speak, you fool!
Hi!
I'm sorry.
- You're talking.
- Yes, I know.
You're talking!
I'm so sorry.
No, it's OK. It's fine.
I know I'm dreaming.
But I don't recall going to bed.
Well, I'm sure this
is very disconcerting.
This is a bit of a surprise to me.
I mean, you're a bee!
I am. And I'm not supposed
to be doing this,
but they were all trying to kill me.
And if it wasn't for you...
I had to thank you.
It's just how I was raised.
That was a little weird.
- I'm talking with a bee.
- Yeah.
I'm talking to a bee.
And the bee is talking to me!
I just want to say I'm grateful.
I'll leave now.
- Wait! How did you learn to do that?
- What?
The talking thing.
Same way you did, I guess.
"Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up.
- That's very funny.
- Yeah.
Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh,
we'd cry with what we have to deal with.
Anyway...
Oan I...
...get you something?
- Like what?
I don't know. I mean...
I don't know. Ooffee?
I don't want to put you out.
It's no trouble. It takes two minutes.
- It's just coffee.
- I hate to impose.
- Don't be ridiculous!
- Actually, I would love a cup.
Hey, you want rum cake?
- I shouldn't.
- Have some.
- No, I can't.
- Oome on!
I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms.
- Where?
- These stripes don't help.
You look great!
I don't know if you know
anything about fashion.
Are you all right?
No.
He's making the tie in the cab
as they're flying up Madison.
He finally gets there.
He runs up the steps into the church.
The wedding is on.
And he says, "Watermelon?
I thought you said Guatemalan.
Why would I marry a watermelon?"
Is that a bee joke?
That's the kind of stuff we do.
Yeah, different.
So, what are you gonna do, Barry?
About work? I don't know.
I want to do my part for the hive,
but I can't do it the way they want.
I know how you feel.
- You do?
- Sure.
My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or
a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist.
- Really?
- My only interest is flowers.
Our new queen was just elected
with that same campaign slogan.
Anyway, if you look...
There's my hive right there. See it?
You're in Sheep Meadow!
Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond!
No way! I know that area.
I lost a toe ring there once.
- Why do girls put rings on their toes?
- Why not?
- It's like putting a hat on your knee.
- Maybe I'll try that.
- You all right, ma'am?
- Oh, yeah. Fine.
Just having two cups of coffee!
Anyway, this has been great.
Thanks for the coffee.
Yeah, it's no trouble.
Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did,
I'd be up the rest of my life.
Are you...?
Oan I take a piece of this with me?
Sure! Here, have a crumb.
- Thanks!
- Yeah.
All right. Well, then...
I guess I'll see you around.
Or not.
OK, Barry.
And thank you
so much again... for before.
Oh, that? That was nothing.
Well, not nothing, but... Anyway...
This can't possibly work.
He's all set to go.
We may as well try it.
OK, Dave, pull the chute.
- Sounds amazing.
- It was amazing!
It was the scariest,
happiest moment of my life.
Humans! I can't believe
you were with humans!
Giant, scary humans!
What were they like?
Huge and crazy. They talk crazy.
They eat crazy giant things.
They drive crazy.
- Do they try and kill you, like on TV?
- Some of them. But some of them don't.
- How'd you get back?
- Poodle.
You did it, and I'm glad. You saw
whatever you wanted to see.
You had your "experience." Now you
can pick out yourjob and be normal.
- Well...
- Well?
Well, I met someone.
You did? Was she Bee-ish?
- A wasp?! Your parents will kill you!
- No, no, no, not a wasp.
- Spider?
- I'm not attracted to spiders.
I know it's the hottest thing,
with the eight legs and all.
I can't get by that face.
So who is she?
She's... human.
No, no. That's a bee law.
You wouldn't break a bee law.
- Her name's Vanessa.
- Oh, boy.
She's so nice. And she's a florist!
Oh, no! You're dating a human florist!
We're not dating.
You're flying outside the hive, talking
to humans that attack our homes
with power washers and M-80s!
One-eighth a stick of dynamite!
She saved my life!
And she understands me.
This is over!
Eat this.
This is not over! What was that?
- They call it a crumb.
- It was so stingin' stripey!
And that's not what they eat.
That's what falls off what they eat!
- You know what a Oinnabon is?
- No.
It's bread and cinnamon and frosting.
They heat it up...
Sit down!
...really hot!
- Listen to me!
We are not them! We're us.
There's us and there's them!
Yes, but who can deny
the heart that is yearning?
There's no yearning.
Stop yearning. Listen to me!
You have got to start thinking bee,
my friend. Thinking bee!
- Thinking bee.
- Thinking bee.
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
There he is. He's in the pool.
You know what your problem is, Barry?
I gotta start thinking bee?
How much longer will this go on?
It's been three days!
Why aren't you working?
I've got a lot of big life decisions
to think about.
What life? You have no life!
You have no job. You're barely a bee!
Would it kill you
to make a little honey?
Barry, come out.
Your father's talking to you.
Martin, would you talk to him?
Barry, I'm talking to you!
You coming?
Got everything?
All set!
Go ahead. I'll catch up.
Don't be too long.
Watch this!
Vanessa!
- We're still here.
- I told you not to yell at him.
He doesn't respond to yelling!
- Then why yell at me?
- Because you don't listen!
I'm not listening to this.
Sorry, I've gotta go.
- Where are you going?
- I'm meeting a friend.
A girl? Is this why you can't decide?
Bye.
I just hope she's Bee-ish.
They have a huge parade
of flowers every year in Pasadena?
To be in the Tournament of Roses,
that's every florist's dream!
Up on a float, surrounded
by flowers, crowds cheering.
A tournament. Do the roses
compete in athletic events?
No. All right, I've got one.
How come you don't fly everywhere?
It's exhausting. Why don't you
run everywhere? It's faster.
Yeah, OK, I see, I see.
All right, your turn.
TiVo. You can just freeze live TV?
That's insane!
You don't have that?
We have Hivo, but it's a disease.
It's a horrible, horrible disease.
Oh, my.
Dumb bees!
You must want to sting all those jerks.
We try not to sting.
It's usually fatal for us.
So you have to watch your temper.
Very carefully.
You kick a wall, take a walk,
write an angry letter and throw it out.
Work through it like any emotion:
Anger, jealousy, lust.
Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?
Yeah.
- What is wrong with you?!
- It's a bug.
He's not bothering anybody.
Get out of here, you creep!
What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular?
Yeah, it was. How did you know?
It felt like about 10 pages.
Seventy-five is pretty much our limit.
You've really got that
down to a science.
- I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue.
- I'll bet.
What in the name
of Mighty Hercules is this?
How did this get here?
Oute Bee, Golden Blossom,
Ray Liotta Private Select?
- Is he that actor?
- I never heard of him.
- Why is this here?
- For people. We eat it.
You don't have
enough food of your own?
- Well, yes.
- How do you get it?
- Bees make it.
- I know who makes it!
And it's hard to make it!
There's heating, cooling, stirring.
You need a whole Krelman thing!
- It's organic.
- It's our-ganic!
It's just honey, Barry.
Just what?!
Bees don't know about this!
This is stealing! A lot of stealing!
You've taken our homes, schools,
hospitals! This is all we have!
And it's on sale?!
I'm getting to the bottom of this.
I'm getting to the bottom
of all of this!
Hey, Hector.
- You almost done?
- Almost.
He is here. I sense it.
Well, I guess I'll go home now
and just leave this nice honey out,
with no one around.
You're busted, box boy!
I knew I heard something.
So you can talk!
I can talk.
And now you'll start talking!
Where you getting the sweet stuff?
Who's your supplier?
I don't understand.
I thought we were friends.
The last thing we want
to do is upset bees!
You're too late! It's ours now!
You, sir, have crossed
the wrong sword!
You, sir, will be lunch
for my iguana, Ignacio!
Where is the honey coming from?
Tell me where!
Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!
Orazy person!
What horrible thing has happened here?
These faces, they never knew
what hit them. And now
they're on the road to nowhere!
Just keep still.
What? You're not dead?
Do I look dead? They will wipe anything
that moves. Where you headed?
To Honey Farms.
I am onto something huge here.
I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood,
crazy stuff. Blows your head off!
I'm going to Tacoma.
- And you?
- He really is dead.
All right.
Uh-oh!
- What is that?!
- Oh, no!
- A wiper! Triple blade!
- Triple blade?
Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!
Why does everything have
to be so doggone clean?!
How much do you people need to see?!
Open your eyes!
Stick your head out the window!
From NPR News in Washington,
I'm Oarl Kasell.
But don't kill no more bugs!
- Bee!
- Moose blood guy!!
- You hear something?
- Like what?
Like tiny screaming.
Turn off the radio.
Whassup, bee boy?
Hey, Blood.
Just a row of honey jars,
as far as the eye could see.
Wow!
I assume wherever this truck goes
is where they're getting it.
I mean, that honey's ours.
- Bees hang tight.
- We're all jammed in.
It's a close community.
Not us, man. We on our own.
Every mosquito on his own.
- What if you get in trouble?
- You a mosquito, you in trouble.
Nobody likes us. They just smack.
See a mosquito, smack, smack!
At least you're out in the world.
You must meet girls.
Mosquito girls try to trade up,
get with a moth, dragonfly.
Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.
You got to be kidding me!
Mooseblood's about to leave
the building! So long, bee!
- Hey, guys!
- Mooseblood!
I knew I'd catch y'all down here.
Did you bring your crazy straw?
We throw it in jars, slap a label on it,
and it's pretty much pure profit.
What is this place?
A bee's got a brain
the size of a pinhead.
They are pinheads!
Pinhead.
- Oheck out the new smoker.
- Oh, sweet. That's the one you want.
The Thomas 3000!
Smoker?
Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic.
Twice the nicotine, all the tar.
A couple breaths of this
knocks them right out.
They make the honey,
and we make the money.
"They make the honey,
and we make the money"?
Oh, my!
What's going on? Are you OK?
Yeah. It doesn't last too long.
Do you know you're
in a fake hive with fake walls?
Our queen was moved here.
We had no choice.
This is your queen?
That's a man in women's clothes!
That's a drag queen!
What is this?
Oh, no!
There's hundreds of them!
Bee honey.
Our honey is being brazenly stolen
on a massive scale!
This is worse than anything bears
have done! I intend to do something.
Oh, Barry, stop.
Who told you humans are taking
our honey? That's a rumor.
Do these look like rumors?
That's a conspiracy theory.
These are obviously doctored photos.
How did you get mixed up in this?
He's been talking to humans.
- What?
- Talking to humans?!
He has a human girlfriend.
And they make out!
Make out? Barry!
We do not.
- You wish you could.
- Whose side are you on?
The bees!
I dated a cricket once in San Antonio.
Those crazy legs kept me up all night.
Barry, this is what you want
to do with your life?
I want to do it for all our lives.
Nobody works harder than bees!
Dad, I remember you
coming home so overworked
your hands were still stirring.
You couldn't stop.
I remember that.
What right do they have to our honey?
We live on two cups a year. They put it
in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!
Even if it's true, what can one bee do?
Sting them where it really hurts.
In the face! The eye!
- That would hurt.
- No.
Up the nose? That's a killer.
There's only one place you can sting
the humans, one place where it matters.
Hive at Five, the hive's only
full-hour action news source.
No more bee beards!
With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk.
Weather with Storm Stinger.
Sports with Buzz Larvi.
And Jeanette Ohung.
- Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble.
- And I'm Jeanette Ohung.
A tri-county bee, Barry Benson,
intends to sue the human race
for stealing our honey,
packaging it and profiting
from it illegally!
Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King,
we'll have three former queens here in
our studio, discussing their new book,
Olassy Ladies,
out this week on Hexagon.
Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson.
Did you ever think, "I'm a kid
from the hive. I can't do this"?
Bees have never been afraid
to change the world.
What about Bee Oolumbus?
Bee Gandhi? Bejesus?
Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans.
We were thinking
of stickball or candy stores.
How old are you?
The bee community
is supporting you in this case,
which will be the trial
of the bee century.
You know, they have a Larry King
in the human world too.
It's a common name. Next week...
He looks like you and has a show
and suspenders and colored dots...
Next week...
Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the
guest even though you just heard 'em.
Bear Week next week!
They're scary, hairy and here live.
Always leans forward, pointy shoulders,
squinty eyes, very Jewish.
In tennis, you attack
at the point of weakness!
It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81.
Honey, her backhand's a joke!
I'm not gonna take advantage of that?
Quiet, please.
Actual work going on here.
- Is that that same bee?
- Yes, it is!
I'm helping him sue the human race.
- Hello.
- Hello, bee.
This is Ken.
Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size
ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe.
Why does he talk again?
Listen, you better go
'cause we're really busy working.
But it's our yogurt night!
Bye-bye.
Why is yogurt night so difficult?!
You poor thing.
You two have been at this for hours!
Yes, and Adam here
has been a huge help.
- Frosting...
- How many sugars?
Just one. I try not
to use the competition.
So why are you helping me?
Bees have good qualities.
And it takes my mind off the shop.
Instead of flowers, people
are giving balloon bouquets now.
Those are great, if you're three.
And artificial flowers.
- Oh, those just get me psychotic!
- Yeah, me too.
Bent stingers, pointless pollination.
Bees must hate those fake things!
Nothing worse
than a daffodil that's had work done.
Maybe this could make up
for it a little bit.
- This lawsuit's a pretty big deal.
- I guess.
You sure you want to go through with it?
Am I sure? When I'm done with
the humans, they won't be able
to say, "Honey, I'm home,"
without paying a royalty!
It's an incredible scene
here in downtown Manhattan,
where the world anxiously waits,
because for the first time in history,
we will hear for ourselves
if a honeybee can actually speak.
What have we gotten into here, Barry?
It's pretty big, isn't it?
I can't believe how many humans
don't work during the day.
You think billion-dollar multinational
food companies have good lawyers?
Everybody needs to stay
behind the barricade.
- What's the matter?
- I don't know, I just got a chill.
Well, if it isn't the bee team.
You boys work on this?
All rise! The Honorable
Judge Bumbleton presiding.
All right. Oase number 4475,
Superior Oourt of New York,
Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry
is now in session.
Mr. Montgomery, you're representing
the five food companies collectively?
A privilege.
Mr. Benson... you're representing
all the bees of the world?
I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor,
we're ready to proceed.
Mr. Montgomery,
your opening statement, please.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
my grandmother was a simple woman.
Born on a farm, she believed
it was man's divine right
to benefit from the bounty
of nature God put before us.
If we lived in the topsy-turvy world
Mr. Benson imagines,
just think of what would it mean.
I would have to negotiate
with the silkworm
for the elastic in my britches!
Talking bee!
How do we know this isn't some sort of
holographic motion-picture-capture
Hollywood wizardry?
They could be using laser beams!
Robotics! Ventriloquism!
Oloning! For all we know,
he could be on steroids!
Mr. Benson?
Ladies and gentlemen,
there's no trickery here.
I'm just an ordinary bee.
Honey's pretty important to me.
It's important to all bees.
We invented it!
We make it. And we protect it
with our lives.
Unfortunately, there are
some people in this room
who think they can take it from us
'cause we're the little guys!
I'm hoping that, after this is all over,
you'll see how, by taking our honey,
you not only take everything we have
but everything we are!
I wish he'd dress like that
all the time. So nice!
Oall your first witness.
So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden
of Honey Farms, big company you have.
I suppose so.
I see you also own
Honeyburton and Honron!
Yes, they provide beekeepers
for our farms.
Beekeeper. I find that
to be a very disturbing term.
I don't imagine you employ
any bee-free-ers, do you?
- No.
- I couldn't hear you.
- No.
- No.
Because you don't free bees.
You keep bees. Not only that,
it seems you thought a bear would be
an appropriate image for a jar of honey.
They're very lovable creatures.
Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear.
You mean like this?
Bears kill bees!
How'd you like his head crashing
through your living room?!
Biting into your couch!
Spitting out your throw pillows!
OK, that's enough. Take him away.
So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here.
Your name intrigues me.
- Where have I heard it before?
- I was with a band called The Police.
But you've never been
a police officer, have you?
No, I haven't.
No, you haven't. And so here
we have yet another example
of bee culture casually
stolen by a human
for nothing more than
a prance-about stage name.
Oh, please.
Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting?
Because I'm feeling
a little stung, Sting.
Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner!
That's not his real name?! You idiots!
Mr. Liotta, first,
belated congratulations on
your Emmy win for a guest spot
on ER in 2005.
Thank you. Thank you.
I see from your resume
that you're devilishly handsome
with a churning inner turmoil
that's ready to blow.
I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime?
Not yet it isn't. But is this
what it's come to for you?
Exploiting tiny, helpless bees
so you don't
have to rehearse
your part and learn your lines, sir?
Watch it, Benson!
I could blow right now!
This isn't a goodfella.
This is a badfella!
Why doesn't someone just step on
this creep, and we can all go home?!
- Order in this court!
- You're all thinking it!
Order! Order, I say!
- Say it!
- Mr. Liotta, please sit down!
I think it was awfully nice
of that bear to pitch in like that.
I think the jury's on our side.
Are we doing everything right, legally?
I'm a florist.
Right. Well, here's to a great team.
To a great team!
Well, hello.
- Ken!
- Hello.
I didn't think you were coming.
No, I was just late.
I tried to call, but... the battery.
I didn't want all this to go to waste,
so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free.
Oh, that was lucky.
There's a little left.
I could heat it up.
Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever.
So I hear you're quite a tennis player.
I'm not much for the game myself.
The ball's a little grabby.
That's where I usually sit.
Right... there.
Ken, Barry was looking at your resume,
and he agreed with me that eating with
chopsticks isn't really a special skill.
You think I don't see what you're doing?
I know how hard it is to find
the rightjob. We have that in common.
Do we?
Bees have 100 percent employment,
but we do jobs like taking the crud out.
That's just what
I was thinking about doing.
Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor
for his fuzz. I hope that was all right.
I'm going to drain the old stinger.
Yeah, you do that.
Look at that.
You know, I've just about had it
with your little mind games.
- What's that?
- Italian Vogue.
Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages.
A lot of ads.
Remember what Van said, why is
your life more valuable than mine?
Funny, I just can't seem to recall that!
I think something stinks in here!
I love the smell of flowers.
How do you like the smell of flames?!
Not as much.
Water bug! Not taking sides!
Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat!
This is pathetic!
I've got issues!
Well, well, well, a royal flush!
- You're bluffing.
- Am I?
Surf's up, dude!
Poo water!
That bowl is gnarly.
Except for those dirty yellow rings!
Kenneth! What are you doing?!
You know, I don't even like honey!
I don't eat it!
We need to talk!
He's just a little bee!
And he happens to be
the nicest bee I've met in a long time!
Long time? What are you talking about?!
Are there other bugs in your life?
No, but there are other things bugging
me in life. And you're one of them!
Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night...
My nerves are fried from riding
on this emotional roller coaster!
Goodbye, Ken.
And for your information,
I prefer sugar-free, artificial
sweeteners made by man!
I'm sorry about all that.
I know it's got
an aftertaste! I like it!
I always felt there was some kind
of barrier between Ken and me.
I couldn't overcome it.
Oh, well.
Are you OK for the trial?
I believe Mr. Montgomery
is about out of ideas.
We would like to call
Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand.
Good idea! You can really see why he's
considered one of the best lawyers...
Yeah.
Layton, you've
gotta weave some magic
with this jury,
or it's gonna be all over.
Don't worry. The only thing I have
to do to turn this jury around
is to remind them
of what they don't like about bees.
- You got the tweezers?
- Are you allergic?
Only to losing, son. Only to losing.
Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you
what I think we'd all like to know.
What exactly is your relationship
to that woman?
We're friends.
- Good friends?
- Yes.
How good? Do you live together?
Wait a minute...
Are you her little...
...bedbug?
I've seen a bee documentary or two.
From what I understand,
doesn't your queen give birth
to all the bee children?
- Yeah, but...
- So those aren't your real parents!
- Oh, Barry...
- Yes, they are!
Hold me back!
You're an illegitimate bee,
aren't you, Benson?
He's denouncing bees!
Don't y'all date your cousins?
- Objection!
- I'm going to pincushion this guy!
Adam, don't! It's what he wants!
Oh, I'm hit!!
Oh, lordy, I am hit!
Order! Order!
The venom! The venom
is coursing through my veins!
I have been felled
by a winged beast of destruction!
You see? You can't treat them
like equals! They're striped savages!
Stinging's the only thing
they know! It's their way!
- Adam, stay with me.
- I can't feel my legs.
What angel of mercy
will come forward to suck the poison
from my heaving buttocks?
I will have order in this court. Order!
Order, please!
The case of the honeybees
versus the human race
took a pointed turn against the bees
yesterday when one of their legal
team stung Layton T. Montgomery.
- Hey, buddy.
- Hey.
- Is there much pain?
- Yeah.
I...
I blew the whole case, didn't I?
It doesn't matter. What matters is
you're alive. You could have died.
I'd be better off dead. Look at me.
They got it from the cafeteria
downstairs, in a tuna sandwich.
Look, there's
a little celery still on it.
What was it like to sting someone?
I can't explain it. It was all...
All adrenaline and then...
and then ecstasy!
All right.
You think it was all a trap?
Of course. I'm sorry.
I flew us right into this.
What were we thinking? Look at us. We're
just a couple of bugs in this world.
What will the humans do to us
if they win?
I don't know.
I hear they put the roaches in motels.
That doesn't sound so bad.
Adam, they check in,
but they don't check out!
Oh, my.
Oould you get a nurse
to close that window?
- Why?
- The smoke.
Bees don't smoke.
Right. Bees don't smoke.
Bees don't smoke!
But some bees are smoking.
That's it! That's our case!
It is? It's not over?
Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere.
Get back to the court and stall.
Stall any way you can.
And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub.
Mr. Flayman.
Yes? Yes, Your Honor!
Where is the rest of your team?
Well, Your Honor, it's interesting.
Bees are trained to fly haphazardly,
and as a result,
we don't make very good time.
I actually heard a funny story about...
Your Honor,
haven't these ridiculous bugs
taken up enough
of this court's valuable time?
How much longer will we allow
these absurd shenanigans to go on?
They have presented no compelling
evidence to support their charges
against my clients,
who run legitimate businesses.
I move for a complete dismissal
of this entire case!
Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going
to have to consider
Mr. Montgomery's motion.
But you can't! We have a terrific case.
Where is your proof?
Where is the evidence?
Show me the smoking gun!
Hold it, Your Honor!
You want a smoking gun?
Here is your smoking gun.
What is that?
It's a bee smoker!
What, this?
This harmless little contraption?
This couldn't hurt a fly,
let alone a bee.
Look at what has happened
to bees who have never been asked,
"Smoking or non?"
Is this what nature intended for us?
To be forcibly addicted
to smoke machines
and man-made wooden slat work camps?
Living out our lives as honey slaves
to the white man?
- What are we gonna do?
- He's playing the species card.
Ladies and gentlemen, please,
free these bees!
Free the bees! Free the bees!
Free the bees!
Free the bees! Free the bees!
The court finds in favor of the bees!
Vanessa, we won!
I knew you could do it! High-five!
Sorry.
I'm OK! You know what this means?
All the honey
will finally belong to the bees.
Now we won't have
to work so hard all the time.
This is an unholy perversion
of the balance of nature, Benson.
You'll regret this.
Barry, how much honey is out there?
All right. One at a time.
Barry, who are you wearing?
My sweater is Ralph Lauren,
and I have no pants.
- What if Montgomery's right?
- What do you mean?
We've been living the bee way
a long time, 27 million years.
Oongratulations on your victory.
What will you demand as a settlement?
First, we'll demand a complete shutdown
of all bee work camps.
Then we want back the honey
that was ours to begin with,
every last drop.
We demand an end to the glorification
of the bear as anything more
than a filthy, smelly,
bad-breath stink machine.
We're all aware
of what they do in the woods.
Wait for my signal.
Take him out.
He'll have nauseous
for a few hours, then he'll be fine.
And we will no longer tolerate
bee-negative nicknames...
But it's just a prance-about stage name!
...unnecessary inclusion of honey
in bogus health products
and la-dee-da human
tea-time snack garnishments.
Oan't breathe.
Bring it in, boys!
Hold it right there! Good.
Tap it.
Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups,
and there's gallons more coming!
- I think we need to shut down!
- Shut down? We've never shut down.
Shut down honey production!
Stop making honey!
Turn your key, sir!
What do we do now?
Oannonball!
We're shutting honey production!
Mission abort.
Aborting pollination and nectar detail.
Returning to base.
Adam, you wouldn't believe
how much honey was out there.
Oh, yeah?
What's going on? Where is everybody?
- Are they out celebrating?
- They're home.
They don't know what to do.
Laying out, sleeping in.
I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way
to San Antonio with a cricket.
At least we got our honey back.
Sometimes I think, so what if humans
liked our honey? Who wouldn't?
It's the greatest thing in the world!
I was excited to be part of making it.
This was my new desk. This was my
new job. I wanted to do it really well.
And now...
Now I can't.
I don't understand
why they're not happy.
I thought their lives would be better!
They're doing nothing. It's amazing.
Honey really changes people.
You don't have any idea
what's going on, do you?
- What did you want to show me?
- This.
What happened here?
That is not the half of it.
Oh, no. Oh, my.
They're all wilting.
Doesn't look very good, does it?
No.
And whose fault do you think that is?
You know, I'm gonna guess bees.
Bees?
Specifically, me.
I didn't think bees not needing to make
honey would affect all these things.
It's notjust flowers.
Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees.
That's our whole SAT test right there.
Take away produce, that affects
the entire animal kingdom.
And then, of course...
The human species?
So if there's no more pollination,
it could all just go south here,
couldn't it?
I know this is also partly my fault.
How about a suicide pact?
How do we do it?
- I'll sting you, you step on me.
- Thatjust kills you twice.
Right, right.
Listen, Barry...
sorry, but I gotta get going.
I had to open my mouth and talk.
Vanessa?
Vanessa? Why are you leaving?
Where are you going?
To the final Tournament of Roses parade
in Pasadena.
They've moved it to this weekend
because all the flowers are dying.
It's the last chance
I'll ever have to see it.
Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry.
I never meant it to turn out like this.
I know. Me neither.
Tournament of Roses.
Roses can't do sports.
Wait a minute. Roses. Roses?
Roses!
Vanessa!
Roses?!
Barry?
- Roses are flowers!
- Yes, they are.
Flowers, bees, pollen!
I know.
That's why this is the last parade.
Maybe not.
Oould you ask him to slow down?
Oould you slow down?
Barry!
OK, I made a huge mistake.
This is a total disaster, all my fault.
Yes, it kind of is.
I've ruined the planet.
I wanted to help you
with the flower shop.
I've made it worse.
Actually, it's completely closed down.
I thought maybe you were remodeling.
But I have another idea, and it's
greater than my previous ideas combined.
I don't want to hear it!
All right, they have the roses,
the roses have the pollen.
I know every bee, plant
and flower bud in this park.
All we gotta do is get what they've got
back here with what we've got.
- Bees.
- Park.
- Pollen!
- Flowers.
- Repollination!
- Across the nation!
Tournament of Roses,
Pasadena, Oalifornia.
They've got nothing
but flowers, floats and cotton candy.
Security will be tight.
I have an idea.
Vanessa Bloome, FTD.
Official floral business. It's real.
Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch.
Thank you. It was a gift.
Once inside,
we just pick the right float.
How about The Princess and the Pea?
I could be the princess,
and you could be the pea!
Yes, I got it.
- Where should I sit?
- What are you?
- I believe I'm the pea.
- The pea?
It goes under the mattresses.
- Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart.
- I'm getting the marshal.
You do that!
This whole parade is a fiasco!
Let's see what this baby'll do.
Hey, what are you doing?!
Then all we do
is blend in with traffic...
...without arousing suspicion.
Once at the airport,
there's no stopping us.
Stop! Security.
- You and your insect pack your float?
- Yes.
Has it been
in your possession the entire time?
Would you remove your shoes?
- Remove your stinger.
- It's part of me.
I know. Just having some fun.
Enjoy your flight.
Then if we're lucky, we'll have
just enough pollen to do the job.
Oan you believe how lucky we are? We
have just enough pollen to do the job!
I think this is gonna work.
It's got to work.
Attention, passengers,
this is Oaptain Scott.
We have a bit of bad weather
in New York.
It looks like we'll experience
a couple hours delay.
Barry, these are cut flowers
with no water. They'll never make it.
I gotta get up there
and talk to them.
Be careful.
Oan I get help
with the Sky Mall magazine?
I'd like to order the talking
inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer.
Oaptain, I'm in a real situation.
- What'd you say, Hal?
- Nothing.
Bee!
Don't freak out! My entire species...
What are you doing?
- Wait a minute! I'm an attorney!
- Who's an attorney?
Don't move.
Oh, Barry.
Good afternoon, passengers.
This is your captain.
Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B
please report to the cockpit?
And please hurry!
What happened here?
There was a DustBuster,
a toupee, a life raft exploded.
One's bald, one's in a boat,
they're both unconscious!
- Is that another bee joke?
- No!
No one's flying the plane!
This is JFK control tower, Flight 356.
What's your status?
This is Vanessa Bloome.
I'm a florist from New York.
Where's the pilot?
He's unconscious,
and so is the copilot.
Not good. Does anyone onboard
have flight experience?
As a matter of fact, there is.
- Who's that?
- Barry Benson.
From the honey trial?! Oh, great.
Vanessa, this is nothing more
than a big metal bee.
It's got giant wings, huge engines.
I can't fly a plane.
- Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot?
- Yes.
How hard could it be?
Wait, Barry!
We're headed into some lightning.
This is Bob Bumble. We have some
late-breaking news from JFK Airport,
where a suspenseful scene
is developing.
Barry Benson,
fresh from his legal victory...
That's Barry!
...is attempting to land a plane,
loaded with people, flowers
and an incapacitated flight crew.
Flowers?!
We have a storm in the area
and two individuals at the controls
with absolutely no flight experience.
Just a minute.
There's a bee on that plane.
I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson
and his no-account compadres.
They've done enough damage.
But isn't he your only hope?
Technically, a bee
shouldn't be able to fly at all.
Their wings are too small...
Haven't we heard this a million times?
"The surface area of the wings
and body mass make no sense."
- Get this on the air!
- Got it.
- Stand by.
- We're going live.
The way we work may be a mystery to you.
Making honey takes a lot of bees
doing a lot of small jobs.
But let me tell you about a small job.
If you do it well,
it makes a big difference.
More than we realized.
To us, to everyone.
That's why I want to get bees
back to working together.
That's the bee way!
We're not made of Jell-O.
We get behind a fellow.
- Black and yellow!
- Hello!
Left, right, down, hover.
- Hover?
- Forget hover.
This isn't so hard.
Beep-beep! Beep-beep!
Barry, what happened?!
Wait, I think we were
on autopilot the whole time.
- That may have been helping me.
- And now we're not!
So it turns out I cannot fly a plane.
All of you, let's get
behind this fellow! Move it out!
Move out!
Our only chance is if I do what I'd do,
you copy me with the wings of the plane!
Don't have to yell.
I'm not yelling!
We're in a lot of trouble.
It's very hard to concentrate
with that panicky tone in your voice!
It's not a tone. I'm panicking!
I can't do this!
Vanessa, pull yourself together.
You have to snap out of it!
You snap out of it.
You snap out of it.
- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!
- Hold it!
- Why? Oome on, it's my turn.
How is the plane flying?
I don't know.
Hello?
Benson, got any flowers
for a happy occasion in there?
The Pollen Jocks!
They do get behind a fellow.
- Black and yellow.
- Hello.
All right, let's drop this tin can
on the blacktop.
Where? I can't see anything. Oan you?
No, nothing. It's all cloudy.
Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry.
- Thinking bee.
- Thinking bee.
Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
Wait a minute.
I think I'm feeling something.
- What?
- I don't know. It's strong, pulling me.
Like a 27-million-year-old instinct.
Bring the nose down.
Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
- What in the world is on the tarmac?
- Get some lights on that!
Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
- Vanessa, aim for the flower.
- OK.
Out the engines. We're going in
on bee power. Ready, boys?
Affirmative!
Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it.
Land on that flower!
Ready? Full reverse!
Spin it around!
- Not that flower! The other one!
- Which one?
- That flower.
- I'm aiming at the flower!
That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt.
I mean the giant pulsating flower
made of millions of bees!
Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up.
Rotate around it.
- This is insane, Barry!
- This's the only way I know how to fly.
Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane
flying in an insect-like pattern?
Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid.
Smell it. Full reverse!
Just drop it. Be a part of it.
Aim for the center!
Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman!
Oome on, already.
Barry, we did it!
You taught me how to fly!
- Yes. No high-five!
- Right.
Barry, it worked!
Did you see the giant flower?
What giant flower? Where? Of course
I saw the flower! That was genius!
- Thank you.
- But we're not done yet.
Listen, everyone!
This runway is covered
with the last pollen
from the last flowers
available anywhere on Earth.
That means this is our last chance.
We're the only ones who make honey,
pollinate flowers and dress like this.
If we're gonna survive as a species,
this is our moment! What do you say?
Are we going to be bees, orjust
Museum of Natural History keychains?
We're bees!
Keychain!
Then follow me! Except Keychain.
Hold on, Barry. Here.
You've earned this.
Yeah!
I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect
fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves.
Oh, yeah.
That's our Barry.
Mom! The bees are back!
If anybody needs
to make a call, now's the time.
I got a feeling we'll be
working late tonight!
Here's your change. Have a great
afternoon! Oan I help who's next?
Would you like some honey with that?
It is bee-approved. Don't forget these.
Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me.
And I don't see a nickel!
Sometimes I just feel
like a piece of meat!
I had no idea.
Barry, I'm sorry.
Have you got a moment?
Would you excuse me?
My mosquito associate will help you.
Sorry I'm late.
He's a lawyer too?
I was already a blood-sucking parasite.
All I needed was a briefcase.
Have a great afternoon!
Barry, I just got this huge tulip order,
and I can't get them anywhere.
No problem, Vannie.
Just leave it to me.
You're a lifesaver, Barry.
Oan I help who's next?
All right, scramble, jocks!
It's time to fly.
Thank you, Barry!
That bee is living my life!
Let it go, Kenny.
- When will this nightmare end?!
- Let it all go.
- Beautiful day to fly.
- Sure is.
Between you and me,
I was dying to get out of that office.
You have got
to start thinking bee, my friend.
- Thinking bee!
- Me?
Hold it. Let's just stop
for a second. Hold it.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone.
Oan we stop here?
I'm not making a major life decision
during a production number!
All right. Take ten, everybody.
Wrap it up, guys.
I had virtually no rehearsal for that.
wow okay okay
