Ailsa Craig

February 28^th 2013

Chapter 7 of “Of Mice and Men”

 

Slim and George sat down at the bar. Slim put a hand on George's shoulder and stated, "Like I said, George, sometimes a guy's gotta."

“I know, I know.” huffed George. His mind was foggy from the gallon of whiskey he had drunk. “I just… I…” his voice softly faded away.

Slim looked up from his mug of beer and stared at George. He looked like he was thinking, thinking very hard. He took another sip of beer and slammed the mug down on the roughed up surface of the bar. “I’m getting to damn old for this!” Slims outburst sent shivers down some of the patrons spines.

George shot up out of his seat, “You’re too old for this? You are? Slim? Are too old for this? What about me, Slim? I had to shoot my best friend in the back of the head. You know what it’s like to live with that guilt? It’s a living hell! Every goddamn morning I wake up alone! I don’t got nobody! You’re the head honcho on the ranch! Everybody loves Slim, let’s all worship Slim. Oh! I know a better idea, let’s all marry Slim! You think you have such a hard knocked life. Well I got some news for you, you don’t. You wouldn’t know a tough life if it walked right up to you and slapped you across the face!” George was livid, Slim could almost see the steam coming out of his ears, and he could definitely see the veins popping out of his neck.

“You better watch your tone young man” Slim got up out of his seat too, “let’s go, right here, right now.” Slim put his fists up, ready to take on anybody who got in this way.

“You want to fight me? Well I think we are a little too old for that. Or are we?” George was now pacing around Slim, his hands were behind his back, and the whole bar was eerily still, “I don’t think that’d it’d be a fair fight though. You are so big and strong. And me, well I’m no you, Slim.”

Slims hands were still up; he was ready to strike at any moment. He started to speak in a voice that was shaky but still firm “Well George, are we gunna do this, or what?” his voice rose to a shout “C’mon George! Take your best shot. You can have the first one, punch me right here. C’mon pretty boy, let’s dance!”

            Now still, George stood directly across from Slim, hands on his hips, and his eyes were fixed on Slim’s fists. “Alright Slim” said George. And with one swift motion George reached behind his back and pulled out Carlson’s luger and shot Slim in the middle of his forehead. He pulled the luger up to his lips and blew the smoke out of it with a smug expression on his face. He pointed up to the sky and said “That one was for you big guy.”

            Satisfied with Slim’s cold lifeless body lying in the middle of the bar, George pivoted on the heels of his boots and walked out the front doors of the bar. He walked over to his trusty steed, a horse named Leon, he hopped onto the saddle and the two of them rode off into the sunset and were never seen again.

 

 

Student Parking Lot

 

From the outside looking in, the student parking lot of Princess Margaret Secondary School looks like a jumbled and upsetting clump of pedestrians, automobiles, and senior students. But, a better way to describe it is organized chaos, much like my grade twelve year in high school. The glorious and monumental moment when I got my eager hands on my well deserved driver’s license, changed my life. This is one of the defining moments in my brief existence, more responsibility, more privileges, and more excitement. The moment every youngster fantasizes about. Pulling into the demented disorder of the student parking lot for the first time was over whelming and soon I find myself beaming with superiority and delight. My music thumping, my sharpest pair of sunglasses on, and the burning green-eyed monster stares from my junior peers, who still long for the day that they can smoothly peel into the student parking lot. During class the vehicles in the parking lot sit calm and serene, while their drivers endure lifeless lessons and dull colorless assignments. At 12:51, when the dazzling noise of the bell floods the vacant hallways, the parking lot comes back to life. The sea of students striding across the poorly paved lot, bellies grumbling for some satisfying snacks to help them make it through the final grueling hours of the day. The fortunate few with cars hustle out of the parking lot, avoiding the meager traffic jam that occurs every lunch, soon to return with without hunger. At 1:33 precisely the sickening sound of the bell interrupts the students lunch time shenanigans, and the parking lot is back to its calm and serene state. The wind whistles through the hollow aisles between the cars and the dry dust waltz's along the tar dance floor. It doesn't stay this way for long. Soon the chaos of the student parking lot will multiply with the addition of: impatient parents, larger than life school buses, slow-paced pedestrians, exhausted staff, and all six hundred Princess Margaret students. The complete disorder of the parking lot at the end of a lengthy and mundane day trapped at school seems almost refreshing. Trying to escape the parking lot at the peak of rush hour is like grade twelve; I just can't wait to get out of there, but I know that on some level, I'm going to miss it.

 

All About Me

To the common, untrained eye Ailsa Craig looks like your average twelfth grade girl, but she is so much more than that. She spends her weekends prancing about in the dance studio like a majestic gazelle, gloriously striding across a pageant stage, or having some side splitting chuckles over coffee with her trusty chums. During the week Ailsa is at Princess Margaret Secondary School with world class facilities, faculty, and peers that are the worlds future Prime Ministers, astronauts, and physicists, it's no wonder Ailsa is so devoted to education. Despite her startling java addiction, Ailsa loves to relax when she has a rare moment to step back from her hectic life and pause. With all this studying, dancing, and hanging out with friends Ailsa feels as though she has become a tremendous blossoming flower in the bouquet of life. Society has their ideas of how teenage girls act and behave, but Ailsa prides herself on her ability to carry herself in a way that may be a little different then the majority of seventeen year old girls.