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.