Monday, October 12, 2009

Summer Essay

The sun beat down in the farm hand's backs as they packed the grain into the wagon. George was showing the new farm help around, "This here is our job. Pick up those grain bags, and pile 'em onto that wagon. Bag after bag, day after day." Tom Buchanan, a man in his mid thirties watched the men work. "Well, git ta work! He don't pay us to stand 'round watchin'!" Tom quickly jumped to work, picking up one bag after another. "So, where you from anyhow? You don't look like you lifted this much in yer entire life!" George noticed.
Tom's face grew red, "I'm from New York. I moved West after my life turned upside down. I gambled all of my money away, and need a job to support my family, and this was the only work I could find around these parts."
"I see," said George. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. "So, New York, what did you do there?"
"Well, I lived in the wealthy section of town with my wife and my daughter. I also had a mistress on the side, and when Daisy found out, everything started spiraling downwards. Myrtle, my mistress, ended up getting hit by a car and killed, and my friend Gatsby was shot. We moved away, because there was too much to remember. How about you? Where are you from?"
George got a nervous look on his face, "I travelled around with this other man, Lennie, working on various farms. The last place I was at, he got into a lot of trouble with the Boss' son, because he was real dumb and doesn't know any better. He was different, and killed the lady. Not because he was mean, but because he didn't know any better. He ran off, and the farm came after him, going to kill him. But he was scared. I ended up shooting him myself though. I still think about it all the time." George didn't speak for a while, and worked harder, trying to get his mind off of Lennie.
The men worked a while longer before Tom spoke, "I'm sorry to hear that. I know how it is to lose someone you're close to. It was probably for the better though, it sounds." George kept silent. "I'm sorry," Tom said. "I probably shouldn't be sticking my nose where it doesn't belong."
"It's alright. I did it because I was Lennie's only friend and he felt calm before he died. It really was for the better. But we had this dream of owning some land and a house and not having to work for someone else the rest of our lives. But I always knew in the back of my mind that it was only a dream." Tom felt George's pain. He too had seen his fair share of pain.
The sky was changing colours, from bright blue to golds and reds. Only a few bags of grain were left to be loaded onto the wagons. The men all scattered to their bunks to rest before the next day began.

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