The lights were dimmed, shuttering. Curley and George both standing with fists clinched and sweating. Fists of steal. George yelled, "If yous goin to talk the talk yous better walk the walk," Curley runs at George. Fist ready for flailing. George is waiting for him, he's ready to rumble. George took the first hit to the face, and swings back with a good ol' one two. Curley goes down like a sack of bricks. George jumps on him, Curleys eyes were lit up like the fourth of July. His stomach was twisting with butterflies because he was so scared. "Yous a little crazy bastard" said George.
"It aint thee size of the dog in fight, but thee size of fight on the dog," yelled Curley as he threw George off of him like a sac of potatoes. Both got up to their feet. They squared off again. Silence came to the room.
Round two. George ran at Curley, as he ran, he jumped up and smashed Curleys face with is mailed fist. The blow was so hard he felt like he got hit by a bus. Curley couldn't take anymore. George sweating lakes of sweat.
"Yous done yet," George asked.
"Ya I'm don," says Curley. "Get outta her' before the guys comes back," George made like a cheetah and left. He blew that popcicle stand. Lennie and George were never to be seen again by any of the workers at the ranch. They did pursue their dream, by getting the ranch and getting the animals. Even the rabbits.
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