Of Mice and Men – An Alternate Ending
After my umpteenth reading of John Steinbeck’s “Of Mice and Men”, I began thinking about how the novel might have ended had Curley killed Lennie instead of George doing the deed. After all, Lennie had just killed Curley’s wife and there had been animosity between George and Curley. I also thought about drawing a connection between Candy’s old dog and Lennie. He certainly wasn’t old and decrepit, but Lennie had become more of a burden than an asset to George. In a sense, he had outlived his “usefulness” as a traveling companion and a friend. George had to be the one to look after Lennie. Recall in Chapter 1 when George is railing about how things could have been so much better for him without Lennie to hold him down: “God a’mighty, if I was alone I could live so easy.” and “You crazy son-of-a-bitch. You keep me in hot water all the time.”
Steinbeck has George kill Lennie, but what if Curley had gotten to him first to avenge the murder of his wife? What if in those closing moments of the novel, George spelled out the symbolism of Candy’s dog as he felt cheated out of doing what needed to be done himself; just as Candy felt remorse for not doing what he should have done himself – shooting his own dog? “I oughtta of shot that dog myself, George. I shouldn’t oughtta of let no stranger shoot my dog.”
Please, dear reader, do not think me so bold as to presume to second guess one of the greatest authors of the 20th Century. “Of Mice and Men” is without a doubt a masterpiece of storytelling. However, an engaged reader is one who predicts and makes connections and lives the novel with the characters in it. Why not imagine alternate dialogue or alternate endings? So, with that said, I offer what I think would be a viable alternate conclusion to John Steinbeck’s “Of Mice and Men.”
We pick up the story on the river bank and George is standing behind Lennie with the pistol in his hand. They have repeated the fantasy of buying a piece of land and living out their days peacefully with no one to bother them.
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“No,” said George. “No, Lennie. I ain’t mad. I never been mad, an’ I ain’t now. That’s a thing I want ya to know.” Both men paused and contemplated the river and the quiet sound of the afternoon.
“Lennie? Do you remember Candy’s old dog?”
“Oh sure, George. I remember he was old and smelly, but he was a good dog. I wisht Carlson hadn’ta shot him like he done.”
“Yeah, but sometimes a fella’s got to do what a fella’s got to do. Sometimes even the things we love outlive their time and they have to be put out of their misery.” George paused. “Tell ya what. Close yer eyes, Lennie, and think of our farm. Think how great it will be to live on the fatta the lan’. Just you and me.”
“And Candy, too, right George?” Lennie closed his eyes and smiled.
“Yeah, Lennie, and Candy.”
George got up slowly. He walked behind Lennie and quietly pulled the Luger out of his pocket. Curley and the others were getting closer. George raised the gun and listened to their voices drawing near.
Lennie begged, “Le’s do it now. Le’s get that place now.”
“Sure, right now. I gotta. We gotta.”
George raised the gun and brought the muzzle close to the back of Lennie’s head. He knew what he had to do. His hand shook violently and he closed his eyes and took a breath to steady his nerves. For a brief moment George thought of that place with the chickens and the pig and the rabbits eating alfalfa, too. His hand steadied.
The sound of the gunshot jolted George from his thoughts and back to the riverbank. As he opened his eyes he saw blood rushing from Lennie’s forehead. Lennie made a soft grunting sound and fell onto the riverbank. George looked down in terror; first at Lennie, then at the gun in his hand – its barrel still cold.
“Yee-haw,” called Curley. “Got him right between the eyes! That son-of-a-bitch ain’t gonna hurt nobody no more.”
Curley, Carlson, and Slim came jogging down the riverbank. Curley was smiling and whooping it up. Carlson and Slim were behind him looking less jovial. George still had the Luger in his hand when they reached him. He stood motionless with his mouth open and his eyes so wide they might have fallen out of their sockets if he didn’t blink. Curley stood over Lennie and poked his motionless body with the rifle barrel.
“Goddammit. That’s what you get for messin’ with another man’s woman. You done her in, an’ I done you the same way,” he screamed. Instinctively, Curley kicked Lennie’s body and spat on him. “Son-of-a-BITCH!”
“Don’t you do that to him! He’s dead. You got no call to treat him that way,” demanded George. Curley looked up to find the Luger’s barrel pointed right between his eyes. George stared at Curley with the look of a man with nothing left to lose – cold, hard, and without the slightest hint of emotion. “Step away. NOW!”
“Whatcha’ gonna do, shoot me?” Curley smiled nervously. George’s hand began to shake and that look of a killer drained from his face. “Whatta ya gonna do? Huh? Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
But before Curley could turn away, George grabbed him by the front of his shirt and smashed the pistol against the side of Curley’s head. Curley let out a loud “Ungh!” and crumbled in a heap next to Lennie in the dirt.
“You goddamn bastard! That was for me to do. Me! He’s not a dog. He ain’t Candy’s dog; led out to be put down by a stranger.” George could feel the first hot tear start down his cheek. “Lennie was MY responsibility. What he did was wrong, but it was for ME to make it right, not YOU!” And with that George kicked Curley in the ribs so hard that Slim and Carlson could hear them crack from where they were standing. George looked down at the gun and for a brief moment contemplated his options. Then, with anger in his eyes, he heaved the pistol as hard as he could into the river. George looked down at Curley and whispered angrily, “Bastard!” He turned and started back for the ranch. Slim and Carlson remained where they were and watched until George was out of sight and then slowly helped Curley to his feet.
The next morning George was on his way back to Soledad with his bindle slung over his shoulder. He didn’t bother with the bus this time; he walked. He needed time to think, but all he could think of were rabbits, and field after field of alfalfa.
