The Grain Gypsies
The alarm clock rings at 4:30 A.M. As always, George is the one to turn it off, smacking his open palm down on the plunger. Lennie is still snoring in the other twin bed.
“Git up Lennie, time to rise and shine.” Still no response from Lennie, although his snoring has stopped. “Git up Lennie, I’m not goin’ uh tell you agin’.
“Just give me 5 more minutes, George, then I promise I’ll git up.”
“Five more minutes, my ass. Yesterday, your ‘just five more minutes’ turned into 20 minutes. Bossman told us if we was late one more time, he was firin’ us. We need this job - it’s all we’s got. Now git up.”
Reluctantly, Lennie sits up on the side of the bed. His 230 pound, 6’ 2” frame puts quite a dent on the edge of the mattress. “Why’s we got to git up so early, George.”
“Today’s Monday, Lennie, and you know what we have to do ever’ Monday”.
“No I don’t George. I shore don’t. Tell me George, why we gotta git up so early this Monday. Please tell me, George”.
“Lennie, I swear to Christ, you is the dumbest bastard I ever’ knowd in my whole life. We been workin’ this here wheat harvest ever’ week for the last 4 months, ever since springtime. Ever’ week. And ever’ week we been workin’ with the same wheat harvester machine. Now ain’t we, you knucklehead?”
“If you say so George. Whatever you say George, that’s good enough for me.”
“And Lennie, what is it we do to that wheat harverter’ combine ever’ Monday, week in and week out? The same wheat harvester we’s been combinin’ with for the last 4 dad-blamed months”.
“I don’t rightly know George. Please tell me agin’ George. I promise not to forget this time.”
“Lennie, if I had a nickel for ever’ time you promised not to forget agin, I’d be a rich man. I’d have so darn much money, I wouldn’t have ta sleep in these flea-bag motels and listin’ to you snorin’ like a freight train all night long. I’d have enough money to quit this dang nomads life chasing the grain harvest from south to north, ever’ spring to ever’ autumn, workin’ ever’ stinkin’ day from sunup to sundown, for a pittance of wages. Oh Lennie, what am I gonna do with you? You can’t remember nothin’. Okay, you nit-whit, I’ll tell you one more time. Ever’ Monday, we’s got to greaze and oil the gears on that there combine harvester. If’n we don’t, and that machine up and quits on us, bossman gonna’ fire us for shore. Now pull your britches on and we’ll git some grub, ‘fore we tackle that harvester. It’s gonna’ be a long time ‘til our lunch break, and I don’t want you starvin’ to death out there on the wheat fields”.
“Okay, George. Whatever you say George. You just keepa’ thinkin’ like that George. You’re good at that. You’re the thinkin’ one George, you shurly is. I promise I won’t fergit agin. No siree. Ever’ Monday, we’s gotta greaze up that big ol machine. Ever Monday. I promise I won’t fergit agin, George. Please George, don’t git mad. I promise I won’t fergit agin. Cross my heart and hope to die”.
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After breakfast, George and Lennie begin the long drive out to the field where the harvester was parked late last evening.
“George, when a’ we goin’ back to Texas”?
“Lennie, I’s already told you a thousand times. We ain’t never goin’ back to Texas for wurk. Ain’t no wurk there no more for grain gypsies like us.”
“But I liked it in Texas, George. They got’s real purdy cowgirls down there. Those cowgirls wear them cowboy boots like a man – but they ain’t like men, George – they’s real purdy.”
“Yeah, I know Lennie – you always did like those cowgirls – but we can’t git no work down there no more. No more grain to be worked down there no more. All the crops is plum fried up down there. Too hot down there anymore – can’t grow no wheat or barley down there no more.”
“But George, I liked Texas.”
“Jesus H. Christ, Lennie, we ain’t been harvestin’ down in Texas for over ten years now. How the hell can you remember what happened over 10 years ago, but you can’t remember where you pissed just 10 minutes ago? You remember how it used to be years ago? We’d start out in the spring working the crops down in the Texas Panhandle, down around Amarillo. Then we’d work our way north thru Oklahoma, Kansas, South Dakota, then end up in the autumn working the wheat fields of North Dakota. Did it like that for many years. But then it got too hot down there in Texas, so next Spring we started workin’ the milo fields in Oklahoma, then went north from there. Then it got to be too hot in Oklahoma too, so now we start each spring combinin’ the winter wheat in Kansas. Then work north from there.”
“George, why’s it gettin’ hotter? Please tell me George.”
“How the hell do I know? I ain’t no damn scientist. Maybe the suns gittin’ hotter, or maybe we’s getting closer to the sun. How’s you expect me to know the answer to that? All I know is that the winters just keep gettin’ shorter and the summer’s is gettin’ longer and hotter. We’s just got to go where the crops is, just keep pushin’ north. Pushin’, pushin’, pushin’. Next year, bossman says he expects we will start working up in Canada for the first time.”
“Canada? Canada? I’s like Canada, George. They’s got Mounted Police in Canada. Seen it once in a picture show. They shore do. The Police, they ride real purdy, big black and brown horses up there. I like’s Canada. George, does those Police man’s wear cowboy boots up there, just like those cowboys did down in Texas? Can we please go up to Canada some time, George? Please, George?”
“Lennie, shut you damn stupid mouth. No more time for talkin’. There’s the combine. Now remember, let’s me do all the greazin’ and oilin’ of these gears. I don’t want you screwin’ up the machinery agin. Just go over there and sit under that shade tree ‘til I’m done. Then you can help me with the harvestin’ of all this here wheat. Now go over there and sit down ‘til I tell you to git up.”
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After another long, dusty day in the wheat fields, Lennie and George check into the next run-down, third-rate, Mom-and-Pop motel, about 25 miles north of last nights lodging. Following a quick dinner, they settle into their room.
“George, I got’s one more question, please George”.
“That’s what you always say Lenny. ‘I got’s just one more question’. Don’t you never have no answers in that thick head of yours? Nope, just a bunch of stupid questions between those big dumbo ears of yours. If I had a nickel for ever’ time you asked a lame-brained question, I’d be a rich man”.
“Please George, just one more question. Purty please”.
“Okay Lennie, I’ll give you one more question. Then its lights out. We got another long day ahead of us tomorruh.”
“Thanks George – now don’t git mad. Here’s my last question George. I promise George, no more questions. Here’s my question. What if, one of these years, there ain’t no more North? What happens when there ain’t no more North to go to? What uh we gonna’ do then George? Huh George? Please tell me George”.