Plenty Mice Though

Lookit, Lennie, just between us,
Steinbeck mighta lied. I been a-
Seekin’ one but ain’t yet seen a
Sleepin’ cave upside Salinas.


C-Dubs The Least-Loved Ranch Hand

There’s Carlson, Whit, Crooks, The Boss, George and Lennie.
There’s Candy and Curly and Slim (’cause he’s skinny).
But do you recall
The most disrespected of all?

C-Dubs, the least-loved ranch hand,
Didn’t even have a name
And everyone who saw her
Would have told you she’s to blame.

All of the other ranch hands
Had a Y beside their X.
Homogametic C-Dubs
Shoulda chose a different sex.

Finding Lennie in the hay,
C-Dubs came to say,
“Kilt your pup? Well, that’s all right.
You kin stroke my hair tonight!”

Oh, how the big lug rubbed it!
‘Til she shouted out, then he
Panicked, and poor old C-Dubs
Was shaken out of his story!

“Floozy,” “jail bait,” “tramp” and “bitch,”
“God damn…lousy tart.”

Steinbeck went to town when he
Vented his misogyny.

He wrote the painter’s daughter
Such an awful, tawdry life,
He must have hated C-Dubs
(Which is short for “Curley’s Wife”).

The Air Feels Fine

I’m hiding in the brush, I bet,
But George ain’t come and get me yet.
He gonna give me hell, I know,
But I remembered where to go:
I come right here, just like he said!
Too bad my li’l ol’ pup is dead.
I’ll bury him so George won’t see,
An’ then he won’t be mad at me.
He’ll let me tend the rabbits on
Our little…hey! My hat is gone.

The Fattathalan

You say you’ve not yet Mice-and-Men’d?
You know the show’s about to end,
So what’s the hold-up? Where’s the rub?
Make tracks! ‘Cause check the facts, here, Bub:
Steinbeck’s work of heartbreak art
Can feed your every need. Let’s start
With puppies: M&M’s got nine!
And four come through completely fine!
Hate ’em? Gotcha covered: Five
Li’l S.O.B.’s do not survive.
The same dynamic plays as well
With pets who pack that old-dog smell
Like Candy’s dog, so sweet and fuzzy.
Carl doesn’t shoot him, does he?
Place your bets on Yes or No,
Then come and see. It’s in the show!
And, say, you seen the new kid yet?
That tart’ll steal your heart, you bet,
And if you’re a misogynist
Well, let’s just say you won’t be pissed
About the way the cookie crumbles.
Like it when a bully stumbles?
Johnny S. done wrote a script
In which the boss’s son gets stripped
Of dignity as well as fingers!
Even so, the bully lingers
Long enough to see his foe
Get his comeuppance, too. This show
Has something sweet for everyone!
Think comfy chairs are tons of fun?
Your avatar is there onstage!
Don’t care a Whit? Just turn the page
And set down on that keg instead
And let Crooks s’pose your bros are dead.
If you like keeping secrets, well,
We’ve got a couple not to tell,
And should you find delight in snitches,
We got lots them sonsabitches!
Say, you crave authority?
We’ve got a Boss (and so does he)–
Though, truth be told, the chance is Slim
Has more authority in him–
And if you’d rather show up late
And lie ’bout why you done it, great:
George’ll tardy hearty, too!
But four more shows is all we’ll do.
Lookit: Lennie’s all a-quiver
Lookin’ hard across the river
Toward where he and George are bound,
Where rabbits, ‘cots and nuts are found,
Where no one hurts nobody, and
Where everybody owns the land
The fat o’ which they live upon,
Where grain bag-buckin’ days are gone
And you can hardly cut the cream
Atop the milk…it’s like a dream
Of heaven here on earth. Suffice
To say, we think you’ll find it nice.