text: [Themes: edutainment]
  
  You leap forward, tackling the man and slamming him into the table. His head bounces off it with a thud, breaking his nose as blood begins streaming down his face. He wraps his hands around your neck, as he begins to strangle you. You ram your elbow into his face, knocking him off you.
  
  You twist around, noticing the other two Black and Tans focusing on your are hurrying for their rifles, and are soon to reach them. You bash your fist into the man again, wondering what to do.
  
  > take on the others as well
  You your leg over, kicking away away the leg of another one of them as they crumple forward. The other grabs your leg for your next kick, quickly bringing his elbow down on your leg repeatedly as he breaks your leg with a few quick hits. You scream out in pain, grabbing at your leg with a desperate scream.
  
  The next punch is from the man you've been beating, as he knocks your head backwards, as your blood squirts over the floor. Immediately, all three of them are upon you, as boots begin to smash into you. You're quickly stomped several times in the head, your blood and teeth spilling out onto the floor. When they finally stop, you're too broken and bloodied to even know what's happening. All you hear is the pulling back of a rifle bolt, and then it all ends.
  
  > end Game and Leave Comments
  Oh. You're here. You're not supposed to be here, reader. Usually, you either quit at the start when you realize you don't like it, or play until a satisfactory ending. Were you happy with being beaten to death? I guess you must've been.
  
  Anyway... I don't know, feel free to leave with that link there. Or go learn about Of Mice and Men, in a version where everything's just slightly gayer, because the five minutes I spent making sure that was there so people couldn't play my game when I didn't want to.
  
  > Super secret link
  A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green. The water is warm too, for it has slipped twinkling over the yellow sands in the sunlight before reaching the narrow pool. On one side of the river the golden foothill slopes curve up to the strong and rocky Gabilan Mountains, but on the valley side the water is lined with trees — willows fresh and green with every spring, carrying in their lower leaf junctures the debris of the winter's flooding; and sycamores with mottled, white, recumbent limbs and branches that arch over the pool. On the sandy bank under the trees the leaves lie deep and so crisp that a lizard makes a great skittering if he runs among them. Rabbits come out of the brush to sit on the sand in the evening, and the damp flats are covered with the night tracks of 'coons, and with the spreadpads of dogs from the ranches, and with the split-wedge tracks of deer that come to drink in the dark.
  
  There is a path through the willows and among the sycamores, a path beaten hard by boys coming down, and trust me, I do mean a path beaten hard by boys. Anal metaphors a plenty in this story, don't you worry sir. Anyhow, a path from the ranches to swim in the deep pool, and beaten hard by tramps who come wearily down from the highway in the evening to jungle-up near water. In front of the low horizontal limb of a giant sycamore there is an ash pile made by many fires; the limb is worn smooth by men who have sat on it. All over it, leaving it stinking off ass. The perfect limb, really.
  
  Evening of a hot day started the little wind to moving among the leaves. The shade climbed up the hills toward the top. On the sand banks the rabbits sat as quietly as little gray sculptured stones. And then from the direction of the state highway came the sound of footsteps on crisp sycamore leaves. The rabbits hurried noiselessly for cover. A stilted heron labored up into the air and pounded down river. For a moment the place was lifeless, and then two men emerged from the path and came into the opening by the green pool.
  
  They had walked in single file down the path, and even in the open one stayed behind the other. Both were dressed in denim trousers that had regularly been pulled aside to allow for anal and in denim coats with brass buttons. Both wore black, shapeless hats and both carried tight blanket rolls slung over their shoulders. The first man was small and quick to cum, dark of face, with restless eyes and sharp, strong features. Every part of him was defined: small, strong hands, slender arms, a thin and bony nose. Behind him walked his opposite, a huge man, shapeless of face, with large, pale eyes, and wide, sloping shoulders; and he walked heavily, dragging his feet a little, the way a bear drags his paws. His arms did not swing at his sides, but hung loosely.
  
  The first man stopped short in the clearing, and the follower nearly ran over him. He took off his hat and wiped the sweat-band with his forefinger and snapped the moisture off. He licked his sweat off his finger, loving it, his erection growing instantaneously. His huge companion dropped his blankets and flung himself down and drank from the surface of the green pool; drank with long gulps, snorting into the water like a horse. The small man stepped nervously beside him.
  
  "Lennie!" he said sharply. "Lennie, for God' sakes don't drink so much." Lennie continued to snort into the pool. The small man leaned over and shook him by the shoulder. "Lennie. You gonna be sick like you was last night. It's only a matter of time before you get AIDS, and then I get AIDS, and trust me, I don't want that."
  
  Lennie dipped his whole head under, hat and all, and then he sat up on the bank and his hat dripped down on his blue coat and ran down his back. "That's good," he said. "You drink some, George. You take a good big drink." He smiled happily. "I know you love drinking, but it ain't usually water."
  
  George unslung his bindle and dropped it gently on the bank. "I ain't sure it's good water," he said. "Looks kinda scummy."
  
  Lennie dabbled his big paw in the water and wiggled his fingers so the water arose in little splashes; rings widened across the pool to the other side and came back again. Lennie watched them go. "Look, George. Look what I done."
  
  George knelt beside the pool and drank from his hand with quick scoops. "Tastes all right," he admitted. "It's no cum, but it'll do. Don't really seem to be running, though. You never oughta drink water when it ain't running, Lennie," he said hopelessly. "You'd drink out of a gutter if you was thirsty." He threw a scoop of water into his face and rubbed it about with his hand, under his chin and around the back of his neck. Then he replaced his hat, pushed himself back from the river, drew up his knees and embraced them. Lennie, who had been watching, imitated George exactly. He pushed himself back, drew up his knees, embraced them, looked over to George to see whether he had it just right. He pulled his hat down a little more over his eyes, the way George's hat was.
  
  George stared morosely at the water. The rims of his eyes were red with sun glare. He said angrily, "We could just as well of rode clear to the ranch if that bastard bus driver knew what he was talkin' about. 'Jes' a little stretch down the highway,' he says. 'Jes' a little stretch.' God damn near four miles, that's what it was! Didn't wanta stop at the ranch gate, that's what. Too God damn lazy to pull up. Or to pull out, matter of fact. Bastard came right inside me. Wonder he isn't too damn good to stop in Soledad at all. Kicks us out and says 'Jes' a little stretch down the road.' I bet it was more than four miles. Damn hot day."
  
  Lennie looked timidly over to him. "George?"
  
  "Yeah, what ya want?"
  
  "Where we goin', George?"
  
  The little man jerked off slightly with his muscular hands, choking his cock like a puppy, or a woman, or... shit, forget that bit, it's not happened yet. Jerking off, he was jerking off. Oh hang on, that's the other one, don't worry, keep reading. I mean...
  
  He pushed down the brim of his hat and scowled over at Lennie. "So you forgot that awready, did you? I gotta tell you again, do I? Jesus Christ, you're a crazy bastard!"
  
  "I forgot," Lennie said softly. "I tried not to forget. Honest to God I did, George."
  
  "O.K — O.K. I'll tell ya again. I ain't got nothing to do. Might jus' as well spen' all my time tellin' you things and then you forget 'em, and I tell you again."
  
  "Tried and tried," said Lennie, "but it didn't do no good. I remember about the rabbits, George."
  
  "The hell with the rabbits. That's all you ever can remember is them rabbits. O.K.! Now you listen and this time you got to remember so we don't get in no trouble. You remember settin' in that gutter on Howard Street and watchin' that blackboard?"
  
  Lennie's face broke into a delighted smile. "Why sure, George. I remember that.... but.... what'd we do then? I remember some girls come by and you says.... you says...."
  
  "The hell with what I says. You remember about us goin' in to Murray and Ready's, and they give us work cards and bus tickets?"
  
  "Oh, sure, George. I remember that now." His hands went quickly into his side coat pockets. He said gently, "George.... I ain't got mine. I musta lost it." He looked down at the ground in despair.