Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck Voice Over Script
George came quietly out of the brush. George said quietly, “What the h**l you yellin’ about?”
Lennie got up on his knees. “You ain’t gonna leave me, are ya, George? I know you ain’t.”
George came stiffly near and sat down beside him. “No.”
“I knowed it,” Lennie cried. “You ain’t that kind.”
George was silent.
Lennie said, “George.”
“Yeah?”
“I done another bad thing.”
“It don’t make no difference,” George said, and he fell silent again.
Only the topmost ridges were in the sun now. The shadow in the valley was blue and soft. From the distance came the sound of men shouting to one another. George turn his head and listened to the shouts.
Lennie said, “George.”
“Yeah?”
“Ain’t you gonna give me h**l?”
“Give ya h**l?”
“Sure, like you always done before. Like ‘If I di’n’t have you I’d take my fifty bucks –”
“Jesus Christ, Lennie! You can’t remember nothing that happens, But you remember ever’ word I say.”
“Well, ain’t you gonna say it?”
George shook himself. He said woodenly, “If I was alone I could live so easy.” His voice was monotonous, had no emphasis. “I could get a job an’ not have no mess.” He stopped.
“Go on,” said Lennie.
“An’ when the enda the month come–. An’ when the enda the month come I could take my fifty bucks an’ go to a… cathouse…” He stopped again.
Lennie looked eagerly at him. “Go on George. Ain’t you gonna give me no more h**l?”
“No,” said George.
“Well, I can go away,” said Lennie. “I’ll go right off in the hills an’ find a cave if you don’ want me.”
George shook himself again. “No,” he said. “I want you to stay with me here.”
Lennie said craftily — “Tell me like you done before.”
“Tell you what?”
“ ‘Bout the other guys an’ about us.”
George said. “Guys like us got no family. They make a little stake an’ then blow it in. They ain’t got nobody in the worl’ that give a hoot in h**l about ‘em—“
“But not us,” Lennie cried happily. “Tell about us now.”
George was quiet for a moment. “But not us,” he said.
“Because –”
“Because I got you an’ — “
“An’ I got you. We got each other, that’s what, that gives a hoot in h**l about us,” Lennie cried in triumph. The little evening breeze blew over the clearing and the leaves rustled and the wind waves flowed up the green pool. And the shouts of men sounded again, this time much closer than before.
George took off his hat. He said shakily, “Take off your hat, Lennie . The air feels fine.” Lennie removed his hat dutifully and laid it on the ground in front of him. The shadow in the valley was bluer, and the evening came fast. On the wind the sound of crashing through the brush came to them.
Lennie said, “Tell how it’s gonna be.” George had been listening to the distant sounds. For the moment he was business-like.
“Look acrost the river, Lennie, an I’ll tell you so you can almost see it.”
Lennie turned his head and looked off across the pool and up the darkening slopes of the Gabilans.
“We gonna get a little place,” George began. He reached in his side pocket and brought out Carlson’s Luger; he snapped off the safety, and the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Lennie’s back. He looked at the back of Lennie’s head, at the place where the spine and skull were joined.
A man’s voice called from up the river, and another man answered.
“Go on,” said Lennie. George raised the gun and his hand shook, and he dropped his hand to the ground again.
“Go on,” said Lennie. “How’s it gonna be? We gonna get a little place.”
“We’ll have a cow,” said George. “An’ we’ll have maybe a pig an’ chickens….an’ down on the flat we’ll have a….little piece of alfalfa—”
“For the Rabbits.” Lennie shouted.
“For the Rabbits.” George repeated.
“And I get to tend the rabbits.”
“An’ you get to tend the rabbits.”
Lennie giggled with happiness.
“An’ live on the fatta the lan’.”
“Yes.”
Lennie turned his head.
“No, Lennie. Look down there acrost the river, like you can almost see the place.” Lennie obeyed him. George looked down at the gun. There were crashing footsteps in the brush now. George turned and looked toward them.
“Go on, George. When we gonna do it?”
“Gonna do it soon.”
“Me an’ you.”
“You…. an’ me. Ever’body gonna be nice to you. Ain’t gonna be no more trouble. Nobody gonna hurt nobody nor steal from ‘em.”
Lennie said, “I thought you was mad at me, George.”
“No,” said George. “No, Lennie. I ain’t mad. I never been mad, an I ain’t now. That’s the thing I want you to know.” The voices came close now. George raised the gun and listened to the voices.
Lennie begged, “Le’s do it now. Le’s get that place now.”
“Sure, right now. I gotta. We gotta.”
And George raised the gun and steadied it, and he brought the muzzle of it close to the back of Lennie’s head. The hand shook violently, but his face set and his hand steadied. He pulled the trigger.
The crash of the shot rolled up the hills and down again. Lennie jarred, and then settled slowly forward to the sand, and he lay without quivering. George shivered and looked at the gun, and then he threw it from him, back up on the bank, by the old pile of ashes.
The brush seemed filled with cries and with the sound of running feet.
Slim’s voice shouted, “George, where you at, George?”
But George sat stiffly on the bank and looked at his hand that had thrown the gun away. The group burst into the clearing, and Curly was ahead. He saw Lennie lying on the sand. “Got him, by G*d.” He went over and looked down at Lennie, and then he looked back at George. “Right in the back of the head,” he said softly.
Slim came directly to George and sat down beside him, sat very close to him.
“Never you mind,” said Slim. “A guy gotta sometimes.”
But Carlson was standing over George. “How’d you do it?” he asked.
“I just done it.” George said tiredly.
“Did he have my gun?”
“Yeah, He had your gun.”
“An’ you got it away from him and you took it an’ killed him?”
“Yeah, tha’s how.” George’s voice was almost a whisper. He looked steadily at his right hand that had held the gun.
Slim twitched George’s elbow.
“Come on, George. Me an’ you’ll go in an’ get a drink.”
George let himself be helped to his feet. “Yeah, a drink.”
Slim said, “You hadda, George. I swear you hadda. Come on with me.
He led George to entrance of the trail and up toward the highway.
Curly and Carlson looked after them. And Carlson said, “Now what the h**l ya suppose is eatin’ them two guys?”
TOP-10 Scripts from Edge Studio's Voice Over Script Library
[Skyrim opens with an Imperial wagon driving four prisoners down a snowy mountain pass. All are seated and bound; the one dressed in finery is gagged.]
Ralof: Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.
Lokir: D**n you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there. You and me — we should be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.
Ralof: We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.
Imperial Soldier: Shut up back there!
[Lokir looks at the gagged man.]
Lokir: And what’s wrong with him?
Ralof: Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.
Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?
Ralof: I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.
Lokir: No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.
Ralof: Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?
Lokir: Why do you care?
Ralof: A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.
Lokir: Rorikstead. I’m…I’m from Rorikstead.
[They approach the village of Helgen. A soldier calls out to the lead wagon.]
Imperial Soldier: General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!
General Tullius: Good. Let’s get this over with.
Lokir: Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.
Ralof: Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. D**n elves. I bet they had something to do with this. This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny…when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.
[A man and son watch the prisoners pull into town.]
Haming: Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?
Torolf: You need to go inside, little cub.
Haming: Why? I want to watch the soldiers.
Torolf: Inside the house. Now.
Galadriel: (speaking partly in Elvish)
(I amar prestar aen.)
The world is changed.
(Han matho ne nen.)
I feel it in the water.
(Han mathon ned cae.)
I feel it in the earth.
(A han noston ned gwilith.)
I smell it in the air.
Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.
It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf-Lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else desire power. For within these rings was bound the strength and the will to govern each race. But they were all of them deceived, for another ring was made. Deep in the land of Mordor, in the Fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged a master ring, and into this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life.
One ring to rule them all.
One by one, the free lands of Middle-Earth fell to the power of the Ring, but there were some who resisted. A last alliance of men and elves marched against the armies of Mordor, and on the very slopes of Mount Doom, they fought for the freedom of Middle-Earth. Victory was near, but the power of the ring could not be undone. It was in this moment, when all hope had faded, that Isildur, son of the king, took up his father’s sword.
Sauron, enemy of the free peoples of Middle-Earth, was defeated. The Ring passed to Isildur, who had this one chance to destroy evil forever, but the hearts of men are easily corrupted. And the ring of power has a will of its own. It betrayed Isildur, to his death.
And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the ring passed out of all knowledge. Until, when chance came, it ensnared another bearer.
It came to the creature Gollum, who took it deep into the tunnels of the Misty Mountains. And there it consumed him. The ring gave to Gollum unnatural long life. For five hundred years it poisoned his mind, and in the gloom of Gollum’s cave, it waited. Darkness crept back into the forests of the world. Rumor grew of a shadow in the East, whispers of a nameless fear, and the Ring of Power perceived its time had come. It abandoned Gollum, but then something happened that the Ring did not intend. It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable: a hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire.
For the time will soon come when hobbits will shape the fortunes of all.
To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark, dock,
In a pestilential prison, with a life-long lock,
Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp, shock,
From a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block!
Do I really look like a guy with a plan, Harvey?
I don’t have a plan …
The mob has plans. The cops have plans.
You know what I am, Harvey? I am a dog chasing cars… I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it.
I just do things. I am just the wrench in the gears. I hate plans.
Yours, theirs, everyone’s. Maroni has plans. Gordon has plans.
Schemers trying to control their worlds.
I am not a schemer. I show the schemer how pathetic their attempts to control things really are.
So when I say that you and your girlfriend was nothing personal, you know I am telling the truth.
I just did what I do best. I took your plan and turned it on itself.
Look what I have done to this city with a few drums of gas and a couple of bullets.
Nobody panics when the expected people gets killed. Nobody panics when things go according to plan, even if the plan is horrifying.
If I tell the press that tomorrow a gangbanger will get shot or a truckload of soldiers will be blown up, nobody panics. – because it’s all part of the plan.
But when I say that one little old mayor will die, everybody lose their minds.
Introduce a little anarchy, you upset the established order and everything becomes chaos.
I am agent of chaos.
And you know the thing about chaos Harvey?
“IT is FAIR.”
Hello, ladies, look at your man, now back to me, now back at your man, now back to me. Sadly, he isn’t me, but if he stopped using ladies scented body wash and switched to Old Spice, he could smell like he’s me. Look down, back up, where are you? You’re on a boat with the man your man could smell like. What’s in your hand, back at me. I have it, it’s an oyster with two tickets to that thing you love. Look again, the tickets are now diamonds. Anything is possible when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady. I’m on a horse.
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