Dialect and Vernacular

S’pose George don’t come back no more. S’pose he took a powder and just ain’t coming back. What’ll you do then?

"I ain’t a southern negro," he said. "I was born right here in California. My old man had a chicken ranch, ’bout ten acres. The white kids come to play at our place, an’ sometimes I went to play with them, and some of them was pretty nice. ..."

Now maybe George ain’t gonna let me tend no rabbits, if he fin’s out you got killed.

"Please don’t," he begged. "Oh! Please don’t do that. George’ll be mad."

"You God damn tramp," he said viciously. "You done it, di’n’t you? I s’pose you’re glad. Ever’body knowed you’d mess things up. ..."

I like to pet nice things. Once at a fair I seen some of them long–hair rabbits. An’ they was nice, you bet. Sometimes I’ve even pet mice, but not when I could get nothing better.

And Lennie said softly to the puppy, "Why do you got to get killed? You ain’t so little as mice. I didn’t bounce you hard."

Couldn’ we maybe bring him in an’ they’ll lock him up? He’s nuts, Slim. He never done this to be mean.

I done a bad thing. I done another bad thing.

"God damn you," he cried. "Why do you got to get killed? You ain’t so little as mice." He picked up the pup and hurled it from him.