Of Mice And Men- Crooks Monologue
CONTROLLED ASSESSMENT
Crooks lie motionless on his straw filled box, staring up at the cracked ceiling of the stable. His light is flickering in the opposite corner of the cramped room. Moonlight shines through his small, square, four paned window- the only view of the outside world. Gleaming stars twinkle above in the American sky and the misery on Crooks’ face is indescribable. All is silent.
Crooks: Guys like me, we ain’t treated the same (frowns with anger and frustration) as the other guys.
(Stands cautiously and stumbles as he walks to the window) Ya see, im just a busted-back nigger who ain’t got nobody to turn to. An’ sometimes I just set in my room figurn’ bout what my life would be like if I weren’t black.
(Gazes up into the stars through the shiny glass of a cracked window) S’pose I weren’t, I could play cards with the other guys in the bunk house and laugh with ‘em and I could go into town and I would never ever be alone. Life would be swell.
(Smiles to himself, his features light up, still gazing into the dark, moonlit sky) I could actually know what it feels like to have someone who’s there for me. It’s a disease ya know, loneliness. It eats away at you, slowly, tearin’ you limb from limb. A virus that sends some people insane. When the other guys stabled me in here I was glad o’ the quiet, but after a while ya just wanna’ talk to somebody. Back when I was a kid, my ol’ man used to be outraged when I played with the white kids. I never understood why, but now I do. God damn,
(Pauses, as the gloomy emotion wipes from his face and rage takes over. He abruptly closes the thin material of the curtains which hung there)
I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. My lifes never gonna’ change, for as long as I live and for as long as anyone else lives, blacks will always be caged up and treated like a piece of dirt in the corner. Why can’t I just be treated the same? What did I ever do to anyone? I ain’t hurt nobody, I ain’t done
Crooks lie motionless on his straw filled box, staring up at the cracked ceiling of the stable. His light is flickering in the opposite corner of the cramped room. Moonlight shines through his small, square, four paned window- the only view of the outside world. Gleaming stars twinkle above in the American sky and the misery on Crooks’ face is indescribable. All is silent.
Crooks: Guys like me, we ain’t treated the same (frowns with anger and frustration) as the other guys.
(Stands cautiously and stumbles as he walks to the window) Ya see, im just a busted-back nigger who ain’t got nobody to turn to. An’ sometimes I just set in my room figurn’ bout what my life would be like if I weren’t black.
(Gazes up into the stars through the shiny glass of a cracked window) S’pose I weren’t, I could play cards with the other guys in the bunk house and laugh with ‘em and I could go into town and I would never ever be alone. Life would be swell.
(Smiles to himself, his features light up, still gazing into the dark, moonlit sky) I could actually know what it feels like to have someone who’s there for me. It’s a disease ya know, loneliness. It eats away at you, slowly, tearin’ you limb from limb. A virus that sends some people insane. When the other guys stabled me in here I was glad o’ the quiet, but after a while ya just wanna’ talk to somebody. Back when I was a kid, my ol’ man used to be outraged when I played with the white kids. I never understood why, but now I do. God damn,
(Pauses, as the gloomy emotion wipes from his face and rage takes over. He abruptly closes the thin material of the curtains which hung there)
I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. My lifes never gonna’ change, for as long as I live and for as long as anyone else lives, blacks will always be caged up and treated like a piece of dirt in the corner. Why can’t I just be treated the same? What did I ever do to anyone? I ain’t hurt nobody, I ain’t done