A few miles south of San Francisco, a real estate bubble swells close to bursting, and a river of investment money runs deep and green. One evening in a cheap motel room outside Palo Alto…
LENNIE: George, tell how it’s goin’ to be.
GEORGE: Well, we’ll have a big vegetable patch and a rabbit hutch and chickens and a 7,000 square-foot Hacienda with a little landing pad on the top deck for a helicopter. It’d be more’n enough land and we’d have stock options so we’d only have to work four, three hours a day, not slingin’ code for fifteen hours a day for somebody else.
LENNIE: Tell how we gonna do it, George!
GEORGE: We just gotta get our start-up launched with some venture capital or angel investments. We bust our hump coding, launch in a few months, expand our user base rapidly, then cash the hell out when it goes public. Then you’ll have your rabbits. Then the cream’ll be so thick and farm-fresh you can cut it with a knife.
LENNIE: You damn right it’ll be thick and farm-fresh! I’ll feed the cream to my rabbits and I bet they’ll like it, by Jesus!
GEORGE: Just remember: don’t say a word to anybody. Once the investors see how much code you can throw down we’ll be fine. But if you open your damn trap they’re liable to show us the door. So let me negotiate the terms.
LENNIE: I won’t say no word, George.
Later, at the angel investor’s office…
GEORGE: Sorry we’re late. Our, our Uber drive dropped us off four blocks away. Gave us a bum steer.
ANGEL INVESTOR: Fellas, I’ve been looking over your proposal. I like it a lot. Tell me about your last project.
GEORGE: It was up in Seattle. Got laid off once the job was done.
ANGEL INVESTOR: You too?
GEORGE: Yeah, him too.
ANGEL INVESTOR: Not much of a talker, is he?
GEORGE: No, but he’s a hell of a worker. He can code like you’d think it was two men. I’m not saying he’s bright, but he’s a hell of a worker.
A week later at the new office, after securing funding from the angel investor…
GEORGE: Hey, Candy! What the hell are you doing bringing that damn dog in here?
CANDY: This dog? Tell you what: it’s to promote a relaxed atmosphere. Along with the pinball machine and the beanbag futons. I’ve had this here dog ever since he was a pup. He’s been with me all these years. Had him back when I had two good hands, haha.
GEORGE: Well, he stinks to beat all hell. Keep him away from our side. And speaking of which: is that stubby wrist your excuse for how slow you work?
CANDY: (rubs his amputated hand nervously) I think I get by pretty good with one hand. Tell you what—
GEORGE: No, I’ll tell you what. If you keep putting along at this pace and miss another deadline, that dog is getting a bullet in its ear.
Eleven months later, at the same office…
GEORGE: You done good work, Lennie. By God, but you can code like a sonofabitch!
LENNIE: Does this mean you gonna let me tend the rabbits, George?
GEORGE: We’re getting there, Lennie. We still got to expand our user base and modify our conversion funnel before we can get to the IPO phase. We’re not far from her, though.
LENNIE: And then the rabbits?
GEORGE: Yeah, yeah, then a lot of goddamn rabbits. Here, eat your sushi.
LENNIE: I like my sushi with ketchup.
GEORGE: Well, we don’t got any!
Later that evening, while Lennie is still at work and George has left for the evening…
CROOKS: You know George is jus’ usin’ you? He ain’t never gonna give you no rabbits.
LENNIE: Thas not true! He’s gonna give ’em to me soon, he says.
CROOKS: Maybe he will. But s’pose I told you they was people who could give ya the softest rabbits you want—right now?
LENNIE: I’m not… I’m not doin’ nothin’ without asking George.
CROOKS: Suit yourself. Your loss. [Turns to walk away]
LENNIE: Wait! Come back!
The next day, at the office…
CURLEY: (coming from the bathroom back to his cubicle) Hey, where’s my glove? Who took my glove?
GEORGE: I ain’t seen it.
CURLEY: Well I can’t code without my glove or I’ll get Vaseline all over the keys! Who the hell took it? Was it that big sonofabitch?
GEORGE: Couldn’t’ve been Lennie. He been out sick all day. Said he had a stomachache.
CURLEY: Out sick! Goddammit, we’re twenty-four hours from the IPO!
Meanwhile, across town…
GOOGLE REP: OK, Lennie. Is it a deal?
LENNIE: I wanna to hold ‘em, first. To see if they’s as soft as you promised.
The next morning, at Lennie and George’s apartment…
GEORGE: Come on, Lennie. We got to go to work.
LENNIE: We not goin’ there, anymore, George. We goin’ somewhere else.
GEORGE: Lennie, stop fooling around.
LENNIE: George, I got to tell you somthin’.
GEORGE: No, listen to me, Lennie. Dammit, I wanted to surprise you at work, but the IPO is today. We done it, buddy! I didn’t want to tell you so you wouldn’t lose your focus. After today we’ll go out and I’ll buy you the biggest goddamn rabbit you ever saw.
LENNIE: Uh-oh.
GEORGE: What?
LENNIE: George. I done a bad thing.
GEORGE: What in’a hell’d you do?
A Google Bus arrives outside and opens its doors for them.
GEORGE: [peering out the window] What’s this doin’ here? This ain’t for us, is it?
LENNIE: I done a bad thing, George. I signed us up to work for Google.
GEORGE: Oh, Jesus, Lennie.
LENNIE: I had ta, George. I had ta get my rabbits! I didn’t know!
GEORGE: Lennie, by God, please, please tell me you didn’t sign us up to work at Google for nothing! Please tell me you didn’t sign us up to bust our hump coding in exchange for rabbits.
LENNIE: No, no, George. Not rabbits, George. A million rabbits. Soft ones.