Hemmy and I
Hemingway wanted me to go fishing with him and Nick Adams today but I told him I was too busy. He was having some trouble understanding and I wasn't too sure if I'd ever be able to clarify the matter for him.
"The day is young. The trout will bite. The river will be calm as it passes over the rocks. This is the time," he said.
Look Hem, I have to read one of your stupid books and then write an essay, so essentially you are the reason I can't do something with you. And by the way, you can put more than four words in a sentence. I know you have a style and all, but I think you could really up the efficiency.
Hemingway looked at Carmen for a long while before casting his gaze elsewhere. "I suppose," he started tentatively, "I suppose I always thought that if I came back from the dead you'd be more inclined to come out and do something." He looked up at her again, but this time for longer.
Alright, first things first Hemmy. That last sentence was good because it was relatively long; that's what I wanna see. Or don't, I dunno I guess I don't care all that much. Second thing. The fact that you're resurrecting from the dead JUST to go fishing with Nick and I only adds to your already large fame. In essence, it's the sheer impossibility of your current actions that will result in the certain necessity of my essay. If you had just stayed dead, my prof probably would have assigned us something else to read.
Hemingway looked slightly defeated and his eyes conveyed sadness. "She is very blunt," he thought to himself. He threw his fishing pole over his shoulder and began walking down the street, away from Carmen.
"Another day," he said slowly without looking back, "We'll go to Pamplona and run with the bulls."
Hemingway kicked a stone near his foot and it scuffled along for a while before falling into a drain. He didn't hear it hit the water below, but he knew that it sunk none the less. He moved the fishing pole to his other shoulder.
"The day is young. The trout will bite. The river will be calm as it passes over the rocks. This is the time," he said.
Look Hem, I have to read one of your stupid books and then write an essay, so essentially you are the reason I can't do something with you. And by the way, you can put more than four words in a sentence. I know you have a style and all, but I think you could really up the efficiency.
Hemingway looked at Carmen for a long while before casting his gaze elsewhere. "I suppose," he started tentatively, "I suppose I always thought that if I came back from the dead you'd be more inclined to come out and do something." He looked up at her again, but this time for longer.
Alright, first things first Hemmy. That last sentence was good because it was relatively long; that's what I wanna see. Or don't, I dunno I guess I don't care all that much. Second thing. The fact that you're resurrecting from the dead JUST to go fishing with Nick and I only adds to your already large fame. In essence, it's the sheer impossibility of your current actions that will result in the certain necessity of my essay. If you had just stayed dead, my prof probably would have assigned us something else to read.
Hemingway looked slightly defeated and his eyes conveyed sadness. "She is very blunt," he thought to himself. He threw his fishing pole over his shoulder and began walking down the street, away from Carmen.
"Another day," he said slowly without looking back, "We'll go to Pamplona and run with the bulls."
Hemingway kicked a stone near his foot and it scuffled along for a while before falling into a drain. He didn't hear it hit the water below, but he knew that it sunk none the less. He moved the fishing pole to his other shoulder.
posted by lowercasecarmen at 1:47 PM
1 Comments:
There's always Vonnegut. He even had cartoons in his books.
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