Some Kind of Connection

I was working underneath my car on the transmission when the ghost of Ernest Hemingway slid next to me.

Ernest Hemingway said, “Nothing made me feel more like a man than when I worked on my car. The feel of oil and road dirt on my fingers, the smell of gasoline and rust in my nostrils.”

I said, “I’ll never know what it feels like to be a woman because I’m a man, and since I’ve only been a man, I can’t contrast it with anything else to be able to say what it’s like to be a man.”

Ernest Hemingway thought about it. Then he said, “I had a pet fish named Flanders. I spent hours, sometimes the entire day watching him swim around the fish bowl. I so wanted to know what it felt like to be a fish. But my fascination could never be translated into affinity. In the end, I reached into the fish bowl, grabbed Flanders and ate him raw. I felt him struggle as he went down my throat. I was certain I could feel him flopping around my stomach.”

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