Haymakers for Hemingway
A weekend takedown of the literati
Hey. Ernest. You go like this…
It was hot.
“Should we drink whiskey?” the Illinoisian said.
“I don’t know. What’s whiskey? I don’t know anything.”
“It’s a drink.”
“La-la-la-la-la-la-la!” She put her fingers in her ears.
“Don’t make a scene.”
“I don’t care. Yes, let’s drink whiskey.”
“Do you want whiskey?”
“Only if you do.”
“I wouldn’t want to drink whiskey by myself, Midge. I won’t.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Let’s drink the whiskey.”
“If you want to.”
“Only if you want to.”
“All we ever do is ride on trains and drink whiskey.”
“Yes, that’s it. All we ever do.”
“Let’s drink whiskey.”
“You’ll like the whiskey. Here comes the waiter.”
“Yes?” The waiter was stooped and thin with a thin mustache that stooped on his face.
“Two whiskeys.”
“Big ones?”
“Yes, big ones.”
“Always big ones. Ever, always, only big ones for us.”
The waiter looked at her. Then he went away and came back with two big whiskeys and a small, porcelain pitcher of water. He put them on the table.
“Should we drink the whiskeys with water?”
“Is whiskey good with water?”
“If you like water.”
“I know what water is.”
“Put some in your whiskey. You’ll like it.”
“Yes, and I’ll like the whiskey and I’ll like the water and I’ll like everything and everything that there is to like I’ll like it and we’ll never not like anything ever again.”
“Don’t make a scene, Midge.”
“Do you like your whiskey?”
“I haven’t tried mine yet. I like whiskey.”
“With water?”
“Sometimes.”
“Should we drink these whiskeys with water?”
“Only if you like whiskey and water.”
“I like everything.”
“Let’s drink the whiskey. Try it with water.” He poured water from the porcelain pitcher into both their glasses.
“What is water?”
“It’s like whiskey. It’s good with whiskey.” He drank.
“Was the whiskey good?”
“It was very good.”
“With the water?”
“Yes, it was good with the water.”
“I’ll have mine with the water. Since you say so.”
“I only say so if you say so.”
“I only say what I know you want.”
“Let’s finish the whiskey,” she said. Or maybe it was him who said it. Whichever.
“I’ll get the bags.”
He went to the other side of the platform where the other people were waiting pleasantly. He got the bags and stopped at the bar (yes the train platform bar, the bar in the middle of the train platform…) and drank eleven more whiskeys and returned to the table with the bags.
“Well, Midge,” he said, “Time for that abortion.”
“I’ll scream.”