Only Morons Read Hemingway

My bell was rung like I’d just gut suckered by a sledgehammer highball, and all the nurses were on vacation, and there really is no simple way to ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to, but the streets were slick and smooth, and the rain hadn’t happened yet, and the sun wasn’t partaking in the occasion. Sometimes the rolling, verdurous hills run away with the elephants. And sometimes, well, sometimes, like when the streets are…