“He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. Every time he could have caught a marlin, he was too busy going to the men’s room. It made the boy sad to see the old man come in each day with his skiff empty and he always went down to help him either carry the coiled lines or the gaff and harpoon and the sail that was furled around the mast. Then the old man would rush to the can in the Red Lobster because he felt like he needed to take a leak.
Everything about him was old except his eyes which were the color of the sea and were cheerful and undefeated. But his prostate was defeated–enlarged and badly defeated. The old man was thin and gaunt and had deep wrinkles behind his neck, which he noticed one day in a restroom mirror. He sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen made fun of him but he was not angry. He thought he had a going problem, but then his doctor told him that he had a growing problem. That’s when he discovered Flomax.
‘Bad news for you, fish,’ he said and shifted the line over the sacks that covered his shoulders. ‘I am a tired old man. But I have killed this fish which is my brother.’ Later, up the road in his shack, the old man was sleeping again, dreaming about the lions. He had taken a Cialis, so he rested upon a gigantic boner.”
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Tags: Ernest Hemingway