Loved this!

I thought this was the perfect situation to write some Bad Hemingway sprinkled in with some Dr. Suess. So here is my version of The Old Gardener and the Green.

Ernest Hemingway hated flowers. He hated gardens.

He came out each morning to tell me.

"Mums and azaleas. Hate them." said he.

He liked fish a lot better. Especially with batter.

Every morning the drunk came to the garden with the same request. "Why can't you invent a trout flower?"

So I quit.

Hemingway was sad. Then mad. Then drunk.

It was a thorny day when I left to work for Gertrude Stein.

THE END

BTW, did you know that Hemingway is a self-help guru on Medium?