Text:
Every inch of your tool will be screaming about your manhood.
Being a real man is a very hard task so do your best.
Analysis: In the first line, the author’s raw emotion steals the show. The personification of the tool crying out is distressing enough on its own: one can imagine such an instrument’s cries to be piercing and mechanical, akin to the sound of scraping metal on metal, sparks flying. Moreover, the identification of the object as “your tool” effectively places the instrument in the reader’s hands, taking what was once simply audible screaming and transforming it into the tactile; in this case, the unpleasant vibrations we frequently experience when operating modern, motorized gadgets such as power saws.
The author reinforces this tactile discomfort by stressing that not just all of the saw, but in fact every inch of its rubber grip is vibrating so unpleasantly that it is engaging every nerve cluster in the reader’s hand. By using a uniquely concrete word like inch, the author drives deeper into the physical world, highlighting the reader’s struggle as he presses harder to drive the tool deeper into the solid metal pipe, until, breathing heavily, he is overwhelmed by the sheer tactile sensation and accidently loosens his grip, causing the tool to slip out of its groove and onto the floor, still spinning as the reader clutches his buzzing hands with a grimace.
The reader’s dad, and several of his more macho friends gathered in the shop, chuckle at his mistake, and he sighs, feeling weak and impotent knowing that he cannot fill even this basic male role. His husky chum Arnold takes over without gloves and finishes it off in a few seconds, leading to more shame for the poor humiliated reader. It’s not his fault that he has a weak upper body, it’s just genetics, but he can’t help but feel that in this moment he has lost a piece of what the author so poignantly describes as his “manhood.”
The second line I take literally.
