There are too many holes in this story. Like trying to count the orifices of SpongeBob SquarePants’ holes. Is he merely a sponge full of holes? A two-dimensional cartoon character that, unlike a sponge, doesn’t hold water. But nevertheless, people have attempted to count them. Why? They must be very driven or bored. It’s like counting Swiss cheese holes or craters on the moon. The misunderstood man in the moon with a bad case of acne up there in the firmament that some believe to be heaven. Technically speaking, the depth and width of the sky where it’s believed you go when you die are highly suspect.
Then, there’s the other end, where hell sits at the bottom of somewhere no one really knows precisely in one gigantic hole. It’s a deep descent into the subject of holes. Theoretically, we have seven holes. Maybe nine holes if you count your eyes, but those holes are filled with eyeballs. You could have a hole to fill on the golf course, but there are 18 holes on the fairway, and the 19th is at the watering hole.
Topologically, the human form could be a torus. A circle has depth, but the digestive tract is the one true hole. Like a donut, bagel, lifesaver, or that smoke ring that passes through a cavernous tube-like cylindrical pipe hole. Does a straw have one hole or two? It all depends on how you look at either end. We need to know that answer like another hole in the head. Holes are where you find them. Just don’t step in a gopher hole and break your leg. In wars, foxholes are a good place to hide from your enemies during ground-level skirmishes that can be seen by aircraft high overhead. So, you really can’t hide in a hole like an ostrich, head in the sand, or hunker down in the bunker or in the basement, wishing for a fallout shelter.
There’s an empty void in space so huge that if you traveled across it, you wouldn’t see or bump into anything for 752,536,988 years. That’s a random number of years no one knows about. Similar to a bucket full of holes, it doesn’t hold water. Speculations abound on the nature of black holes in space sucking up anything that crosses their path only to be spewed out of a white hole, the reverse effect being like the giant ass of the universe. There are also gray holes, which are combinations of black and white holes in galaxies that no one can explain or identify, like sucking and spitting simultaneously into the void of spacey things and running on spent time.
There are seven levels of heaven and nine rings of hell. There’s also limbo and purgatory, which are more like ruts to get stuck in than old holes somewhere. Behind seven veils lie dreams of reason, passion, bliss, courage, compassion, and knowledge. The dance of the seven veils is performed by belly dancers who wiggle their belly buttonholes within holes. They’re consummate inside the creation of life, dwelling in the ultimate hole of the uterus. That’s a subjective hole. Most men spend nine months trying to escape it from the inside out, and the rest of their lives trying to get back in. Others prefer delivery in the rear. There are holes in the soul, but not in your shoe.
These theories are well-studied and suitable for research on the development of astronomical phenomena. Within the gravitational forces that push and pull into and out of life and into death. Death’s the biggest hole. And the worms have their way, dancing and twisting the night away. Burrowing through while digesting flesh, wood, fruit, books, and other alleged solid materials. Creating cavities, tubes, and tunnels leads to passages toward other places, leaving endless holes in their wake. Falling down rabbit holes deeper than the ground into dust. The stuff of stars is way down low inside the box, which holds the round peg.
A tight fit in there always helps create a hole. Underneath the volcano, spewing magma fills the whole earth with fresh new lava land. Hot stuff is coming through. Look out! Stuck in the middle of nowhere, muck. Are the holy holiest? Any old abyss will do. A brilliant void in the tunnel of bright light beckons. Come toward the light. Follow the path to higher ground, or turn around, look, and face it. Looking straight into the past. Behind the curtain of reality lies the belying depth of artificial intelligence. A cubby space to hide out in. Hey hombre! You shot a hole in my belly the size of a golf ball. I guess you got a hole in one. Going down the drain, grasping for loopholes.