Hole Punch by Simmons, Garth (the dot read aloud TXT) 📕

One quiet night, in the plaza, Ambrogio was alone with Socrates and said he would do anything to have Socrates' edgy, punk knowledge. Socrates chuckled and told Ambrogio that he could only share his knowledge by physically inserting it into Ambrogio.

Socrates buggered Ambrogio three thousand years (and more) into the future.

Every thrust made Ambrogio spasm and writhe forward fifty years. Pushing Ambrogio past the people, buildings and events of the future. The fall of Rome, King Arthur, the Crusades, the Renaissance, the Black Death, the Industrial Revolution: all of this with a throbbing Socrates up his anus and a grunting Socrates against his ear.

* * *

Sigmund Freud made notes on treating Ambrogio, he describes him as a young man who would “scream and shake like there was something up his bottom.”

“No more knowledge! No more!” screamed Ambrogio on Freud's settee.

What Freud didn’t know is that when Ambrogio looked at him, Sigmund’s genial, misogynistic face would morph into the face of the lustful pederast: Socrates.

“You’re going to have all the knowledge! All the knowledge you can take!”

* * *

Socrates rammed Ambrogio past the Rise of Machines, witnessing the Technological Singularity and the collapse of the Human Reclamation.

As the earth began to die under an expanding red sun: Socrates bundled up Ambrogio’s body and bum pummeled him into the shape of a comet. Ambrogio shot across the stars with Socrates' near climaxing face at his shoulder. Socrates slapped Ambrogio’s cosmic bum cheeks into the heart of a black hole.

From outside of infinity they felt the universe collapsing around them. Gravity inverting around them. At the end of everything Socrates pulled his penis out of Ambrogio and ejaculated a stream of hydrogen and helium and created the conditions for another universe all over Ambrogio's face.

* * *

“Haha.” laughed Socrates, slapping the thigh of the very confused Ambrogio as they lay in bed, back in ancient Athens. “That was a Big Bang alright! Fancy doing that again sometime?”

"Not in fourteen billion years," grumbled Ambrogio.

FOOD

Baldy, Fatty and Perverty all worked at their local abattoir in the village of Goatbridge.

Baldy put his head into dead pigs' mouths.

"Ooo look. Look! Someone likes truffles!" said Baldy, pointing as his head. “Someone likes truffles!"

Fatty removed the intestines and inessential meat parts of the pigs and gobbled them up, raw, only to puke them into a big, metal trough. Fatty then ate the puke.

"Someone likes truffles!" Baldy would laugh. “Someone likes truffles!”

Perverty stood in the corner and smiled at pornography on his mobile phone. Baldy looked over Perverty's shoulder.

"Someone likes truffles! Someone likes truffles! OINK OINK!”

Upstairs, their manager, the food-obsessed Barry Reginald, sat down to write his first ever novel:

"It was a warm, summer’s day. The world was baking like a pie inside an oven. The sun was like a big, bright egg yolk on the plate of the sky. Sunshine drizzled like lemon curd over the fluffy marshmallow clouds which hung like pale, hairless corpses in an abattoir.”

Barry Reginald licked his lips at such appetising words. Pie, egg, lemon curd, marshmallow and meat all in one paragraph. He went on writing with tantalised, excited fingers:

"In the village of Food they liked nothing more than food fucking."

THE TERRIBLE RIDDLE OF THE MARTIAN UNI-BOMBER

Derrick the dog looked through the tinted viewing window of the crowded lounge of Tourist Dome 14B. The sun was setting over the recently colonised Martian landscape. Derrick’s owner was a blind, old woman.

"I wish you could describe this brave, new frontier to me Derrick," said the old woman.

"Woof," barked Derrick.

"I can describe it to you," said a small boy. “It's dead, bleak, pointless and red."

"I didn't know that pointlessness sounds like that," said the old woman.

“Sounds like what?” said the small boy.

"Like the ticking of a clock."

“Woof,” barked Derrick.

Half a second later, the entire tourist dome exploded because a bomb had been hidden in a bin.

* * *

"Die infidels!" laughed Zargid Bee Splice, who watched the explosion of Tourist Dome 14B from atop a mountain.

As the self-proclaimed messiah of the native Martians Zargid Bee Splice was happy to destroy Earth tourists and colonists. Like all Martians, Zargid Bee Splice was green-skinned, wore a turban and had a love of killing humanity.

Zargid Bee Splice admired the explosion. It was beautiful.

"Take that up your political allegory!" laughed Zargid Bee Splice. “Who is the terrorist now? I’m the terrorist! Me! Die infidels!”

He hopped on his space scooter and whizzed away, his big, mad, terrorist head laughing.

"I'm going to blow up more humans! I'm going to blow up every human on Mars. That'll keep them away! Die infidels!"

Zargid Bee Splice's space scooter crashed into the outer wall of the Colonial Police Station.

* * *

Zargid Bee Splice lay in bed in a coma inside a prison cell. Sherrif Den Apparti of the Martian Police stood over him.

"We've got you now Zargid Bee Whatever Your Name Is. You came straight into our trap and now you’re banged up forever. If only you had come to us sooner, then three thousand people would not be dead. Thankfully, we have saved more lives by arresting you when you crashed your scooter into our station. Another victory to the Martian Police, and to me, for solving the Terrible Riddle of the Martian Uni-Bomber."

THEORY

All things originate from a source.

If we understand that source then we understand that we are all one and we all come from the same place. There is no point in resistance. We must to submit to our source if we want to be happy. If we do not submit then we drift into despair. We do not want despair. We are all in this together. So let us cling together to the source of all things and to the source of us.

Read the above with derision.

Theory is a figment