Picture a board book, with a round hole through the center. The hole grows smaller with each page, missing entirely on the last.
Page 1. Vague interior with “wallpaper” that looks like a cute diaper pattern. A painting is literally Photoshopped in. The hole IS the main character:
There once was a little butthole, who lived in a snug little home. It was warm, soft and carpeted. He even a Vermeer painting. (So I’m told. I’m pretty sure that’s a Cassatt.)
Page 2. The butthole tosses his Trilby hat onto the coatrack:
The butthole had a nice life. He did some work, usually every day, sometimes less, sometimes more. The work was boring, but it needed to be done.
Page 3. Buckets & flower pots are out catching leaks, but it’s not interruping his evening on the barcalounger:
True, sometimes his house would get a bit wet. But, into every life some rain must fall. He didn’t usually mind.
Page 4. He’s tiredly thrown the trilby, and missed the rack. The pots are in disarray. The Cassatt is crooked:
Usually. There came a time when the work got too much. No sooner did one job end when he’d be needed for another. And another. And another.
Page 5. Flooded! He’s in a rowboat, with his coatrack and his soaked Cassatt. The trilby floats:
Worse, his home was CONSTANTLY flooded!
He started to get tired. He started to get sore. He started to get angry. Pretty soon he was angry, and sore, and tired, and...
Page 6. Big radiating anger lines, on a page of solid:
RED!
There was only one thing to do. Nothing else could make the butthole happy again. He needed to leave his snug little home. He needed to go out into the big, windy world. He needed...
Page 7: Two page spread of a gorgeous, sunny landscape, bursting with color. A couple of chubby back legs and heels are visible below:
Naked Time!
Page 8: Art gallery, with a Vermeer and a Cassatt in background. Midground, the bottom 2/3 of a woman, turning around startled. Foreground, the backside of a man, his unseen butthole where the tiny hole on the previous page would have been:
This story, from my own butthole, happened a long time ago. As we all know, every butthole has a story to tell. Often quite loudly.
The End