His voice trembled with emotion. "Why, they're everywhere. They're in
pots and pans, in pipes, in rocket jets, in bumpy roads. There are
buttonholes and well holes, and shoelace holes. There are doughnut
holes and stocking holes and woodpecker holes and cheese holes. Oceans
lie in holes in the earth, and rivers and canals and valleys. The
craters of the Moon are holes. Everything is--"
"But, John," I said as patiently as possible, "what have these holes
got to do with you?"
He glowered at me as if I were unworthy of such a confidence. "What
have they to do with me?" he shrilled. "I can't find the right
one--that's what!"