Max, thoroughly stoned and staring intently at the toasted bagel on his plate, suddenly found himself grappling with what he believed was the most profound question of existence: What if the hole in the bagel is a portal to another dimension?
Max sat at his kitchen table, eyes locked on the bagel before him. It was toasted to perfection—golden and warm, its edges lightly crisped. A knife dipped into the tub of cream cheese, scooped a generous dollop, and hovered above the bagel. Then, Max froze.
The thought came unbidden, like a whisper from the universe: What if the hole in the bagel is a portal to another dimension?
He blinked. A quiet laugh escaped his lips, but the thought lingered, settling deeper in his mind. His knife, still suspended, trembled as if wary of disrupting the sacred geometry of the bagel.
“Think about it,” he muttered to himself. “It’s not just a hole. It’s nothingness, surrounded by everything.”
This realization launched him into a spiral of philosophical wonder. Was the bagel defined by the hole, or was the hole defined by the bagel? And if the hole wasn’t there, would the bagel even be a bagel—or just bread?
Max shoved the untouched bagel aside and opened his laptop. His fingers flew across the keyboard. History of bagels. Symbolism of circles. What is a hole, scientifically?
Hours passed. Max’s browser tabs multiplied like rabbits. Wikipedia led to obscure academic papers, which led to a Reddit thread on bagel lore. He scribbled notes on a pad of paper, sketching crude diagrams of bagels and wormholes, connecting them with arrows.
“Max!” His roommate, Kevin, leaned against the doorway, still in his pajamas. “What the hell are you doing?”
Max whirled around, brandishing his notebook like a holy text. “Dude. Have you ever thought about the hole in a bagel? Like, really thought about it?”
Kevin stared at him. “No. Because I’m not insane.”
“Okay, but listen!” Max gestured wildly. “The hole represents absence, but without it, the bagel wouldn’t exist. It’s like… yin and yang! Light and shadow! You can’t have one without the other!”
Kevin sighed. “You’re high, aren’t you?”
Max grinned sheepishly. “Maybe. But that’s not the point.”
Despite Kevin’s skepticism, Max couldn’t let it go. Over the next few days, he refined his theory, presenting it to anyone who would listen. Friends. Coworkers. A random barista. Most reactions ranged from mild amusement to outright concern, but one friend, Ellie, surprised him.
“Actually,” she said, sipping her latte, “that’s kind of beautiful. The idea that absence can define something? It’s like… life. We’re always trying to fill voids, but maybe we just need to appreciate them for what they are.”
Max felt a surge of validation. Ellie got it.
On the seventh day of his obsession, Max sat back at his kitchen table. The same bagel, now stale and unappetizing, still lay before him. He stared at it, feeling both victorious and exhausted.
“Life is like a bagel,” he declared to no one in particular. “You can try to fill the hole, but sometimes, you just have to appreciate the whole.”
He grinned, took a triumphant bite, and chewed thoughtfully.
The bagel was delicious.
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"This morning, during my usual 'wake and bake' session, I spread some cream cheese on my bagel, sipped my coffee, and took a toke. As I gazed at the bagel, I wondered if I could write a story about it. And so, Through the Bagel Hole was born."