Just outside the universe there is a grapevine. This is not to say, of course, that it would make any sense for a grapevine to be just outside the universe, that would be silly. Nevertheless, a grapevine is there. Generally, anything outside the universe quickly becomes added to the universe after its discovery; but territorial disputes prevented this in the case of the grapevine. Through this grapevine can be heard all concepts and ideas, those held by grapes being the loudest. Also possible to hear through the grapevine is Dawson Filter, if one listens on 4 December 2015 in the same fictional world as the one in which our story is set.
Dawson Filter peered through the hole starfish had dissolved in the 46.6-billion-light-year wide steel orb to which he’d been confined for the past three weeks. Making a sound that could heard, he climbed through the gap. Sylvester Denny, Twelve-Anne Stradivari, and Babe Listowel followed him.
“There are four,” thought several of the grapes, “four more than no score and no less than negative twelve of them.”
“What was that?” asked Dawson Filter, who had a limited knowledge of what things were.
“That was a thought,” Babe Listowel replied.
Twelve-Anne had walked over to a sign reading “This grapevine has all knowledge. It also has love, so that’s something.” She thought this an interesting lie; certainly more interesting than the lie that was Sylvester Denny’s life.
Motioning for the others to come, she said “Hello, friends of mine. Upon seeing this sign, an idea has entered my mind: let’s have a contest to see who can craft the most interesting lie.”
“A game and recreational activity?” scoffed Babe Listowel, “What is this, 15th century Europe?”
“I have an uncle with an eyepatch that says ‘no trespassing’ on it.” Sylvester Denny said, participating in the game to show his appreciation for 15th-century European culture.
“And I-” Dawson Filter began, cut off by the second part of his sentence.
Dawson was immediately crowned the victor, his lie being the single most riveting sentence any in the group had ever heard or thought. This is particularly impressive when one bears in mind that Babe Listowel built a thought-powered rivet driver in his college-woodworking class. Speaking of bears in minds, the grapes had begun to think again.
“Bears dare not bury their cares in safes made from soup wafers.”
This fact was not strictly relevant to the Quest Committee’s current activities. Nevertheless, it was undeniable. They had all raised a bear or two in their day; and not once had any of these bears ever dared to bury its cares in safes made from soup wafers. This confirmed that the grapevine did indeed possess all knowledge. Because the committee had just completed its most recent quest (ie; to escape the universe), they saw this as an opportunity to take out two quests in one day by asking the vine for the answer to the ever elusive True Meaning of Feelings quest.
“What is the True Meaning of Feelings?” Dawson Filter asked.
“Sorry, say we the sorry grapes, we hate to say nay and waste your time, but for the word for feeling’s true meaning, there is no rhyme. We stand amazed at the ways you take words and herd them into order unconstrained, and take pains to do the same for your sake, but are unable in the case you ask of us.”
Dawson Filter, Sylvester Denny, Twelve-Anne Stradivari, and friend hung their heads in sadness. They all fell into the fetal position and began to sing dirges in inharmony. They had only one option: create a language in which every word rhymes, and use the new language to ask the grapevine the True Meaning of Feelings. The simplest way to do this was to sing dirges in the fetal position.