Tag Archives: questions

Dawson Filter as He Relates to Stomach Punching


“Who here can read words?” called out Barry Dextrous, the host of a Nebraska game show. The crowd let out a united cheer. “But seriously, folks,” Barry continued, “who here can read?”

Several members of the audience raised their hands, of whom Barry called up Dawson Filter.

“Welcome to the show, my good man.” the host said, flashing his new teeth, “The game show, that is! You’ll be our question reader this week. Don’t believe me? Just look at the future.”

Dawson took the stack of cue cards from the hand of Barry, allowing the hand of Barry to more freely flail about as he introduced the contestants.

“Oh, look, it seems we’ve got some contestants this week. And what’s this? It seems as though they have names! Whee! I’d like to welcome Luther O’Finn, Babe ‘the Autumn Tradesman’ Listowel, and J. Gordon Whitehead, who has a chair.”

Dawson began to read.

“Truth or dare?”

Babe pressed down on his buzzer, causing it to buzz like never before.

“Truth.”

Barry Dextrous pressed on a buzzer of his own, to indicate that Babe’s response was not only correct, but also audible. Barry had two buzzers, one of fire, one of ice; the former to indicate a correct response, the latter to indicate anything less.

“Neat job, Autumn Tradesman.” Dawson said, “I am currently pleased that you survived the moon thing. It makes me feel better about forgetting to mourn your death. And from what I’ve tasted of desire, I’m glad you got the button you did. But if I had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice. I’m sorry; that sentence didn’t make as much sense as you probably would have liked. I suppose I’m just feeling Frosty today. I shall now ask another question. Prepare your ears. You are trapped on the moon with a lawyer, a drill sergeant, and a seamstress. On the second day, the seamstress disappears, leaving only a single lock of her hair in her sleeping bag. On the third day, the drill sergeant disappears, leaving only a single lock of her hair beside where you had laid the first lock. On the fourth day, the same happens to the lawyer. On the fifth day, you find the three locks of hair in your satchel; and a shuttle arrives to take you home. What is the right thing to do?”

“I would like to say” said Luther, preparing to say “that I am super outraged about your use of the word ‘right’. Man, my right eye doesn’t even do anything. Not even my left eye does things. In fact, in Lanc-”

Luther’s word continued, as did his sentence, and his life. All of these these things will remain undocumented, for reasons beyond, if not my control, at least yours.

Dawson arose from the chair upon which he was sitting, the chair I never told you existed, to ask yet another question.

“What is the True Meaning of Feelings?”

As the question mark echoed through through the room, J. Gordon Whitehead leapt up from his own chair, the one you know all too well; and ran to Dawson Filter. Why he ran as quickly as he did remains unclear to this day; life is about the journey, after all. When he reached Dawson, he pulled out a fist he’d been saving for such an occasion as this, and walloped Dawson’s stomach with the very same fist as the one I recently said he pulled out. He reached into his pocket to pull out a pair of sunglasses, which he placed over his eyes to shield them from what he was about to say.

“The Sun.”

Which is when I think the day sort of jumped the shark.

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Dawson Filter as He Relates to Game Shows


Dawson Filter stooped down to pick up a cardboard box. He missed. He stooped over once again, this time with his eyes open, and placed the box on top of another box. The other box was similar to the box: both were made of cardboard, they were the same shade of beige (that being #FFF8E7), both had recently been picked up by Dawson Filter, and both were boxes.

Dawson Filter turned around, and in the process ended up seeing Sylvester Denny. Upon hearing Sylvester ask ‘What ever are you doing?’, Dawson decided that it would be appropriate to answer the question with an answer.

“I am currently building an office for Hank.” said Dawson, whose surname was Filter. “It may be made of cardboard; but it is a box office; so it’s something of a pun, and as a result I am happy.”

“Oh.” Sylvester said, having not been able to hear Dawson over the sound of the words coming out of Dawson’s mouth, “I was thinking about our quest to find and retrieve the True Meaning of Feelings, and how we’ve so far made absolutely no progress; and then my mind started to hurt from all o’ the thinking, so I turned on the television to numb the pain. On said television was a local game show. On said game show, contestants were asked questions, and they had the tendency to get them right. Suddenly, I had an idea, and the idea had me, and we were finally together: I could become a question-writer for the show, and then the contestants would have to tell us the answer to our quest if they wanted free coupons to the Oistermill Spa Chambers.”

Dawson raised arms to indicate that he wanted to raise his voice, but had been having some throat trouble lately.

“No, I dislike this idea; and so reject both it and its creator.” he said, afterward clearing his throat, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I’ve been having some throat trouble lately. It is the only idea we have. Let us begin.”

Dawson and Sylvester agreed that Sylvester’s resume would be more impressive it was written entirely in questions, and began writing. Before long, it became impossible to write any more; because writing is impossible if you don’t try, and they had no reason to try, what with the resume being complete, and Sylvester waiting at the game show office to drop it off.

“You know when you feel like you’re going to die, and then you remember that you’re going to die?” the receptionist asked, whittling her desk into a whale.

“No, sorry, I’m here to drop off a resume. My resume. I’d like to become a question writer for the show.”

“I approve. I usually have to write up the questions myself; which makes me essential, and then I can’t get promoted. It’ll probably be a while before someone sees your resume. Everyone else who works here only comes when we’re filming, which is Tuesdays. They also can’t read, so if you want your chances of scoring a job to skyrocket to Not Zero, you could prove yourself by helping me generate next week’s questions. We don’t have to write the answers or any such nonsense, the host uses magic to know them.”

“Sure,” Sylvester replied, “I can start now, as you probably could have guessed from how I’m here now, and don’t look like the sort of person who would ever have prior commitments.”

“Neat. How about, ‘You are trapped on the moon with a lawyer, a drill sergeant, and a seamstress. On the second day, the seamstress disappears, leaving only a single lock of her hair in her sleeping bag. On the third day, the drill sergeant disappears, leaving only a single lock of her hair beside where you had laid the first lock. On the fourth day, the same happens to the lawyer. On the fifth day, you find the three locks of hair in your satchel; and a shuttle arrives to take you home. What is the right thing to do’?”

“Good question. Do you approve of ‘What is the True Meaning of Feelings’?”

“That’s good.”

After some time, Sylvester and the receptionist introduced themselves; and Sylvester went back to the office to rest. He would come back the next day. He enjoyed the mysterious atmosphere of the game show headquarters; so many questions, so few answers. If he needed to have to have one job to keep his first job, he wanted this to be it.