Tag Archives: Saskatchewan

Dawson Filter as He Relates to Iron


Trapped in Saskatchewan, Dawson Filter and Sylvester Denny saw no option but to build a time machine. The main problem with this was that they didn’t know how. They remembered from spending time in Felipe’s time machine that it had a boxy sort of structure, with some sciency bits in the middle. Dawson Filter used the skills he’d gained studying origami to build a few model boxes on Sherlock Dracula’s porch, but it looked unlikely that they’d get much further than that. To make Dawson Filter feel better about his work, Sylvester Denny took a pen from the curb and wrote “Time Machine” on one of the boxes.

Just as Sylvester finished dotting his i’s, a portal opened by Sherlock’s mailbox. Out ran three visually impaired hoodlums, who kicked Sylvester’s shins, took the box, and ran back into the vortex.

“Seems like the thugs who got us stuck here are unsupportive of us leaving,” Dawson Filter remarked.

“Might as well give up now and never try to leave again,” Sylvester Denny added.

Dawson Filter began to recreate a diagram he thought he remembered from Felipe’s bulletin board, but before his 34th mark on the paper, the portal opened again, and a dentist with severe astigmatism lit the diagram on fire.

“Go to the iron store and get some iron,” Dawson Filter said to Sylvester, having an idea.

Paper was light, and easily disposable. Quickly disposable. If Dawson and Sylvester could force Wayne Rubblefish’s agents of destruction to stay longer, they should be able to run through the vortex themselves, quite likely removing them from Saskatchewan. Iron was reportedly heavy, and consequently difficult to lift. Difficult tasks take greater amounts of time than facile tasks.

When Sylvester Denny returned from the iron store, Dawson Filter took out the fire the dentist had left on his diagram; and began to weld the iron into a cube. Sylvester took out his pen to label the cube a time machine, and once again the vortex swirled at the end of Sherlock’s driveway.

“Ack! Terror because the people have come to take our time machine!” Sylvester Denny winked at Dawson to let him know that he was acting.

As four men struggled with the box, Dawson and Sylvester ran through the portal.

On the other side was a shockingly empty room. It had no furniture or dust. It did have air, but it wasn’t all that visible. It didn’t even have doors. After a few minutes of nothing, the portal closed behind them, revealing that the room was the end of a hallway. Walking down the hallway, they passed a door marked “Dry Storage,” and another marked “Moist Storage.” They stopped at one marked “Prisoners,” hoping to ask for directions. Behind the door was one Felipe, an intern of sorts, strapped to the bottom of a chair.

“Felipe!” Dawson Filter exclaimed, “You look very upside down today.”

“They hid inside m’time machine, Dawson. They took me here and now I am here, Dawson.”

Dawson Filter surveyed the room; and after seeing that Felipe’s time machine was not present, made an oral note of this. Sylvester Denny unstrapped Felipe, who, in his freedom, stood up.

“My time machine is dry;” Felipe said, “Now where would a dry thing be stored in a place like this?”

Sylvester suddenly remembered a door that he used to walk by as he was looking for Felipe.

“Inside of a room that says dry storage on the door!”

The trio ran into the hallway and kicked down the door Sylvester Denny mentioned. Indeed, there was a room behind it. Indeed, there was a time machine in the room. And not only in word but also in deed, the trio entered said time machine.

Dawson Filter as He Relates to Sheep


Strolling through a valley he stumbled across on his way to something he’d now forgotten, Dawson Filter saw a sheep. It was Tuesday, then.

“Hmm,” he said to himself, “both the singular and plural forms of that animal with all the wool are pronounced ‘sheep.'”

Generally, people know this (excluding the 5.9 billion people in the world who don’t speak English. They aren’t really the target audience of this story.); but the significance of this state of affairs now struck Dawson Filter with a new reality. If number was irrelevant in the use of the word sheep, then was not the absence of sheep still sheep?

Dawson Filter took another step. He saw another sheep.

“Was it a sheep?” he wondered. A few minutes ago he surely would have said “No, that’s my shoe,” but now he wasn’t so sure. The absence of land was sky; the absence of wet, dry. Still, sky could be called ‘not land’; and wet, ‘not dry’. It would be reasonable to assert that the absence of sheep, while called ‘sheep’, could be equally ‘not sheep’. There were three kinds of sheep, then: the ones that truly were ones, singular in their sheepness; the ones that flocked in droves; and the ones hiding in every shadow, dispersed in every breath, the ones of which no one ever spoke.

Now that that was cleared up, Dawson Filter could finally focus on figuring out where he was. By this point, it was Thursday, and where he was was in a bagel shop. There was a person next to him, to whom he decided to talk.

“Hello,” he said, “and what are your thoughts on talking?”

The man turned around. He was Hank the Embezzler, a rascal if there ever was one (There was. See source).

“Well, talking’s alright, I suppose,” he said, “but I personally prefer embezzling company property.”

“Oh,” Dawson Filter said, wishing he had hobbies as clearly defined as this man seemed to.

“Now, you’re probably wondering who you are,” said Hank, “that’s understandable. I did embezzle your memories, after all. Your name is Wayne Rubblefish. You enjoy long walks on the beach and hope.”

Hank the Embezzler handed Dawson Filter a document.

Birth certificate

“Why are you telling this to me now?” Dawson Filter asked.

“It’s a social convention you don’t remember to tell the victim of any crime one might commit the nature of the crime and the victim’s basic personal information.”

Hank the Embezzler left the shop via the door. Dawson Filter, wondering what sort of person he was, ordered a bagel and patted himself down to find his wallet and personal information. According to a licence he found in his wallet, he was able to drive.

But lo! What new evil was this? The licence cited his name as “Dawson Q. Filter”! He threw the wallet to the ground, disgusted by its lie. He couldn’t believe he’d trusted it with his money for so many years.

Still unsure exactly what his place in society was, Dawson Filter began to search for clues that might lead him to his past. Hank the Embezzler said that he enjoyed embezzling company property. There was only one company in the world that considered its employees’ memories company property: Walter’z Breakfast and Midday Snack House.

Seeming to know quite a lot about rocket science, Dawson Filter built a spaceship and left for Saskatchewan, where the snack house stood. After orbiting around Mars several times, he found the joint, which he entered. It was midday. Because of the time difference between the restaurants, it felt like 8:05 in the evening. More importantly it felt like a time for answers.