The flag was American, and right now was being watched. The flag was waving ironically in the summer anti-breeze. Just one of those days, the Watcher supposed. The Watcher watched things, every day, to pick up subtle contradictions.
"So how do you watch television, The Watcher?" a nearby child asked, unwary of the Watcher's processes.
"I watch it to make sure it doesn't jump up and eat me," the Watcher intoned, verbatim from his manual. There were answer manuals that Watchers could read, before and after they technically were certified Watchers.
"But what happens if you eat a television, The Watcher? Must you live in fear of your stomach?"
Uh-oh, thought The Watcher. There was nothing in the manual about this. I will have to improvise.
"Uh...no. If I eat a television it ceases to be a television, by virtue of its newfound unwatched nature. And no one has to watch unwatched things. I don't have to watch it. In fact, I don't have to watch anything that is unwatchable. Why, that is absurd. Move along, child."
"So how do you watch television, The Watcher?" a nearby child asked, unwary of the Watcher's processes.
"I watch it to make sure it doesn't jump up and eat me," the Watcher intoned, verbatim from his manual. There were answer manuals that Watchers could read, before and after they technically were certified Watchers.
"But what happens if you eat a television, The Watcher? Must you live in fear of your stomach?"
Uh-oh, thought The Watcher. There was nothing in the manual about this. I will have to improvise.
"Uh...no. If I eat a television it ceases to be a television, by virtue of its newfound unwatched nature. And no one has to watch unwatched things. I don't have to watch it. In fact, I don't have to watch anything that is unwatchable. Why, that is absurd. Move along, child."
