Expiration Date by Jeff Thomason (best short novels of all time .txt) 📕

glanced over it for a moment.
“Everything looks so delicious. What’s tempting your taste buds?”

“Oh, I was thinking spaghetti. You can’t go wrong with spaghetti. But I didn’t see it on the menu.”

She suppressed a grimace. “The special looks good: fillet mignon.”

“I don’t know what that is.” He paused. “But it sounds good.”

The waiter came over. “What can I get you both to drink?”

“Just water,” Bob answered for both of them. “And we’re ready to order. We’d like two specials, please.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” He took their menus and walked away.
Cindy took a long drink. Smile, she told herself. Be pleasant and charming. Remember what you’re after.

The next hour felt like seven as she laughed at lame joke after lame joke and endured inane story after inane story.

“And so I recited the Gettysburg Address, because it was all I could remember.”

“Ha, ha. That is so funny.” She took another long drink of tap water. “The Gettysburg Address is really hard to memorize. You are very smart. Finer Foods is lucky to have such a genius working for them.”

“Oh it wasn’t that hard.”

“It was. You’ve got an incredibly sharp mind. Why, I’m sure you get lots of bonuses and raises at work.”

“No, not really.”

Cindy gripped her napkin and took a deep breath. “Well, you should. I’m sure dozens of companies are constantly trying to snap you up.”

“I doubt it. In fact, I doubt I could find another job if I ever lost this one. I don’t really have any skills. Heck, getting this one was shear dumb luck.”

“But you’re so knowledgeable and insightful. You see things others don’t. Like how you predicted M-ROM would go under when everyone else was sure they would soar.” She ran her fingers along the top of his ear and played with a tuff of hair.

“Oh, that. It wasn’t a prediction. I just happened to glance at a paper when I was—” He sat up and slapped his mouth. His eyes bulged.

“Saw what? Where? When?” She leaned in closer and ran her finger down the front of his shirt.

He stood up. “I sorry. I wasn’t suppose to say anything. Forget what you just heard.” He spun around and tripped over his chair. He picked it up, slid it under the table, and then brushed his pants.

“Sir,” the waiter rushed over, “are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I have to go.” He took a step forward, but stopped. He felt a hand on the back of his pants -- her hand. He felt blood pumping in his ears.

“Don’t go yet. This date isn’t over yet.”

* * * * *

She took him to her apartment and put on soft music.
“Oh, Bob, I’ve never been with a man like you before. You are so, so, ohhhhh. Words just can’t describe you.” She pushed him down on the sofa, straddled him, and began to unbutton his shirt. “I can only imagine how amazing you are at work—all that talent and skill.” She ripped the half buttoned shirt open. She made a trail of kisses down his chest.

“It actually—wow—doesn’t take all that much skill. Oooooh. I just set out a sample from each batch of food then, wooooh, travel to several points in the future to see when they expire. The real genius is the guy that invented the machine. Oooooo, that’s nice.”

She sat up and stared into his eyes. “You’re not joking, are you? You’re being deadly serious. You have a time machine.”

Bob turned white. “Please don’t tell anyone. In fact, forget what I just said. I could get into really big trouble. When they fire someone, they use real fire.”

She stood up and paced in front of the couch. “So what else do you do with it?”

“The time machine? Nothing else. Just expiration dates.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. Our legal department says there’s too much liability to use it for anything else.”

She picked up his coat and shoes and dropped them on his chest.

He looked up. “But we’re not done yet.”

“Oh, believe me, we are.” She pointed to the door.

“Was it something I said?”

She stood there and continued to point.

“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? I mean, this is our little secret, right?”

Silence.

He shuffled past her -- head drooping -- into the hallway.

“I’ll call—” SLAM!

She shook her head. “Idiot.” She pulled out her cell phone and hit 1 on speed dial.

* * * * *

Monday morning Bob walked quickly into work. He jerked his head back and forth as he moved. He talked to no one nor made eye contact. He walked to his cubicle and sat down. He was afraid to turn on his computer.

“Hey, Bob.” He jumped three inches into the air. It was Jim on his way to make a copy. Or was he?

The main doors flew open. A dozen men in their black suits and dark glasses streamed in. They formed a semicircle, looked around, and then formed a corridor around their Commander-in-Chief. One of the men in black pointed at Bob. The president nodded.

“Bob,” he shouted across the room, “where is it?”

All eyes turned to Bob.

Bob stood up shaking. “Where’s what?”

“You know what, Bob. Don’t waste my time. I’m a busy man.”
The foreman marched up to the president. “You can’t come waltzing in here and harass one of my employees. I don’t care who you are.” He stood six inches away and stared him in the eyes. “I’m going to have to ask you and your goon squad to leave. Now.”

“Not without the time machine.”

Whispers buzzed back and forth. Time machine? What time machine. There’s no such thing. That’s just a plot device in science fiction movies. Isn’t it?

The foreman cleared his throat. “Assuming that there is such a thing as a time machine—and I’m not admitting that there is -- and assuming that we have one -- and I’m not confirming that we do -- what do you want it for?”

The president’s smile made him look like a used car salesman. “The same thing you do.”

“To figure out the expiration date on food?”

“Not food; my time as president. Elections are next week, and no one wants to be caught off guard.”

About the Author

Jeff is the creator of the Wandering Koala tales and the Cully Koala comic strip. Jeff's dream has always been to be a rock star. Unfortunately, he can't sing, he can't dance, and he doesn't look good in tight leather pants. So he decided to pursue his second dream and become a writer and artist.

When he isn’t working on his own creations, he also provides graphic design, web development, and illustrations for companies all over the country including Community Care; Southwest Specialty Foods, Inc.; World Prayer Room; Le Ritz Hotel & Suites; Big H Products, Inc; Galaxy Southwest; Mega Corporation; Members' Auto Center; The Arizona Group; Jefferson School District 251; Double Your Decompression; the American Back Pain Association; the American Academy of Pediatrics; Playground Hound, LLC; the Idaho Perinatal Project; Gatsby’s Light Publications; and many others.

You can see more of his work at www.SkyFitsJeff.com.

Other Works

The Scientific Method (a Wandering Koala tale)
Power Trip (a Wandering Koala tale)
The Ohso Project: The Recruit
The Hook (a Wandering Koala tale)
Sign of the 5th Dimension (a Wandering Koala tale)
Wandering Koala challenges The Scientific Method
Wandering Koala rides The Phantom Coach
Euphony in E

Expiration Date

by Jeff Thomason


All names, characters, and places are fictional. Any resemblance to real people—either living or dead—or places is purely coincidental. All prominent characters and places are trademarks of Jeff Thomason. All rights reserved.

©Copyright 2010 Jeff Thomason
www.SkyFitsJeff.com

Imprint

Publication Date: 07-23-2011

All Rights Reserved