Time Travel, and Food, The Story.

Today is Friday, and that is a cause for celebration.  Plus, we, here at Life Explained, have managed to solve part of the complex requirements of time travel.  We bought an old copier from a local thrift store, and attached some fuel cells from a Trident (an Ohio Class, Nuclear Missile Launch Capable) Attack Submarine, those were a little more difficult to find.  It uses an insane amount of toner, but, it does some amazing, unexpected things.

We had the most fantastic lasagna last night, and there were several of us lunging for the last piece.  Bob, the accountant, grabbed a fork from the drawer, not one of those tame forks you eat lasagna with, one of those two pronged forks used for turning steaks on the grill, the sharp points flashed maliciously like fangs in the flourescent light of the break room. 

Bob, the draftsman, slashed wildly through the air with an exacto knife.  We think he uses it to sharpen pencils, why else would a grown man carry an exacto knife in a sheath on his belt?

People were slamming bottles on countertops, tables, chair backs, anything to cause them to break and provide a sufficiently menacing edged weapon.  Unfortunately, all of the bottles were plastic.  So, they filled them with water and took turns microwaving them, threatening to scald anybody who made a move toward the last delicious, beautiful piece of lasagna.

And you eat like pigs.

Finally, Dr. Dawg jumped up on a table, and said "you guys are being ridiculous, absurd children with no sense of reality, this is so stupid.  But, I have worked an idea that could solve all of our problems.  I have almost perfected the worlds first three dimensional copier.  We will just take that last piece of lasagna into my lab, scan it and produce enough to cause us all heart problems."

Awed looks swept the faces of the assembled diners.  This was great news, enough lasagna for the whole company.  "Does it work on beer?"  Someone yelled.

Grabbing the last piece of lasagna, and looking longingly at the melted cheese, and the layers of noodles, and sauce and spicy Italian sausage, with just enough ground beef to make it perfect, we all rushed into Dr. Dawg's lab, and watched him turn on the power to the controller, the computer, and the gamma ray detectors, (he is always so worried about gamma rays, who knows why?).  

Carefully, with love and the greatest hope for success Bob, the engineer, placed the beloved lasagna on the platen and carefully closed the lid.  

Lights flashed and servos whirred, the whole room went dim, and then brightened up again, there were noises from everywhere, and a roll of wire fell to the floor with a bang that sounded like a gunshot.  And, then it was over, and there was no lasagna!  No lasagna in the receiver tray, no lasagna in the copier, nothing, it had disappeared, it was gone.

We all looked at each other, and didn't know what to say, we had just made something disappear, that was pretty cool.  Dr. Dawg was reading the results on a computer screen and scratching his ear.  "That was odd," he said.  

"Hey, look at this,"  Bob, the theoretical physicist said, excitedly, and we all rushed over to his work station.  There was a picture of his Mother, as a child, with her parents, it was in black and white, and in the manner of old photographs it looked somber and dignified, except for the horror on the face of Bob's Grandmother, who was staring, aghast, and terrified at a piece of lasagna, in full color, sitting on her lap.

We all starting congratulating each other, and Dr. Dawg in particular, we had just taken the first step in time travel.  It was great.

"Anybody want to get some pizza?"  A voice echoed around the room.  

"Heck, yes!"