Best Thing Ever!

1928

“You are sure this contraption will work?  It looks pretty complicated to me!”  The speaker bent over the weird-looking machine, one hand stroking his bushy mustache.

“Purty sure, sir, yup,” the machine operator replied.  “Been workin’ with ‘er fer a few weeks now, haven’t had nary a complaint.  All told, she’s had only a few minor hiccups, an’ those mos’ly on account of me rushin’ the process.  Even the missus swears by it now!  Says it saves her time ever’ mornin’, an’ no more cuts to her fingers!”

That last was offered as high praise, for the man’s wife was not known for her patience with his new-fangled inventions.

“And how much do you reckon it will it cost to manufacture these things?” the mustachioed gentleman asked.

“Hard to say, sir, on account of I been usin’ mos’ly parts an’ junk I had layin’ ‘round the shop.  But if I can scrape together a stake, I’ll be able to standardize the process, set up one of them assembly lines like Mr. Ford has got goin’ for his cars.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Ford,” the gentleman said.  “And you are expecting—or perhaps I should say hoping—that this contraption will turn out to be as successful as those smelly, infernal automobiles?” 

He practically spit out that last word.  But his ire was not directed at Henry Ford; rather he was annoyed with himself for having passed on the start-up investment opportunity the tycoon had offered him several years ago.

“Yessir, I surely do,” the machinist said, “an’ maybe more successful.  I mean, not ever’body needs an automobile, an’ not all of them what does is rich enough to afford one.  But ever’body’s gotta eat, right?  An’ if I can get me some financial backin’ for this here beauty, we’ll churn ‘em out an’ sell ‘em cheap enough for anybody to afford.”

“And that’s where you hope I’ll be of some help,” the gentleman said.

“Yessir,” the machinist said.  “I be needin’ money from you an’ as many of your gen’lmen friends as what might wanta get in on the ground-floor.”

Turning to look at a number of paper bags on a shelf behind him, each bulging with its contents, the gentleman said, “And all of these were produced on this contraption?”

“Dadgum right they was!” the machinist declared.  “Baked an’ done this mornin’ afore you arrived.  I only stopped so’s I could clean the machine so’s you could see ‘er good an’ proper.”

“Well I do believe I have some friends who might like in on this opportunity,” the gentleman said.  “But of course I could not in all conscience or with any semblance of business acumen recommend it to them as an investment opportunity without first seeing the contraption at work.”

For the next half-hour, the machinist, with fingers crossed, demonstrated how well his invention worked, and how efficient it was.  The prospective investor was duly impressed.

“I do think you have stumbled on to something here,” he said, polishing his glasses with a small cloth plucked from his waistcoat pocket.  “How was it you described it to me on Mr. Bell’s contraption yesterday?”

The machinist puffed out his chest.  “I said bakeries are gonna gobble these things up faster’n hens snatch seeds offa the ground.  Purty quick, none of ‘em’s gonna be able to sell bread that ain’t already been sliced.  This here machine is gonna be the best thing since lucifer matchsticks!”

2021

“Darling, I absolutely love this new toaster-oven!” the woman cooed.  “I’ve never had such delicious toast, and the machine even butters it for you, and puts on your favourite jam.  What will they think of next? Wherever did you find it?”

“It’s a prototype for a new model from a company that wants me to invest,” her husband answered, pleased that his gift was appreciated.  “The guy behind it thinks it’s going to be the next must-have appliance.  Apparently, his great-grandfather was the inventor of the first automatic bread-slicer, so naturally he says this toaster is going to be the best thing since sliced bread!”

“He may be right,” his wife said, delicately wiping a dab of strawberry jelly from the corner of her mouth.  “But it’ll have to be good to beat sliced bread!”

_{© J. Bradley Burt 2021}