[ WP ] The date is July 13 , 1836 . You 're the clerk at the front desk of the U.S. Patent Office on opening day . Things are going just fine until a number of strangely-dressed people get into an argument about their placement in line . Coincidentally , they 're all trying to patent methods of time travel .

I'd been getting things ready for a couple of hours. The papers were all neatly stacked, the pens filled with ink and the blotting paper spotless. 
 
 Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be and everything was in it's correct place, just what the rulebook said. 
 
 No-one could have cause for complaint that I was sloppy in my work. Not like Pieterson or Sanders they were always making mistakes and hoping no-one would notice. A blot here a correction there. It all added up. 
 
 The grandfather clock advised that it was nine and the first dozen claimants entered the large oak panelled room. I recognised Bob Gettery the owner of a hotel that I had visited once or twice and wondered what idea had brought him here. A couple of other faces were vaguely familiar but I could not name them. 
 
 There were three who particularly drew my eye though. Each was more out of place than the last. The first was freakishly tall, a pale man with a suit cut too precisely so that the seams between the arm and shoulder appeared almost drawn rather than stitched. 
 
 Next to him stood a fat man in what seemed to be a kilt such as a scotsman might wear if the scotsman had no sense of propriety. For it rode up high and revealed more about the fat man than I wished to know as he jostled with the tall man for position in front of my desk. 
 
 The third man was the one who I found to be most incongruous. He wore nothing but a pair of bathing shorts and a smile that said he was under the influence of some sort of drug or alcohol. No doubt here on vacation and wandering in lost or for some bet. 
 
 `` Gentlemen.'' I said. `` Welcome to the patent office. You were given a token as you entered with a number on it. I will see you in order from lowest number to highest.'' 
 
 They were indeed all clutching small ceramic tiles and looked down to confirm the numbers they had been given. 
 
 `` Who has number one?'' 
 
 They looked to each other. The tall man anxiously glancing at the man in the kilt. 
 
 `` I've got number two'' It was Bob Gettery. I really did wonder what he'd come up with. 
 
 `` Thanks Bob. I'll see you in a minute.'' 
 
 I slid open the drawer of my desk and plucked out the small white tile marked with the number one that lay inside. I held it up for them all to see. 
 
 `` I've just got a form to fill out first. It wo n't take much time.''
