Emerson the Triumphant

Wilfred Emerson was a twentieth century pioneer of futurist technology. His best inventions were despised by critics and the public alike. He was one of the first proponents of green energy, and at the 1951 World's Fair he showcased a unique, non-fuel-based vehicle:

Emerson announced his first major invention in 1933. Following previous disappointments, the public wondered if his major invention might not be the production of a high-ranking officer. Emerson defiantly revealed his new creation: a Christmas tree. Here is a brief excerpt from the press conference:

Emerson is at a podium with a Christmas tree displayed at his side.
Emerson: "I am proud to announce my latest invention."
Journalist: "But, Emerson, this object already existed."
Emerson: "Not this one, I grew it in my garden."
Journalist: "This is nothing new. We all decorated Christmas trees as children, and our parents, the same."
Emerson: "You decorated your parents? Were they ugly?"

It is axiomatic that early technology is oversized and hardly fit for use. Emerson's prototypes were no exception. Take his electric toothbrush:

When Emerson retired, he could be found in city parks playing chess with the homeless. When he lost—which is to say, every game—he would become enraged, declaring the game to be his own invention. His opponents would keep a safe distance as he scaled the concrete bench to perform a victory jig. After this display, the homeless victor would drop a penny in Emerson's cup and make a hasty retreat. Like this, Emerson generated a reasonable pension and lived comfortably into his old age.

The Spy Who Told Me

Longerbottom was an overseas agent with the secret service. He had a habit of completing people's thoughts before they had finished talking. Case in point:

A knock at the door of Longerbottom's hideout.
"What's the password?" said Longerbottom through the closed door.
"Well, I reckon, it's, ah-" replied the stranger.
"Haddock?" suggested Longerbottom.
"Haddock, sir, yes."
"Right you are."
Like this an enemy operative gained entry to Longerbottom's hideout and surveilance equipment. Longerbottom was still none the wiser. It's true, he had not one wiser.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" offered Longerbottom.
"Thank you. I was looking for—"
"The weekly log of enemy activity?"
"Quite," said the enemy operative and smiled, to which Longerbottom added a jovial laugh.
"Sugar?" asked Longerbottom.
"Thank you. And—"
"A list of all agents operating in this territory?"
"Yes, and a spot of milk."
"Right you are."

When Longerbottom's superiors caught wind of this debacle they sent a coded message ordering his immediate dismissal. Longerbottom read aloud from the ticker tape as the message arrived: "Longerbottom, you are to proceed immediately—" naturally, before the message had fully printed, he completed it himself: "—to push the red button under the desk!"

A continent away, the distant sky on the horizon turned a bronze crimson. A commanding officer was alerted to the disaster, and breathed a sigh of relief: "We'll save on the bugger's severance pay."