Overtime

"Nice of you to decide to come home this morning," Marla glared as Harry attempted to slip into the house through the patio doors. "You could have called last night and told me you weren't coming home for dinner."

"I'm sorry, Honey," Harry attempted to kiss his wife, but she evaded him by sitting down at the dining room table. "The new boss decided every one was going to work overtime and, because of the security risk, sh... he confiscated all our cell phones and turned off all the office phones."

"Shahe," Marla frowned. "I thought you said his name was Johnson."

"Johnson's the last name, Sweet Heart," he picked up the hot champagne, wiped the dripping water off the bottle, and looked at the date on the label. "Were we supposed to celebrate something special last night?" He placed the bottle on the table next to a crystal champagne glass.

"You Dolt," she burst into tears. "Yesterday was our wedding anniversary!"

His brow knotted, "Are you sure, Cin... uh, Marla?" He rubbed his day old beard with his left hand, "I thought we were married on Valentines Day. This isn't February 14, is it?"

She picked up a butter knife laying beside the dinner plate and drove it into the breast of the baked chicken setting on the serving platter in the center of the table. "No, it isn't," she stood up, a dinner fork in her left hand. "Harry, February 14 was the anniversary of your first marriage." She raised the fork, stared at it and threw it across the room, hitting a still life hanging on the wall. "You divorced Cindy ten years ago."

"I... I'm sorry, Honey," he put his hand in the pocket of slacks and removed the car keys. "Happy second anniversary," he handed her the keys to their station wagon.

"Harry," she stared at the keys and then threw them into the gravy boat, "we've been married five long and, until now, I thought happy years."

"Marsha, uh, I mean, Marla," he put his left arm around her shoulders and his right hand under her chin. "I'll go shower, shave, and then we can go out to eat." He tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away.

"You're having an affair, aren't you?"

"No," he shook his head. "I don't think so."

She gaped at him, "Would you like a divorce?"

"No, Marla," he laughed. "I enjoy being married to you." He grabbed her, pulled her closer, and kissed on the lips.

When their lips met, she felt as if a robot had kissed her. Before she could say anything, the doorbell rang. Marla pushed Harry away and went to answer the door. Without looking through the peephole she opened to door and standing on the front porch, holding a single red rose, was Harry.

"Happy belated anniversary," he opened the screen door and held out the rose.

She turned around and ran back into the dining room. The man who had kissed her stood by the dining table, trying to fish the car keys out of the gravy boat.

"What's wrong," Harry followed her into the dining room. "Oh! It escaped!"

She stood there for five minutes looking from one Harry to the next. Then, she put her arms around the one holding the rose and kissed him.

"You must be the real Harry," she said, taking the rose and placing it on the table. "What is that?" She pointed to her husband's doppelganger.

"That's my clone," he took his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed his boss.

"Ms. Johnson, we have a problem."

"My clone is standing in my dining room, with his hands in my wife's antique gravy boat."

"I wish I was joking," he went to his clone and placed his right hand on the creature's shoulder causing it to sit down at the table. "You need to send security guards and someone to interview my wife."

"Thank you," he closed his phone, put it back in his pocket, and took out a small red velvet ring box. "The rest of your anniversary present," he handed the box to Marla. She opened the box to find a diamond engagement ring and wedding band.

"I was going to ask you to renew our vows."

She closed the box and picked up the rose, "Fine, Harry! Thank you!"