Written by Ironi Numair
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It was the best of times; it was the worst of times…
“Wrong story, Aden.”
Shut up Numair! Who’s the narrator in this spoof? Anyway, to cut to the chase, old Jonathan Scrooge was making his cold way to his counting house, where he could count his money, as he was a greedy miser.
“Why am I the bad guy here?”
Because I said so! So, greedy Mr. Scrooge approached his counting house and paused to reflect…
“Ah, good old Roger Marley, dead seven years today. He was a good’n, trying to kill me and all…”
Hey!
“Sorry. ‘ahem’ So that’s why I cheaped out on his burial, heehee…”
Jonathan pushed open the heavy door to find his much taller, younger, better looking, cooler, smarter…
“Oh, come on!” Jonathan growled at the innocent narrator.
…employee, Numair Grachet (sp?), hovering around the stove, a black piece of coal in his hand.
“Grachet! What are you doing?!” Scrooge demanded angrily.
“I’m freezing my little mage butt off sir…”
Stay in character Numair!
“Ahem, I feel the circulation in my fingers beginning to decrease sir, I was just going to use one to warm myself up a little?”
“You used a piece last week! Now get back to work!” Nasty Mr. Scrooge retorted, snatching the piece of coal from poor cold Numair’s hand.
“Yes sir,” Grachet stammered, returning to his desk.
“Merry Christmas!” cried Gareth the younger as he burst through the door, holding a fine wreath in his hand.
“And a Merry Christmas to you, Master Gareth!” Grachet greeted Scrooge’s nephew, swiveling in his cool spinny chair that I, the all mighty narrator, issued for him.
“But he’s not my nephew…” Jonathan began, before changing his mind to go on appropriately, “Bah, humbug…”
“Merry Christmas Uncle Scrooge!” Gareth announced to his ever grumpy, but beloved ‘uncle’.
“What’s ‘merry’ about it? The fact that I’ve suddenly become the villain here? Or is it the fact that we Tortallans don’t even celebrate Christmas?! What do you want?”
“I came to give you this gift,” he announced, handing Jon the wreath, “and invite you to Christmas dinner!”
But, alas, poor Gareth would have his heart broken yet again as cruel Jonathan Scrooge rudely turned down his offer and…
“Can I get any good credit here?”
Quiet Jon! And removed Gareth from his presence. Shoo!
“Very well…” Gareth grumbled to his ‘uncle’, though he hung the wreath on the door, as he left.
“Silly boy…” Jon grumbled as he returned to his desk. Numair was busy lighting his paperwork on fire for heat when the little bell above the door rang, announcing customers. Grachet began to rise when Scrooge claimed he would take it. There stood a tall girl in a tunic and breeches, with ear-length mouse-brown hair. Her companion was a short boy with sloppy raven coloured hair. They were none other than Keladry and Katanon.
“Kat! What are you doing here?” Grachet demanded the boy.
“I work my way in to all of these little stupid shorts. It’s what I do.” Kat replied.
“How can I help you?” Scrooge asked the two strangers.
“We’re collecting contributions for the underprivalidged.” Kel informed.
“For the poor?” Kat asked, holding out a small box.
“I don’t think I…”
Jon, just be cruel and a big jerk this once, kay?
“I mean, no way! Get lost you dead beats!”
That’s not what I meant but that works! So, insulted, the two good-doers left Jon’s presence with nary a kind word. It was at this point that Grachet decided to ask a favor of his employer.
“Must I? He appears rather upset at the moment…”
Yes!
“Sir, it is Christmas tomorrow and I was wondering if I could have half a day off?”
Jon scowled, but considered showing Grachet a little charity.
“Very well, but I’ll dock you half a day’s pay. So, since I pay you two shillings a day…”
“Two shillings and a hay penny, sir. You gave me a raise when I started doing your laundry.”
“Right. Speaking of which, here’s some shirts for you to do.” Jonathan said, tossing the large bag at Grachet’s feet. “You may go now.”
“Why you little…”
Numair!
“I mean, yes sir, and a Merry Christmas to you…” Then he picked up the bag and stomped out the door, muttering an assortment of colourful, non-Numair-ish adjectives.
“Bah, humbug…” Scrooge murmured to himself.
Later, Scrooge locked up his counting house and trudged through the snow to his large, expensive home. Outside the door, he thought he heard someone calling his name.
“Scrooooge…”
Frightened, Jon flung open the door and hurried inside, to which he calmed himself; it was just the wind, afterall. Walking up the stairs to his bedroom, he felt an eerie presence trickling up his back. He was sweating in nervousness, and his name continued to be called. Finally, his fear breaking loose, he bolted to his room and locked the door. But, as we all know, doors cannot stop ghosts.
“You’re not helping!”
Well pardon me. Anyway, through the door, foamed the ethereal form of Roger Marley!
“Jonathan Scroooooge…!”
“You can quit with the ‘tortured soul’ bit. But, Roger, is it you?”
“Yes. But do you remember when I was alive, both times, how I tried to kill you?”
“How could I forget.” Jonathan replied sarcastically.
“Well, as punishment, I’m forced to carry these awful chains, for all eternity! And the same thing will happen to you!”
“Why? What’d I do?”
“You’re a greedy miser, that’s why!”
“No! It can’t be, it must’nt! Help me Roger!”
“Like hell…”
Roger, do you want to die again?
“Uh, sure…tonight, you will be visited by three spirits. Do what they say, or your chains will be even heavier than mine!”
“That’s not fair.”
“Who ever said afterlife was fair? Farewell Jonathan, fareweeeeellll…”
“Spirits? Bah, humbug!”
Oh you wish Jonny boy, you wish…heehee…
Spirits...Humbug!" Jonathan grumbled, rolling over to sleep.
In his sleepy wonderland, Scrooge didn't see the window open silently, or the shadow that crept across the room with nary a sound, until...
"Hey!"
"Gaaah! Who are you!"
"Hello, I'm the Ghost of Christmas past!"
"What...George! What are you doing in my room!"
"Bein' yer Ghost of Christmas past, of course!"
T'was true! Our beloved ex-thief was now about to guide our nasty miser through his own past, to glimpse back at when he had been a delightful, happy lad.
"I don't need to take a look at any of my past!" Scrooge snapped at the spirit.
"Yes you do. Come along, out the window!"
"I can't go out the window! I'll fall!"
"Then go carefully." George replied, disappearing out the window.
"There's no way I'm going to...aah!" But George, with those new Ghost of Christmas Past powers, pulled Jon out and onto the street. Half dragging the miser, he finally led him to a shop, warm lights illuminating the snow outside.
"I think I know this place..." Scrooge said, peeking in the window, "Yes! It's 'ol Duke Gareth's! I couldn't have worked for a kinder man..." A silly grin spread over his face as he spotted all the old familiar faces, including his younger self, hiding in the corner. He then saw her...
I bet all of you know her...
"Jon? What are you doing sitting here by yourself?" Alanna asked the young Scrooge, "If you won't get up and dance, I'll pull you out with me."
And so, the redhead pulled the baffled Scrooge onto the dance floor, and, by the end of the night, our little Jon received his first kiss.
"Aww."
George, you show, not talk!
"Sorry."
That's okay. Anyway, so then, using his mystical George the Spirit powers, he transported Scrooge an himself a few years further in time...
"Why, we're in my counting house..."
"That we are Scrooge. In time, you began to love something else."
"I can't live this way," Alanna declared, "locked up pretty, like some queen in your castle! I'm going to be a knight!"
"That's very funny Alanna," responded young Scrooge, "in fact, it's absurd! Even if you could fake your way in, why, you're still just a girl..."
"Alright, I was a little off..."
That you were George.
"Yes, I remember. I was so foolish..."
Yeah, ya jerk.
"Hey!"
Save us George...
"So, she dumped you, and ran off with me. And now, you go back home..."
"Hay, wait!" Jon cried, but found himself back in his bed. "What an awful dream. Bah, nonsense..." And with that he went back to sleep.
But not for long, heehee.
Soon, he was awoken by a baby dragon staring into his face.
"Don't tell me...Daine?"
"How'd you know?"
"Call it a gut feeling. Why are you here?"
"I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present!"
"Well, I'm looking around aaaand...wow, it's a nice night. Good present, and good night!"
"Hold it, you have to see the present of elsewhere!"
And with that, Daine turned into a griffin and...
"Wait! She can't turn into an immortal!"
I, the all mighty narrator, am now saying she can! So she turned into a griffin and carried Scrooge across town to an old, run down house.
"Why'd you bring me here?" Scrooge asked, annoyed.
"This is the home of your overworked, underpaid employee, Numair Grachet."
"I do not under pay him."
Well Jon, in this story you do, live with it! So, Scrooge, with the encouragement of the Ghost of Christmas Present, peeked through the window.
"Wait children, until we're all ready." Varice told the anxious children, poking at the little bits of food on the table. Then entered our favorite black robe.
"Wait a minute...Why am I married to Varice?"
Because Daine's outside the window with Jon at the moment.
"Oh...What!?"
Calm down, ya saccharine weirdo...
"Oh, where's Tiny Thom?" Varice asked nobody in particular.
"Here I am Mother, I'm coming." the little redhead said, badly acting crippled on his little crutch.
"But he's not my son..."
Oh Numair, you're such a kidder...He is now!
"Yes sir."
So Numair happily placed his son in his chair and handed him his still mostly empty plate.
"Oh wow, look at all the wonderful things to eat! We should thank Mr. Scrooge!"
"What a cute little lad," Jon said, "what's wrong with him?"
"I dunno...All I know is that he'll bite the big one if nothing changes." Daine replied, badly out of character.
"That's horrible! Can nothing be done?! Daine? Where'd you go?"
But, alas, the Wildmage had vanished in the wind.
"I can see that! But she can't! She has to tell me about Thom!"
Too bad. Instead, Jon found himself standing in a graveyard in the misty evening. A shrouded figure suddenly stood before him, amber eyes glittering with malice beneath the hood.
"Who...who are you?"
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Future."
"I know that! But who are you?"
"Ozorne, Emperor of Carthak! Can't you tell!?"
"Oh, jeez...Can't you villains just stay dead..."
"What was that?"
"Nothing... But please, tell me what will happen to Tiny Thom?"
The Emperor Mage pointed a ring-covered finger to a knoll, where Grachet's family sat silently weeping. They turned to leave, and Numair left a little crutch by the tombstone.
"Aww, poor Arram..."
Plot your revenge later Ozorne and pay attention to the story!
"I didn't mean for this to happen! Please Spirit, tell me this can be changed!"
"Perhaps, but I have more to show you."
"Oh, yay..."
"What?!"
"I didn't say anything..."
The scene shifted to what Scrooge immediately recognized as his own bedroom.
"What's going on here? Why am I back here?"
"Look behind you, stupid."
Jon turned to see Onua, Neal, and Kalasin digging through his stuff, preparing to sell it all away without worry or care.
"What are they doing!? They can't do this!"
"Who's gonna stop 'em? They can't see nor hear you."
"Where is the other me?!"
"Heehee..."
Alas! Scrooge turned around to see his own body lying cold on the bed.
"That cannot be! And they don't even weep at the sight of me! Who did this!"
"How should I know?"
"Aden!"
Well, erm...originally, Numair was a little more than pissed off about the death of his son so he uh...haha...killed you in a flaming ball of black fire...
"No, no no! This cannot happen! I'll change! I promise I'll change!"
Poof!
"Poof?"
Yes, poof! So shut up and go home Ozorne! Anyway, Scrooge suddenly awoke in his own bed, daylight of the new morn streaming through his window.
"It's Christmas morning! Oh, there's so much to do!"
Scrooge jumped out of bed, dressed quickly and ran out ther door. He hurried down the street, pausing only to dump money on Kel and Kat, and to make dinner arrangements with his passing 'nephew'.
"Flying through this, aren't we?"
Shut up! After buying a huge turkey and some toys, Scrooge ran all the way to Grachet's house, then banged on the door.
"Mr. Scrooge sir...ah, Merry Christmas?" Numair stammered.
"Humbug!" Jon snapped, pushing by the taller man. He hoped he was playing his part well.
"Christmas! Another one of your excuses to be lazy...Here, I have more laundry for you!" He said, dumping the bag on the floor.
"But sir, it's Christmas day! I'd like to be with my family!"
"Ha! Good ploy! But you now leave me no choice but to...Give you a raise, and make you my new partner!"
"Partner?"
"Merry Christmas Numair." Jon exclaimed, picking up Tiny Thom happily.
"And Goddess bless us, everyone!" Tiny Thom declared.
"So mote it be!"
Merry Christmas,
Happy Winter Solstice,
Kwanza
Chanukah
Deis Wassiren
Whatever…
The End