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Old 12-21-2007, 01:34 AM
Sampiro Sampiro is offline
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If A Christmas Carol had been written by someone else

The title an homage to what I think is the record holder LOTR thread, though I doubt (and I hope) this will have 1% of that one's hits and posts, but--- you all know the story. How would other writers have told it?

A CHRISTMAS CAROL, or, Nails Done While You Wait!
by Kurt Vonnegut

Ebenezer Scrooge has become unstuck in time through the aid of three ghosts. Not that the ghosts are exactly ghosts.

Scrooge was partners with Jacob Marley in an investment firm.

When I first began earning ‘go to hell money’ investment firms wanted to take me to dinner all the time. I went because it was a nice way to get a nice meal in a nice restaurant on somebody else’s dime. I felt like a high class call girl who didn’t put out. I never paid for a high class call girl. Consequently I never had sex with one either.

Scrooge & Marley were two of the most successful men in their business. They did not, as LBJ would say, share the wealth. LBJ shared wealth with brown people in a country called Vietnam. Most of the troops he sent to share the wealth were black. The color of the wealth was orange. It was called napalm. It burned the brown skins off of the people. Strangely it was beautiful. Orange is a beautiful color. Frank Sinatra had an orange living room and an orange plane and always wore an orange handkerchief. He had white skin, though really white skin has orange in it.

Scrooge’s employee was named Bob Cratchit. Bob is basically an accountant. Scrooge does not treat him well. Bob is often cold in that office because on what Scrooge paid him he did not have a coat that kept out the cold and could not afford a fire in his office. Bob had many more children than most would say he could afford. So did I for most of my life. Six of them. Three of them are my nephews. We were always broke.

Until the kids left home, then I suddenly got rich and became a high class call girl for investment firms, minus the sex.

I was in Scrooge’s bedroom when the Ghost of Christmas Past came to him. The Ghost of Christmas Past said “take my robe” and soon he was in a Christmas long forgotten in his youth. I grabbed her robe too, figuring that I should come along for the ride since I’m the author.

Scrooge wound up in a small schoolhouse in England. England is an island, a cold and wet island with castles right out of a fairy tale and people with very white skin. I prefer tropical islands where the people have brown and black skins even though I have white skin. England preferred them too so they made weapons and took over the islands and sent white skinned people there. They also sent black skinned people to America to replace the brown skinned people on plantations.

When I grabbed the the Ghost Christmas Past’s robe I didn’t go back to England in the Victorian era but to a Christmas of my own past. My Christmas was in a place called Germany where I was a prisoner. My mother had just killed herself at the time. Maybe she would not have if she’d been on an island.

Scrooge will learn what his life was is and will be from the Ghosts. He will become a second father to Tiny Tim and give Bob Cratchit wonderful presents and more pay and responsibility. Bob Cratchit will eventually become a very rich man himself and his son Tiny Tim will not die because Scrooge will provide medical care.

The reason Bob Cratchit will become very rich is because he has been embezzling from Scrooge for years. Within seven years he will have all of Scrooge’s fortune and Ebenezer, who by then will be the nicest man in London, will be indigent. The only reason Ebenezer will not be living in a workhouse while Bob indulges increasingly bizarre and expensive tastes in illicit women and larger houses with Ebenezer’s former fortune is because he will be taken to live with a homosexual couple.

One half of the homosexual couple is London’s most successful manicurist and hair stylist, Timoteo. He is Bob Cratchit’s crippled son. When Bob learns he is gay Bob will disown Tim who will change his name to Timoteo and move in with a brown person named Ravi from a village Bob will have destroyed to make rubber so he can become richer and give his new 18 year old mistress a bracelet. The mistress will give Bob sex. Bob will wear a condom which in my day when I was in Germany as a prisoner was called a rubber. All of the labor of the enslaved brown people will be so a man on an island that is cold and wet can have sex with a young girl. So it goes.

But let me start with Jacob Marley’s Ghost coming to see Scrooge. Unlike the other ghosts, he really was a person when he was alive. I don’t know who Casper the Friendly Ghost was, but my guess is he was one of the Wise Men. I don’t know what became of his friends Melchior and Balthazar.
Old 12-21-2007, 01:38 AM
Sampiro Sampiro is offline
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The Spectre Natale by Anne Rice

“You shall thrice be visited this e’en by spirits, who for thousands of years have awaited thy coming, my old lover…” Jacob's form, emaciated, gaunt, yet hauntingly erotic, envoiced in the aeoleon tones of his former tenor.

Ebenezer heard Jacob’s words but did not perceive them, for his true fixation was not auditory but visual. He was far more enraptured by Jacob’s lips, succulent even in death, perhaps more so. The rest of Jacob’s face and countenance was white as snow, but it worked wonderfully. The last time he had seen him he had been pale like Ebenezer, but not as aethereally white as now, his lips the only red about him, and longed to touch that skin that was alabasterian not just in its glow but in its cold hard feel. He longed to drink that Milk of Human Kindness once more from Jacob’s pricked thumb, which as he feasted upon it in the back of his throat reminded him of that summer when he and Jacob had met at the East Buggerford Boy’s School, on that night when they wore nothing but each other and the mosquito netting in the tropical heat of Scotland…

"Take me Jacob!" cried Ebenezer. "Take me on this journey through the æther of time and space! And talk to me of the gradations of human uncaring and iniquity while you do it!"

The Eban Haazer Code by Dan Brown

“At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge, which has as you know its roots in the pagan observance of the Winter Solstice that reached its apex under the Saturnalia of Rome, though Mithraic lore eventually became even more essential, until of course Pope Gregory declared instead this most pagan of holidays the basis of the Feast of the Nativity, or a Mass of the birth of Christ, hence, Christmas, it is more than usually desirable that we should make some small provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries, hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, though arguably less so than a century before due to the general gradual cheapening of manufactured items consequent to the industrialization begun in the mid 18th century that reached its climax in the mid 19th and made goods of all kinds affordable but in so doing ironically impoverished the majority of the nation by making them virtual serfs again, this time to the mercantilist rather than landed gentry classes.”

“Are there no prisons? And workhouses?” asked Ebenezer, his eyes narrowing and his name deriving from the Hebrew eban-Haazer meaning “Stone of Help”. “The treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigor?”

“They are still” said the gentleman. “I wish I could say they are not, but under the Act for the Better Relief of the Poor of this Kingdom established by His Majesty King Charles II, who had many illegitimate children and was forced to agree to humiliating oaths of obedience to the Presbyterian church before being crowned in Scotland shortly after the beheading of his father Charles I by the Puritan government of Cromwell, they became particularly widespread, though even by the time of the passage of the act similar operations had been in operation in Abingdon for a generation” he said taking a seat.
Old 12-21-2007, 02:54 AM
Horatio Hellpop Horatio Hellpop is offline
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Eben Garry Eben Nezer by David Mamet

"You want Christmas off? FUCK YOU, that's your Christmas off! And if I hear one more word about your weepy little crippled kid, I will personally fuck you up, you creepy little faggot!"


Credits in Black, Debits in Red by Lou Dobbs

A few weeks after New Year's, old Scrooge got several bills in the mail. You might say he got a visit from the Ghost of Fiscal Responsibility.
Old 12-21-2007, 03:16 AM
Bryan Ekers Bryan Ekers is offline
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A Christmas Carol, by Ayn Rand:

"Get the hell out of my way, spirits!"
Old 12-21-2007, 05:27 AM
Der Trihs Der Trihs is online now
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A Darkness on Christmas Eve by Simon Green : "

The spirit rose up before him, tall and terrible. "Hello, Ebenezer. It's me, Jacob Marley, your old partner. I've been sent back to this world to convince you to change your ways. If you don't - I'll do to you all the awful things that I've learned how to do since I died. And if you do; well, I'll probably do them to you anyway. I wasn't a very nice man when I was alive, and death seldom improves things."

Last edited by Der Trihs; 12-21-2007 at 05:30 AM.
Old 12-21-2007, 05:58 AM
mobo85 mobo85 is offline
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How the Scrooge Stole Cratchit's Christmas! by Dr. Seuss

Every Cratchit in England liked Christmas a lot...
But the Scrooge- he's the boss of Bob Cratchit- did NOT!
The Scrooge hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be, perhaps, that his hat was too tight.
It could be his clothes didn't fit him just right.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
Was the fact that he was a miserly man who cared for no one but himself, and had bad experiences with Christmas in the past. Either that, or his heart was two sizes too small.

Scrooge, the Family Guy by Seth McFarlane et al

PETER SCROOGE: Bah freakin' humbug! I hate Christmas! Carolers out on the street, charities asking for dough, and the same tired old Christmas specials which show the prejudices of when they were made!
[CUT TO: A parody of the 1964 Rudolph special. Donner and his wife are taken aback by their newborn son's bright red nose.]
DONNER: His beak blinks like a blinkin' beaker! He'll be shunned by modern society for his uniqueness. I can't let that happen! [scrapes mud off the floor and slaps it onto Rudolph's nose. Enter SANTA]
RUDOLPH: Santa! [mud falls off nose]
DONNER: Do you think my boy can be one of your reindeer someday?
SANTA: I don't see how that bright red nose of his could be of any help. [sighs] Every year, it's the same question- [mocking falsetto] "Can my kid be one of your reindeer?" Look, do you know how many times I get asked that? I've had it up to here [raises arm to the level of a Nazi salute] with that question!
[Donner and his wife look on with a shocked, confused stare]
SANTA: What? [notices his own arm] Oh.
LOIS CRATCHIT: Peter, could I have Christmas off?
PETER SCROOGE: [sighs] Look, Lois. You're my only employee...I...I mean, what if you were to get hurt or killed or something? Or knocked up? Unwanted pregnancies and Christmas are two things that do not go together.
LOIS CRATCHIT: But my son...
PETER SCROOGE: Look, if you like your son so much, and if you're so intent on taking the day off, why don't you have him fill in for you?
[cut to STEWIE CRATCHIT at his mother's desk]
STEWIE CRATCHIT: Mark my words, once I get rid of that trollop who brought me into this world, that moneygrubber is next to go.
PETER SCROOGE: I've been working too long. Time for a jump in my money pool...holy crap, it's a ghost! [to himself] Okay, okay. Now calm down. You've seen a lot of movies. You know what to do when you see a ghost.
[CUT TO: A parody of Ghost. As Unchained Melody plays, MARLEY'S GHOST begins to make a clay pot as PETER SCROOGE caresses him]
Old 12-21-2007, 07:53 AM
CalMeacham CalMeacham is offline
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Old Man Scrooge had lived in the dark, boarded-up house for as lomng as anyone could recall. He lived in only the top suite of rooms, but from time to time passers-by reported strange noises coming from the locked rooms beneath. Some reported to have heard the rattling of chains, while others spoke of the loud cacophony of noises reminiscent of a coach-and-four being driven up the stairs. Others voiced dark suspicions that a ramp had been installed, and whole ruminants driven to assuage the appetites of whatever was within.

Late at night, strange lights of a squamous color were seen through the open windows of Scrooge's habitation, and he could be overheard expostulating as if arguing with other persons although no one had been seen to enter. "Leave me alone!" was one phrase he is supposed to have cried. "The Spirits! The Spirits have done it!" another reported. But none dared approach, because the knockers on Scrooge's door seemed to change eerily as one approached.

Matters came to a head on that Solstice evening, when loud noises and strange lights issued from the house, and Scrooge cried louder than before, and ultimately ran mad from the house, wild-eyed and screaming at everyone in the streets. All agreed that he was a changed man, and it was said that whatever had happened in that room had driven him insane.

---H.P. Lovecraft's Ghosts in the Walls
Old 12-21-2007, 09:39 AM
Knowed Out Knowed Out is offline
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A Christmas Corralle, by P.J. O'Rourke

Ebenezer Scrooge embodied capitalism. His heart coursed with high-grade Iraqi oil. His skin was sewn together from the portfolios of CEOs he took over in hostile manners. His bones were surgicaly constituted with the poached ivory from herds of Serengheti Elephants. He drank wine distilled from crushed liberal democrats.

So when his office manager Bob Cratchitt asked for Christmas Eve off, it was like asking Scrooge if he would like to be hooked up to second-hand dialysis machines the rest of his life.

Scrooge said no, and Cratchitt fell to his feet, crying a Delta marsh full of crocodile tears. What followed was a litany of bleeding heart soliloquy, starting with a starving, anemic wife with a body that would make Sarah Michelle Gellar jealous, progressing to caring for a million squawling brats, and ending with a youngest son twisted into a pretzel by the onset of osteoporosis. Scrooge effectively told him to save the drama for his mama and make sure his ass was behind that desk tomorrow.

That night, Scrooge went to bad after ordering the quashing of a few third world economies, and suddenly the lights came back on. Ready to scream at the household help for wasting electricity, Scrooger instead saw a transparant guy wearing chains, claiming to be the Ghost of Christmas Past. GCP rattled the chains while talking in a creaking voice, taking Scrooge on an involuntary ride through Disney's Haunted Mansion.

To add to the chintzy special effects, the ghost opened up a cannister of dry ice and told Scrooge it was now 50 years ago, and showed him how other kids were playing with dangerous lead toys while Scrooge was flipping beads on an abacus and charging fees to smaller kids for breathing his air. The ghost somehow intended for Scrooge to feel bad about this.

The another ghost stepped in, opened another cannister of dry ice, and showed Scrooge the Cratchitt household, with Mrs. Cratchitt serving Bob and his 12 kids filet mignon steaks pruchased with this week's welfare handouts. Tiny Tim hobbled around on a crutch, crude but convincing enough to fool the government into lining the pockets of the Cratchitts further with "It Takes a Village" money. Bob himself bitched constantly about having to work Christmas Eve, but at least would be able to pass the time by playing Halo 3 on his Blackberry. When Scrooge started complaining to the ghost about where his tax money was going, a new ghost with a hoodie and Stalin-era sickle stepped in.

This one showed him a graveyard where Scrooge's funeral was taking place, and the only people there were the priest and couple of illegal immigrant grave diggers. Bob Cratchitt was too busy investing his newly-acquired 51% share holdings into IWhore Doll stock to attend. Turns out Tiny Tim's grave was nearby too, the chraming tyke having been involved in a drug war with so many Colombian cocaine lords armed with Uzis, his bullet-ridden body came out looking like Hilary Clinton's door mat.

This got to Scrooge all right. He realized what a wasted, futile life he was leading. When he woke up, he arranged to have Hailburton merge with his business, and all he had to do from that point on was attend board meetings and sip Mai Tais while Korean slave girls shipped from Japan massaged his shoulders and serviced him from underneath the mahogany meeting tables.
Old 12-21-2007, 09:44 AM
Nametag Nametag is online now
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Beggars of the London Streets - Zane Gray

A sharp rattle of iron chains deadened and died away, and clouds of soot and fog drifted outside the windows. Ebenezer Scrooge gazed across the narrow lane with haunted and troubled eyes. Marley had just left him, and it was his message that held him frightened and almost sad, awaiting the spirits who were coming to attack his right to save a little coin. He wondered if the cheer and merriment that had lately overcome the grim city of his birth was to involve him. And then he sighed, remembering that his partner had founded this meanest holding company in southern London and that he had left it to him. He owned all the building and many of the businesses. Scrooge and Marley was his, and the Scrivener building, with its thousands of desks, and the cheapest heating of the age. To him belonged Bob Cratchit, the assistant who gave toil
and sweat to the business and made a living possible on that cold gray grimy street. He could not escape being involved by whatever befell London.

Scrooge prayed that the tranquillity and sameness of his life would not be permanently disrupted. He meant to get so much more from his business than he had done. He
wanted the dreary quiet days to last always. Visits from dead partners and elemental spirits would make him unhappy. He was a skeptic born, and and already convincing himelf there would be no visits. He wished only to go on doing business and saving money. And he thought of what that drafty office meant to him. He hated it all—the rattle of papers, the stench of ink, the unpainted walls, and the hordes of shaggy, dusty clerks and workmen, the sleek, heavy-limbed, blue-blooded peers, and the browsing herds of shoppers and the lean, consumption-pale beggars of the street.
Old 12-21-2007, 10:25 AM
koeeoaddi koeeoaddi is offline
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e e cummings



who told carolers
	to piss off with a holly-sprig 	


got scared with onetwothreefour ghostsinhisface	

                                                       Tim on a crutch

he was an bent old bastard

			glurgehatingangel, but

how do you like your merry weenie now

Jacob Marley?
Old 12-21-2007, 10:26 AM
Captain Carrot Captain Carrot is offline
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The Middle of the Winter - Robert Jordan

The Long Day - Robert Jordan

The Financier Unflinching - Robert Jordan

The Darkness Creeping - Robert Jordan

The Frosts of London - Robert Jordan

Spirit of Yesteryear - Robert Jordan

An Aura of Vice - Robert Jordan

The Road of Repentance - Robert Jordan

Stinginess' Heart - Robert Jordan

Roundabout of Eventide - Robert Jordan

Sight of Dooms - Robert Jordan

A Turn from Perdition - Robert Jordan

Yes, some of these are a bit of a stretch, but I tried to make them fit both the pattern of his titles and the progression of the story. Work with me here.
Old 12-21-2007, 10:32 AM
NailBunny NailBunny is offline
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Originally Posted by koeeoaddi
e e cummings



who told carolers
	to piss off with a holly-sprig 	


got scared with onetwothreefour ghostsinhisface	

                                                       Tim on a crutch

he was an bent old bastard

			glurgehatingangel, but

how do you like your merry weenie now

Jacob Marley?
Love it!!!
Old 12-21-2007, 11:26 AM
DoctorJ DoctorJ is offline
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MARCELLUS SCROOGE: I think you're gonna find, when all this shit is over, this Christmas humbug...I think you're gonna find yourself one smiling motherfucker. Thing is, Butch, right now, we got business to do, and painful as it may be, business don't stop just because it's Christmas. Now that's a hard motherfucking fact of life, but it's a fact of life your ass is going to have to get realistic about.

See, this business is filled with unrealistic motherfuckers, motherfuckers who think their ass is going to spend Christmas at home with their families. If you mean they get fired, they do. If you mean they get time off, they don't.

'Sides, Butch, what you got at home anyway. Two kids? Three? You ain't never gonna be the boss, Butch, and if you was gonna make it, you'da made it.

(holds out pittance of coins) You my nigga?

BUTCH CRATCHIT: (hesitates before taking money) It certainly appears so.

MARCELLUS SCROOGE: Now when you're working on Christmas, you might feel a slight sting. That's pride, fucking with you. FUCK pride. Pride only hurts. It never helps. 'Cause a year from now, when you've made me a bunch more money, you're gonna say, Marcellus Scrooge was right.

BUTCH CRATCHIT: I have no problem with that, Mr. Scrooge.

MARCELLUS SCROOGE: On Christmas Day, your ass is here at work. Say it.

BUTCH CRATCHIT: On Christmas Day my ass is here at work.
Old 12-21-2007, 11:45 AM
Sampiro Sampiro is offline
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Posts: 36,258
a Heroes Christmas

Ghost of Christmas Past/Present/Future (Hiro Nakamura): I have shown you the things that were, are, and will be.

Ebenezer Petrelli (Milo Ventimiglia): Like... whoa.

(The scene is saved in that Petrelli is only wearing his boxers throughtout.)


Tyler Perry's A CHRISTMAS CAROL starring Tyler Perry and written by Tyler Perry

Madea Scrooge (played by Tyler Perry): Oh no wacky wacky that's my 2nd grade teacher Ms Marsden and there's that little kid used to pull my hair. I'm bigger now... come here 7 year old me, let's tag team and beat the hell out of him...

Ghost of Christmas Past (played by Tyler Perry): There's no reason to speak to them. They are ghosts. They can neither see nor hear you.

Madea: I bet they can see or hear this! (pulls a .42 and opens fire- the children scream and run)

Madea: Tell me haint, is that crackbaby gonna live?

Ghost of Christmas Present (played by Tyler Perry): I see a Tickle Me Elmo without an owner well preserved sentimentally.

Madea: Okay just checkin'.

Ghost of Christmas Present: Because you know folks, crack is a huge problem to our people, and its effects on the unborn are perhaps the most devastating toll it takes. [he looks poignantly and silently into the camera to make sure the audience gets the point, then walks away as melodramatic sad music plays].

Last edited by Sampiro; 12-21-2007 at 11:45 AM.
Old 12-21-2007, 11:48 AM
anyrose anyrose is offline
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Originally Posted by DoctorJ
MARCELLUS SCROOGE: I think you're gonna find,
BUTCH CRATCHIT: On Christmas Day my ass is here at work.
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid????????

Last edited by anyrose; 12-21-2007 at 11:49 AM. Reason: added some ???s because I really can't ID the style
Old 12-21-2007, 11:57 AM
Sampiro Sampiro is offline
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Originally Posted by anyrose
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid????????
Pulp Fiction
Old 12-21-2007, 11:57 AM
anyrose anyrose is offline
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Originally Posted by Sampiro
Pulp Fiction
Old 12-21-2007, 12:34 PM
Elendil's Heir Elendil's Heir is offline
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The Scrooge Files
by Chris Carter

"Spirits, begone!" said Scrooge, his voice quavering. He pulled his blanket up to his chin and pointed a bony finger at the two well-dressed figures. "You have no business here!"

"It's all right, sir," FBI Special Agent Fox Mulder said placatingly. He holstered his 9mm and pointed his penlight away from the old man. "Deputy Director Skinner sent us to investigate the paranormal phenomenon you reported. We're here to help."

Scrooge moaned in fear and burrowed deeper under the threadbare covers.

"Come on, Mulder," Dana Scully muttered, shining her penlight around the drafty bedchamber. "There aren't any spirits here. This poor old guy is clearly deluded."

"Maybe, Scully, but maybe not. Think about it. Three different ghosts, all on the same night? It's huge." He smiled. "This could be the biggest thing since the Toledo manifestations of 1967, or the Dusseldorf poltergeists of '83."

Scully rolled her eyes. "Or the Mulder delusion of '07. Come on, it's Christmas Eve! I can think of a million things I'd rather be doing than this right now."

"Don't let thoughts of holiday merriment distract you from maybe the biggest case of our careers, Scully." Scrooge moaned again, and Mulder gestured to the bed. "I'm telling you, the truth is in here...."
Old 12-21-2007, 02:30 PM
kingpengvin kingpengvin is offline
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SCROOGE by the bard

SCROOGE: By mine withered eye Is it Marley I see? Appirition what doth thou needst with me?

MARLEY: Avenge me my partner!

SCROOGE: Vengence? Fie, what is it that thou needest vengence for? You who hath made duccets by day in twenty score?

MARLEY: Duccets?!? What use is your worldly money to me, when my life be ended by thy own vassel Cratchit! Avenge me upon the scurvy knave and with holly stake him down lest the stakes be too dear.

SCROOGE: Stakes or steaks what mean they to me? Tis rancid beef all the same! That which clouds the eyes and turns humours to ill. Be gone appirition if that be your will.

MARLEY: Beef barely or bread matters not in this matter, tis time to strike Cratchit dead in his wake. Strike now while the iron is hot and strike hard you shall lest Christmas pass without Cratchit's death and his boy.
Old 12-21-2007, 02:32 PM
kingpengvin kingpengvin is offline
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SCROOGE by the bard

SCROOGE: By mine withered eye Is it Marley I see? Appirition what doth thou needst with me?

MARLEY: Avenge me my partner!

SCROOGE: Vengence? Fie, what is it that thou needest vengence for? You who hath made duccets by day in twenty score?

MARLEY: Duccets?!? What use is your worldly money to me, when my life be ended by thy own vassel Cratchit! Avenge me upon the scurvy knave and with holly stake him down lest the stakes be too dear.

SCROOGE: Stakes or steaks what mean they to me? Tis rancid beef all the same! That which clouds the eyes and turns humours to ill. Be gone appirition if that be your will.

MARLEY: Beef barely or bread matters not in this matter, tis time to strike Cratchit dead in his wake. Strike now while the iron is hot and strike hard you shall lest Christmas pass without Cratchit's death and add to that his lame boy.

SCROOGE: By Fury by Wrath so shall it be. Vengence for you and lame boy pie for me!!
Old 12-21-2007, 11:27 PM
Oslo Ostragoth Oslo Ostragoth is offline
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Somebody clever and talented (obviously I'm not qualified) pleasepleaseplease do A Deadwood Christmas Carol.

Last edited by Oslo Ostragoth; 12-21-2007 at 11:27 PM.
Old 12-21-2007, 11:32 PM
Infovore Infovore is offline
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And someone else clever and talented, please please please do Chuck Palahniuk's version.
Old 12-22-2007, 12:06 AM
DoctorJ DoctorJ is offline
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Lots of profanity in this one, so I'm spoiler-tagging the whole thing.

A Christmas Carol by Kevin Smith
DANTE SCROOGE is behind the counter at his convenient store when the ghost of RANDALL MARLEY walks in, goes to the porno section, and starts reading. DANTE notices him.


RANDALL MARLEY: (doesn't look up from porn) Dude, chill the fuck out. Jesus, it's like you've never seen your partner's ghost before.

DANTE: But you're, you're DEAD! You broke your neck trying to suck your own dick!

RANDALL: This would explain why I'm a ghost. You see, ghosts are projections of the dead into the realm of the living, in which they take on a physical appearance to facilitate interaction. You think that Tiny Tim kid has a big dick?

DANTE: What?

RANDALL: See, if I met a guy named Tiny Tim, no matter how little he was, I'd bet anything that he had a giant schlong. Otherwise he wouldn't let people go around calling him "Tiny". I sure hope he's packing, 'cause you know that whole crippled thing is going to get him crazy laid in high school. He's going to need that crutch to fight off the sympathy pussy.

DANTE: But...but...look, I don't care about Tiny Tim's dick, OK? What the fuck are you doing here!?!

RANDALL: Oh yeah. I'm supposed to tell you that three ghosts are coming to visit you tonight.

DANTE: Me? Three ghosts coming to visit me? Why? I mean, I'm not even supposed to be here today!

RANDALL: That's right. It's Christmas Eve, and you should be at home with that little woman of yours making the yuletide a little less gay. But here you are, in this shithole. Not a customer around, and here you are. Maybe these ghosts can help you pull a little bit of that yule log out of your ass.

DANTE: Yeah, harsh words from the guy who died trying to suck his own dick.

RANDALL: I wasn't trying, man! I was succeeding, and don't you ever fucking forget it! I will be a hero throughout the ages because I succeeded where so many have tried and failed. Besides, sucking my own dick is a hell of a lot more than you've ever accomplished. I'm out of here. Look me up when you get this shit figured out.

(RANDALL leaves out the door. Meanwhile, two ghosts--a skinny blonde one and a fat one in a trenchcoat--come in through the ceiling.)


DANTE: OK, so who the fuck are you?

JAY: Who the fuck am I? I'm the smooth pimp they call the Ghost of Christmas Past, and Lunch Box here is the Ghost of Christmas Future. He don't say much, he thinks he's being all mysterious and shit, like OOOOOOH.

DANTE: I thought he said there were three ghosts?

JAY: Oh, yeah, man, there was this fine, fine piece of Christmas Present tail, and the whole way down here I was like, hey, baby, we got a long ride, why don't we let Tugboat here drive while me and you roll up a blunt and get freaky and shit? And she's like, let me out of the fuckin' car. I think she was a dyke or some shit like that. Who the fuck needs a ghost to see the present, anyway? Shit, that's what we're lookin' at all the damn time.

DANTE: Look, just what do I have to do to get all you spirits to LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!

JAY: Hey, we're just trying to do a little This Is Your Life, and shit. Come on; I'm takin' your ass back to the past, and then later this tubby bitch will show you the future. We gotta get back so I can go troll for some real live puss-ay--I'm tired of all those see-through bitches back home.

(JAY holds out his arm. DANTE steps from around the counter and takes it.)

JAY: Fuckin' faggot. SNOOGANS! (they disappear)
Old 12-22-2007, 01:14 AM
don't ask don't ask is offline
Join Date: May 2001
Location: Sydney, Australia
Posts: 17,814
Christmas '61 Revisited
by Bob Dylan

Oh Scrooge said to Cratchit, "A day off now son"
Bob says, "Scrooge, you must be puttin' me on"
Scrooge say, "No." Bob say, "What?"
Scrooge say, "You can do what you want tomorrow, but
The next day I better see you comin' in on the run"
Well Bob says, "Merry Christmas from me, my wife and my son."
Scrooge says, "Bah Humbug, everyone."

Well Jacob Marley he appears as a ghost
With chains and metal trinkets over his clothes
Scrooge asked poor Jacob where can I go
Jake said there's only one place I know
Scrooge said tell me quick man I want to run
Ol' Jacob just kept looking glum
And said here come the spirits one by one.

Well Scrooge's father was an evil thing
Christmas Past showed how childhood did sting
Little Fan dead as a church bell rings
"Do you know how I can deal with these things?"
And Christmas Past said let me think for a minute son
And he said yes I think it can be easily done
Just give me that cap and I'll put it on.

Now the second spirit on the same night
Told old Scrooge that things weren't right
The Cratchit's Christmas is just too light
He said come here and show me the light he says hmm you're right
And Tiny Tim's death will strike this family dumb
Kill the mother by killing the crippled son
And is this the Christmas yet to come?

Now the last spirit he was far from bored
He was tryin' to create an internal war
He found old Scrooge cowering on the floor
He said I often engaged in this kind of thing before
And yes I think it can be very easily done
Change your ways Scrooge get out in the sun
And have a Merry Christmas each and every one.
Old 12-22-2007, 04:53 AM
Horatio Hellpop Horatio Hellpop is offline
Join Date: Aug 2002
Location: Gumi, S. Korea
Posts: 9,186
A Christmas Carol by Aaron Sorkin

MARLEY: Scrooge?

SCROOGE: Marley? That you? I haven't seen you since we did that thing with that guy that time.

MARLEY: Yeah, it's been a while, I guess. Walk with me a minute.

SCROOGE: Okay, but when we go by Cratchit's desk, I'm gonna mumble something below my breath and I want you to laugh like I just said something really funny.

MARLEY: Yeah. About Cratchit... Look, I've got some friends coming by who need to talk to you about some stuff.

SCROOGE: Aren't you dead?


SCROOGE: Dead. Didn't you stroke out in a hotel room with my really short ex-secretary or something?

MARLEY: Or something, yeah. Don't dwell on it. There's something I really need to talk to you about.

SCROOGE: But you're dead and now you're here. What happened? You can tell me the truth.

MARLEY:The truth?

SCROOGE: I think I've earned it.

MARLEY: You can't handle the truth.

SCROOGE: Oh try me.

MARLEY: Okay. The truth is, we just walked in a circle. Twice.

SCROOGE: Ouch! Anyone ever tell you you look exactly like Joshua Malina?

MARLEY: Isn't that they guy who played Dr. Octopus?

SCROOGE: Different Molina.

MARLEY: Oh. Um, no.
Old 12-22-2007, 07:31 AM
anyrose anyrose is offline
Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: at my computer
Posts: 21,151
Originally Posted by DoctorJ
Lots of profanity in this one, so I'm spoiler-tagging the whole thing.

A Christmas Carol by Kevin Smith
So excellently written, in fact, I could hear the actors voices!

Originally Posted by don't ask
Christmas '61 Revisited
by Bob Dylan
Also excellent
Old 12-22-2007, 07:54 AM
C K Dexter Haven C K Dexter Haven is offline
Right Hand of the Master
Charter Member
Join Date: Feb 1999
Location: Chicago north suburb
Posts: 16,078
Originally Posted by Doctor J
Lots of profanity in this one, so I'm spoiler-tagging the whole thing.
Moderator interjects: There's no need. There's a common misapprehension that profanity is forbidden in this forum. Not true. Profanity directed against other posters is not permitted, but we're not trying to censor language itself. This is an adult site.

F'rinstance, the DEADWOOD version of A Christmas Carol would probably end with Tiny Tim saying, "Ah, shit! Fuckin' God fuckin' bless the whole fuckin' lot of us, every fuckin' one."

PS - There's some great writing in this thread! Man, what talents!!

Last edited by C K Dexter Haven; 12-22-2007 at 07:56 AM.
Old 12-22-2007, 08:11 AM
anyrose anyrose is offline
Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: at my computer
Posts: 21,151
A Story Of Christmas
by Dr William S Gray
It is winter.
See the snow.
See the pretty things in the store window.
Christmas is coming.
Today is December 24th
See the counting house.
See Bob Cratchit.
He is cold.
See Ebenezer Scrooge
He is old.
He is mean.
He keeps all his money to himself.
The work day is over. Hooray.
Mister Scrooge tells Mister Cratchit to stay home for Christmas Day but to come to work very early on December 26th.
Mister Scrooge goes home.
"EEK" says Mister Scrooge. "EEK! Ghosts!"
"BOOO!" says the ghost of Jacob Marley
"BOOO!" says the ghost of Christmas Past
"BOOO!" says the ghost of Christmas Present
"_____" says the ghost of Christmas Future, because he doesn't talk.
"Golly" says Mister Scrooge "I have been a very mean man."
See Mister Scrooge bring presents to Mister Cratchit's house.
The End.
Old 12-22-2007, 08:34 AM
What Exit? What Exit? is offline
Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: Central NJ (near Bree)
Posts: 28,023
Originally Posted by DoctorJ
Lots of profanity in this one, so I'm spoiler-tagging the whole thing.

A Christmas Carol by Kevin Smith
Dude, that was so dead on, it is spooky. Wow, big time laugh from me.

In honor of the inspiration for this thread, I am attempting to do an opening in the style of the Hobbit, so far, I am failing, I will try again soon.

Maybe QtM will step up and save me the embarrassment.

Old 12-23-2007, 01:27 AM
Sampiro Sampiro is offline
Join Date: Aug 2002
Posts: 36,258
Originally Posted by Oslo Ostragoth
pleasepleaseplease do A Deadwood Christmas Carol.
Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it will be done. The Whores of Christmas Past, Present, and Future will teach a miserable old cocksucker the meaning of the Christmas. Or die trying.
Old 12-24-2007, 08:41 AM
GrizzRich GrizzRich is offline
Join Date: Dec 2000
Location: Palm Coast, FL
Posts: 2,605
A Visit with Ebeneezer by Marcel Marceau

Old 12-24-2007, 09:37 AM
Superfluous Parentheses Superfluous Parentheses is offline
Join Date: Dec 2007
Location: The Netherlands / Holland
Posts: 3,871
A heart of ice.

As told by Marley.

"Entering that city was like travelling back to the earliest beginnings of the world.
when ice rioted on the earth and giant beasts were
kings. An empty street, a great silence, an impenetrable town. The air
was cold, fogged, heavy, sluggish. There was no joy in the brilliance of
sunshine. The long stretches of road ran on, deserted, into
the gloom of overshadowed distances.

The alleys flowed through a mob of houses; you lost your way in that city as you
would in a desert, and butted all day long against walls, trying to
find the passage, till you thought yourself bewitched and cut off for
ever from everything you had known once--somewhere--far away--in another
existence perhaps. There were moments when one's past came back to one,
as it will sometimes when you have not a moment to spare for yourself;
but it came in the shape of an unrestful and noisy dream, remembered
with wonder amongst the overwhelming realities of this strange world of
houses, and snow, and silence. And this stillness of life did not in
the least resemble a peace. It was the stillness of an implacable force
brooding over an inscrutable intention. It looked at you with a vengeful

It made you feel very small, very lost, and
yet it was not altogether depressing, that feeling. After all, if you
were small, the grimy beetle crawled on--which was just what you wanted
it to do. Where the spirits imagined it crawled to I don't know.
To some place where they expected to get something. I bet! For me it
crawled towards Scrooge--exclusively."
Old 12-26-2007, 07:09 PM
Sampiro Sampiro is offline
Join Date: Aug 2002
Posts: 36,258
Apologies for the delay and for the quality of the following, but sense nobody else has stepped forward:

A DEADWOOD CHRISTMAS CAROL (with almost no exposition or dialogue or lead-in)


“Jack Fucking Marley. The last time I saw you you must have been filled with fifteen fucking bullets courtesy of the cocksucking Pinkertons. Which leads me to believe some canned peaches have some poisoning or that Trixie put some of Wu’s magic powder in my whiskey, whereupon if it is true will most probably result in my boot making repeated contact with her temple. But while the delusion lasts let me greet you with something akin to real affection.”

“I ain’t no fucking bad peach Al and I ain’t no Celestial powder. I’m here. A ghost if you wanna call me that. I don’t right know what I am. But I know I got sent here to tell you they’re a comin’ for ya.”

“Who? Those cocksucking Pinkertons? Don’t worry…”

“Pinkertons are the least of your worries me boyo…”

“Only if a plague has sent them to cocksucker’s hell.”

“Your immortal soul’s gone be in hell, and that’s what I come to tell ya.”

“Oh holy fucking gossamer shit Jack! You’re the one taught me how to cut a throat and how to kick a whore half to death without detrimenting her commercialism, don’t tell me you found Jesus somewhere between the mortal bullet wounds.”

“Didn't say nothing about Jesus. Twas another being all together. And he found me. Weren’t for lack of me hidin’ neither.”

“Well good to see you Jack. I’ll let you show yourself out while I sleep you the fuck off.”

“You’re gone have three visitors tonight…”

“That’s way under my usual number. Long as Bullock ain’t one of ‘em. I’m fucking tired of him.”

"The visitors are to show you the true meaning of this time of year, what you have missed by not keeping Christmas. What you will..."

"Pardon me if I seem rude when I sing at the top of my lungs to drown you the fuck out. TOM BOLEYNE WAS A SCOTSMAN BORN HIS SHOES WAS TIGHT HIS BRITCHES WAS TORN HE”

“…to show you what will be and…”


“…and your choice. I'm goin' now Al, but you will be visited.”

“Motherfucking canned peaches. Why can’t I get just get the vapors and shits like other people. Instead I get a Jesus lovin’ cocksuckin’ ghost.”

Old 12-26-2007, 07:18 PM
Sampiro Sampiro is offline
Join Date: Aug 2002
Posts: 36,258
The Ghost of Christmas Past: “Do you know this city?”

“Strangely enough I do. I haven’t laid eyes on it in fifty years. London. Where shite both literal and figurative and humanistic collects as if summoned for the final fucking battle.”

“And do you see through the window? Do you recognize the little boy in there?”

“I am going to leap from the dragon’s mouth and postulate that the boy tis I. Otherwise you’re wasting my fucking time here, which is not in any way to negate that this is what you are doing now even if it is I."

“You came with me willingly enough.”

“Only because I want to fucking sleep and regretfully I am in my night robe and thus not possessed of a knife.”

“Look through the window Al.”

“Indeed it’s me. What a difference you have made in my life. You have fairly won my soul. All is now well. I implore thee heartedly do restore me to my bed that I might at once atone for all ill doings. Perhaps I shall take the collar and save souls iterantly, though a leper colony in the Hawaiians has alternate claims upon my spirit, or I’ll convert the whorehouse to a nunnery and have them tit feed blind horses while giving free ass fucks to Celestials with lumbago. Now let me fucking go.”

“NO! Look closer through the window. It is you. Little Aloysius O’Neill…”

“Whatever fucking equates with disemboweling for the ethereal will become you should either of those fucking names pass what apes the appearance of lips for the human and the living once more!”

“Fair enough. It’s not as if you kept them long. You’re alone and wearing your paper hat.”

“What a pisspot of a room. That I’d forgotten. I remember it now though. That goddamned picture of a parrot. She pulled it out of a newspaper hoping it would bring color.”

The room is indeed a pisspot, a cold one at that. Large enough for a small bed and a crude chair and nothing else, with gray walls brightened only by the picture of the parrot. The child Al is hiding under the bed as the sounds of sex drift through the thin walls.

“You’re alone.”

PRESENT AL: “I’ll wager it was the governess’s day off. She split her time twixt me and the Crown Princess Victoria. This must have been one of her days with Vicki.”

The sex stops and a moment later a young dark haired woman, dressed cheaply in years out of fashion Regency style clothes that leave no doubt as to her profession, but clean and nonetheless very attractive. She has a thick Irish accent.

“Allie babby, come love on your Ma sweetie.” Her words are slurred. She’s clearly intoxicated.

The little Aloysius O’Neill runs to her, all tears disappearing as he leaps at her. “I wasn’t scared Ma, I wasn’t scared, I promise!”

“And of course you weren’t! You’re Angela O’Neill’s big man ain’t ya? I’m just so sorry it took me so long at me job tonight… there’s lots of men need… lace made for them at Christmas. ”

PRESENT AL: “Lace is here employed in its euphemistic sense for having one’s cock sucked for, I would estimate, two shillings.”

Angela: And look what I brung ya! [from her wrap she produces a toy sailing ship- Boy Al is thrilled] And that’s not all! We’re going to be going on one of the real things! Your ma spent the e’en making lace for the captain of a ship that’s sailing to America, where the Red Indians and the mountains are there for ye to play with! Clean air, and maybe we’ll find a da, and we’ll live on a farm, and ye’ll have a cow and a horse! It’s called the New World, and it will be for us then!”

Little Al is enraptured.

PRESENT AL: ‘Yes, maybe we will. And maybe the farm will have a unicorn and a staircase carved from ivory that leads to a golden castle. Or better yet, perhaps you’ll decide what you’d really rather do is suck cock in the open in an alley in New York down on your fucking knees in the gutter for men who don’t even care that a boy’s looking on. And neither do you cause you’re too fucking drunk and it’s the only way you can keep an eye on me and also get money for us to eat. You cheap fucking whore.

GHOST: She hurt no one at least. Other than you.

PRESENT AL: “Huzzah for the old cum guzzler then. I was the only one she shouldn’t have. If she’d hurt the others instead then maybe she wouldn’t have wound up… Enough of this shit gazing. I’d forgotten how beautiful she was once though. If she’d had me as I am now instead of then, she’d have never sucked a cock for a dime. That I can tell you. She did once. Wretched miserable stinking whore I wish I could put my foot on her head and with vigor!”

GHOST: Do you? Then you should well have been glad to be rid of her then.

The Scene Changes to a Snowy Street

In the back of a closed carriage a pimp is brutally beating Angela. She strikes him back- hard- for the first time ever, which makes him completely insane. He pulls a gun and fires it into her face, but it misfires. In that time she has reached into his belt, pulled out his knife and plunged it into his stomach. He looks at her stunned, then prepares to beat her again. Some demon inside of her breaks free. Soon she’s stabbing him repeatedly, until he’s dead. Then overkill. When she comes to and realizes what she’s done she drops the knife and runs… as an afterthought only she runs back down the alley and takes his purse.
The scene changes to the room, every bit as small and miserable as in London, where she is dressing the just roused from slumber Al, now perhaps 7 years old, and telling him “Ma has heard from a friend… in Savannah… that’s in Georgia… and I must go to her. She’s got us a little farm. And once I’m there I’ll send for ya. I promise ya.”

PRESENT AL: “So she killed a man. Who knew she had the gumption. Should have clocked that one, no other way she’d have had the money. Let’s transist us now to the orphanage cause I’ll tell you what happens next. She drags my freezing little ass through the streets of fucking Chicago… little pigsty in those days… she’ll knock one two three four times on the door of the orphanage for Mrs. Fatass Fucking Anderson to steal the seven dollars and sixty something cents I never got a chance to count so that she can be off to Georgia and suck cock for cotton bolls or some fuck, then if you wanna see me I’ll be getting the shit beaten out of me by my so called foster father after his concrete mixer son flips around like a fucking catfish on a July sidewalk til they send me back to Mrs. Fatass Fucking Anderson, then low and behold a year later my mom comes to get me and she’s sucking cock for crawdads or some fuck in New Orleans for a year and I’m out in the street saying ‘Hey sailor you wanna try the best cocksucker in town then give me a dollar and follow me to the Rue de St. Ann where I’ll introduce him to my own fucking mother and we’ll stay there until she sucks her way onto a fucking ship bound for God knows where and a man holds me down while I scream and by then I’m thirteen or thereabouts and I say fuck you all to the lot of them. Now that takes us up to 1840, thanks a fucking lot for the memories but I promise you they were in there already can I go back to my bed now?

“No, not yet. Let’s take a fly for our health to a place with wonderful views and luscious seas.”

“San Francisco. 1851 from the looks of it. There’s me. Goddamn was I ever that young. Twenty two or twenty three I'd guess I’d guess.”


Last edited by Sampiro; 12-26-2007 at 07:20 PM.
Old 12-26-2007, 08:52 PM
Oslo Ostragoth Oslo Ostragoth is offline
Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: the Prairie
Posts: 6,771
(Sniff) Brilliant, Sampiro.
Old 12-27-2007, 12:15 AM
Oslo Ostragoth Oslo Ostragoth is offline
Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: the Prairie
Posts: 6,771
Originally Posted by Oslo Ostragoth
(Sniff) Brilliant, Sampiro.
Dammit. Shoulda been:

(Sniff) Fucking brilliant, Sampiro. This limber-dicked cocksucker salutes you.

(I told you I wasn't clever or talented.)
Old 12-09-2008, 12:25 AM
Sampiro Sampiro is offline
Join Date: Aug 2002
Posts: 36,258

The Big Bang Theory: A Christmas Carol

[Sheldon has just gone on a journey with the Ghost of Christmas Past.]

Sheldon: So then, at one point you were Christmas, but then you died...

GCP: Nein! Again! I was not Christmas! I am the Ghost of Christmas Past...

Sheldon: But does that mean you are the past ghost of a Christmas, or that you are a person whose name was once Christmas Past but, obviously only in the paradigm of this particular dream and or hallucination...

GCP: Why do you think it is a dream or hallucination?

Sheldon: Because the possibility of ghosts being real is about in 300 trillion to begin with for various reasons, but the odds of a ghost being dedicated to a specifically religious holiday and having the power to not only transcend time and physical objects but to impart ability would be approximately one in more than 904 octillion, which I'd explain but you'd be hopelessly lost...

GCP: In case you haven't noticed I am Leibniz!

Sheldon: My point precisely, meaning that the changes in advanced mathematics just in my own lifetime are immense but for the past 350 years, you might as well be comparing painting on cave walls to a hypothetical Wii bison kill... ooh... Wii bison kill, with the right choice of knapped points you might... when I wake up from the dream I hope I retain that...

GCP: It is no dream! And to make matters clear I am not a ghost, perhaps I'll grant that is a title poorly chosen. How should I say... I am spirit, I am the incarnation of Christmas spirit, specifically of past Christmases...

Sheldon: So you're a historian? I prefer sciences. History is entirely too subjective, except of course for the facts but those are almost impossible to deduce and...

GCP: I am not a historian I am the Spirit of Christmas Past! And now we are in the past! LOOK!

[Sheldon is shown a 13 year old version of himself, alone in his university dorm room]

GCP: Ja, you see, it is Weinachten und are you mit your family? Nein! You are all alone in a bare and empty dorm room...

Sheldon: Oh God I remember that... Best. Christmas. Ever! My roommate at the time was a post-doctoral geometry student with atrocious hygiene habits so being alone at Christmas , which took considerable persuasion and argumentation and a nightmare of red tape and ultimately legal emancipation and threatened restraining orders with my parents allowed me not only to clean the dorm for the first time but to concentrate on my theory about the Newfield-Stern equations which...

GCP: Ja ja ja... you are alone on Christmas!

Sheldon: Yes, again, you don't listen. I was alone on Christmas when I was 13, which I already knew. So if you are Christmas Past shouldn't you show me somebody else's past? Because I remember mine and thus this isn't a learning experience at all...

GCP: No, I show you your past. I only can show you your past. I am the ghost of YOUR Christmas Past.

Sheldon: So once you were MY Christmas Past, and then you died and became...

GCP: ICH BIN NICHT TOHT! I AM NOT DEAD! I AM A SPIRIT BUT... what in the hell are you doing? Are you--- how to say--- constipated?

Sheldon: No, I'm trying to communicate with my 13 year old self to save myself 4 years of futile efforts by taking the internship with Dr. Rajogotopol, whose complete error in his interpretations of the Fornheim Hypothesis would delay my ultima...

GCP: Let me explain. Again. Your thirteen year old self is a shadow. He cannot see you. He cannot hear you. He can only...

13 Year Old Sheldon: Really? Is it because of the emphasis he puts on the Sherman-Osserian-Yamuka sequences? Because I'll admit I've had a niggling that the role of the 87th prime in that is overrated.

Sheldon: Of course, and also you'll note...

GCP: How are you doing that? You're not supposed to be able to communicate with him the...

Sheldon (annoyed): Simple. If you're only able to move within my life and my experiences then clearly you've established a temporal expresslink between my current cognition and my 13 year old cognition. Now timespace being roughly like a DVD of Bladerunner- all of the scenes and frames happening at the same and not at all when the DVD's not in the player, and the player being essentially the present, I've essentially clicked on Special Features and accessed the appropriate scene by sending certain impulses to 13 year old Sheldon...

13 Year Old Sheldon: Sheldon -14y for clarification. Ah, there you are. Why Leibniz?

GCP: I am the Ghost of Christmas Past!

13 Year Old Sheldon: Did you used to be Ch... ah, okay... got it.

GCP: At least he understands.

Sheldon: Of course he does because I just gave him access to my thoughts which means he remembers the conversation on the nature of your ghostliness such as it is.

13 Year Old Sheldon: I'm going to do post doctoral at UCLA? Why?

GCP: Nein! He can't be access to the future information! It could destroy the entire sequence of...

Sheldon: Nonsense, because if it could it already would have, assuming this is the same timespace dimension as the one we already exist in, which clearly it isn't since I obviously would have remembered a conversation with my 30 year old self occurring at 13, so therefore this is an admittedly almost identical alternate universe where this occurred naturally and whatever changes it makes from him having access to my 17 years of research will not be changes at all but natural progressions.

13 Year Old Sheldon: They really should have sent Feynman, he was way more current and might have understood. Hey, let's play chess and see if it's possible to even capture a single piece. There is 17 years of difference between us, including hormonal and experience, and thus at once you're more experienced BUT at the same time my mind is clear of potential misinformation.

Sheldon: Great idea! Of course in fairness we have to...

13 Year Old Alternate Universe Sheldon: ...close the mind bridge, that goes without saying.

GCP: You are supposed to learn from this about Christmas!

Both Sheldons: Holiday celebrated on December 25 since the Dark Ages ostensibly to force Christianity into the pagan infrastructure by cannibalizing a pagan solstice festival with a Christian holiday and in so doing...

GCP: I fucking quit!

Sheldon wakes up in his bed.

Sheldon: Hmm... intriguing dream. Would I have kicked my 13 year old ass in chess and if so would it have caused emotional trauma in this existence or just in the alternate one... oh well. I suppose we'll never know. I feel like Cheerios.


GCPr: No, I am the ghost of Christmas Present!

Sheldon: Christmas Future!

GCPr: What part of Present do you not understand! THIS CHRISTMAS!

Sheldon: Well in the first place you can't be the ghost of something that hasn't lived yet unless perhaps you live in a reality in which time flows backwards which is not impossible but highly unlikely you'd be able to communicate and you'd already know I win this argument. In the second place this is Christmas Eve and you're trying to show me scenes of a celebration that is clearly December 25 and thus have not transpired yet and are, hence, the future. Putting aside all semantic disagreements as to Ghost, if you are showing me the future, even if only by a few hours, you are the Ghost of Christmas Future, and if the third [air quotes]Ghost[/air quotes] is to show me more distant future events, which are only potential or alternative reality anyway and thus really not up for discussion as a learning experience, then he or she is simply another ghost of Christmas Future, but it would seem to be far more fluid and less invasive on your assigned cases just to admit you're a ghost of Christmas future and go with that since you cannot be the ghost of Christmas Present if it is not in fact Christmas.

GCPr: Are you even going to ask me if the little boy with the crutch at Penny's family reunion is going to live?

Sheldon: Of course he is. This isn't Dickensian London after all. Her father's a middle class worker and has health coverage and if he didn't there are certainly social agencies and healthcare providers who can...

GCPr: Aha! So you're saying 'are there no places for such unfortunates! Perhaps they should die and decrease the surplus population!

Sheldon: No I never said that at all, although as a debate it has 4 points of merit and 3 of demerit. To begin with the merits, I would state...

GCPr: [on cell phone] Yeah, tell Future to just fucking forget about it. Put this one in the loss column.... What do you mean Leibniz is suicidal? He's a ghost and Christmas cheer rolled into on... hmmm.... well who does he think would have won the game?
Old 12-09-2008, 02:15 AM
Isamu Isamu is offline
Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: Osaka
Posts: 5,204
It was somewhere around the end of the year, just before Christmas, when the drugs began to take hold. My attorney, degenerate that he is, had suggested that, in his considered legal opinion, we should both inhale a near lethal infusion of pure ether. And so it had gone, that cold winter evening, holed up in some european version of motel 6 on the ass end of the cold war. I don’t care how tough you think you are, when you’re on an ether binge, you’re gonna see some ghosts. Fucking mexican ghosts of christmas past, crawling up your leg with a knife between their teeth and cold hatred in their eyes. But that’s what being a journalist is all about. I knew we’d have to push through this if we were going to survive. I called the front desk for another case of grain vodka and the biggest stuffed turkey they had.
Old 12-09-2008, 02:18 AM
MindWanderer MindWanderer is offline
Join Date: Aug 2002
Location: Northern Michigan
Posts: 525

(Not leet speak, but numb3rs style, for those confused)

Charlie: Don, Amita set up a motivational analysis in the lab, I helped of course, but then Larry reminded me of Benford's Law, and I realized I had been going about it all the wrong way.

Don & Colby: What?

Charlie: Benford's Law. It's used all the time in the banking industry to root out corruption. I used it a couple years ago to help you on another case.

(Charlie goes to the whiteboard)

Don: Right, that was when all the lab thefts were occurring, and Larry was so disappointed

(Puts up a numerical distribution exhibiting the law)

Charlie: Benford's Law, also called the first-digit law, states that in lists of numbers from many real-life sources of data, the leading digit 1 occurs much more often than the others (i.e., about 30% of the time).

Don: Your point?

Charlie: We went after the wrong man, Bob Cratchit didn't steal anything, Mr. Scrooge has been cooking the books, and Benford's Law proves it. It works because most people, when they try to make something look random, can't do it. Ebeneazer Scrooge's books have a leading 1's digit only 10% of the time. And the 9 appears 10% of the time as well, more than twice as often as would be expected.

Don: Colby, we need to get Mr. Cratchit released.

Colby & Charlie: Where are you going?

Don: To have a talk with Mr. Scrooge.

Last edited by MindWanderer; 12-09-2008 at 02:20 AM. Reason: missed a part
Old 12-09-2008, 04:23 AM
Shirley Ujest Shirley Ujest is offline
Join Date: May 1999
Location: Somewhere in the Middle.
Posts: 21,387
I think this thread has the makings of a classic!

props to Isamu for Hunter S Thompson
Old 12-09-2008, 05:03 AM
panache45 panache45 is offline
Join Date: Oct 2000
Location: NE Ohio (the 'burbs)
Posts: 39,600
The Ballad of Ebenezer Scrooge
by Stephen Sondheim

Attend the tale of Ebenezer Scrooge.
His soul was small, his wealth was huge.
If truth be told, a wretched boor,
He swindled the rich and exploited the poor.
He counted his coins, both small and huge,
Did Ebenezer Scrooge,
The demon miser of Fleet Street.

He kept a shop in London town
But paid his workers with barely a crown.
One of them was Cratchit by name,
Whose youngest son was small and lame.
And what if one of them dared to complain
He’d throw the beggar out in the rain,
Yes, Ebenezer,
Ebenezer Scrooge,
The demon miser of Fleet Street.

Count your silver high, Ebenezer!
Count it to the skies!
Freely flows the gold from those who moralize.

His needs were few, his room was bare.
A chest of gold and a sturdy chair.
A sleeping gown and a flickering lamp,
A miserly spirit, cold and damp.
For boundless greed and avarice huge,
Ebenezer Scrooge,
The demon miser of Fleet Street.

And then one year on Christmas Eve,
An apparition did Scrooge perceive,
It was the ghost of Marley in fact,
Who warned Ebenezer to change his act.
His only hope, though he would fear it,
Was to be visited by three spirits.

The first of which left Scrooge aghast,
For it was the ghost of Christmas past.
It showed him a life from high above,
Devoid of friends, devoid of love.

The Second spirit was Christmas present,
Showed him a scene happy and pleasant.
The Cratchit family ‘round their table,
With Tiny Tim (who was disabled).

The ghost of Christmas yet to come
Shows poor Scrooge a future glum.
A life that’s wasted with no remorse,
Not even a grave for his rotting corpse.

Scrooge was richer, Scrooge was fatter,
Scrooge would blink, and beggars would scatter.
Scrooge was richer, Scrooge was fatter,
Scrooge would blink, and beggars would scatter.
Scrooge was richer, Scrooge was fatter,
Scrooge would blink, and beggars would scatter.
Scrooge was richer, Scrooge was fatter,
Scrooge would blink, and beggars would scatter.

Ebenezer! Ebenezer! Ebenezer! Ebenezer!

Attend the take of Ebenezer Scrooge!
His soul was small but his wealth was huge.
What happened then, well that’s the play,
and he wouldn’t want us to give it away . . .

Not Ebenezer,
Not Ebenezer Scrooge,
The demon miser of Fleet . . .

. . . Street.
Old 12-09-2008, 05:23 AM
panache45 panache45 is offline
Join Date: Oct 2000
Location: NE Ohio (the 'burbs)
Posts: 39,600
Originally Posted by Bryan Ekers View Post
A Christmas Carol, by Ayn Rand:

"Get the hell out of my way, spirits!"
Ebenezer Shrugged
by Ayn Rand

“Who is Jacob Marley?”
The light of London was ebbing, and Ebenezer Scrooge cold not distinguish the lame boy’s face.
“Why did you say that?” asked Scrooge, his voice tense.
The lame boy leaned against his weather-beaten crutch.
“Why does it bother you?” he asked.
“It doesn’t,” snapped Scrooge.

1165 pages later:

“The road is cleared,” said Scrooge. “I am going back to my shop and my fortune.”
He raised his hand, and over the desolate city of London he traced in space the sign of the dollar.
Old 12-09-2008, 06:07 AM
panache45 panache45 is offline
Join Date: Oct 2000
Location: NE Ohio (the 'burbs)
Posts: 39,600
Originally Posted by panache45 View Post
. . . he traced in space the sign of the dollar.
Damn, I should have made that the British Pound.
Old 12-09-2008, 09:13 AM
Annie-Xmas Annie-Xmas is offline
Charter Member
Join Date: Apr 2000
Location: New Jersey
Posts: 45,899
2 1/2 Christmas Carol Men

Alan: So, Charlie, aren't you coming to the family Christmas get together? Jake's getting ready?

Charlie: Does it look like I'm going to the family Chrsitmas get together? Those things always end up a disaster. I'd rather stay here with my two good friens Johnnie Walker and Jack Daniels.

Alan: You're leaving me to face them all by myself. Mom's invited Berta! And Judith! Charlie, I can't do it!

Charlie throws two ornaments at him: Here, use these Christmas balls.

Jake enters, Jake: Oh, I get it. You're telling Dad to grown a pair. Pretty good, Uncle Charlie.

Charlie: You guys leave for the festivities. I'm going to get some sleep.

Alan & Jake leave. Charlie falls asleep on the couch.

Enter Evelyn Harper

Charlie: MOM! You scared the crap out of me.

Evelyn: I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. I've come to show you why you hate Christmas.

Charlie: I know why I hate Christmas. You and your current lover would leave me and Alan alone in the house every freaking Christmas. We use to get drunk and set the tree on fire.

Evelyn: You know, I always wondered what happened to the ornaments. Every year I'd spend money on silver and gold and every year we couldn't find last year's ornaments.

Charlie: Oh, we took the ornaments off first. We use to sell them in the neighborhood.

Evelyn: I always left you plenty of food and presents. What did you need the money for?

Charlie: We never could open the lock on the liquor cabinet.

Evelyn leaves. Rose comes in.

Charlie: ROSE! You scared the crap out of me.

Rose: I am the Ghost of Christmas Present. I'm here to show you the wonderful time everyone else is having.

Rose shows a scene of Alan, Jake, Judith, her current young guy, and Berta sitting down to dinner.

Alan: Now, I'll carve the roast.

Evelyn: No, Alan, you let Mummy do it.

Alan: I'm the man here--

Judith: Yeah, right. (swigs some wine)

Alan: And it's my job to carve the holiday roast.

Evelyn: So how is your Christmas going, Jake?

Jake: Well, I've got a book report to do for school. But I've got plenty of time.

Judith: It's the book report that was due over Thanksgiving vacation.

Jake: Oh, yeah, right. But I've got plenty of time.

Berta: Who wants some more scotch?

Everyone: Here, here.

Berta: And I think this is a good way to spend a holiday. Well, it's better than being with family in the freezing cold trailer, fighting over tacos.

Alan is enthusiatically carving the roast. Suddenly it flies, breaking a window and making an escape.

Judith: What are the odds of that happening again

Evelyn, obviously drunk: What are the odds of that happening five years in a row? Alan, I told you to let me carve.

Alan: Oh, well. (swigs some booze).

Rose: Boy, I can see why you don't want to be there.

Enter Berta

Charlie: BERTA! You scared the crap out of me.

Berta: I am the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come.

Charlie: Well, Ghost, speaking of crap, clean the bathroom and get out.

Berta: I am here to show you your future.

Scene of Charlie, now considerably older, sitting on the couch with a bottle of booze, surrounded by the same Christmas decorations.

Charlie: So?

Berta: Okay, here's the reaction to your death.

Alan & Rose looking considerably older.

Alan: I can't believe he's finally gone. After five liver transplants.

Rose: Guy lived a lot longer than he should have.

Alan: And he left me his house.

Rose; Lucky you

Alan: Mortgaged to the hilt. I'll have to sell it for taxes

Rose: Too bad. Why couldn't Jake get to the funeral?

Alan: Rose! He's still on Death Row

Rose: Oh, yeah.

Enter Evelyn Harper, tastefully dressed in black, looking the same and with the same young guy she had at Christmas Present.

Evelyn: Well, I'm glad that's over. Me and Juan are spending the holidays in the Bahamas.

Alan: Where did you get the money?

Evelyn: Since Charlie never married, I was still the beneficiary on his life insurance. Thank Jake for killing his uncle for me--double indemnity.

Alan: Too bad Jake got caught with victim number six. If he had stopped at Charlie, he would have gotten away with it.

Evelyn: Gets away with the rest, and is caught violating the body of Berta.

Evelyn leaves.

Rose: What now?

Alan: Johnnie Walker and Jack Daniels.

Rose: I'm there with you.

Shot of Jake in prison cell: And God Bless Us Everyone!
Old 12-09-2008, 09:28 AM
DrFidelius DrFidelius is offline
Charter Member
Join Date: Mar 1999
Location: Miskatonic University
Posts: 12,096

I hope you don't mind, but I posted your Lovecraftian version on a message board I recently joined (with attribution, of course). We have a Lovecraft Humor thread going.
The opinions expressed here are my own, and do not represent any other persons, organizations, spirits, thinking machines, hive minds or other sentient beings on this world or any adjacent dimensions in the multiverse.
Old 12-09-2008, 11:18 AM
well he's back well he's back is offline
Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: Wisconsin
Posts: 3,490
some of these are, indeed, brilliant. just want to say thanks to all!
Old 12-09-2008, 02:36 PM
Sampiro Sampiro is offline
Join Date: Aug 2002
Posts: 36,258
A star wars christmas

The Ghost of Christmas Past (face of a schnauzer, body of an eel, three arms, vaguely Russian accent) is taking Obi-Ben Keneezer into his past.

"And there you are... you were a little boy. Your mother saved for two parsecs- DON'T EVEN GO THERE!- to buy you that light saber."

Ben: I don't recall ever having owned a light saber...

GCP: Don't start that again! You don't recall ever having owned a droid, ridden in a land speeder, being a Jedi apprentice, or going to Coruscant, just what in the name of the Seven Suns of Sigmius do you recall?

Ben: I don't recall telling you any of those things.

GCP: Well the point is this, me boogie-wu, you have lost the spirit of Christmas. See the boy over there? His poinsettian levels are off the charts, and yet yours barely register. We need to give you boosters.
Old 12-09-2008, 03:23 PM
Sampiro Sampiro is offline
Join Date: Aug 2002
Posts: 36,258
Gore Vidal's CHRISTMAS

The Ghost of Christmas Past [William F. Buckley bound in harpsichord wires] is showing Ebeneezer Luther Vidal Scrooge a Christmas from 1961.

GCP: I should suspect there should be fluency of the language psychic in the placement within your cognition of this particular event, this rapprochement between the state of your being now and the state in which you lived then. I daresay re-cognition should alert yourself to the significance and surroundings hereof and the festoonery beacon the keepers even in the emptiness of your harbor spiritual the season.

ELVS: Of course. Camp David, 1962. That's me over there by Caroline Yakovoevna Radzivilla, Princess of Olyka, better known to me and to roughly a division of former lovers and creditors as the former Carrie Lee Bouvier, late of the famous sisters act, Golddiggers of the Capitol. My God was I once that thin.

G: And why in a room whose further inhabitants include the most powerful man in the free world and as near, regretful as the judgment of history may be, to an Irish Catholic martyr as this nation, or at least this region of the nation, shall aspire, however lamentable his politik, do you palaver with the third and unacknowledged by the church Catholic and universal bride of a deposed minor nobleman?

E: Executive order one might say. Jack and I had a falling out around this time due to my advising him the Military Industrial Complex would never allow him to withdraw troops from any place where they deemed said troops should be and of course as the nation's new owners their request really should have been treated with more respect. The exponentiality of camp following sutlers wagons now through the magical kiss of Krupp and the bankers of whom the Prince Olyka, multimarried and tangential, was a representative, the chicken legs of bellicose finance propping the Baba Yaga of tangential aristocratic legitimacy. Ah, memories. Jackie was the most self absorbed of humans though I must give her that she was lovely, the David of ice sculpture, but she loved to play the intellectual and since I was so conveniently in the family in the broadest definition of that term and was restored to the bestseller lists of the Times if not their reviews- that would take years- and then be negative- of course their critics derive from the same ivyless walls I scorn twice before my morning ablutions and mostly from an ethnarchy that still presses claims to a 3,500 year old land grant I suppose grudges against me are not to be a source of surprise. They reviewed you nicely as memory serves, or perhaps I am thinking of the New Republic. Either way it must have consoled you greatly, some warmth in the iciness of a bed emptied by the interrment of dear Senator McCarthy...

GCP: Listen to the president...

[from Camp David- JFK is reading aloud Letters to Santa sent to him from the Post Office, various members of the family are crying with sentimentality, save for the guffaw coming from the Princess and her gay attendant and in-law in-law]

JFK: Ah, listen to this one then, 'Dear Santa, I know---' he spells that N O- 'I know that I shoont be selfish and ask for toys but I want a doll it not for me for my sick baby sister may be her last Chrizmas...'

Chorus of courtiers: Awwwwww.... let's send her the most expensive doll there is... five of them...

JFK: 'Ah, and anuthah... 'Dear Santa, I just woan my papa home from Vietnam doan know where that is can you bring him in your slay...' spelled in s-l-a-y!'"

Courtiers: Awwwww... any chance you can bring him home Jack?

JFK: 'Oh my God... listen to this one... 'Dear Santa... can you jus sho me how i can be better for my mom and the presdent'...'

Courtiers: Awwwwwwwww....
1962 ELVS: ...and said to him, Hughdie, if it smells like cod then we're tailor maid since you're shaped like a fish hook...
Courtiers: [stunned silence]

GCP: So the sentimentality of the moment was vaporized somewhat by the heat of your viciousness I presume...

ELV: Not at all. I've thought many times about those letters.

GCP: Really?

ELV: Indeed. I think of those letters and say to myself, or to whoever is near, which preferably is somebody with a camera and relatively large audience, 'How odd it is that most Americans would be hard pressed to write a coherent letter to Santa... an annotated shopping list would be the equal of graduate work for half of them... and yet Jack was assassinated, and Bobby was assassinated... no loss there really... Wallace, others... all assassinated by people who not only wrote coherently but... kept diaries! Presumably next to their chamberpots and whale oil lamps with other relics of Victoriana for certainly no other American of their station seems capable of daily records... and not only did they keep diaries, but the diaries are the same... 'Dear Diary, I am a psychotic loner who intends to kill herein named important personage and I am acting alone. There is no conspiracy, it's just insane little me. Odd that the deaths will benefit the Military Industrial Complex of course but seek not logic where the insane are concerned, and in case you haven't guessed it, I am insane. And alone.' How often I've wondered if Sirhan Sirhan and Oswald and Bremer and their brethren had the same handwriting as well. Ah, Christmas memories.

GCP: I cannot broker judgment betwixt the past and the present for which is the greater vulgary. I can only say both are... oh... meretricious...

ELV: Meretricious to you too, and a happy New Year. Now let's be gone as if I remember correctly this is when Capote arrived. There's a shade I need not see again, no doubt he's in Hell regaling Persphone even as we speak with tales of how he fellated Lee Harvey Oswald in the pool house at Camp David this very Christmas all while Hades looks on with annoyance and plans an assignation with whatever call girl is his current secret queen. And speaking of secret queens, you should be returning to your family as well...

Last edited by Sampiro; 12-09-2008 at 03:25 PM.
Old 12-09-2008, 04:40 PM
Sampiro Sampiro is offline
Join Date: Aug 2002
Posts: 36,258

Unfortunately I can't provide the pictures, but it begins with Little Susie's father recalling being a boy in Santa's lap and ends with Little Susie's father burning in Hell.

Last edited by Sampiro; 12-09-2008 at 04:41 PM.
Old 12-09-2008, 05:12 PM
CalMeacham CalMeacham is offline
Join Date: May 2000
Location: Massachusetts
Posts: 42,043
A Christmas Carol "Ghost" thread.

How appropriate.

Dr. Fidelius -- thanks for telling me. Let me know how it fares.


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