The Ghosts of Christmas Reunite

"In the name of Christmas, here we reunite, brothers, for our yearly rendezvous," said the Ghost of Christmas Present.

"Why, brother, you are all pomp and ceremony!" snickered the Ghost of Christmas Past.

"Why do you insist on calling each other 'brother'?" said the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. "I told you, that is inaccurate, on account of us having significantly different genetics, and in that we do not share the same chromosomes..."

"Oh, be quiet, Yeti," said the Ghost of Christmas Past. "Don't you study the bible? Geez. It says our terminology is not only accurate, but required. The bible is a better authority than you. So ha."

"Don't call me Yeti, Pastry," said the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. "And don't scoff at me. I am of the future; consequently I am superior, as I have learned from the mistakes of the past, and therefore am a better person than you. Although, hypothetically speaking –"

"I AM NOT A PASTRY!" bellowed the Ghost of Christmas Past.

"Enough! Silence!" ordered the Ghost of Christmas Present. "We are here to select a representative of our efforts. A person who has benefited the most from our care and guidance. Any nominations?"

"Well, duh," said the Ghost of Christmas Past. "Scrooge."

"Ebenezer Scrooge?" said the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come thoughtfully. "Well, theoretically, materially speaking, he has not gained anything from our guidance. In fact, he has lost money, by giving his clerk that turkey and all."

"Brother," said the Ghost of Christmas Present, exasperated. "I thought I told you not to be mercenary."

"I am not being mercenary," said the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come indignantly. "I am merely stating the facts."

"We have come to a decision," said the Ghost of Christmas Present, glaring at his brother. "Ebenezer Scrooge. He has shown the most improvement from our careful guidance."

"Well, that's pathetic," said the Ghost of Christmas Past under his breath.

"And now we must decide how to publicize our efforts," said the Ghost of Christmas Present, ignoring his brother.

"Oh come on, it's obvious," said the Ghost of Christmas Past. "Use that Dickens fellow."

"Charles Dickens, renowned author with amazing compositional capabilities?" asked the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

"Duh," confirmed his brother.

"So we will have to either a) confront him with our proposal, b) manipulate his subconscious mind into writing our story, or c) write the thing ourselves and forge our name onto it," said the Ghost of Christmas Present.

"Option a) is out," said the Ghost of Christmas Past. "He'd freak out if he saw us."

"And I would also abandon option c)," said the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. "Too much risk involved. I don't know about you, but spending my entire holidays dodging lawsuits just doesn't suit my fancy."

"Well, that was a pathetic attempt at sarcasm," said his brother. "You're a ghost, for Christ's sake. No one can see you."

Before the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come can open his mouth to argue, their elder brother intercepted.

"Don't argue," he said sternly. "In confirmation, we will go with option b) as that is the most reasonable and efficient way of going about it."

"Sure, bro," said the Ghost of Christmas Past.

And thus they parted on such terms, flying out into the cold night, to their respective homes.