Chapter 8: The Doom to Face
"Great Atmos, what is this?"
Scrooge the Ace and the Ghost of Christmas Doom—
"Ahem."
—and Arygyn the Nutcracker were in a dark room, a bed chamber on a Cyclonian Destroyer. And there, lying in the bed, was something covered up by a mere white sheet.
"Huh," the Nutcracker said. "Cool. A dead man."
Scrooge looked around. Yes, the thing under the sheet was a dead man . . . and no one was here to mourn. "Spirit," he asked, his voice shaking, "is this the man those people spoke of, the ones they stole from?
The Ghost of Christmas Doom nodded.
The Ace frowned deeply. "Phantom," he said, "if there's anyone who feels anything for the man's death, show me now."
Darkness over came them all. Scrooge blinked his eyes as he found himself in another home. A woman named Caroline is waiting by the door. "Hey, I know her!" Scrooge exclaimed. "She's the Sky Knight of the Screaming Queens!"
Yes, but here, she's just Caroline.
"Gosh, those Screaming Queens sure no how to dress!" Arygyn the Nutcracker said. Scrooge the Ace gave him a weird look, and the Phantom swung his head toward him as if in disgust. I thought that was a bit weird myself.
At that moment, Caroline's husband, Burner, walked in.
"Well, he gets his name!"
Yes, well, you see, Charles Dickens didn't give Caroline's husband a name.
This poor family, you see, was in debt to a very rich man. Burner came in, looking like he was ashamed of some joy he had.
Caroline ran to him. "What's the news, Burner?"
Burner looked grim. "Bad," he answered.
"Are we done for?" Caroline asked for concern. "Oh, dear, there's always hope! What if he relents?"
"He's past relenting," Burner said. "He's dead."
Caroline blinked. "Dead? That means . . . that means . . ."
Burner smiled. "We are not done for! We may yet pay off our debt if we get a charitable creditor. We can sleep easier tonight, Caroline."
Scrooge the Ace felt an ache in his heart. He had asked the Ghost for some emotion for this man's death, and all the Phantom could show him was pleasure. "Please, Spirit," he begged. "Show me some sorrow caused by this man's passing!"
The scene changed once more. Scrooge then found himself in the Cratchits' house. The family was all sitting around the fireplace except for Aerrow and Tiny Radarr. The house was quiet, far too quiet.
Starling stood up. "Oh, where is your father? He should be home by now."
"He's been walking slow recently," Master Pydge said.
There was a long pause. Then Starling said, "I've known him to walk very fast with . . . with Tiny Radarr on his shoulder. Very fast, indeed."
"So have I," said Owsley, sniffling.
"But he was very light," Starling added. "Very light indeed."
At last, the door opened. Aerrow stepped in and put his coat, greeting them all quietly.
At first, everything seemed normal . . . just quieter. They were eating dinner when Starling asked, "So . . . you're going down on a Sunday."
Aerrow hesitated before he said, "Yes, I promised it to be a Sunday." Tears began to fall from his eyes. "Oh, Radarr."
He glanced up at the others, his eyes glistening. Sniffling, he wiped his nose. "I saw Finn today," he said. "He was so kind, telling us how sorry he was for us and how he could come to our aid if we ever need it."
"I know he's a good soul," Starling said with a smile, "although a little on the wild side sometimes."
"Yes, he . . . he offered to put Pydge in a better situation."
Pydge smiled at this.
Aerrow stared down at the table, although he was not seeing it. "We'll never forget our Tiny Radarr."
Scrooge the Ace was confused by all of this. "Specter," he said to the Ghost, "this tells me of another's death. Tell me, who was the man we saw lying there in the bed chamber."
Suddenly they were on the streets again. The Specter pointed. "Hey, look, Acey," the Nutcracker exclaimed, "it's your shop!"
And indeed it was. But the furniture was all out of order. Scrooge was even more scared and more confused.
Suddenly they were before an iron gate. The Phantom raised its green, clammy hand, and the gate clanked open. Scrooge the Ace—
"You keep forgetting me!"
—and Arygyn the Nutcracker followed the Specter into a churchyard. Here the lowly man that many had spoke of so horribly lay buried under the ground. It was a worthy place for such a man. It was surrounded by houses and overrun with grasses and weeds that choked each other out, feeding on the nutrients of the dead.
"That sounds kind of creepy, narrator. I thought this was supposed to be a Christmas story."
If you don't like it, Arygyn, get out of the story and give me a break, for heaven's sake!
"No, I think I'll stick around."
I was afraid you'd say that.
The Phantom stopped and pointed to one grave in particular.
Scrooge was trembling now. "Spirit," he said, "before I approach that grave, tell me this: Are these the shadows of things that will be or only of things that may be?"
The Specter did not answer. It only continued to point to the grave.
"Please, Spirit," Scrooge begged, "tell me."
But the Phantom remained silent.
The Ace drew toward the grave and peered down into its dark depths. He tried to read the name on the stone, but it was covered in snow. "Spirit," he asked, "whose lonely grave is this?"
Wait a minute. Why is the Phantom taking off his hood?
The Ghost of Christmas Doom pulled off his hood to reveal his green, clammy-skinned face. "It's your doom, Dark Ace!"
Scrooge blinked in surprise. "Wait a minute," he said. "I was trembling in fear before the Storm Hawks' Merb pilot?"
Stork, put your hood back on! And stop talking!
"You stop talking!" the Ghost shouted back. "You're the one with the big booming voice explain every little thing that's going on."
"That's what I said," the Ace grumbled.
Then Scrooge's face paled. "Wait," he said, "so I was the man who lay upon the bed?"
"Yup," Stork said.
"This grave is mine?"
Stork pulled out a wrench and clanked it against the stone. The snow fell off the stone to reveal the name Scrooge the Ace.
"No!" Scrooge cried in agony. "Merb, tell me I can change the writing on this stone!"
The Ghost folded his arms. "Maybe you can and maybe you can't."
"I'm not the same man I used to be!" the Ace cried desperately. "I will keep Christmas in my heart always! I will be considerate and kind to others! I will take care of my fellow man!"
"I'd like to see that happen," the Specter grumbled.
"Please!" Scrooge cried.
"Well," the Ghost said, stopping to think, "maybe." He stepped toward Scrooge the Ace, who now looked terrified. "Then again," the Specter said, "maybe not!" And with that, he kicked Scrooge square in the chest so he fell into the grave.
Scrooge stared up at the Phantom as he fell, screaming at the top of his lungs. The images around him began to blur. He heard the Nutcracker's voice call down to him, "Might as well give it a go, Acey!"
The Phantom sank away in his vision and dwindled into a bedpost. Instead of landing on a wooden coffin, Scrooge bounced on top of his own bed safe within the Cyclonian Destroyer.
Author's Notes: Yup, ya'll had it right. The Ghost of Christmas Doom was Stork!
Think the Ace learned his lesson yet?
