"So, what do you think of Christmas now, Mr. Lump of Coal?" asked the Ghost of Christmas Present as the bed rode through town.

"Spirit, I'll admit," said Scrooge. "You've certainly proven that it's anything but a humbug."

Upon hearing himself say that, he added. "I still can't believe Marley used to say that too."

As the bed turned a corner, while he was still hanging to his pillar, Sherman took a sniff.

Sherman: Mmm. What's cooking, Mr. Peabody?

Mr. Peabody: Oh, nothing much. Just your ordinary roasted goose with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, dinner rolls, and for dessert...figgy pudding.

"Well, paint my beard white and call me Santa Claus!" exclaimed the Ghost of Christmas Present as he took the same sniff. "We're just in time for dinner with the Cratchits!"

"Wait, we're having dinner with them?" asked Scrooge once the bed screeched to a halt.

"No, we're here to watch them." said the Ghost of Christmas Past. "The Cratchit Show was filmed in front of a live ghostly audience."

Scrooge, then, found himself sitting in the stands with the ghost audience that were back inside his room.

Inside the Cratchit house, Bob's wife, Emily was setting up the table with daughters Martha & Belinda and the old woman Bob and Tiny Tim brought home.

"It's nice to have an extra hand help with dinner." said Emily.

"Well, if it wasn't for your kind husband and son," said the old woman. "I'd be freezing to death out there."

Outside, the ghost audience laughed while Scrooge looked at the Ghost of Christmas Present, who only shrugged.

"Speaking of Bob and Tiny Tim," said Emily. "I wonder what's taking them so lo...

"Peter, what did I tell you about tasting the food before anyone else?" she asked her son, who was near the stove with a spoon on his hand.

"Well, can I help it if I take one little taste out of the potatoes?" asked Peter.

"One little taste or not," said Emily. "You'll have to wait until everyone's at the table."

"Your mother's right, young man." agreed the old woman. "Now come over here and help us set the table."

"Yes ma'am." said Peter.

"Oh, never mind that, dear." said the old woman. "Just call me Auntie Belle."

Realization came to Scrooge when he heard that name.

"That's her, Spirit!" he said. "She was my girlfriend back when I use to work at Fezziwig's!"

"Spoiler!" one of the ghosts cried out, throwing a snowball at his face.

As Scrooge brushed the snow off, the ghost audience started to cheer.

He turned to see Bob holding Tiny Tim as they both entered the house.

"He sure knows how to make a grand entrance, doesn't he?" asked the Ghost of Christmas Present.

"How's dinner coming along?" asked Bob.

"We were just about to put it on the table, Father." replied Martha as she and Belinda placed the food in different bowls.

"Your girls have been a huge help preparing dinner." said Belle.

"And so has she." added Emily, who gave a welcome-home kiss to her husband, who placed Tiny Tim down, saying. "All right, Timmy. Go warm yourself by the fire for a bit."

Outside the house, as the ghost audience went "Aww," Scrooge watched as Tiny Tim hobbled to the fireplace, holding a crutch in one hand.

"He was right." he told the Ghost of Christmas Present. "The boy was born sick and weak."

"Was he well-behaved in church?" asked Emily.

"As good as good...and better." replied Bob as he hugged his wife, who said. "Well, thanks to that raise, Tim will be more than better."

The moment he heard that word, Bob couldn't bear to tell Emily.

"Uh, yeah, about that...he...he..."

"He didn't give you that raise, did he?" guessed Emily.

"Well..." Bob said with a shrug.

"Well...well, that's just selfish!"

Scrooge felt ashamed of himself as he heard Bob say. "Well, to him, Christmas is very stressful around this time of year."

"That's no excuse, Bob." said Emily. "Doesn't he know we need that money for Tim's operation?"

"Calm down, dear." assured Belle.

But Emily kept on ranting about Scrooge. "I swear, if that were me, I'd march right back there and demand for a raise. And you know I would."

"Don't be so hard on Mr. Scrooge, Emily." pleaded Bob. "After all, he is the founder of our feast."

"Hmm. Founder of the feast, indeed." said Emily. "Why, if he was here, I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon. And I hope he has a good appetite for it."

"Oooooh!" exclaimed the ghost audience as Scrooge gulped worriedly.

"Speaking of feasts," Belle said. "Come take your seats, kiddies! Dinner is served!"

As Martha, Peter, and Belinda hurried to the table, Bob stared at Emily, who sighed reluctantly. "All right. We'll drink to his health...for yours and the day's sake, not for his."

Outside, as he watched Bob walk over to Tiny Tim, whom he picked up, Scrooge asked the Ghost of Christmas Present. "Answer me this, Spirit. Will Tiny Tim be able to live another day?"

"Oh, I'm not afraid that's not my department, Scrooge" he answered. "But I do see a vacant seat by the chimney corner and a carefully preserved crutch without a owner. If these shadows remain unchanged, the little guy won't live to see another Christmas."

As he followed the Ghost of Christmas Present back to his bed, Scrooge took one last look at the Cratchit family and Belle sitting down at the table.

"And if he dies," he said to himself, recalling his own words. "He'll decrease the surplus population."

Once he was on top of his bed again, it started to move away from the Cratchits' house.

Mr. Peabody: By the time the sun set, after a wordless ride, the bed stopped at a house that was aglow with lights.

"Where are we now?" asked Scrooge.

"Well, since you haven't been to your nephew Fred's house," said the Ghost of Christmas Present. "I'd figured I take you there myself."

Scrooge hopped off the bed and walked towards the window, where he heard a voice ask. "He actually said that, that Christmas was a humbug?"

"One hundred percent." replied Fred. "And he believes it."

"I think I'm starting to lose my patience with him, Fred." said his wife.

"Well, I haven't lost mine yet, Claire." said Fred. "I mean, who suffers by his ill whims? Only himself. Here, he decides to hate us and not dine with us and what's he got to lose? A good old-fashioned Christmas dinner."

As he heard that and his guests agreeing with Fred, Scrooge felt guilty about having to miss dinner with his nephew, who went on to say. "But aside from that, he sure did give us plenty of merriment. And I think it would be ungrateful for all of us to not drink to his health. He won't take it from me, but..."

Fred raised his glass, calling out. "A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to Uncle Scrooge!"

"To Uncle Scrooge!" his guests called back, holding up their glasses.

Having heard and seen enough, Scrooge sadly walked away from the window to the Ghost of Christmas Present, saying. "He was right, Spirit. Ever since Fan died, I'm the only relative Fred has left. But I haven't been treating him like family as I should have."

As a tear trickled down Scrooge's cheek, the Ghost of Christmas Present placed a hand on his shoulder, saying. "It's not too late to make things right."

Before Scrooge could say anything, the clock bell sounded.

It was already midnight.

"Mr. Peabody, are ghosts' lives short?" asked Sherman, just before Scrooge's bed disappeared, leaving him and Mr. Peabody in the snow.

"Very." said the dog.

Mr. Peabody: Seeing that the last spirit is due to arrive at any moment, dear readers, this is where we must leave you for the time being.

Sherman: Yeah. We'll catch up with you when it's over. See ya!

While Mr. Peabody and Sherman took their leave, Scrooge covered his ears as the clock kept ringing loudly.

Then...all was silent.

Scrooge looked around, and not only was his bed gone, but so was the Ghost of Christmas Present.