Eb Stone-Egorosc was having a shitty life day, as unusual.

Sandus from purchasing was off sick, and with so many staff taking annual leave over the life-day period that left no-one to close their deal on synthetic lactose derivatives. Purchasing needed to buy up enough lactose to cause a shortage eight-to-twelve months down the line: with time off from work, nothing else to do and a holiday that celebrated new life, conception rates spiked around life-day, and he wanted to be in a position to control the sectors baby-milk industry in time for the boom. He'd already bought up sufficient storage space to store the damn milk powder, and now the man whose job it was to make routine purchases like this was off sick. Eb made a mental note to fire him: what was the point of causing artificial shortages in baby food at the same time as a baby boom, if you weren't in a position to profit from it?

Some of the workers were sending the usual pious or charitable pers-com around the company coms-net. He'd have to get internal auditing and HR to estimate the time he was losing to personal communications. He wasn't sure which angered him more, the pious, clearly deranged, or the secular but charitable, possibly worse, in that they saw clearly in some manner, but still were corrupted by this taint of altruism.

They at least had some reason to be messaging him, he supposed, sourly. They worked for him after all, if they worked. Some cretins had actually sent him a com asking that he make a personal donation to those on the station without means of supporting themselves. He'd replied I presume they have legs. Given such a means of support, I suggest they use them and remove themselves from my station. The AWP have a collection point on deck E, next to effluent repurposing. I know: my tax Units paid for it. Whoever had sent the spam hadn't replied. Good: I've had enough of my time wasted by idiots today. He looked over the figures for KreikDeClerk confections: maker of fine life-day spice-pies. The company would have closed earlier that week, for the two-week paid holiday they gave staff around life day. That brought a smile to his lips: the loss of productivity would make it so much easier to slip an ambitious poison pill onto their board. It would make his hostile takeover easier, and then he could begin asset-striping.

He checked his stock options, before remembering the price would be the same as this morning: the exchange closed early Life day eve, and wouldn't re-open until the day after. He pinched his thin knife of an upper nose in frustration. He was pretty sure it was shit like this that had driven his partner Brig-Kayar to his aneurism. He paused, reflectively. That was seven years ago today, he realised.

He needed food. He needed caffeine. He'd been working for near to 30 hours, not unusual for him. He needed to check his stock options. He needed his workers to do a full day tomorrow, but found himself obliged by tiresome labour laws to give them the day off. He needed to have words with the house-keeper, who once again had left a glass of wine and a Votive spice-pie in the lararium in defiance of his wishes. He needed people to just forget about life day, and get back to work.

In the end, he decided he needed sleep more.

He was sure going to be disappointed.

Eb woke suddenly, afraid and reaching for his forehead, although he couldn't have said why. He got up, and poured himself a glass of water from his bedside table. A bad dream. Nothing more. As he turned towards bed he became aware of a noise behind him.

He turned to look. The noise seemed to be coming from the corner of the room where the stairs came up from the floor below. The servants entrance, the room that lead to his adjoining office suite, those he could have expected noise from… but the formal entrance to his quarters… no one had used them since the day his partner Brig-Kayar died. The lights on the intercom and the outer net station went crazy, his security screen showed hostiles in all rooms, and no-where, and died, the last synthesised chime hanging heavy on the cold winters air: Eb liked the cold; cold was cheap.

He heard footsteps on the stairs. Slow, dragging steps.

A figure appeared, stooped and bent low, bound in chains, head bandaged, hobbling up the steps . A figure Eb Stone-Egorosc recognised.

His business partner, Brig-Kayar, shuffling and moaning like a bad special effect.

Eb felt that he ought to say something at this juncture.

"So. How's being dead working out for you?" He then frowned as a far more important question came to mind "You don't want your money back, do you? That will was fair and legal."

"Seriously?" asked Brig-Kayar. His voice sounded a little off to Eb, but he supposed being dead would do that to you. "Your long dead business partner comes back to haunt you on life day eve, and that's your response?"

"Well, I was going to ask you for the money I spent getting power of probate back, but I guess you don't exactly have any cash on you." Said Eb, dryly. He paused. "Other than those two pennies we put over your eyes. "he conceded, grudgingly.

Brig stared, stupefied. "Well, that's a good sign. Two seconds in and we're off script. Aren't you even a little frightened?"

"Why should I be? I was never frightened of you in life." He went and poured himself another glass of water. "Drink? I'm sorry to say I got rid of the decanter you kept in your office the day of your funeral. It didn't give the right impression in a modern workplace. But the water's de-chlorinated."

"I'll pass. Not even a little frightened?"

Eb shrugged.

On the very edge of hearing, he though he heard a voice yell "I told you we should have made him look all corpsey and stuff! Or at least let Gamora do it, she's firckin' green to start with!"

"Shudup." Hissed the ghost of Brig-Kayar under his breath, before rallying and pressing on.

"I come from beyond the grave, to bring you a terrible, terrible warning of what awaits you in the life beyond. A message of-"

"Why are you wearing rocket-boosters on your boots?" asked Eb, suddenly noticing them. Brig-Kayar froze up.

"To… to escape the … the horrors I face in the afterlife that my greed has spawned."

"Really? Like what?"

"Let's just say if you're stuck in an afterlife with all the bad guys history ever knew dropping the soap is the least of your worries. Look, getting back to the point: I'm suffering in a horrible, horrible afterlife, because of all the awful greedy dickish things I did in life, okay? This chain I wear, each link was forged with a selfish and money grabbing act, and I can scarcely bear the weight, but it pales in comparison to the chain you are forging in life with your acts of-"

"It doesn't look that heavy." Said Eb. "In fact, it looks like it's a paper chain made from old filmys." Brig frowned.

"I'm a ghost, okay? Drift through walls, maybe throw a plate or two with poltergeist activity: not exactly strong. Besides, they feel heavier than they are, okay?"

Eb stared "Are those… old arrest warrants?"

Brig paused a second, then nodded. "For all my misdeeds in life." Eb squinted and read one.

"You bit a prison officer during an escape? In the knee?"

"He deserved it!" yelled the distant voice again.

"Also misdeeds in the afterlife." Said Brig, hurriedly. "Look, Eb, point is, you have to change your ways, give people a break and show some genuine Life-day charity, okay? Otherwise you're really in the deep crap once you die? Got it? So to spare you the horrors I face, you will be visited by three Ghosts-"

"Why? Can't you just do it?"

"Look its three, okay? That just how it works."

Eb frowned. "That seems inefficient . Could your afterlife HR run a manpower assessment for this? I'd be interested in seeing the figures."

"Look you mean old bastard, it's three, not counting me. I'm on day-release from maximum security undead nastiness because as your old friend they think you might take it more seriously if it came from me. These three are sort of specialists in reforming guys like you. Like us. Whatever. Just do what they say and everything will be fine if not." Brig raised his hands above his head and made a childish "Awooooooooo!" noise as he begun retreating backwards out of the room.

"Expect the first Ghost when the clock strikes one!"

Eb frowned. "Why the hell would my clock strike one? I don't want to be woken every hour of the night. My clock's silent: you should know, you brought it for me."

"I was speaking poetically. Expect the first ghost at 0100 standard."

Eb checked his clock. It was 1143. "So I'm just supposed to wait around for over an hour? Has anyone considered a time and motion study for you ghosts?"

"Look, just… just go back to sleep or something." Said Brig, pinching the bridge of his nose and fiddling nervously with what looked like some sort of primitive personal stereo. "You're a real dick to deal with, you know that? You could at least take this whole visitation seriously."

Eb snorted. "Yeah, because I've been visited by my long dead business partner. I'll just drift off again in no time. He said, grabbing a info glass and booting it up. The ghost of Brig-Kayar stared, aghast.

"Are you actually using this opportunity to catch up on some reading?" Eb looked over his half-moon glasses at the ghost and shrugged.

"Right. fine. Well then. Let's hurry this along then, shall we?" said the Ghost, now clearly pissed off, as he strode back down the stairs. Eb watched with mild interest, before returning to his glass. He found some new Life Day literature in the out of copyright section, and begun to scroll though the plot synopsizes looking for something diverting. As he did so, he became aware of voices arguing quietly.

"Okay this old bastard is a harder nut to crack than we thought. You got the memories lined up?"

"Sure, but I've not had a chance to go through them in depth yet. Could find any frickin' thing in there that we're not prepared for."

"Well, too late for that now. Wing it. And for god's sakes, keep the hat on. And the rest of your costume."

"Yeah, not gonna happen buddy. You wanna dress someone up in a doily why don't you try Drax? There is no way I'm putting that on, and you can't make me bub."

"… Ghost of life day Present, ghost of life day yet to Pass, I think the ghost of life day Past needs some help into his costume… Grab him!"

Eb looked up from the novella he'd found as the sounds of scuffling ebbed and flowed. At one point there was a distinctly animal yelp, and a plate rolled out from the servants quarters and skidded across the floor. After a few moments of swearing that would have blistered the paint on the walls, if Eb had permitted any, the next ghost appeared from behind the door of the servants quarters, staggering slightly, as if he'd been shoved.

Eb was reminded of the disgustingly cute life-day cards his maiden aunts used to send, including a practically awful one he'd got when he was six featuring a kitten that some probable sociopath had forced in to a Xandarian baptismal gown.

That ghost was quite a lot like that, except in this case the kitten would probably be the mangy one no-one wanted at the sanctuary that they'd have to quietly drown in a bucket to stop it fighting with the others. It's clothing looked like someone had tried to replicate an antique nightgown and pointed nightcap, but possibly someone with no talent at sewing, who had only ever had a nightgown roughly described to them, and then had had to force it over a very unwilling individual who'd done their best to shred the lace with his claws. The ghost itself, insofar as you could see it through it's horrible costume, appeared to be about three foot of fur and barely controlled rage.

The ghost stopped suddenly, aware that he could see it. The ghost then pulled itself up to its full height, at least a third of which was nightcap, puffed out it's pigeon chest as if trying to martial whatever dignity it had left, and declared with all the ringing conviction of a first-grade school play.

"Behold. I am the ghost of Life-day past. I am here for your improvement."

"I don't need improvement." Said Eb.

"Your frickin' salvation then pal. Without these visitations you cannot hope to escape the fate of-" the ghost stopped, and sniffed the air. "You got wine and spice pies? Why didn't anyone tell me?" declared the ghost, before moving over to the lararium and starting to eat with such speed, the word 'Engulf' was more suitable. Eb frowned.

"That's a Votive offering you idiot! It's for the Lares Familiares!"

"It's for Larry's families? Who's Larry? A bigamist?" Said the ghost, taking the solid silver tray the votives were on and secreting it under its robe with no sign of guilt.

"The Lares Familiares! It's an offering to household spirits for good fortune and aid over life day- Oh."

The Ghost grinned. "Yep. Household spirits. That's me allright. Speaking of spirits, you got anything stronger?" He said, tilting the wine glass towards him. Eb shook his head. The Ghost of Life day Past shrugged and downed the wine in one. "Pity, you get bonus salvation points if you have any whiskey. Votive offering, Huh? Didn't have you down for the hokey mumbo-jumbo type."

"You're a ghost."

"And you're an ass. But fair point." Said the ghost, cleaning crumbs out of its whiskers delicately with its clever little paws. "Okay; Ghost of Life day Past. I do exactly what the name suggests. We're gonna go look at all the life day's you've lived before, and the important lessons you could learn from your past self, before you became bitter and jaded and kind of a dick."

Eb frowned. "That seems like a weird way of doing things."

"Tell me about it: I was holding out for Ghost of life day yet-to-come, but apparently you need to be tall for that. Fucking prejudice everywhere." The Ghost waddled up to Eb. "take my hand." Eb stared. The Hand was tiny, and surmounted by five viscous little claws, none of which was too clean. He grabbed the alcohol hand sanitizer gel form his bedside table and gave his hands a good coating before he took the ghosts hands. They were surprisingly warm, and very slightly sticky.

The ghost looked from Eb's face, to the hand sanitizer, then back to Eb again.

"Well screw you!" said the ghost, before the walls of the room faded in a very cheap looking dissolve effect, and Eb found himself in his old schoolyard, on a cold winter's day.

"My old schoolyard." Said Eb, to the annoyance of the ghost, who as pretty sure that was his line. "There's Jamal, and Sinead, and Krull and the foreign exchange student the Dread Kutthuthn. All my old playmates. Hey, fatty Jamal! Who's small now! Give me all your lunch money or I'll wedgie you into next week!"

"Yeah, nice try Bub, but these are but shades of what was once was, they can neither see not hear nor touch us in any wa-" a kicked ball hit the ghost of life day past square in the nose, and knocked him clean over. "Little shits." He muttered, picking himself up off the floor. Eb had already wandered off, and was making rude faces at one of his old teachers. "Last time I trust Quill to program the safety cut offs of a dream machine." Muttered the ghost.

He followed Eb Inside. Eb saw a figure siting alone, and stopped and stared. "Maybe this is where it all started. The lone student, sitting by himself. I never really had any friends, and my father worked off world so I boarded in the school, even on life day. I mean, who could want normal friends when I had all the great philosophers and thinkers of the world, just a click away on my glass?" Eb rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. "Maybe it was the memory of all these awful, lonely Life-days that put me off it for life."

The Ghost of life day past looked from past Eb alone, with nought but a info-glass for a friend, to present Eb, without even that, and said these heart-warming words:

"You're fucking kidding me right? oh no my dad's not here for life day my life sucks so hard? That's it? You're playing Spice-pie splat on an info glass, and there's a life-day meal cooking in the next room and a bunch of other kids staying at school over life day, we literally just saw them in the playground, and you're complaining that your life-days sucked? Man the fuck up you cantankerous old bastard."

"Hey, the fact my parents were never there on life day really hurt me emotionally, and less of the old, I'm fifty-one"

"Well excuuuuse me princess spoiled brat. You wanna know what my life days were like as a kid, huh? Two weeks in the cold and the dark with literally no-one about because they closed the lab and all the researches went home for the holidays. Two weeks in a Perspex box just a little bigger than my own body, hoping like hell the food pellet dispenser didn't break down and wondering if the janitor I'd see that week would be the one who moped the room and then left without even looking at me, or the one who thought it was funny to poke me with his mop through the bars. Two goddam weeks, and when they was over, it was back to life as usual and all the electrodes to the brain that entailed. You're actually fucking playing a computer game on your info slate, for fuck's sakes." Said the ghost, bristling with rage. "Next vision!" he snarled, holding out his hand.

Eb frowned. "But in just a second my sister is going to come in and tell me that dad's come home, and doesn't blame me at all for mom's divorce, and that he wanted me back. It was one of the happiest moments of my childhood. It really made me believe in life-day for the first time in my life."

"Well ain't that nice. Next vision!" yelled the ghost, grabbing Eb with one paw and using the other to flip the bird at Eb's younger self.

The room faded in the same cheap dissolve, and Eb found himself at the Life-Day party from his first job: old Perryfluff's venture capitalism and tax planning annual party.

The ghost of life-day past stared. "Holy crap! Why are there so many strippers?" Eb shrugged. "It was the 3380's. you should see the amount of 'slaught me and Brig-Kayah were doing. Hey, look, there's old Perryfluff himself: now he knew how to put on a life-day party!"

"Which one is he?" shouted the Ghost. The music was so loud he could feel it shaking his implants.

"The one doing a line off a stripper's breast."

"So again, which one is he?"

Eb pointed, "top left."

Perryfuzz looked like nothing quite so much as an extremely happy beached whale, as he bounced a stripper off one knee sending interesting tidal waves though his flab. A harried looking young man in a suit came up to him with a data-slate and asked "-excuse me mister Perryfuzz, me and mr Brig-Kayah have been going over the annual figures, are you sure we can afford this party?"

"Ah, Come on Eb. It's life day. A time for celebration! Enjoy yourself. Have some wine, have some blow, go dance with that nice girl from legal you've had your eye on. Enjoy yourself my boy! Go with the flow, Eb." said Perryfuzz, before roaring with laughter at his own joke. The ghost and Eb looked, although the ghost kept trying to snatch drinks from memories only to find his hand going through the glass.

"Oh come on, but a football hits me? How does that work? Anyway. Here's a younger you enjoying life day. A good guy to work for?" Eb shrugged.

"I loved it at the time, less so when the government found that he'd spent all the money they gave him to develop a stainless steel time-traveling car and spent it all on blow and he got arrested. Me and Brig-Kayah bought up what was left of the company after that. There's us there, always working."

"U-huh? Said the ghost, disinterestedly, until he overheard what Brig-Kayah and younger Eb were saying "-So should we give them the cash or not, their figures look sound, but Keystone is an high-risk area to invest in." At mention of the word Keystone, the ghost froze up. Younger Eb looked at the figures, and then shrugged. "Flip you for it." He said, pulling out a coin. They flipped, the coin bounced off a strippers ass and then landed on the floor, spinning, Young Eb, Brig-Kayah and the ghost all craned over to see it.

"Heads. Fund them. Biotech is a grown industry, and anyone crazy enough to operate out of Halfworld is up for government grants from the regional development agency." Said Young Eb, putting down the slate. The Ghost rushed over to it to confirm exactly what it was they had just funded.

Older Eb was watching the party. Across the room, a young woman moved shyly though the madness. "Ah Belle. You know Ghost, I nearly married that woman. Seeing here again, I sometimes think that there is more to life than Units after all-"

The ghost of Christmas Past then ran across the room and tackled Eb and tried to throttle him.

"Bastard bastard bastard bastard! You venture capitalists and bankers are all the same, you think you can just throw money around and it don't fuckin' matter? Eh? I'm gonna skin you, you hateful cun- Hey!" Yelled the Ghost of Life day past, as Brig-Kayah's ghost grabbed him from behind and pulled him off, struggling.

"What was that about?" yelled Eb. "

"You funded them, you damn well paid for them to build that lab! I ought to strap you to a table and show you exactly what they did there you little-"

"Not cool Rocke… ghost of life day past!" yelled the ghost of Brig-Kayah. "We're here to save him, remember?"

"He ain't worth saving!" yelled Past.

Eb leapt up, furious. "You attacked m me over some crappy little mon-and-pop biotech firm I gave start up cash to three decades ago? I thought you were supposed to be here to help me."

"Fuck you!" snarled the ghost of life day past, ripping off its gown to reveal an armoured orange bodyglove, and stalking off. The Ghost of Brig-Kayah buried his face in his palms for a moment before looking up, and with a fixed, waxy smile declaring: "Next Ghost. Bear with me just one sec." he said, before sprinting after the Previous Ghost.

"Ghost of life day present, stat. Get into the robes, Now! And for Christ's sake leave the head-dress of vines alone. No Drax I don't care how much it inches!- what do you mean you think it's poison vergiatium? Give it here-"

Eb sat down gloomily on his bed, which had re-appeared, and read some more on his info-glass.

After a few minuets, the Ghost of Brig-Kayah re-appeared, and shepherded him into his own office. "Hurry hurry hurry, no time like the present, if you'll pardon my joke."

Eb took the door handle in one hand, braced himself for whatever fresh insanity awaited, and stepped in.

"Ho ho ho. oh. Come in, and know me better man. Be not afraid, for I have no intention to harm you. Unless you are associated with either Ronan the Accuser or Thanos in which case I will kill you. That notwithstanding, come in, and know me better man."

Eb stared.

A huge, bald, ritualistically scarred and tattooed man stood in his office, surrounded by fake fruit, and wearing what appeared to be a curtain. He was also wearing what looked like a huge knot of poison verigiatium on his head, and carrying a traffic cone stuffed with tuber-chips the Eb suspected was supposed to be some sort of cut-price horn of plenty. He looked quite embarrassed about the whole set up.

"What is this, some sort of Toga party?" asked Eb, sourly.

"No, but yes in the sense that there is more than one person involved, so we technically form a party, and I am wearing a toga. But in the colloquial sense no. I am the Ghost of life day present, which is to say, the present sense of time, not gifts. The name is somewhat confusing."

"Everything tonight is. Let's get this over with." Muttered Eb. Present nodded.

"Touch my robe." Said Present. Eb did. Noting happened. "Touch my robe." Repeated Present, in a louder voice. There was some quiet muttering from the under the desk about missing the line about 1900 siblings and that being the cue, but eventually there was an electronic ping and the same shitty dissolve effect. Eb found himself, for the first time in seven years, outside his quarters.

"We shall now see how people enjoy life day in the present day. Of course it's not really the present, because it's one in the morning on life day eve and only the very drunk or insomniacs are awake, so we will be viewing a simulation of what we think tomorrow's life day will be like, making me technically the ghost of the life day very slightly in the future, not to be confused with the ghost of life day yet to come, who is someone different."

Behind them came the now familiar sound of the ghost of Brigs-Kayar facepalming.

"Let us go to your long-lost love Belle's house, and see how she keeps the spirit of life day and how it enriches her life."

Eb frowned. "She doesn't live on this station."

"I know."

"Then why did we fade-effect to the streets of the station on a bustling life-day morn?" said Eb. The ghost shrugged. "Because it's in the script. Pathos, I suspect." He said, as they faded to a very generic looking living room, with a beautiful life day spread laid out.

Belle stood before him wearing a huge floral bonnet, and looked adoringly to her husband and children, and said "Happy life day! See how our lives are enriched by the spirit of giving and charity and love and… Quill. Quill, the scrip's just ends there! There's no more dialogue!"

Her husband suddenly looked panicked, and said in the same voice as the ghost of Brig. "Well it took me an hour to write, I just assumed it would take an hour to act out as well. Wing it!" he said, before replying in a far more formal tone "Oh yes, see how our life is enriched by the spirit of love and giving and not impounding people's vehicles on life day eve."

"How much more of this do I have to put up with? Asked Eb.

Belle's husband looked to the ghost. The ghost shrugged and the husband said. "May as well cut the scene with the nephew as well then. Skip ahead to the bit with tiny Tom, that the only bit anyone cares about anyways."

The Ghost nodded, and the room faded to a different one.

"Hey, that's Sandus from purchasing" said Eb, as they appeared in a living room crammed with children. "He said he was off sick, the bastard's skiving off to play with his kids! I'll fire his ass for this."

"Shut up and watch this scene." Said the ghost of Brigs, who had appeared at his elbow for some reason. "It's the best one in the story."

"How was the temple of our lord and savior Glycon? Asked Sandus's wife, pealing a snow covered robe off him. "Was tiny Tom good?"

"As good as gold." said Sandus."I was worried that people would stare at him because of the sock-puppet on his hand, but on the way back he said he wanted them to see him, because he thought that at life day it might be pleasant for them to be reminded of who made lame hands into sock-puppet hands, and who made sock-puppetry into a major money making religious cult."

"Really?" asked Eb, at the same time as a voice from under the Ghost of Presents robe, which then followed up with "You couldn't have just stuck with the original version from the book and leave him crippled, you had to update it, didn't ya?"

"Stories need to modernize every so often or they go state." Said Brig, as tiny Tom launched into a soliloquy about how much he wanted to go to university and study drama and liberal arts.

"This… lacks the dramatic weight of the original." Said the ghost of present.

"At least it's less frickin' sappy." Said his robe.

"Agreed." Said Belle, who was leaning thought the wall to watch the scene.

"Stop ruining my vision!" yelled Brag, with all the inquired seriousness only a terrible fanfiction writer can muster. "You'll miss the dance scene!"

"Oh. Woe is me." Said Eb, with leaden sarcasm. "because I really, really care at this point what happens to the very annoying child. Tell me, ghost, if I don't change my evil ways, will tiny Tom ever realise his dream of going to university and becoming a great puppet performer?"

The Ghost of Christmas present leaned in with grave seriousness.

"I see an empty diploma by the window, and a glove puppet, carefully preserved. If these visions remain un-altered, Tiny tom will not graduate from his first choice university."

"Oh. The horror." Said Eb. He watched the dancing continue. "How long does this go on for?"

"Nine minutes." Said the Robe. "The ghost of literary war-crimes over there made me program it, so I know." There was an uncomfortable looking shuffling from under the robe. "Can I come out now? No one with a sense of smell as good as mine should have to spend this much time so close to another guy's crotch, and that votive wine from earlier has gone right through me and I need to take a piss."

Brig's facepalmed, but Belle said. "Go on then, this was my favorite scene in rehearsal."

The ghost of life-day present turned to Eb and said. "Ask me if I have something under my robe to show you." Eb stared.

"Can I please get a restraining order taken out on you guys?"

The ghost of life day present flipped back his robe and said "Behold." underneath was the ghost of life day past, but in a grubby flat cap and waistcoat to make it look more urchin like, and a potted plant, which waved.

"I carry them with me as all men do. the boy is named Ignorance, the hermaphrodite plant is called Want. Beware them both, but especially the boy."

"Wait, are you calling me ignorant?" asked the small furry urchin, glaring upwards. "I thought Groot was gonna be ignorance?"

"The scrip makes clear the ignorance in this setting is male…"said Present

"Does the script make clear that if you call me ignorant with my teeth this close to your junk you won't stay male 'till next life day?"

"Skip ahead to the next ghost!" yelled Brig.

"Oh no." said Present, inching at his vine-hat again. "My time is nearly up, and soon I must die. Not in any literal sense, you understand, but as a metaphor for the fleeting joys of the present. I must leave you in the care of the next ghost, who will show you the way to your salvation." Said the ghost of life-day present, trying to ignore the fact that Ignorance had just balanced Want on top of Tiny Tom's head, and was now urinating nosily in the corner of the room.

"Stop that!" yelled Brig.

"Hey, apparently the script says I'm ignorant. I don't know any better."

Eb facepalmed. He then felt the prickle of a sword at his throat, and looked up again.

A tall figure in a billowing back hood was holding a sword to his throat in one powerful green hand.

"Oh spirit, I fear you more than any Ghost I have yet encountered. Do I take it you are the ghost of life day yet to come?" The ghost nodded, and beckoned.

They fade-effected into a street. Some men he once knew from the stock exchange from years past were there talking.

"I don't know how it happened, all I know is he's dead."

The others nodded. "Who will get his money?" one asked. Another shrugged.

"I would guess he died interstate, so the government, he'll hate that, old-school libertarian that he was."

"Will you go to the funeral?" asked another. The first one shrugged.

"Nah, that guy was a douchebag. It's life day, let's all go have fun."

"Classic writing there!" Yelled Ignorance/Past.

"Hey you've got to keep these things fresh somehow and whoa! Watch were you're aiming these shoes are new!"

Eb snorted. Future beckoned him on.

They were back in his bedroom, where they had started. His housekeeper was using his coms console to call someone. That annoyed him, who would pay that bill?

"Finest linen." She said, holding his sheets up to the man she was messaging. "I got a good Suit as well, no need for one where he's going. And some other things, what can you give me?"

"Well, I recon' we could start at eighty units." Said the guy. Eb snorted. "I never knew the woman was such a good negotiator: I stole those sheets from a motel, and the suit is a courtesy of the morticians, I would imagine. I haven't owned one in years. Why bother when you work from home? And I don't understand: In a Christmas carol, why is Scrooge supposed to get so upset when his servants steal his clothes from his corpse: just a few chapters earlier Marley was telling him all the awful things that await him in the afterlife: you'd think he'd be more concerned with that. You may as well cut to the graveside scene."

"Yeah." Said Brig. "I never figured that out myself and… wait, What?" yelled Brig's ghost. But by then it was too late. Eb grabbed for the blaster in Bigs hip holster and spun around with it switched to maximum power and aimed at his face.

He stepped back and raised his hands, shocked.

"Honestly?" asked Eb. "The top life-day toy this year is a device that allows you to share and manipulate dreams, and you think for one second that I'd believe I was coincidentally visited by ghosts this very night? Are you all gibbering retards?" yelled Eb, reaching for his forehead. He wondered why his instinct on waking had been to do that, and after a moment he found the NES unit and ripped it off. The housekeeper faded, and Brig's facial features dissolved into those of Perter Jason Quill.

Eb sneered. "Dey called me, begged me to release your ship, showed me the footage from Xandar of how heroic you had all been, so I was expecting some shit like this when I said no. I made you as soon as I saw those rocket-boots. But really, I expected better from the so called 'Guardians of the Galaxy.' A NES hack? All those costume changes, but always so carefull to keep some sort of head-gear? Hiding NES units, are we? And Brig and Belle just how I remember them? Fancy that. And the visitation starting only after I went to bed, not before like in the book? Do you take me for an idiot?"

"You're read a Christmas carol?" asked Quill shocked. Eb sneered.

"When you were bickering I looked up terran equivalents of Life Day on the outer-net, and popular parables associated with them. This was the second one on the list. I skimmed it each time you stopped to bicker. I could very nearly have read the full thing in that time! and now, I think I'll call station security. Private security. No awkward questions asked by real police officers, just sell you all to Yondu for a quick buck." He sneered, hitting the coms panel. "Happy life day!" he snarled.

Nothing happened. He hit the panel again. Quill grinned.

"Yeah… to get in here and plant the NES on you, we had to disable the security system. You know when the electronics went mental as the first ghost came in? That wasn't part of the dream. That was Rocket. No-one's coming, and my pistols all have palm-print recognition."

Quill sighed and turned to his crew. "Well, I did try to help him." He said.

"Plan B? asked Rocket, grinning evilly. Quill nodded. "Plan B."

Eb screwed up his face in confusion. "What's plan B?" he said. Drax hit him in the head with the solid silver votive tray, knocking out six of his teeth and fracturing his mandible and zygomatic bones. The rest piled in.

"Grab his legs, grab his legs!"

"Screw that, let me bite his kneecaps off!"

"No! did anyone bring any Duck tape?"

"We can strip the cables of his bedside lamp, hogtie him with that."

"Or tare the sheet to strips."

"…how do you guys know this stuff?"

"An assassin and a bounty hunter and you need to ask? Quick, give him a lascavarian friction burn!"

"Not my lamp! It's an antique!"

"We could tie him with these troublesome irritant vines. They appear to be strong enough, but the oils in them might blister his skin if my scalp is anything to go by."

"Go for it."

"NOOOOO!"

"-and someone put a sock in it!"

"I cannot find a sock. Will these underpants suffice?"

"Are they clean?"

"… not anymore."

"Go for it."

"Mmmmph! Mmmmmph! MUUUPH!""

"Put Down the shock-prod Rocket, that'll do." said Quill. He then leaned in and grinned his best winning smile.

"You see Eb, we honestly were giving you a chance. Before we NES'd you, Rocket hacked your computer." He said pulling out the underpants form his mouth. "And you'll never guess what he found."

Eb's eye widened in shock. "Oh gods, that partition in the hard-drive was supposed to be undetectable. I swear, I didn't know those ship parts were going to Ronan when I sold them, don't report me for trading with the emery, it's twenty five to life!"

"Huh." Said Quill. "Partition in the hard drive? I was just talking about all the lascavarian porn. Oh, and I don't have palm-print recognition on my blasters, that was a bluff. Hey Rocket, what's Nova's reward for handing over someone trading with the enemy?"

"Around 30 g." said Rocket, leaning casually on Eb's face and grinning, or at least showing a lot of teeth.

"30 g Eh." Said Quill. "You starting to like Life day then, Rocket?"

"I could do if they keep on like this, captain."

"Yeah, me too. Stick with me and next year maybe we ca do another of my planets tradition Christmas stories. I know just the one… it's the greatest story ever told and it's known as… Die Hard."

And, as Mini-Groot observed [ferociously happy dancing and wiggling].

Make of that what you will.

Happy Life day.

Quill's Christmas Mix Tape: Let it Snow.