Chapter Three
Disclaimer: I do not own A Christmas Carol.
Scrooge had barely gotten back under his covers when he heard the clock strike two. Cursing softly, Scrooge reluctantly got back up and went to go investigate the jolly laughter that was suddenly emanating from the next room over.
"Another spirit, I presume?" Scrooge asked, looking up at the jolly green giant who barely fit in his room and certainly did not seem to belong there.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present, yes," the spirit confirmed.
"Well, this should be shorter then," Scrooge said, feeling slightly more optimistic about the whole thing.
"We can visit more people," the spirit told him.
Scrooge groaned. "There's actually no one I want to see and certainly not at this hour."
"I will be taking you to see them at a later time today," the spirit clarified.
"Some 'present'," Scrooge scoffed.
"Or we could just watch everybody sleep," the spirit threatened.
Scrooge hesitated. "Can I have a moment to think about it?"
"No. Now come on," the spirit ordered.
"So how does this whole 'Christmas Present' thing work?" Scrooge asked curiously. "Were you born today? Will you die tonight? Are you like a phoenix or something?"
"You've never seen my like before?" the spirit sounded disappointed.
"No, I haven't. And since I am clearly talking about a giant Christmas spirit, let's not make this about any larger issues like me not appreciating Christmas or something."
"But-" the spirit started to say.
"No," Scrooge said firmly.
The spirit sighed, looking a little discouraged. Scrooge often had that effect on people. He held out his hand and when Scrooge took it the scene changed.
They were walking among the city on Christmas morning and watching everyone celebrate.
"Oh, ugh," Scrooge remarked eloquently, making a face.
"What?" the spirit asked, looking around for the source of Scrooge's displeasure.
"I hate moving about the common people," Scrooge answered. "It's part of why I made so much money and why I generally stay indoor on Christmas. There's nothing miraculous or wonderful or life-changing about any of this."
"Well, fine. Maybe you'll care more about someone you know," the spirit suggested.
Scrooge snorted. "I doubt it. I don't like anyone that I know."
The scene changed and they ended up in an extremely poor neighborhood.
Scrooge jumped and looked around him nervously. "I'm not visible, am I? I can't shake the feeling that I'm going to get violently murdered here."
"You're not going to be murdered, violently or otherwise," the spirit said, rolling his eyes. "You're not visible and at any rate this isn't really that bad of a neighborhood. It's just poor."
"Do I have to go in there?" Scrooge asked, eyeing the house in front of him unhappily.
"You could stay out here and see which one of us is right about you being murdered," the spirit said carelessly.
Scrooge quickly stepped through the door and looked around, feeling decidedly uncomfortable at all of the poverty around him. He lived simply, too, but that was by choice and so it was different.
"I don't know these people," Scrooge asked, surveying the scene around him of a family preparing dinner.
"Wait," the spirit instructed.
"Why did Father take Tiny Tim to church while none of us went?" a boy asked. "I mean, I'm not even really helping."
"You should," his mother said.
"I don't mind," a girl said. "Church is really boring and so crowded today!"
"I think that's him!" the boy said, listening carefully. "Martha, go hide!"
Laughing, Martha ducked into the next room.
The door opened and Cratchit walked in carrying a small and sickly boy on his shoulders.
"Oh, joy. My clerk who I'm going to fire tomorrow," Scrooge said apathetically.
"They are darling," the spirit argued.
"They're rather dirty," Scrooge said distastefully.
"What a thing to say!" the spirit cried out, appalled.
"I actually meant that literally. They need to bathe," Scrooge clarified. "Tell me that that's not true."
"They don't have the money to bathe more regularly and it is all your fault!" the spirit accused.
"I don't see how it is. Some of them could get jobs or Cratchit could get a better one," Scrooge countered. "Maybe he'll get one once I fire him."
"Where's our Martha?" Cratchit asked, looking around eagerly.
"I should also add that referring to someone as 'our so-and-so' annoys me beyond measure," Scrooge declared.
Everyone looked down sadly.
"She couldn't come?" Cratchit asked hollowly, looking terribly disappointed. "But…Christmas!"
"Here I am, Father!" Martha exclaimed, bounding into the room. "I can't bear to see you so disappointed, even as a joke."
"How asinine. 'I can't stand to see you so disappointed'," Scrooge repeated mockingly. "What a daft girl! It was a joke. Either commit to five bloody minutes or don't even bother."
"Don't you think you're being too hard on her?" the spirit asked him.
"I think I hate her," Scrooge continued undaunted.
Tiny Tim went up to his room for something and Cratchit took his wife aside. "Today at church, he was so good! He didn't fall asleep or anything like the others always do. He said that he hoped that everyone in church saw him," Cratchit said, getting all choked up. "He thought it might be pleasant for them to be reminded of the man who healed the lame on today of all days."
"Aw!" Mrs. Cratchit and the spirit cooed as one.
"Isn't he darling?" the spirit exclaimed.
"I don't think so. He sounds suspiciously precocious and, while I hate all children in general, I especially hate precious children above all," Scrooge declared. "If the words 'darling', 'precious', 'adorable', or anything along those lines is used to describe a child then they are anathema to me. And I bet no one was even thinking that when they saw him anyway. How self-centered, thinking everybody would spend so much time thinking of him."
"You're a monster," the spirit said, glaring at him.
"Look, I'm not saying that I want to punch this kid," Scrooge defended himself. "Although, to be fair, I am sort of starting to think about it."
Tiny Tim slowly staggered down the stairs and everyone patiently waited for him to get to the table.
Everyone but Scrooge, that is. He tapped his foot rapidly. "Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!"
"What's your hurry?" the spirit snapped.
"I dislike my time being wasted. I'm sure he can do it himself but it takes all damn day," Scrooge complained. "Just carry him! He is not independent and he never will be."
The Cratchits said grace once he had finally reached the table.
"And now let's give a toast to the founder of our feast, Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge!" Cratchit said, holding his glass up.
"I would love to know how you figured that," Scrooge scoffed.
"The founder of the feast indeed!" Mrs. Cratchit obviously didn't think much of that idea either.
"Emily!" Cratchit cried out.
"What?" Emily demanded. "He barely pays you as it is, he keeps threatening to fire you, he begrudges giving you Christmas off…And, despite your attempts to moderate your stories, I can tell that he is just generally a complete asshole."
The spirit looked over at Scrooge to see his reaction.
Scrooge was almost smiling.
"That you like?" The spirit couldn't believe it.
Scrooge shrugged. "Why not? She's just being honest and she has reason enough not to like me. At least she's not wishing me a happy Christmas."
"The children, Emily," Cratchit said imploringly, nodding to the anxious children. "And it's Christmas."
Emily sighed. "Fine. Though I will be toasting him for your sake and the day's. I'm sure he'll be very happy alone with his piles of money."
"I would be," one of the boys muttered.
"God bless us," the Cratchits sans Tiny Tim intoned.
"God bless us, every one," Tiny Tim said quietly.
"You know he just does that to be different," Scrooge groused.
"So precious!" the spirit enthused.
Scrooge just shook his head disgustedly.
"What if I told you that Tiny Tim is going to die within the year unless you personally spend a great deal of money on doctors for him and getting him better food and more coal?" the spirit inquired.
Scrooge tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I'd say that it seems quite unfair to put all of that on me. I don't even know the kid and I don't like what I've seen."
"So you want him to die?" the spirit cried out melodramatically.
"That's overstating it," Scrooge said reprovingly. "I just don't particularly care."
"I wanted to use your own words against you here," the spirit said wistfully.
"I would apologize but I hate to have my own words used against me," Scrooge said unsympathetically.
"Tiny Tim was supposed to really change you, to humanize the nameless faceless poor you were fine with ignoring and mistreating. He was supposed to make you care. You were supposed to weep for the injustice that would allow such an innocent soul to perish in this cruel world," the spirit further lamented.
"Well, I didn't. And why would I? I don't even know him and he's extremely annoying. Why does everybody think that years of making me the way I am can be undone by looking over my past once more and watching a sick kid?" Scrooge wondered aloud.
"Let's just go, shall we?" the spirit asked rhetorically, sighing heavily.
Scrooge gladly took his hand and they ended up in a much nicer house in a parlour where a great deal of festivities were going on.
Fred was standing in the middle of the room laughing loudly and everybody else was just sort of watching him and that wasn't weird at all.
"He said that that Christmas was a humbug, he really did!" Fred swore. "And he believed it, too!"
"I'm sure he did," one of the guests remarked. "But Fred, why are we talking about your uncle? It's kind of weird."
"I agree," Scrooge concurred, nodding. "I am going to hope that we purposefully came when they were talking about me or else I really have to wonder about him. More so than I already do, that is."
"I'm just trying to explain why he's not here," Fred said innocently.
"Nobody actually expected him to come," the guest persisted. "Seeing as how he never comes. If he did come, I'd be shocked."
"Plus, he's pretty amusing. Not very nice, of course, but who does his unpleasantness hurt apart from himself? I certainly don't mind it," Fred declared.
"Those poor souls who work for him or have to do business with him, I imagine," someone said.
"Well, yes," Fred conceded. "But aside from them."
"Plus he's very rich and people always make allowances for the wealthy," Fred's wife remarked.
Fred laughed again. "That is true, Clara. But it's not like he ever spends any of it so he might as well be poor. And he's certainly never going to give it to us."
"I intend for it to be a surprise when he receives it," Scrooge explained to the spirit. "Just because I'm giving him all of my money when I die doesn't mean I want any more contact with him now."
"I have no patience with him," Clara said indignantly.
"And I can't say she's making a great impression on me, either," Scrooge declared.
"Why do you need to have patience with him?" one of the guests asked. "Didn't you say that you never met him and he wants nothing to do with your family so if it weren't for Fred's constant visits then you wouldn't ever even have to concern yourself with him?"
"Well…" Clara flailed but quickly rallied. "He really should be more appreciative of dear Fred's generosity and perseverance!"
"But he doesn't want it so why should he be at all appreciative?" another guest asked.
"I feel sorry for him honestly," Fred admitted. "I mean, here he is in life having everything that a man could want – except a family but that I can only assume was by choice – and yet he is so very miserable. I really don't understand it. He could have such a pleasant time if he came here and dined with us but he just won't do it. But I intend to continue and try to wear him down. Who knows? If I can't convince him maybe I'll at least get him to leave his poor clerk fifty pounds."
"He can leave the man fifty pounds himself if he wants to after I'm gone," Scrooge sniffed.
The subject mercifully changed after that and the party moved on.
Eventually, after another hour or so (Scrooge kept trying to catch the spirit's eye to find out how long they had to stay but the spirit studiously avoided looking at him) they began to play 'yes or no.' It was a simple game and Scrooge rather felt an asinine one.
They finally got to one question that seemed to stump everybody. It was a live, disagreeable, savage animal that growled, grunted, and spoke. It lived in London and walked about the streets without being a show of led by anybody and it wasn't a part of a zoo or killed in a market. And because that could describe a great many animals, Fred also had to clarify that it was not a horse, a donkey, a cow, a bull, a tiger, a dog, a pig, a cat, or a bear.
"I wish this game had a question cap," Scrooge grumbled.
"I know!" Clara's sister called out suddenly. "It's your Uncle Scrooge!"
"Oh, are we back on him?" one of the guests asked, sighing, as Fred laughed and nodded.
"You really should have said 'yes' at 'is it a bear'," another guest claimed. "When you said 'no' there was really no way that I was ever going to have gotten it."
"Oh yes," Scrooge said sarcastically. "These are kind and pleasant people who I am missing out on a great deal by choosing not to associate myself with."
"Since we keep making fun of him, we should probably drink to his health or something," Fred decided. He held up a cup. "To Uncle Scrooge!"
Everyone else quickly followed suit.
"If I had anyone else to leave my money to, I would so disinherit him," Scrooge announced. "But then, I often feel that way after leaving my nephew's company."
Then the spirit made Scrooge tag along as he visited what must be every single slightly unhappy person in the world who celebrated Christmas and manually and individually brightened their day. Scrooge complained bitterly the entire time but the spirit paid him no heed.
The spirit seemed to be aging before his eyes.
"Are you seriously dying?" Scrooge couldn't believe it as they stopped on top of a mostly deserted bridge.
"It is nearly midnight and I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," the spirit reminded him.
"It's not even three in the morning," Scrooge protested. "Because that's when I'm supposed to meet with the third spirit."
"Stop overthinking it!" the spirit ordered.
"Why does everybody keep telling me that?" Scrooge wondered.
"Maybe you should take their advice," the spirit hinted.
"Maybe I would if it wasn't such stupid advice," Scrooge retorted. He happened to notice something strange under the spirit's robes. "Er…what?"
"Oh, this," the spirit obligingly moved his robe (Scrooge automatically shutting his eyes before slowly cracking them open again as he realized that he was not, in fact, being flashed) to reveal two of the ugliest children that Scrooge had ever seen. They were dirty and diseased and discolored and quite savage-looking. They might almost have been feral.
"Spirit, I know I said earlier that I didn't like children but I think that I really hate these two," Scrooge declared, feeling suddenly squeamish.
"It's a common reaction," the spirit said agreeably.
"So…what is the deal with them?" Scrooge asked hesitantly.
"They are mankind's children," the spirit explained.
"Correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think that a species as a whole is capable of having children," Scrooge said. He held up a hand. "I know, I know. You want me to stop 'overthinking' it."
"The boy is Ignorance and the girl is Want. And I mean 'want' as in 'to lack' and not 'to desire,'" the spirit informed him.
"That's kind of obvious, spirit," Scrooge retorted.
"You would be surprised," the spirit said cryptically. "Beware both of them and everything to do with them but especially the boy because he will destroy everyone and everything."
"Maybe we should think about killing him then," Scrooge suggested.
The spirit was horrified. "He's a child!"
"You just said he was going to kill us all," Scrooge said unrepentantly.
"That wouldn't even work since he's just a physical representation of an abstract concept," the spirit replied.
"We could still try," Scrooge claimed.
"We could," the spirit agreed. "But, well, why bother when we have perfectly good prisons and workhouses that your taxes go to support? Ah, I did get to use your own words against you after all!"
"Sort of but not really because that's not a direct quote but some pretty heavy paraphrasing," Scrooge answered calmly.
The bell struck twelve.
"I won!" the spirit cried out as he disappeared.
Scrooge was soon distracted from the unprofessionalism of the spirit by a figure that looked a lot like how he imagined death would look coming closer to him.
"I take it that you're the Ghost of Christmas Future?" Scrooge asked, trying to be brave. He frowned. "That sounds weird. How about 'Yet To Come'? Yes, I think that sounds a lot better."
The spirit said nothing but inclined his head.
"Oh, are you not a talker then?" Scrooge asked, unable to stop the smile from breaking out over his face. "Finally, this evening is looking up!"
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