Note: So I'll be putting the Cartoon's Christmas Carol on Hold and instead doing a Dinosaur Version of this story inspired by Taliesaurus' Artwork.
A Dinosaurs Christmas Carol - Prologue
Deep in Prehistoric Times, In the Sinclair household, everyone was celebrating Refrigerator Day, or Fridge Day for short an analog to Christmas, celebrating the development of the greatest boon to modern dinosaurs, the refrigerator. Thanks to the development of this magical cold box, dinosaurs could store food and no longer had to continually roam, and thus were able to settle down and start families. Fridge Day is traditionally marked with gift-giving, a pageant recalling the first Refrigerator Day, festive decorations, a Fridge Day bonus, and jolly Refrigerator Day carols used to promote commercial goods. One drawback of the holiday is that dinosaurs often have to fast for two days before Fridge Day. Dinosaurs who fast for this occasion include the Sinclairs and Roy Hess (though Roy only does so between meals).
The family was gathered around the Living Room for the Sinclairs Fridge Day pageant with Ethyl reading a book entitled "And Now It Can Be Told... The True Story of Refrigerator Day." By now they were done with the story when Ethyl said, "The End."
"Yay! I love Fridge Day!" exclaimed Baby Sinclair.
"We all do Baby, it's a time for us to spend time as a family." replied.
"So what's next we finished Gift-giving?" asked Robbie
"And we finished the Pageant," added Charlene.
"Oh, I do have one story, about a Dinosaur who hated Fridge Day?" explained Earl. "And learns the true meaning of Fridge."
"And who would that be?" asked Charlene.
"It's called a Refridgerator Carol," Said Earl as he brought out a book from the shelf with the title. "It's an interesting one that tells the true meaning of Christmas."
"I wanna hear the story?!" said Baby.
"It might be interesting I wanna hear it too!" added Robbie.
"What's it about?" asked Charlene.
"That story I haven't heard in 20 years and it still holds up," added Ethyl.
"Alright since you wanna hear it, here goes A Refridgerator Carol," as he sits down on the chair as the family gathers around he opens the book and reads, "Marley was Dead to Begin with…"
"Um, Earl are you sure the kids should be hearing this?" asked Fran.
"Fran, That's how the story begins, "Marley was dead to begin with."
"I'm starting to like it from the beginning that's a great way to start a story continue," said Ethyl.
"There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner." Narrated Earl.
. . . . .
The book now shows the picture of a Baryonyx before we see him in a coffin, dead and with coins over his eyes his eye. The greedy Dino died a while ago and is going to be buried soon.
Someone looks on nearby while sighing in annoyance. He was an old Oviraptor in a working coat suit He was known as Ebeneezer Scrooge, Jacob's partner.
"Quite dead as a doornail," Scrooge said with a nod as he turned to the Quetzalcoatlus undertaker and a Dryosaurus boy who watched on.
"Ahem, the certificate of death, sir." The Undertaker reminds him. The Oviraptor nodded as he got the certificate, and then the Dinosaur opened and signed it on the witness line. Now Mr. Krabs will be buried officially. The Undertaker pterosaur took the certificate as Scrooge gave him the money while Dryosaurus placed the lid of the Coffin.
Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend and sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.
The mention of Marley's funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot - say Saint Paul's Churchyard for instance - literally to astonish his son's weak mind.
Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names: it was all the same to him.
Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind- stone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dogdays; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.
External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often "came down" handsomely, and Scrooge never did.
Outside, a chorus was singing while Scrooge was prepared to head on back to his place of business. He bumped into a Parasaurolophus couple, both of them frown at the grumpy man while the female Parasaurolophus says, "Hey, carefully!"
"Geez!" The Male Parasaurolophus said with a frown.
As Oviraptor head on, he stops to glance at a chorus of kids made up of an Ankylosaurus, Triceratops, Ornithomimus, Dakotaraptor, Alamosaurus, and Edmontosaurus singing a Fridge Day song.
Dino Kids: *Singing* Oh, tidings for comfort joy
From heavenly heavenly father of blessed...
Anyklosaurus: Age
Edmontosaurus: And...
The Dino kids slowly stop singing and look fearful at Mr. Scrooge glaring angrily at them while snapping, "Bah, humbug!"
Some of the singing choruses hid their coin cups behind themselves before backing away to two adult Pahchycephalosaurus.
Ebenezer Scrooge grumbled as he kept on singing. Once the grumpy man is gone, the Female Pachycephalosaurus motions the kids to keep on singing. While the song continues, Ebenezer stops a moment as a carriage pulled by a Placerias passes by.
Scrooge glances at two dino kids, an Allosaurus and a Carnotaurus sliding downward on some ice while laughing. The Allosaur said, "Woo-hoo!"
"Giddyup, go on, yahoo!" Carnotaurus giggles happily.
"Ugh, won't do you any good," Scrooge said as he walked down the street, going past people going about town and doing their usual business. It's the Fridge Day season. To most people, it's the best time of the year.
For Ebenezer, he just wants to ignore Fridge Day and pretend that it never existed.
Scrooge grumbled as a Lystrosaurus saw him and whimpered in alarm while moving away, causing a Dilophosaurus, who was holding him, to yelp as she got pulled around.
Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see me?" No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place, of Scrooge. Even the blind men's dogs appeared to know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they said, "No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!"
But what did Scrooge care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call "nuts" to Scrooge.