CHAPTER THREE - A PRESENT FROM ME

Mr Grumpfish went straight back to bed, and put his head on the pillow. He had just closed his eyes, however, when he heard a voice.

'Wake up, Mr Grumpfish!' It said.

'AHHH!' Mr Grumpfish screamed.

It wasn't a quiet voice either, as you can tell. And it wasn't sweet like Oona's was. It was bombastic and wild. Very energetic too. I'm sure you can guess which one of my students this might be.

Once Mr Grumpfish calmed down, he noticed a delectable smell wafting through the air. It was the aroma of a great big feast! Sure enough, when he looked around, he saw a massive heap of fresh produce and meats surrounding him. How did all that food get there? Magic, of course!

'What the…?' He murmured.

It just got weirder, because there was someone else in the room. And she was sitting upon a throne made of pumpkins. If that wasn't wild enough, she had a big curly hairstyle that she wore candy canes in. Now you know for certain who's playing this role, don't you?

'W-Who are you?' Mr Grumpfish asked. 'You're one of those spirits, right?'

The spirit nodded. 'Yep! And by the looks of it, I certainly came to the right place. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present! Which is a big mouthful, so just call me Deema!'

Mr Grumpfish rolled his eyes. 'Oh, of course.'

'But not 'present' like a gift. I mean 'present' as in time. You know, the here and now! But, I guess it makes no difference. After all, the time now is certainly a gift!'

Deema laughed at her own joke, much to Mr Grumpfish's annoyance.

'Well, when you think about it,' Deema continued. 'I'm kinda the Ghost of Christmas Future, since I'm actually gonna show you what's gonna happen tomorrow. But the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come isn't here yet, cos it's my job right now, and-'

'Alright!' Mr Grumpfish said. 'I get it. If you're here to do something, then do it instead of just rambling.'

Deema blushed and gave him a nervous smile.

'Sorry!' She said. 'I've been doing these Christmases for about a thousand years, and I still can't keep my mouth from running. My job is to show you what's going to happen at Christmas tomorrow. Pretty neat, huh?'

'What's with all the food?' Mr Grumpfish asked. 'I'm sure you have it here for a reason.'

'A very good reason! See, it's a metaphor. A metaphor for, um…'

It was then that Deema realised that she totally forgot what the deal with all the food was. It was a metaphor for something, but what she could not remember. After just a few seconds, she tried to pretend she never answered the question and just moved on. My student may not have the best memory in the world, but she is great at improv, you see.

'Take a swim with me Downtown!' She said. 'We won't need to fly anywhere cos we're just going down the street. And it's gonna be important, so I hope you're paying attention!'

With the promise of absolutely no flying, how could Mr Grumpfish say no? He took Deema's hand and let her guide him down the street. It wasn't night time anymore. It was the middle of the day! And people were absolutely everywhere. And I mean, everywhere. Families playing in the snow, carollers singing, people admiring the gorgeous decorations… everything you'd expect to see on a day like this.

'Ugh, Christmas,' Mr Grumpfish muttered. 'Why does everyone love this holiday?'

'Because it's awesome!' Deema said. 'But that's not important right now. What is important is that we've finally arrived at your nephew's place.'

'My nephew? What are we doing here?'

'You'll find out! Be patient.'

Deema led him inside the house. Again, they didn't open the door. They simply went right through it. They went into the living room, where Mr Grumpfish found his not-so-beloved nephew celebrating with his best friend Gil. His legal guardians, two Guppy sisters known as Tetra and Minnow, were in the kitchen preparing a good Christmas lunch.

'I have no idea why your nephew likes you,' Deema said. 'There was a whole thing about how your sister adopted him and then she, uh… played hooky. And after all that, you're a jerk to him.'

Mr Grumpfish groaned. Unlike Oona, who had taken her role as Ghost of Christmas Past quite seriously, Deema acted as though this whole thing was just a game to her.

'But you gotta focus on him,' She said. 'You might learn something interesting.'

The two boys seemed to be in the middle of a little game as they waited. Gil had his hands close to his shoulders, with his fingers spread out like claws. For added effect, he growled too. Ferocious!

'Oh, I know!' Goby said. 'You're a T. Rex!'

'That's right!' Gil said. 'You're so good at these. Now, it's your turn.'

'Okay, okay, I'm thinking of an animal.'

Deema sat down on a nearby table. 'Ooh, I like this game!'

Mr Grumpfish groaned again. But still, he watched and listened. There was nothing else to do, really.

'Is it a mammal?' Gil asked.

Goby said with a nod, 'That's right.'

'Can you find it in Bubbletucky?'

'Unfortunately, yes.'

Now, between you and me, Mr Grumpfish was getting just a little invested in this game.

'It's a squirrel!' Deema yelled. 'No, a rat. Wait, no, a rabbit. A seagull!'

'Seagulls aren't mammals,' Mr Grumpfish said. 'And besides, he can't hear you.'

'So? I can still join in!'

Gil tapped his chin in thought.

'Does it have hooves, or paws?' Gil asked.

'Hooves,' Goby replied. 'And, for an extra hint, it makes a sound like this - HEE-HAW!'

Don't tell anyone that I said this, but Mr Grumpfish grinned. He knew the answer! A donkey. Only a donkey would make a sound like that. If they could hear him, he'd blurt out the answer. But he waited for Gil to answer it instead. But the answer Gil gave wasn't quite what he was expecting.

'Wait, I know!' He said. 'It's Mr Grumpfish!'

Goby chuckled. 'You got it right! After all, he really is an ass!'

Oh, language! Sorry about that, but it's what he said, and it's my job to tell you every word. And, well, I'm sure we can get away with it. He's referring to the animal, after all. What made you think he was referring to anything else? Certainly not anything inappropriate.

The boys laughed it up. And Deema did too. It took her a moment to regain her composure so she could make a point.

'See?' She said. 'Your nephew doesn't think very highly of you. In fact, he-'

But she was quite surprised to find that Mr Grumpfish was laughing too!

'Hey!' She said. 'You're not supposed to find that funny!'

'Well, it is,' Mr Grumpfish said. 'You can never go wrong with a good pun. And you have to admit, he's not totally wrong.'

'YOU'RE MISSING THE-!'

Deema let out a deep sigh, and rubbed her temples.

'Alright,' She said. 'I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this. But I gotta break out the big stuff. If seeing your nephew calling you an ass isn't enough to convince you, I can only hope the next thing is. Let's keep watching to see what happens next.'

After the boys were done laughing at their little joke, Gil looked up at the big clock on the wall. And that sure put him in a panic.

'It's that time already?!' He cried. 'Molly's Christmas lunch is going to start soon!'

'Then get going!' Goby said. 'You didn't miss it last year, or the year before. Don't ruin your streak now!'

Gil bid his goodbyes to Goby and his guardians, and zipped out the door faster than you can blink. Mr Grumpfish certainly didn't catch him speeding on by. But Deema did.

'Oh, we gotta hurry up!' She said. 'It wouldn't be any good if we didn't make it there in time. And this is a pretty biiiig thing too, so we better not miss it!'

Deema guided Mr Grumpfish through the streets, as fast as she could move him. It didn't take long before they arrived at a house only a few blocks away from Goby's. One of the windows was broken, and the chimney was a little bent, but it was home. And home to who, you might ask? Perhaps, you already know whose house this was.

'Alright, pay attention!' Deema said. 'Cos if you don't, I'll make you watch the whole thing twice. Don't think I'm bluffing. I'll do it!'

'Okay, okay, I believe you,' Mr Grumpfish. 'I'll watch.'

They swam up to the broken window and peeped inside. The house wasn't much warmer than Mr Grumpfish's office. Gil had just arrived and was dusting all the snow off his sweater.

'Hi, Molly!' He said. 'Merry Christmas!'

Miss Molly Cratchit, celebrating her only day off that year, was tending to the stove. And, may I add, it smelled rather nice for how simple it was. One thing was quite obvious though - it wasn't a lot. Just a basic soup with very few ingredients.

'Wow, what a mess,' Deema remarked. 'You'd think Molly would be able to afford a better looking kitchen and a bit more food, seeing as she doesn't get any days off.'

Molly gave him a smile, and poured the soup into two little bowls. One for herself, and seemingly one for Gil. But it was actually for someone else, you see.

'Merry Christmas, Gilly' Molly said, after sneezing once again. 'Sorry that I can't give you any food today. I barely have enough as it is.'

'That's okay!' Gil said. 'I just want to spend some time with you on Christmas. Sucks that you're kinda sick on such a wonderful day, though.'

'Eh, blame Mr Grumpfish and his office. Can you imagine not wanting to use up a single piece of coal just to make the place a little warmer? My ink was practically frozen.'

'At least that grump gave you one day off.'

Never in his life had Mr Grumpfish ever questioned the way he ran his office, or how stingy he was with his coal pieces. Never had it crossed his mind that his own refusal to heat the place was what had been making Molly so ill. Not until now, at least.

'Gee,' He said. 'I really should heat up the place a little more.'

'Well, you've learnt one lesson today,' Deema said. 'But there's something else you gotta see.'

It didn't take long before Mr Grumpfish saw what she was talking about. Someone else had entered the room. But this someone wasn't quite as old as Molly or Gil. She was a very young Guppy, only a few years old. Her hair was the same shade of pink as Molly's, and she had the same eyes too. Only her tail was different - all pink instead of blue.

'That's Molly's little sister, Mia,' Deema explained. 'And she's the most important thing in Molly's life. Everything Miss Cratchit does is for Mia!'

There was something about this child that Mr Grumpfish quickly realised. Mia couldn't swim as well as the others could. She required the use of a little cane to keep herself upright and moving. There was no way she could reach the table without it. It took some struggling for her to seat herself at the table. There was just a little more soup in her bowl than Molly's.

'What's wrong with that little girl?' Mr Grumpfish asked.

'It's not the cane you should be worried about,' Deema replied. 'Lots of people in the world need canes and stuff to move around. Nothing wrong with that! If that was Mia's only 'problem', we wouldn't need to be here.'

Mia took a sip of the soup, coughing a little as soon as she had swallowed.

'Oh, Mia,' Molly said, hardly touching her own food. 'Are you sure you can finish it?'

'I'm sure!' Mia said, though she didn't sound very alright. 'It's a very good soup. I just wish there was more of it.'

Molly sighed. 'I know. I wish there was more soup too. But you know what it's like with Mr Grumpfish.'

'He's awful!' Gil said. 'Just a big ol' scrooge.'

Mr Grumpfish frowned. Well, he frowned more than usual. Do you think he was proud to be called a 'scrooge'? Of course not. In fact, he wasn't even aware of his reputation.

'Is that really what people think of me?' He asked.

'Eeyup,' Deema said. 'People reeeally don't like you. And that's because you're kind of a big jerk.'

Mr Grumpfish rolled his eyes. 'I appreciate your sugar coating.'

'… I didn't coat anything with sugar.'

Mr Grumpfish chose not to respond to this, and kept watching the family. To his surprise, Mia didn't seem to like Gil's remark. She looked a little angry about it, in fact. She crossed her arms and pouted in a way only a child her age could.

'Don't say that,' She said. 'That's mean.'

'What are you talking about?' Gil asked. 'Don't you realise how mean Mr Grumpfish is?'

'I know he isn't nice. He's really mean. But he's still a person. And I don't think he's all bad. I'm sure that there's some good in him. There's good in everyone!'

Quite profound, especially for a child her age. Perhaps a bit idealistic, but there's nothing wrong with a little idealism. Mr Grumpfish must have agreed, because he was staring through the window with a slackjaw expression.

'I think Mr Grumpfish just needs a chance,' Mia continued. 'And if he got it, he'd be a wonderful person!'

'Hmph,' Gil huffed. 'Well, that someone isn't going to be me.'

'That's just cos you're scared of him!'

'Hey! A-Am not! … Okay, maybe I'm a little scared. But do you blame him? Mr Grumpfish is a scary man!'

'Maybe he wouldn't be so scary if you got to know him better.'

Mr Grumpfish couldn't help staring at this young child in awe. It had been the first time in years that someone had defended him so adamantly. Perhaps the first time since his best friend Zooline had left him. Molly was not so convinced, and who could blame her? When she took a sip of her own soup, she cringed. Barely enough ingredients to make a soup, and she didn't even like it.

'Mia,' She said. 'I'm not sure if Mr Grumpfish will ever change.'

'Maybe you're right,' Mia said, coughing again. 'Or maybe you're wrong. I should go talk to him! I could get him to heat up your office a little more.'

Molly slammed her fist down onto the table so loudly and so suddenly that it made Mr Grumpfish jump. And Gil. And even Deema.

'I don't want you going anywhere near that man,' Molly said. 'He hates children, and I can't bear to think about what he'd do to you if he had the chance. If he's harsh enough to me, his only worker, he's gonna be even worse to you.'

Mia looked down in disappointment. '... Oh…'

'Alright, let's stop talking about that grump,' Gil said. 'You know what we should do instead? Celebrate this Christmas as best as we can!'

Molly smiled. 'You're right, Gilly. Merry Christmas, guys!'

Mia raised her spoon into the air. Well, she tried to. She could only get it up so high before she had to put her tired arm back down.

'Merry Christmas to everyone!' She said. 'Even that mean ol' Mr Grumpfish!'

Mr Grumpfish's attention hadn't waned from little Mia. He watched her struggle to eat her soup and cough up a storm, all with a big smile on her face.

'Mia's sick, Mr Grumpfish,' Deema said.

Her voice was the one thing to break his concentration. For almost this entire trip, her voice had been bubbly and excited. She sounded like she wasn't taking her role very seriously at all. But those simple four words were spoken so seriously and joylessly that Mr Grumpfish could hardly believe it was the same ghost.

'How sick?' He asked.

'Really, really sick,' Deema replied. 'I'm not sure with what, but she's ill. Nothing that a child like her couldn't live through. That is, if she was given enough food and a nice warm house.'

She glared right at Mr Grumpfish before speaking again.

'Shame that she can't get any of that.'

For such a young girl with such a crazy hairdo, her glare was effective. Just what I expect from my feisty little Deema. Mr Grumpfish certainly did not miss her point.

'Spirit,' He said. 'Please, tell me honestly. What is to become of that little girl?'

'I'm afraid I can't give you a clear answer,' Deema said. 'I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present, remember? I work with the here and the now. But, I can make a guess. You know what I think?'

'... W-What?'

'I see an empty chair and a lonely cane where Mia once sat.'

It only took a moment for Mr Grumpfish to understand what she was saying. If there was any doubt over what she meant, the quiver in her voice gave it away. Even I, your narrator, am finding myself shivering from the thought. I can't help thinking of the real Mia, who I have met a few times already. But this isn't about what's happening in real life. This is about the story.

'Wait!' Mr Grumpfish cried. 'Y-You can't mean it. You can't be serious! This little girl can't die. She can't!'

'Well, she can,' Deema said, the joy of her voice completely gone now. 'She wouldn't be the first.'

'She can't! It won't happen. How could fate let her die?'

'It's not fate that could kill her, Mr Grumpfish. And you know it.'

'WAIT!'

He cried out for her again, but it was too late. The house of the Cratchits' was gone, and so was that beautiful Christmas day. Deema was gone too. He was back in his bedroom, with no one else in sight. Even so, he couldn't stop thinking about little Mia.

'This is ridiculous,' He muttered to himself. 'She can't die. She… she has to make it. There's no way that she…'

He stopped himself right there. There was a chilling breeze floating through his room, even though the window was shut tight. The light on his candle went out.

There was no doubt about it. The third and final spirit had already arrived.