Published Dec 29, 2008

Written By



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Words directly from Charles Dickens classic novel with a few from me as well, and a few lines from the 1951 classic British film.

I was inspired by TSR's 'Industrial Revolution' theme, lot of the CC is from that. Horses from MTS2.

Happy New Year!!~~

Words directly from Charles Dickens classic novel with a few from me as well, and a few lines from the 1951 classic British film.

I was inspired by TSR's 'Industrial Revolution' theme, lot of the CC is from that. Horses from MTS2.

Happy New Year!!~~
Ebenezer Scrooge made his way toward his money-lending office. Scrooge was hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.
Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you?"
No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle.

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.
It was cold, bleak, biting weather: External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him.

The city clocks had only gone past four, but it was quite dark already -- it had not been light all day: and candles were flaring in the windows of the neighbouring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air.

Two urchins huddled for warmth outside his office, singing, "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" for the tuppance that might be thrown their way.
"Be off with you!" Scrooge snarled.
Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley, even though Marley was long dead.

Sitting not far from Scrooge's glare was his long-suffering clerk, Bob Cratchit. He had smiled and wished Scrooge a 'Merry Christmas' when he entered.

"There's another fellow," muttered Scrooge; "My clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and family, talking about a Merry Christmas. I'll retire to Bedlam."
"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge's nephew, Fred.

"Bah!" said Scrooge, "Humbug!"
"Christmas a humbug, uncle!" said Scrooge's nephew. "You don't mean that, I am sure."
"I do," said Scrooge. "Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough."

"Come, then," returned Fred happily. "What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough."
"Nephew!" returned the uncle, sternly, "keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine."

"Keep it!" repeated Scrooge's nephew. "But you don't keep it."

"Let me leave it alone, then," said Scrooge. "Much good may it do you! Much good it has ever done you!"
"Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us tomorrow."
Scrooge rose from his chair. "No." he said firmly.

But why?" cried Fred. "Why?"

"Why did you get married?" said Scrooge pointedly.

"Because I fell in love." Fred said simply.

"Because you fell in love!" growled Scrooge, "as if that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a Merry Christmas. "Good afternoon!"
"Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that happened. Why give it as a reason for not coming now?" Fred replied.

"Good afternoon," said Scrooge.

"I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you; why cannot we be friends?"

"Good afternoon," said Scrooge.

"I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We have never had any quarrel, to which I have been a party. But I have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I'll keep my Christmas humour to the last. So a Merry Christmas, uncle!"
His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding.
Fred no sooner left and another man entered.
"Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge, or Mr. Marley?" he addressed Bob Cratchit.

"Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years," Scrooge replied from across the room. "He died seven years ago, this very night."

"I have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his surviving partner," said the gentleman, presenting his credentials.
"At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge," said the gentleman, "it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and Destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time."

"Are there no prisons?" asked Scrooge.

"Plenty of prisons," said the gentleman
"And the Union workhouses?" demanded Scrooge. "Are they still in operation?"
"They are. Still," returned the gentleman, "I wish I could say they were not."
"Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course," said Scrooge.
"It is at this time of year that want is keenly felt, what shall I put you down for?" asked the gentleman.
"Nothing!" Scrooge replied.

"You wish to be anonymous?"
I wish to be left alone," said Scrooge. "And the poor should go to the workhouses."
"Many can't go there; and many would rather die."
"If they would rather die," said Scrooge, "they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Good afternoon!" Scrooge huffed.

"You'll want all day to-morrow, I suppose?" said Scrooge turning toward Cratchit.

"If quite convenient, sir."

"It's not convenient," said Scrooge, "and it's not fair. If I was to stop half-a-crown for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I'll be bound?"

The clerk smiled faintly. "It is only once a year Sir..."
"A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December!" said Scrooge, buttoning his great-coat to the chin. "But I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning."
After a melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy tavern, Scrooge returned to his home. He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, darkness is cheap, and Scrooge liked it.

As he sat before his meagre fire, he swore he could hear bells ringing. "Bah...humbug!" he muttered.
Then he could hear a loud sound on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then coming straight towards his door.
Scrooge leapt to his feet. "I know him; Marley's Ghost!"

The same face: the very same. Though he looked the phantom through and through, and saw it standing before him; though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold eyes, he was still incredulous, and fought against his senses.
"Who are you?"

"Ask me who I was."

"Who were you then?" said Scrooge, raising his voice.
"In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley."
"You don't believe in me," observed the Ghost.

"I don't." said Scrooge.

"Why do you doubt your senses?" Marley hissed.
"Because," said Scrooge, "a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"
"Man of the worldly mind!" replied the Ghost, snarling, "do you believe in me or not?"

"I do," said Scrooge. "I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and why do they come to me?"

"It is required of every man," the Ghost returned, "that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world -- oh, woe is me! -- and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!"
"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. your invisible chain was full as heavy and as long as this, seven Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured on it, since. It is a ponderous chain!"

Speak comfort to me, Jacob!" Scrooge implored.
"You will be haunted," resumed the Ghost, "by Three Spirits."
"I -- I think I'd rather not," said Scrooge.
Scrooge had a fitful sleep, tossing and turning, thinking of Marley's last words before he vanished...

"Without their visits," said the Ghost, "you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first at One, the Second at Two, the Third at three. Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!"

The clock tolled one, and Scrooge woke with a start...
Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?" asked Scrooge.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past." The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.
"Long Past?" inquired Scrooge.

"No. Your past." It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently by the arm. "Rise. And walk with me."
I am mortal," Scrooge remonstrated, "and liable to fall."

"Bear but a touch of my hand there," said the Spirit, laying it upon his heart, "and you shall be upheld in more than this."
Good Heaven!" said Scrooge, clasping his hands together, as he looked about him. "I was bred in this place. I was a boy here."

"Your lip is trembling," said the Ghost. "And what is that upon your cheek?"
Scrooge said nothing of consequence.
"The school is not quite deserted," said the Ghost. "A solitary young man, neglected by his friends, is left there still."
"These are but shadows of the things that have been," said the Ghost. "They have no consciousness of us."

"I wish," Scrooge muttered, putting his hand in his pocket, and looking about him, after drying his eyes with his cuff: "but it's too late now."

"What is the matter?" asked the Spirit.

"Nothing," said Scrooge. "Nothing. There was a boy singing a Christmas Carol at my door last night. I should like to have given him something: that's all."
Scrooge's former, much younger self was not reading now, piles of books sat behind him, as he had nothing else to fill his time.

He watched anxiously at the door, It opened; A young girl about his age came darting in, and putting her arms about his neck, and often kissing him, addressed him as her "Dear, dear brother."
"I have come to bring you home, dear brother!" said the young lady, clapping her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. "To bring you home, home, home!"

"Home, little Fan?" returned the young Scrooge.
Yes!" said Fan, brimful of glee. "Home, for good and all. Home, for ever and ever. Father is so much kinder than he used to be, that home's like Heaven! He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I was going to bed, that I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might come home; and he said Yes, you should; and sent me in a coach to bring you. And you're to be a man!" said Fan, opening her eyes, "and are never to come back here; but first, we're to be together all the Christmas long, and have the merriest time in all the world."

The young Scrooge was puzzled. Home?
"You are quite a woman, little Fan!"exclaimed young Scrooge.

She clapped her hands and laughed, and stood on tiptoe to embrace him. Then she began to drag him, in her youthful eagerness, towards the door; and he, nothing loth to go, accompanied her.

A deep voice in the hall cried. "Bring down Master Scrooge's box, there!"
"Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have withered," said the Ghost. "But she had a large heart!"
"So she had," cried Scrooge. "You're right. I'll not gainsay it, Spirit. God forbid!"

"She died a woman," said the Ghost, "and had, as I think, children."
"One child," Scrooge returned.

"True," said the Ghost. "Your nephew!"
Scrooge seemed uneasy in his mind; and answered briefly, "Yes. She died, giving him life."
"As your mother died giving you life, for which your father never forgave you, as if it were your fault..." The ghost said quietly. Scrooge lowered his head.
'Turn and see yourself in love, Ebenezer Scrooge...'

Scrooge gasped, there he was, a young man in the prime of life. His face had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years; he had forgotten he was considered rather dashing at one time.
And there, sitting next to him, was the young lady who had a firm grip on his heart...Alice.
To see her again after all these years sent aches of longing and deep regret through his chest.

"It is only a shilling ring Alice, but I promise you someday it will be a band of gold, when I am rich enough."

"Oh it is beautiful...but I cannot accept it." Alice teased.
"Oh, is it not good enought for you, am I not good enough?" Ebenezer laughed.
"Of course not, but you are still so young, you may have a change of heart!" she replied.
"I shall love you forever my darling Alice. I will never change my mind, and if I do, it is because my heart had ceased to beat..."

"Ebenezer...will you always feel like that?" Alice asked softly.
Ebenezer pulled her into his embrace. "For as long as I live...Longer!"
"Then my love, I accept your ring..." Alice said softly.
"God Bless you Alice, for now until eternity, we two are as one..."
"Spirit!" said Scrooge, "show me no more! Conduct me home. Why do you delight to torture me?" Ebenezer cried, the pain tore through his heart.

"And how did you lose the love of that gentle creature? Another idol had displaced her. Your greed, your averice overtook your heart and pushed Alice out, she was not changed by the harshness of the world...but you were...there is but one more shadow of the past..."
They were back in Scrooge's money-lending hole, Mrs. Dilber had run into the office.

"Pardon me," she said to Bob Cratchit. "I've just come from Mr. Marley's sickbed, I have a message for Mr. Scrooge...Mr. Marley is not expected to live through the night, if Mr. Scrooge wishes to take his leave of him, he better nip along smartly, or there won't be no Mr. Marley to take leave of, as we know it."
Bob Cratchit clucked his tongue in sympathy.
"He is breathing very queer, when he does breathe at all." the woman concluded.
Cratchit went to get off his stool when Scrooge boomed,
"What is all the racket, Cratchit?"

"It's Mr. Marley, sir...he is dying."

"So he is dying, what can I do about it?" Scrooge kept at his paperwork.
"The message was for you to go at once sir..."
"It is a quarter to five, I will go when the business is closed at Seven o'clock, and not before!"
Mrs. Dilber was visibly shocked. She whispered to Bob Cratchit, "I will try to get Mr. Marley to hold out until then, I'm sure. Much obliged, Good-Night to you."
She turned to leave. "And a Merry Christmas, if it is not out of keeping with the situation..."

Bob inclined his head. "Same to you."
Spirit!" said Scrooge in a broken voice, "remove me from this place."

"I told you these were shadows of the things that have been," said the Ghost. "That they are what they are, do not blame me!"

"Remove me!" Scrooge exclaimed, "I cannot bear it, any of it!"
Scrooge found himself back in his bed chamber...alone.
Jacob Marley was his only friend, and partner...he began to sob quietly. His past memories were wretched to witness.
The clock struck two, and Scrooge beheld a strange light from underneath the door, he entered timidly, and there lounging in his plush chair was a spirit, surrounded by delectable foodstuffs.

"Come in!" exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in, and know me better, man. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," said the Spirit. "Look upon me."
"You have never seen the like of me before!" exclaimed the Spirit.

"Never," Scrooge made answer to it.

"Spirit," said Scrooge submissively, "conduct me where you will. I went forth last hour on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working now. To-night, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it."

"Touch my robe."

Scrooge did as he was told, and held it fast.
The spirit showed Scrooge all manner of Christmas cheer, among the poorest occupants of London. The sky was gloomy, and the shortest streets were choked up with a dingy mist, but it did not dampen the joy of the people.

Finally, they found themselves in Camden Town. Scrooge followed the spirit, who led him straight to Scrooge's clerk's. There was Bob Cratchit!
"Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye. And how did Tim behave?"

Bob sat his lame young son by the fire and walked toward his wife. "As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see." Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.
At last the Christmas dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up.
Bob brought out the pitcher with the gin punch. "I'll give you Mr Scrooge, the Founder of the Feast!"

"The Founder of the Feast indeed!" cried Mrs Cratchit, reddening. "I wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and I hope he'd have a good appetite for it."

"My dear," said Bob, "the children. Christmas Day."
"It should be Christmas Day, I am sure," said she, "on which one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr Scrooge. You know he is, Robert. Nobody knows it better than you do, poor fellow."

"My dear," was Bob's mild answer, "Christmas Day."

"I'll drink his health for your sake and the Day's," said Mrs Cratchit, "not for his. Long life to him. A merry Christmas and a happy new year! -- he'll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt!"
The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of their proceedings which had no heartiness. Tiny Tim drank it last of all, but he didn't care twopence for it.

Scrooge was the Ogre of the family. The mention of his name cast a dark shadow on the party, which was not dispelled for full five minutes.
FInally, Bob Cratchit raised his glass once again, to dispel the sudden quiet that had settled over the room. "A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us."

Which all the family re-echoed enthusiastically.

"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.
"Spirit," said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt before,"tell me if Tiny Tim will live."

"I see a vacant seat," replied the Ghost, "in the poor chimney-corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die."

"No, no," said Scrooge. "Oh, no, kind Spirit. Say he will be spared."
"If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race," returned the Ghost, "will find him here. What then? If he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population."

Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief.
They were not a handsome family; they were not well dressed; their shoes were far from being water-proof; their clothes were scanty; But, they were happy, grateful, pleased with one another, and contented with the time; and when they faded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the Spirit's torch at parting, Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny Tim, until the last. Scrooge looked about him for the Spirit, and saw it not. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of old Jacob Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.
The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached.
"I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?" said Scrooge.
"You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us," Scrooge pursued. "Is that so, Spirit?"

The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its folds, as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer he received.
"Ghost of the Future!" he exclaimed, "I fear you more than any spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?"

It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight before them.

"Lead on," said Scrooge. "Lead on. The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit."
But Scrooge was all the worse for this. It thrilled him with a vague uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while he, though he stretched his own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great heap of black.

The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him. Scrooge followed in the shadow of its dress, which bore him up.
They entered poor Bob Cratchit's house; the dwelling he had visited before; and found the mother and the girl seated near the fire.

Quiet. Very quiet. The mother had just read a passage from the bible, Scrooge could not quite place it. She laid the book down, "Hurts my eyes," she said. "They're better now again," said Cratchit's wife. "It makes them weak by candle-light; and I wouldn't show weak eyes to your father when he comes home, for the world. It must be near his time."
Both Mother and daughter glanced over to the stool by the was empty, a small crutch was carefully propped up by the fireplace. Past it rather," the girl answered, "But I think he's walked a little slower than he used, these few last evenings, mother."

They were very quiet again. At last she said, and in a steady, cheerful voice, that only faltered once:

"I have known him walk with -- I have known him walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder, very fast indeed."

"And so have I," cried the girl "Often."

But he was very light to carry," she resumed, "and his father loved him so, that it was no trouble -- no trouble. And there is your father at the door!"
"Don't mind it, father. Don't be grieved." The girl said softly as Bob entered the small parlour, she could see the deep sadness etched on his weary face.

"I am sorry am I late my dear..." Bob said.
"You look so tired, sit by the fire..."
", I am very content my dear. I...I went to see the place where he will rest."

"It is sheltered by green trees my dear, quiet and still." Bob exhaled. "It was strange, while I was standing there, It felt as if his hand slipped into mine, as if he were comforting me. I felt very peaceful my dear. He was telling me you see, in his own little way, that he is happy.
That we must cease to grieve for him, and try to be happy too."
Bob stood, he could hold it back no longer. "My Tim! My tiny Tim!!"

Mrs. Cratchit stood at once, her arm around her husband's heaving shoulders. "My poor, poor Robert."

Scrooge's heart tightened at the sight of Bob and his family, grieving, in mourning...they slowly began to fade from view...
They appeared in the exchange house, the spirit stopped beside two merchants deep in conversation.

I don't know much about it, either way. I only know he's dead."

"When did he die?" inquired the gentleman with the beard.

"Last night, I believe." The man yawned.

"What has he done with his money?"
"I haven't heard," said the man , yawning again. "Left it to his company, perhaps. He hasn't left it to me. That's all I know."

This pleasantry was received with a general laugh.
"It's likely to be a very cheap funeral," said the same speaker; "for upon my life I don't know of anybody to go to it.

"I don't mind going if a lunch is provided," observed the gentleman. "But I must be fed." More laughter.

Scrooge knew the men, and looked towards the Spirit for an explanation.
Instead the ghost took Scrooge to a part of the city quarter that reeked with crime, with filth, and misery.
In the back of a ragpickers shop, three people were deep in conversation.

"What odds then. What odds, Mrs Dilber." said the undertaker. "Every person has a right to take care of themselves. He always did."
That's true, indeed," said Mrs. Dilber. "No man more so."
"Why then, don't stand staring as if you was afraid, woman; who's the wiser? We're not going to pick holes in each other's coats, I suppose?"
"Very well, then!" cried the woman. "Who's the worse for the loss of a few things like these? Not a dead man, I suppose."
"If he wanted to keep them after he was dead, a wicked old screw," pursued the woman, "why wasn't he natural in his lifetime? If he had been, he'd have had somebody to look after him when he was struck with Death, instead of lying gasping out his last there, alone by himself."

"It's the truest word that ever was spoke," Said the undertaker. "It's a judgment on him."
"I wish it was a little heavier judgment," replied the woman; "and it should have been, you may depend upon it, if I could have laid my hands on anything else. Open that bundle, old Joe, and let me know the value of it. Speak out plain. I'm not afraid to be the first, nor afraid for them to see it. We know pretty well that we were helping ourselves, before we met here, I believe. It's no sin. Open the bundle, Joe."

Joe looked over the contents and declared, "7 and 6, and I wouldn't give another sixpence, if I was to be boiled for not doing it."
The undertaker was next, Sheets and towels, a little wearing apparel, two old-fashioned silver teaspoons, a pair of sugar-tongs, and a few boots. The men haggled... "He frightened every one away from him when he was alive, to profit us when he was dead. Ha, ha, ha!"

Scrooge listened to this dialogue in horror. As they sat grouped about their spoil, in the scanty light afforded by the old man's lamp, he viewed them with a detestation and disgust, which could hardly have been greater, though they demons, marketing the corpse itself.
"Who is the poor unfortunate man of whom they speak?"
The ghost soon led Scrooge to the cemetery.
Here, then, the wretched man whose name he had now to learn, lay underneath the ground.
A crack of lightening lit up the bleak, night sky, an icy sleet began to fall.
The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down to One. He advanced towards it trembling. The Phantom was exactly as it had been, but he dreaded that he saw new meaning in its solemn shape.

"Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point," said Scrooge, "answer me one question. Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?"
Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it stood.

"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead," said Scrooge. "But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me."

Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went; and following the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name, EBENEZER SCROOGE.
"No, Spirit! Oh no, no!"

"Spirit!" he cried, "hear me. I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope?"

The spirit did not reply.
"I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!"

Holding up his hands in a last prayer to have his fate aye reversed, he saw an alteration in the Phantom's hood and dress. It shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled down into a bedpost.
He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions, that his broken voice would scarcely answer to his call. He had been sobbing violently in his conflict with the Spirit, and his face was wet with tears.
"Why, it is morning!" Scrooge declared.
"I don't know what to do!" cried Scrooge, laughing and crying in the same breath, "I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a schoolboy!"
Running to the window, he opened it, "What's to-day, my fine fellow?" said Scrooge to a young lad below.

"To-day?" replied the boy. "Why, Christmas Day."
"Do you know the Poulterer's, in the next street but one, at the corner?" Scrooge inquired.

"I should hope I did," replied the lad.

"An intelligent boy!" said Scrooge. "A remarkable boy! Do you know whether they"ve sold the prize Turkey that was hanging up there -- Not the little prize Turkey: the big one?"
"What, the one as big as me?" returned the boy.
"Come back with the man, and I'll give you a shilling!"

"I'll send it to Bon Cratchit's!" whispered Scrooge, rubbing his hands, and splitting with a laugh. "He shan't know who sends it. It's twice the size of Tiny Tim!"

Scrooge dressed in his best finery and headed to his nephew's. Shown in by the housekeeper, he called out rather loudy, "Fred!"

Dear heart alive, how his niece by marriage started. Scrooge had forgotten, for the moment, about her sitting in the corner with the footstool, or he wouldn't have done it, on any account.

"Why bless my soul!" cried Fred," who's that?"
Scrooge walked into the parlour. "It's I. Your uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner."
Fred beamed. "Uncle Ebenezer! I am delighted!" He turned to his young wife. "My dear, look who it is!"
"Can you forgive a pig-headed old fool with no eyes to see with, no ears to hear with all these years?" Scrooge said to the young couple humbly.

"Bless you, dear Uncle, you have made Fred so happy!" The young bride landed an affectionate kiss on Scrooge's wrinkled cheek.

One of the guests started playing a polka. "Go on Uncle Ebenezer..." Fred encouraged.
Ebenezer looked to his young neice-in-law. He placed a hand on her should affectionately. "Shall we shown them how it is done?"
She smiled and nodded. Scrooge soon was dancing!

Never had Scrooge had such a time, Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness!
Scrooge made it in to his money-lenders office a few minutes early, checking his fob, he laughed softly, Bob Cratchit was late!!

He took his seat, and kept glancing up at the door, finally he heard the hurried footsteps, and Bob Cratchit burst through the door.
"Hallo," growled Scrooge, in his accustomed voice, as near as he could feign it. "What do you mean by coming here at this time of day? You are late!"

"I'm very sorry, sir," said Bob. "I am behind my time."

"You are?" repeated Scrooge. "Yes. I think you are. Step this way, if you please."
It's only once a year, sir," pleaded Bob, "It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir."

"Ha!" Scrooge spat. "I am sure you were!"
Scrooge stood and walked toward Bob Cratchit. "Well, we are not going to beat about the bush any longer, the time has come, Bob Cratchit..."

Poor Bob was trembling...
"I am not going to stand for this sort of thing. And therefore," he continued, and giving Bob such a dig in the waistcoat that he staggered back; "and therefore I am about to raise your salary."

Bob Cratchit looked shocked, stricken even, was Mr. Scrooge having a cruel jest?
But then, seeing the genuine warmth on Mr. Scrooge's face, Bob smiled.
"I haven't taken leave of my senses Bob, I have come to them." Scrooge said gently.

A merry Christmas, Bob," said Scrooge, with an earnestness that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. "A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year. I'll raise your salary, and endeavour to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of punch Bob. Make up the fires, and buy another coal-scuttle before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit!" Scrooge was better than his word.
He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world.
He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father.

Tiny Tim barely had a limp now, thanks to Scrooge getting the best doctors. The boy ran toward him, "Uncle Scrooge!" he cried happily.

And it was always said of Scrooge, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge.

May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!

Other Stories


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#58loverienFeb 16, 2009

That was outstanding, Karen! I love this story. It's a family favorite of ours to watch every year. You told the story so well! The screenshots were fabulous! Our favorite version is the 1970 musical "Scrooge". My favorite part is during the visitation of the third spirit when it shows Scrooge how the townspeople celebrate his possible future death. They rip up their debts and start to dance in the street, singing, "Thank you very much! That's the nicest thing you've ever done for me!" And of course, I love Tiny Tim - how he says, "God bless us, every one!" \:D

#59YrS92Mar 7, 2009

Nice work, very beautifully done\:D

#60KvetoslavaMar 16, 2009


#61ice_loveAug 16, 2009

Greate story. I really like the ending of it.\:wub\:

#62Simsfreak124558Sep 17, 2009

Scrooge! \:wub\:  I love the story (A)

#63cuteykittenNov 15, 2009

Scrooge looks hot, though he's a grouchy guy \:D

#64thesims2rules123Dec 11, 2010

Amazing story!I loved it 5 stars!And Merry Christmas to all!\:\)

#65oldmember_lucianna88Oct 21, 2011


#66legendarypinkdotMar 22, 2012

:wub\:one of my favs.  You did a great job with the pictures.

#67lekunzeMar 9, 2019


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