Marley was dead…dead as a doornail

So begins Charlie’s festive tale.

‘Give to the poor your ill-gotten gain

For you, Old Scrooge, are a right-royal-pain!

Learn to do good with that which remains

Or walk eternity bound in chains.

Tonight, Penny-pincher, you’ll be visited by three.

Heed their warning or in hell join me.’

Such was Marley’s warning to Scrooge—

This Karmic time-bomb his to defuse.

When the clock struck twelve that Christmas Eve

His senses Scrooge did disbelieve:

Before him appeared a pimple-faced sprite

With a perilous warning, cold as frostbite:

‘I am the ghost of Christmas past.’

Said she to Scrooge’s flabbergast.

Choking on his whisky mug

Scrooge spat back, ‘Bah-humbug!’

To this the sprite yelled, ‘Listen, you miser

I am your miserable fate’s reviser!

Sent here to help you right your path

Quit turfing out orphans, you sociopath!’

Hand in hand down memory lane

The sprite showed Scrooge he’d wrought great pain.

The second to challenge Scrooge’s worldview

Was a giant that came when the clock struck two:

‘I am the ghost of Christmas present.

Neither card nor gift have you yet sent—

Start writing and gifting, you Skinflint—repent.’

Before him appeared the Cratchet kin,

Among them the sickly Tiny Tim.

At the coldest heart could that dear boy paw

But not one degree did Scrooge’s heart thaw.

The ghost of Christmas Yet to Come

But pointed only to a crumbled headstone

Untended, unremembered, and overgrown.

Upon the stone Scrooge read his own name…

But walled and icy was his heart

So came his riposte quick and smart

‘Casper, you must all think me a mug!

You’re the effect of a hallucinogenic drug.

Administered, no doubt, by rival landlords—

Here’s a penny, buy some vocal chords!’

Heads then tails spun through the air

Until Scrooge awoke in his wingback chair.

Neither hindsight nor love rewrote his tale

Avarice won out, his great white whale.

And so chose Scrooge for what remains

Sealing his fate—eternity in chains.

Image Credit:
Chad Madden / Unsplash.com