THE LAST XISTMAS CAROL

by nu-monet

Dave Cratchitt was not looking forward to going to work
this Christmas Eve morning. In fact, he wouldn't have
been looking forward to working at the "Rewind Video"
store even if it had been a warm day in May. But as he
looked out the window of his dreary apartment at the
cold, grey, phlegm-colored sky, then down to the soot
covered slush on the street, he was stirred by the
knowledge that if he called in sick again he would
certainly be fired.

So he grudgingly dressed in his colorful, if tattered
"Rewind Video" uniform, ate some runny eggs and burnt
toast for breakfast, then cursed and ground the starter
of his decrepit car until it finally kicked over. Even
his drive into work pissed him off, road construction
and traffic snarls doing their part to ruin his day
before it had even begun.

"About damn time you showed up!" said his boss, Mr.
Scrooge, "You're five minutes late! I'm not paying you
to slack off, so get to work on the register." He
finished by telling Cratchitt that Christmas Eve was
always a slow day, so he would be working solo, but
warned him "that I might come by later, to see how
you're doing, and if I catch you slacking off, I'm
going to fire your ass!"

"Well, at least the bastard was right", thought
Cratchitt, as several hours later, only a few people
came by, and then only to drop off tapes in the outside
slot before speeding away, "today is boring as shit."

But just then his wristwatch beeped, and he looked at
the time.

Eleven o'clock. "Damn," he thought, "it's so cloudy
and nasty out that it could be eleven at night and I
couldn't tell the difference." But just then, he heard
the cheery `tinkle-tinkle' of the doorbell, so he took
his feet off the counter, set down his coffee, and
feigned a greeting.

"Good mor..." was all he could get out before stopping
in surprise. For what had just come through the door was
not a regular customer, but a strange and unearthly
apparition, one that left him speechless. It was a
tanned, bikini-wearing, beach babe with long, flowing
blonde hair!

"Can I, uh, help you, uh, miss?" was all he could blurt
out.

"Why, hi there!" she giggled. "Don't you remember me?
I'm the spirit of Alice, the girl who offered to give
you a lift to southern California last summer. I just
came by to let you know what you missed out on! Wow!
Let me tell you. It's just an endless party out here.
And you could've stayed at my place! And I've met all
these really cute girls, and gosh, I wish you were
here, 'cause it would have been so much neater having
you help us put on baby oil and stuff!"

"uh, guh." was all that Dave Cratchitt could say.

"Oh, well anyway," she continued, "I'm supposed to tell
you that three spirits are going to come by today,
starting at noon. Well, be seeing you!" and she left,
with only the "luuuussseerrr" sound of the wind rushing
through the closing door.

"Wo, dude!" said Cratchitt to himself, "what the hell
was in that coffeepot?" not believing he had seen
anything other than a hallucination brought on by some
banned pesticide having been used on the beans.

But needless to say, he was pretty apprehensive about
the approach of the noon hour. Apprehensive, that is,
until his stomach reminded him of his approaching
lunchtime, which ripped the spirit's warning right out
of his underdeveloped memory.

As the hour struck, he was already halfway through his
braunschweiger and cheese sandwich, when the door's
'tinkle-tinkle' again sounded.

Instantly his skin crawled, for immediately after the
door shut he heard a voice that had not troubled him
since many years before in high school. "Mister Cratch-
itt!" said the screetchy, irritating female voice, "I
hope that you have a excuse this time!"

"Eek! Mrs. Crapworth!" Dave shouted, before correcting
himself, "Uh, I mean Mrs. Crabworth!"

"You haven't changed ONE BIT since the fifth grade,
young man!" she chided. "Still the class slacker!
Never on time! Always disheveled!"

"Uh, uh." was all Cratchitt could blurt out.

"And you're WRONG, as usual. I'm just the spirit of
Mrs. Crabworth, here to convey to you all the poor
choices and missed goals of Christmas's past. And,
believe you me, are you going to get an earful." And
so she did, bringing up every little mistake or error
of judgement Dave felt he had ever made, until he was
curled up in a little ball behind the counter, trying
to plug his ears and sobbing in embarrassment.

She even mentioned his adolescent confusion at the
monkey house at the zoo, an event that had resulted in
his being barred for life.

His emotional turmoil was so great that much time had
passed before he realized that the spirit had long
since gone, leaving behind only a faint odor of chalk
dust. "Man, that really sucked" he said to himself,
only then realizing that it was now two o'clock.

"Oh shit!" he said, but barely had the words left his
mouth when the door swung open. "Hey man," said a
familiar voice, "you still got any copies of 'Anal
Intruders XVII' in stock?"

Dave Cratchitt jumped to his feet. "Kevin!?" he said
"What the hell are you doing in town?" It was his
older brother Kevin!

"Whoa, chill out dickhead! I'm only the spirit of
Kevin!" it said, then grabbed Dave in a headlock long
enough to give him a fearsome wedgie.

"Ow, fuck, man!" said Dave. "God, you are such an
asshole. Why is everybody in my fucking family such
fucking assholes?"

"Get over it, said the spirit. "Mom and dad probably
adopted you anyway. Whatever. I am here to tell you
what a great time everybody is having back home. Now
that you are gone, folks are having the best sex
ever..."

"Ewwww", said Dave.

"Don't interrupt", chided the spirit, then continuing,
"...I have a really good job and am making tons of money.
I got married to a great girl and folks love her and
we're going to have smart and beautiful kids. Whereas,
in your case, you are going to die alone and in
poverty, and folks are going to scratch out your name
in the family geneology and write, 'died at birth'."

"Hey! Fuck you, man!" Dave shouted out, red faced and
eyes full of tears, before realizing that the spirit
had left as abruptly as the others. But the rage he
felt inside was too great to contain, and he actually
looked forward to the last spirit, so he would have
someone to vent his anger on.

Three o'clock. Dave waited by the door, with a
baseball bat kept to fend off robbers, but nobody came.
After a while, he set the bat down and collapsed in his
chair, his head in his hands. Then, about a quarter to
four, he heard the `tinkle-tinkle' again.

Dave Cratchitt looked up. Standing in front of the
counter was a man who he had never seen before. "Uh,
can I help you, sir?" asked Dave, but the man just
continued to grin at him.

"Uh, pardon me, sir" said Dave, "but there's no smoking
allowed in the store", a reference to the pipe Dave
only now realized was unlit, that was clenched between
the teeth of the grinning man.

The standoff continued with Dave asking progressively
briefer queries as to what the man wanted, and the man
just continuing to grin. Finally, he just blurted out
"What!?", but the man made no response. Combined with
all the trauma that had happened before, Dave's
exhaustion finally caught up with him and he collapsed.

He awoke to find Mr. Scrooge standing over him, red
faced. "I suppose you mean to tell me that you were
robbed and you just FAINTED?" he said. "That is
unacceptable, young man! If you keep up this slacking
then you are fired!"

Dave exploded. "WELL FUCK YOU, YOU ASSHOLE! YOU CAN
TAKE THIS FUCKING JOB AND FUCK YOURSELF WITH IT! I
DON'T NEED THIS SHIT! I FUCKING NEED TO *SLACK OFF*!"
And saying that, he stomped out of the door, hearing
that annoying 'tinkle-tinkle' sound for the last time.

And once he was out on the street, ankle deep in slush,
he suddenly thought he knew what that funny, grinning
pipe-man was trying to say. And he was pretty sure it
had something to do with southern California. And
slacking off.

"Well, Merry Fucking Christmas to me!" he said with a
grin and a lift in his step, "and everybody else can
just go fuck themselves good night!"

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Original file name: The Last Xistmas Carol - converted on Friday, 29 June 2001, 22:36