A Blogger Christmas Carol
A cranky, though underratedly handsome man named Ebepeter Scrooge sits in his office, going over his sitemeter stats by candlelight. His assistant, Ben Cratchit, enters. “Mr. Scrooge, it’s pretty cold in here. I mean, I look good in layers, but still.”
“Is that, like, an answer?”
“My latest word doodle didn’t get enough hits.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t written about “selling Christmas trees for lumber” people could have appreciated it more–”
“Your nephew Matt is here.”
Matt enters, as Ben leaves. Matt looks nothing like Scrooge, really, and like he could be from Colorado or someplace equally as sketchy. “Uncle Ebepeter, I’d like to invite you to our Christmas party.”
“Oh… is that so? Will there be lots of food and music and laughter?”
“Bah! I hate that shit.”
“But… I just… I’m glad you are sucking it in our fantasy football league!”
“You know, I really should just get a sign that says that,” Ebepeter thinks outloud.
Ebepeter Scrooge is at home now. He is working on a blog post.
“I hear chains rattling.”
He hears chains rattling.
Oh. You know that already.
In through his study door walks…
Ashley Marley. His old blog partner.
This is especially odd, as she had died many years before and almost never drops by anymore.
She is all… you know, ghosty and see-through. And she’s carrying ghost-y and see-through chains.
“Am I having a stroke?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Oh… Yeah. I’m a ghost now.”
“You’re probably wondering about the chains?”
“Not gonna lie, that’s pretty low on the list of things I’m wondering about.”
“I have been cursed to walk the earth carrying these heavy chains.”
“It is punishment for being all evil and blog-obsessed when I was alive.”
“You also frequently ate the last muffin and never bought more,” Scrooge added.
“Be that as it may… YOU, Ebepeter are going down the same route.”
“Man… you look pale.”
“If you don’t mend your ways…”
“Honestly. So washed out.”
“Hey! I was a redhead, what do you– You must learn the meaning of life.”
“No sun at all in the after world?”
“I see this is not working. You will be visited by three apparitions this very night. Hopefully they can help you… before it’s too late.”
“A spray tan even?”
As Ashley Marley disappears, “Priiiick.”
Ebepeter springs up from his slumber and starts jotting down notes for a blog post. Satisfied, he climbs back into bed. He starts to get comfortable when before his eyes appears a glowing form, sitting on the foot of the bed.
It is a female.
“So, hi, I’m The Ghost of Christmas Past.”
“And why wouldn’t you be?”
“I’m here to show you– Damn. It’s cold in here. I’m gonna freeze my vagina off.”
“Seriously. Frozen vagina. It’s not good.”
“Christmas Past, you say?”
“Yeah… yeah. Provided I can still move with this frosty vagina situation.”
“I’m confused… So your vagina… It’s cold?”
“YES! Wanna see it?”
She grabs him by the hand and drags him off and through a wall.
They find themselves in an apartment. But they are not alone.
A young — though equally handsome — Ebepeter Scrooge is sitting on a a couch. A beautiful woman walks in, wearing nothing but a hockey jersey. The Ebepeters say “Wow” simultaneously.
“You look a little stunned,” The Ghost of Christmas Past says.
“A little… It’s my ex-fiancee MeganBelle,” Ebepeter replies without taking his eyes off the cuddly scene unfolding.
“I’d forgotten how gorgeous she is. Stunning, really.”
“Hey, now. Before I was a ghost, I was very pretty.”
“Look at this ass!”
“That was the Christmas I set her up with Google Adwords for Christmas. She was not impressed. Weird, right?”
“Yeah, it’s a head scratcher.”
“She left me because I blogged too much. I want to talk to her.”
“But I miss her.”
“Time to go.”
Ebepeter is suddenly alone in his bed. All sadfaced.
Ebepeter is still awake. Staring at his ceiling.
Suddenly another female spirit is beside him, staring up at the ceiling.
“What are you looking at?”
“Lemme guess… You’re a ghost.”
“They didn’t trust you enough for time travel?”
“It’s a union thing.”
“Damn them. Gonna show me something?”
“Can I pee first?”
She grabs him by the hand and they are off.
They fly through the streets of… wherever Ebepeter lives.
They arrive at The Cratchit home.
Ben and his family are celebrating the holiday in style. It is clearly a house full of love. And children.
Everyone gathers around the smallest child…
She coughs. Everyone runs to her side.
“Is she sick?” Ebepeter asks.
“What… What is it?”
“Oh. It’s just, you know, general malaise. But it’s pretty severe. So that sucks.”
“So, Ebepeter… Are you starting to see it? Are you starting to see how it all ties together? Beauty and peace and love. How they flow through us and into others. How there are universal truths and real-ness. How we must cure what cannot be endured. How we do not do, we only be. And we can not be, unless we do. And–”
“The fuck are you talking about?”
“Oh you’re a pain in the ass. Maybe the third ghost will have better luck with you.”
She snaps her ghost fingers and they disappear. (Her and Scrooge, not her fingers. Though that would be pretty nifty.)
Ebepeter watches a Snuggie infomercial when another sparkly female form appears in front of him.
“Ghost of A Week Ago Tuesday?”
“Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, smart ass.”
“Damn. Am I in Canada?”
“Ewww. Anyway, I’m gonna show you a future Christmas and scare you straight and shit.”
“The other ghosts took me by the hand.”
“Get your jollies someplace else, fella.”
Suddenly they are in the middle of a dark room. The only light is from the glow of a giant computer monitor.
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come begins typing. “Should have bookmarked this shit…”
The screen is full of spam ads. Mostly for Viagra.
“What am I looking at?”
“This is your blog, Ebepeter. Or it was.”
“What? That can’t be…”
“Nothing but boner pills now, buddy.”
“I.. It’s just… Uhm, so you know, I don’t need those things. Never did.”
“What about the time in college?”
“I was stressed over midterms!!!!”
“Mmmmhmmm. Know what is better than those pills? Me in this ghost dress. Check out the cleavage. My boobs look spectacular. Wanna touch ’em?””
Ebepeter shrugs and reaches out.
His hand, of course, passes right through boobage.
“I’m a ghost, silly.”
“Well that’s just mean.”
“Hee hee hee”
Ebepeter stares at the address in the bar of the browser. It is his blog url.
Then he looks at the garish flashing ads. He shudders.
“Blogs are temporary, Ebepeter.”
“All the time I wasted. All that time…”
And then he is alone in his bed.
It is morning.
He runs to the window.
He sees a young woman in a leopard print coat walking by.
“What day is this, young lady?”
“Buy a fucking calendar.”
He gets dressed quickly.
There is a knocking on the door, and Ben Cratchit answers it.
He is shocked to see Ebepeter standing there, with gifts in hand.
“Merry Christmas, Ben! And… family of Ben. These meager gifts are for your children.”
Little Jenn takes the bag from his hand.
“If there’s no Mario Kart in here, I’m gonna slap a bitch,” she murmurs to herself.
The three children begin opening the gifts.
Ben’s wife hands Ebepeter a glass of eggnog.
Ebepeter leans into Ben, “Is your wife a dude?”
“We’ll talk later.”
Ebepeter and Ben and his wife chat. The kids open gifts.
Little Alexa asks, “Is this shirt a floral print? Really?”
Tiny Sarah begins playing Christmas Carols on the piano.
Everyone walks over to join her.
Ebepeter grabs Ben by the arm, “Did you know that ghosts are kinda cock tease-y?”