Christmas Carol

It was Christmas day and we admired the goose which was going to be our feast. It only had one leg, so my darling wife had got it cheap. How we and our six children would enjoy it, with three potatoes each! The Christmas pudding was already bubbling in the pot.

There was a merry fire, for the coalman had given us an extra sack out of the kindness of his heart, as he did every year and had done at the birth of each child. I resolved to call upon him later, for he only delivered when I was at work, and his generosity deserved proper thanks. Though we were poor, we were never cold.

Yet I had to go on urgent business, and my wife was not best pleased.

"Bob Cratchit!" she exclaimed. "You spend six days a week in the company of that skinflint for a pittance, now you are going on Christmas day itself! What on earth has got into you? The children are dressed in their best rags, expecting you to take them to press their noses against the windows of the toyshop and the sweetshop, and we were all looking forward to standing outside the church listening to the gentry singing their songs of Christian love."

"My dear," I replied, "I fear we may have misjudged Mr Scrooge. I had a dream or vision last night which I think compels me to go and offer him charity and forgiveness."

She was not happy, but I had nevertheless set out. As I had expected, he was at his office, not at his home.

It was with some trepidation that I entered and gave my message of good cheer.

"Bah, humbug!" he said with a scowl on his face.

"I see the exigencies of finance have persuaded you to come in after all. But I shall give you no more than thruppence an hour this day, no matter what the colour of the calendar."

"Mr Scrooge," I said, "did you have a vision last night? For I surely did, and learned something about you."

I could see by his face that he was shocked. He sat down abruptly.

"Was it the spirits of Christmas present and Christmas future?" I asked.

He gasped.

"How did you know?"

"Because I had a visit from the spirit of Christmas past. Let me tell you what I saw."

He just nodded, so I began my tale.

I had been awoken by a ghostly voice saying "Ebenezer Scrooge, Ebenezer Scrooge!" and sat up from my bed to see an old man wearing a holly wreath. Neither my wife beside me, nor the children beside us and at the other end of our blanket seemed to notice.

Strangely I was not frightened, thinking that it was a good apparition.

"Thou art a miser, and a heartless man. I am the first of three spirits to show thee the error of thy ways, and what thou must do to mend them. In particular must thou treat thy clerk, Bob Cratchit with true human kindness."

I was more than surprised.

"But I am Bob Cratchit, not Ebenezer Scrooge!" I cried. Still my family slumbered.

"No, you're not!" he said, looking startled. "You're Ebenezer Scrooge, and I am the spirit of Christmas Past."

"I am!" I retorted. "There must be some mistake!"

"Nice try, Ebenezer, but you can't trick me like that. Us spirits don't make mistakes."

"I am the first of three spirits this night. I will be followed by Christmas Present and Christmas Future."

I noticed he had stopped saying 'thou'.

Despite my protestations he showed me Scrooge's unhappy time at school and how he had failed to marry a nice girl that his parents wanted. Finally, with a Christmas of five years ago, I saw something I would not have believed.

It was just before I had joined the firm, and he was happy, dancing with a woman by a blazing fire. Soon their dancing turned to embraces and then the maid was on her knees opening his breeches. For a long time she sucked his manhood until his face contorted in joy. What a difference from the sour prude that I knew!

Then the maid turned and I realised in amazement that it was Jacob Marley, whom I recognised from a portrait. It was little wonder that he had been so distressed by his partner's death and had needed to hire a clerk.

"You really don't remember this?" said the spirit.

"No, sweet ghost!" I answered. "I am not the man shown here as you should plainly see. I am Cratchit, not Scrooge, and twenty years younger."

He disappeared, muttering "Fucking angels!"

It was this that convinced me I should go to my employer this Christmas time.

"Mr Scrooge," I said, "now I understand your sorrow, I forgive you your harsh treatment, and I want to give you a Christmas present."

He was taken aback, but slightly recovered his stern demeanour.

"And what can you, a penniless clerk, give me?"

"I wish to suck your cock, Mr Scrooge. I used to like sucking cocks, but my wife made me stop when we got married. I do not care to play the part of a husband, but rather a wife, yet she insists I do my duty occasionally. Despite the infrequency, we have been blessed with six children. In the privacy of our office, I would be glad to do it each day, and if you will let me wear a dress sometimes, that would be a boon as well, as my wife's will not fit me."

He started crying.

"Oh Bob," he said, "I am sorry I treated you so harshly. It is because I began to long for you, and it was my way of keeping you at a safe distance."

He locked the office and we retreated to a back room, where we embraced and kissed. Before long I was on my knees with his cock in my mouth. It had been so long for both of us. Oh, the joy of that firm warm meat, and the blessings of his seed on my tongue!

"Oh, Bob!" he said, my mouth still filled with him. "This is the best Christmas ever! You can suck my cock every day, and I will make you a partner in the firm. Now I will give you two guineas to buy a feast for your family."

So it was that we had a fine Christmas, and Mr Scrooge became a kindly uncle to my family. It has been agreed that my boys can be apprenticed to learn the arts of usury, and my daughters have hopes of becoming mistresses to bankers and financiers. He gave my wife a fine gift in the form of a kitchen pestle, of the Italian style known as dildo, and she was much pleased.

I did indeed visit the coalman. At Mr Scrooge's behest, I was accompanied by Mr Bill Sykes, a collection agent for debts, and it was agreed that the coalman can continue to serve my wife providing he takes any future children, so we always have a good fire.

I am glad to be relieved of my marital obligation.

We now have a hovel with two extra rooms, one as a bedroom for our sons and one for our daughters. No longer do we share a mattress on the floor, but an actual bed in each room.

Each morning at work the day starts well for both of us with a good cock sucking. Twice a week I have supper in Scrooge's rooms in one of the fine dresses belonging to the late Jacob Marley. I am so pleased to serve the woman's part in bed afterwards. I suppose it is then that the coalman makes his delivery, although Tiny Tim now seems to me to resemble the milkman.

Mr Scrooge said that a Christmas future showed him with a fine mistress he now recognises as me. We will do this once my eldest son has taken over my job, and the other children are settled.

In celebration of our special Christmas time, dear Ebenezer calls me Carol.