View Full Version : A Dirky Christmas Carol

12-14-2007, 07:37 AM
For what I am about to post, may the Lord make me truly sorry ...! :oops:

12-14-2007, 07:48 AM
A Dirky Christmas Carol
by Charles Dirkens

Tracy Cratchitt was sat at her desk at ScroogeCentral blowing her fingers to try to keep warm. The door flew open letting cold mountain air in. Dirk Scrooge came in and closed the door with one foot as his arms were full of chopped wood. The cold draft made Cratchitt shiver even more.

"Bbbrrrrrr!. Are these bbbbb the bbbbb logs you promised me?" She said trying to stop her teeth from chattering.

"B-logs?" said Scrooge a little confused.

"No, I meant logs."

"Yes," Scrooge said cheerily. Chopping wood always cheered him up. As he often liked to remind himself, a wood stove warmed a body 3 times; once when you chopped the wood, second when you carried the wood back to the stove, and lastly when the wood burned. And best of all, the wood was free from behind his office. Free - his favourite price.

"Are you sure we need to light the stove now?" said Scrooge still warm from his outdoor exertions.

"Yes, yes," Cratchitt urged. Scrooge put a log in the stove and lit the match. POOF! The log soon went up in smoke and disappeared, so he added a few more and soon the office was warming up nicely. Cratchitt went back to her daily routine of disposing of lewd porn adverts that seemed to inundate ScroogeCentral, and the occasional innane question from the odd (and sometimes crazy) Scrooge fandom. After awhile Cratchitt ventured to enquire about her Christmas bonus, times were hard and every penny counted.

"I was thinking of doubling your salary for Christmas," Scrooge replied.

"Double!' Cratchitt was astounded. "Double of nothing is still nothing," she said gloomily.

Scrooge had forgotten he didn't pay Cratchitt anything. A little embarrassed he mumbled, "Well, I'll sort something out." Cratchitt was a great asset to his operations at ScroogeCentral and fearing further discussions might cause an argument (he hated arguments), Scrooge decided to go home early.

He had been feeling a bit queer for a few days since Ian, his new neighbour, had moved in next door, and he didn't want to fall ill. Scrooge didn't like doctors and avoided them if he could. As he reached his front door, his queeriness took hold again and he held on tight to the big protruding knob to stop himself falling down. He stared at the two large knockers in front of him and slowly his focus returned to see one brass one. But as he continued looking at it, the knocker began to change shape ... After a moment Scrooge looked in horror as his late partner, Bob Marley, loomed at him.

Bob Marley, Scrooge's late partner

"This would be a great show for Most Haunted," thought Scrooge.


12-14-2007, 08:07 AM
I wait with bated breath... not too long tho or I will go :oops:

12-15-2007, 05:49 PM
Thx Lil - it's my first long piece of Dirktion. :oops:
You better go to the loo now as I'm still working out my cast list for the rest of it - and hoping I've not upset anyone round here! :shock: :cry:

12-16-2007, 05:59 PM
I'm waiting to see if Cratchit gets her Xmas bonus ;)

12-23-2007, 06:49 AM
A Dirky Christmas Carol
by Charles Dirkens

Part Two

Scrooge quickly entered his home and bolted the front door behind him. Had that really been his late partner, Marley, he had seen? Scrooge decided to ignore whatever 'it' had been and made himself some pine nut gruel for supper instead.

He spent the night going over the day's newspapers, analysing how his 'celebrity' antics had been reported and how to spin out his latest stories for a few more headlines. Tabloid interest in him had started to wane since his conniving antics on 'Dance with a Star' had left competitor Anne Robinson with a broken ankle. He was slipping (a bit like she'd done after he'd smeared duck fat all over the stage, he mused). He had only been front-page news in two of the tabloids today. Once he had been front page news in all of them, each with slight variations on a story, with 'helpful' quotes from 'sources close to' Scrooge, in reality Scrooge himself. 'Dance with a star' had been months ago and had been quite hard work. He needed to be in another reality show soon otherwise people would forget who he was. He pondered whether 'Jungle Japes' or 'Salon Salaciousness' was the better choice for him, he was known for his gun-toting cigar munching image, so perhaps the latter would be a change in people's perception of him. How hard could it be to preen around as a hair stylist to the rich and famous. And it would be a great chance to flirt outrageously with the pretty Clientele (she was a blond silly air-head, but an ideal date if one wanted to hit the celebrity headlines). Scrooge, like Marley before him, was obsessed with celebrityness for celebrity's sake, that is being famous for nothing. Postive or negative stories, it didn't matter to Scrooge. The National Enquirer, the Daily Sport, Hello, Heat and Scrooge's favourite 'Hell A' magazine were all that mattered to him.

It was dark now and Scrooge didn't want to waste money on unnecessary heating and lighting, so he went to bed planning to rise with Dawn. As he fell asleep he began to hear a loud clanking. Must be his neighbour Ian, thought Scrooge to himself half-asleep. Ian had said he was having a 'dungeon party' that night and Scrooge was most welcome to come. Scrooge had declined the offer, uncertain of the pleasures a good whipping might induce! The clanking seem to get louder and closer and Scrooge tried to open his eyes. Was he awake or dreaming, he wasn't sure. Then suddenly Scrooge was awake and floating in front of him was the image of his former partner, Bob Marley.

Scrooge admired Marley immensley. After a shoot-out with some county cops, Marley had dominated prime-time news for 3 hours with a slow freeway car-chase across California. It had been the highest rated live news event that decade! After a costly and highly watched trial, Marley had been found guilty of the murder of the two policemen. Years on death row had only seemed to heighten his infammy until finally his sentence was commuted by the State Governator hoping to add a few populist votes to his swing margin. Unfortunately on release from prison, Marley was run over by a stolen greyhound bus driven by a stoned Keanu Reeves. Not the best way to go, but at least Marley's death would rank up alongside Jayne Mansfield's for goriness.

'Scrooge. I bring you sad tidings,' said Marley. 'Unless you change your ways and let go of this obsession with celebrity headlines and celebrity freebies, you will end up like me ... doomed to walk the world until the end of time watching chavs and pikeys bask in the golden hue of adoration that we once deserved. Scrooge was appalled, he had met some of these types and was certain of one thing in life - they didn't deserve any notice by the general public at all. Whatever else happened, Scrooge couldn't let such low-lifes live the high life.

'Scrooge, you have one chance to save yourself, and the planet, from chavilisation. You will be visited by three more spirits before this night is out,' said Marley turning to depart.

'Wait!' called out Scrooge. 'Tell me, please. I've gotta know. Did you do it?'

Marley spun back round and his eyes fizzed with rage. 'I'll tell you what I told everyone from the beginning. I shot the Sherriff, but I did not shoot no deputy.' Marley's image began to shrink and it seemed he was being pulled back into another realm.

'Hmmmm. I gotta write this dream down quickly before I forget it,' said Scrooge to himself. 'This would make a great show. Where's Derek Acorah's number?' Scrooge found a piece of paper and pen and scribbled some garbled notes before falling back asleep.

Scrooge awoke with a start, bells and alarms were clanging all around him. Then a spirit appeared. He looked youthful yet old. 'I must get his doctor's details from him' thought Scrooge. 'Who are you?' Scrooge said to the spirit.

'I am the Ghost of Christmas P*ssed.' it said. 'Come with me!'.

It held out a hand and Scrooge tentatively took it. Suddenly they were outside Scrooge's home and stood by a black De Lorean DMC-12 sports car. 'Get in,' said the spirit, so Scrooge got in the nearside whilst the spirit swaggered over to the driver's side.

'Are you sure you should drive? ... err I mean you look a little tired and exhausted, if you don't mind me saying,' said a nervous Scrooge worried he was going to end up in a drink-driving accident.

'Relax. I'm not going to be driving, Kitt-kat drives himself,' said the spirit, whilst punching in some numbers into a keyboard on the dash. 'We're going back to your youth, your formative years.'

Scrooge looked at the read-out on the dash, it read 03/01/1852. 'Hey, I'm old, but I'm not that old' said Scrooge.

The spirit looked closely at him. 'Oh, easy mistake to make,' and he corrected the date.

Scrooge was nervous, it had been years since he had thought about his early life, as a child actor in such seminal movies as the Kid, and the Exorcist. The engine started and Scrooge and the spirit were thrown back in their seats as the De Lorean lifted off the ground and shot up into the sky.

End of Part Two.

12-23-2007, 05:10 PM
A Dirky Christmas Carol
by Charles Dirkens

Part Three

The spirit led Scrooge through good and bad memories. Scrooge felt the joy and happiness again from when he had won the Academy Award for best actor for his part as the possessed child in the Exorcist. Everyone wanted to know how the special effects of the spinning head and projectile vomiting had been created, but Scrooge would never tell, he was a pro! He had worked hard as a child actor and had been one of the most highly paid kids in the world. His parents had never let the money go to his head though - it was all banked away and he would get it when he turned 21. Now the bad memories came. There he was in the bank manager's office on his 21st birthday, smiling from ear to ear waiting to see how much lolly was in his account. He'd worked half his life already and he was looking forward to a very early retirement. He'd already picked out the blue Porsche Boxster he wanted as his first car. His parents had gone to Panama on a canoeing holiday, so it was just him and the bank manager. The manager typed into his keyboard and then his face went ashen. 'What's wrong?' said Scrooge.

The manager typed some more into the computer and then looked up. 'It's gone. All gone. Your parents cleared out the account one week ago. There's nothing left,' said the bank manager.

Scrooge just stared at him. He couldn't believe it, so the bank manager turned his monitor around to show Scrooge. There it was - in glorious technicolour - his own parents had robbed him of his hard earned earnings. He knew Hollywood was a hell-hole, but he had no idea he couldn't even trust his parents! He left the office and walked home, he had to, he certainly didn't have any cash to spare on a taxi. As he passed by the grocery store he remembered he hadn't any tofu, so he stopped in. Typical. Today of all days he was recognised. 'Hey, aren't you THAT kid, you know the one with the spinning head! Can you do that now, show us that spin, that was great.'

'Err... thanks, but that was a special effect, I can't really spin my head around 360 degrees, otherwise my head'd fall off,' said Scrooge. No one was listening, but a crowd was certainly forming around him. He picked up his items and headed for the cashier to pay. Whilst queuing, fans came up and asked him to sign autographs for them. 'Sure, no problem,' he said, hoping the quicker the interaction, the quicker it'd be over. Then he got to the cashier.

'That'll be five dollars and 42 cents please Mr Scrooge,' said the beaming till operator. Scrooge pulled out his wallet and horror of horrors ... he didn't have enough money.

'Err ... look can I put something back, I haven't got enough,' Scrooge said embarressdly. Everyone fell about laughing. That Scrooge, what a card he was, he was the richest kid in Hollywood, of course he could pay a trifling grocery bill.

'What about a cheque then Mr Scrooge,' said the till operator, thinking she was playing along with his practical joke.

'Look, I'm sorry, I just haven't got the money. I'll leave these here.' Scrooge put the bag of groceries down and got out of the store as quickly as he could. His face was crimson with embarrassment. He didn't dare turn around to see the incredulous stares from the till operator and patrons.

'Those bloody film stars, think they can treat us like dirt, and us scivvy away for them, putting their stuff back,' said the till operator deliberately loudly so that Scrooge could hear it as he quickly walked out the door.

'As long as I live, I never want to be in this position again,' Scrooge said to himself. And he kept that promise. From then on Scrooge became a celebrity, not a celebrity actor, just a celebrity. He'd had his fill of working for a living, now he was gonna live for his living, and see how far he could get without hard graft.

Scrooge looked at the ghost. He couldn't bear the walk down memory lane anymore. It had been 40 years since he'd last spoken with his parents. In the blink of an eye Scrooge was back in his room and ready for sleep.

Scrooge awoke again at one o'clock. He got up and went to the bathroom. The Ghost of Christmas Present was there waiting for him. She had flame-coloured hair and wore a leopard-print dress, though fortunately her middle-aged-cleavage was covered up (for now!).

Finding a strange women in your bathroom was always disconcerting, especially when you had reasons to get up out of bed and go to the bathroom. The Ghost winked at Scrooge. Too tired to complain, he just turned to face the urinal and got on with matters. The Ghost floated out the door to wait for him in his bedroom. 'You're Anne Robinson,' said Scrooge. 'How can you be a ghost, you're not dead?'

'Of course I'm dead. How'd'ya think I manage to keep so thin - I never have to eat,' said the spirit. She took Scrooge by the hand and began hobbling out the door.

'Sorry about the ankle,' said Scrooge.

'Don't worry, it made great tv,' winked the Ghost back.

She took him to the humble abode of Tracy Cratchitt. The Cratchitt clan were celebrating Christmas as best they can, given that Tracy isn't in paid employment and Tracy's husband, Mike, had been laid off from his duck shooting job after a notorious incident involving Dick Cheney. Who'd have thought Cheney could be such a Dick when it came to shooting ducks. They hadn't even been on a hunt at the time of the mishap, but at the local bar, The Fuzzy Duck, for a lunchtime refreshment. Needless to say, everyone ducked during that shooting spree. Of course Dick tried to blame Mike for the incident, and so consequently, Mike had been unemployment for several months now.

Scrooge felt guilt, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. He hadn't realised Mike had been laid off. He'd known about the Cheney incident of course, he'd even been able to get a couple of headlines out of it himself, seeing as he was a 'close family friend' of the Cratchitt's. The family gathered around the table and said grace, then began to toast each other and auld acquaintences not forgotten. Tracy's oldest daughter, Marci was a beautiful young women. She had already begun hanging around the Hollywood hotspots like Bouiji, Chinawhites and the Viper Room, to be 'spotted'. Cratchitt had mentioned to Scrooge that Marci was hoping he might let her be his escort at the next Hollywood premiere he went to. Scrooge had fobbed Cratchitt off, thinking she'd been referring to her middle daughter, Jan, but now Scrooge was having second thoughts. The Cratchitt's oldest son Greg began a toast 'To Dirk Scrooge, sorely missed here today ... especially by Marci'. Everyone fell about laughing and Marci blushed.

'Don't be silly Greg, you know I don't think of Scrooge that way. He's way too old for me. I'd be called Lara Croft if I ever went out with him!,' replied Marci. Tracy, Mike, and the older kids laughed. Bobby and Cindy were perplexed.

'Tomb Raider!' giggled Jan, and Bobby and Cindy joined in the laughter at Scrooge's expense. Scrooge winced, that was a deep one. 'Yeah, Scrooge is too old even for Cleopatra!' Jan continued.

'When Moses came down the mountain with the tablets for the Israelites, he said, 'There you go Dirk, here's some lines specially for you!' piped up pimply Peter. Scrooge had to hand it to pimply Peter, that was the worst best joke about his decrepitude he'd heard in months, including Kay Leno.

The Ghost pointed to the wheelchair in the corner of the room. Apparently pimples were the least of Peter's problems. Scrooge was sad. If there was one thing he loved more than celebrity, it was laughter, and he was very capable of laughing at himself. He had to, seeing some of the junk written about him. The clock began chimming and Scrooge found himself back in his bedroom alone.

End of Part Three.

12-24-2007, 06:17 AM
deebee, i love it, the work that gone into that, you go honey !!!

12-27-2007, 11:47 AM
deebee, i love it, the work that gone into that, you go honey !!!

Thanks Lily. I'm afraid very little work goes in it. :oops: I just sought of start typing and this random mental diarrhea comes out. :oops: :cry: Had I actually put any work in to it, there'd be more jokes. :oops: :cry:

And to the rest of you with baited-breath (brush your teeth! :P) ... I've not forgotten the story or you, and will hopefully finish it off in the next day or so. :wink: