An Alternative Christmas Carol - Episode 6

Between now and Christmas we will be serialising Robert Cubitt's satirical version of the old Charles Dickens classic, a Christmas Carol.

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 Christmas Morning, about 10 a.m.

Smooge struggled awake, the warm blankets encouraging him to return to slumber, if only for a moment. He shook his head, trying to clear it, wondering if the dreams he had experienced were real or just his imaginings. Perhaps he had suffered from indigestion, and all those ghostly visitors had simply been a manifestation of that ailment.
  Smooge shivered, wondering where a draft might be coming from. He glanced across at the window and saw it gaping open, a pool of melted snow on the floor beneath it. He knew he had closed that window before retiring the evening before. On the far side of the room something caught his eye. Was that a laurel leaf? Perhaps some part of a ghost’s head dress? And there, on the floor, was that not golden glitter which might have been dislodged from a ghostly girl’s chest? And where was his gold watch and chain?
  So it had been real, apparently. Smooge climbed from his warm bed and approached the window, meaning to pull it down, but he spied an urchin trudging through the snow below him.
  “Hey, you there, boy.”
  The urchin stopped and looked up at him. “Oo’ are you callin’ boy, you old fart?”
  “Tell me boy. What day is this?”
  “Well bless me guv’nor. Don’t you know it’s Christmas time at all?”

​But thanks for the Sovereign.”

Christmas. Of Course. That was what his nocturnal visitations had been about. “Wait there boy.” Smooge’s head vanished from view and returned a moment later. Gold sparkled in the air as he threw a coin down to the boy.
  “Ouch. That hurt. You wanna be careful, old man, or I’ll ‘ave the law on you for that. I’m entitled to compensation.” The boy raised a filthy handkerchief to staunch the flow of blood from the gash on his head. Dropping to his hands and knees he searched the snow for the fallen coin with his free hand.
  “Now, boy. I want you to hurry to Mr Fortnum and Mr Mason’s most excellent emporium and buy me the biggest goose they have.”
  “You’re a loony mate.” The boy shouted up, having retrieved the coin. “It’s Christmas Day. The shops are all shut and the first Asian mini-market won’t open for another hundred and twenty years. But thanks for the Sovereign.” He turned and ran away before Smooge could consider coming down the stairs to recover his money.
  Damn and blast, thought Smooge. Well, he’d remember that boy’s face. Now now, he chastised himself. Peace on Earth and goodwill to all men. Even dirty faced urchins.
  After closing the window he made his way into the kitchen and opened the door to the cold larder. There on the shelf was the fat goose that he had been planning to cook for himself and Elisa Scratchit. It would have to do.
  Quickly Smooge dressed and left the house. He made his way through the empty streets to his nephew’s house. His knock was answered by Tamsin, his nephew’s wife.
  “Well, here’s a sight for sore eyes. And how are you this fine morning Uncle?”
  “I am well. Now, yesterday, Justin invited me to share your festive lunch.”
  “He did indeed, in the full expectation that, as usual, you wouldn’t attend.” Her face fell as realisation dawned. “You are attending, aren’t you?”
  “I am indeed. However, I must first run an errand. I will return forthwith and enjoy the day with you. I’m afraid that I haven’t had time to buy presents for you or children. How are little Agatha and Brian, by the way?”
 “Priti and Boris. They’re fine. As they weren’t expecting a present from you they won’t be disappointed.”
  “I shall make restitution some other way, perhaps some small financial contribution may be appreciated.  Now, I must go, but I’ll be back shortly.”
 “Don’t hurry yourself Uncle.” Tamsin responded sourly. “I’ll let my husband know you’re coming. He’ll be so pleased.” The sarcasm was lost on Smooge.
  If Smooge noticed the aggression with which she slammed the door he chose to ignore it. Instead he strode off through the snow to his next port of call. Under his breath he hummed a familiar carol. His knock was answered by Elisa.
  “Mr Smooge. Well bless me but we weren’t expecting to see you this morning.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m not free till this afternoon, you randy old goat.” She hissed.

“Now, now, children. No need to be alarmed.”

Smooge beamed at her. “Fear not Madam, I haven’t come for my curtain fitting. I bring you this fine goose so that you may enjoy the festivities.” He held the dead bird up by its neck.
  Elisa's mouth dropped open with shock, but she recovered her wits quickly. “You’d better come in then.”
  Elisa stood to one side then ushered Smooge into the tiny, badly lit parlour. “I’ll tell Bob you’re here.” She said as she left the room.
  Seeing their father’s employer enter the room the children cried out with alarm and backed themselves into the furthest corner.
  “Now, now, children. No need to be alarmed.” Smooge gave them his warmest grin, which succeeded only in drawing fresh cries of alarm from them.
  “Now, why don’t you come over here to your Uncle Smooge. You. What’s your name little girl?” He singled out a child dressed from head to toe in shocking pink.
  “I’m Beyoncé” She stammered in fear.
  “OK, Beyoncé, why don’t you introduce me to the rest of your brothers and sisters.”
  Emboldened, the girl moved forward slightly and pointed at each child in turn. “That’s Dappy, he’s the oldest; Jagger, Britney, Elvis, Bono, Amy, Norton is the one with the frilly pink shirt, that’s KD in the boiler suit, Freddie, Ringo and finally Tiny Tim.”
  “God Bless us everyone.” Piped Tim from the back of the crowd.
  “Yes, alright Tim. Don’t milk it.” Said the one identified as Elvis.
  At that moment Bob Scratchit entered the room, brushing snow from his shoulders.
  “I must get that hole in the privy roof sorted.” He told the world at large. “Well, this is a surprise, Mr Smooge.” His face took on a worried look. “You haven’t come to sack me, have you? You did agree I could have the day off.”
  “No need to worry, Bob. I’ve just come to give you this fine goose for your lunch and to wish you the season’s greetings.” He handed the bird over to his employee. The children eyed it with open mouthed awe. They’d never seen so much meat in one place before.
  “Oh, Bless You Sir. Can I get you a drink?”
  “Why, that would be wonderful Bob.”
  Scratchit left the room and returned a few minutes later without the goose but with the bottle of beer he had been looking forward to enjoying with his roast rat. He offered it to Smooge, then ushered him across to the seat by the fire. The only seat in the room since the rest of the furniture had been burnt to provide warmth. Fortunately the Scratchit family had been unaffected by the recent rise in gas prices. You had to have gas for that to affect you.
  They sat in embarrassed silence while Smooge drank the beer. The children whispered together about the mystery of Smooge turning up with food for them.
  Smooge drained the last drop from the bottle and rose. Scratchit almost fell over with relief as he escorted his employer form the house.
  “Have the merriest of Christmases, Mr Smooge.”
  “Thank you Bob, and the same to you and your family. Please tell your lovely wife not to bother with my curtain fitting this evening. We can arrange it for another time, I’m sure.”
  “Why thank you, Sir. She will be pleased.”
  I won’t be though, thought Smooge. He wished someone would hurry up and invent the internet so he could download some Christmas porn. Instead he pasted a smile onto his face that succeeded in frightening a passing horse, then made his way back to his nephew’s house.
  As the door shut Smooge heard Tiny Tim’s voice. “God Bless us every one.”
  “Oh do shut up.” The other children shouted in chorus.

That's the end of Episode 6. The 7th and final episode will be posted next Saturday, 18th December. Can you guess how it will end?

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