A Disney Christmas Carol Chapter 5

*Scrooge sat miserably in the snow awaiting for the next spirit to arrive. His face was badly dry from all the crying and still he does so, as a few tears fall from his eyes and splash upon the ground. Strangely, he saw that the lights seem to flicker and he turned to the lamp posts, where the flames seemed to be dimming then burning then dimming again…*

*Just then, the flame within one of the lamp posts blew out, causing Scrooge to turn his head rapidly as the same happened to one lamp post after another before fading into darkness. Before Scrooge could catch his breath, a strange odor caused Scrooge to cough until he noticed a red fog billowing from nothing all around Scrooge, who was utterly terrified at the fog flowing around him*

*He heard footsteps creak through the snow as a figure emerged from the fog. At first, Scrooge couldn’t tell what it was due to all the fog. But when he could finally make out the figure, he stared in utter shock at what he saw. Looming before him was a solemn phantom with boney fingers draped in robes as red as a blazing flame, and it's face covered with a hood with disfiguring antlers jutting from the top. The most sinister creature Scrooge had ever seen and he knew this creature, this ghastly figure of dark power, was not human*

Scrooge: *eyes widen* A-Am I in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?

Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come: *slowly nods*

Scrooge: You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us. Is that so, Spirit?

Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come: *slowly nods*

Scrooge: Ghost of the Future…I fear you more than any specter I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart… Will you not speak to me?

Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come: *is silent*

Scrooge: Well…the night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know… Lead on, Spirit.

*Scarcely did they seem to enter the city; for it rather seemed to spring up about them, and encompass them of its own act. But there they were, the heart of it all; on change amongst the merchants, who hurried up and down, coins chinking in their pockets. Conversing in groups, as they looked at their watches, and trifled thoughtfully with their great gold seals, just as Scrooge had seen them often. Before long, the Spirit stopped pointing a bony finger before a little knot of business men. Observing, Scrooge advanced to listen to their talk*

Owl: I don't know much about it, either way. I only know he's dead.

Prince John: When did he die, anyway?

Owl: Last night, or so I think. Honestly, I'm not quite sure.

Frollo: *takes a vast quantity of treasure from a very large snuff-box* What was the matter with him? I thought he'd never die.

Owl: *yawns* Who knows? I guess the man's spirit just couldn't contain itself no more.

Ratigan: And what of his money?

Owl: Haven't heard. He hasn't left it to me, that much I know. For all I know, it's been left to his company… Or what's left of it!

*Soon, all the men began to laugh, as Scrooge stared with a look of curiosity. Before long, they settled down long enough to continue their talk*

Owl: But seriously, chaps, it's likely to be a very cheap funeral. Upon my life I don't know a soul who'd attend to it. Suppose we make up a party and volunteer ourselves.

Prince John: I wouldn't mind going, so long's lunch is provided. But I must be fed, it I make one.

Owl: *laughs again* Well, I am the most disinterested among you. For I'd never wear black gloves, nor have I ever ate lunch. But I'll offer to go, it anybody else will. Come to think of it, I'm not sure that I wasn't his most particular friend. We used to stop and speak whenever we met, but that was it. Well, I must be off gentlemen. Good night.

*The four wealthy gentlemen strolled away into the dark, mixed with their groups. It was strange for Scrooge; he knew these men. He turned towards the Spirit for an explanation, yet found he couldn't make eye contact because it's face was concealed by endless blackness*

Scrooge: Spirit… I know these men. They are business acquaintances of mine. *slowly turns to the Spirit* But… Who was the man they spoke of, the one that died?

*The Spirit says nothing, instead leading Scrooge away from the busy scene to a more obscure part of town, the part of which Scrooge had never penetrated before. He only recognized its situation and it's bad repute. It's ways were foul and narrow; the shops and homes equally wretched. Far in this den of infamous resort, there stood a low browed, beetling shop, below a pent-house roof, where iron, old rags, bottles, bones, and greasy offal, were bought. Upon the floors within, piles upon heaps of rusty keys, nails, chains, hinges, files, scales, weights, and refuse iron of all kinds. Secrets that few would like to scrutinize were bred, hidden in mountains of unseemly rags, masses of corrupted fat, and sepulchers of bones. Sitting among the wares he dealt in, by a charcoal stove, made of old bricks, stood a shady fox, dressed in old tattered clothes and a top hat with a hole on top. He screened himself from the cold air without, by a frowsy curtaining of miscellaneous tatters, hung upon a line; he smoked his pipe as if by a luxury of calm retirement. Scrooge and the Spirit came into the presence of this fox, just as an elderly woman with a heavy bundle slunk into the shop. But scarcely did she enter, when a trio of hyenas dressed similarly like the fox. And Scrooge recognized the hyenas, the vagrants from the night of Marley's visit. After a short period of blank astonishment, in which they all joined in together, they all burst into a hideous laugh while the old woman merely smirked*

Old Joe: Couldn't have picked a better place, lads. Come, step into my parlor. *eyes the group* And what have you all brought for Old Joe tonight, huh?

Shenzii: It's like this, Joe, we were just at the mansion picking off the rich stiff that really kicked the bucket last night.

Banzai: Oh-ho, man, did we get a "lot" of stuff! But I reckon ours is the best!

*In the midst of this conversation, another figure emerged into the parlor. A tall, skinny mouse dressed nearly in all black: A black polyester vest, with a black vest underneath with a gray tie, and matching black slacks along with a pair of polished black shoes. Stepping into the room, while removing the top black hat from off him. Scrooge recognized him as the Town Undertaker, a mysterious yet shady man, who worked in the graveyard. Though what brought him into this gathering, Scrooge didn't know*

Old Joe: Oh, ho, ho! Do my eyes deceive me? An Undertaker has come before us. Don't tell me, you just came from the mansion too?

Undertaker: Ya got that right, Joe, and boy do I have something for you!

Banzai: Hey, buddy, take a number!

Shenzi: We were here first!

Old Joe: Alright, alright! Settle down everyone! Now I'm a generous bloke, all are invited to offer what they can sell and buy what they see fit. *to the Undertaker* Step forward, good sir, they do not see what good business is unless they know of their customers… Especially, one that goes way back.

Undertaker: *smiles* Don't mind if I do. *removes a case of items, opens it* Let's see, I got two seals, a pencil-case, a pair of sleeve-buttons, and… I think a brooch. I would goes to say I "borrowed" them with every intention of giving them back… But in this case, I'm willing to make an exception.

Old Joe: Hmm... I'd say this junk's worth at least ten shillings. Well done, sir!

Undertaker: Ha, cha, cha! Pleasure as always doin' business with ya, Joe.

Old Joe: Yes, yes, yes. Now… Who's next? *looks around, turns to the hyenas* Ah yes, I almost forgot about you blokes. You seriously should try speaking up more, it saves time.

Shenzi: *frowns at Joe's insult* Humph. 'Bout time!

Banzai: Aw' right Ed, show Old Joe what we've… Procured for him, eh?

Ed: *laughs manically, opens a bundle, pours out an assortment of junk*

Banzai: Ta da! So, what do ya think?

Shenzi: We do good or were we 'great'?!

Old Joe: Well, let's see, hmm… *rummages through the junk* Interesting… Sheets of towels, a little wearing apparel, two old-fashioned silver teaspoons, a pair of sugar-tongs, and a few boots… Yes. *pause* Fifteen shillings, for the lot.

Undertaker: *annoyed* What?! That's outrageous!

Shenzi: Ha! *looks to the Undertaker* Made more than you and your stupid brooch!

Old Joe: Sorry Chum, but business is business.

Undertaker: Grr… Lousy Hyenas.

Old Joe: Next! *turns to Mrs. Dilber, tips his hat* Ah, Mrs. Dilber, lovely as ever. Fancy any trinkets worth selling… Or something to buy, perhaps?

Mrs. Dilber: Humph! Flattery won't do you any good, Joe. But what I've got is the best out of anything those vagrants gave you. *presents her bundle*

Old Joe: *inspects the bundle* His bed curtains? *pause* And they still have the rings attached? *smiles* Nice!

Mrs. Dilber: Unfold them… There's more.

*Doing as told, curious to boot, Old Joe unrolled the curtains and to his surprise he found a fine buttoned shirt inside, carefully preserved*

Old Joe: *gasps* Is that… His dress shirt?

Mrs. Dilber: The very same shirt he was to be buried in… Luckily, I came in and "persuaded" some people to have it removed at once. Not like he'll need it where he's going…

Old Joe: Hmm… *smirks* You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Dilber. For this… Thirty shillings!!

Undertaker & the Hyenas: *in unison* What?!

Banzai: You gotta be kiddin' me!

Mrs. Dilber: Then that be the end of it, you see. He frightened everyone away from him when he was alive; it makes sense to profit us when he was dead.

*Soon, everyone in the shop began to laugh ho-heartedly. But the scene with these people terrified Scrooge beyond belief. As if some dark thoughts are hitting his mind expecting him to know, but he refuses to acknowledge the possibility*

Scrooge: Spirit… I see the case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way, now.

*Scrooge recoiled in terror, for the scene suddenly changed, now he almost touched a bed. A bare, uncurtained mattress, on which, beneath a ragged sheet, lay something covered up, which, though it was dumb, announced itself in awful language. The room was very dark, too dark to observe with any accuracy, though Scrooge glanced round it in obedience to a secret impulse, anxious to know what room it was. A pale light, rising in the outer air, fell straight upon the bed; for on it, plundered and bereft, unwatched and unwept, with no one to care for, was the body of a stiff man*

Scrooge: Spirit, this place haunts me so. In leaving it, I shall not leave its lesson, trust me. Let us leave.

Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come: *stretches out a hand to remove the sheet*

Scrooge: I understand you, Spirit, I'd do it if I could. But I have not the power in me, Spirit. Please understand.

Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come: *pulls his hand back to his side*

Scrooge: Let me see some tenderness connected with this death or this ghastly chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be forever present to me.

*The Ghost conducted him through several streets familiar to his feet; as they went along, Scrooge looked here and there to find himself. However, he was nowhere to be seen in any direction. Soon they entered poor Bob Cratchit's house; the dwelling he had visited before; the mother and the children sat round the fire upon entering*

Martha: I think he has walked a little slower these few last evenings, mother.

Mrs. Cratchit: I've known him walk with -- I've known him walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder, very fast indeed. But he was very light to carry, but that was no trouble at all. His father loved him so-- *turns to the window* There's your father at the door.

*Just then, Bob Cratchit came home, his head looking slightly down and though he didn't show a sad look was pressed upon his face. But somehow, his family knew the feeling*

Bob Cratchit: I'm home…

Mrs. Cratchit: *approaches Bob* You went today, Robert?

Bob Cratchit: Yes dear, I wish you could've gone. It would have done you good to see how green a place it is… But you'll see it often. *sighs* I promised him I would walk there on a Sunday… I promised.

*He couldn't help himself, Bob broke down all at once in front of his family. If he could've, he and his child would have been farther apart perhaps than they were now. Scrooge, seeing this, shook his head in denial*

Scrooge: *shakes his head* No! Oh God, no! Not Tiny Tim!

*Scrooge followed Bob out of the room, climbing the stars to the room above, which was lighted cheerfully, and hung with Christmas. There a chair sat close beside the child, no signs of someone having been there, lately. Poor Bob sat down in it, and when he had thought a little and composed himself, he kissed the little face. He was reconciled to what had happened, and went down again quite happy. Scrooge approached the bed, sitting upon the chair, and looked down at the still body of Tiny Tim*

Scrooge: Oh, my dear little Tim… I wish I had gotten to know you better. *turns to Bob* We may have even been friends, you and I… Just like your father and I could've been. *closes his eyes in sadness* Forgive me, Tim.

*When Scrooge opened his eyes again, he found that he stood in the middle of a foreboding churchyard. He turned to see the Spirit stand next to a large tombstone, the engraved name covered with snow*

Scrooge: *slowly approaches the Spirit* Spirit, tell me… Who was the lonely man we saw lying dead?

*But as always, the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come said nothing. His only response was a bony finger, pointed to the snow covered tombstone. Scrooge, frightened at the sight, slowly approached it but stopped midway*

Scrooge: Spirit… *turns to the Spirit* Before I draw nearer to that stone, at least answer one question: Are these the shadows of things that "will" be, or are they shadows of things that "may" be, only? *pause* Men's courses foreshadow certain needs, to which, if persevered in, they must lead. But if courses be departed from, the ends change, don't they? Say it is thus with what you show me… I implore you, Spirit, speak!

Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come: *points at the tombstone*

*With no choice, Scrooge crept towards the tombstone, trembling as he went. Following the finger, wiping away the snow, the old man read upon the stone of the neglected grave of his own name… 'Ebenezer Scrooge'*

Scrooge: *a tear rolls down his cheek* It's true then… *looks to the spirit* No… No… Spirit, hear me out. I'm not the man I was; I will "not" be the man I have been before this intercourse. Why show me, if you believe I'm past all hope?

Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come: *remains silent and motionless*

Scrooge: Spirit… If what I see are events that haven't even happened 'yet', does this mean 'any' of this can be changed? *pause, falls to his knees* Please, Spirit! Your nature intercedes me, pities me even. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows, by some altered life perhaps. *pause* Spirit! Why won't you speak to me?

*Scrooge begins to drop to his knees, sobbing into the hands that covered his face. The Spirit merely stands there and watches the Old Man, who has seemingly given up on fighting the inevitable, as if accepting this as his punishment… But then, a sudden epiphany makes him stop and a realization crosses his face*

Scrooge: *softly* She was right… No… *loudly* NO! *to the Spirit* It's not too late, it won't be. I will be a good man! I will live in the Past, Present, and Future, to embrace the Spirit of all Three that shall strive within me! I will not shut out the lessons that they teach, what you have taught me. *nods confidently* Yes, stay silent if you must, but you hear me! I can change! I will sponge away the writing on this stone and I'll give the people what they have given me. I will give them Christmas; I will. *grabs the Spirit's robe* It's "never" too late!