Written by Ye Olde Scribe
Twas the worse of times. Twere the worst of times. Twere sucky times. Poor, poor Bob Crotch-rot-ish was in poor shape: no health care except a program that sold Tiny Tim off to mega insurance crooks.
Freezing, Bob asked Mr Scroogbama for another lump of coal for his pot bellied stove. He had previously tried pork bellies in but they doth nothing but stank. He tried pot in the pot’s belly, but it attracted too many cops. You see in Scroogeland getting even a little high so you can bear the misery brought on by Neo Con economics was verboten.
But Scroogebama said, “Hell, no. No mo coal. Nothing to really fire up the economy instead of sinking it by giving more money to the rich. Hey, I gotta make deals with everyone who hates us first, trying to make each and every one of the sheep-like followers of The REICH Wing happy. The coal is all for them and their rich benefactors. So, BAHHHHHHHH Humbug”
That nighty night night a blight of dreams followed, starting with the first ghost…
“You will soon be visited by three ghosts. They will tell you about being held hostage. I promise you, I know something about hostages and how to make sure they stay hostage.”
“You are but a figment, something spoiled, gone bad, in my presidential stew.”
“You’re not far off. What you ate was Georgia Peanut soup; using now rotted peanuts from my old farm before I had your job.”
But Scroogebama with a belch and a toot, toot, toot that with a whiff smelling like Jiff, went back to sleep.
Then he was visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past…
“You’re on the right track, Scroogebama, let me show you the past.”
So they flew out the window and into factory windows where children like Tiny Tim worked 12 or more hours a day. No bathroom or lunch breaks. Workers bought everything at company stores and had to live in company housing. All taken out of their checks. Loans were through the company at high interest rates. Toxic, cruel, conditions were the norm.
“Oh what am I doing?” Scroogebama cried. I have been trying to make deals with the devil. With fascistic clowns who will never compromise! They’ll bring all this back”
The Ghost slapped him hard he in fear he crapped, then flew back into his bed: The Ghost of Christmas Present, present.
“Ho, ho, ho! How’s our Democratic, presidential, HO doing, Scroogebama?”
“A little… spooked.”
“As it would be, SB! Now let me show we have wrought so far.”
So again off they flew and saw the unemployed everywhere. They saw the dead and the dying as they passed through emergency rooms nationwide.
Cried the Ghost in good cheer, “Cause when it comes to affordable, decent, health care, all those Nationwides are NOT on their side!!!”
They went to Bob’s house where Mrs. Bob was absent, the door unlocked, a child predator luring away their kids, because both parents have had to work since the first Neo Nut became Pres, Saint Ray Gun.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, what have I wrought?”
“Ho, ho, ho, ho, Scroogebama, what ya expect when you HO yourself out instead of standing up to anyone… well, everyone except those who voted for you? So let’s MOVE FORWARD NOW AND NOT LOOK BACK. Mr. O., you such HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…”
And the Ghost of Christmas Present faded away with his eight mangy reindeer. Off to have sex with them. Carve up little kids he’s kept in undisclosed locations, claiming them Christmas terrorists, for his reindeer to eat so they have the strength to pull his Christmas… SLAY. But all that and more is OK. No one will do anything about it. After all. HE’S A REPUBLICAN.
Well, that wasn’t too SWIFT… ian. Was it?
Then Scroogebama, found himself back tucked in his bed, saw the latest ghost.
“Oh, I fear you the most, Ghost of Christmases Yet to Be.”
But the ghost merely pointed. Looking up close he noticed his cloak had a GOP symbol on it. The ghost pulled back the bottom of his cloak and Scroogebama saw the same gun used in Dallas from Grassy.
“Does this mean I need not to give those billionaires tax breaks…”
The Ghost pulled the gun out and pointed.
“OK, yes, they get the tax breaks, because that’s what you do with hostage takers: give them what they want.”
And Scroogebama awoke.
“Oh, my, the ghosts did it all in one night! One night!”
Looking out the window he saw a urchin.
“Get off the street and get a job, you lazy brat,” Scroogebama cried.
So from that day on he found some way, any way, to give the traitors what they wanted. Unfortunately they hated him anyway. They made sure he lost in 2012. Then he had an “unfortunate accident” with a noose, a tree and a lot of folks dressed like the Ghost of Christmases Yet to Be, only white, with pointy hats…. the new official uniform of the only “party” left in America.
But thanks to Scroogebama, from that day on, the country stayed on the “Right” path.
There, now wasn’t that a warm and cozy Christmas Tale?