Mickey's Christmas Carol Page #2

---

Why, it's my counting house.

Nine thousand nine hundred

and seventy-two.

- Nine thousand...

- Ebenezer.

Yes? What is it?

For years, I've had this honeymoon

cottage, Ebenezer.

I've been waiting for you

to keep your promise to marry me.

Now I must know,

have you made your decision?

I have. Your last payment on the cottage

was an hour late.

I'm foreclosing the mortgage.

You loved your gold

more than that precious creature.

And you lost her forever.

Nine thousand nine hundred

and seventy...

three.

Please, spirit,

I can no longer bear these memories.

Take me home.

Remember, Scrooge,

you fashioned these memories yourself.

Why was I so foolish?

Why? Why?

What's this?

Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell...

I mean, I smell

a stingy little Englishman.

I think I do.

Yeah, I do.

Please, let me go.

Don't eat me.

Why would the Ghost

of Christmas Present, that's me,

want to eat a distasteful little miser

like you?

Especially when there are so many

good things to enjoy in life. See?

Mince pies.

Turkeys.

Suckling pig.

And don't forget the chocolate pot roast

with pishmachio...

With smishmachio... With:

With yogurt.

But where did all this come from?

From the heart, Scrooge.

It's the food of generosity.

Which you have long denied

your fellow man.

Generosity.

Nobody has ever shown me generosity.

You've never given them reason to.

And yet, there are some who still find

enough warmth in their hearts

even for the likes of you.

No acquaintance of mine, I assure you.

You'll see.

Here we are.

Why did you bring me to this old shack?

This is the home of your overworked,

underpaid employee, Bob Cratchit.

What's she cooking? A canary?

Surely they have more food than that.

Look on the fire.

That's your laundry.

Not yet, children.

We must wait for Tiny Tim.

Coming, Father.

I'm coming.

Oh, my,

look at all the wonderful things to eat.

We must thank Mr. Scrooge.

Tell me, spirit,

what's wrong with that kind lad?

Much, I'm afraid.

If these shadows remain unchanged,

I see an empty chair

where Tiny Tim once sat.

Then that means Tim will?

Where did they go?

Spirit, where are you?

Don't go. You must tell me about Tim.

Don't go.

Where did...?

Who are you?

Are you the Ghost of Christmas Future?

Please, speak to me.

Tell me, what will happen to Tiny Tim?

Oh, no.

Spirit, I didn't want this to happen.

Tell me these events

can yet be changed.

I've never seen a funeral like this one.

Aye, no mourners,

no friends to bid him farewell.

Oh, well, let's rest a minute

afore we fill it in, eh?

He ain't going nowhere.

Spirit.

Whose lonely grave is this?

Why, yours, Ebenezer.

The richest man in the cemetery.

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote