Elite Overlord LeSabre™
America's Best-Selling Full-Size Car, 1993-2005
- 11,035
- Posts
- 17
- Years
- Age 99
- Some Quality Inn somewhere, probably
- Seen May 18, 2025
"Fine. My job has been completed. Now you must await the next ghost. Farewell..."
With that, Scrooge sat bolt upright in his bed, sweat dripping down his forehead. He looked at the clock next to him. "1:35."
"It was all a dream. Stupid Marley... Wasn't any help when we had to team up back in Victory Road either..."
"WAKE UP!"
Scrooge awakened to find a thin man in a white lab coat and shades staring over him. He was rubbing his chin intently.
"Wh...who are you...?" Scrooge stuttered.
"I am Ein, the Ghost of Christmas Present. Yeah, I know I'm not technically dead, but since I've been all but forgotten since Colosseum, I may as well be. Oh, and I found this piece of paper outside your room door."
Opening the note, Scrooge read, "When does a painter use a pistol instead of a paintbrush?"
"Arrgh, I don't have time for this!"
"Okay, then why don't you come with me instead? Oh, and you don't have a say in this matter. Let's go."
"Wha... What is the point of this?"
"Simple," Ein replied. "Sure, you're nice and comfortable here in your room with coffee-maker, high-speed internet, cable television, and signature Quality Sleeper mattress by Serta, but what about your employees? What about the ones you force to tirelessly write fan fiction? How are they spending Christmas? Aren't you the least bit curious?"
Scrooge shook his head. "I don't give a..."
"Well, that's too bad." Ein then draped Scrooge over his shoulder and headed out the back of the hotel to his '95 Buick Century. "Let's go for a little ride."
After a few minutes, they pulled in front of Lisa Northwood's mansion. You know that young girl Lisa you have working for you? Imagine the misery she's in, forced to spend her Christmas in a ramshackle place like this..."
"Wait a minute!" Scrooge retorted. "This place is bigger than mine! And she's got more cars in front of her house than a car dealership! And that one... isn't that a flux capacitor on the roof?"
"Okay, yeah, bad example. She's filthy rich. But! She isn't the only employee of yours. Bay Alexison and Bob Cratchit... Either of those names ring a bell?"
"Yeah, probably...."
"Choose one of them," Ein instructed. "We'll then see what they're doing this Christmas Eve."
With that, Scrooge sat bolt upright in his bed, sweat dripping down his forehead. He looked at the clock next to him. "1:35."
"It was all a dream. Stupid Marley... Wasn't any help when we had to team up back in Victory Road either..."
"WAKE UP!"
Scrooge awakened to find a thin man in a white lab coat and shades staring over him. He was rubbing his chin intently.
"Wh...who are you...?" Scrooge stuttered.
"I am Ein, the Ghost of Christmas Present. Yeah, I know I'm not technically dead, but since I've been all but forgotten since Colosseum, I may as well be. Oh, and I found this piece of paper outside your room door."
Opening the note, Scrooge read, "When does a painter use a pistol instead of a paintbrush?"
"Arrgh, I don't have time for this!"
"Okay, then why don't you come with me instead? Oh, and you don't have a say in this matter. Let's go."
"Wha... What is the point of this?"
"Simple," Ein replied. "Sure, you're nice and comfortable here in your room with coffee-maker, high-speed internet, cable television, and signature Quality Sleeper mattress by Serta, but what about your employees? What about the ones you force to tirelessly write fan fiction? How are they spending Christmas? Aren't you the least bit curious?"
Scrooge shook his head. "I don't give a..."
"Well, that's too bad." Ein then draped Scrooge over his shoulder and headed out the back of the hotel to his '95 Buick Century. "Let's go for a little ride."
After a few minutes, they pulled in front of Lisa Northwood's mansion. You know that young girl Lisa you have working for you? Imagine the misery she's in, forced to spend her Christmas in a ramshackle place like this..."
"Wait a minute!" Scrooge retorted. "This place is bigger than mine! And she's got more cars in front of her house than a car dealership! And that one... isn't that a flux capacitor on the roof?"
"Okay, yeah, bad example. She's filthy rich. But! She isn't the only employee of yours. Bay Alexison and Bob Cratchit... Either of those names ring a bell?"
"Yeah, probably...."
"Choose one of them," Ein instructed. "We'll then see what they're doing this Christmas Eve."
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