Do. Not. Own. A Christmas Carol! That is your official disclaimer. I do not make ANY money out of this, and I cannot write NEARLY as well as Charles Dickens. So don't sue! The characters will be out of character. This story is me re-writing A Christmas Carol with a humorous twist. I hope you enjoy my random humor. Well, let's get on with it then!

I Didn't Hear A Christmas Carol

Marley was as dead as a door-knob. What is particularly dead about a door-knob? Scrooge didn't know, partially because there really isn't much dead about a door-knob, and partially because he had some strange feeling that Marley should be as dead as a door-nail, instead of a door-knob. Whatever, it didn't really matter. The point was, the simile was true, though Scrooge suspected that if Marley had still been alive enough to care, he would have detested being compared to a door-knob or a door-nail. So he swore right then and there that he would never use that insulting simile to describe Marley's deadness ever again, whether a nail or a knob.

Shaking off all strange thoughts and feelings about dead door-knobs and nails, he paid for the funeral with much sadness. That funeral cost him a whole 5 pounds! He had almost wept when he handed the money over. The bishop standing respectfully nearby had tried to comfort him, by saying that "he is at peace". Scrooge hadn't known money was referred to as a "he", nor had he known that money could be at peace. So you can't blame him for thinking that the bishop was a little crazy. The bishop was confused when Scrooge attempted to correct him, and then said that he had thought Scrooge was crying over Marley's death. Of all the crazy ideas! Scrooge was then certain the bishop was mad. He left rather hurriedly; his mother had always told him not to hang out with mad men.

(Seven Years Later)

Scrooge was walking down the street. A dog pulled his blind master into an ally in panic. Girls fainted. Boys altered their courses to avoid him. A dark cloud hung over Scrooge's head. It was Christmas Eve. And Scrooge was about as merry as a grave yard on a wet Sunday. He had to let his clerk have the day off tomorrow. The WHOLE day! It was SO unfair! He felt like throwing a temper tantrum. So that's what he did. As soon as he was in the empty shop, and the shutters were closed and he was safe from prying eyes, let loose. "ARRRRRGGGHH! THIS IS SO UNFAIR! I HATE CHRISTMAS! I HATE IT!" He stomped his foot like a spoiled teenage girl, and shook his fist at the sky.

Having got that out of his system, he set about opening the counting house. His clerk came in, and couldn't help but stare at the cloud above Scrooge's head. Deciding that it was better not to ask, the clerk refrained from inquiring what a large dark cloud was doing above Scrooge's head and instead immediately set to work. After an exceedingly long and boring work day, the time to close was drawing near. As the sun sank, so did the temperature. The fire was low and almost extinguished. The poor clerk found his hands were so numb that he couldn't write properly. He got up slowly and headed for the coal bin, hoping to replenish the fire. He was stopped by Scrooge's dark glare. "B-but sir," the clerk chattered. "Th-the fire…"

"Is sufficient," Scrooge interrupted.

"B-but, my hands…"

"Might find themselves without work."

The meaning was clear. Reluctantly the clerk sat down again, thinking mournfully about how he should have listened to his mother when she said never to become a clerk. They both went back to work. They worked. And they worked some more. They kept working. And working. Finally, a loud voice broke the silence and put an end to their work. Scrooge looked up, and paled in horror.

Standing in the doorway was none other than Scrooge's worse nightmare. His nephew. "Howdy, Uncle!" his nephew greeted cheerfully, but then stopped, confused. He thought he heard an indignant author protest that he got his line wrong. "Bah! Ladybug!" Scrooge grunted. He could have sworn he heard an author complain that she "always got the idiot characters".

"Ladybug?" the nephew exclaimed in confusion. "You meant to say something else, right?"

"No! Wrong! I meant ladybug, and that's that."

"Whatever. I just wanted to invite you over to dinner with us; we'll have the merriest time!"

"I will not go to your foolish party."

"But Uncle!"

"No!"

"Well, the offer still stands, should you change your mind. Oh yah, and before I forget, I also want to wish you a Happy Hanukah!" Somewhere in another time and place, an author banged her head against the monitor in despair.

"Good afternoon," Scrooge said, clearly meaning that their conversation was over.

"Very well, good-bye Uncle!"

"Good afternoon!"

"And a Happy New Year!"

"GOOD AFTERNOON!"

And with that, the nephew left.

Well, that was the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed, and stay tuned for the next one! Please leave a review behind as well, even to just say you hate it.