An EarthBound Christmas Carol.
By SilthCo.

T’was the night before Christmas, and all through Tazmilly, everyone was happy, except for one. Ebenezer Fassad, the cold hearted the money lender. He used to be in partnership with Jacob Porky who died 7 years earlier. Fassad was sitting at his desk. “Bah, Humbug!” he said.  The bell clanged as the door opened and in came Kumatora carrying a collection tin. “Is this Fassad’s & Porky’s?” she asked.
	“Yes” replied Fassad bluntly.
	“And do I have the pleasure of talking to Mr. Fassad, or Mr. Porky?”
	“Jacob Porky has been dead for seven years exactly” answered Fassad in an uncaring tone of voice.
	“Oh, well will you donate to Kumatora’s house for the poor children of Tazmilly?”
	“Bah, humbug! Bah, humbug! That’s what I say to the poor. Those children can just go and nwehe themselves. I don’t give a nwehe about them!” Kumatora left at that.
	“What the crap is that guy’s problem?!” she said when out of earshot.
	After Kumatora had left, Flint Cratchit, the clerk, went up to his Boss, Ebenezer Fassad. “Sir,” he said.
	“What is it?”
	“I was wondering if, since tomorrow is Christmas, I could have the day off to spend with my family.”
	“Do you expect to get paid for not working?”
	“No, sir.”
 	“Very well then. But you must arrive earlier the day after to make up for some missed work.”
	“Thank you, sir.” And at that, Flint Cratchit left to go home.
	“Bah, humbug. Why the nwehe does everyone celebrate this?” he asked himself. He went home. Just outside, he bumped into his nephew, Fred Duster.
	“Oh, Uncle. I was just looking for you.”
	Fassad winced at his nephew’s bad breath. “Let me guess. You want me to come over to Christmas Dinner, don’t you? Well, bah, humbug! Go and have a nweheing Christmas dinner yourself!”
	Fassad was about to go through his front door when the doorknocker changed. It changed into the face of his old partner, Jacob Porky. Porky’s face. Porky’s face. Fassad wiped his eyes and thought to himself that he must be imagining things. He went inside and sat down by the fire. He woke up. Standing there, just in front of him, was Jacob Porky, but his was transparent and seemed to be wearing chains on his arms. “Ebenezer Fassad,” he said slowly.
	“Y-yes?” asked Fassad.
	“You are in grave peril if you don’t change your ways. The chain I forged in life chains me in death.”
	 “Why did Dickens use that plot device?” asked Fassad.
	“Probably because he was British. They’re all crazy.” Was the reply.
	A huge voice boomed from nowhere saying, “I, SilthCo, The author of this story also happen to be British, so if you insult Britain again, you will be written out of the fanfic.”
	“Oh well, on with the story I guess.” Said Fassad.
“Good plan” agreed Porky. “You will be visited by three ghosts this night, starting at midnight. If you do not change your ways before morning, you will meet the same fate as I.” continued Porky and at that, he vanished.
	Fassad went to bed. As the clock chimed midnight, he awoke. He saw the ghost of Christmas past leaning over him. “Are you the first ghost?” he asked.    
	“Yes,” came the reply.
	“What are you going to do? What will you show me?”
	“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, so it would only make sense for me to show the past. I will take you back to the days of your childhood to a time with actual innocence. I.e. when you were a weird genderless magic gypsy.”
	Fassad shut his eyes. When he opened them, he was in a pink shell. Aeolia’s house. It was the Christmas party from 20 years ago. “Do have some cake Locria, its scrumptious!” it was Doria.  Locria, whom Fassad was seeing as another person took some and ate it. “Next I will show you your old school.” Said the Ghost of Christmas Past.
	“I never went to any nweheing school!” replied Fassad, “That would make no sense!”
	“Good point,” and so, Fassad was back in bed. When the clock struck one, he awoke again to see the Ghost of Christmas Present. “Are you the ghost of all the Christmas presents I never sent?” asked Fassad.
	“Wrong type of present,” was the answer. “I am the Ghost of Christmas’ happening right now! You moron!”
	Fassad suddenly found himself inside his clerk, Flint Cratchit’s, house. Flint’s wife, Hinawa Cratchit, was helping their son, Little Lucas to walk to the table. Lucas was on crutches. They each got half a cabbage. “I never knew his son had a leg handicap like my nephew’s but worse.”
	“You never cared to ask,” said the Ghost. The Ghost then fell over (Don’t ask me how a ghost can fall over, just run with it).
	“Are you okay?” asked Fassad with uncharacteristic worry.
	“My time in this world grows short,” said the Ghost “You will soon meet the third and final ghost. The Ghost of Christmas’ yet to come (henceforth to be referred to as the Ghost of Christmas Future).” At this, the ghost disappeared and Fassad was back in his bed.
The clock struck two and Fassad woke up again. Standing over him was a two metre tall, hooded figure clad completely in black. “Are you the Ghost of Christmas Future?” asked Fassad. The Ghost simply remained silent. Fassad was suddenly in a dark alleyway. There were three people talking.
“Did you hear about his death?” one asked.
“Yes, and good riddance!” another replied.
“Goodbye to old garbage!” said the third.
“Who are they talking about?” Fassad asked. The Ghost took him to Flint’s house. Hinawa was crying. She looked like she had been for hours. The door opened and in came Flint.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Sadly,” was the reply.
“Who died?” asked Fassad. The Ghost pointed to a single crutch on the table. “Little Lucas? Not Little Lucas! Wait, everyone loved Little Lucas, so who is everyone being happy about them being dead?” The Ghost took him to the churchyard. There were two graves that weren’t there in Fassad’s time. One said “Little Lucas, Rest In Peace”. The other was covered by leaves. Fassad moved them and saw the following; “Ebenezer Fassad, Rest In Pieces” his own grave was next to Jacob Porky’s, his old partner.
“Tell me, spirit. Are these events that could happen, or will happen?” asked Fassad. The Ghost remained silent. “I see. And is there a way to stop this happening to Little Lucas?” again, the Ghost was quiet. “I see. Thank you.” Fassad woke up in his bed. It was nine in the morning on December 25th. Christmas Day. He ran outside, still in his nightclothes and flagged down the closest passerby. “You there! Yes you! Go down to the Tazmilly butchers and get the biggest turkey you can find. Take it to the house of Flint Cratchit with the following message, “Merry Christmas”. Do you understand?” the passerby nodded and ran off. Fassad then got his safe and emptied it into a sack. He took it to “Kumatora’s House for the Poor Children of Tazmilly” and gave them the whole bag. He ran to his Nephew’s house, knocked on the door, when it was opened, he hugged his nephew and shouted “Merry Christmas! Is that offer for Christmas Lunch or Dinner still available?”
“Uncle? Why the sudden change of heart? And yes, come in! Come it!”
“It’s a long story. Merry Christmas!”
So, from that day forth, Ebenezer Fassad never said Bah, Humbug or Nwehe ever again. He was no longer a Scrooge, but a nice, giving, kind man.