The performance of my adaptation of 'A Christmas Carol' was to be the centrepiece of my Christmas party but the rehearsals are a shambles!
Act Four The Last of the Spirits
Narrator: The bell struck twelve. Uncle, lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.
Uncle: Oh it’s you Hootman! You’re supposed to be the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?
Narrator: The Spirit inclined its head. That is the only answer he receives.
Uncle: Lead on! The night is waning fast. Lead on, Spirit!
Narrator: Uncle held onto the wispy shadow of its sackcloth dress, and they passed forward through time. They found themselves in the Homeward Art Gallery, far in the future. The Old Monkey stands looking at the great painting of Uncle opening the Dwarfs Drinking Fountains, silently weeping.
The Old Monkey: Oh, Uncle, woe is me, for you are gone...how will we continue without your great wisdom to lead us?....gone….
Uncle: Spectre, am I ...dead?
The Old Monkey:….gone…. packed your trunk and trundled off to the jungle, off you rode with a trumpety trump trump trump trump
Uncle: I went back to the jungle?
Narrator: The Old Monkey is oblivious to Uncle and the spectre and continues talking to himself.
The Old Monkey: Who could blame you, Sir,…the dwarfs are such an ungrateful bunch…Look at everything that you have done for the citizens of Homeward and yet they always find something to moan about. Your responsibilities were as vast as your domain and who could begrudge you early retirement with a massive pension package. I just wish that you had taken me with you. I am sure you would have, if you had foreseen what was to befall your beloved Homeward….
Uncle: What’s he on about, spirit?
Narrator: The spectre draws him towards the window and Uncle beholds a truly chilling scene...The Badfort Crowd, armed with clubs and duck bombs, weave their way through the snow covered streets banging on the shop doors and demanding money. They hold a placard inscribed with the legend "Free at Last!" and decorated with an extremely unflattering portrait of Uncle! Hitmouse is intoxicated, sitting on many barrels of Black Tom.
Uncle: What are the Badfort Crowd doing?, carousing the streets of Homeward!
Hateman: Ding Dong Uncles gone! Yo-ho, let's open up and sing and ring the bells out. Barrels of Black Tom for everyone!
The Old Monkey: Oh, thank goodness dear Uncle is not here to see this! The Badfort Crowd have taken over his home! I knew those elections were a mistake – the dwarfs were taken in by the sham promises of Mister Hateman!
Hateman: Oi , Come on you capitalist pigs – time to pay your Christmas tax. We kno you is racking it in as usual! Time for a bit of redistribution! We need money for the new People’s Palace! 24 hour gambling and drinking! This is wot the people want! A singing competition every night!
Shopkeeper: Anti-market anarchist! No taxation without representation! Ouch!
Hateman: Sorry, I had to hit you – you are an exploiter of the proletariat!
Uncle: (very emotional): Spectre, are these the shadows of things that will be...or are they the shadows of things that may be only?
Narrator: The spirit appeared really annoyed – clearly not wishing to admit the truth….
Uncle: Ha! So I can change these events! In reality they are just your own wishful thinking. Well let me tell you, the Badfort Crowd will never take control of Homeward. I would never betray the trust of the citizens of Homeward!
I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach.
I shall never retire, for I know my duty - to serve my people and protect Homeward from the forces of anarchy. To teach the virtues of good citizenship and caring capitalism!
Hateman: Bah, you Humbug! Profiting from the labour of others, more like!
Uncle: That is not in the script! I’m tired - we will resume rehearsals on another day!