Scrooge looked at the anonymous headstone and laughed.
“Is this what you brought me here for, Spirit?” he cackled. “Who in blazes is this?”
Death’s skeletal hand reached into his robe, pulled out a dusty ledger, and shrugged.
“Ummmmmmmm,” it said. “Dunno. Sorry.”
“This means nothing,” said Scrooge. “I can afford the best doctors. The best of the best. I’ve got plenty of sand in my hourglass, asshole.”
When Scrooge woke up, he hired a few men from the docks to pay Cratchitt’s family a visit.
“KILL!”
Let’s just say that Tiny Tim wasn’t the only one who needed crutches.
God bless us. Each and ev- *THUD*
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