A Contemporary

Christmas Carol

By Hieronymus Boz

A Contemporary Christmas Carol

By Hieronymus Boz
Copyright 2014
1st Edition

Stave the First:

The Old Toystore
Oh, and Scrooge was true to his word. He
gave up the base profession of counting
pennies and hiding wealth. Scrooge
reformed and became a generous spirit,
opening the Old Toystore solely for the
purpose of making children smile.

Every day the happy children ran beaming

into the Old Toystore, and the girls would
have tea parties with dolls, the boys would
play with toy cars and planes and soldiers,
and all would enjoy the challenge of the
puzzles and the magic of puppets dancing.
Most of all, they loved the lifelike little boy
puppet,
Pinocchio. When
Scrooge pulled
his strings,
everyone
watched.

Yet a shadow did loom over the quaint

Old Toystore. That shadow came from
Mephisto's, a large, multi-storey shop that
sold cheap toys. A new storey was added
to this
monstrous
centre weekly,
until the sun
that had gently
lathered that
Old Toystore
was hidden by
darkness.

The children still came to play, but their

parents did not buy. They instead bought
from the cheaper Mephisto's.
Scrooge's days of counting money were
behind him, but it was thrift and reserves
of money that he needed now, more than
ever.
It was ironic that on this Christmas Eve, of
all times, Scrooge's money problems
would force him to close the Old
Toystore forever.

On this Christmas Eve, children did still

play, and the parents still did not buy, and
Scrooge shut the door to the Old
Toystore, penniless.
He went to his bed forlorn and sad that
the money counters would soon knock on
his door demanding rent which he could
not pay, then demanding that good old
Scrooge be cast into the streets.
Scrooge knew that Christmas miracles
only happened once a lifetime.

"Who's there?" called out Scrooge,

disturbed in the darkness from his sleep.
It was creaking of floorboards, footsteps
that wished to be quiet as they sounded.
Scrooge's heart beat rapidly and
heavily, and he arose from his
bed, lit a candle, and crept.
A finger tapped his shoulder and Scrooge's
skeleton did nearly leap from its skin, his
breath lost in panic, as he swiftly swivelled
and saw a hooded beast. The shock
subsided, but the fear did not. Scrooge
trembled, unable to speak or breathe.
6

"Don't be afraid," said the hooded one,

wearing casual jeans and a relaxed smile
that Scrooge found terrifying in the
circumstances.
"I may be able to help with your finances."
Scrooge stuttered:
"Who... are... you?"
"Let me introduce myself," said the fresh
sounding youth, removing his hood,
politely placing an electronic tablet on the
floor so he could extend his hand.
"Im Mephisto."

Mephisto, that devil who had constricted,

wrenched and destroyed the Old
Toystore, that devil who had sent Scrooge
broke and ruined the happiness of the
town's children, stood before him.
"I can give you the cash to save the Old
Toystore, said he, but..."
But what? said Scrooge, the little
remaining colour in his cheeks now fading
to a deathly pale in anticipation.
"To save the Old Toystore, you must give
me Pinocchio," said Mephisto.

Mephisto posed an existential threat to Scrooges business model

"He... Hes priceless. I cannot sell him."

"Oh yes you can."
In the spirit of Christmas, pleaded
Scrooge, spare this special puppet. He is
carved of the True Cross."
"Bah! Commerce is the spirit of
Christmas, and fragmenting your priceless
toy will make me money. I tell you what
Ill be back on the stroke of six, and either
the Old Toystore will close, or you will
deliver Pinocchio to me and save all. Until
then, savour your three nightmares."

10

Mephisto did casually leave, not

retrieving his electronic tablet, the
apple insignia glowing. Scrooge muttered:
How dare he tell me, of all people, about
the spirit of Christmas! And three
nightmares! What nonsense.
Protest as he might, Scrooge had to
decide whether he could sacrifice
Pinocchio to save all. He could not. He
would not. But he had no choice.
And so Scrooge, with head hanging low,
hung a 'SOLD' plaque around the neck of
Pinocchio. He went back to bed sobbing.
11

Stave the Second:

A Nightmare
For a toy, being sold is like death. The Old
Toystore was the only reality that they
had ever known, and to be sold was to
have it all taken away. Death is the only
way that us non-toys can understand what
it is like to be sold.

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So when Pinocchio awoke with the

'SOLD' sign hanging around his neck,
though it was a single word it
read as a death sentence.
Pinocchio's happy days of
playing with the other
toys, of playing
with the children,
were behind him.
He had been
sentenced to death.

13

"Cheer up, old friend," said that dapper

locust in his left ear. "You have only been
sold because you have displeased your
creator. Why else would he get rid of
you? If you want to stay, you just have to
be a bit more of a palatable guest."
Those words were soothing to the
depressed Pinocchio. His death sentence
now had an escape clause.
"You mean..."
"I mean get serious, start acting in the
right way."

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Pinocchio of the True Cross was led by conscience rather than DNA

15

"Act the right way? How do I do that?"

asked Pinocchio.
"Oh, that's easy, I would have thought.
And obvious. All you have to do is find the
young, male toys and cut off the loose flap
of skin on their ears. That'll keep the man
upstairs happy."
"It will?"
"Absolutely, positively, obviously. No time
to waste, let's get to it!"

16

The first piece of skin was difficult to

remove from the baby boy, especially with
Pinocchios rusted knife, and especially
given that innocent, playful
Pinocchio was not made
for blood and cutting
flesh. How that poor
baby did cry as that
knife severed slowly, leaving a final, sinewy
strand hanging painfully, which Pinocchio
tore off with his wooden hands. Tears fell
in a bloody stream down the babys neck.

17

It was easier the next time, and the time

after that, as Pinocchio did sever the loose
pieces of skin from the ears of the boys,
all in the name of being a good guest.
With one baby toy to go, toy Santa did
see the bloodshed and did shout to
Pinocchio with jolly horror.
"Ho, ho ho! What in God's name is going
on? I see pain and suffering. And that is
just not right at this time of year. Its
Christmas!"

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Santa wanted to make a heaven on earth,

while others saw earth as heavens audition

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"Bah, its Santa! said the dapper locust.

This fool thinks that Christmas is all
about giving and happiness, when its
really about sacrifice. Take him
out with this slingshot."
" What? Take him out? Oh my!"
Yep. Just put the marble here.
Now hold the sling. Pull back. And wham!"
Before Pinocchio knew what he had done,
Santa lay on the ground with blood
spouting from his skull. Those rosy, red
cheeks faded to pale death, and those
suffering baby dolls did scream louder at
the sight.
20

Pinocchio did leave the scene with

speeding feet, muttering "Oh dear!" as he
fled. He did not turn to see that jolly old
man rise again, a pale and ghostly spirit of
Christmas. Nor did Pinocchio see that
Christmas spirit tend to each baby
lovingly, wrapping their heads
in bandages, their pain
lessening as they licked
their lollipops. They
became happy again after
this warm, caring
treatment, in the true spirit
of Christmas.
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Scrooge woke with a jerky suddenness.

Oh my, that dream seemed so real! It
was like my puppet was performing
atrocities, all to please me."
Scrooge smirked at the thought.
Not knowing whether he was dreaming
then or dreaming now, or awake both
times, he felt it necessary to inspect the
toys himself. In the shopfront he saw a bit
of unruliness, but was satisfied that a
nightmare it must have been. His
stimulated heart calmed, and he went back
to his bed.
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Stave the Third:

Another Nightmare

With the SOLD sign remaining around

his neck, Pinocchio's heavy mind returned.
"I have tried hard to keep the creator
happy, but he did not remove the 'SOLD'
sign. My death sentence remains."

23

"Cheer up, old chap," said the dapper

locust, again speaking into his ear. "You're
on the right track you just have to do a
bit more, and do it a bit better.
"More? Oh dear!"
"Yep, impress the man upstairs a bit more.
You must unleash plague on the toys,
Pinocchio!"
With that, Pinocchio unplugged
the rat holes, so that the vermin and
cockroaches and termites could run and
spread their germs to the toys, gnawing
away at them, making them sick.
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"You must throw hailstones of fire at the

gay toys!"
Pinocchio did as told, heating marbles on a
stove top then throwing those
molten projectiles down at
the toys who did not enjoy
the company of the
opposite gender, injuring them, maiming
them, disfiguring many of their faces.
These toys were now unrecognisable to
loved ones.

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"You must kill all the male first born!"

Pinocchio reclaimed his dagger, before rethinking this last request.
"Oh dear! I have already cut off their skin.
I do say, taking their lives seems rather
excessive."
"Bah! Nothing excessive about it. Were
just following the rules laid out in this
book, Pinocchio.
Oh, a book? Who wrote this book?
No questions, just do what it says is
right! Kill the newborns."

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So Pinocchio did not think, and set to

killing the first firstborn male he came
across, who happened to be a bandaged,
baby boy. Pinocchio pinned him to the
ground and raised his dagger, knowing
that the rusty knife needed force to
penetrate the baby's chest.
"Don't you dare!"
That powerful voice
stopped Pinocchio before he could
thrust the dagger. He looked back in
fright, and he saw the spirit of Santa
standing tall and strong before him.
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"Don't you dare harm that baby!"

Santas face had a loving seriousness, like a
caring vet who can sympathise with a
snake.
"Dear Pinocchio, in the spirit of
Christmas, I beg you not to harm another
being."
Santas faded face was imploring and
convincing, and Pinocchio
dropped the dagger to the
floor unintentionally. Then,
unable to face his foe, he ran
away.
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"Don't listen to that fool," called the

dapper locust, in chase. "Remember, its
not about stupid gift giving from a red sack
it's about suffering and the True Cross."
"Oh yes, its easy to forget that," said
Pinocchio, puffing and slowing.
"Then why settle for a maiming here and
some hellfire there? We can make all
suffer at once get it out of the way."
Why yes, it would certainly be efficient.
So we flood the Old Toystore, drowning
all but us. You cant be sold if youre all
thats left. Only question is, how?
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Scrooge woke again, sweating, hands

trembling, the nightmare just as real as the
last and as satisfying as a horror movie.
Scrooge remembered his days of greed,
acquiring the priceless plank of the True
Cross by bankrupting a church, and
hoarding it as he would gold. After leaving
those days behind, he decided to make the
wood into a special puppet that would
bring joy. Was this puppet now showing
the spirit of Christmas?
Scrooge was agitated, but once again fell
into a slumber of lucid dreams.
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Stave the Fourth:

Final Nightmare
Santa, that wonderful spirit intent on
making the world a more comfortable and
happier place, kept busy helping others. As
he finished bandaging the infirmed, he
found on the floor Mephisto's tablet with
the glowing apple insignia.

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The apple was the sinful fruit, half

consumed in Eden, that condemned all to
a state of harmful ignorance. Now this
apple could increase knowledge, idea
sharing, and allow all to have the
knowledge to make the world happier,
more comfortable.
The spirit of Santa did create a plan of 7
steps, to be implemented according to a
project plan. Finally, with total knowledge
at hand, good intentions could be
implemented in a foolproof way.
He wrote this plan on tablet.
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Tablets offer accessible solutions to all the worlds ills

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I think Ive got it! said the dapper locust.

To flood the Old Toystore, we walk to
the fireplace, we light a smokey fire, we
let the smoke rise high, and the sprinklers
will flood the Old Toystore so that
everyone except for you and me in the
cavernous fireplace are destroyed."
Pinocchio pondered this as he looked at
toys he had disfigured. No more did he
want to hurt anyone. No more did he
want to follow his locust conscience.
Okay, resolved Pinocchio, standing tall.
We shall light the fire.
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Pinocchio gathered large pieces of wood,

and he walked with them on his back,
slowly and painfully towards the
fireplace. When he reached it,
Pinocchio erected the wood and
he stood behind it.
"Ahh," said the dapper locust. "We forgot
about how well light this damned thing!"
Be patient, said Pinocchio, staring the
locust directly in the eye. Our creator
shall provide the spark for this sacrifice.
They waited, hiding amongst the wood.
Then the church bells chimed six.
35

As happened every morning in the Old

Toystore, at the chime of six a man not
yet bespectacled rushed his body down
the steep staircase, still half asleep, still in
his pyjamas, threw coffee in his cup, boiled
the kettle, grabbed a handful of bread and
buttered it roughly, braved the weather
outdoors, stooping with haste despite his
aching back to pick up the newspaper,
then quickly came indoors shivering,
threw whatever wood was needed onto
the fire and threw in a lit match. He then
warmed himself by the fire, coffee in hand.

36

"Where is it?" asked Mephisto, whose

appearance out of nowhere made Scrooge
jump. "Where is Pinocchio?"
Scrooge looked with sadness at
Pinocchios shelf. But he was not there!
Scrooge panicked. He searched and
searched, erratic, frantic. Pinocchio was
gone! How could he be gone?
Then Scrooge remembered. The
nightmares, and that last nightmare in
particular, where Pinocchio had taken
himself to the fireplace.

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Scrooge looked at the fire and Mephisto

followed his gaze. The flames took hold of
this puppet of the True Cross, peacefully
consumed by the fire in its final act of selfsacrifice, turning to ash, dissolving into
dust.

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Stave the Fifth:

The End of It

It takes tension to make a puppet dance.

This tension is between the string puller,
moving the strings upwards and sideways,
and the puppet itself, whose gravity pulls
downwards. Tension is a life force when
the strings are cut, all falls in a heap.
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It had all fallen in a heap for Scrooge, and

he wondered how it had happened.
The toys, led by Santa, had cut the
strings and made an existence
where they thought they did not need a
creator. But Santa had put too high a price
on their lives, and this ruined the cycle of
creation, shelf life, and sale that was
crucial to the Old Toystores purpose.
With their only guiding moral being
survival, the purpose of the toys lives
became circular and ultimately
meaningless.
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Pinocchio had not helped, either. He was

the one link between the temporal and
the ethereal, and decided to sever that
link through self-sacrifice. Pinocchio
reasoned that if the idea of a creator was
gone, bad things done by trying to please
that creator would go too.
The toys could use their own reason to
live their lives.
*

That was how Scrooge's Old Toystore

had fallen in a heap.

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Scrooge was now an outcast.

The creditors acted swiftly, and
Mephisto was ruthless in offering no
further mercy to the man who had
sabotaged his prize.
Scrooge was cold and shivering as he
settled down across the street from the
Old Toystore, looking on at the signs
being dismantled, the suited hyenas taking
out toys and valuables piece by piece.
He was unwell at this time, his dreams of
a happier existence destroyed, his world
view jaded.
42

A family with a small boy and girl, all

wearing Santa hats, walked past Scrooge,
the mother smiling his way.
"Merry Christmas!" said she.
"Bah!" was all that Scrooge could respond.
He watched the kids merrily fondle toys
as the family entered the Church, where
all would kneel before the sacrificial
cross, joyfully celebrating the birth
of that culminating figure of Biblical
horror. Then they would go home,
and know that with new toys and gadgets
their lives would be happier and easier.
43

Scrooge imagined their Christmas lunch,

and he spat at the thought. The family
would sit colourfully around the table, and
friends and relatives would likewise take
their seats. One obnoxious uncle would
boast about his worldly achievements
during the year. A pious aunt would
remind all that it is a spiritual occasion,
and to remember the cross. And there
would be tension at the table, arguments,
ending with he on the left muttering under
his breath, she on the right meekly
thinking injurious thoughts.

44

Scrooge watched other happy families

walk by, nonchalantly trapped in this same
tension between Santa and suffering.
Then a revelation hit Scrooge.
All mythology aside, Christmas is a time
when tension rises. Yet people, rather
than avoid it and hide away in misery,
instead anticipate, congregate, celebrate,
with friends and family.
Far from being bad, tension is a life force.
Scrooge smiled at the thought, and could
not help but mutter thoughtfully:
"Merry Christmas? Humbug!"
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