Disney's a Christmas Carol

by James Ponti

  The door creaked open, and Cratchit slinked over to his desk. He didn’t even take the time to remove his hat or jacket before he furiously began working at his desk, hoping beyond hope that Scrooge had not noticed that he was late.

  “What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?” Scrooge growled at him.

  “I am very sorry, sir,” Cratchit said nervously. “I am behind my time.”

  “You are, indeed,” Scrooge replied. “Step in here.”

  Cratchit closed his eyes in worry, certain that his boss was going to fire him for being late. He stepped into Scrooge’s office. “It’s only once a year, sir,” he said, trembling. “It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday.”

  Scrooge fought the urge to smile and continued his act. He threw down his pen in mock anger. “Now, I’ll tell you what, Mr. Cratchit,” he said as he marched over to the clerk, “I am not going to stand for this sort of thing any longer.”

  Cratchit’s face turned white, and he was about to faint.

  “And therefore,” Scrooge said, his scowl suddenly turning into a giant smile. “I’m about to raise your salary!”

  Scrooge laughed gleefully, and Cratchit had no idea what to think. Ebenezer put a supportive hand on his clerk’s shoulder and greeted him warmly. “A merry Christmas, Bob! A merrier Christmas my good fellow than I’ve given you in many years. I’ll raise your salary and do whatever I can to help your struggling family. And we’ll discuss your affairs this very afternoon over a bowl of Christmas punch! But first, let’s make the fires.”

  Scrooge shoved a pouch of coins into Cratchit’s hand. “I want you to go out and buy another scuttle of coal,” he said with a wink. “Before you dot another I, Bob Cratchit.”

  Cratchit did not know what to do. His first reaction was that his boss had gone mad. But there was something about his voice that made Cratchit realize his words were heartfelt. Scrooge was a changed man.

  “Off with you, Bob.” Scrooge laughed. “We’ve got wassailing to do!”

  Cratchit smiled at the thought of his boss dancing with Christmas joy. “Yes, sir,” he said happily. “Right away.”

  Bob Cratchit staggered weakly out into the street from the countinghouse, still uncertain what to make of all this. He lifted his hat for a moment to scratch his head, unsure if he should buy the coal or perhaps go find a doctor to examine Mr. Scrooge.

  He looked back through the window and saw the old man dancing a jolly jig and practicing his wassail. Scrooge laughed gleefully, and Bob Cratchit nodded with great warmth and happiness. There would be no need for a doctor and no need to worry about the darkness inside Scrooge’s heart.

  Like Bob Cratchit, many others would wonder what to make of the changed man that Ebenezer had become. Over the years, some would point and stare. But Scrooge never once let it get to him. It had been a great gift that Jacob Marley and the three spirits had given him. The gift of knowing the truth that beat inside him. The gift of a second chance in order to redeem himself.

  There would be no need for Scrooge to trudge through the afterlife chained to his earthly possessions. He went on to be even better than his word to Cratchit. He did all he said he would and more.

  From then on he greeted every day—especially Christmas Day—with the hopes of peace on Earth and goodwill to all.

  To Tiny Tim, Scrooge became like a second father, helping him to grow strong and even carrying him when need be. The vision of the Ghost of Christmas Present did not come to pass. Tim grew healthier and healthier, spending many happy days with his family and with Ebenezer.

  Scrooge went on to become as good a friend and master and as good a man as the good old city ever knew. He had no further involvement with the spirits, and it was always said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas well.

  May that truly be said of us, and of all of us. And, as Tiny Tim observed, “God bless us, everyone!”