Man, the Women Were So Much Hotter When I Was a Curmudgeon

Ebenezer Scrooge here. I bet you’re wondering what became of me after the events of A Christmas Carol. I want everyone to know that I became a kinder, better person who showed mercy and charity towards his fellow man. And I’m here to tell you that I regret every minute of it, because the tail is so much juicier when you’re a rich and powerful bad ass.

It was well known among the London financial community: I was all about getting tail.  My nickname was E-Screw.  I wined, dined, and 69ed London’s finest. It was the rare morning that I didn’t wake up and open up the curtain to my king-size Victorian bed to see three or four strippers  strewn about the floor. It was ridiculous, man. Just ridiculous.

I tell you, my good man, the poot was ever-present and free-flowing!

All that stopped when I got the visit from the spirits. If you remember the story correctly, the Ghost of Christmas Past took me to see myself as a schoolboy. At one point she caught me staring at my old school marm’s ass for like thirty seconds. When she made a comment, all I did was grab my junk and say, “You just mad ’cause I ain’t lookin’ at you.” She looked all disgusted, but I think I kind of pushed her buttons, to tell you the truth. But as the whole ordeal got more serious, I quit with the innuendo. Eventually I stopped referring to my johnson as “An Undigested Bit of Man-Beef.”

I was so rich, women would literally throw themselves at me. I’m going to clue you in on a little secret: I have no idea what it is I did or do. All I know is I get a lot of money to do some financial consulting, or banking, or something like that. Cratchit handles all the paperwork. For all I know, we just counted money all day. Whatever. As long as it kept the whores coming back, I wasn’t complaining. Now it’s all gone. Gone and replaced by me buying the Cratchit’s shitty toys on Christmas.

The ladies were much more attracted to me when I had unmitigated  power. It’s an incredible aphrodisiac. I’ll give you an example: every time I fired somebody, I made sure to have a woman in my office while I did it. They loved it. Also, one time I got this one rival accountant in bed  by feeding mice to my boa constrictor right in front of her. See, but I had to give all that awesome kind of stuff up. If the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come ever saw me pulling that shit, it’s back into a fiery grave for me.

If you think I changed my ways out of some sense of goodness, don’t. It was all out of fear. I don’t care how good it feels to get your knob shined by some Asian nurse, it’s not worth burning alive. They haven’t invented a blow job that feels good enough to justify that. Look at what happened to Jacob Marley. Don’t get started on how many depraved threeways I had with that sickee and some intern. That was one deviant goose right there. By the way, I was a little skittish about having a menage with him seeing as that I’m straight, but it wasn’t gay or anything; our dicks never touched.

Sometimes I wish I could go back to my old ways. Especially with the way Tiny Tim has developed.  I still feel sorry for the fact that his legs are for shit, but he’s a whiny bitch who complains about everything. He wears black clothes, mopes all the time, and is forever mouthing off to Bob. He was cool for awhile but once he hit thirteen he just turned into the Douchemaster General.

As for me? I ended up getting back together with Belle. She’s 78. It’s all good, because I know I can trust her with my money, but she’s pretty frumpy. All in all, I’m glad that I’m not going to Hell, but it’s hard when I reminisce about the old days. I just wish there was some way to know whether or not there was an after life, so I could go back to being all about money and whores.

Oh well. In the mean time, just in case the Christmas spirits read this blog, may you and your family spend the holiday dining on a succulent Christmas goose!


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