A Hearth's Warming Carol

[Bardigan]

A HEARTH'S WARMING CAROL

As presented by BARDIGAN and HIS LOYAL TROUPE OF THESPIANS

Funding and soundtrack by VINYL SCRATCH RECORDS

Cast:
Equinezer Scrooge-- Match Maker
Jacob Marley-- Romper
The Ghost of Hearth's Warming Past-- Rarity
The Ghost of Hearth's Warming Present-- Marble Memory
The Ghost of Hearth's Warming Future-- Big Macintosh
Bob Cratchit-- Fluttershy
Mrs. Cratchit-- Nettleglum
Tiny Tim-- Enigma
Fred-- Skyheart
Janet-- Bubble Berry
Belle- Derpy Hooves
Peter-- Pipsqueak
Martha-- A Very Happy Filly
Belinda-- A Very Glum Filly
Fezziwing-- Sugar Rush
Young Scrooge-- Solar Solstice
Donation Seeking Gentleponies-- Totally Not Lyra and Bon Bon In Moustaches
Narrator-- Bardigan and Comet Galaxy
Fred's Guests-- Lily, Rose, Daisy, Snowflake, Junebug, Pokey Pierce


ACT I


Vinyl_Scratch is sooooo rushed off her hooves! Running around, she hastily tries to talk to about twelve ponies at once while levitating about five objects in her magic and checking that all the setting is correct and the lights and the actors and that her own lines are learnt and *DEEEP BREATH*. Okay. "Ebenezer Scrooge!" she calls to Match, teasingly. "You all set?"

Match_Maker trots over to Vinyl. "As ready as I'll ever be. What do you think... Mare or Stallion for this performance?"

Romper chants his lines over and over, trying to commit them to memory. "See yonder banknote, see the stain upon it, I mock thee, horder of paper, flesh of trees, with each coin spent thou art spending thy humanity. The chains you forge in life drown you in the waters of the afterlife... okay. Yeah, okay, I can do this. I can do this. See yonder banknote, see the stain upon it..." Nervous, worried pony.

Derpy sees Spike and guards the punch zealously, though she only half understands why.

MArble is, as usual, at the wardrope. Reportedly he's been in that department now for four hours fussing and fidgeting over his costume, which he has changed 12 times and has driven the lead costumer to drink. The stallion suddenly shrieks and points to one sleeve. "It's one centimeter obtuse to the right one!"

<OOC> Vinyl_Scratch says, "HUMANITY, Romper?! XD"
<OOC> Romper says, "XD"
<OOC> Romper says, "PONY... anity...?"
<OOC> Vinyl_Scratch XD
<OOC> You say, "Ponanity."
<OOC> You say, "EQUINITY."
<OOC> Match_Maker says, "how about INSANITY?"

Romper chants his lines over and over, trying to commit them to memory. "See yonder banknote, see the stain upon it, I mock thee, horder of paper, flesh of trees, with each coin spent thou art spending thy soul. The chains you forge in life drown you in the waters of the afterlife... okay. Yeah, okay, I can do this. I can do this. See yonder banknote, see the stain upon it..." Nervous, worried pony. (repose! XD)

Match_Maker straightens up. "I'll do my best." she says... "So ah... What should I be wearing for this first scene?"

Derpy shakes off an outfit from her many many layers. It lands on Match Maker.

Vinyl_Scratch hmm. "Male if you wanna be traditional! Female would be an interesting take on the original... your choice." She then trots into the costume room and rolls her eyes at her husband. "Marble, we're *ghosts*. It's not rocket science. Just wear exactly the same as me, okay?"

Bardigan adds a hat on Match's head. "Show me your grouchy face!"

Gilda enters just behind Spike, head slung low, looking suspiciously around, like someone might -see- her here. The griffon follows the dragon down the aisle.

The winds outside flare up briefly, followed by a flash of light and a distant rumble of thunder. A few moments later Firefly walks into the Hall, wingls folded, flicking an ear as she heads for a place to sit.
Rarity is, of course in the dressing room, with a few of the other actors (Since her demand for her own private dressing room was denied. Repeatedly) Still, she's POSITIVE she's the best looking ghost of Hearthswarming....oh...shoot what was it? Oh, right, yes, Ghost of Heartswarming Yore. No... no...Ghost of Heartswarming...um...Day? Night...Oh...Drat. Where is that thing with the lines in it...?

"That's no reason we shouldn't look like well-kept gho-- SPIDER!" Marble freaks out, leaping behind one of the many many carts of costumes. This s going to be a long night.

Gilda takes a seat next to Spike. She leans over and adjusts his bowtie.

Fluttershy has arrived.

Twilight_Sparkle teleports in from somewhere, in a flash of light. *paf*
<OOC> Vinyl_Scratch says, "BOB CRATCHIT. "
<OOC> Derpy is shocked by language!!
<OOC> Twilight_Sparkle says, "BAB CROTCHIT."
<OOC> Vinyl_Scratch says, "Language? I said TINSEL, Derpy."
<OOC> Vinyl_Scratch
<OOC> Gilda says, "CROTCH BABIT"
<OOC> Marble_Memory says, "...O... O-Oh dear..."

Romper tries to learn more lines. "Thy soul, thy heart of death, rotten and black to the... ... the..." *thunk thunk thunk of hoof on forehead* ... "the darkest depths of thy being. The darkest depths... darkdest- darkest! Darkest..."

<OOC> Twilight_Sparkle giggles adolescently.

Firefly gives a nod to Twilight as she teleports into the Town Hall and grins to the unicorn. "To far to walk?" grinning.

Gilda calls back to Twilight. "Yo, over here. Spike's saving you a seat, it's the one he's on."

Skyheart glances over to a pony who's greeted him. Based on her comment she must be one playing his wife. "Um... Hello. Uh... I don't know if that's /exactly/ how things are going to play out but... er... You're supposed to be Janet, right? AAAAAHHH!" The sudden teleport freaks Sky out enough to send him backpedalling into a stage prop.

Match_Maker takes a deep breath and shows Bardigan her grouchy face. It's a VERY good one too, seeing as she starts to morph and warp her body. Soon she's... Well... She's not perfectly mimicing Nettleglum (she's a unicorn for one), but her grouchy, gaunt, and slightly scary form is borrowing heavily from the infamous Grimdark's shape.

Twilight_Sparkle grins back. "Oh, I did walk most of the way. But I've started reading this new book, 'How To Make an Entrance,' by Fillyson Gentlecolz. I'm practicing my moves."

Spike gives up his seat for Twilight, and sits on Gilda's back instead.

Vinyl rolls her eyes. Again. "Marble, just *come here* and let me re-adjust your costume! You look fine."

Gilda oof >:I

( Berry Punch nods enthusiastically to Skyheart! "They pulled me in. Always do, somehow! Want a cordial?" She offers the platter and the confections roll enticingly. )

Sundancer laughs. "It was nicely done too." then spreads her wings and flies over to wherever it is set aside for the Royal party to be.

Twilight_Sparkle smiles, and teleports a cup of cocoa into Spike's hands.

Bardigan pokes his head out of the curtain, making sure he is in the shadows, and peers at the gathering crowd. Simply seeing the audience is enough to give him a smile. Which quickly turns into a frown. Plays are serious business. He turns back and *yelps* at Match's sudden change. "Oh... oh, I forgot, the... changing, and. Yes," he says with few deep gasps. "Good work. FRED! BOB! Where are you? You're in the first scene!"

Berry is unfazed by Twilight's sudden arrival. She's a staunch Ponyvillian and is used to it.
Gilda says "Alright, let's get this trainwreck in motion."

Skyheart collides with Scrooges desk. Thankfully he was SUPPOSED to be on stage. "Uh... I think I'm
already here...." He says.

"You won't let the spider get me?" Comes the small, scared voice in the trembling white linens of the laundry. He swears, spiders know things.

( Comet Galaxy is beside Bardigan in an instant, nervously looking over her lines. Her hooves shiver a little as she clutches the papers. "Oh, oh my stars... Bardigan, I'm not sure this is really... I'm not... cut out, for... stage..." )

Gilda says "Hey, Twi, magic me some popcorn."

Vinyl sighs. "No, darling. I promise the spiders won't get you. Now come *on*." T-T

Derpy finally finishes peeling off wigs and outfits, and goes over to stand ready by the curtain, smiling placidly.

Applejack makes her way backstage to join the rest of the cast, ready to fill in if needed, and hoping said part doesn't involve a frilly dress of some sort. She trots into the dressing room with a bright smile in greeting to the others, but slows uncertainly as she passes Romper, stopping to tap him gingerly on the shoulder with a hoof. "Easy there, fellah. Ah'm sure you'll do fine! If ya don't give yerself a concussion, that is."

"H-here, Mr. Baridgan," says Bob Cratchett, although it's more like she's back *there*, in the shadows, the barest outline of her top hat and mutton chops visible as the stage lights filter through the curtain.
Romper jumps at the tap! Then grins to Applejack. "Hey, thanks," he says, chuckling nervously. "It's just so much to remember, but I think I got it. Mostly. They say it gets easier when you're out there in front of the lights, but I haven't ever done anything like this.

Twilight_Sparkle does. She even makes the bowl levitate. *paf* "Remember, Gilda. You're supposed to SHARE this popcorn."

( Ebeneezer 'GrimDark' Scrooge leers at Bardigan, tipping her horn towards him. "Pleasure." she says. "Alright. I guess I start... At the desk?" she asks, moving towards the prop. )

"Don't be silly. You won't even need to *look* at the audience. Pretend you're acting for the stars and not a crowd! Both of them watch your every move in utter silence, so it's essentially the same thing," Bardigan says a bit distractedly, quickly patting Comet on the back before turning to Skyheart. "Skyheart! Don't touch the scenery, that's the crew's job. Fluttershy, good to see you. Here, put these on!" And somehow, two separate costumes go flying towards them both from a single playwright's hoof.

Gilda looks cross with Twilight. "I know, I know. Hold it up so Lumpy-Arms can reach it once in a while. I'm not a /total/ jerk."

Derpy smiles at Applejack! She peers at her hair and becomes a little concerned. "Braaaid?" she asks the farmer urgently.

Skyheart ignores the rest of what's going on and takes his place just offstage after picking himself up.
Firefly sits back, unsure of LUna would make it or not, but at least she's making a showing. "Now if they only served good ale at these things."

( Comet gulps a little and steps out onto the stage. She might as well warm up the audience, as it were... she dips in front of the lowered curtains and smiles. "Fillies and gentlecolts, I welcome you all to a wonderful festive evening. Tonight, we are going to transport you far from your reality..." Just pretend they're stars, Comet... "And back in time... Tonight, we tell you a story of wonder! Of anticipation! But also, of the supernatural... Sit back in your seats, all, and prepare to be astounded." She dips back under the curtain and offers Bardigan her hoof. "Just like stars!" )

Chalice_Flame flies in and lands near the back of the group of ponies already gathered here. She's still got her leg brace on and she doesn't seem to want to draw attention to herself.

Derpy peeks out from stage right after Comet speaks, puzzled. She blinks at the audience.

Vinyl_Scratch is trying to drag her husband out to be with the rest of the crew and cast. Hoo boy.

MArble finally pokes his head out of the linens. "Okay... I'll cooperate." He puls himself out of the linens, a sock clinging to his flank like a cutie mark.

Bardigan quickly pulls Derpy back in and hurries over to the costume room. "It's near curtains! I better see some ghostly activity back here!"

( Berry Punch shrugs when her costar declines to take a cordial or coordinate their scene. She's used to winging things! She offers one to Bardigan. )

Gilda starts snoring loudly in her seat, leaning over against Twilight.

Bardigan takes the cordial and gulps it down, giving it back before he even gets out of hoof's reach.

Ghostly activity? Romper tries his best ghostly voice. "WooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooo. I am Jacob Marley, thy partner in life! OooooOOooooo..."

Vinyl_Scratch awards her husband's 'courage' with a kiss on the cheek as they join the other ponies backstage. Vinyl reads over her script anxiously.

Spike takes advantage to snag more popcorn.

MArble is still obsessing over his costume. then he gasps in horror at seeing some lint. He starts whacking at it wit a hoof. Die lint die!

Screenplay comes in looking around.

Twilight_Sparkle rolls her eyes. "Spike, is she drooling on me? I can't see."

Romper mutters to nopony in particular. "Wow, this stuff is harder than hard. I feel more nervous than when we went into the Changeling Queen's lair and Marble nearly died." He pauses, scratching his chin with a hoof. "It seems Marble nearly dies on every adventure..."

Spike peers down. "I don't *think* so." He tilts his head. "DO birds drool?"

Rarity is sitting in the dressing room (still) with an alarming number of hair sprays, make up cases, a hoof file, curlers, a styling wand, lip gloss, eye liner, Face powder, foundation, mascara, six different types of eye shadow, a bottle of lotion, and a large terrifying looking object, Rarity calls "The Exprience." Oh, she can't let her absolutely incredible outfit outshine HER on stage can she?!

Derpy allows Bardigan to pull her out of sight. She picks up a lint roller and carries it over to Marble helpfully.

Gilda blinks awake. "It's over? FINALLY, I thought it'd never end."

Twilight_Sparkle says "Gilda, do gryphons drool? I want to know for academic reasons."

Match_Maker goes and sticks her head through the door to Rarity's dressing room. "It's almost showtime. Move it or lose it!" she says, her face still a terrifying mix of changeling and Nettleglum-like death.

Spike says "Of COURSE it's not over! You haven't even finished your first bowl of popcorn yet!"

Gilda gives Twilight a dead stare. "...Sure, whatever. It's a recessive gene, or... some biological crap."

Twilight_Sparkle scribbles this in a notebook.

A magically amplified voice booms out: "Five minutes to curtain!" along with a squeal of magical feedback.

Gilda grabs a talonful of popcorn and looks at Spike. "Does she write down everything you make up about dragons?"

Spike says "No, of course not. She makes ME write it down."

"Braid?" Applejack echoes Derpy uncertainly. "Well, ah don't usually like ta fuss with-" But before she can argue, one of the ponies doting on Rarity, as if on queue, rushes over to swipe AJ's hat neatly off her head (with an indignant, 'HEY!', from AJ, of course), placing it on a nearby ponnequin before dragging a brush feverishly through her mane. "OW! Consarnit!" Can probably be heard in the audience. Wince. "Gently! GENTLY ah said!"

Berry Punch scarfs down the rest of her cherry cordials and savors them for a minute. Then she finally gets around to finding a costume.

( Comet is almost clinging to Bardigan by this point. Who knew such a usually confident pony could suffer from such dreadful stage fright? )

Twilight_Sparkle sips cider and peruses her program.

ANd behind the stage, to those creatures out there with ultrasonic hearing, there comes a high-pitched keening wail of panic.

And suddenly, the lights DIM. There's a bit of fumbling from the technical ponies who nearly plunge the room into pitch black. Then the lights are only dim. "Two minutes! Two minutes!"

Vinyl_Scratch glee! "Marble, this is soooo exciting! It's just like a concert! Aren't you excited?! Ohmigosh, ohmigosh."

"Places! Places now!" Bardigan shouts over a megaphone. "You there, stop brushing Applejack's mane! Places!"

Marble ten stares at the curtain. "O... O... O... O... O... O... O... O... O... O... O.. O-Oh dear..." Marbe suddent clings to his wife.

Derpy self-consciously stops braiding the farmpony's hair and moves to the curtains again.
Rarity pokes her head free of the dressing room and frowns, ears perking when she hears that irritating wailing from the megaphone. It's distracting from her applications! So she shuts and locks the door. Simple as that.

Chalice_Flame folds her three non injured legs underneth and gets ready to enjoy a show.

Match_Maker reaches out and grabs Rarity. "We're starting NOW." she half-shouts, attempting to drag Rarity to her place for the opening of the show. "Do NOT ruin this for the rest of us."

( A little orange filly trots in, looking for a seat. Spotting a familiar face, she sidles over to where Twilight and Spike are sitting - not to mention that *awesome* looking gryphon. "Hey, Twilight!" she says, plopping her blank flank down in a chair. )
Romper worries! Worry and stress. At least Marble won't be horribly killed this time. Probably not. Do ponies die on stage? They say 'break a leg'! ... uh oh.

<MAGIC VOICE> All actors ready for scene set.

Firefly is just...sitting there, watching the stage. She didn't even know what the play was about.

Derpy hears something like a buzz or a ding or something only she knows. Her eyes steadfastly tumbling about, she yanks on the curtain cord repeated with her mouth, reaching up to take another grip every two seconds. Jerkily, the curtain rises, revealing...?

Gilda shifts over to give the orange filly some space. "Watch it, kid."

The filly looks up a *little* fearfully at the gryphon, but then toughens. She casually flips her purple mop of a mane out of her eyes, offering a nod. "Sup."

The curtain rolls back onto what appears to be blackness. And then, one by one, details appear: a building with gentle candle glow from the frosted windows, a lamp post... a full snowy street with bustling ponies in the background. And one in particular, a dark brown stallion dressed in red scarf, steps out. Nopony will recognize Bardigan in *that* disguise, surely. "Marley was dead to begin with. No doubt whatsoever remained about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clerk, the clergypony, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it, finalizing the simple statement: Marley was dead. This must be understood if any good is to come of this tale." He gestures to Scrooge himself, who is highlighted nearby from the crowd. "Did Scrooge know? Of course! For he and Scrooge had been partners for... oh, I don't *know* how many years. He never painted out Marley's name in the sign above their door, and answered to both. Scrooge or Marley, Marley or Scrooge, it made little difference to him."

Rarity Gasps, and tosses Match's hooves aside. "Release me at ONCE darling, I'm PREPARING for my star role. Not ALL of use can just, instantly be whatever we want to be. "She snorts, dipping right back into the dressing room, and slamming the door- only to poke her head right back out. "And I don't even appear until the...um..." She dips back into the dressing room, with the sound of pages flipping wildly. "....Third scene! Plenty of time!" She snaps, and slams the door shut, only to open it again. "And RUIN it for you?! How DARE you, I, darling, am going to -enhance- it for you! HUMPH!" *S*L*A*M


Firefly hears a door slam somewhere, casually reaching for some tea she brought with her, taking a sip. "I hear Rarity is here."

<OOC> Fluttershy says, "(movie sign)"

( Comet Galaxy walks alongside Bardigan, looking around at the scene. "Jacob Marley and Equinezer Scrooge were shrewd moneylenders. Scrooge had, of course, retained the business after Marley's death, *and* thought little of it... You see..." A little breeze blows across the stage, and Comet shivers. "Scrooge was a tight-fisted hoof at the grindstone. A squeezing, wrenching, selfish and covetous old pony. And he had been all his life. Everypony avoided him - even the blind's dogs would pull their ponies away from him, as if to say 'It is better to see nothing at all than to see the world with evil, dark master.'" )

'Scrooge' steps forward, dressed in his best as per his usual habit, reaching up with his horn to knock the 'snow' from the sign, grunting as he shoves his way into the shop. "Cratchet! My letters!" he says, tapping a hoof impatiently. It was the very thing he liked, to be feared, than to be loved. To warn all sympathy to keep its distance. Nuts to Scrooge, the knowing ones would say.

Gilda peers down at the orange filly. "Same as you, I bet. Waiting to see whether this trainwreck gets started or my butt falls asleep first."

In direct contrast to Scrooge's somber march up to his place of business, a chipper young stallion in a thick, if tattered, brown coat, a long scarf and a messy top hat comes strolling up to the place. He knocks quickly before coming in at the sound of the bell. He has a grin on his face that could light up the dark bank. His voice is equally bright. "Happy Hearth's Warming, Uncle!"

Derpy peers out at the unfolding drama, eyes wide and a marveling expression on her face. She doesn't realize she's just visible to the audience.

And Bob...Bob Cratchett. Bob Cratchett, please come to the stage? Oops, there she is. Bob Cratchett, top hat tilted atop her pink mane, is shoved out onto the stage by a long wooden cane. SHe stumbles over to the fire and extends her hooves toward it, glancing back over her shoulder at the audience every couple of seconds.

Scrooge glares over at his nephew. "Happy Hearth's Warming... Bah. HUMBUG I say!" he says, climbing to his hooves. "What have you to be merry about? You're poor enough!" he snorts, before sliding a few bits over to a stack of already meticulously sorted cash.

The filly nods, then quietens as the play begins. She wonders if Rainbow Dash is anywhere in here? Maybe she's in the play itself! She'll know soon - Dash would *obviously* have a leading part.

Fred takes a slight step back. "Hearth's Warming? A humbug? Surely you don't mean that, Uncle. What have you reason to be so dismal about it. You're certainly rich enough." He gives Scrooge a playful jab and a laugh.

Derpy presses a button somewhere backstage and a swirl of fake, oversized snowflakes billow past the front of the scene in progress with a smooth =whoosh= of wind. Was she supposed to press that? No one can say, but she stands transfixed in delight before reaching to push it again.

Gilda eyerolls at the stage action. Seriously, these ponies have -boring- holidays. She takes a glance at the filly sitting next to her. Twilight's words about sharing the popcorn stick in her mind. Eh, what could it hurt. The griffon offers the bowl. "Here. If you're gonna be bored, it may as well taste good."
"H...humbug?!" screeches Cratchitt in her highest soprano. Then she seems to realize she wasn't supposed to say anything, droops her ears apologetically, and turns back to the fire.

"I DO mean it!" he says... Though for the life of him, he simply cannot think of a reason to give Fred. "Bah... Humbug." he mutters, going back to his banker's book.

MArble feels perhas a little romantic and leans toward his co-Present Ghost to smooch her cheek. Unfortunately his costume is rather long and he trips over it.

Scootaloo's eyes widen with positive *delight!* She reaches into the bowl and takes out a few kernels, popping them in her mouth and munching gratefully. "Gee, thanks!" she says, swallowing. "What's your name?"

Vinyl_Scratch is about to return Marble's kiss... until he trips on the floor beside her and faceplants.
Fred sighs. "Uncle, please. Won't you come dine with us tomorrow? Every year I offer an invitation and every year you decline. What reason have you for this?

Twilight_Sparkle watches Gilda and Scootaloo, a smile on her face.

Scrooge draws himself up and fairly LOOMS over his nephew, a menacing, forboding shadow. "I'll see you in Tartarus first." he snarls.

Fred takes a few steps back to keep himself from being stared down at. "But /why/, Uncle?"

Firefly angles an ear, tilting her head. "I've been to Tartarus..I did not see anypony like them there." wrinkling her nose a bit, then sipping some more tea. "Perhaps this was before my arrival...I shall have to ask a historian."

Gilda grins despite herself. "I'm Gilda. More -widely- known as the Baddest Bomber in Equestria. But I'm not from here. ...Who're you, kid?" Her tail twitches with curiosity.

Scrooge takes a deep breath, seeming to collapse in on himself a bit. "Why... Why did you get MARRIED?" he asks Fred, as if being married is one of the only things MORE heinously insane than wishing a Happy Hearthswarming eve.

Bob starts suddenly, glancing back over her wing again. Stiff-legged, she stumbles over to a bin full of crumpled-up papers - invoices, spreadsheets, Hearthswarming cards, and picks out one of the more disposable, taking it back to half-heartedly feed the fire.

Marble gets up and helps his wife up. And then he nervously gasps at all the lint and dust on their costumes.

Fred gasps in exasperation. "Why? WHY? Because I fell in love, Uncle. Why else would I get married?"

Vinyl_Scratch awws at Fred from backstage. She knows that feel, bro.

Scrooge snorts. "What a mule." he says, half to himself. "Good afternoon Nephew. The door is that way." the old, grumpy pony says, waving a hoof.

Berry Punch whispers to a fellow extra backstage: "No offense meant!"
"None taken."

Scootaloo straightens up, proudly. "I go by many names. Some call me the coolest kid in town, others call me a future Wonderbolt." She rubs a hoof across her chest. "I'd say both are true," she giggles, before extending her hoof. "But you need know only one. Scootaloo."

Fred again lets out a long sigh. "I am sorry to find you so resolute, Uncle. We've never had a quarrel you and I, but I cam all this way to give you greetings of the season and I'll keep my Hearth's Warming humor to the last so... A Happy Hearth's Warming, Uncle!" He says almost daringly as he tips his hat and backs out the door and off stage.

Gilda grins. She grips the foal's hoof in her talons and gives it a gentle shake. "You're funny, kid. I like your 'tude. D'you stunt?"

Fred peeks his head into the door and smiles. "And a Happy Hearth's Warming to you, too, Bob!" He ducks out again.

Firefly lowers her ears. "This Fred is just...TOO cheerful. I hope somepony boils him in his own pudding."
Bob Cratchitt dares to smile back...when she thinks Scrooge isn't looking, of course.

No sooner than it had closed, and the door opens again, with more ponies offering a Happy Hearth's Warming on their lips. They hold clipboards and pots which rattle with bits as they trot inside, and the first - a mare - offers Scrooge a warm smile. "Happy Hearth's Warming, sir!"

Scrooge starts up from his desk, horn glowing as he slams the 'door' on Fred. Then he turns slowly to regard 'FlutterBob', just as he starts to smile. "And you. Let me hear another sound out of you, and you'll keep Hearth's Warming by LOSING your situation." he says, before turning to yet ANOTHER interruption!
"Good Day Gentlecolts."

"Y-y-y-yessiiIIir," squeaks Flutterbob, Hearthswarming's favorite slide whistle. She gives a desperate, apologetic glance to the newcomers.

Another pony enters next to the mare, tipping his hat before removing it and fumbling with some papers in his saddlebag. "Ahh... This will be Scrooge and Marley's, right?" he asks the mare next to him, then back to Scrooge. "Have we the pleasure of addressing Scrooge or Marley, sir?"

Scootaloo glee! She shrugs a little, flipping her mane again. "Ah, well... I like to do tricks n'stuff, on my scooter. I've had, uh... recognition by some big names. Like... Rainbow Dash. She said I have 'nice moves'. That must be good, right? Comin' from *Rainbow Dash!*" the filly burbles, unaware of the gryphon's past with her idol.

Scrooge glances out the window at the sign. "Mr. Marley is dead. And has been for seven years. Why, he died seven years ago, this very night." he says, his eyes distant.

Romper-Marley, very faintly and ominously, makes a soft "woooooooooooooooo" noise. But it could be the wind. Nopony knows...! Ooooo...

The stallion's hoof slowly lowers, the paper coming with it. He and the mare share an uncomfortable glance. "Well, we've no doubt you're of a like mind when it comes to the venerable virtue of generosity, sir!" the colt says. "The winter's been especially harsh as you know, and the windigos are howling something fierce! Seein' as how this is the season our forefathers gave us this good land, it's customary to give a little ourselves. To lend a hoof to the needy among us, sir, as they've got little shelter to speak of." He hands out their credentials once again, waiting it seems for Scrooge to take them or Bob to hoof them over.

Gilda's brow furrows and she looks -significantly- unimpressed at the mention of Rainbow Dash. Ugh, SERIOUSLY? How small IS this town? Does EVERYONE know Dash, here? "Eh. Rainbow Dash, huh? Yeah, I used to fly with her, back in the day. She was pretty good." She turns to look down at Scoots, looking reflective. "The best, actually. I was the Almost Best, by a wide margin, but I was never like Dash. But forget that dork, she's not really that good of a friend when you get to know her."

Scrooge and Marely were INDEED of like mind when it came to generosity. That is to say, they were about as far from being generous as Discord was from being neat and orderly. "Excuse me I don't KNOW that." he says, taking the credentials and looking them over briefly.

Bob scampers forward, cringing as she moves into the range of Scrooge's scowl. "Um...hello, I'm...Flutter- I mean, Bob - I mean, Bob Marley - I-I mean Cratchitt!" She's just about to take the credentials when Scrooge snatches them away. Oh dear.

Angel jumps up and down from just in front of the first row of seated ponies waving small yellow flags with pink butterflies on them.

( Both gentleponies give Fluttershy cheerful smiles and Hearth's Warming Wishes. The mare turns back to Scrooge, frowning. "Oh, but it's quite common knowledge sir! The poor and destitute are among us, why, right outside the window..." And the strains of a few happy carolers comes floating in through the forbidding frosted glass. "And they need the help we can give, Mister Scrooge." )

Derpy presses the snowflake button again. Hopefully nothing goes blowing away in the resulting mini-gale.

Spike claps! So far the snowflakes are his favorite part.

Angel tosses Spike a small plastic lidded bucket. Inside, an arrangement of small gems from the "Crystal Snackables" company.

Scrooge snorts again. "Are the Rock Farms still open? The Poor Fields? The Treadmill and the Mule's law?" the gaunt stallion asks, not quite looming, but appears to be about to.

Firefly lifts an eyebrow at the wind. "Ohhh..something is happening."

"All very busy," the gentleponies agree. "But there's much what goes into them that doesn't come back out, Mr. Scrooge! They scarcely furnish Friendship's cheer. Ponies banging away at the rocks and seeing little return whatever riches they uncover. And the Paper Mill is a grind unlike any other. So we're endeavoring to set up a sort of common fund, sir, in the name of Harmony." The mare pulls out a quill. "What shall we scribe you for?"

Derpy frolics among the other backstage button happily, pressing them at random. The light gets eerily dark, then yellow, then spectrally inverted. o.o And then a swarm of lightning bugs buzzes through the scene. And a ripe tomato goes sailing through, propelled by a catapult. At that point, one of the stage hands grabs Derpy and drags her off for a talking to.

"Nothing." says Scrooge. "I don't make merry at this time of year. And I can't afford to make idle ponies merry either. I HELP to support the establishments i have mentioned, and those who are badly off, must go there."

Both ponies lament Scrooge's stubbornness with an audbile, synchronized sigh. "But many can't go there even if they want to. They're out in the hinterlands where monsters and creatures abound. It's far too great a distance already. You could die on the trip or die when you arrive, so many would rather die right here!"

Spike waves his thanks to Angel, and crunches loudly on the gems.

Angel smiles and salutes Spike, then returns to cheering for Flutterbob.

Scrooge's aura of menace and darkness seem to grow, a palpably malignant corona. "Then perhaps they had best go to the changelings and serve as their food. Perhaps THEN they shall be of some use to society."

( Scootaloo hears Gilda talking about Rainbow Dash like that, but it doesn't fully compute. Her poor brain seems to be overheating as she pushes squirming in her seat to a new level. "Not...not the best friend?" she echoes. "Pr...pretty good?" She frowns, looking uneasily back up at the griffon. "Uh, heheh... yeah. That's nifty. Uh... oh, look, the show's gearing up! Wonder how they did all that with the lights. Let's watch." She leans forward and watches, still as a statue, eyes wide. Apparently she doesn't want to talk with Gilda anymore for now. )

The aura of menace is so great that poor, timid little Bob is forces bodily back from the door. "H...Happy Hearthswarming," she squeaks to the solicitors...and then squeaks again, darting away. Now she's done it, she's sure.

There's a concerted gasp from the two gentleponies as they recoil in visible disgust! "You can't mean that sir," one says. "We're starved for love as it is, never mind giving it to the changelings! We need to show what love we can in these hard times," they try one last time.

Angel jumps up and woooos! Waving his little flags.

Scrooge thumps a hoof on the desk. "The cities are getting too crowded as it is! They had better find what they are to do, and do it quickly!" he says indignantly.

Gilda quirks her eyebrow, noticing Scootaloo's diminished interest. She knows enough to know when a kid is BSing her, and rolls her eyes at the filly. "Eh. Whatevs. Everyone's a fan I guess." She grumbles, munching some more popcorn and lifting the bowl to Spike.

<OOC> Gilda awws. She didn't mean to destroy Scoot's little world.
<OOC> Angel thinks it is Ok, Scootaloo's reality check bounced long ago.

The two ponies share a dismal glance with one another. "Well, then, I think-" the colt begins, but the mare shushes him. The two of them bow stiffly in unison, take their hats from the rack once more, and head for the door. "Happy Hearth's Warming!" they try as cheerfully as they can for Cratchit's sake... then exit the scene once again into the synthetic snow, leaving poor Bob alone with Scrooge in the dismal, dimly-lit office once again.

Firefly blinks. "And this is what passes for snow?" leaning over to Twilight. "What do you think, about six incehed of the real thing?" snickering.

Scrooge goes about the rest of the day with a vasty improved opinion of himself, as undeserved as it is. He stretches, his magic floating several books around him as he makes notes in each one. "Five shillings. Twelve pounds..."

"Um." There's another squeak from the dilapidated fireside desk as Bob makes his existence known once again. "I...um, M-Mister Scrooge, Sir, if it's okay with you, um, c-could I...I mean, I'd like - be assertive - I'dlikeHearthswarmingofffromworkifthat'sokaywithyou?"

Scrooge lowers his little glasses as he peers at Cratchetshy. "And I suppose you MUST have the whole day? It's not convenient! And if I were to dock you half a crown for it, You'd think yourself ill-used!" he says. He's not shouting, and oddly, he's never once shouted or screamed at Cratchet, no matter how upset he gets.

Twilight_Sparkle turns to firefly, and tilts her head. But she's had a glass of cider, by this time, and anyhow, she's always enjoyed adding a little verissimilitude to theater! She grins as mischievously as she can, being Twilight Sparkle, and moments later there's a dark cloud high above the stage, and little powdery snowflakes are drifting down.

Firefly snickers and grins. "A little realism never hurts..." then peers at Twilight. "Element of Magic, you had cider and did not share any?" holding out her half empty teacup. "Mayhaps might I dilute my tea slightly with your libations?"

Bardigan glances up from somewhere backstage at the ominous cloud. "Goodness," he says, "I hope that's within our budget."

Angel rumages in his little tote, having noticed Gilda. Ah! He DID have it! He tosses her a leg of ham with a 'sup' sistah' paw sign.

Twilight_Sparkle smiles. "Happy to help!" As with the popcorn and previous cider, she apparently teleports some more cider in from somewhere; Firefly's mug is suddenly full of warm cider, a little steam drifting up. "If it gets out that I've been working on THAT spell, next time they'll have me doing concessions."

Nomad quietly sneaks in through an upper balcony window. No no, he's not late at all. No way, not this pony. He's.. being polite. Yes. And not opening one of the main doors and letting the outside light in. Yes.

Spike stares at Angel with a mild look of horror, wondering where a rabbit gets ham.

Gilda blinks at the ham, then at the rabbit! Then flashes an enormous grin! And gives him a thumbs-up. "Arright, score, it -was- worth the effort dragging myself over here." She munches the ham delightedly.

"Um..." Cratchitt quails, leaning back into her desk and pushing it against the wall. "I-if it's...quite convenient, sir. I mean, you don't have to...it's only once a year..." SHe takes off her hat and holds it in front of her muzzle, grinning sheepishly over it.

Firefly sips her new blend and hmmmms. "Fear not Element of Magic, thy secret is safe with me." sitting back to see what happens to the Scrooge fellow next.

"Poor excuse for thieving from a hard-working stallion's pockets every year. But I suppose you MUST have the whole day." he says, before stalking over and leaning close. VERY close into Bob's face. "Be here all the earlier the next morning. Understand?"

Fluttershy drops her hat, eyes wide. "No sir! I-I mean, yes sir! I certainly will, sir!" And with her face full of joy and relief, she darts to the door before Scrooge can change his mind, barely remembering to reach back for her hat.

Scrooge nods, and dons his coat, stumping out into the street to head home. He watches Bob gallop on towards Ponyville as fast as 'his' little feet can take him.

Firefly sips her cider tea and angles an ear, still talking aside with Twilight. "I still think those beggars should be blasted into next summer." nodding matter of factly.

Twilight_Sparkle clicks her tongue, and remarks to Firefly, "Talk like that, and you might be visited by three spirit ponies with their own agenda."

Firefly sorts her feathers. "Bah...ghosts....entities that failed once to BE a ghost. And I've been to Tartarus...not ONCE did I see any ghosts that walked around going 'wooooooo' and waving plasctic chains. I am beginning to question the authenticity of this play."

Bardigan returns to the stage, shadowing Scrooge just as he shadows his employee. The playwright shakes his head. "Ahh, Scrooge. He carried his low temperature with him wherever he went. One could almost argue that he was half Windigo; some of the children swore up and down his coffee would freeze before it even reached his lips! He took his melancholy dinner at a melancholy tavern before taking himself to bed in his gloomy chambers. Furnished with architecture from old Unicornia, but the only glow of magic was the sputtering silver of Scrooge's own horn, which many would tell you looked quite bent in the right light. But he made a fire, if one could call it that, for it was scarce more than a bundle of embers that burned so low one would think they believed they had better things to do. And Scrooge, with his gruel, brooded over it, as was his custom..."

Angel keeps waving his little yellow flags with the pink butterflies on them to cheer on Flutterbob.


Scrooge grumbles to himself as he puts on his dressing gown and slippers, brooding over his gruel and sipping at it fitfully. He would have to buy another scuttle of coal tomorrow. He was down to his lasy pawfull of fuel. It's been a long day, and after this gruel is over... He shudders, remember the face of his dead partner on the doorknob.

Romper-Marley, just off-stage, drags the heavy chains across the wood of the stage. Clank, clink, clang... shrrrrrk, shrrrrrk, shrrrrk.

"WooooooooOOOOOOOooooooooo... Scrooge!" A pause, then, "SCROOOOOOGE!" He accidently drops one of the chains, making a loud clang and a rattle, but it's okay. That helps the illusion. He gingerly hooks it back on his hoof, then flexes out his wings, taking a deep breath. Gotta be brave... can't be a fraidy pony in this time! He flap-flaps gently, lifting himself about an inch or two off the wooden deck. The large sheet he has draped over his body flutters as he pretends to be a ghost, ready to go on stage.

Scrooge fakes a gasps, clutching his cushions in terror, holding on tight to his couch to save himself from falling in a swoon.

Romper floats onto stage, his sheet billowing, blinking through the two eyeholes, his sheet covered in bank notes and ledgers. "Scro-ooooo-ooooge..." He floats over to center stage, although sharp-eyed ponies will see he's balancing on his rear left hoof.

Scrooge clutches his couch. "What do you want with me spirit! Why do you walk the earth in this shape?!"

Firefly blinks seeing the 'ghost'. "One wold think they would have borrowed some real ghosts from the Steward Nettleglum...I am sure she would be more than willing to loan them a few at little to no cost." sitting back, sipping more cider-tea.

Backstage, Bardigan scratches his head, feeling like there's an idea that should have come to him, but can't for the life of him think of what he was supposed to have thought.

Wobbling unsteadily, Romper-Marley tries to keep his wings tucked in as close as possible. "Much!" Booms the ghost, afixing his stare on Scrooge.

"... Can you sit down? Please?" asks Scrooge. "You're particular, to a shade." he murmurs. "What business returns you from the Summer fields?!"

Romper-Marley flitters down to the ground, his hooves hitting the wood with a distinctly unghostly clump. "I am your partner, Jacob Marley... See yonder banknote, see the stain upon it, the chains of my dispair; you and I, horders of paper, the flesh of trees, with each coin spent I spent my own soul. The chains I wear now were the chains I forged in life, drowning me in the waters of the afterlife..."

Scrooge glances around, fully expecting to find himself entwined in some fifty or sixty feet worth of iron chains. "Speak comfort to me Jacob. Say that I might avoid such a fate as yours!"

Gilda slumps over for the forty-th-- forty-fourth time since this dronefest started. The bowl is empty of popcorn, and Twilight stopped responding to talon pokes in the shoulder approximately SEVENTEEN HOURS AGO. She hangs the bowl upside down on Spike's head, and turns to look at Scootaloo. "Hey, kid. I'm bailing out. Y'wanna move over for me?" She looks like she wants to say something more, but the words aren't forthcoming.

Romper-Marley, now a bit more confident on his four hooves, tries to sound a bit more authorative with his voice, shaking his haunches to rattle the chains. "I have none to give! No time, no rest for my bones, no lingering in this world! My spirit never left the confines of our bit-changing hole, and none of Celestia's spirit entered our tiny hole! Our mortal lives, forever cut too short, no regret can save you, your life misused! As was mine, oh, such was I!"

Chalice_Flame seems to have to slumped over and fallen asleep, she's probably leaning slightly on which ever pony happened to be sitting next to her by now.

Firefly is awake and relaced. Hard cider did that. She was now best prepared to watch this play, though still thinks Scrooge is the hero.

Spike pushes the bowl back, wearing it like a helmet, and grins.

Scrooge sags back in his couch, nearly swooning. "Neigh! Neigh Jacob! Say there is yet some hope!" he begs.

With the clatter and clang of chains Romper-Marley billows his cloak. "You shall be visited by three spirits," he proclaims, "without their visits you cannot hope to avoid the path I tread! Expect the first tomorrow, when the bell tolls one!"

Scrooge pauses. Alright. This isn't so bad... "Could I...erm... take'em all at once and get it over with?" he asks, his horn lighting as he sips his gruel. This frightening creature...

Romper-Marley shakes his chains some more! "Neigh, you cannot, for the second will come at the next night at the same hour, the third upon the night after that, when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate! Look no more upon me, pony, and for your sake remember my words!" Romper steps backwards, floating a little, and then slips off stage.

He drifts backwards, out into the wing, safely out of view. Then lands, slips, stumbles and comes down in a crash of chains. Ow. At least he's offstage...

Scrooge trembles exceedingly as the spectre departs. He goes to his front 'door' and makes a show of locking himself in with each and every bit of chain. Then he paces back and forth. "Neigh... T'was but a dream. A trick of my magic upon my old mind.' he says. And, much in need of repose, he went straight to bed, and fell asleep upon the instant.

Firefly can't help but snicker. "Poor foal, anypony knows doors and locks mean nothing to a ghost who can just float through them." and sips more of her cider.

<OOC> Scrooge bows to Luan.
( Luna. )

Gilda nudges Spike. "Hey, tell Twilight I'm outta here. This thing bit the dust hours ago."

<OOC> Match_Maker says, "Heh. Short attention span much? :-:"
<OOC> Spike says, "She has the combined attention spans of a kitty and a bird."

Spike says "Aw. Okay. See you later?"

<OOC> Firefly laughs
<OOC> Gilda says, "There are no griffons in this play. Boooo."
<OOC> Luna says, "So, slightly less than Apple Bloom."
<OOC> Angel says, "Hey, no bunnies either!"
<OOC> Twilight_Sparkle says, "Except the Gryphon of Christmas Boredom."

Gilda nods. "Yeah, I'll meet you back at the library for a nightcap or something. Lates, shortstack."

Twilight_Sparkle distractedly waves a hoof to Gilda.

Angel sits and nibbles on some lettuce while waiting for the real star to return, Bob Cratchet.

The lights flicker, and at first...there is nothing- then a great and glorious CRASH followed by a BANG and this is followed by a hot jet of smoke. If anypony thought that was the reveal of the ghost of Hearthswarming's past, they might be mistaken, because a few moments later Rarity comes rushing onto the stage, out from the right wing, looking sheepish and mouths something that looks a lot like "Fire Extingisher" To somepony in the wings. She pauses, slowly turning towards the audience, and flashes a sheepish sort of grin, before throwing a hoof dramatically towards the seats. "..." And waits....and waits...and then turns to the wings and hisses. "There is SUPPOSED to be a chime!" She snorts, and blanches when one of the stagehoofs shrugs. ".......BRRRRING. BRRRIIIING! I am the Ghost of Hearthswarming Eve's Past!"

( Scrooge, rather nonplussed by Rarity's entry, blinks and stares up from the matress laying in the middle of the stage. "What art thou, fell shade? Are you the spirit, whose coming was fortold to me?" )

Rarity strides onto the stages towards Scrooge, wearing a bright white showl encrusted with glittering rubies and a face full of makeup that is FABULOUS. "Darling, -I- am the spirt of the past. "She announces.

Gilda pushes her way out of the row of seats she's in, and shuffles down the aisle. She gives a last glance at the stage before stretching her wings, pushing open the door, and taking off. Woosh!

Spike stands up and applauds at Rarity's entrance.

Scrooge blinks, but goes with it. "I see. And are you the chance and hope that Jacob procured for me? Why business bring thee here?"

Firefly leans over to Twilight as Spike stands. "I see thy assistant has a thing for Miss Rarity." then giggles. "Does he know he is...dare I say it, out of his Element?"

Rarity tosses her mane with a well practices toss and flashes a lovely smile towards the audience. "Your well being, of course!" She announces.

Spike smiles dreamily and nearly melts, feeling like Rarity is looking right at him. You can practically see the little hearts floating above his head.

Scrooge, having no better answer, decides to be smart, as a means of distracting his own attention. "Perhaps a night of unbroken rest would be more conducive? Beauty sleep you know."

Rarity rolls her eyes immediately. "Darling, you would need to sleep for one hundred Yea-errrr, No no, darling. I gurentee, this, is going to be MUST more benifical to you. "She exclaims, and STOMPS her hoof. ..... And...STOMPS her hoof .....And then turns and glances off to the side. After a few moments, a *SQUEAKY* backdrop slowly slides into place behind them of the country side...

Now Match Maker, in her masculine and be-nightcapped persona, still rather twisted by sleeplessness and resentment, leans forward to gaze at the scene before her. Er, him. "Most beneficial? Surely you don't suggest--" But a better look changes his tune to a more mystified key. "Good Heaven! I was sired in this place. I was a colt here!"

Rarity looks around quietly, wincing at Scrooge's announcement. "Ugh, yes, that is most unfortunate, and I AM dreadfully sorry dear. What is that upon your face? Are you crying darling? I don't blame you. Anyhow, Lets see....ummm... AHEM. Lets uhm...Errr...Do -YOU- remember the way, Scrooge?

As they speak, a carefree group of colts pelts past, kicking up the snow. "Last one home is a stinky minotaur! I'm going to eat *all* the figgy pudding!" they shout, taking absolutely no notice of Past and Scrooge.

Scrooge seems a little perturned at the comment about his face. He pushes back his nightcap and grimaces. "This... this is simply my natural countenance, spirit. If you find it ugly, perhaps you should direct your attentions elsewhere!" But Scrooge's attention is already elsewhere. He walks forth into the scene, marveling at each gate, post and tree, past soe shaggy ponies pulling a modest cart, until they arrive at a schoolhouse. "Why, that was Chip! And darned if those werren't Caramel Crunch and Snookums!" He laughs from a place long dusty. "But is there anypony left in the schoolhouse? Why am I drawn this way?"

( The pony who's been sleeping since practically the play began rolls over in her seat, dunking her muzzle right into the flagon of lumpy goo Nettleglum had prepared as if her beloved princess were pleasant. Instead of drowning, the sleeping mare swallows it all, and the aftertaste when she wakes up will DEFINITELY teach her a lesson about being polite to performers. )

<OOC> Dusk says, "Figgy pudding. :-)"
<OOC> Luna can't resist Nettleglum's cooking, okay? It reminds her of her childhood.

Rarity sighs a dramatic sigh and trots forward and gestures towards a place on stage. The lights dim, and on the other side of the stage, a spotlight appears. Rarity sighs, and the light quickly zooms over to where she's pointing- over a small foal sitting alone and quiet. "No, Darling. The school is NOT empty...there is somepony there, as you can see. A sad little thing, neglected by his friends, is left there, still. "She explains.

There is, indeed, a young colt brooding in the classroom, forlorn and solitary as he bent over to read the book on his desk. He looks very much like a certain machinist-pony, but younger...actually youger, and not merely in costume. Hmm. Regardless, there he is, sinking into his seat as those the words on the pages were dragging him in, keeping him restrained in his prison of words that have no meaning. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.

Scrooge peers through a window at the solitary figure engrossed in his book, and sniffles. He wipes a nothing ness off his face. "Yes, I know," he answers the Ghost. "Neglected, yes, but not alone. Ali Baba is with him, and the Sultan's groom, and the chimaera, and Herpules and the hydra, and the dread windigo." In succession, the miser laughs and cries, turning a profile to the audience. "How I wish...ah, but it's too late now."

<OOC> Luna says, "Ah, Derpules. We are SO GLAD we didn't sleep with him."
<OOC> Marble_Memory says, "... O... O-Oh dear..."

Rarity trots past scrooge, looking towards the little one in the seat, then towards the older codger, and waggles a hoof. "Well...you...certainly look as if you know him...But tell, Scrooge? What is it? What is too late, hmm?"

Scrooge sighs, eyes on his younger self. "Ah... there were some colts singing Hearth's Warming songs at my door the other day... I... I only wish I'd given them something, that's all," he mumbles.

Rarity Grins quietly, trotting forward. "Oh, darling, I think we can work with that. "She exclaims, and the spotlight goes out, turning to full lights, revealing Scrooge pacing back and forth, a young adult now- with a seamless scene change, leaving Rarity looking...in awed at the stagehooves. They shrug. She shrugs.

Scrooge looks anxiously between the swiftly rearranging furnishings and the Ghost, and then, seeing himself a bit older in the same schoolhouse, shakes his head mournfully.

Without warning, a young filly comes charging in, heading directly for the young Scrooge. A pony quite beside herself with happiness, her yellow cheeks all aglow under her mop of a mane. Though only around half the height of young Scrooge, she manages a flying leap at his neck, wrapping her hooves around him as her dress flaps behind her. "Brother! Brother! I've got the most wonderful news! Are you ready?!" she gasps, breathlessly.

Should anypony care to observe carefully, they might notice the tendrils of cold, lingering shadow that waft about the changing stage, and in particular around the young Scrooge, who before the audience's very eyes ages several years as he gets up to replace the book into a shelf that shifts right into its position. The young Scrooge becomes animated as the filly suddenly bursts in and embraces him. "My word, little Fan, such energy!" he declares, in a baritone half-full in adolescence. "What's happened?" Already he begins to smile, so infectious is little Fan's excitement.

"What else?!" the excitable filly babbles, running in speedy circles around Solar. "I've come to bring you *home!* Home, home! Isn't it wonderful? Father was in such a wonderful mood last night, you'd think he was a rock farmer striking gold! I wasn't afraid to ask him about you, whether you should come back, and he said..." She stops and puts her forehooves up on his chest, speaking in an awed hush. "He said 'Yes!' And you're to be apprenticed at a party maker's warehouse outside Manehattan! You're going to be a *real stallion*, Equinezer! And you're coming home!"

Rarity gives a heavy sigh, gesturing towards Fan quietly. "Your Sister...a frail sort. But a huge heart darling, absolutely and true. "She explains more so to the audience

The young Scrooge gazed at his sister blankly, as if struck by disbelief, but soon he began to smile, and smile so big. "Home," he says, the words like sweet honey in his mouth. "Let's go, Fan. I can't wait!" And so they did, the scene shifting at once as they came to a grand drawing room and enjoyed themselves, quaffing wine and good food and experiencing the bliss of good company. Yet, even then, the scene starts to fade...

Scrooge gasps quietly, nodding and admiring the delicate creature... his sister, now gone. Fan. "Yes, yes, true. I will not gainsay it, Celestia forbid."

"You're never going to guess," Fan says, her voice growing ever more distant, as though through a long tunnel as the scene darkens. "Your new boss' name is *Fezziwing!* Have you ever heard such a name? Even worse than poor Cucumber Crunch..." And Fan is suddenly gone, from the stage and from the world.

Rarity looks on quietly, for a few moments, before she sadly shakes her head. "...Your sister, dear, sadly, died a young mare. But I believe she had...a foal? Yes? The only family you've left.... A son. Your nephew, Darling. Fred, as I recall. "She says quietly, gives her mane a practiced toss, and turns towards the left of the stage. "I think, dear, it is time to see another Hearthswarming. Come along. "She says and the lights change along with the scenery- another seamless change that leaves Rarity utterly baffled and staring. Fezziwing is seated at a high desk, busily writing something

Match Maker's Scrooge nods along and agrees with the Ghost of Hearth's Warmings Past. "Yes, one child. Yes... a breath could have wilted her! And... and did." He grows distant and macabre for a few moments while the next scene is assembled. "Why, it's Fezziwing!" He laughs rustily, pieces of something harsh breaking away. "Good old Fezzwing, alive again!"

Sugar_Rush sits, writing at his high desk. He is dressed in a waistcoat and vest, his mane done in the style of a Welsh wing. He looks at the clock, then claps his hooves together gleefully. He closes his accounting book, and calls out! "Yo-ho, Equinezer! Yo-Ho, Dick! It is seven o'clock!"

The young Scrooge walks from off stage this time, a little older, and dressed in some proper clothes. He and his partner, Whickers, give their pleasantries to Fezziwing as they come to him. "Mr. Fezziwing, sir?" said the young Scrooge. "Shall we get to it?"

Rarity Watches- things happening quickly. Apperently one of the stagehooves got reprimanded, or somepony took the bottle away. Even so, the scene moves at a good pace- the props cleared away for a dance to begin. Fiddles are pulled out, music begins, and Fezziwing's daughters appear, one by one, until Belle arrives, and Scrooge is clearly smitten. and rolls her eyes. "This is going faster than I thought...hmmm may still be some time to get to the spa...ANYWAY, Look at these silly ponies darling. Being silly and nothing you can do about it. Is it not a small thing, to make them so? Such gratitude and joy? And what did he do? Spend a few measly bits on a party. Humph...I could have done better, really...I mean, does he really deserve suchs praise darling?

Sugar_Rush smiles down to his two apprentices. "No more work tonight, my fine colts! It is Hearthwarming's Eve, Whickers! Hearthwarmming, Equinezer! Now, have those shutters up before a pony can say Jack Trottingson!", he calls out in a voice that is overflowing with joy and goodwill.

<OOC> Rarity says, "Whoops, slide that one right behind Sugars!"
<OOC> Sugar_Rush snickers, "Afraid I'll upstage you, Rarity?"
<OOC> Skyheart says, "Well Fezziwig is meant to the be the focus of this scene so... "
<OOC> Rarity says, "...U, Upstage. ME?! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...Haaaa."

"Whickers, to be sure," mutters Scrooge happily. "Bless me, there he is. He was very much attached to me, was he, Whickers. Poor Whickers. Whickers. Such a funny name, Whickers. Hm!" He repeats it to himself a few more times, facing away until the Ghost regains his attention. "The... the spa?" An eyebrow is almost raised, but the actor doesn't quite have control of it. "Why... it isn't that, Spirit! He has the power to render us happy or unhappy... to make our service light or burdensome, a pleasure or a toil! Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count them up: what then. The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune."

Rarity seems somewhat distracted, glancing off towards one of the wings. "Hmm? Err, what is it?" She quips quietly towards the other pony, before glancing back off into the wings...

[Bardigan]

Sugar_Rush goes and dances in the center of the party. While maybe not the most skilled of dancers, his enthusiasm is contagious, as his is spirit of giving and unrestrained generosity. He calls for the fiddler to play faster, and urges everyone to eat their fill!

Apparently, the young Scrooge is so taken by the mood, by the jovial and frenetic enterprise, that he also began to dance, twirling and shifting all about and enjoying himself immensely. Belle, of course, provides much distraction, and he follows her around the room with his eyes for some time before Whickers drags him out of it back onto the main floor. No time for that; there's a party to be had! And on and on it when, well into the night, until the clock struck eleven..

Scrooge is slightly put off by the Ghost's distraction, but can't remain upset with so much good music and cheer to witness, and so many fine times to recall.

o/` Once you party with ponies... you'll be seeing rainbooms! oOoOo--aaahh ooh ahh oohh! o/`

Sugar_Rush starts to fade into the background now, though he can still be seen a bit in shadows, waving to his guests, silently making or laughing at a joke, and otherwise enjoying himself and sharing that enjoyment with other...

Shadows begin to swallow the scene as the young Scrooge, in a fit of robust joviality, dedicates a toast to Fezziwing and his kindness, the words fading into the fog of memory (helpfully assisted by a real fog) as the scene dissipates.

Rarity sneaks a glance at her watch and groans. She's going to miss that special tonight for the mane treatment...of all the nights to... "Ugh. Come, Scrooge! My time grows short! Look, there! It's... um...a thing. " She quips, pointing sharply towards a new older Scrooge, and the lights flicker again...

Scrooge is drawn abruptly out of pining and glances over, startled. "Eh? Eh? Oh. Do you know, spirit? I... I think I should like to say a few words to my clerk, just now. That's--oh, gracious. Is that me? It is." he stops speaking, because it's clear the qualities in this Equineezer are not those are his past incarnations. This one is colder... more avaricious.

Scrooge was, indeed, much older now, a stallion in the prime of his life, but already the signs of what was to come were there: the lines of avarice and care, and the shifty, greedy glances he made about the room. He was not alone; there was a mare with him, moved to tears that brought out the somber hues of her mourning dress. "So...here we are," he said, dying pity struggling to escape.

Derpy finally comes out for her appointed turn upon the stage. She is clad no longer in the entire contents of the costume chest, nor a random representation thereof, but in a dress of blue chiffon, strewn with silver sparkles. In the blue-white light, one could say she is a vision of loveliness, her yellow hair combed straight rather than spiky, her shoes clad in soft silver. If one could get over the eyes--one up and one down. And if one could transcend the sense of past-ness about her--she is that which one might have been had. "Another idol have displace," she directly tells young Scrooge. "If cheer and comfort? Then not grieving time." She lowers her eyelashes. "But is grieving time."

( Half a dozen roses are thrown up onto the stage, all from different directions and despite no pony having thrown or even brought them. Derpy's costume is clearly popular with somepony! )
Dusk sits with Mirage, watching the show together. As Derpy comes out he comments aside to Mirage how nice Derpy looks in the outfit. So very fancy.

( Thankfully, Solar Solstice took some extra time to learn how to interpret Derpy's unusual syntax. Thus, the 'young' Scrooge looks upon what was once his love with inquiry. "What idol has displaced you?" )

Derpy looks up from her pensive state long enough to gain Scrooge's eyes. Or at least one of them. "Golden one," she replies. "But not apple."

The young Scrooge frowns. "So, that's it then? You don't like that I am taking myself out of poverty and into prosperity?" He furrows his brow and lays his head lower, feeling the weight of the world's cares upon his shoulders. He cannot look at Belle the same way anymore; there is so much that has changed between them. "I have tasted poverty, Belle, and I kow that no pony can stand to be part of it, no pony can /live/ in that state, and they never were meant to. What I do, I do to preserve my equinity, my dignity!" He did not plead, nor give room for objection. This was his position now, hardened by experience and fear, and he will not be moved.

Belle slowly stands, facing her once-beloved with simplicity. She closes one eye, and from it, highlighted by the spotlight, flows a silvery tear when opened. Room though there may not be for objection, she objects in her way nonetheless. "You fear too many world. All of your aspire, your passionfruits? Have dropped away. Only left is master-passion Gain. And Gain? Worst flavor. Have any hope remain aside from sorbate grasp of world?"

The young Scrooge frowns. "Gain is what I need to seek if I - if we - are to escape penury, to live proper lives! I seek only the improve my lot; I have not changed in attitude towards you." He pauses, seeing the look on her face, and from that moment he knows that something is slipping away, something important. "...Am I?"

Belle's very motions evoke slippage, after a fashion. She almost skates in tiny steps, most of them taking her further away in tiny increments. Her steps make no sound, of course. "You not are what you were," she says. "One time? Were colt. Our agree is old. But you are change-ed!" Passion enters the gray mare's voice, and she steps back toward Scrooge, bridging the distance. "Onetime promise of joys and figs and so many good? Now is fraught with lima bean." She frowns delicately, not quite touching her betrothed. "How often have thought?" Her eyes roll about in their sockets. "Cannot say. Only say this: I release you, Equineezer."

The young Scrooge is silent, impassive. If anything, his stern expression grows even harder and more resolute. "...I see," he says. "Then, you waste your time by being here."

Belle seems content to let this supposition win the day, though her face is sad. She sits on the snowy ground. "If all that worthified never had been between?" She peers at his face, searching for emotion. "Would you try to woo me now? Or would dowerless make powerless?" Her right ear gives a little flick.

The young Scrooge hesitates for a moment before giving his answer, resolute. "Money can come however which way, but I care about industry...and you do not."

Belle nods with slow, inevitable grace, placing one forehoof back, leg bent. "May you be happy in life that chosen." With that, a swirl of snowflakes covers the scene, and Belle departs, half seen.
Meanwhile, the grown Scrooge is despairing, his emotions impossible to hide. "Spirit," he sobs. "Show me no more. Nop more! Why do you delight to torture me?!"

That mare who's been asleep since Act I tries to whistle, still asleep, but after a single coherent second it turns into spitting, then gurgling.

Rarity Sighs and waggles a hoof towards the other pony. "BELIEVE me darling, I've places to be- BUT there is one more scene we must see. And don't give me this 'Take me home." The sooner we get done, the SOONER I can get to the sp...err...the...spirits...Hearthswarming...party. Yes, that'll do. Come now, lets go darling!" she snorts, pointing at the other side of the stage.

The young Scrooge is still, gazing at the door where Belle once was, as the shadows of memory consume him, and then, like a fog in a dream, are all gone, replaced by the new scene before them.

The stage seems to be swirling amorphously, the stagehands having suffered some sort of mishap.

Rarity stands there, waiting quietly, peering into the right wing, before she winces and cringes- and a large, loud booming CRASH echos from somewhere backstage. "...I...Uhh..."She glances at the audience, then towards scrooge and flashes a bright smile as the gentle hint of smoke starts to waft in. "...You know, darling, you're right? I think you've seen quite enough, a, and I should HATE to intrude upon The spirit of Present's time with you, and err, I...need...to...go now. "She stammers, taking a step back, and then another, and then another, before, flashing the Audience another smile, and rushes off the stage- probably towards the fire extingiusher...

Scrooge's face seems to change shape slightly as he steps back, reacting to the crash. "Ah." His eyes flash green for a split second. "I... very good. I have reflection to take and sleep can only aid me. You have tortured me this night, and for that... I will have my revenge!" Scrooge retreats to the part of the stage that never stopped being set with his bedroom, and seizes the candlesnuffer in his mouth. He springs forward and attempts to snuff the head of the Ghost of Hearth's Warming Past--thus mussing up her hair!!

<OOC> Sugar_Rush says, "No, Rarity, you may not change the story so Scrooge's body is never found..."
In a page-pose to you, Marble_Memory can try to muck through. Will once again need a link to a script to weork with.
<OOC> Rarity says, "Oh, darling, just you wait.."

The candle snuffer is more than effective: it's utterly devastating! Mostly because Rarity refuses to let herself get caught and her beautiful mane devastated! Scrooge is soon forced to reire to bed. Bardigan follows him halfway, in his top hat and scarf, shaking his head sadly. "The ghost of the Past faded, leaving poor Equineezer with his lonely thoughts. Presently aware that he was exhausted, he collapsed back into a deep and heavy sleep... till he was awakened by the bell stroke of One in the middle of a prodigious snore. Waking up prepared for anything, he wasn't prepared for *nothing*..."
Bardigan fades back into the shadows off-stage.

Scrooge indeed goes back to his bed and lies down, relieved and ready for empty slumber. He folds one sheet halfway over himself and sleeps--or tries. But the bell is loud and demanding, and he must wake. Match climbs out of bed and peers into the darkness. "Who..." But his voice catches. He seizes up a cane in one fetlock and stands, slowly moving toward the curtain that hides the rest of the stage...reaching for it tentatively...

There is flat, unmotivated laughter sounding from the other side of the stage, then sudden;y a loud clop noise, an "Ow!" Then a far far more motivated laughter... perhaps mixed with light sobbing. "SCROOOOOOOOOOOOGE!" Comes a voice.

Scrooge leaps, all right, at that. He shies back, cowering with his cane, at first. But then he reflect and, apparently, gains courage. Seizing the curtain in his teeth and pulling it back, he reveals...

There's the Ghost of Christmas Present sitting on an office chair surrounded by hundreds of bran muffins. He would not allow for any other food during negotiations! The stallion, played by the familiar Chancellor of Ponyville, awkwardly grips his drink (Decaf coffee.) and continues laughing. He looks happy, all the same. "Come here! I am the Spirit of Hearth Warming Eve Present! Have you never seen one like me?"

Scrooge is just confused now. He walks over slowly, leaving his cane behind, and sniffs about. "Uh...
never," he admits. He pokes at one of the bran muffins.

Marble lets out an audible whimper at the muffin poking, but composes himself and smiles again, laughing more. "You have never met any of my elder brethren these past few years?"
"N...no," stutters Scrooge. "Have you... had many brothers, spirit?" He picks up one of the muffins.
Marble reaches out to the bran muffin in question as if some treasure was taken from him... then he realizes he needs to stay in character and laughs nervously. "Eh... heh. heh... More than eighteen hundred!" Marble reaches for one of the other muffins and begins to unwrap it.

Scrooge seizes up the cane and thwaps the hoof at the muffin's wrapper, as if demanding attention. "Such a large family to provide for! And... all of them eat bran... muffins?" He marvels at the bounty.

The ghost yelps in surprise and stands up, just as the muffin *SPLUTS* right on the stage. Why can the ghost never have nice things? He looks at Scrooge incredulously. "Take my robe!" Marble says, finally unfurling his wings.

Scrooge is astonished be the request and its sudden urgency. "Take... what... but..." He walks over to the long robe and picks it up...

The ghost boldly strolls to the bedroom window and attempts to open it. It won't budge. He is pushing up as hard as he can. "Nnnnnnnnnnnngh!" After a minute, he pants... And tries again. "Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaar!"

Scrooge goes to assist the Ghost of Hearth's Warming Present, and soon the two of them are both pushing hard. "Spirit," grunts the miser, "this past night I went forth on -compulsion- with one of your kin, and learned a lesson which now is working. If you have... <uungh> ...aught to teach me, please..."

"I have much to teach you... if we could just get this darn..." Marble grunts and finally gives up. That window is CLEARLY glued shut or something. "We'll go out the front door!" The ghost declares with much wisdom.

Mirage feels very embarassed for having mistaken a lull for the intermission. Or perhaps it was a very, very short intermission.

Scrooge shrugs. He's not so changed in his way as to break his own window, after all. "As you say, spirit. Where will we be going tonight? I can see the perspective to be gained in revisiting what has been... but what can the present, in which I and all others live continually, possibly teach me?"

The ghost find his way down and out of Scrooge's home. "You shall see!" He offers his robe again to Scrooge.

Scrooge goes the long way out of his bedroom set and seizes the robe.

The ghost soon takes flight, with a great flash of his wings. In reality the ghost doesn't like to fly but they kept insisting they fly and not walk. He never should have signed that contract/.

Scrooge cries out, holding onto the ghost's robe and pretending to be dragged along. In reality, he's managing to fly on his own... somehow. But hiding his wings.

The window is abruptly swung open from the other side by a stagehoof, helpfully using his magic... but disregarding Marble's attempts to shove it open at the same time. And the scene swirls abruptly, revealing many things at once, here and there on the stage and in the world: a group of dirty ponies huddled around a fire in a rock field, swinging their pickaxes and singing strains of carols. It is a rock farm, one of those very places Scrooge told the useless to go, full of happiness and life. And again, to a lonely lighthouse, with two elderly ponies wishing each other a merry Hearth's Warming, finding happiness even in such a lonely place, their singing drowning out the gale outside. The ship outside the window, too, is full of ponies in its rocking hold, passing back and forth gifts acquired on shore leave. All of them know Hearth's Warming Cheer in spite of their solitude and removal from the world of ponies. And then all fhat is replaced by... a fireplace. A warm, dancing flame, that lights up a great many ponies in the midst of a party, the darkness that is quickly receding filled by their hearty laughter, one of whom Scrooge may just recognize on sight.

Fred is sitting on a couch in his 'home' laughing like one would expect from a jovial stallion at a Hearth's Warming party. "And then... And then he said..." He pauses to laugh a bit more. "That Hearth's Warming was a 'humbug'. I dare say he believed it, too."

All through the length trip, Scrooge watches the celebrating ponies with marvel on his features. He holds the robe tightly when something, like the carol sung in the lonely lighthouse, takes him by surprise. "And... and yet," he says. Then the scene becomes stable, and Scrooge lands. "Where have you taken me now, Ghost? Is this yet another--oh." He's recognized the place and the faces. He hasn't set foot -here- in... he doesn't remember how long. He falls silent as the party's guests carry on, his face becoming nervous, his hoof scuffing the floor.

Berry Punch is attired in something slinky, satin and wine-colored. She slinks over a tuffet and grins at her husband, Fred, a drink nearby. "Haah!! More shame for him. And more wine for us!"
Fred shakes his head and waves a hoof somewhat dismissively at his wife's comment. "He's really a comical old fellow, and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his offenses carry their own punishment, and I have nothing to say against him."

The ghost says, "Surely you know this place? Must I tell you exactly where you are?" The ghost inquires, peering inside the window and gasps in wonder as he sees a few bran muffins inside.
Scrooge nods sadly. "I can say nothing that would not be lost here, spirit." His face is pressed to the window.

"Nothing at all?" one of the guests, a plump little mare, exclaims. "Not even for missing a fine dinner like this?" "A fine dinner it is!" agrees another.

Berry seems to be enjoying the dinner quite a bit, tearing at a stalk of barley, or the like, as she slips around her tuffet. "Well, at least he's rich! SUPER-rich, or so you say, Fred."

Fred shakes his head again. "He has his wealth, yes, but it is of no use to him. He doesn't benefit others with it. He barely benefits himself with it." He gets a smirk on his face and looks around at his guests. "And I sincerely doubt he would ever consider benefiting us with it." There is laughter all around the room.

"Well, I've got no patience with him." She gestures drunkenly at the room, the ponies, the festivities. "Look what a dinner he's losing!" She snorts out a derisive laugh. "Loser."
Berry Punch does that!

Fred sighs and gives his wife a pat on the back. "Janet, please do be more cautious with your tongue. But... you make a good point. Who suffers by his ill whims? Himself. Always it is himself. Here, he takes it into his head to dislike us, and we won't even come and dine with us. What's the consequence? He loses some pleasant moments which could do him no harm. I give him this chance every year whether he likes it or not! I think I may have gotten to him at least a little bit this year, if I do say so myself." He laughs again.

"He has given us plenty of merriment and I'm sure it would not be grateful to not drink to his health." Fred picks up a glass and slings the other hoof around his wife. "To Uncle Scrooge!"

Berry Punch looks startled at being patted... and called Janet. "Um. Yeah. Ill whims. That sounds like 'Will Imms!' She laughs. Yeah, I don't know. You do your best, Fred!" She leaps up, spilling some spiced corn, and gives her husband a big, enthusiastic backsie with her hoof. Yeah, this was totally in rehearsal!

Skyheart blinks and freezes for a few moments, trying not to break character. "I... Um... To Uncle Scrooge!" He says again, raising the glass this time and thanking fortune he didn't spill it.

Berry looks amused, sliding to the floor. She glances at the other guests, who seem to be staring at her. "...Let's have a game!" she suggests. "What do you guys want to play. Marco Polo?"

"Yes and no!" Lyra speaks up from the crowd of guests. She meant it literally, but before she can effectively outline the pros and cons of Marco Polo, she is drowned out by the others clamoring for actual Yes and No. "YEEEEAH!" bellows Snowflake.

Heck if Berry Punch can tease out a nuance like that right now. She's sloshed going on jiggered. "YEAH!! Who's going first? Someone who's not me!!"

Skyheart chuckles. "Alright, alright. I suppose we can do that." He stands up and looks around. "Okay then, I'm sure we all know the rules? I'm thinking of something. You ask yes or no questions to narrow down the answer." He looks to his 'wife' "Janet, why don't you start with the questions? I've already thought of something."

Berry Punch stands up abruptly, going for languid to jazzed up in ten seconds flat. "OoH! OOH! Alla..." She cross her eyes, trying to remember. "Is it an animal or, like, a [BUY SOME CELERY] stalk? Or a rock?"

Skyheart chuckles. "ONE question at a time, dear." He looks to the other party guests. "Come on now. Does anypony have something?"

Lyra nibbles on her hooves, eager not to be upstaged after her earlier embarrassment. "Hey, hey! That's two guesses!" she exclaims. It's hard to tell if any one of Fred's guests are following the script at this point. "Does it have fingers?!" she blurts out.

Skyheart shakes his head. "Nope. No, it doesn't."

Berry Punch gets annoyed, swilling her wine. "No no no! It's the one special question you gotta answer. Only one! Like, mineral...vegetable...mineral...animal... or... um..."

"Is it something we are *familiar* with, I think they mean?" Junebug clarifies with a little smile at Lyra and Berry Punch.

Skyheart shakes his head. "It has to be something I can answer with 'yes' or 'no'. He glances to Junebug and nods. "Yes, it is. See? Like that."

Berry Punch works herself up and tries again. "Is it a mean thing?" She jumps on her hind legs and swerves about, scaring the party guests with a "Raaaawwr!"

Skyheart chuckles. "Haha. Yes, definitely."

Berry Punch looks out toward the audience as if they're at the party too. "Come on! Any of you guys have a guess?" she yells, egging them on.

"Is it a *manticore?!"* Lily gasps. "Is it a hydra?!" Rose exclaims next to her. "Is it something... horrible?!" Daisy says at the end of the line, at which point she faints behind the couch.

Skyheart looks at the three who guessed. "No, no, and... well no but..."

"But yes??!" exclaims 'Janet'.

( "YEAAAAH?" Snowflake urges Skyheart from very close behind. )

Skyheart cringes and looks back at the interuption with a chuckle. "Um.... I suppose."

"Can it *talk?*" guesses Lyra, looking honestly stumped with her chin resting on one hoof.

Virga shouts "A sparkle here, and a sparkle there. Oh dear, someone accidentally blew up one of the cargo ships in the bay, and some old Canterlot mare claps her hooves. "ooh..fireworks!"" (Public-shout)

"Is it a very irate *cow*?" Junebug tries again.

Skyheart shakes his head. "No. No it isn't.

Berry Punch hics, leaning against the tuffet. "I forgot. Hm. OH! It's your Uncle Scrooge!!" She downs the rest of her glass.

Skyheart begins laughing. "Yes! That's it!" He services another chuckle before looking to Berry. "Okay, Janet. That means it's your turn."

"SCROOOOGE!" Snowflake bellows, pumping his hoof. "Uncle Scrooge!" cheer the rest of the guests.

Old Scrooge, leaning against the window, laughs just as much as the guests when his name comes up, and -he- turns out to be the answer. He chokes out laughter against the window, and then raises a hoof and cheers. "And a good bit of merriment it was! A Merry Hearth's Warming to--" But the ghost is beckoning him onward.

--------------------
INTERMISSION
--------------------

[Bardigan]

ACT II


Enigma shuffles his hooves while behind the curtain. THe little bandit looks a bit nervous... How the hell did he get talked into this? He trots his way over to Bardigan and leans against the older pony.

"Everypony take your seats!" the ever anonymous announcer pony declares. Bardigan gives Enigma a little pat on the back. "Places, now," he tells him and the rest. "Let's send this play off properly."

Nettleglum has come backstage to change into her costume, and is going over the script with a glassy stare.

Enigma looks up at Bardigan and gives a flat expression, "WHoopie." THe Bandit King trots over to wardrobe where he gets in costume and then waits for his cue to go on stage. In his mind he goes over his lines.

Match_Maker takes a deep breath. "Oh god oh god oh god I can't do this I can't do this..." she says, freaking out somewhere where she hopes that nopony can see her.

Once Bardigan has found all the actors and pried them out of their rehearsal/hiding spots and gotten them properly arranged, the lights of the hall dim. The curtain begins to roll back, revealing to the audience the very last moments of Fred's party from the night before, with Present and good old Scrooge looking on.

Berry Punch hics, leaning against the tuffet. "I forgot. Hm. OH! It's your Uncle Scrooge!!" She downs the rest of her glass.

( Skyheart begins laughing. "Yes! That's it!" He services another chuckle before looking to Berry. "Okay, Janet. That means it's your turn." )

"SCROOOOGE!" Snowflake bellows, pumping his hoof. "Uncle Scrooge!" cheer the rest of the guests.

Old Scrooge, leaning against the window, laughs just as much as the guests when his name comes up, and -he- turns out to be the answer. He chokes out laughter against the window, and then raises a hoof and cheers. "And a good bit of merriment it was! A Merry Hearth's Warming to--" But the ghost is beckoning him onward...

Marble flies Scrooge across the city and toward the Cratchit home... his stomach growling. All this denial of bran muffins is making his stomach growl. He pats at his stomach, no longer watching where he is going as he flies straight toward the window of the Cratchit home.

From the looks of the Cratchit home, only one pony could possibly be the domestic influence here. The set is of a tiny, shabby, four-room hovel, yet somehow there are tilting hallways leading off to nowhere, and a web-draped chandelier swaying in the gloom, fitful candles casting long shadows. Up rises Mrs. Cratchit, tall and dark purple, gaunt, cadaverous and deadpan, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned shroud, but brave in cobwebs, for cobwebs make a goodly show for sixbits. "Whatever has gotten your precious father, dears? And your brother, Tiny Tim? I do hope they've not stopped to feed the timberwolves again. I should hate to have to replace another of Tim's hind legs." ._.

( "I'm here, mother! Martha's here!" A very spry young filly shouts, loud enough to make the cobwebs tremble as she skips towards the table from the door, pigtailed mane flapping. "We were in such a tizzy at the millener's today!" "Hurrah for Martha," what seems to be a miniature Nettleglum says as she tromps into the scene, face stoic and downcast, and what seems to be an actual spiderweb for a head dress. "Not that it makes much difference, but Father should be home any minute now. May want to hide yourself... if that's possible, given your disposition." The other children hurry in after the first. )

The Ghost of Hearths Warming Eve Present crahes right up against eh window... then slides right down to the ground, dazed a bit. Considering he's so feeble he didn't even come close to breaking that window.

Nettleglum lurches over to the window and stiffly unlatches it. ._. It's a balmy freezing night, anyhow.

Scrooge watches, dismayed... "Come now. Surely he can afford better." the crotchedy old unicorn says to himself, nose pressed up against the window... Only to get his head knocked back when Mrs. Cratchett opens it abruptly.

Just then, Cratchitt enters, bearing Tiny tim on her hack with his crush tucked beneath her wing. "Hello, everypony!" she exclaims warmly, much different from the shaky mess of nerves she was in Scrooge's presence.

The ghost clambers back to his hooves, stumbling toward the door, brushing himself off, then he gasps, taking out what remains of the bran muffin he was saving for later. Crumbs! He, distraught, sprinkles them on the doorstep of the Cratchits when he thinks nopony is looking.

Enigma gigglefits while laid out on Cratchitt's back! The little boy is dressed in a black flatcap pulled over one eye and a black leather vest. A black scarf is worn around his neck. His eyes look shallow and sunken in and he looks rather frail. His left fore leg is also covered in a bandage spotted red, black and green. Not a good sign. He winks open his brown eye to look to his mother, "We're back!"

Nettleglum shambles towards her 'husband' and 'son' and bestows upon them a stiffly clutching greeting that itches slightly. "And how did little Tim behave?" she asks in a monotone. "I do hope he's been lighting small fires and leering cheerily tonight."

Enigma gives that devilish little sawtooth smile of his, "Oh, Mum, I was on my very best behavior! I only stole three wallets this time!"

Nettleglum checks his switchblade and finds no crusty stains on it. Hmm. Perhaps she needs her husband to have a talk with Tim later.
Just before they arrived, Martha has skillfully hidden herself behind a particularly despondent looking chair.

"He was!" says Cratchitt. "As good as gold and better," seemingly oblivious to the disparity in the lines, or perhaps this is just what Hearthswarming is all about.

( 'Scrooge' has officially forgotten his lines... It's okay, because it's not his scene... What in the name of Luna's Zombie Apocalyptic Right Forehoof Chainsaw is going on? 'He' just stands and stares. )

"But where's Martha?" Bob adds, looking around in a rather more exaggerated fashion than is necessary.

"Welcome home, father," Belinda deadpans, shaking an errant strand of web out of her eye. Dapper young colt Peter trots up to the elder Cratchits. "'Ello, Pop!" he says with a huge smile. "Come an' hear the puddin' Mum put in the copper! Belinda says it's actually screamin'!"

<OOC> Match_Maker says, "Knowing Nettleglum, she tortured it to the right texture."

'Tiny Tim' slowly eases himself down off 'his father's' back. His exposed brown eye glows bright gold in the iris and his cane becomes wrapped in golden light. It floats to under his bad leg. He limps himself over to 'his mother' whom he nuzzles affectionately. He once again gives that demonic little grin filled with sharp teeth then limps his way to the table. He pauses a moment to hack and cough a bit and shivers from head to hoof.

Nettleglum pats the tot, and offers him a dose of Professor Hoofenhoffer's Vita-vegitative Nutrive Extract, made from 138% pure laudanum with real cherry flavours.

Martha simply can't stand to see her father in any sort of distress, even if it's only in jest. She springs up so quickly that a few of the family spiders are sent flying and scuttling, hurrying to latch onto Bob with a mighty hug. "I'm here, Father! Here I am!" she says, making Belinda fold her ears back and say something about sunny dispositions.

Bob gives a delighted squeal as Martha appears, twirling her around once before setting her down. The elder Cratchitt draws her children into a big, warm hug one by one, and then takes a cup of hot, steaming extract (it smells just like foxglove!). "It all smells so wonderful. A happy Hearthswarming to us all, my dears! Alicorns bless us."

The rude mare who fell asleep five minutes into the first act slurs loudly, "OKAY," and then falls face-first onto the floor out of her seat.

Mrs. Cratchit makes the gravy hissing hot, and watches as Belinda sweetens up the apple sauce, while Master Peter attacks the potatoes with Nettie's mace. Lumps adorn the walls with buttery goodness. Finally, it's time to sit down to Hearthwarming dinner!

Enigma coughs and wheezes as he sips the extract, "Yeah, Alicorns bless us for giving me polio and consumption of the lungs." :V He coughs into a hankerchief and wipes his muzzle before looking to his 'father,' "Did that plothole of a boss give you that raise, Papa? SO I can, you know, /live/?"

Nettleglum says "If you're very good this year, your father and I plan to get you pleurisy, dear."

Bob's good cheer falters. "Well - n-no. But, um, I'm sure everything will work out." She pats Li'l Tim on his forelock. "I'll work triple hours, or...or maybe moonlight, and your mother is such a good doctor..."

Nettleglum is busy sawing the roast beast in half.

The ghost watches Tiny Tim for several moments, then seems to shake his head very sadly. "I feel I must tell you. If nothing changes... if their life continues in this path... I see an empty chair... with only a crutch for its occupant." This is said with genuine sorrow, even tears on Marble's part.
In a page-pose to you and Match_Maker, Marble_Memory figures that gives a good start into the relevant conversation.

"Mother outdid 'erself, didn't she?" Peter proudly declares of the roast beast. "Only this family would enjoy a feast of beast," Belinda deadpans as Martha playfully ruffles her spiderweb with a luminously sunny smile.

Scrooge rubs his chin. That colt. He has some SERIOUS cajones to bad mouth Scrooge like that. "Nay kind spirit, say that he might be spared. Truly, I could use an apprentice to take over when I pass on." he says, grinning from ear to ear.

Mrs. Cratchit leaves the room to take up the pudding. Hallo! A great deal of steam and a creaking rumble. The pudding. Has escaped from the copper. A smell, rank and sharp, like washing day for a rabid echidna. That was the cloth. A smell like a charnel house and a pastry-cook's next door to each other, with a madhouse next to that. That was the pudding. In half a minute, Mrs. Cratchit lurches past-- rushed, but stiffly quick-- with the pudding in full pursuit, leaving a blazing trail of half or half-a-quartern of ignited brandy, which the stage-hooves rush to put out. It shrieks as it rushes by, leaving a singed hole in the set and a burning Hearthwarming holly imbedded in a wall. Oh, what a wonderful pudding!

"As I said before, if this continues, if these shadows remain unaltered by the future... none of my successors shall find him again." The ghost says stoically. Then he turns to face Scrooge. "What difference does it make? Let him die, I say! He's only part of the 'surplus population.'"

( Despite his sarcastic attitude and preocious nature, Lil' Tim slowly frowns at that news. He hangs his head and droops his ears back. He scowls a bit then his eyes get wet. "It's not fair.." He limps his way over to Fluttershy and leans into her, "...you work your bloody plot off for that old fool! Why, Papa, why do you put up with it? Why do you let him push you around and..." He sniffs and clings his good leg around his father, "...you can't...can you? It's just not in your nature. You see the good in everyone. Even in those whose heart is darker than the blackest night. You are able to see one tiniest glimmer of glow within the perputual darkness of that foul wretch's heart. .... Ah well..." He looks up with that one good eye uncovered by his flatcap, "I believe in you, Papa. I'm sure you'll pull through some how." )

"Merry Hearth's Warming to all, an' to all a good *noight!*" Peter declares as he puts paid to the escaping pudding with Nettie's nearby mace. He then calmly returns to the table, brushing off a singed bit of coat. The show must go on!

Nettleglum must have had a weak recipe. Usually takes more than a mace to bring it down. Well, it's is just theater. She begins hewing off smoldering gobbets for every plate.

Fluttershy stares at Tim for a good few seconds, somewhat taken aback by her tiny tot's loquacity. "Um," she says trying to pull her mind back to the next line. "Well put, Tiny Tim. A-and now, um..." She grabs her mug, trying not to take in too many of the fumes as a poor little moth spirals down from the ceiling. "Let's have a toast, then. To the founder of this feast, Ebeneezer Scrooge."

Nettleglum looks... er... well, not exactly angry. No, more utterly deadpan. But the script calls for anger, so, she tonelessly drones, "Founder of the feast, indeed. I wish we had him here. I'd give him a piece of of my mind and perhaps a large blunt chunk of rapidly moving cold iron to feast upon." ._.

Fluttershy glances around anxiously, as if she expects SCrooge to drop in through the ceiling at any second. "D-dear, please, the children. It's Hearthswarming..."

"That's my Mum," Belinda says with a smidge of pride. Martha frets in a prime example of overacting, twisting her shawl at how dreadfully angry Mother is. She's one or two pitches below her 'happy' monotone!

Scrooge shivers to hear his words thrown back at him. "No... Please... Say that at least this one might be spared. Surely he is to be spared!"

Enigma climbs up onto Nettleglum's back. His exposed eye glows gold once again to float a mug up. He smirks...but then smiles warmly and nods, "To Mr. Scoorge." He then drinks then snorts at his mother's comment. He looks to Fluttershy, "Eh, Mum's kinda gotta point, Papa... but, still, he /did/ provide the bits for the feast, but don't forget that you /earned/ the bits, Papa." He then begins to cough and hack and wheeze again...this time he burps up a splatter of blood into his hankerchief! He then curls up on his mother's back and shivers. >_<

"It should be Hearthwarming day, I am sure," replies Mrs. Scratch'n'sniff, "on which one drinks to the health of such an odious, unfeeling pony as Mister Scrooge. I'll drink to his health for your sake and the day's, not for his. Long life to him and a happy new year. I'm sure he'll be very merry and happy."
The ghost merely shakes his head to Scrooge. He then turns to watch through the window then.

Bob blushes a little and it seems for a moment that she might say something characteristically humble to Tiny Tim, but then the child begins to cough and Bob cringes, glancing aside at the audience. Might this be overdoing it a bit? "Oh dear. H-here, you should eat and keep your strength up. Oh, my dear, have a little charity, please...to Mr. Scrooge."

Scrooge sighs. "Is he truly to die... How many of your race have seen him and his kin?" he asks suddenly. "How many brothers and sisters have you, kind spirit?"

( The other children murmur out a Happy Hearth's Warming to Mr. Scrooge, seeming just as unhappy about it as Nettleglum. "Well..." Martha mumbles after a moment's silence. "How about a *song?*" she declares, springing back to life. )

"More than eighteen hundred. And he so few before, and soon none." The spirit says, then takes Scrooge by the hoof.

Enigma grimaces but smiles weakly and sips soup provided by his father. He slips from his mother's back and trots to between Peter and Martha. He *ahems* then begins to sing with his siblings. ^o^

Mrs. Cratchit and the little Cratchits and the papa Cratchit and the twitching, creaking remains of the plum pudding are left in dimmer lighting as the focus shifts to 'outside' where Scrooge and the Spirit talk...

Derpy resolutely pushes a button backstage, her timing perfect. It's the wrong button. A stream of bubbly bubbles bubbles up between the ghost and the miser, making a correspondingly loud sound effect.

Scrooge turns to the spirit, clutching at its robes in suplication. "nay! Say that he might take the reins from me when he is older!" he says.

<OOC> Fluttershy is in on that action, naturally.

The ghost is about to reply when sudden;y he just starts twitching. "NnnnnghhheheeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" He flails about crazily.

The unconscious, clam-smelling, possibly drunk mare on the floor hauls herself back up into her seat, tries to clap, succeeds twice, mumbles, "Brilliant scene change," and slumps over the back of her seat to snore.

A thin, leafy tendril creeps out from under the Ghost's ample robes. 'Whurf!'

"Are spirits lives so short?" asks Scrooge, seeing the Ghost of Christmas Present stagger and groan, growing ALMOST as gaunt, hideous, and generally cadaverous as Mrs. Cratchett.

The... whatever that is under Hearthwarming Present's robes mewls and then barks cheerfully. That's not /usually/ how hooves behave themselves. One of the leafy tendrils lifts up the hem of the robe and Chas, everypony's favorite horrifying mutant flytrap abomination, pokes his pod out and waggles his tongue.

Maybe the ghost is looking such because his actor is fighting off a heart attack right there. "Nnnnnngh." Something white and fluffy can be heard giving the hissy green thing a light smack to calm it down... thus calming the spirit down. "My t-time draws short..." The spirit says, clutching his chest.
Chas whimpers. Sad... plant-thing.

Match_Maker breaks character for a moment to scream. She just screams in pure unadulterated terror at the plant monster THING that's suddenly waving it's psuedopods at her. She's a good actor, but she's not THAT good. "OH GOD I'M GOING TO DIE!" she shrieks, turning and trying to flee, only to run into a piece of the set and give herself a shiner.

Marble takes a step back to reveal Chas and... Angel Bunny? He takes a deep breath, but calms down. Frankly he's terrified by BOTH Want and Ignorance. "Do you not *know* them? They are your children!" The ghost points at Children. "She is Want... and this one..." He points at Angel Bunny, who looks ready to find something sharp and come after Scrooge and the Ghost already. "Is Ignorance. His name may very well be DOOM, however."

Derpy rushes out from backstage, wearing a pair of director's sunglasses upside-down and dragging a megaphone on a cord around her neck. "Show go on!" she prods Match Maker. "Show go OOOONNN!!!" Her hair has been moussed and spiked since the Belle scene.

"Show go on. Show go on," chants the unconscious mare in a much slower, only semi-audible mumble with lots of drooling.

Somewhere backstage, Bardigan actually dies of embarrassment.

On stage, a few stagehooves dressed in black drag Match back to her position, while one whispers her lines to her before they all hustle away again.

( Chas definitely wants. He wants a cookie, and seems to think 'Scrooge' has one. The plant cheerfully 'whruffs!' at Match_Maker until Nettie's legs appear from under the nearest set piece and /slooowly/ begins to move Chas' planter off-stage. )

<OOC> Marble_Memory says, "Poor Bardi."

<OOC> Derpy will mourn for month.
<OOC> Luna orders Bardigan not to die.
<OOC> Bardigan scoffs. "Just the one?"
<OOC> Match_Maker says, "I HAD to react that way... Match Maker just kinda freaked out. How Would YOU react when suddenly confronted by big plantthing?"
<OOC> Derpy says, "Two month? -.o"
<OOC> Barnstormer says, "It just wants you to Feed Him, Semo--urhm, Match Maker."
<OOC> Nettleglum hugs her adorable Chas.
<OOC> Luna says, "If Bardigan dies, Luna won't forgive him."
<OOC> Luna says, "She'll recycle him."
<OOC> Marble_Memory says, "Recycle him into Soylent Pony and feed him to Apple Bloom?"
<OOC> Luna has Nettleglum and Dinky who would both throw themselves into lava for her.
<OOC> Derpy says, "Maybe give to Dinky as practice project."
<OOC> Luna says, "Recycle him into a new playwright. We have the necromancer. We can rebuild him!"
<OOC> Marble_Memory says, "Apple Bloom will be disappointed."
<OOC> Luna says, "She can help with the repair work."
<OOC> Bardigan 's writing hoof is given the strength of a bulldozer for some reason, and his eyes the ability to spot typos at five hundred yards.

'Scrooge' takes a deep breath as the stagehoofs whisper her lines. "Nay spirit! Neigh!" says the crotchety old Unicorn. "Please say that things may change!"

Also, Bardigan is abruptly brought back from the brink by a well timed Shock 'Em If You Got 'Em spell, and the comforting knowledge that the audience isn't rioting.

The ghost, noting that Chas has been excused off screen... daintily waves a hoof at Angel Bunny, terrified of the beast. "G... g-get away!" Angel Bunny sits and crosses his arms, glaring. Not going anywhere.

Derpy nods, satisfied, and trots off the stage, her megaphone banging into and reorienting a floodlight on her way out.

<OOC> Marble_Memory is killed by the floodlight. Somehow.
<OOC> Big_Mac says, "Too many UV rays, he bursts into flames."
<OOC> Luna does not have him repaired.
<OOC> Marble_Memory 's family is sure to avenge him.
<OOC> Big_Mac suggests Luna replacing him with a cheaply made cardboard standee.
<OOC> Fluttershy says, "SO he can ride in Applejack's truck!"
<OOC> Rarity Suggests the throw rug for the reusable "Take him out and beat him joke"
<OOC> Match_Maker stuffs Rarity into Apple Bloom's 'trunk'.
<OOC> Luna shakes her head to Big Mac. "No one would buy it. They'd have too much personality, and look too rugged and stallionly!"

'Scrooge' takes a deep breath as the stagehoofs whisper her lines. "Nay spirit! Neigh!" says the crotchety old Unicorn. "Please say that things may change!"

"Will *you* not change?" The ghost counters sharply back on Scrooge. HE advances, aging visibly due to dehydration from the floodlight. "Chaaaange is not to happen by itself." The ghost then waves to backstage. "Can I please have some water?"

Berry Punch slips out, leaning, and passes a phial of something that probably isn't water to the Ghost of Hearth's Warming Present.

Scrooge cowers exceedingly, shuddering quietly. "Please! Say That "I" may change! That I may avoid this path that I now tread!"

The spirit slowly drags him across the sky toward home. "I cannot decide for you what you deny yourself, Scrooge. Understand only that my kin can only know you or anyone for so long before we can know you no more!" The ghost nears Scrooge's home.

----------------------
INTERMISSION
----------------------

[Bardigan]

ACT III

Big_Mac fidgets nervously back stage! Most likely causing a slight thundering with those heavy hooves as his cue nears. Why did he ever let Barnstormer ever talk him into this! *hoofgnaws anxiously*

<OOC> Luna says, "...oh, ME. He's the Ghost of Hearthswarming Future, the one that doesn't talk."
<OOC> Luna puts her face in her hooves.
<OOC> Big_Mac says, "n.n"
<OOC> Luna says, "Why, me? Why?"
<OOC> Fluttershy says, "ANgel Bunyn was also considered."
<OOC> Bardigan asked if Big Mac could play Future one night, then saw a shooting star take out a tree next to his house. He took it that meant it was fine.
<OOC> Luna says, "NO I MEANT THE EXACT OPPOSITE WHY DOES NOPONY LISTEN TO ME"

Enigma trots over to Big Mac and nuzzles into the big stallion's side affectionately to provide confidence

Derpy finds four big pieces of felt and tactfully slips them underneath Big Mac's hooves.

Big_Mac blinks at the nuzzlings from Enigma, though it /does/ seem to help a little... right up until the felt is slipped under his hooves, providing no traction whatsoever and leaving Mac slipping along back stage, definitely causing a few clatters in the background. O.O

Derpy opens her eyes wide and scrambles away from the mayhem she's inadvertently cased!!

Scrooge shudders before the Ghost of Hearth's Warming Present. "Do they have no refuge? No soil in which to grow and flower?" he begs the spirit.

Marble shouts back, with venom, "ARE THERE NO PRISONS?! ARE THERE NO *ROCK FAAAAREEWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUGHHH!*" The ghost trips and falls right off stage tugging Scroog RIGHT onto his mark, a huge crash sound backstage, sliding a pile of newspaprers on stage, atop which sits a single glass of water with a tiny umbrella on top.

Bardigan signals Big Mac's entrance from his fetal position ball on the floor.

Derpy's mind is scrambled right now, but she has the vague impression that she failed to create quietude.

Marble lies face-first on the floor backstage. He decides to just stay there until his wife finds him.

As Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, having fallen deep into the orchestra pit, he beholds a solemn phantom, draped in hood and robes, sliding like a mist across the ground.... as he tries to halt himself from his continued momentum of sliding following the felt horse shoes now upon him. As he glides gravely toward Scrooge, no form of his shrouded tall, shrouded figure exposed, save but an outstretched hoof.

Nettleglum helpfully draws a chalk outline around her dear friend Chancellor Marmalade. To make it easier for his wife to find him.

Derpy reaches out a humble leg from between the curtains and drops two ice cubes in the glass of water. She adjusts the umbrella before withdrawing.

Scrooge trembles. "Are... Are You The Spirit of Hearth's Warming Eve Yet to Come?"

The Mac of Hearthswarming Future finally slides to a stop a short distance from Scrooge, his stately form difficult to separate from the darkness. Upon Scrooge's question, the spirit answered not for a long moment, but pointed onward with a hoof. "....Eeyup..."

<OOC> Enigma says, "Brilliant o.o"
<OOC> Sharien hoof claps.
<OOC> Big_Mac blushes! (turns bright red, HA!) and bows! n.n

A tiny black velvet saddle with a see-through lace strap is tossed out of the audience to land on the edge of the stage nearest Big Mac's hooves.

<OOC> Big_Mac says, "X-D"
<OOC> Skyheart buckles over laughing.
<OOC> Match_Maker says, "That..."
<OOC> Match_Maker says, "Big Mac?"
<OOC> Match_Maker says, "That was EPIC."
<OOC> Derpy chuckles.
<OOC> Match_Maker says, "That was 'Derpy Speaks For The First Time' levels of awesome."
<OOC> Big_Mac is glad his face is all obscured by HOOD right now! *Tugs it down further!*

Bardigan forces a nearby unicorn to telepathically urge Big Mac to ignore it and not break character.

'Scrooge' shudders. "Will you say naught to me, shade of the future? For I fear thee most of all. Pray, will you not speak to me?"

The hanging fabric of The ghost's hood shifts slightly, his head shaking ever so faintly for an instant, as if the spirit had shaken his head, his large hoof remain outstretched, pointing straight before them, that was the only answer Scrooge was to recieve.

The hanging fabric of The ghost's hood shifts slightly, his head shaking ever so faintly for an instant, as if the spirit had shaken his head, his large hoof remain outstretched, pointing straight before them, that was the only answer Scrooge was to recieve, before the upper portion of his hood contracts slightly, his head sinking at the sight of the saddle skittering to a stop by his hooves, making that big outstretched hoof waiver slightly.

Bardigan shakes Lyra's head at the saddle from offstage until she draws it away with her magic.

<OOC> Big_Mac D:'s (Got Disconnected!)
<OOC> Luna says, "You only missed Bardigan having Lyra pull the saddle offstage so Bardigan could add it to his private collection."
<OOC> Derpy wields the scythe now, swinging it at an imaginary foe and grinning wickedly. "Reap 'em and weed!" she taunts.
<OOC> Nettleglum says, "A mare with poor depth perception swinging a sharpened scythe. I approve, dear."
<OOC> You say, "I keep telling everypony, it's just a lost and found!"
<OOC> Big_Mac actually saw that!
<OOC> Marble_Memory shrieks as Derpy slices his wings clean off.
<OOC> Derpy says, "Whoops! My baad!"
<OOC> Luna is deeply impressed by how well Bardigan pretends he didn't notice the silver crescent moon embroidered on the underside of the saddle.
<OOC> Bardigan didn't get to where he is without an exceptional poker face.
<OOC> Big_Mac blinks, and curiosly stretches out that stretched out hoof, to poke Bardigan in the face. O.O

Scrooge notices the lace saddle too, but in his green eyes, wavering attention only contributes to his sense of discomfiture. "...Well. Lead on, then. If you will not speak. The night is waning fast, and..." He glances back at the saddle and then briefly out into the audience.

Marble's hoof worms its way on stagve, feeling around for a bran muffin.

<OOC> Luna says, "The play is in trouble! CALL UPON THE SEA PONIES, BARDIGAN!"
<OOC> Sugar_Rush says, "Hi..."
<OOC> Rarity Makes a face that can only be descibed as 'disgust'
<OOC> Bardigan shines the Sea Pony signal on the nearest body of water.
<OOC> Marble_Memory watches bubbling on the surface, then a single POST-IT rises to the surface: "Killed them all. -- AB"

The Mac of Hearthwarming Future moves back toward the way it had come, still seeming to glide across the stage in an eerie sort of way, namely looking like he were ice skating on those felt pads, now that hes got his hooves under him again. As they move, the backdrop changes, turning to that of a city, things like benches and other cutouts of familiar street objects popping up about them. Finally, there they were, in the heart of the city, surrounded by merchanants who hurried along the streets, coins jingling in their pockets, glancing at their watches as they pass, a sight scrooge had seen often. STopping beside a group of businessmen, the large hoof pointed to them. "No" said a large stallion, I do not know much, only that he's dead...." the conversation begins.

Scrooge watches with a mixture of helplessness and fatalism as the conversation continues...

"When did he die?" asks a smaller stallion, blue and scruffy.

"Last night, I believe," says a tall white blonde-maned stallion, polishing his monocle. "Only the Moon was left to mourn him, and I doubt even *she* would." "What's to be done with the money?" asks the first. "No idea. All with his company I suspect. I only know that *I* haven't seen a single bit," says the tall one, prompting a round of stuffy, dry laughter. "Ha ha ha ha! Single bit! Did you see what I did there?" "Well, it's likely to be a cheap funeral, either way," the scruffy blue stallion exclaims. "Should we form a party to volunteer?" "Only if lunch is provided," Big White sighs. "I *never* wear black horse shoes, they clash ever so terribly with my pelt." "I will go if anypony else will, if only to be fed for my trouble," the first says, without any real passion at all. "Well, off to business then!"

"Spirit, I knew those stallions," pleads Scrooge, almost tugging at the wraith's cloak. "What has happened? Please, tell me."

Quiet and dark beside Scrooge, stood the cloaked stallion, his hoof still outstretched. STill the phantom says nothing as they left the busy scene and into an obscure part of town where scrooge had never been before, although he recognized its bad repute. The ways were narrow and pungent, the shops dark and the ponies ugly and unshod. All in all, quite the place of crime, filth and misery. The phantom leads Scrooge to a shop, dark and having seen better days. Sitting within among the wares he dealt, was a grey-haired stallion, to which they both came within the presene of this stallion, just as a woman with a heavy bundle slunk into the shop.

It's Berry Punch. She's now got black-gray coils of something that must be half asbestos in her mane and rdust all over her pelt, but a little purple shows through here and there. She cackles at the sight of the others and throws down the bundle. "A-ha-ha! Let the charpony alone to be the first. Let the laundress alone to be the second; and let the undertaker's lackey alone to be the third. Look here, Pony Joe, here's a chance. If we haven't all three met here without meaning it!" She then belches.

The old Pony laughs and eyes the gathered. "You couldn't have met in a better place. Come in and sit! Don't be shy, we're all suitable to our calling. We're well matched to be sure!" He starts laughing more, "Come in!"

The second mare following Berry Punch looks to be an incredibly ragged and dirty version of Bon Bon, her once curly mane now all in tangles, one side of her face up in a sneer. "Well, let's not stand staring," she says, her incredibly adaptable voice grating on the ears as she hauls a bag of swag forward. "I should hope we do not pick holes in each other's coats!"

"What odds then! What odds, Mrs. Filler!" hacks out Berry Punch in a semi-incomprehensible accent. And no, it's not 'drunk'. But it may be related somehow. "But no need, indeed. Who's the worse for the loss of a few things like these? Not a dead chap, I suppose? Why, if he wanted to keep them after he was dead, the wicked old screw, why wasn't he--" *hic* "--natural in his lifetime? If he had been, he'd have had somepony to look after him when he was struck with Death, instead of lying gasping out his last--" *hic* "--there, alone, all by himself. Alone."

"A truer word was never spoken!" Bon Bon grumbles. "It's a judgment on him, if I do say so myself!"

Pony Joe eyes the haul brought before the table. "I'll handle this one, then. Let's ee.... A seal, a pencil case... a pair of sleeve buttons... hmmm..." He looks up, "I'll give ye a pound eight, and not a bit more if I was to be boiled for not doing it. Next!"

Bon Bon watches a few errant (and used and therefore worthless) bottles of cider roll out of her sack. She turns to glare at Berry Punch. "I didn't put those in my bag!" she insists, taking her due payment with a sniff.

The various individuals milling about with scavenged goods take their turns haggling with Old Joe, until Berry Punch as the experienced charpony sidles up to have hers appraised. "And now take a look in my bundle, Joe." She flings out a roll of bedcurtains and blankets."
only not the final ".

Old Joe smirks and admires what's in front of him. "Ah.... quite the stash Ms. Punch. Of course, I always give too much to the ladies. It's a weakness of mind, that's the way I ruin myself." He laughs as he looks through it. "And what do you call this? Bedcurtains! You mean to say you took 'em down rings and all with him laying there?"

"Well why not? Not gonna catch 'is *death* without 'em now, is he?" Bon Bon cackles.

Punch laughs in a disturbing fashion, bouncing oddly. "Well, and why not? I certainly shan't hold my teeth, when I can get anything in 'em by reaching them out, for the sake of such a fellow as he was, I promise you, Joe. Don't drop that oil upon the blankets, now."

Old Pony Joe chuckles, but looks to her with a bit of a worried look. "'ee didn't die of anythin' catching, did he?"

"Catching?" The charpony rocks back on her rump and squashes her tail under. "Don't you be afraid of that. I ain't so fond of his company that I'd loiter about him for such things, if he did. Now, as for that shirt, it's the best he--" She blinks, wide-eyed, and pulls out a shirt from her bundle. "This 'ere shirt's the best he had. You can look until your eyeballs drop to the ground, but you'll find no hole. And they'd've wasted it, too, if it hadn't been for me."

Old Joe admires the shirt, looking it over, then looks back to Berry. "And what'd you call wasting it, deary?"

Berry Punch laughs a little too long. "Why, putting it on 'im to be buried, that's what! Somepony was fool enough to do it, but I took it off again. If leather an't good enough for such a purpose, it isn't good enough for anything. Anyhow, he can't look uglier than he did in that one."

"So this is how it ends for the old dodger?" Bon Bon cackles again. "He went and scared everypony off while he was alive, so we could profit when he was dead!"

Joe laughs. "Fine fine... Three pounds for the curtains and sheets. Four for the shirt. No more."
As the scene fades into improvised cackling and haggling, Scrooge, who still listens in shock, looks to the Ghost. '

"I see, I see. The case of this benighted stallion may be my own--so tends my life now!" But then the stagehands come out again to change the scene. "Merciful heavens, what is this?"

As Scrooge recoils and exclaims to the Spirit, the scene changes, and now, Scrooge stand almost touching abare, uncutianed bed, on which, beneath a ragged sheet lay something covered, lit by only a pale light rising in the outer air that fell straight upon the bed, upon it, was the plundered, unwatched and uncared for body of a stallion.

--------------------
INTERMISSION
--------------------

[Bardigan]

ACT IV

<OOC> Luna is here. Fun may now happen.
<OOC> You say, "The Princess has arrived. Everything that happens is now important."
<OOC> Big_Mac wavewaves and H'los t' Luna!
<OOC> Sugar_Rush bows to the Princess of the Night.
<OOC> Marble_Memory drops a straw on the floor. Important.
<OOC> Luna says, "The First Straw of the Night!"
<OOC> Luna says, "Bardigan, write a play about it."
<OOC> Luna says, "Dreamy Eyed Mare... just stand around and be awesome."
<OOC> You say, "Once, there was a lonely straw. It was so lonely that it fell on the floor and died. The end."
<OOC> Luna believes Nettleglum tells that story to her grandson every night.
<OOC> Marble_Memory is depressed by that story.
Nettleglum has connected.
<OOC> You say, "Well maybe you should have been the better stallion and drank with the straw, and showed it that its life had purpose."
<OOC> Nitro_Nine sticks a straw in Marble... SLURRP!
<OOC> Luna says, "Its life did have purpose. It was sacrificed when the Princess of the Night arrived!"
<OOC> Marble_Memory feels very guilty.

Bardigan tromps around backstage. "Places! Places everypony!"

Match Maker gets into position, the nervous changeling growing shakier and shakier as the play continues.

...which means she fits right in next to Fluttershy, who is shaking once again in spite of having been at this play for some time now. Every fresh scene is a fresh need to panic!

They might be shaking because the mare who fell asleep in Act I has started to snore. It is a grinding, thunderous noise like the entire Town Hall being hacksawed, but fortunately it only lasts a couple of seconds before she complains to herself, "Cease, I cannot hear the actors," and goes back to sleep more quietly.

"I see, I see. The case of this benighted stallion may be my own--so tends my life now!" But then the stagehands come out again to change the scene. "Merciful heavens, what is this?"

As Scrooge recoils and exclaims to the Spirit, the scene changes, and now, Scrooge stand almost touching abare, uncutianed bed, on which, beneath a ragged sheet lay something covered, lit by only a pale light rising in the outer air that fell straight upon the bed, upon it, was the plundered, unwatched and uncared for body of a stallion.

Scrooge whimpers. "Spirit. Pray. Whose cold body is this that lies upon the bed? Is his unhappy fate my own? Please Spirit! My life tends this way even now, but I will change! I must change! Please spirit! Say that I may avoid the fate of this unhappy colt."

The Mac of Christmas Future's hoof remains outstretched, pointing toward the covered head of the stallion, which not but a movement of Scrooge's hoof upon the sheet would reveal the features beneath the carelessly drawn cover. Without moving a hair's breadth further, the ghost responds "...Eeyup..."

Scrooge shudders and staggers towards the sheets. "Nay... NEIGH spirit! I have not the strength to lift the covers." 'he shudders.

Still the Mac of Hearthwarming Future pointed with an unmoving hoof to the head, as the hooves, still felt-laden from the start of his apearance begin to /slowly/ drift outward... holding a pose is difficult with little traction!

Scrooge whimpers a bit, scootching forwards and TRYING to not giggle at the undignified sight of Big Macintosh's hooves sliding out from beneath his body.

Derpy rushes out on stage with a... device of some sort! it's... a hoof jack? She slips it quickly until Mac's hoof to keep it from slipping, and darts off stage!

Again the Mac of Hearthswarming Future seemed to look upon Scrooge, his one hoof still extended, pointing toward the stallions covered head, his remaining three hooves just barely holding on until the jack is slipped underneath him, keeping him from slipping further. With a sigh he returns his attention to the outstretched hoof, although feeling quite percarious!

Scrooge turns away. "Spirit, remove me from this place. I can no longer bear to see this longely, forgotten soul."

The Mac of Hearthswarming Future does not respond, his ghastly dark visage remains still and cold, hoof outstretched still toward the head of the covered stallion upon the bed.
In a page-pose to you, Derpy and Match_Maker, Big_Mac gives a bit of a reason for SCrooge to continue pleading.

"PLEASE Spirit! Show me some emotion, some tenderness or sadness brought about... ANYthing that shows that this pony is thought of even now!"

The Mac of Hearthswarming Future Turns, finally getting his hooves back under him, upon Scrooge's plea. He spreads his dark robe before him like a wing for but just a moment. Withdrawing it, it revealed familiar streets, which the Spirit ushers Scrooge through. They enter poor Bob Cratchit's house, the dwelling he had visitied before, to find the mother and children seated around the fire.

Enigma lays on Nettle's table with his tongue sticking out and X's in his eyes. x.x

<OOC> Enigma meant to OOC that! LMAO!
<OOC> Big_Mac says, "Somepony has t' be the death o' the party."

Bardigan flips through the script backstage. "It's not supposed to be *that* obvious!"

Peter sits nearby, a strange little book clutched in his hooves. "And take several rocks of orichalcum, and set the drakenroot in the midst of them. Then speak the magic words..." He drops his shoulders, sighing. "Mother, I... I'm not sure this is going to work. Certainly not before Father comes home."

Scrooge blinks and looks at the spirit beside him. "Pray spirit. Say that it is not so! Please, say that the boy might be spared!"

Poor Mrs. Crachit is overcome with emotion, so much so that she very nearly moves when Peter addresses her. She briefly sets down the needle she'd been using to sew together two bits of what had been last night's dinner and are now painted up in remarkably similar shade to Tiny Tim and turns to face Peter, clomp-clomping gracefully all the way. "Now, now, dear. Whether it's finished or not, I'm sure your father will appreciate - ah. This color hurts my eyes." She reaches into her sewing kit and pulls out a hoof-ful of powdery dye, throwing it on the candle and causing it to flare up in a bright, sickly green. "That's better. I wouldn't show weak eyes to your father, dear, not for the world. It must be near his time."

Peter sets the book away while Martha and Belinda set down their burning incense. "Past it, rather," Peter sighs. "He... walks a little slower than he used to, these last few evenings."

Scrooge turns his head as if in shame. In truth, Matchy is rather astonished. Having the body out? Disrespectful! She clicks her tongue and Scrooge shakes his head. "Spirit, tell me, is this what MUST be or what MAY be?"

Cratchitglum nods, complete with the sound of a creaking door. "Yes, I've known him to walk very
quickly with Tiny Tim upon his shoulders, very fast indeed."

The Mac of Hearthswarming Future stands still, next to Scrooge as he watches the grim scene unfold, still unanswering of Scrooge's urging. Feeling quite grateful for the less polished floor of the Cratchet house, Mac no longer has to worry about his hooves remaining beneath him. His head unmoving, and looking straight forward at the scene finally responds to Scrooge's urging. "...Eenope..."

"As have I," Peter says. Belinda gently nudges one of Tiny Tim's legs back into place. "He was very light to carry," she whispers, her voice sounding... affected, for the first time since she appeared.

"Well," says Mrs. Cratchit, "we can only hope he still i- ah, is that your father now, dears?"

She turns again (clomp clomp) as Bob Cratchit enters, her shoulders stooped lower than last we saw her, but her eyes still up and a smile on her face for her family, even if they hold a bit less depth and mirth than before. She sits, taking the smallest child onto her back. "I-I went by there today. That's why I'm late. I-I'm sorry," she says. "Oh, but you should see it! It's so bright and green...but I guess you'll see it often. ...sorry."

Peter dutifully puts a shroud back over the conspicuous and very dead Tiny Tim, wheeling him backstage as the other children come forward to hug their father one by one. "It's all right, Papa," Martha soothes at Bob's dismal tone.

Bob is briefly overcome by hugs from all her children. "But," she continues, "y-you'll never guess who I saw today! It was, um, Fred Hollowell - you know, Scrooge's nephew?" She pauses a moment to breathe and think. Is that right? Yes, that's right. "He saw that I was..." Here Bob pauses again, doing her very best not to look at Torpid Tim. "Um...h-he saw that I was...down." She's looking completely the other way now. "And he was just so nice. So I, um, I told him everything that happened, and...y-you know, he said he'd be, um, happy to help. Oh, and I have good news for you, Peter!"

Peter pokes his head out from the back, where he was replacing all of Mother's magical oddities, but leaving the nefarious looking sigils where they've been drawn. Perhaps they'll try the ritual again next week. "What is it father?" he asks excitedly as he returns.

"H-he, um..." Bob's head sloooowly ratches back around, one degree at a time, while she forces herself to look back toward the table. She still manages to beat her wings excitedly, at least. "He said he got you an apprenticeship! You can start whenever you're ready, at eight bits a week."

"Oh, eight bits! And soon you'll keep company with a lovely filly I'm sure, and setting up a nice little stable for yourself," Martha teases while Peter adjusts his threadbare little bowtie and blushes proudly.
"All in good time, I should think," he mutters.

Bob smiles. "Yes, soon enough. But...however and whenever we're all parted from one another, I'm sure none of us will ever, um...forget Tiny Tim, right?"

Scrooge gags and looks away... "Please spirit, show me some JOY connected with that colt's death? Please spirit, take me away from this place. Show me no more."

"Never," the children and Cratchitglum reply, crowding around for another hug. After all, it will be *quite* hard to forget poor Tim when he's lying preserved in the next room over.

Derpy shouts "Speedful is Needful in some heart. But at times? Motions are only standstill of normal weather. To race is runnings on toboggan--is fun times, but only ordinary course. Good for sitting back.

"Certainly not," agrees Mrs. Cratchit, stuffing a hoof-ful of spices and preservatives under the sheet. "And I know as well, my dears, than whenever Tim should make himself remembered, we will all recall how patient and mild he was, and we shall not quarrel among ourselves, nor forget Tiny Tim in doing it."

Then here are hugs all around as Bob and Nettie embrace and Bob shakes Peter's hoof.

Scrooge takes a deep breath. "Then pray... tell me, or show me. In life, who WAS that colt lying in the bed? Was it Jacob? Neigh... You are the ghost of christmas yet to come."

The Mac of Hearthswarming Future convey's Scrooge as before, these visions seemed to bear little order save that they were in the Future - Into the resorts of business men, but showed no sign of scrooge himself. The spirit did not stay for for anything, hurried straight on, out of the Cratchit home and into the streets, toward the end as Scrooge desired. Through the streets familiar to Scrooge, as it is where he worked, and even pass within sight of the familiar street where scrooge passed many of his days.

Scrooge smiles, eagerly searching for some sign of his future self. Not seeing himself in anyh of his USUAL haunts encourages him. He HAS been contemplating a change of lifestyle.

The Mac of Hearthswarming Future Continues on through the streets, leading Scrooge onward to an iron gate, at which he pauses before entering. A churchyard, here, then the stallion, who's name had now to learn lay underneath the ground. A worthy place, walled by houses and overrun by weeds. The Spirit stood among the graves and once again pointed a hoof down to One.

Scrooge quakes. "No spirit no... Will you not speak to me, even now? No words but yes and no?" he asks, falling to his knees, all four of them.

Still the Spirit pointed downward to the grave near where it stood, as immovable as ever. "...Eenope..."
The once crotchedy, angry stallion creeps towards the stone. "Spirit, am "I" that lonely, forsaken stallion that lay upon the bed?" he blubbers.

The spirts hoof shifts, pointing from the grave, to Scrooge and back again, the name the headstone bore was his own, the name of 'Ebenezer Scrooge.' "...Eeeyup..."

Scrooge whimpers. "Spirit!" he cries suddenly, tight clutching at its robe, "Hear me! I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope?"

The hoof was still there, pointing motionless toward the headstone as Scrooge cluthces to the spirit's robes. For the first (second time, if you count the saddle <.< >.>) time, the hoof appeared to shake.

"Good Spirit," Ebeneighzer whines, as he grovels before it: "Your good nature intercedes for me, and you pity me. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life?"

The kind hoof trembled, the spirit still standing before the pleading Ebenezer.

"I swear, Big Spirit, I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. 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. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!" he wails, clutching strongly at Big Spirit Future.

In Scrooge's last prayer to have his fate reversed, an alteration in the Phantom's hood was seen. It shrunk, collapsed and dwindled down into a bedpost. His own bedpost, in fact. The bed was his own, as was the room. Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own, to make amends in!

Derpy presses a button to make the lights come up and pretty birdsong flood the stage!! Instead, a string of bubbles issue forth with a loud bubbling sound.

Bardigan looks at a nearby stagehoof. "I don't even remember *asking* for that machine."

Sugar_Rush, backstage, enjoys the bubbles!

Scrooge Whoops and hollers as he bolts up out of 'bed'. "I'm not dead!" he says, going to the window and sticking his head out of it. "YOU THERE! WHAT DAY IS IT?!" he calls to a passing boy.

"Daahh... what?" Snails asks, looking up with a confused expression. How did a pony get way up there? "Oh, gee, isn't it a Tuesday?" he wonders. "No, snail for brains!" Snips barks, hitting Snails in the shoulder. "It's Hearth's Warming Day, of course! Didntcha know that?" he shouts back up at Scrooge.

"It's Hearth's Warming Day? It's hearth's warming day! The spirits have done it all in one night! OF course they can, they can do whatever they like!" he says 'to himself.' "Boy. Boy! Do you know the grocers on the corner? Have they sold the fruit pie yet? Not the little one, the BIG one?!"

"You mean the one as big as Snips' head?" Snails wonders, tilting his whole head to one side as if to properly gauge the size of the pie. Snips just rolls his eyes. "Naaah, they haven't sold it. They say the cook had it enchanted to stay fresh and hot *all day long!*" he shouts back, drooling quite liberally at the thought.

<OOC> Big_Mac scoffs at that, He's enchanted to stay hot and fresh for DECADES! *sexy poses*
<OOC> Coder says, "Oooo! Like Vladimir Lenin!"
<OOC> You say, "I... wow. XD"
<OOC> Luna throws one of Celestia's saddles at Big Mac now!
<OOC> Big_Mac says, "EEYUP n.n"

"Run and fetch it for me! And the rest of the pies too! Come back with the grocer, and I'll give you a bit! Come back in less than five minutes, and I shall give you FIVE bits!" he says, before leaping to get dressed, randomly throwing different pieces of costumes on him.

"Five bits?! That's almost half of ten!" Snails exclaims. "You got that right! Let's go get it!" Snips says, leading the charge down the street.

Scrooge throws on his last 'costume' giggling wildly as he dances out of the front door.

The town is out, the sun is shining, the snow is thick, and Hearth's Warming mood is heavy in the air. Ponies mill back and forth, greeting each other with a smile and a well wish or even a present. The fruit pie is indeed still there, still warm and steaming, and Snips and Snails are already waiting to collect their bounty. And it's about then that a familiar mare and gentlecolt enter the building, talking to themselves. It's the very same ones that Scrooge chased out of his office the other day when they asked for donations!

They in no way resemble Bonbon and Lyra in mustaches.

Scrooge alks over to the 'charity workers' that in no way resemble Lyra and Octy. "How do you do? I hope you succeeded yesterday. It was very kind of you. A merry Christmas to you, sir! I fear my name may not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the goodness to accept..." at thiks point 'scrooge; whispers a big number

It's such a big number that Lyra's moustache falls right off from shock! "Is this the same Scrooge we met before?! Is he serious? We... we don't know what to say to such generosity!"

"Don't say a word. I won't give you a single penny less!" says Scrooge, dancing on through the street.

Bardigan watches the scene from the sidelines, with a large smile. "Scrooge had never once honored the Sun and Moon before then, but that day he took *nothing* for granted, blessing every pony he passed. He had never dreamed that any walk, on any day, ever, could give him such pleasure. When aftrenoon came, he found himself turning his steps towards his nephew's house..." And he steps aside for Scrooge to begin the greatest task of all: making amends...

Derpy peeks in from side-stage, wearing a top hat and grinning. Where did she get the top hat?

Sugar_Rush looks around. Odd, he had a top hat here a second ago. Oh, well, he really isn't a top hat
sort of pony anyway...

Scrooge, after a rather full day, decides to pop in on his nephew. He creeps through the halls so quietly and creepily that the Grimdark's might have been his family at some point.

But he can't avoid the gaze of Berry Punch. Er, Janet. This mare doesn't get hangovers! Or rather, she thrives on them. Her eyes are like eagles with eagles inside of them. "Is that... is that *Mr. Scrooge?* she asks incredulously in a quiet voice, so as to give little away.
Fred looks back in surprise. "U... Uncle Scrooge?"

Scrooge looks up at his nephew fred, his horn glowing in an apologetic way. "Yes. I've come to dinner. May I come in?"

Fred looks to Janet for a moment. "O-Of course! Come in, Uncle! Here, let me introduce my wife, Janet." He pulls Berry close to him, smiling.

Janet grins and grabs Scrooge's foreleg, shaking and shaking and shaking until it seems likely to come off. "Good to have you! Wow! You know, Fred here said you'd never ever ever come. Not in a thousand thousand years." She smirks at him. "Shows what he knows, I guess! Come in, and enjoy!
There's Fred's sister, and Topper's over there in the bow tie, and there's meringue-moscopone-marzipan cake, and games to play!" She leads him into a lively atmosphere of wonderful conviviality.

Scrooge bows his head. "Thank you Fred. You and your family... So kind. Is there any way I can repay you for being so horrible all these years?"

Fred smiles. "Being here is more than enough, Uncle Scrooge. Mother always hoped you would. She loved you very much and wished until her dying day that we should always be close."

Berry Punch grins and pours punch for everyone at the party, which lasts a good five minutes for the audience and no doubt a time all too short to hope for and too long to measure for Scrooge. And then... things change about, one last time, and we're back at Scrooge's counting house.

It's the day after Hearth's Warming Day, and Scrooge giggles as he trots into the office. OH if only he could be there first, and catch Cratchet coming in late!

And so he does, as a full five minutes passes past opening before the door opens once more and Crachit's head pokes in, top hat tilted unsteadily to one side of her head. She creeeeps inside and toward her desk, hoping against hope that Scrooge hasn't come in late...

Scrooge LOOMS up behind Cratchett like some great specter of doom. "WHat is the meaning of this coming in at this time of the day?!" he asks.

Derpy punches the whirling snowflake button with gusto. No saying whether that's the button she was trying for or not.

"Aaack! Oh no! I'm too late! RUN, TINY TIM!" Flatchit scrambles on her hooves to find traction, turns, and smashes face-first right into the wall, crumpling up like an accordion. "...I-I'm sorry, sir."

Scrooge points to his office. "Come in here. We need to talk." he says.

Enigma blinkblinks as he lays sprawled out on his father's back. He snuggles over Flachit and glares daggers at Scoorge, "Rrrrrrrr*coughcoughocugh*rrrrrr." =.=

Cratchit reaches up and steadies the hat back onto her head properly as her nose uncrumples. She slinks over to Scrooge's desk, head down and ears drooping. "I-I am really sorry, Sir, it's only once a year. It won't be repeated, I promise..." Her hat is in her hooves again now, shielding her face, just like at the beginning...

"I should say not. This sort of thing can't go on any longer... Which is why!" says Scrooge, looming up... "WHICH IS WHY I SHALL BE GIVING YOU A RAISE! And helping your struggling family however I can. Happy Hearth's Warming Bob. A happier winter holiday than I've given you in MANY a long year." says the boss. "Now go get another scuttle of coal. Before you dot another 'I' or cross another 'T'!"

Wait, thinks Derpy. ~Dot~ i's and ~cross~ t's? She's been doing it backwards!! No wonder so many troubles!!

"Oh - oh, *yes* sir! Right *away*, sir! And thank you so, so much, and bless you, sir!" And Crachit's little wings start to buzz, liting her off the floor for the first time.

And after that, carolers are heard, and they begin to gather upon the stage, singing the time honored Circle of Friends. Bardigan takes the stage one last time, narrating the scenes of happiness among Scrooge and the rest of the cast. "Scrooge was better than his word. He did everything he promised and much, much more. And to Tiny Tim, who did *not* die, he became a second father. Who often found himself short on pocket change due to Tiny Tim's particular skillset," he adds with a smirk. "He was as good a friend, a master, and a stallion as many in Equestria knew. And he kept the fires of Friendship alive for the rest of his days, if any pony alive knew of Friendship. May it be said of all of us. So, as Tiny Tim observed..." He steps back, gesturing to Enigma.

Enigma snuggles into Scoorge's arms and turns to the audience. THe youth winks from under his blackflatcap that covers up one eye and waves a crutch, "Celestia bless us! Everypony!"

Berry Punch steps forward as the band strikes up "Circle of Friends. The lights grow in girth and in front of the stage, Alula holds up placards with the words for everypony to sing along...

o/` The fire of friendship lives in our hearts! As long as it burns, we cannot drift apart! o/`

The mare who's been asleep since the first act rears up out of her seat onto her hind legs, clapping her front hooves and shouting, "HUZZhuh?" She blinks, looking around, awake at last. "Is the show over?" she whispers to somepony random, and starts inching down the aisle and out.

Mirage sings along with the cast. Nice of them to have lyric cards for the audience!

Derpy sings, head lifted and eyes closed: "Though quails arise, their numbers are twooo! Laughter and sinking will see us Throoough!! o/~"

( Lyra holds out a little sign under Enigma with a hastily scrawled "And Luna too" on it. )

Sugar_Rush join in with the singing as well, smiling.

((o/~ And Luuuna tooo! o/~))

'Scrooge' McChangeling bellows out the lyrics in a gruff bassoprofundo voice, swaying with her buddies.

Dusk joins in too, alongside with Mirage, his hoof around her shoulders.

o/`We are a circle of pooony friends! A circle of friends we'll be to the Very ENNNND!! o/~

The curtains swing shut.

END

Sincere thanks to all who took part and all who supported this production with their presence and well wishes. Harmony's peace be with you all this holiday season, and every day after.