A nice Christmas Story for Bedtime Bears

[The Mongoose 1,007]

I was e-mailed this I think its taken off Bill McMurdo's Blog....enjoy, I did!

t’s Christmas Eve. A mean-spirited, miserly man named Peter sits in his office, looking down over a shabby cluster of tin stands and empty green plastic seats. Yes it was cheap he thought, but the idiots, who frequent the place, are so poisoned by bigotry and hatred, they never seem to mind.

He was already in a bad mood.

Since the vocal minority who were ǝpɐbıɹq uǝǝɹb ǝɥʇ had taken the huff, to be replaced by the less vociferous, but more acceptable Green Seat Brigade, profits were down.

With a heavy sigh, he resumed his task of massaging attendance figures, a task becoming more difficult with each passing week.

Meanwhile, his clerk Neil and his assistants Stewart and Vincent shivered in the adjoining office because Peter refused to spend money on heating.

Peter’s close friends, Graham, Phil and Alex dropped by to pay him a visit and invited him to their unions’ annual Christmas party.

“Please come Peter, it would be a shame if you couldn’t make it after all we’ve done together over the last couple of years”, Graham said. “We can celebrate discrediting Leggat and getting Traynor to leave the Record”.

“Oh, I don’t know”, said Peter. “I’m not much of a one for turkeys”.

“Don’t worry about that Peter”, replied Graham, “we’re having succulent lamb”.

“Is it free?” Peter asked.

“Of course”, replied Alex. “Phil here has arranged for any expenses to be covered by a film company who don’t actually make films. Clever, don’t you think?” He smiled.

“What about the money we stole from Rangers”, Peter asked. “Surely that can’t have been spent already?”

“What do you think we’ve been using to prop up the SPL?” Neil shouted from the adjoining office. Peter fixated Neil with a withering glare. Neil apologised and shut the door.

“Ermm, what about the party?” Alex asked.

“I’ll think about it”, said Peter. And with that, his friends left.

They had barely left the room, when two dubious looking gentlemen, Mr. Thompson and Mr. Romanov dropped by, to plead with Peter for a contribution to their clubs, (who were facing severe financial hardship). Peter reacted to these Christmas Eve visitors with bitterness and venom, spitting out an angry “Bah! Humbug!” and sent them packing.

Later that evening, after returning to his lavish apartment, (paid for largely from the extravagant salary, which he drew from his club) Peter received a chilling visitation from the ghost of his dead friend and former lawyer, Paul.

Paul, looking haggard and pallid, related his unfortunate story.

As punishment for his greedy and self-serving life, his love for rough anal sex, and copious amounts of chemicals, his spirit has been condemned to wander the Earth weighted down with heavy chains. Hoping to save Peter from sharing the same fate, Paul explained to Peter that he should expect to be visited by three spirits.

As quickly as he had appeared, the wraith disappeared again.

“Fecking poof”, Peter muttered, before collapsing into a deep sleep.

He awoke, just moments before the arrival of the Ghost of Christmas Past.

Before him stood a strange, childlike phantom, with a tear-stained face. The spirit escorted Peter on a journey into the past of Peter’s football club. Invisible to those he watched; Peter revisited his childhood school days, to a time when his clubs football apprentices were being preyed upon for sexual gratification, by a bheastly trophy seller named Torbett. The ghost pointed to a large man with dark hair, who was wearing a suit.

“He knew”, said the wraith, “Big Jock knew”.

The wraith then took Peter on a journey through his personal past, through a time where Peters own son was removed from his employment for singing sickening, sectarian bile at a Christmas party. Peter sighed with relief, and remembered the cover up which kept the story from appearing in the mainstream press.

“I have much to thank the Scottish media for”, he smirked.

As he turned, he saw the wraiths disapproving look, and with a great deal of effort, he summoned up crocodile tears of regret, convincing the phantom to return him to his bed.

Peter had barely settled when another phantom, the Ghost of Christmas present, appeared before him. The ghost of Christmas present was a majestic giant, clad in a beautiful robe, bedecked in blue, white and red. He took Peter across Scotland to unveil Christmas as it would happen that year.

Peter watched the narrow minded, self-serving, and bitter chairmen of his fellow SPL clubs and their families, as they struggled to prepare Christmas feasts in their meager homes. Crippled with debt, faced with falling attendances, and bereft of meaningful competition, the SPL was on its knees.

As the ghost carried him back over Glasgow on its way back to Peter’s lavish apartment, Peter spotted a stadium full of light below them. A red brick façade stood majestically to the front of the stadium. From the windows of the beautiful red brick front of the building, shone a blue light the same colour as the blue on the phantoms robe, and from the three main windows shone the numbers 140 in white, piercing the night sky. Inside the building, he could hear the sound of happiness ringing out loudly.

“Why couldn’t you h** bastards, just fecking die”! He screamed.

The ghost of Christmas present glared at Peter, as Peter realised he had let his mask slip once again.

On they went, until they came to a brightly lit house, where a family was enjoying a Christmas full of joy and happiness. Inside, a small boy held his father tightly. Wee Billy, cared not for the colourful parcels beneath the tree. Having his brave dad back from fighting the Taliban in Afghanistan for Christmas was all he had wished for from Father Christmas. The courage of both father and son, and the love emanating from within the family home touched Peter in a way he hadn’t experienced since being consumed by his own jealousy, hatred and bitterness.

Peter pleaded with the spirit to stay until the very end of the festivities.

As the day passed, the spirit aged considerably. Toward the end of the day, he turned to Peter and showed him seven words, sewn into the magnificent blue, white and red robe which he wore. Those words were; sporting integrity, hatred, intolerance, bigotry Ignorance and greed.

“What does this mean?” Asked Peter, but the ghost vanished instantly and Peter noticed a dark, hooded figure coming towards him. Terror gripped Peter as he realised that this was the Ghost of Christmas yet to come.

“Come with me”, barked the ghost.

The Ghost of Christmas yet to come led Peter through a sequence of mysterious scenes relating to a recent death. Peter saw desperate businessmen, fighting for financial scraps from the carcass. Stripped of any shred of dignity, creditors grasped greedily for anything they could use, to keep their impatient bankers from calling in their debts, yet amid the chaotic scenes, Peter observed a couple of people who seemed to be expressing relief at the death.

Peter, anxious to learn the lessons of this latest visit, begged to know the name of the corpse.

After much pleading with the ghost, Peter found himself in a churchyard. The spirit pointed to a grave marked with a humble stone. Peter looked closely at the headstone and took a step back in shock, as he read out the letters S.P.L.

“Please, please”, he begged the ghost, “I can change, I will change, just let me have another chance. I promise I will renounce my insensitive, bigoted avaricious ways”.

“Too fecking late”, smiled the ghost, and with a loud whoosh, Peter found himself in a dark cavern, filled with the fires of Hell. As Satan rose from the flames, a loud voice boomed out.

“Ah Mr. Lawwell, I’ve been expecting you”.

The Ref

[WadeWilson 4,670]

Almost as creative and imaginative as the US citing the Taliban as a threat to world peace.

[VERITAS VOS LIBREBETS 3,428]

I did enjoy that!

[IanFerguson2012 123]

Not a bad read but I think the ghost of christmas future could have been better. Killing off the SPL could be predicted so some more imagination needed there. B+

[bluemc 308]

Enjoyed reading that :SPLbroken:

[The Mongoose 1,007]

Its bedtime so I read it again!!

[sillybilly 151]

I fair enjoyed that. Would have liked chuck Green to make an appearance