An Objectivist Carol
Yes! and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own, to make amends in!
"I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!" Scrooge repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. "The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. Oh Jacob Marley! Heaven, and the Christmas Time be praised for this. I say it on my knees, old Jacob, on my knees!"
He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions, that his broken voice would scarcely answer to his call. He had been sobbing violently in his conflict with the Spirit, and his face was wet with tears.
"They are not torn down!" cried Scrooge, folding one of his bed-curtains in his arms, "they are not torn down, rings and all. They are here -- I am here -- the shadows of the things that would have been, may be dispelled. They will be! I know they will."
Scrooge’s joyous effusions were interrupted by an unusual sound. Unpleasantly skin crawling, it sounded like teeth grinding against teeth. Suppressing a shudder, Scrooge’s eyes flew around the room until they located the source of the sound.
Scrooge gasped. Standing in the middle of his bedroom was a man wielding a sword. While grinding his teeth together, the man’s unibrowed forehead sloped downward in a frown of disapproval. His outfit was black. And leather.
Before Scrooge could demand an explanation for the intrusion the man grabbed the front of Scooge’s nightshirt and lifted him from the ground.
“I am Richard Rahl, the Spirit of Objectivism Now. You are my prisoner.”
“Another spirit?!” gasped Scrooge. “But Marley said there would only be three!”
“Jacob Marley is an altruistic scumbag. I killed him. Just as I killed the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future.” And indeed, Scrooge could see that Richard’s sword was still stained with blood.
“B-but how? They’re ghosts! I don’t see how you could have killed them!”
Richard’s face turned beet red and he screamed through his clenched teeth. In a fury, Richard dropped the sword and proceeded to bitchslap Scrooge.
“A contradiction can exist neither in whole nor in part!” Richard bellowed through his clenched teeth, while his raptor eyes threw daggers through Scrooge’s.
Scrooge had a feeling that this was all the answer he was going to get out of Richard.
“Um, why exactly are you here?’
Screaming in rage (through his clenched teeth) Richard scooped his sword from the floor and hacked off Scrooge’s left hand.
“Speak only when spoken to!” Richard hissed through his teeth.
For a long time, Scrooge could only howl in agony as he tried to staunch the flow of blood from his bleeding stump. The sight of so much blood and human suffering seemed to ease Richard’s anger. He let go of Scrooge’s nightshirt and let the old man topple to the floor. A look of almost sexual ecstasy enslaved Richard’s face as he watched Scrooge writhe on the floor.
Richard’s teeth were still clenched.
“I’m here to undo the damage those collectivist swine wrought last night,” spat Richard in deadly earnest through his narrowed eyes. “Come!” Richard hauled Scrooge across his back like a sack of potatoes and jumped through the window.
Unlike the other ghosts, the Spirit of Objectivism Now did phase through the glass, but rather shattered it and he and Scrooge fell to the street below.
Grinding his teeth and dusting off snow, Richard loped down the street, pushing unwary pedestrians out of his way. Soon enough, Richard and Scrooge arrived at the Cratchit residence.
Instead of knocking, Richard hacked the door to pieces with his ever present sword and strode into the humbling dwelling with a masculine swagger.
Dumping the old man onto the floor, Richard proceeded to make himself at home. Scrooge could only watch in horror as Richard kneed Bob Crachit in the groin and took his place at the breakfast table and started to inhale the meager repast Mrs. Crachit had prepared for her family. The inhaling process was somewhat complicated by the fact that Richard was still firmly clenching his teeth. Most of the food ended up smeared across his face.
Sated, Richard belched and undid the drawstring on his masculine, leather traveling pants in order to let his gut more freely hang out after gorging himself.
“Down to business!” Richard clapped his hand together. Before Scrooge or the Crachit family knew what was happening, Richard launched into an exhaustive 12 hour speech on the evils of altruism, charity, goodwill, and compassion. Scrooge could slowly began to feel his old self again and by the time the speech ended, Scrooge had fully recanted his recent conversion.
“Only one way to make sure you’re really genuine about this,” Richard declared as he advanced on Tiny Tim. “Do exactly as I do, and you can consider yourself a True Objectivist! Boot, be true this day!” before anyone could react, Richard drew back his leg and unleashed a mighty and manly kick that shatter Tiny Tim’s jaw and severed his tongue.
Scrooge crowed and picked out a Cratchit child of his own to kill. Soon Richard and Scrooge had kicked ever underage jaw in the Cratchit hosehold.
Panting between his now clenched teeth, Scrooged vowed to never again to let the Christmas spirit corrupt his individuality.
And Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all and infinitely more. Scrooge compounded Bob Cratchit’s grief by foreclosing on his mortgage, thus driving his own loyal clerk to commit suicide. A widow, and now childless, Mrs. Cratchit was driven to prostitution in order to earn a living. He became as good an Objectivist, as good a Capitalist, as good an Individualist as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world had ever been blighted with. Some people laughed to see that nothing had changed in him, but he let them laugh, and then drove them into poverty and hired goons to harass their family. For many years to come, Scrooge would grind the faces of the poor.
He had further intercourse with the Spirit of Objectivism Now, who would constantly show up at his home to order him around and demand further obedience in the name of individualism and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Objectivism well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Richard Rahl observed, Ayn Rand Bless Us, Every One!
- Zap Rowsdower