LONDON, ENGLAND – Due to a high demand for helpful ghosts on Christmas Eve, elderly businessman and heartless miser Agamemnon Scoggs was forced to endure a cautionary visit from three Frankensteins late last night.
“I was tucking into bed after a day of penny-pinching and cruelty,” explained Scoggs, “when my dead partner appeared to tell me I’d be visited by three ghosts that night. Well, I guess there ended up being no ghosts available because I waited for a pretty long time, then these three Frankensteins showed up.”
“They came in the room one at a time but you could always hear the other two in the hall, clomping around and knocking my stuff over. It all seemed very last-minute.”
The cold-hearted crank’s journey through time began when the Frankenstein of Christmas Past whisked him away to a festive, joyous party from his youth, only to become enraged by the venue’s fireplace.
“The fire really wigged that Frankenstien out, he was yelling and flailing around,” recounted Scoggs.
“He trashed that place from my past pretty badly and then we had to leave. If there was a lesson to that part of the night beyond ‘FIRE BAD’, we did not get to it.”
He was then taken to the modest home of his employee Bill Crockett by the Frankenstein of Christmas Present. “Oh, and I’d like to add that we weren’t flying from place to place either,” Scoggs noted. “I was being carried around by Frankensteins.”
The pair watched through the window as Crockett’s family made the most of Christmas with what little they had. “They might have gone on longer if we’d been invisible – like, say, ghosts. But since Frankensteins don’t have that ability, or even basic human stealth levels, we crashed through the window and in the ensuing freakout he threw Bill’s kid, Small Sam, in the river.”
The Frankenstein of Christmas Yet to Come concluded the night by taking Scoggs to a cemetery to look upon his own lonely grave. On arrival, however, the Frankenstein ran into two of his friends – a wolfman and a Dracula – and was so distracted by the ensuing monster party that Scoggs was unable to get any straight answers as to the grave’s meaning and had to take a cab home by himself.
“I understand what the Frankensteins were trying to do, and I guess I respect the effort,” said Scoggs, working on Christmas Day and clearly having failed to learn a lesson. “But I don’t know… there’s just that something that you only get with ghosts.”
Scoggs’ last remaining hope for holiday-centric redemption, the St Valentine’s Day Mummy, could not be reached for comment.
