A Christmas Coda

By Will Todd

While Mr. Charles Dickens endeavoured, I, a poor relation across tide and time, am left but to endeavor. His Ghostly little book did not put any readers out of humour, though mine might find some who wish to lay it. May the Spirit that animates it, and the season, yet pleasantly haunt its tidings of Redemption. A faithful Caroller, William Todd.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Will Todd
• Release date: Sep 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370834365

Will Todd

ALL ABOUT TODD1960: Born.1961-1982: Grew up. Did non-writing stuff.1983-1985: Worked with NASA as Aerospace Engineer. Started writing scripts part-time for no money.1986-1987: Started writing scripts full-time for no money.1988-1990: Wrote for first two seasons of "THE WONDER YEARS". Nominated for Emmy, Humanitas, and Writers Guild Awards. Won Humanitas and Writers Guild. Lost Emmy to pilot of "Murphy Brown" but I'm not bitter anymore especially since show never lived up to its potential.Wrote the first two "TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES" movies. Became rich, but with occasional pangs of guilt.1991-1992: Tried to elevate the quality of films coming out of Holywood by rejecting all script assignments and writing only on spec. I.E., Obscurity and Unemployment.1993-1995: Ran away to Europe for a few months, returned, wrote first play. Ran away to Asia for a few months, returned, directed first short film.1996: Stopped running long enough to get in line to write a feature film version of "I Dream of Jeannie". BLINK! Next.1997-1999: Completed Quest for Seven Continents with travels to Africa, Australia, South America, and Antarctica (whiter even than The Blank Page).2000-2002: Solidified reputation as International Man of Leisure. Blew it by writing a book in here somewhere.2003-2005: Nap.2006-2007: Wrote, produced, and directed a 90-minute compilation of comedy shorts called "42 STORY HOUSE". Sold very nearly that many DVD'S.2008-2009: Pangs of guilt concerning sudden wealth now a distant memory, sought status as "Too Big To Fail". Failed.2010: Attempted to finance an indie movie called "WHY THE SQUIRREL WON'T FRY". Fried.2011:Published first eBook "THE TELLING OF MY MARCHING BAND STORY". Fell.2012: Published some eScreenplays to see if anybody was interested in reading eScreenplays. Seriously, anybody. Hel-loooooooooo...?2013-2014: Started YouTube Channel "Todd Trumpet Videos". Reached "Blockbuster" (LLC) status.2015-2016: Wrote "A CHRISTMAS CODA". Received lavish praise from Dickens Experts. Who - "Bah! Humbug!" - apparently don't impress the General Public.2017: Adapted "A CHRISTMAS CODA" into a stage play. Learned Broadway and Hollywood, despite being on opposite sides of the country, actually share the same Welcome Mat.2018-2019: Achieved Complete World Domination. (Pending)

Book preview

A Christmas Coda

by

William Todd

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Copyright 2016 William Todd

Smashwords Edition

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Preface.

While Mr. Charles Dickens endeavoured, I, a poor relation across tide and time, am left but to endeavor. His Ghostly little book did not put any readers out of humour, though mine might find some who wish to lay it. May the Spirit that animates it, and the season, yet pleasantly haunt its tidings of Redemption.

A faithful Caroller,

W.T.

December, 2015.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

I. Introduction: Solo

II. Verse: Foundations

III. Refrain: Balderol!

IV. Reprise: A Toll of Regret

V. Burden: The Spirit of Christmas Future

VI. Bridge: The Spirit of Christmas Present

VII. Crescendo: The Spirit of Christmas Past

VIII. Diminuendo: A Note of Discord

IX. Chorus: The Fezziwig Ball!

X. Dal Segno: Requiem

XI. Coda: Variations

XII. Fine: Unison

I. Introduction: Solo

Scrooge was alive, to begin with. Doubtless! you may sniff, knowing too well the outcome of Mr. Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, and seeing Scrooge now emerge from his own front door under power of his own two feet, the bellows of his breath in the tart chill air proof beyond all magisterial doubt to the integrity of his organs.

But it is more to his Spirit that I refer, and the promise he has kept these 364 days, to live in the Past, the Present, and the Future, the Spirits of all Three striving within him; and to honour in his heart and keep all the year that day which he held most dear.

A merry Christmas, Jacob, said Scrooge, softly, facing the rather ordinary knocker of his front door, as he did a few moments each morning before embracing the wide world whole. Jacob Marley had been his business partner in life, and in death... well, in death, Jacob Marley had been a friend beyond requital.

Would that I could, Jacob, make it for you as you have for me, Scrooge continued, softer still, adjusting a wreath of holly encircling the polished iron, and thereby balance the ledger. Scrooge lingered before the knocker, eyes averted, not for fear his partner's spectral visage might appear there as it did one year ago, but because Scrooge knew, both in faculty and fealty, that it never would again.

Exactly one year ago. To the day.

Christmas Eve.

The thought was enough to raise Scrooge, and in his eyes, the hope there illumed shone beyond mere radiance of the season:

But I haven't given up yet!

Scrooge turned and filled his lungs with the day, arms stretching wide, the better to drink the clear, bright, stirring cold, a familiar, piping cold, to set the blood to dance; and dance he nearly did, stepping off from the knob with a twirl of his cane, and with such alacrity that he jangled Mrs. Dilber, just turning up the yard.

Oi, 'ere now, Mr. Scrooge, said Mrs. Dilber, her fluttering hand finding its familiar place atop her chest, you gave me a start.

This seemed to fill Scrooge with a giddy pleasure, recalling, A start, madam? Our annual tradition, I would offer.

The modest woman lowered her hand, reasserting the dignity of her recent promotion to housekeeper. It's just as I 'adn't expected you t'be out n'bout quite this early, sir.

Oh, I didn't wish to lose a minute of this morning's walk, Mrs. Dilber, said Scrooge, eyes still twinkling. Not a second.

Well, then, I'll not delay you, said Mrs. Dilber, taking a step toward the front door, only to find herself blocked by the sprightly side-skip of her employer.

Aren't we forgetting a rather vital part of our annual tradition, Mrs. Dilber?

The memory sent the woman's hand back atop her chest, faithfully recording the palpitations there, and she leaned closer to lower her voice, Me threatening t'scream for the beadle, sir, to see you so altered?

Scrooge often took great delight in surprise, and here, the pleasure was redoubled, for two involuntary whoops escaped before he could control his pipes well enough to toot, "No, no, Mrs. Dilber, dear Mrs. Dilber, though that is indeed a... bracing recollection I'd never let trade; I was instead referring to that which occurred after you threatened to have your employer hauled off by his ears to Bedlam. Attend."

Scrooge reached into his purse and, quite gently, lowered the hand affixed to Mrs. Dilber's chest, pressing a pair of coins into it. Tradition was indeed fast kept, for Mrs. Dilber's eyes sought to exceed the circumference of the Royal Mint's own currency.

"Two guineas?" puzzled the housekeeper.

You'll be home tomorrow, Mrs. Dilber, said Scrooge, more gently still, and I wished for you to have it in time to keep the holiday as fully as you see fit. Scrooge straightened, raising his voice to the three-penny seats, So you enjoy yourself, madam, or I'll have a stern word with your employer!

But Mrs. Dilber was not quite ready to play her part, continuing more softly, "You've really-- It's-- much too liberal, I'm sure, Mr. Scrooge."

Ah. Well, said Scrooge, the very portrait of sympathy, would it make you feel better to give it back, then, Mrs. Dilber?

Wot...? Properly roused, the housekeeper suddenly remembered how to keep her own house, burying the coins down near the very foundations! Why I would never offer up insult to my employer in that manner, sir, not for butter 'pon bacon, as I should like to amend.

I am instructed by your probity, Mrs. Dilber, said Scrooge, gathering his comforter about his neck, and bid you depart early today to exercise it, as I shall not return until well into the evening.

Are you quite sure, Mr. Scrooge? asked Mrs. Dilber, now at the door. With the house so loverly redone an' all, 'tisn't any 'ardship to--

I insist, madam. I know only too well how it wears to spend long hours alone in chambers so lovely yet... Scrooge looked back at his suite of rooms and, for a fleeting moment, unnoticed by any but you, lost the glint of his eye. ...empty.

But the gleam, like a star momentarily obscured by cloud, was quickly returned, bearing with it A merry Christmas, Mrs. Dilber! as Scrooge battened down his silk topper with two distinct taps and rounded toward the lane.

And a merrier one still to you, Mr. Scrooge! adjured Mrs. Dilber, letting herself inside while jingling the coins in her pocket and adding an answering pair of exclamations upon the knocker!

As for Scrooge, he filled his lungs anew and, braced by the promise of the day, stepped off as a major of the corps of drums, earning the mark as he pivoted through arch and into lane and immediately drew every eye on view. And what a view it was! Even at this hour of the morning - a very special morning indeed, a morning for business to animate the spirits! - tradesmen and patrons busied and bantered, bartered and bought, but not so determined that an abundance of cheer might find its natural release, much of it directed at the man now marching through the very heart of this seasonal pageant, entitled, as if by mutual decree, A Parade of Commons!

My dear Scrooge, said one strolling gentlemen, stopping him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, how are you? When will you come to see me?

Most well, thank'ee, said Scrooge. And afore the new year is new, depend upon it!

Before he could take a quarter step, yet another voice called out to him from a corner, Ha'penny, sir? But the beggar's eyes grew wide as he saw Scrooge flank and make approach with stern gait and countenance to match. Beggin' your pardon, sir. I didn't see t'was you.

Indeed. Asking a ha'penny of me? On Christmas Eve? I've a mind to be insulted, sir. And Scrooge further expressed his displeasure by dropping several tinkling coins into the man's hat.

Bless you, Mr. Scrooge, returned the soul.

Bless this glorious day! burst Mr. Scrooge, already on his way again. Yes! And bless us all! Every One!

And Every One seemed to want to share a blessed moment of this blessed glory of a day with Scrooge, who ran a glad gauntlet as principal greeter to the likes of the poulterer, mustering row upon row of uniformed geese, attended by lower-ranked grouse, pheasant, and partridge, all commanded by that overfed and soon to be overstuffed field marshal, the turkey, ready for service in pot or oven; the confectioner, leaving windows artfully ajar to set the sugar-wafted bait of biscuits, meringues, and trifles to sweetly ribbon the very air; and in greatest cornucopian splendour, the fruiterer, laying apples, pears, and even juicier oranges into pyramids that would not meet with scholarly disapproval from any three visitors from the East! Even the costermongers, burdened by strap and tray and thin margins, were not long to surrender to a better goodwill under force of Scrooge's felicitations.

The youngest, in fact, soon formed a wake behind him, as if he plied a pipe.

Beggin' y'pardon, guv'nuh, waylaid one patch-worked urchin with an overdressed sense of mischief, leading a retinue of smaller fellows, but 'ave you the o'clock?

Scrooge stopped to survey the group, and with firm stance replied, You never tire of it, do you? Smiles of affirmation nearly forced the same from Scrooge, but he