JACOB MARLEY

By Vincent Graham

Not quite ‘Dante’s Inferno’, this is the odious account of Jacob Marley’s death. A man in total denial of his demise, that is, until the sound of the soil hits the top of his casket. Vince Graham twists this macabre account into the joyous tale of Ebenezer Scrooge and his return to the world of the living. This book takes us from the distant past where we fi nd two spirits willing, to the near future to discover how the ghost of Marley conjures an apparition who will steer Scrooge off the path of damnation and into a love that is patiently waiting. This is a story that ends with a message, but only for those who fi nd the way and have learned to let go of their ego.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462872169

Vincent Graham

Vince Graham was somewhat of a child prodigy in that at the age of seventeen he joined the USAF. After basic training in Texas he spent the next nine months in training for the Strategic Air Command. In Illinois he was trained on inertial and celestial navigation systems and fl ight control systems for the B52 and KC 135 aircraft. Graduating second in his class he was then assigned permanently to Loring AFB Maine. After four years of service Sargent Graham hired on with UNIVAC he then moved on to Mohawk Data, Momentum Technologies, Decision Data and the SOMA corporations. In 1993 he wrote the story “Jacob Marley”. In 2003 Vince restored and reprinted an 1861 Civil War newspaper. He used the profi ts to help support his local Philadelphia PBS TV station. In 2004, Vince started working on his second book while working for the US Census Bureau. Vince is married and has a daughter who teaches Science in High School. As an avid historian, Vince now realizes that the book that remains unwritten is a waste of precious time and wisdom.

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Copyright © 1994, 2011 by Vince Graham.

ISBN:          Softcover                                 978-1-4628-7215-2

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4628-7216-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

Post One The Undertacking

Post Two Moses Uncut

Post Three Jesus Straight Up

Post Four The Friendly Chat

Post Five A New Dawn

Post Six Epilogue

Post One

The Undertacking

Scrooge walked a bit slower than usual, composing his thoughts, reviewing the banter that was sure to occur between the Chemist and himself. He wagered that the man would have a list of questions! If he kept to his story about killing rats, he surely would go unchallenged. He picked up his pace remembering that some nights, as he would pass the Pharmacy it would be closed. As he turned on to Gilbert Lane he could see that a light still burnt inside. He hurried to the front door before the man could lock it! A small bell on a spring announced his entrance in to the quaint little shop. The chemist was sorting out some small metal weights and never bothered to look up. Scrooge looked about bewildered by the assortment of canisters and jars . . . .

What will it be sir, I’m about to put up the shutters. Ebenezer pretended that he was looking; as if he alone knew where to find whatever it was . . . . Please sir it’s closing time. The doors will be shut! He said it as if talking to a child. As if to scare the begeebers out of him . . . .

’Tis poison I’m after! The chemist continued with his shop keeping . . . . The land lord sent me over to purchase something to kill off the rats and mice that plague my rooms. The chemist raised one eyebrow and then disappeared into a row of high shelves. He emerged carrying a small unmarked canister . . . .

This tin is a bargain but effective. By Caesar, you can sprinkle some in the corner and if it gets in their fur; why their dust. All though I find the best method is to mix just a few grains in with the food. A plate of gravy seasoned with this; and no more problems. Scrooge wanted so much to ask what the effects would be but dared not . . . .

The name of the poison, what is it? Scrooge thought it respectable to at least ask the name . . . .

Don’t give it a thought. Just be certain to keep it out of reach, especially the young and the old. Make sure you wash up, after each application!. Scrooge looked down on the snuff sized tin . . . .

Is this enough? . . . .

My man that’s more than plenty to kill a team of horses! Five bob and it will last for years.—Scrooge laid the money on the counter and placed the tin in his pocket . . . . If you need more try to get in before the sixth bell. Scrooge heard the request as he turned to exit out the door. He felt so relieved that the man sold him the goods without question, believing his story about the rats . . . . Hold on!—Scrooge’s sphincter muscles began to twitch! . . . Sir, we’ve a log to fill, you just hold on. He waved for Scrooge to return to the counter. Ebenezer approached slowly . . . . The name sir; what is the name? Scrooge stood—puzzled! . . . . I need your name for the log . . . .

Marley—Jacob It rolled out of his mouth with little or no thought for the name was the answer to more than one question! As soon as he said the words he was swept with panic! How could a lie like that have jumped out without hesitation? What if he wanted some identification? . . . .

Mr. Jacobs then; fine, . . . . fine. He wrote in the ledger as his mouth uttered ‘fine’, over and over. Now just one scrap with your name on it and the powders are yours. . . . .

I’ve nothing on my person! Scrooge shouted at the man as if he were asking for more money. He reached into his pockets and found only a coin or two. He was turning an embarrassing shade of red and a cold dampness was glistening on his upper lip . . . .

Sir your vest pocket. He was pointing as if he could see straight through the cloth. Ebenezer reached into the coat pocket relieved that his hand hit a small deck of business cards. He slipped one out on to his hand and read it before handing it to the chemist. The man gave Scrooge a look like he were a student with the wrong answer! . . . Mr. Jacobs this is not your card! Scrooge grabbed the card and began to grin loudly . . .

Scrooge and Marley—no you misunderstand it’s Jacob Marley. . . . .

Ah yes; Jacob Marley. He crossed out Jacobs with a heavy scrape of the pen that sounded as if he were digging into the next page! . . . Is there anything more? . . . .

No.

Mr. Marley have a good night. Scrooge grinned wide and strutted out the door.

. . . . If only this dose dissolves in water . . . Scrooge made his way to his room where he set about heating water for a cup of Earl Gray. One cup of tea regular, one with a little condiment! As he sat waiting for the water to boil he dreamt of owning the loan shop, lock stock and barrel. He placed a few grains of the powder into the bottom of one cup. Then placed the tea inside the kettle and in with the hot water. After a minute or two he poured, placing his own cup on the far side of the table. As he poured he could see the leaves whirling around, only one cup had a little froth. He stirred the foam with his one and only spoon and magically it disappeared. Ebenezer let go a small squeal! One of many bottled up since childhood. He picked the cup up to sniff. There was no detectable odor! It looked just like tea! Tempted to taste it, Ebenezer almost put the cup to his lip! He quickly rose to the bedroom window and after opening it wide, flung the tea into the garden below. Upon closing the window he pulled up a chair, stirred his tea and drake it down.—He felt a mild pain between his chest and stomach! It came to him that he never wiped the spoon!—He grabbed his chest! Then striking his solar plexus with a clenched fist; he let go of a belch loud enough to insult an American. A seldom seen smile slowly poured into his tea stained mouth. The wheels inside his mind began plotting a little tea party for the office.

Ebenezer Scrooge massaged his knuckles, every joint seemed swollen. He winced. He suffered the plague of all that earn their wages with pen and ink. The cold, cold room and his many years before a writing table only magnified the ache felt by those twisted digits of greed. Ebenezer shelved his thought of pain and turned in his high back chair, shifting his eyes, to steal a glance at his aging partner. Old Jacob had been his companion in commerce for over twenty-five years! Now he looked both gray of hair and gray of mettle. Scrooge paused . . . . He had whiled away the decades awaiting this day. He knew from the first he met dear Marley, that he would be the one, the one owning it all! Marley the young wizard who amassed a small fortune, wheeling and dealing in corn, grains and cereals. Yes, Jacob Marley the genius but that was long, long ago. Now that Scrooge’s life long dream was about to hatch out, he noticed how everything in sight glistened! His heart pounded in expectation, and a strange hunger came upon him! Alas this Beagle minded bureaucrat had his financial fox up the tree!

Marley had been disrupting the tiny office, coughing as if parts of his innards were coming up his throat. A racking noise of phlegm and blood, that made both Ebenezer and Bob physically ill. Another soiled handkerchief leaped into Marley’s grip and then sprang up to his face! One lay on the counter, another on the floor. They seemed to be multiplying faster than rabbits from within his vest packet. Jacob did his best to hide them, for each held a smear of scarlet spittle. A red flag announcing to all that his days left on earth were to be counted in small numbers. The room ached with the need for resolution! Nothing was getting done! Ebenezer studied Jacob’s face. Then he broke the silence!

Jacob; I’ll get Bob to fetch you a cab! Go, get some rest! His voice resounded as if St. Peter himself were talking from the walls! Both Ebenezer and Bob prayed that Jacob would give it up and leave. Marley’s bleary eyes looked back across an ink stained, paper strewn office. He had trouble fixing on any object for his headache had come on again like a dark thundercloud. He rested his head in his hands to hide his discomposure.

. . . . How could it be that Scrooge, his junior should be telling him when to pack it in? . . . . No Ebenezer; no, fine I am, as fit as a fiddle. His voice was dry and smelly like the bottom of a snake pit in mid winter. He had just finished speaking, when again a cough grabbed him by the throat. His eyes welled up with tears as he slumped against his captain’s chair, clutching his secretary with ink stained hands. Laboring to catch each breath; his face alternating between beet red as he coughed . . . . then draining to stone gray as he tried to regain his wind. He turned his face to the wall so that no one could see . . . . He gasped! Feeling faint, he attempted to stand! Then falling back with a thud he surrendered, . . . . Marley gave in to his partner’s wishes . . . .

I think I’ll take my leave; get my rest for the morrow. A very small grin crept into the corner of Scrooge’s mouth. He buried his head in his work, desiring no one to know that Mr. Scrooge was capable of a smile.

Very good sir yes, very good Jacob., Scrooge spoke without raising his head, as if he were practicing ventriloquism. I’ll have Bob off with you on your way home.

Bob Cratchit, still looking trim for his two score, bounded off his stool at the expectation of escaping this little hell hole, of dis-ease. What an unexpected pleasure just to open the counting house door and inhaled some late Autumn air. If it came to it, he would carry old Marley home, just to breathe the oxygen off the dung-laden streets of London. Old Marley struggled to his feet. For a moment he swayed as if aboard ship. I’m but a short way down the high street, Bob, it’s not far.

. . . . In all my years never have I been so treated . . . that old Bibber . . . Thought Cratchit! Since his first days at his desk, some twenty years or more, Bob had always been the target of direct commands and orders. No one had ever offered to explain a thing, or bother to ask an opinion. Not that Bob had reason to complain; for at the time of his hiring he had just married and his wife was with child. Besides, the parish had taught Bob his skills, with pen and ink and had ingrained in him a humility, which would insure he would ever remain working under the cold shadow of Scrooge and Marley.

Mr. Marley struggled, getting on his long gray coat, for winter was all but upon them. Bob stood waiting; waiting for Mr. Marley but even more waiting for the day he too could afford a fine cloak. One glance outdoors and all could see that the season had advanced. The leaves had long since turned to gold, and collected in the streets and some mornings the ink froze in the inkwells. Bob donned his scarf and top hat. He then lightly pushed old Marley’s gray stovetop onto his thinning head. Marley grabbed Bob’s arm in a death grip, as they left the shop. The two staggered out the doorway.—If one was not on top of the situation, knowing that one gentleman, was ill; you would have sworn you were observing two drunks.

Bob started wishing that they had taken that cab. Mr. Marley was a lightweight, but he constantly stumbled. It took all of Bob’s efforts to keep the man steady and on his feet! A thought dropped into Cratchit’s subservient mind,

The old man may only weighs three stone, I’ll throw him over my shoulder and carry him off! If he drops!

They jockeyed down the cobbled stones, Jacob resting repeatedly. He had to stop and sit upon whatever was at hand, a wall or step even a shipping crate. He would gasp for air and looked as anxious as Charles I, a minute before he felt the ax. Bob stood guard enjoying the brilliant day. Cratchit rocked back and forth with contained joy as his eyes measured the young ladies strolling the streets on this crisp autumn afternoon. He had caught a glimpse of an ankle or two as the fair women, hiked their dress, to avoid a puddle or walk up a step. Cratchit felt as alive as a colt, just weaned!

The shadows from the rooftops were stretching half way down the street. It was taking far longer then both had suspected to finish the task. The sounds of everyday business were drawing to a close. The aroma of burning leaves wafted pleasantly across the high street. With hesitant effort, Jacob struggled to fill his faulty lungs with the air . . . . Bob inhaled all he could of the woodsy perfume. After numerous stops and starts the two arrived at Jacob’s home. Cratchit questioned Marley about the house for it looked more like an abandoned bank. He then held Marley as he unlocked the front door. Without cause Jacob quickly closed the door, blocking Bob’s entrance! He stuck his hatted head out the doorway and peered back up the walk toward the gate. After looking left and right he motioned for Bob to draw near.

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