REV. We are gathered here today to lay to rest the earthly remains of our dear departed brother Jacob Timothy Marley. May he rest in peace. What can one say about a man like Jacob Marley...? (Pause. He looks around helplessly, at a loss for words. No one offers any suggestions, so...) Amen.

SCR. Beautiful ceremony, Reverend. Very concise. Economy of words. He would have liked that.

REV. You must be the next of kin.

SCR. I'm his business partner, yes. Ebenezer Scrooge.

REV. Oh good, because there is still a bit of business to attend to.

SCR. What's that?

REV. The fee.

SCR. What fee?

REV. For the service.

SCR. I wasn't aware that I had done you a service.

REV. The memorial service. The blessing upon his soul.

SCR. Oh, that. Think nothing of it, Reverend. I am happy to oblige. Yours is not a breed of superstition I particularly subscribe to. But the rituals are amusing enough, and seemingly harmless overall. And we would have buried him anyway, so it wouldn't be right to charge you for it.

REV. Superst--- The laying to rest of the deceased is one of the most fundamental and essential sacraments in all of Christendom. That's why one hires a clergyman to perform it.

SCR. Hires?

REV. Yes, hires.

SCR. You don't expect me to pay you for exploiting the occasion of my dear partner's death to practice your bizarre and antiquated customs over his helpless corpse?

REV. There is nothing bizarre or antiquated about commending the spirit to the hereafter.

SCR. The human spirit is a humbug.

REV. A hum--?? Your language, Mr. Scrooge! I am a minister. And there are ladies present.

SCR. Minister, indeed! A minister of finance! If I had known that your interest in Jacob Marley's soul was purely mercenary, I would have put a stop to it immediately. This is a funeral, sir.

REV. Yes! I know! I performed the service!

SCR. A service you perform only for the wealthy dead, I take it, and those with a pocketful of change to scavenge. What happens to the poor and indigent? Cast into the Thames with a stone about their necks?

REV. Of course not. Every soul is equal in the eyes of heaven, regardless of wealth or stature. But I hope you're not suggesting that His Divine Magnanimity excuses your debt to the church?

SCR. I hope you're not suggesting that I pay you for a service you probably would have performed anyway with or without my consent.

REV. That is precisely what I am suggesting, Mr. Scrooge. I came here in good faith, in your time of need, to say a few words over your friend.

SCR. If your words had any commercial value, you would do as any manufacturer does with a defective product, and take them back, for I have no use for them.

REV. I do take them back! I curse him. May he never rest in peace. And may you never find it either, so long as you walk this Earth. Nor ever after.

SCR. Bah!

REV. You are an affront to humanity and decency, Mr. Scrooge - you, and any man like you.

SCR. I'm glad you got that off your chest. Now get out of my sight before I charge you a physician's fee for the therapeutic release.

REV. This miscourtesy will haunt you, Ebenezer Scrooge.

SCR. Bah!

REV. Merry Christmas.

SCR. Humbug!

WIF. Excuse me. Mr. Scrooge, is it? Mayhap you will remember me? I am the wife of the gravedigger.

SCR. What's that to me?

WIF. My husband asked me to speak to you.

SCR. What kind of man is he that he cannot speak for himself?

WIF. He's a deaf mute man, sir.

SCR. Ah. Yes, that's right. What is it then?

WIF. Well, we couldn't help overhearing your quarrel with the Reverend.

SCR. And now you're wondering if I intend to pay your fees, as well? You needn't worry. Ebenezer Scrooge always settles his debts. (reaching for his purse) Now, how much was it again?

WIF. Nine shillings, sir.

SCR. The price you quoted me this summer was six.

WIF. But that was five months ago. We thought you wanted him buried then.

SCR. He wasn't dead then.

WIF. Then why were you asking about it? You're not involving us in some grisly bit of business, are you? ...Because that'll cost you extra.

SCR. Nothing of the sort. A good businessman is prepared for every contingency, that is all: Sudden illness. Fall from a horse. Swallowed some arsenic. Do you wait until the bodies arrive at the cemetery to start digging a hole?

WIF. Of course, we do.

SCR. Well, you see, that's poor planning. That's why you live in a little cottage here on the cemetery grounds. You would do better to dig your holes in summer when the ground is soft. Opportunity, madam.

WIF. But it's winter now and the ground is hard. ...And it's Christmas!

SCR. What the devil does that matter? I was promised one grave, dug and filled, for six shillings, and I'll not be swindled out of a penny more.

WIF. And we won't bury him for less than nine. We'll not be swindled either, Mr. Scrooge.

SCR. Well, then we are at a stalemate.

WIF. Aye, that we are. If stalemate means what I think it does.

DIG. [It's a deadlock. In a game of chess. When neither player can win and neither player can lose, so the game ends in a draw.]

SCR. I have an idea how we might settle this. (handing her his business card:) This is my business address. And my residence. As you can see, it is a suite of offices in the mercantile district on the far side of London. So it is my suggestion that we leave him to rot in the open air, if you like, next to your cottage, and we shall see which of us is overcome by the stench first.

WIF. You are a wicked, wicked man.

SCR. Then you would do well not to cross me, cross me, Mrs. Gravedigger.

DIG. [What are we going to do we do now?]

WIF. Well, we can't just leave him! The old miser's right, he'll stink up the whole graveyard. But there's no point in exerting ourselves on a proper burial. Throw a layer of dirt on him to soak up the stink and leave it at that.

DIG. [And where are you going?]

WIF. I'm going into the house.

To bake us a pie, sweeting. It's still Christmas, after all! Or had you forgotten?

MAR. HAAAAAAAAAAHH!!

Merciful Hades, what a nightmare. I dreamed I was being buried alive by a hideous hen-pecked deaf mute. (realizing:) Wait a moment, where am I? What am I doing in a graveyard? In my bedclothes? On a Saturday? How did I get here? (noticing the Gravedigger) And who are you?

Answer me, Man!

Where are you going? Don't walk away from me! I am Jacob Marley!

Oh no... He's a deaf mute. Just like in my dream. How is this happening? This had better not be one of Bob's pranks. (loudly) Do you hear me, Bob Cratchit? (no response) Bob? (nothing) Nephew? (still nothing) I'd better not find out you've dragged me off to a graveyard in the middle of the night and left me there. Alone. Without even someone around to pinch me to see if I'm dreaming.

What's that? Who's out there? (recognizing:) That ghostly presence... That deathly pale complexion! ...Is that you, Ebenezer?

There you are, Scrooge. You nearly startled me, creeping about in the dark like that. Come, help your old partner out of this hole he's got himself into. I've just had the most harrowing nightmare. And you were in it. And that Reverend Hedges. Do you remember him? The one who owes us money. And there was a wretched funeral in my dream. I wonder who it was for---

Ow! You pinched me! What was that for? Wait a minute! You're not Scrooge! You're not my partner. Who are you? What do you want with me?

What? You want me to come with you?

No, I'm not going anywhere. Not with the likes of you.

Why not? Because you're wandering around a graveyard draped in black like some ghastly undead spirit sent to torment the living, for one thing.

Oh, you're not here to torment the living?

You're here to torment me? That's very funny, "spirit." Very amusing. Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to torment me some other time, because I'm clearly not feeling well this evening. I wonder if I have a fever. That would certainly explain this vivid delirium. But more likely it's something I ate. Or something I didn't eat. I always suffer the most morbid fantasies when I miss my evening meal. It's my penance for working so late. But that's the curse of the successful businessman. Yes, now that I think about it, I was having the most excruciating stomach pangs as I took to my bed. That must be it. So you see, Spirit, you are merely a figment of my indigestion. There's nothing so spectral about you that it can't be exorcised with a spot of tea and a sandwich the moment I wake from this dream.

Ouch! You pinched me again! (sudden realization:) Again? You pinched me before and I felt that, too. ...Oh no.

But that would mean...?

But that's impossible. No, it can't be. I can't be not dreaming.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow. Stop it! No more pinching!

So I'm not asleep. Is that it? But what am I to make of this? How can this be real? And how did I come to be spirited out of my bed and transported across town and left standing in an open grave in my bed clothes? And why? And how? And who are you? And who's grave is this? And what does any of this have to do with me?

What? The tombstone? What about it?

No, I don't want to read the inscription. Just tell me what it says.

(Phantom continues to gesture more and more emphatically.)

I don't want to look. What does it say? Who is buried here? Tell me, Spirit! Speak to me! Whose grave is this?

...Just tell me! Who is dead?

WIL. Merry Christmas, Tuttle!

TUT. Merry Christmas to you, Mr. Wilkins! And a happy New Year!

WIL. And a prosperous one, too, by the looks of it. Now that we're here.

MAR. Tuttle and Wilkins? (Marley ducks behind the Phantom to avoid being seen.) Ahem. Former business associates of mine. What are they doing here?

WIL. Yes, I never thought I'd see the day.

TUT. Marley swore neither of us would ever set foot in his counting-house as long as he lived.

MAR. Indeed, I did.

TUT. And here we are.

MAR. The counting-house? (Glancing around in a panic, Marley suddenly realizes that it is the office of his own counting-house of "Marley & Scrooge".) How did we get here? (to Tuttle & Wilkins) Get out! Get out, you! This minute! Or I'll have you apprehended as trespassers!

TUT. So you've heard the news, of course?

WIL. Yes, of course.

MAR. What news? What have you heard?? (to the Phantom) Why won't anyone listen to me today?

TUT. Are you going to the funeral?

WIL. On Christmas day? I think that man has ruined enough of my holidays without me giving him one more to spoil posthumously.

MAR. What are these? Some insensible visions that can neither see nor hear?

BOB. Oh, hello.

MAR. My nephew Bob! He'll put a stop to this.

WIL. What about you, Bob Cratchit? Going to the funeral?

BOB. No, sir, I have work.

WIL. On Christmas day?

BOB. Well, there's more to do now.

TUT. You ought to think about taking on extra help.

BOB. Well, our Jenny here has been a real blessing.

MAR. Ha! The girl is incompetent. I don't know why I hired her.

TUT. But what you need is another clerk.

BOB. I'm afraid there's no budget for it. Mr. Scrooge says it's the economy.

TUT. That Scrooge is becoming every bit as stingy as his partner.

WIL. I wouldn't say Marley was stingy... shrewd, yes.

TUT. Frugal.

WIL. Yes. Tight-fisted.

TUT. Penny-pinching.

WIL. Money grubbing.

MAR. Heh heh heh. I am all that.

TUT. Miserly.

WIL. Malicious.

TUT. Insidious.

WIL. Vicious.

MAR. That's enough!

TUT. Insufferable.

WIL. Malignant.

TUT. Diabolical.

WIL. Malignant.

MAR. Now you have gone too far! I don't care if I am invisible to you, I want the both of you out of my counting-house this instant! Spirit, do something! You can't let them talk about me behind my back like this, right before my eyes. (to Tuttle & Wilkins) So help me, Gentlemen, when I am tangible again, I shall crush you like a pair of insects.

TUT. You said malignant twice.

WIL. Yes, but I enjoyed it so much the first time. Ha ha ha!

JEN. (loudly indignant:) Gentlemen, for shame! The way you talk! I happen to think that Mr. Marley is the sweetest, kindest, most generous man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.

MAR. I always liked her. Very capable.

JEN. And it's a crime the two of you speaking ill of him.

MAR. Indeed!

WIL. He cannot hear you, Jenny. He's dead.

MAR. You will certainly wish I were when I get ahold of you!

JEN. Are you sure?

TUT. Dead as a doornail.

JEN. This isn't one of Bob Cratchit's pranks?

BOB. I wouldn't joke about that, Jenny. He's really dead this time.

MAR. Dead?

JEN. You're sure? This isn't another trick?

MAR. Bah! One time I counterfeit a death certificate for insurance purposes. And I have yet to hear the end of it.

JEN. You're absolutely certain?

WIL. & TUT. Yes!!

JEN. Well, good, because that man was the very devil.

TUT. That's the spirit!

WIL. And his partner's no better, trust me.

JEN. Between the three of them, I don't know who's the worse.

TUT. Three?

JEN. Marley or Scrooge or the devil himself.

WIL. Ha ha ha! That's a slander, Jenny.

TUT. Against the devil! Ha ha ha!

JEN. I never thought I'd live to see a more hateful couple of scoundrels than Mr. Marley and Mr. Scrooge. Spiteful, inhospitable, good for nothing--

WIL. Careful now, Jenny, Scrooge still walks among us.

JEN. ... nothing but bringing joy into the lives of all they meet.

SCR. Mr. Tuttle, Mr. Wilkins... Please step into my office, we have long overdue business to conduct.

MAR. Business? With them? After what I've done to them?? Or rather, what they've done to me? Don't you dare, Ebenezer! This goes against our charter. I forbid it!

SCR. And Jenny?

JEN. Yes, Mr. Scrooge, sir?

SCR. You are dismissed.

JEN. I'm done for the day? Thank you, Mr. Scrooge!

SCR. You are done forever. Pack your things and be gone before the day is out. And clear out your room at the worker's hostel. If you don't care for my hospitality, we shall see how living in the street suits you.

JEN. But... but sir, it's Christmas.

SCR. Then your Christmas wish had better be that the devil and I do not bring a civil action against you for slander.

MAR. But whose funeral do you suppose they meant?

WIF. Come on, let's get it over with. Get him up out of there.

Lucky I made arrangements with a doctor at the medical school. He pays good money for fresh corpses to be chopped up by the interns. "Cadavers" he calls 'em. He'll pay two crowns a head if all the parts are there. There was a dog sniffin' about earlier, I hope he didn't get at him.

DIG. [It looks like he's all here.]

WIF. Stop dallying then, and heave him up quick. I've still got stuffing to make if we're having company over.

MAR. Where are you going? This is grave robbery! Spirit, can you do nothing to prevent this abomination? That poor, wretched man! ...Whoever he is.

PAW. Let the laundress come next. Then the undertaker's man after that. And the charwoman may follow third.

Come into the parlour, Mrs. Neuman. I've been expecting a visit from you since I heard of his death.

LAU. I would have been here sooner, but that old Scrooge has hardly left his bedside, watching over him like a carrion bird.

MAR. Is it a friend of Scrooge who has died, Spirit? That would explain his erratic business dealings. Sorrow must have addled his brain. It's not his nephew Fred, is it? He pampers that boy, you know.

MAR. Ow!

PAW. So what do you have for me?

LAU. Undo the bundle there and see. I came straight from the dead man's house.

PAW. What do you call this? Bed-curtains?

LAU. Aye. Bed-curtains.

PAW. You don't mean to say you took them down, rings and all, with him lying there?

LAU. Yes I do, why not? If he wanted to keep them after he was dead, the wicked old screw, why wasn't he natural in his lifetime? If he had been, he'd have had somebody to look after him when he was struck with Death, instead of lying gasping out his last there, alone by himself, with that old vulture leering over him.

PAW. It's the truest word that ever was spoke. It's a judgment on him.

LAU. I certainly shan't hold my hand, when I can get anything in it by reaching it out, for the sake of such a man as he was, I promise you. Don't drop that oil upon the blankets, now.

PAW. His blankets?

LAU. Whose else's do you think? He isn't likely to take cold without them, I dare say.

PAW. I hope he didn't die of anything catching.

LAU. Don't you be afraid of that. He was in perfect health, that one. There's not a plague in Christendom that wouldn't choke on a bite of his bitter hide.

Ah. you may look through that shirt till your eyes ache; but you won't find a hole in it, nor a threadbare place. It's the best he had, and a fine one too. They'd have wasted it, if it hadn't been for me.

PAW. What do you call wasting of it?

LAU. Putting it on him to be buried in, to be sure, Somebody was fool enough to do it, but I took it off again.

PAW. Mrs. Neuman, that's inhuman! And immodest, you are a married woman.

LAU. Oh, you are of a filthy mind. I left him in his bed clothes. Besides, if decency were a concern for him, he might have shown some of it during his lifetime.

PAW. Ha, ha. That's true enough. He frightened every one away from him when he was alive, to profit us when he was dead. Ha, ha, ha.

MAR. Now I understand, Spirit, why you have visited me tonight. Poor Scrooge has suffered some terrible loss, which has deeply affected his judgement or he never would have let valuables slip out of a house right under his nose. I shall be mindful of his fragile state and strive to employ the utmost tact when I reprimand him for his irresponsible dealings with Tuttle and Wilkins.

REV. Come in, my child. You're freezing. (perplexed) Though it's not that cold out.

HOU. It's the house I work for. We're not allowed coal in it.

MAR. That's my housekeeper, Mrs. Adrian!

HOU. I'm sorry to disturb you at such an ungodly hour, Reverend, and on a holiday no less, but I have a perilous fear for my soul if I don't make immediate confession.

REV. Not to worry, the Lord never rests, and neither does his holy church.

HOU. But he rests on Sundays, doesn't he?

REV. Uh... What seems to be the matter, Mrs. Adrian?

HOU. I have committed a wrong so grievous that the thought of it haunts my every waking moment and disturbs me in my sleep with guilt of what I have done.

REV. What is it, Mrs. Adrian? Tell me.

HOU. This past Tuesday... I wished my employer ill. ...And then he became ill. ...And died.

MAR. What rubbish! I'm her only employer!

REV. You didn't!

HOU. I did, have mercy on my soul, I did.

REV. Oh, Mrs. Adrian...

HOU. I know I shouldn't have. I know it. I should have held my temper. But I am only a housekeeper, Reverend, and not a wealthy one at that, though I work like a very beaver, I do, trying to keep his house clean. So when he upbraided me for using too much soap on the floorboards, and took the cost of the extra cleaning out of my salary. Well, I lost all patience.

REV. What did you do?

HOU. I looked him straight in the eye and said... "Yes, sir. Right away, sir. May the Lord bless and keep you, sir. ...And the sooner the better."

MAR. I remember that. It happened two days ago.

HOU. And it was not two days later that tragedy befell him. His heart stopped. And I knew it was my doing for speaking ill of him in God's earshot.

REV. That is a grave transgression, Moira.

HOU. (sobbing) I know it.

REV. But it is good that your conscience troubles you. If it did not, I should be the more concerned.

HOU. I should not have let him get to me. But Mr. Marley can be such a trial sometimes.

REV. Marley? Jacob Marley?!

HOU. Aye, you know him, Reverend?

REV. I have just now come from being robbed at his funeral by his partner!

HOU. Oh, I'm sorry, Reverend.

REV. The two of them hold the mortgage on this church. And last week, before he died, your Mr. Marley foreclosed on it. He repossessed the church. God is being evicted from his house.

MAR. Heh heh. God ought to have kept up his payments.

REV. If that man is dead now, I tell you, his passing is no tragedy. It's an act of divine retribution, my word on it.

HOU. Oh my.

REV. Good riddance!

HOU. Reverend!

REV. If he's roasting in the fiery pits of a place I dare not mention in the presence of God and mixed company, it's a gentler fate than he deserves.

HOU. Yes, Reverend.

REV. May his unholy spirit linger forever in perpetual damnation.

HOU. Yes Reverend.

REV. His decrepit soul writhing in unspeakable torments.

HOU. I understand, Reverend.

REV. From now till the death of eternity.

HOU. Thank you, Reverend, I feel much relieved. He was a bastard, that Mr. Marley.

REV. Damn him!

HOU. ...Yes.

REV. Damn his infernal spirit!

HOU. I'd better go now.

MAR. So now I am to believe myself deceased, is that it?

Very funny, Spirit. Now I see your game. Someone who thinks but little of my intelligence has gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange this cruel and elaborate hoax at my expense. Well, I am not a man without humour. As you shall soon see when I catch the dickens who put you up to this, and if he is in my employ, I shall terminate him. And if he is in business, I shall bankrupt him. And if he is indebted to me, God help him, for I shall call in his debt forthwith and take possession of his home and cast him out of his bed and into the gutter and send him laughing all the way to the poor house.

MAR. No more of your pinching! And poking and prodding. I am not dead. Nor am I like to soon be. But you, if you touch me again, so help me... I shall have you brought up on charges of assault. In fact, I think I shall do it anyway. Constable!! I hope you have enjoyed your ghostly charades. Because if you were to speak now, even to beg for mercy, nothing you could say would convince me to spare you and your accomplices from the full weight and consequence of my righteous litigation!

SCR. Cratchit! Bob Cratchit!

BOB. Yes, Mr. Scrooge?

SCR. I thought I told you to repaint this sign.

BOB. I did, sir. That's a fresh coat. Have a care, it's still wet.

SCR. No, no, no, it's all wrong. The sign should say "Scrooge & Marley". That's what I asked for.

BOB. But, sir, it's been "Marley & Scrooge" for the past 24 years.

SCR. Yes, and it's going to be "Scrooge & Marley" for the next 24 and then, if he likes, we can switch back. Now get to it. And take the cost of the wasted paint out of your pay.

BOB. Yes, sir. "Scrooge & Marley", sir. "Scrooge & Marley".

MAR. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Spirit, what fresh horrors are these? Scrooge changing the name of the firm? That I created? He wouldn't dare to do such a thing while I'm alive. Not even in jest! Not even in a dream!

Then it's true. I'm dead. That's what these visions are trying to tell me. Or soon shall be if I don't mend my ways.

Then I am resolved. First thing in the morning, I shall look to my diet. No more lavish dinners. Only dry breads and grains. And exercise! From now on I'll make two trips to the bank every day instead of one. It's probably not safe to carry that much money on me, anyway. And effective immediately, Bob Cratchit shall work double shifts on Sundays and Holidays so that I may have some time off. I mustn't overwork myself. It strains the vital organs. I don't want to end up in an early grave like the man you've shown me tonight.

But before you go, Spirit, answer me one question to ease my mind. These visions that you have shown me, are they the shadows of things that may come to pass? Or are they shadows of things that will come to pass.

Ow! Ow!! Ow!!!

All right! All right! Spirit, have mercy. I can deny it no longer. I don't need to read it, Spirit. I know what it says. That is my name on the headstone. For these are things that have come to pass. And Jacob Marley is dead.