It was Christmas Eve. Arthur Scrude sipped a glass of egg nog, lightly laced with rum and ruminated as he was wont to do on such occasions. He went through a mental check list. Christmas cards all mailed out, Christmas gifts wrapped and sent. He had given generously to all the Salvation Army Bellringers although generous was a relative term. He had made good money during his lifetime but three divorces had reduced his financial resources considerably.
Earlier in the day he had done his two hour stint at the public radio station reading from the newspaper for their special broadcasts for the blind. Then he had visited a hospice client who was near death's door and badly in need of company on Christmas Eve. He had concluded the evening with attendance at the candle light service at church with his chaste girlfriend, Christine. He had, as he always had, done his part to celebrate the true spirit of Christmas. He rinsed out his glass, folded his clothes carefully and went to bed. His last thoughts were, "I love Christmas."
He woke up with a start, feeling an icy hand upon his shoulder.
"Arthur wake up, wake up Arthur," said a raspy voice.
Arthur looked around in confusion. The illuminated dial on his bedside clock said one a.m. In the almost total darkness of his bedroom he could see a man, at least he thought it was a man, sitting by his bed.
"Who is it? How did you get in here? What do you want?" he cried out.
"One question at a time, if you please," the man said "but first I have a question. You are Arthur Scrude of 1225 Mistletoe Lane, Santa Claus, Indiana?"
"I am," Arthur said thinking it had been a grave mistake to add that rum to his eggnog.
"Good," the man said, "our record keeping ain't always up to snuff and I'd hate to waste my time on the wrong guy."
Arthur shook his head and rubbed his eyes trying desperately to wake up.
"You haven't answered my questions," Arthur said, as gruffly and sternly as he could manage.
"Okay, okay, here's the scoop. I am the Ghost of Christmas way way back. How I got in here is a trade secret and it ain't a question of what I want or you want it's what's gonna happen. If I had my druthers I'd still be at the office Christmas party but the boss has this thing about Christmas Eve. Probably comes from reading too much Charles Dickens. Dickens, Schmickens, what a butt hole he was."
"Oh my God," Arthur said, "I must be dreaming, please tell me I'm dreaming."
"You ain't dreaming, Arthur but fasten your seat belt cause in about three seconds we're gonna be flying." With that the ghost grabbed Arthur's hand with one hand, snapped his fingers on the other hand and they were air born.
"Where are we going?"
"Back to the past, Artie, way way back cause that's my beat."
Suddenly Arthur and the Ghost were in a bedroom which looked very familiar. On the bed a man and woman were making love and they looked very very familiar.
"Oh mercy," Arthur said, "this is the bedroom of the house in Riverdale and that's me and my first wife, Jeanine. Can they see us or hear us?"
"Nope but shut up and listen and learn."
Arthur watched in amazement as his wife, make that ex-wife, Jeanine lay on the bed with her legs spread wide apart and himself, his much younger self, lapped eagerly at her pussy. Jeanine moaned and groaned and bucked and heaved and had a righteous orgasm. Young Arthur smiled and said, "Did you come?"
"You know I did, Arthur and thank you very much," Jeanine said.
Arthur moved toward her, waddling like a duck on his knees, holding his erect cock in his hand. Jeanine looked at it disdainfully and said, "Arthur don't even ask."
"But Jeanine," Arthur said, "it's Christmas eve. I thought maybe just this once"
She interrupted him and said "I don't care if it's Christmas Eve, Christmas Day or the second coming. There's no way I'm sticking that thing in my mouth. Now go ahead and finish up like you always do."
Young Arthur said, "Okay" and moved between her legs, found the slot with no help from her, rocked up and down for a little while and then came. Then the vision began to blur and fade away and Arthur was alone with the Ghost.
"Pathetic," Arthur said, "just pathetic."
"Your words, Artie my boy," said the Ghost.
"But what could I do or what could have I done?"
"You might have tried to be more forceful, more assertive, more of a man. You know she enjoyed sex but only sex her way so you went along to get along and after a while you started looking around. And, against all odds, you found some bimbo who would cop your knob."
"Marlene," Arthur said.
"Don't interrupt me, I know what her name was, is. I also know that Jeanine took your ass seven ways from Sunday in the divorce court and you strained your relationship with your two children. It could have turned out differently."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh man, she might have liked licking your weanie once she got used to the idea but you didn't force the issue," the Ghost said.
