With apologies to Charles Dickens.
Stave 1: Marley's Ghost
Marley had died a virgin. There is no doubt whatever about that. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail, and his cock had only ever been stiffened by his own hand.
Ebenezer Scrooge muttered to himself as he made his way home. He recalled a conversation he'd had earlier with his nephew, who once again, had invited him to Christmas dinner.
"Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us tomorrow."
Scrooge said that he would see him - yes, indeed he did. He went the whole length of the expression, and said that he would see him in that extremity first.
"But why?' cried Scrooge's nephew. "Why?"
"Why did you get married?" said Scrooge.
"Because I fell in love. And I wanted to experience the joys of carnal relations. Haven't you ever wanted to have sex with a beautiful woman, uncle?"
"Because you fell in love!" growled Scrooge, as if that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas.
"Bah, humbug! Carnal relations. What rot!"
A curious thing had occurred when, upon reaching his dismal living quarters, a vision of his deceased business partner had appeared on the door knocker. It had definitely been Marley's face, yet a second later, the ghostly visage had disappeared and the door knocker looked as it always did.
He shook his head. A trick of the mind, surely?
He continued grumbling to himself as he changed into his nightshirt and dressing gown. Later, he sat alone in his private quarters, a small fire in the grate; spoon and basin ready; and the little saucepan of gruel upon the hob.
Scrooge was always miserable. The real reason known only to him was that he was impotent, and had been for many years.
All at once, bells started ringing, everything in the room began shaking, and with an almighty crash, the ghost of Jacob Marley appeared, dragging a large chain.
"How now!" said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever. "What do you want with me?"
"Much!" - Marley's voice, no doubt about it.
"Who are you?"
"Ask me who I was."
"Who were you then?" said Scrooge, raising his voice.
"In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley."
"You are fettered,' said Scrooge, trembling. 'Tell me why?"
"I wear the chain I forged in life,' replied the Ghost. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard; It is a chain of sexual frustration - each link representing a time when I was forced to wank myself off."
Scrooge trembled more and more. "Ye Gods, Jacob. It's a wonder you never went blind. Old Jacob Marley, tell me more. Speak comfort to me, Jacob!"
"I have none to give," the Ghost replied. "No rest, no peace. Incessant torture of remorse. And to be cursed with a high sex drive for all eternity, but no-one to satisfy my urges with."
Scrooge was puzzled by this. "You're seven years dead. In that time, how come you haven't encountered any female spirits? There must be thousands."
"Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed," cried the phantom, "not to know, that ages of incessant labour, by immortal creatures, for this earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible is all developed. Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was I! In short, In death, I am cursed never to lie with a woman, spirit or mortal."
Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear the spectre going on at this rate about his lack of a sex life, and began to quake exceedingly.
"Hear me!' cried the Ghost. "My time is nearly gone. I am here tonight to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer."
"You were always a good friend to me," said Scrooge. "Thank ye! I wish you'd confided in me about your problems. I'm sure I could've found a suitable, reasonably-priced harlot from the local bawdy house who would've introduced you into the ways of sex. Risk of the pox and syphilis of course, but at least you'd have died happy."
"You will be haunted," resumed the Ghost, "by Three Spirits."
"I - I think I'd rather not," said Scrooge.
"Without their visits,' said the Ghost, "you cannot hope to shun the sexless path I tread. Expect the first tomorrow, when the bell tolls one. Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!"
Stave 2: The First Of The Three Spirits
Scrooge was awoken as the bells tolled one. The curtains of his bed were drawn aside; and Scrooge, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found himself face to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them. She was a stunning figure - a fresh-faced young blonde woman of about nineteen or twenty. She had the widest blue eyes he'd ever seen, and the way her hips moved with a youthful, almost sexual energy as she walked over to the side of the bed.
"Are you the Spirit, miss, whose coming was foretold to me?" asked Scrooge.
"I am."
The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.
"Who, and what are you?" Scrooge demanded.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."
His eyes were locked on hers, and when she broke his gaze to look around the room, his glance took in the rest of the waist-up view: flawless skin, a graceful neck, the white silk gown that was almost completely see-through...he could see the swell of her rose-tipped breasts.
