Mr. Michael Kelly at the "Page of Misery" has penned a good old fashioned Christmas ghost story in the fine British tradition and has made it available for free to all classes, even those who have attended mere Polytechnics or Trade Colloquia and who now toil in the Internet Mines, bearded and fierce, laughing too hard at digital videos of children learning to curse.

"Look at the camera and say "fuck" for Daddy, Roger!"

"Fuwk foah Daddee Rawgah!"

"HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW!"



"HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW!"

Mr Kelly's story is called "A Christmas Ghost Story" and it features:

-- A frame narrative.
-- Two maiden aunts.
-- An uncle with perversions.
-- Sideburn theft.
-- A nubile, unattended young female with a shapely back.
-- A broken engagement after revelations of character.
-- A ghost with demands.

Here is a climactic moment to whet your appetite:

'I will open Eustace's present first,' said Roderick, grabbing the parcel excitedly. 'He always gives the best presents.'

'Er - no, no, open someone else's,' said Eustace nervously.

Roderick's face fell as he opened the parcel. 'Oh. Socks.'

'Yes,' said Eustace with a fixed grin, assaying some of Roderick's own patent Christmas-present-salesmanship technique. 'A man can never have too many socks, eh?'

'Can you have forgotten that following my uncle's death I have inherited, among other things, the largest sock factory in England?'

'Ah - I may have done. However this pair - '

'Is a rather inferior brand I would not give to my servants. Furthermore they are, in colouring, what we refer to in the trade as piss-yellow.'

'Oh well, better luck next time,' said Eustace with a failed attempt at cheerful insouciance.

Cheap gift idea: save the URL of this fine, free tale on a flash drive shaped like a monkey's paw along with pictures of your aroused genitalia and stuff the whole package in the stocking of someone you love, or are otherwise not indifferent to (i.e. you have access to their stocking). If you need to break into someone's house to do this, go ahead: I give you permission. The holidays are meant to be shared, like the communal toilet in a leper colony.

Posted by miracle on Tue, 23 Dec 2008 19:49:08 -0500 -- permanent link