Having been transported to 1843 London, Atown-Liker has spent the afternoon in the offices of Scrooge and Player, helping himself to Ebeneezer Scrooge's ample quantities of ready cash. He's had an awful dinner and some warm ESB at a melencholy tavern and is returning now to Scrooge's dusty suite of rooms and the armoire that he hopes will transport him back to the Parallel future.
Yuck. I'm pretty sure that waiter didn't wash his hands when he used the bathroom. Hope they don't have swine flu around here. ... And that skunky beer .... I should have gone to the Bedlam Brew Works. ... Let's see ... this looks like Scrooge's house. I recognize that door knocker.
That's gotta be the ugliest thing I've ever seen on a house. ... And I'm from Allentown. Man, If I was planning to stay in this craphole any longer, I would definitely replace that junker.
Damn! Who the hell are you callin a junker? You look in a mirror lately? How bout I come out there and kick your ass?
What the hell?? Man. My eyes must be playing tricks on me. Musta been that beer. If I was staying here, I'd definitely take Player's name off a that sign too. ... Whatever. I got my cash, I'll hop in the armoire and get the hell outta here. That's right. You better hide in that ugly old house. You don't want any of this!This place is weird. Could this stairway be any darker? I could swear I just saw a horse-drawn hearse go right up the steps. ... Here we are. Sitting room, bedroom, lumber room. ... There's my armoire. Nobody under the table, nobody under the sofa; a small fire in the grate; spoon and basin ready; and a little saucepan of gruel. Gross. Might as well be grits from South of the Border. Nobody under the bed; nobody in the closet; nobody in my dressing-gown -- how gay is that dressing gown? ... Not much in the lumber room. What the hell is a lumber room anyway? Old fire-guards, old shoes, two fish baskets, a washing stand on three legs, and a poker. Poker? I don't even know her! ... God, they must miss my jokes back home.
Scrooooooge! What the hell? It sounds like somebody's dragging chains up the steps. How do you dial 911 in 1843? Scrooooooge!This place is haunted! ... I'm so outta here. I'll just climb into the armoire and -- grunt -- shut the doors behind me and I am thus secure. ... And ... ready ... GO! ... Um, GO! ... Crap. One, two, three ... GO? Ah, shit. ... Oh God, someone's trying to pry open the doors .... What??? ... YOU?
You're damn right it's me. ... It's your damn fault I'm dead!
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Monday: "I wear the damn chains I forged in life!"
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