Epicmafia

A Sandbox Carol, Chapter 2

about 8 years

This lunatic, in letting Bebop's nephew out, had let two other people in. They were portly gentlemen, pleasant to behold, and now stood, with their hats off, in Bebop's office. They had books and papers in their hands, and bowed to him.

"Bebop and JamalMarley's, I believe," said one of the gentlemen, referring to his list. "Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Bebop, or Mr. JamalMarley?"

"Mr. JamalMarley has been dead these seven years," Bebop replied. "He died seven years ago, this very night."

"We have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his surviving partner," said the gentleman, presenting his credentials.

"At this festive season of the year, Mr. Bebop," said the gentleman, taking up a pen, "it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and Destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir."

"Are there no prisons?" asked Bebop.

"Plenty of prisons," said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.

"And the Union workhouses?" demanded Bebop. "Are they still in operation?"

"They are. Still," returned the gentleman, "I wish I could say they were not."

"The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?" said Bebop.

"Both very busy, sir."

"Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course," said Bebop. "I'm very glad to hear it."

"Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude," returned the gentleman, "a few of us are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink and means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?"

"Nothing!" Bebop replied.

"You wish to be anonymous?"

"I wish to be left alone," said Bebop. "Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at Christmas and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned -- they cost enough; and those who are badly off must go there."

"Many can't go there; and many would rather die."

"If they would rather die," said Bebop, "they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides -- excuse me -- I don't know that."

"But you might know it," observed the gentleman.

"It's not my business," Scrooge returned. "It's enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people's. Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen!"

deletedabout 8 years

how did i miss this omg

deletedabout 8 years

holy shet holy shet

sl0nderman

about 8 years

Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular about the knocker on the door, except that it was very large. It is also a fact, that Bebop had seen it, night and morning, during his whole residence in that place; also that Bebop had as little of what is called fancy about him as any man in the city of London, even including -- which is a bold word -- the corporation, aldermen, and livery. Let it also be borne in mind that Bebop had not bestowed one thought on JamalMarley, since his last mention of his seven years' dead partner that afternoon. And then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it happened that Bebop, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without its undergoing any intermediate process of change -- not a knocker, but Jessie Williams's face.

Jessie Williams's face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked at Bebop as JamalMarley used to look: with ghostly spectacles turned up on its ghostly forehead. The hair was curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot air; and, though the eyes were wide open, they were perfectly motionless. That, and its livid colour, made it horrible; but its horror seemed to be in spite of the face and beyond its control, rather than a part or its own expression.
As Bebop looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a knocker again.

sl0nderman

about 8 years

At length the hour of shutting up the countinghouse arrived. With an ill-will Bebop dismounted from his stool, and tacitly admitted the fact to the expectant clerk in the Tank, who instantly snuffed his candle out, and put on his hat.

"You'll want all day to-morrow, I suppose?" said Bebop.

"If quite convenient, sir."

"It's not convenient," said Bebop, "and it's not fair. If I was to stop half-a-token for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I'll be bound?"

Christopherzilla smiled faintly.

"And yet," said Bebop, "you don't think me ill-used, when I do it for free."

Christopherzilla observed that it was only once a year.

"A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December!" said Bebop, buttoning his great-coat to the chin. "But I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning."