Prologue
Homer was dead... Peter's business associate Homer J Marley has ceased to exist. It was there on pen and paper. The death certificate noted on December 24th, 1836, Homer was gone. The undertaker, the clerk, the clergymen, and Peter G. Scrooge can all testify that he was absolutely, positively, undeniably dead as Simba's father of many centuries ago. It all happened so fast. Peter and Homer were one of the wealthiest bankers in all of London by 1832. Both were shrewd in their practices and didn't spend a single penny they earned. They owned most of the slum homes in Central London because of the many people moving here and the need for money. They lent money out to most of the city's poor and squeezed every penny out of them, with the threat of foreclosure. And it worked, and it didn't stop there. They lent money and foreclosed hospitals, schools, and even orphanages. The profits they made were beyond anyone's wildest dreams, but the money was never spent. Nothing came out of that bank. Peter and Homer became they shrewdest money lenders in all of London. Peter was one of the most notorious. Why, if they gave a prize for being mean, he'd be a winner every time. He doesn't care for anything. He just takes whatever is available for payment and gets money out of it all the time. Does he care for the poor? No. Does he care for the feelings of others? No. He is only concerned with one thing, money. When Homer died, Peter considered his death a pain. I mean, it costs a fortune to pay for a coffin, the undertaker, and a death certificate. It would have cost more if he paid for a funeral. He just didn't care enough to do that type of expensive work. He never cared for his business partner either and he still doesn't to this day. Why should he care now. It's been seven years since.
December 24, 1843
"Ms. Elric, As owner of this house you have rented with my money. I have decided that this house will be foreclosed. You are hereby evicted. Gather your things, you are being kicked out". Peter G Scrooge was about to foreclosure another home. He didn't give the tenets any notice of the foreclosure before this.
"Please, I beg you" Ms. Elric said, her youngest child in her arms. "My children and I don't have anywhere to go. And it's freezing outside. Please reconsider Mr. Scrooge.
"Ms. Elric, I'm not sure you're aware, but I haven't been receiving any payment for that house loan you took out. I'm a very impatient man. I'm not going to wait around for money to appear. You give me no choice.
"But my husband left us a month ago, and there is no money coming in. Anything we do get goes to keeping us alive. Ed had to get his leg amputated because of a railway accident. And poor Alphonse is gravely sick. We've gone days without food. We don't even have money to buy clothes, nor shoes. I beg you to please give me more time to find money, please". Ms. Elric shows Peter her youngest child, Alphonse, lifeless in her arms, occasionally going into a coughing fit. His eldest boy, Edward, comes in walking with a crutch in his arms, his left leg gone.
"Mama" Ed said. "What's going on?". Peter was amused.
"Ha. Cute cripple. You should feed him more".
"But I told you Mr. Scrooge, there is no food".
"Your fault. Anyway, I'm going to kick you out now. I don't care if your family is sick. I want my money".
"But it's Christmas, you can't do this to us". Ms. Elric was in tears. "P-please. Have a heart...". Peter thought of it... No. Why should he care. He proceeds to throw Ms. Elric and her boys out of their home forcefully. Al was crying in his mother's arms, Ed was beside his mother, angry and scared. Where will they go now? Peter just looked at them.
"Now, don't come back until you give me my money. Better start selling your body woman. You have a sexy body, perfect for money making". Peter chuckles.
"Monster! How do you sleep at night?"
"Like a Chinese man on opium". Peter just laughs.
"Please. It's freezing".
"Oh, get a sweater. It's not that cold. You're just faking it. Good day woman". Peter just leaves. Ms. Elric keeps begging but it doesn't work. They were thrown on the street. What will they do now? Peter doesn't care. He just wants the money. As for the weather, he doesn't care about that either. He liked the cold. He was hard and sharp as a flint, secretive and self-contained, and as solitary as an oyster, whatever the hell that means. He makes his way from the slum row onto the main street. The street is filled with holiday cheer, being that it twas the day before Christmas. Children were singing Christmas carols and families were going about just enjoying the holiday. Boy does he hate it.
"Merry Christmas Mr. Scrooge!"
"Mr. Scrooge! Merry Christmas!".
"Have a Merry Christmas Mr. Scrooge!". God! How he hated this holiday so much. This was more annoying than that one time this moustached guy with glasses who was happily paying his loan off, frickin' praying to God. Peter needs to let off some steam.
"Flowers. Please buy some flowers. Would you like a flower?"
It was a little flower girl, with dirty brown hair, trying to earn money selling flowers. She only had a ragged dress and a thin shawl to cover her. The people around her would pity her. She must've not eaten in days they thought, so they would buy some of the flowers she sells. Peter just continues to walk.
"Buy a flower please mister?". The girl approaches to Peter, who to spite the caring, giving, Christmas spirit, pushes the girl aside. As a result, she fell onto the pavement, her flowers also fall onto the pavement, ruining them.
"Oh sorry" Peter says with pure sarcasm, "I have seasonal allergies to both flowers and the poor". Peter walks away laughing while the girl tries to get what flowers she had left, any livelihood not ruined by the snow, while she tears up. She won't have anything to eat, and she is awfully hungry, but Peter doesn't care. He has no heart for the poor. He continues on to his office. He's feeling a little better about himself, but he still needs to let go some anger of the season.
"Matches. Does anyone want to buy matches?"
Score. There was a little match girl with blue hair. Her feet were quite red and blue from walking in the snow barefooted. She had nothing to cover her head. She was followed by a white cat, must be a stray. Peter just continues to walk.
"Mister, please buy a match, so I can have something to eat tonight". You must know that Peter liked to do the same cruel thing twice. Once the little girl approaches, he pushes her away, causing her to fall onto the pavement with her matches flying in the air. The matches dropped onto the ground, some of them fell through an opening to the sewers. The little girl desperately tried to get her matches, but most of them were damp. These matches were now useless as Mr. Roy Mustang on Rainy days. She can't go home without any money, her father will beat her so, and she is almost out of matches.
"Hey! Thank me, I just got rid of another fire hazard!" Peter keeps on walking laughing to himself, the little blue haired match girl just crouched down on the street. Her white car tries to comfort her as she cries for the loss of the matches, she won't be going home tonight, and she is hungry. Peter, however, just doesn't care, laughing all the way to his office. He finally arrives there, more despicable and less Christmassy than ever. His clerk, a scrawny blonde man with sharp angular features in baggy clothes, for he cannot afford them, was working, freezing in the dark cold room, for he only had the candle to keep him warm.
"YAGI CRACHIT!" Shouted Peter, going from his despicable mood, to his stern angry mood. "The foreclosures haven't been finished yet. Why aren't you working harder?"
"I'm trying my best Mr. Scrooge, but it's so cold, I can't possibly work like this, can I please just put-".
"You will work in these conditions or else I'll see that you are unemployed. Understood?".
"Y-Yes Mr. Scrooge". He wanted to throw coal into the fire box, but he can't, because the coal is in Peter's office, and he never touched that, instead using wood to fuel his side of the office.
"Good. Here are some more papers, now get to it, I need these by tomorrow". Peter hands Yagi the rest of the foreclosure papers. Another stack of them, but need tomorrow?
"But tomorrow is Christmas sir".
"Hmm... you're right. Better gift wrap those suckers. They would never know what's coming!" Peter says, chuckling to himself. All of a sudden the door bursts open.
"HEY THERE UNCLE SCROOGE!" The young tall man shouted happily. He had pink spiky hair. His teeth were sharp canines and his skin was tanned. He was in a comfortable coat with his brown top hat, a symbol of low status in society, and his white scarf wrapped around his neck.
"Ugh. If it isn't Natsu, my... nephew. What are you doing here?"
"What? Can't I say Merry Christmas to my favorite uncle? May God save you by the way".
"Oh, bah humbug" Peter responds, counting his money near the roaring fireplace, trying to ignore his nephew.
"Christmas a humbug uncle?" Natsu said. "You don't mean that do you?"
"You bet you pink hair ass I mean it" Peter responds. "Merry Christmas. HAH! This holiday is for the weak minded, wasting money on merriment. Wait, what gives you the right to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're as poor as an American apple wanderer".
"Come on" Natsu explained. "What gives you the right to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're as rich as... rich as...". Natsu was trying to come up with a quip, the same as his uncle.
"Ah! As rich as a Habsburg!"
"That makes no sense".
"Neither does yours uncle".
"Humbug" was his response.
"Don't be cross uncle".
"Well what the hell do you want me to be" Peter says. "When I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon merry Christmas! What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills with absolutely nothing; a time for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books and having every item in 'em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I could work my will, you know what I would do? Every frickin' idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own plum pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. That's what I would do!"
"Uncle!"
"Nephew. You can just keep your own damn Christmas to yourself and I'll keep mine".
"But you don't have any"
"And I like that way. Now leave me be, I can't stand seeing you here".
"Uncle, just think about it. This is the time to give, the time for family and friends. It's a time to think about those who are less fortunate".
"Like yourself, ya ingreat".
"That's not the point uncle. It's a happy time to open up to other people and to be merry. And even though I haven't a gold or silver coin in my pocket, it has done good for me, and for others. May God bless it". Yagi was in his corner applauding, but Peter shot stares at him which stopped him.
"Another noise from you and you can consider yourself out of work". Peter turns to Natsu. "I swear you should be in parliament".
"Don't get upset uncle. Come now, I want you to come dine with us tomorrow".
"Us?"
"Yeah! My fiancé and I"
"Oh yes, that Lucy fellow". Peter explains that he is far too busy to be attending such miscellaneous events. He would rather lock himself up in this office than go to some charade.
"Ah come on" Natsu says disappointingly. "Why?"
"Well, why the hell are you engaged?" Peter's response was.
"Well... out of love" Natsu replied.
"Love!? Now that's hilarious" Peter replied laughing. "Now get the hell out of here".
"You never come to see me Uncle".
"Good afternoon" Peter says annoyed of his nephew.
"Come on. Why can't we be friends?"
"I said, GOOD AFTERNOON!!" Peter shouts angrily.
"Very well then. I can never get you to do anything merry. But I'll be having my Christmas fun anyway uncle. So Merry Christmas Uncle Scrooge!"
"Oh, get the hell out of here".
"And a happy new year!"
"Fop off". Natsu leaves leaving the door wide open for two blonde hair men to enter his office. The man with a cowlick and square featured face walks up to his desk, and following behind was the other with thick eyebrows and green eyes.
"Scrooge and Marley's is it? said the cowlick hair man. "Do I have the honor of speaking with Mr. Marley or Mr. Scrooge?"
"Homer J Marley is dead" Peter responded melancholy. "He died seven years ago this very night".
"We have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his surviving partner," said the thick eyebrow gentleman.
"Please, all me to introduce ourselves. My name is Chad Dickson, and this is my associate Arthur Kirkland. We are from the St. Makarov Church and Organization for the Orphaned and Widowed".
"Pleasure to meet you good sir" Arthur says as he shows Peter their credentials. Peter hated charity and chooses not to give in to this trek. He hands back the credentials as he continues counting his precious money.
"At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge," Chad said, 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".
"Very greatly".
"Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir."
"Many have no food, no proper clothes, some don't even have homes to live in".
"Wait a minute, hang on" Peter said, cutting them off. "Are there no prisons?"
"Plenty of them" Chad answered sadly.
"What about those state workhouse, they're in operation aren't they?"
"Unfortunately" Arthur answered. "I wish they weren't".
"Those poor laws haven't been repealed by parliament right?"
"Still implemented" Chad answered.
"Then why the hell are you asking me for change. It sounds like they are doing great" Peter said.
"Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude," Chad said, "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. Now sir, what shall I put you down for?"
"Absolutely... nothing!"
"Oh, you wish to remain anonymous?" Arthur asks.
"I wish to be left alone!" Peter shouts angrily, going on a rant. "Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at Christmas, and I sure ain't going to help the poor be merry either. Besides, I pay my taxes, which go to the poor houses and the prisons. They should go there if they are that bad off".
"B-b-but many can't go there, and many would rather die".
"If they would rather die," said Peter, "they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides, it's not my concern".
"It should be Mr. Scrooge".
"I'm not going to interfere with their lives, especially insignificant than mine. Now good afternoon" Peter says as he pushes the two men out of the door.
"Merry Christmas. May God bless you gentlemen" Yagi shouted to them as they left.
"Shut up Crachit" Peter said as he goes back to count his money.
-End of Chapter One-