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A Nextmas Carol: One
Posted by: Jon (---.proxy.aol.com)
Date: December 12, 2002 09:01PM
<HTML>I figured that if Sarah could write a serial, so could I, and it being that time of year, herewith Part One of:
<B>A Nextmas Carol</B>
<B>1. Marley’s ghost</B>
Marley was dead. At least everybody thought he was. They’d had the funeral and everything, and where’s the point in having four hundred ham sandwiches made up if nobody’s died? Scrooge, particularly, thought he was dead. After all, he’d had him killed. Marley having refused point blank to consider a leveraged buyout of his half of the business, Scrooge had been left with no option. A quiet word with some of his associates in the olive oil import trade, and, poof, no more Marley. Let’s be completely clear about this; as far as anyone was concerned, Marley was as dead as Andrew Ridgeley’s career.
So when Jacob Marley, late of Marley & Scrooge, turned up beside Ebenezer Scrooge’s bedside one night just before Christmas, it caused that gentleman no little consternation. In truth, he wasn’t the first strange man to turn up at Scrooge’s bedside, but that had been in Morocco, and they were generally a lot younger.
“OK, what’s the scam?” Scrooge asked the apparition.
“What makes you think it’s a scam?” Marley asked, a shade reproachfully.
“Of course it’s a scam. You’re either someone pretending to be Marley, or you are Marley, and faked your own death. Either way, it’s a scam of some kind.”
“I could be a ghost.”
“Horseshit. There are no such things as ghosts.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, quite apart from the lack of empirical evidence for spirituous phenomena, I’m damn sure ghosts wouldn’t smell of Jack Daniels quite so much. It is you, isn’t it? You always were a boozy old bugger, Marley. How did you avoid Big Tony, then?”
“The ChronoGuard took me out of time a second before the bullet hit. As far as your goon was concerned, I was in the fish-dock with a slug inside me.”
“Ah, I see. And then they stuck some rotten old corpse in the dock, and once the eels had been at it we couldn’t tell if it was you or Hamlet’s father.”
“Got it in one. You always were sharp, Eb.”
“So. Two questions, Jake. One: why did the ChronoGuard do a schmuck like you this enormous favour, and two, what in hell do you want now?”
“It’s not what I want, Eb; it’s what the ChronoGuard want. And what they want is that you should be nice to people for a change. Can I sit down?”
“Sure; sit down; but tell me why they sent you here to rock the boat. Since when do the ChronoGuard care if people are nice or not?”
“They care about things that affect the timeline, Eb. And you being mean all the time is not going to produce the result they want.”
“Which is?”
“They want Bob Cratchit to have grandchildren. Specifically, one particular grandchild.”
“Where do I come in? I’m Cratchit’s boss, not his wife’s obstetrician. He can’t have kids, it’s his problem.”
“You don’t get it. He already has a child; a son called Timothy. But the kid’s disabled, and unless he gets the proper medical treatment, he’s going to snuff.”
“So? It’s one crip less. Big deal.”
Marley sighed. He’d told them this was going to be hard work.
“Look, Eb,” he said, “if Tim lives, he one day marries. He has kids, one of whom grows up to be pretty goddamn important.”
“Important to who?”
“To you, to me, to everybody. The whole fate of the world depends on that kid being born and growing up. And the way you treat Cratchit, he’s never going to be able to afford the treatment, the kid kicks it, and some years later so does everybody else. <I>Capisce</I>?”
“This end of the world business. It happens a few years from now, right?”
“Well, yeah. Some-whatever years down the line.”
“And am I likely to be alive when it happens?”
“Well, no, but – “
“But me no buts, Jake. I got no kids of my own, never likely to have, what with one thing and another, so I’m dead, and nobody of mine is going to be around. Why would I give a big fat rat’s ass what happens to the world after I’m gone?”
“So you don’t buy it, huh?”
“You’re damn right I don’t buy it, Jake. Some guy in the ChronoGuard wants me to terminate my way of life, they’re going to have to come up with better than that.”
“Terminate your way of life? Is that what you see me as, Eb, come from the future as some kind of terminator?”
“Sounds about right.” Marley nodded. He’d known this would never work.
“Well, OK, Eb, then I guess it’s plan B. Stay there. I’ll be back.”
And before Scrooge could ask what plan B was, Marley had vanished.</HTML>
<B>A Nextmas Carol</B>
<B>1. Marley’s ghost</B>
Marley was dead. At least everybody thought he was. They’d had the funeral and everything, and where’s the point in having four hundred ham sandwiches made up if nobody’s died? Scrooge, particularly, thought he was dead. After all, he’d had him killed. Marley having refused point blank to consider a leveraged buyout of his half of the business, Scrooge had been left with no option. A quiet word with some of his associates in the olive oil import trade, and, poof, no more Marley. Let’s be completely clear about this; as far as anyone was concerned, Marley was as dead as Andrew Ridgeley’s career.
So when Jacob Marley, late of Marley & Scrooge, turned up beside Ebenezer Scrooge’s bedside one night just before Christmas, it caused that gentleman no little consternation. In truth, he wasn’t the first strange man to turn up at Scrooge’s bedside, but that had been in Morocco, and they were generally a lot younger.
“OK, what’s the scam?” Scrooge asked the apparition.
“What makes you think it’s a scam?” Marley asked, a shade reproachfully.
“Of course it’s a scam. You’re either someone pretending to be Marley, or you are Marley, and faked your own death. Either way, it’s a scam of some kind.”
“I could be a ghost.”
“Horseshit. There are no such things as ghosts.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, quite apart from the lack of empirical evidence for spirituous phenomena, I’m damn sure ghosts wouldn’t smell of Jack Daniels quite so much. It is you, isn’t it? You always were a boozy old bugger, Marley. How did you avoid Big Tony, then?”
“The ChronoGuard took me out of time a second before the bullet hit. As far as your goon was concerned, I was in the fish-dock with a slug inside me.”
“Ah, I see. And then they stuck some rotten old corpse in the dock, and once the eels had been at it we couldn’t tell if it was you or Hamlet’s father.”
“Got it in one. You always were sharp, Eb.”
“So. Two questions, Jake. One: why did the ChronoGuard do a schmuck like you this enormous favour, and two, what in hell do you want now?”
“It’s not what I want, Eb; it’s what the ChronoGuard want. And what they want is that you should be nice to people for a change. Can I sit down?”
“Sure; sit down; but tell me why they sent you here to rock the boat. Since when do the ChronoGuard care if people are nice or not?”
“They care about things that affect the timeline, Eb. And you being mean all the time is not going to produce the result they want.”
“Which is?”
“They want Bob Cratchit to have grandchildren. Specifically, one particular grandchild.”
“Where do I come in? I’m Cratchit’s boss, not his wife’s obstetrician. He can’t have kids, it’s his problem.”
“You don’t get it. He already has a child; a son called Timothy. But the kid’s disabled, and unless he gets the proper medical treatment, he’s going to snuff.”
“So? It’s one crip less. Big deal.”
Marley sighed. He’d told them this was going to be hard work.
“Look, Eb,” he said, “if Tim lives, he one day marries. He has kids, one of whom grows up to be pretty goddamn important.”
“Important to who?”
“To you, to me, to everybody. The whole fate of the world depends on that kid being born and growing up. And the way you treat Cratchit, he’s never going to be able to afford the treatment, the kid kicks it, and some years later so does everybody else. <I>Capisce</I>?”
“This end of the world business. It happens a few years from now, right?”
“Well, yeah. Some-whatever years down the line.”
“And am I likely to be alive when it happens?”
“Well, no, but – “
“But me no buts, Jake. I got no kids of my own, never likely to have, what with one thing and another, so I’m dead, and nobody of mine is going to be around. Why would I give a big fat rat’s ass what happens to the world after I’m gone?”
“So you don’t buy it, huh?”
“You’re damn right I don’t buy it, Jake. Some guy in the ChronoGuard wants me to terminate my way of life, they’re going to have to come up with better than that.”
“Terminate your way of life? Is that what you see me as, Eb, come from the future as some kind of terminator?”
“Sounds about right.” Marley nodded. He’d known this would never work.
“Well, OK, Eb, then I guess it’s plan B. Stay there. I’ll be back.”
And before Scrooge could ask what plan B was, Marley had vanished.</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: One
Posted by: Sarah (---.vip.uk.com)
Date: December 12, 2002 09:07PM
<HTML>Cool - I like this!</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: One
Posted by: All-American-Cutie (---.dalect01.va.comcast.net)
Date: December 12, 2002 09:15PM
<HTML>Please Sir, May I have some more? (oops wrong story!)</HTML>
A Nextmas Carol: Two
Posted by: Jon (---.proxy.aol.com)
Date: December 12, 2002 09:54PM
<HTML><B>2. Christmas Past</B>
When Scrooge next woke up, he found Marley standing over him again, accompanied by a worried-looking man in old-fashioned dress.
“Jeez, Eb, I thought you were never going to wake up,” said Marley. “You snore like a hog in a tanyard.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Scrooge said, sitting up. “You don’t give up, huh? Who’s the fashion victim?”
“This is Nick. He works in Upstream, and he’s going to show you what Christmas was like in the past. Take it away, Nick.” And with that the scene abruptly cut to the offices of Crooke, Theefe, Berglar & Clinton, the firm where Scrooge had first learned his trade so many years ago.
“Holy @!#$,” said Scrooge. “That’s Max Damage; he was the finest corporate lawyer ever, and he’s been dead these thirty years. Taught me everything I know. Who’s he talking to?”
“Gabby Li Belle,” Nick told him.
“Well, I’ll be damned. She screwed as many guys as she screwed clients, and ended up married to DeLaste Trump, the divorce tycoon. What are they saying?”
“I’ll turn the volume up,” said Nick ….
“ … so I said, screw you, McCarthy, if it makes a profit, it can’t be un-American.”
“Gee, Max, you say the wildest things. If I haven’t screwed you yet, remind me to fit you in.” There was a pause, and then Gabby went on. “Say, Max, what do you think of that new guy Scrooge?”
“Eb? He is one tight @!#$. He’s so mean, he wouldn’t spend Christmas without claiming it back from the IRS.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty grim, all right. He wouldn’t even let me put out for him. Listen, Max, why I ask is, I’m having a little shindig this Christmas, kind of an orgy type of thing, you know, and I don’t want him to know about it. He strikes me as a party pooper.”
“That’s his style, sure enough. Who else is coming …. besides you and me, that is?”
“Oh, pretty much everybody. All the partners, and most everyone on the floor.”
“Bill?”
“Oh, yeah. I got cigars in special.”
“So everybody knows except Eb, is that it?”
“Yep. That’s it.”
“Well, I won’t tell him if you won’t ….” At these words the scene faded, leaving Scrooge back in his familiar four-poster bed, with purple satin sheets and matching handcuffs.
“So?” asked Scrooge.
“What do you mean, so?” Marley cried, aghast at his former partner’s hard-heartedness. “These people were supposed to be your friends, they smiled to your face for fifteen years, and all the time they were keeping stuff like that from you, and dissing you behind your back! Doesn’t that say something to you, Eb?”
“Yeah, it says they were lawyers. I never thought they were friends, Jake; I thought they were fish with big teeth, you know what I mean? I treated them just the same way, and here I am, sole partner, and where the hell are they, will you tell me that? Jeez, Jake, you were in the game yourself; how many times did you screw Gabby LiBelle?”
“Er, I dunno, maybe a dozen times?”
“And did she treat you any better as a consequence? Did she hell. So I should be all boo-hoo because she didn’t let me go to her Christmas orgy? I don’t think so: if I remember correctly, I spent that Christmas in Marrakesh, and believe you me I missed out on nothing.”
“Have you no conscience at all, Eb?”
“I’m a lawyer, Jake. A very rich and successful one. What do you think? And if all this bushwah is supposed to get me to change my ways and be a good little boy for Christmas, boy, are you at the wrong address. Go home, and let me sleep, for crysake.” Marley sighed.
“Come on, Nick,” he said to his companion. “Back to the drawing board.”</HTML>
When Scrooge next woke up, he found Marley standing over him again, accompanied by a worried-looking man in old-fashioned dress.
“Jeez, Eb, I thought you were never going to wake up,” said Marley. “You snore like a hog in a tanyard.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Scrooge said, sitting up. “You don’t give up, huh? Who’s the fashion victim?”
“This is Nick. He works in Upstream, and he’s going to show you what Christmas was like in the past. Take it away, Nick.” And with that the scene abruptly cut to the offices of Crooke, Theefe, Berglar & Clinton, the firm where Scrooge had first learned his trade so many years ago.
“Holy @!#$,” said Scrooge. “That’s Max Damage; he was the finest corporate lawyer ever, and he’s been dead these thirty years. Taught me everything I know. Who’s he talking to?”
“Gabby Li Belle,” Nick told him.
“Well, I’ll be damned. She screwed as many guys as she screwed clients, and ended up married to DeLaste Trump, the divorce tycoon. What are they saying?”
“I’ll turn the volume up,” said Nick ….
“ … so I said, screw you, McCarthy, if it makes a profit, it can’t be un-American.”
“Gee, Max, you say the wildest things. If I haven’t screwed you yet, remind me to fit you in.” There was a pause, and then Gabby went on. “Say, Max, what do you think of that new guy Scrooge?”
“Eb? He is one tight @!#$. He’s so mean, he wouldn’t spend Christmas without claiming it back from the IRS.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty grim, all right. He wouldn’t even let me put out for him. Listen, Max, why I ask is, I’m having a little shindig this Christmas, kind of an orgy type of thing, you know, and I don’t want him to know about it. He strikes me as a party pooper.”
“That’s his style, sure enough. Who else is coming …. besides you and me, that is?”
“Oh, pretty much everybody. All the partners, and most everyone on the floor.”
“Bill?”
“Oh, yeah. I got cigars in special.”
“So everybody knows except Eb, is that it?”
“Yep. That’s it.”
“Well, I won’t tell him if you won’t ….” At these words the scene faded, leaving Scrooge back in his familiar four-poster bed, with purple satin sheets and matching handcuffs.
“So?” asked Scrooge.
“What do you mean, so?” Marley cried, aghast at his former partner’s hard-heartedness. “These people were supposed to be your friends, they smiled to your face for fifteen years, and all the time they were keeping stuff like that from you, and dissing you behind your back! Doesn’t that say something to you, Eb?”
“Yeah, it says they were lawyers. I never thought they were friends, Jake; I thought they were fish with big teeth, you know what I mean? I treated them just the same way, and here I am, sole partner, and where the hell are they, will you tell me that? Jeez, Jake, you were in the game yourself; how many times did you screw Gabby LiBelle?”
“Er, I dunno, maybe a dozen times?”
“And did she treat you any better as a consequence? Did she hell. So I should be all boo-hoo because she didn’t let me go to her Christmas orgy? I don’t think so: if I remember correctly, I spent that Christmas in Marrakesh, and believe you me I missed out on nothing.”
“Have you no conscience at all, Eb?”
“I’m a lawyer, Jake. A very rich and successful one. What do you think? And if all this bushwah is supposed to get me to change my ways and be a good little boy for Christmas, boy, are you at the wrong address. Go home, and let me sleep, for crysake.” Marley sighed.
“Come on, Nick,” he said to his companion. “Back to the drawing board.”</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Two
Posted by: All-American-Cutie (---.dalect01.va.comcast.net)
Date: December 12, 2002 10:08PM
<HTML>He was the best of lawyers, he was the worst of men, it was the age of the @!#$, it was the age of the crank, it was the epoch of disbelief, it was the epoch of miserliness, it was supposed to be the season of Light, yet it was the season of Darkness, it was not yet the spring of hope, but it was the winter of despair, Scrooge had everything before him, Tiny Tim had nothing before him, he was going direct to Heaven, Scrooge was going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
(ehem, I seem to be getting confused...perhaps I need some of those Ffrog pills. Maybe it'll help me with my 'periods')</HTML>
(ehem, I seem to be getting confused...perhaps I need some of those Ffrog pills. Maybe it'll help me with my 'periods')</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Two
Posted by: Sarah (---.vip.uk.com)
Date: December 12, 2002 10:09PM
<HTML>Ffrog pills on their way by matter transporter... let me know if they arrive safely!</HTML>
A Nextmas Carol: Three
Posted by: Jon (---.abel.net.uk)
Date: December 13, 2002 02:49PM
<HTML><B>3. Christmas Present</B>
“Wake up, Eb, will you?”
“Oh, not again. Don’t you ever give up? What is it this time?”
“We have a Christmas present for you, Scrooge.”
Scrooge sat up. With Marley was a grim looking gentleman with a mouth like a rat trap.
“What sort of present?”
“Like I said, Eb, a Christmas present; the present of Christmas, if you like.”
Scrooge scowled.
“Don’t play silly games with me, Jake. I can always call Big Tony again, you know.”
“No game, Eb. Alf here is going to show you what Christmas is like in the present. OK, Alf, do your stuff.” There was a very snazzy slow dissolve, and Scrooge found himself looking at Bob Cratchit, working in Scrooge’s own firm. The door opened, and Scrooge himself walked in.
“How come I’m there?” Scrooge asked Marley; “I can’t be there and here at the same time, surely?”
“Quantum,” replied Marley. “So long as you never know where you are and when you are at the same time, you can be anywhere.” And that was all the explanation Scrooge got. Meanwhile Cratchit was talking.
“But, boss,” he was saying, “it’s Christmas Eve!”
“Christmas Schmistmas,” replied the other Scrooge. “You stay here until the Ryder case has been written up in full. There’s a lot of money involved.”
“But Boss, my family – “
“You wanted to spend time with your family, you should of took a union job. You want to be a lawyer, Cratchit, you stay here and graft.” He stopped, and looked suspiciously at a bag of sweets on Cratchit’s desk. “Didn’t I ban candy from the office, Cratchit?” He picked the bag up, and looked inside it. “And I especially bar humbugs. Lose them, Cratchit.”
“Yes, boss. Sorry, boss.”
Alf muttered something to Marley at this point, and there was another dissolve, and a new scene presented itself to view, that of a room in a house.
“This,” said Marley, “is Bob’s house, eight hours later.”
The door to the room opened, and Bob Cratchit entered, followed by a shrewish looking woman in an apron.
“Where in hell have you been?”, she was asking.
“I told you, working,” Bob replied, with a touch of asperity.
“You expect me to believe that? I reckon you’ve got a floozy somewhere, Bob Cratchit, and if I ever find out you have …”
“Dammit, how many times do I have to tell you? There is no other woman! Jeez, I haven’t got time to commit adultery, when I’m working all the hours for that bastard Scrooge!” Mrs. Cratchit sniffed.
“I don’t believe even a tightwad like Ebenezer Scrooge would make a guy work late on Christmas Eve,” she observed, tartly.
“Yeah, yeah, yadda yadda, whatever. Get me a drink, will you? Where are the kids?”
“Upstairs. You want to see them?”
“Like hell I do. I have a headache like you wouldn’t believe. Just get me a whiskey.”
Mrs. Cratchit sniffed again.
“You can just get your own, Bob Cratchit. I got better things to do than wait on you.” And with that she flounced out, leaving Bob to pour his own whiskey. He raised the glass in an ironical toast.
“To that slave-driving, marriage-wrecking old bastard Ebenezer Scrooge,” he said, “the Founder of the Feast. May he rot in hell.”
And the image dissolved once more, leaving the observers back in Scrooge’s bedroom.
“Well, there you have it,” Marley said, turning to his old partner. “Thanks to you making him work all the time, Bob’s marriage breaks down, he falls behind with the alimony when he takes up with a stripper from Spokane, his ex never has enough money to pay for Tim’s healthcare, the kid dies, has no children, nobody saves the world, everybody else dies. Feel guilty yet?”
“Why would I feel guilty? If he wanted to skive for a living, he should have been a teacher. And why would I be nice to some guy who hates me that much? Give me a break, guys, and don’t waste your time or mine.”
Marley shrugged.
“Well, I told them it would come to this,” he remarked resignedly; “hit it, Alf, I got to go and break out the real heavy weapons.”
Scrooge’s only answer was a snore.</HTML>
“Wake up, Eb, will you?”
“Oh, not again. Don’t you ever give up? What is it this time?”
“We have a Christmas present for you, Scrooge.”
Scrooge sat up. With Marley was a grim looking gentleman with a mouth like a rat trap.
“What sort of present?”
“Like I said, Eb, a Christmas present; the present of Christmas, if you like.”
Scrooge scowled.
“Don’t play silly games with me, Jake. I can always call Big Tony again, you know.”
“No game, Eb. Alf here is going to show you what Christmas is like in the present. OK, Alf, do your stuff.” There was a very snazzy slow dissolve, and Scrooge found himself looking at Bob Cratchit, working in Scrooge’s own firm. The door opened, and Scrooge himself walked in.
“How come I’m there?” Scrooge asked Marley; “I can’t be there and here at the same time, surely?”
“Quantum,” replied Marley. “So long as you never know where you are and when you are at the same time, you can be anywhere.” And that was all the explanation Scrooge got. Meanwhile Cratchit was talking.
“But, boss,” he was saying, “it’s Christmas Eve!”
“Christmas Schmistmas,” replied the other Scrooge. “You stay here until the Ryder case has been written up in full. There’s a lot of money involved.”
“But Boss, my family – “
“You wanted to spend time with your family, you should of took a union job. You want to be a lawyer, Cratchit, you stay here and graft.” He stopped, and looked suspiciously at a bag of sweets on Cratchit’s desk. “Didn’t I ban candy from the office, Cratchit?” He picked the bag up, and looked inside it. “And I especially bar humbugs. Lose them, Cratchit.”
“Yes, boss. Sorry, boss.”
Alf muttered something to Marley at this point, and there was another dissolve, and a new scene presented itself to view, that of a room in a house.
“This,” said Marley, “is Bob’s house, eight hours later.”
The door to the room opened, and Bob Cratchit entered, followed by a shrewish looking woman in an apron.
“Where in hell have you been?”, she was asking.
“I told you, working,” Bob replied, with a touch of asperity.
“You expect me to believe that? I reckon you’ve got a floozy somewhere, Bob Cratchit, and if I ever find out you have …”
“Dammit, how many times do I have to tell you? There is no other woman! Jeez, I haven’t got time to commit adultery, when I’m working all the hours for that bastard Scrooge!” Mrs. Cratchit sniffed.
“I don’t believe even a tightwad like Ebenezer Scrooge would make a guy work late on Christmas Eve,” she observed, tartly.
“Yeah, yeah, yadda yadda, whatever. Get me a drink, will you? Where are the kids?”
“Upstairs. You want to see them?”
“Like hell I do. I have a headache like you wouldn’t believe. Just get me a whiskey.”
Mrs. Cratchit sniffed again.
“You can just get your own, Bob Cratchit. I got better things to do than wait on you.” And with that she flounced out, leaving Bob to pour his own whiskey. He raised the glass in an ironical toast.
“To that slave-driving, marriage-wrecking old bastard Ebenezer Scrooge,” he said, “the Founder of the Feast. May he rot in hell.”
And the image dissolved once more, leaving the observers back in Scrooge’s bedroom.
“Well, there you have it,” Marley said, turning to his old partner. “Thanks to you making him work all the time, Bob’s marriage breaks down, he falls behind with the alimony when he takes up with a stripper from Spokane, his ex never has enough money to pay for Tim’s healthcare, the kid dies, has no children, nobody saves the world, everybody else dies. Feel guilty yet?”
“Why would I feel guilty? If he wanted to skive for a living, he should have been a teacher. And why would I be nice to some guy who hates me that much? Give me a break, guys, and don’t waste your time or mine.”
Marley shrugged.
“Well, I told them it would come to this,” he remarked resignedly; “hit it, Alf, I got to go and break out the real heavy weapons.”
Scrooge’s only answer was a snore.</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Three
Posted by: All-American-Cutie (---.dalect01.va.comcast.net)
Date: December 13, 2002 05:26PM
<HTML>(You've been looking at my webpage again, haven't you! Spokane, Indeed!)</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Three
Posted by: All-American-Cutie (---.dalect01.va.comcast.net)
Date: December 13, 2002 05:28PM
<HTML>(and it was only that one time, on the tricycle...okay, there were a few other times, too, but they weren't photo-documented to the best of my knowledge!) <i>cheeky monkey!</i></HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Three
Posted by: Jon (---.proxy.aol.com)
Date: December 13, 2002 08:05PM
<HTML>um, would you believe Spokane was a coincidence? I just liked the sound of the name. Ooh, shake that entroposcope there.</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Three
Posted by: All-American-Cutie (---.dalect01.va.comcast.net)
Date: December 13, 2002 08:19PM
<HTML>oh crap, my lentils are all in a line!</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Three
Posted by: All-American-Cutie (---.dalect01.va.comcast.net)
Date: December 13, 2002 08:20PM
<HTML>but here's the question...do you actually know how to correctly pronounce "Spokane"??</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Three
Posted by: Jon (---.proxy.aol.com)
Date: December 13, 2002 08:24PM
<HTML>Aagh, where's that Bill Bryson book that tells you these things?
Er ... thanks to above work by Mr. Bryson I have some idea how these things work, so I'd go for Spock-ann. How's that?</HTML>
Er ... thanks to above work by Mr. Bryson I have some idea how these things work, so I'd go for Spock-ann. How's that?</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Three
Posted by: All-American-Cutie (---.dalect01.va.comcast.net)
Date: December 13, 2002 08:51PM
<HTML>er uh, NO
Spokane is not a bastard child of Mr. Spock and Raggedy Ann [LOL!]
But you were closer than most people, including most Americans who say it "Spoe - cane" it's really "Spoe - Cann" (Not 'cahn' like you would say it in England, but more closed throat)
So, that's Spo (like 'toe') Kane (like 'can')
Just FYI, Spokane, Washington is a medium sized city located near the borders of Washington State and Idaho. It is about an hour or so south of the Canadian border. It is also located about 5 hours from Seattle. Spokane is located on the edge of an arid desert on the Eastern side of the Cascade mountains. It does snow and rain quite frequently, but only in the winter when it's quite cold. During the summer, it is very hot, dry and prone to wildfire and drought.
Seattle, on the other hand, is located on the coast and it is wet and temperate all year round. It does get the occasional snow, however. But they don't know how to drive in it! So please, don't confuse the two cities. It drives Spokanites insane and you will get a lengthy diatribe just like this one.
Oh, and Spokane is named for a Native American tribe nearby. It's a very beautiful city. And it was home to the 1974 World's Fair.
Got it? Good!</HTML>
Spokane is not a bastard child of Mr. Spock and Raggedy Ann [LOL!]
But you were closer than most people, including most Americans who say it "Spoe - cane" it's really "Spoe - Cann" (Not 'cahn' like you would say it in England, but more closed throat)
So, that's Spo (like 'toe') Kane (like 'can')
Just FYI, Spokane, Washington is a medium sized city located near the borders of Washington State and Idaho. It is about an hour or so south of the Canadian border. It is also located about 5 hours from Seattle. Spokane is located on the edge of an arid desert on the Eastern side of the Cascade mountains. It does snow and rain quite frequently, but only in the winter when it's quite cold. During the summer, it is very hot, dry and prone to wildfire and drought.
Seattle, on the other hand, is located on the coast and it is wet and temperate all year round. It does get the occasional snow, however. But they don't know how to drive in it! So please, don't confuse the two cities. It drives Spokanites insane and you will get a lengthy diatribe just like this one.
Oh, and Spokane is named for a Native American tribe nearby. It's a very beautiful city. And it was home to the 1974 World's Fair.
Got it? Good!</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Three
Posted by: Jon (---.proxy.aol.com)
Date: December 13, 2002 08:58PM
<HTML>Oh, I never say cahn. Up here in t'north we keep our vowels short. My wife makes me giggle by (among other things) saying bahthrum and tuthbrush. Her home town is about 5 hours away, but in English terms that's a loooong way away. They do be speakin funny down there.</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Three
Posted by: Sarah (---.vip.uk.com)
Date: December 13, 2002 09:08PM
<HTML>Warning: despite being from further north than you (born in the Lake District, in fact), I don't have a northern accent. So I will probably also make you giggle. :-)</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Three
Posted by: Jon (---.proxy.aol.com)
Date: December 13, 2002 09:15PM
<HTML>Well, I figured that anyway. About the accent, I mean. You couldn't be a QPR fan and have a northern accent. (Mind you last time I was at Loftus Road I didn't have a northern accent either..."baht harf-parst for, mite!")</HTML>
Re: A Nextmas Carol: Three
Posted by: Magda (---.dialip.mich.net)
Date: December 15, 2002 04:19PM
<HTML>Twila, I can say with certainty that there is at least one person in Seattle who knows how to drive in snow. That would be my brother, who grew up in Michigan.
Jon - you are entertaining as always.</HTML>
Jon - you are entertaining as always.</HTML>
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