A Little Holiday Spirit (Part I) ...

It’s been far more difficult to start off this little memoir than I thought. You see, I wanted to give a go at some homage, pay the piper and all that, but I stuck myself in a bit of trouble because homage demands “literary prowess” (whatever the hell that is). In the end, though, it finally came to me—the perfect beginning.

The ghost was bored, to begin with.

It was so simple. So clear. I had gone through a few drafts (i.e., “It was the most exciting of times, it was the dullest of times” and “Whether I shall be the hero of my own memoir or whether some other git-faced spirit will take that role remains to be seen,” and simply “Hell.” I liked that last one best, but I wasn’t sure anyone would get it), but when this popped into my head, I was done. I could add nothing more.

I mean, it’s nice—not too highhanded or over-the-top or anything like that. Pure, solid homage. After all, I gotta hand credit to the book that really put me on the map, literarily speaking, I mean. Why, if it weren’t for Monsieur Dickens (that cheeky little bastard) no one would care a two-pence or a haypenny or a hey nonny-nonny for me or the other so called “spirits” that “haunt” (can you believe this insanity? Words in quotes?! Hah!) A Christmas Carol.

Ok, I guess I better back up two shakes. First off, the name’s Edward—Edward Salberry, to be precise. I know what you’re thinking, “Who the hell is Edward Salberry?” (or, if you’re a bit higher minded and moral and all that, probably like, “Who, perchance, is Edward Salberry?”). And I can’t blame you one bit. I mean, no one knows me by that name anymore. Not since Dickens anyway. Like as not, you’d recognize me as the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. But actually, just to set the record straight, that’s more of a title. It’s like knowing a knob named Bill Accain who shovels dirt at the cemetery and thinking his name was really “the Shoveller” or “the Man who Moves Dirt For Recompense” or something like that. Nice when talking with friends about a bloke, but no good if you wanna talk with the man himself. So, by all means, call me Edward. And, like I said, I am the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come … and Hannakuh Yet to Come … and Ramadan Yet to Come … and Diwali Yet to Come … and, well, let’s just say that if it’s an up-and-coming religious holiday you want haunted, I’m your spirit.

Didn’t used to be that way, though. Back in the day it was straight up Christian holidays and nothing doin’ with those heathen jobs living in their deserts and jungles and the like. Fact was, most of those pagans were already filled to the brim with kindness and charity and Christian cheer … well, in a blood-sacrifice kind of way. Mind you, I don’t recommend the cannibalism or the “human sacrifice to please Baal,” or anything like that. I’m just saying that when they weren’t chanting and chirping and gorging on their victims, they could be pretty damn civil. And did they know how to party. Wow! This one feast in Papua New Guinea before they offered up virgin triplets probably blasted the doors off any other dinner in history. Really.

But I digress.

Fact is, we’re living in an increasingly global society with political correctness and equal opportunity kicking you in the face every time you turn around. Buddy of mine once got fined half a month’s wages for failing to properly haunt this Scientologist guy into repentance and redemption and what not. Well I just have to say, bugger that. What if I got some problem haunting the man … you know, on moral grounds or something. It just ain’t right that some union can come in and make me fork out some hard earned cash because I'm not gonna do anything "repugnant to my nature" or whatever. It's a bloody mess, if you ask me.

And who do we have to thank for all that? Why, Dickens himself. I mean, he just waltzes in with his serial novels and his "realistic" characters and … well, I'll get to all that. Guess what I need to do is tell ya more about myself. I mean, sure, Dickens will play a part, but we’ll keep him in the wings more than not. Gotta head out now ... busy time of year and all that. But don't worry. More to come. More to come.

TO BE CONTINUED ...