And so now we come it at last, Dear Reader. Ebenezer Gaknar has been afforded a chance almost no one ever receives, but what will he do with that chance? Yes, he still has his visit with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, and that may sway him one way or the other—just as it did with another Ebenezer back in the Victorian period. But this Ebenezer is not necessarily like that one. He may well not be moved at all. I have never witnessed anything in his character that would suggest such base sentimentality would cause him even the slightest pause. A scoff is as likely as a tear. He may have been wrong in his past, but he has never been in doubt! So what say you, Dear Reader? For you know him as well as I. If you take the Blue Pill, the story runs its course very much as one might expect. But if you take the Red Pill, I’ll show you how deep his black soul really goes. The choice is yours, but remember: If you try to swallow both pills Google Chrome will crash and ask you to kill pages—whatever that means.
The Blue Pill
Gaknar inched closer to the hideous purple beast. It’s vacuous stare was as unrelenting as it was unintelligent. Few things had caused fear to spring forth in the heart of Gaknar prior to this night, but certainly Willie was on the list. His only choice was to beg for mercy from a mute manikin, like yet another bad Gameday promo.
Gak: Oh, Spirit! You vile, vile thing, you. You, Spirit, I fear more than any specter or ghoul I have seen on this accursed night. Still, quaking in my nighty UGGs though I am, I know that I am too old and grizzled to change! Save your worthy lesson for some younger, more promising creature, and let me return home to bed, hmmm?
Willie: [No Answer]
Gak: No? Well, then. Lead on, Spirit. Show me what you must.
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come had the power to spin the clock forward, just as Hermus could run time itself in reverse. The first scene stopped sometime in the near future, as the familiar faces did not seem to show any signs of aging from the present day. The two figures now stood once again inside the Threadkiller home, but a much more melancholy mood has replaced the joyous one we had seen before.
Mrs.: Have you seen the place where he will rest, my dear?
TK: Oh, yes, my dear. I wish you could’ve seen it! It’s very quiet and still. Then again, I know you’ll see it often. I felt very peaceful there, as his awful cursing could not be heard anymore. But I will miss him, of course. As will we all. The inventive spellings, the fireable stories, the jokes that sailed directly over his head. Where will we all be without Roy? [Begins weeping] Oh, Roy! My poor, poor Rancid Roy!
Mrs.: There, there, my love! We knew he’d be ban hammered one day, if he couldn’t take the hint. And he never could, you know. We’ll always love him, in our hearts, and from a distance. Perhaps it’s better this way. Out there, beyond the reach of the ban hammer, maybe he’ll find a place to call home! I’ve heard of this place called Tigerboard, you know. Our Roy might really fancy it indeed! You can say whatever you want there, they say, and someone is always more stupid than you. And our Roy was never stupid; he just lacked the ability to stop himself when he certainly should have. Maybe he’ll find his way to this Tigerboard, and maybe he will finally be at peace!
Gak: Oh, Spirit! I’m too late! I’m too late, Spirit! I could’ve helped that poor, misguided rabbit hunter, but they’ve turned him out now. Tigerboard is not what they think it is, Spirit—Falcons05 told me so himself! Roy will find no rest there. Oh, take me from this place of misery, you heartless cad!
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come did indeed heed Gaknar’s request, but very soon he came to realize that his agony had just begun. He now stands inside a tavern filled with Rock M local personalities. This is the scene of a Kansas City meet up. He should most certainly be there! But he is not.
Mrs. BGTD: I thought they’d never ban him. He wore me out so many different times. Why did he want to be the Texas AD, anyway; I thought he hated Texas. It was so confusing to me.
BGTD: I choose to look at it in completely the opposite way.
Mrs. BGTD: Of course you do. He reminds me of one of my uncles..
BGTD: Oh, here we go. So, anyway, will Mizzou win its third SEC championship this year?
2396: Define "win." Define "its." Define "third." Define "SEC." Define "Champ.."
Gak: Spirit, why am I not here? I should be right there, in my usual spot, drinking a Boulevard Wheat, but I’m not. I’m Not!
Willie: [No Answer]
Gak: [Gasps] Have I been ban hammered in this future? Oh, no, Spirit. No! That is not fair! All the crap I have been forced to read over the years, and I get the hammer?! No, Spirit! No. Say something, you useless bobble head!
Willie: [No Answer]
Gak: Why show me all of this, if I am past all hope! A-ha! I know a man’s ways dictate certain ends. But if his ways be departed from, then surely the ends must change as well! Tell me this is true with what you show me!
Willie: [No Answer]
Gak: Oh, how dare you judge me?! You stood beside Ecokat! Sorry, sorry! Cheap shot. My bad. I take it back. I’m desperate here. Hear me, Spirit: I am not the man I was! I am not the man I was! I am not the man I was!
The scene returns to Gaknar’s bedroom chambers and he finds himself again sitting upon his bed. His bed curtains are drawn open, and it is the morning of the next day. Christmas Day!
Gak: I am not the man I was! I am not the man I was! I..Wa.. Wait! I’m back! I’m not banned! Falcons05, BST, and Christmastime be praised! [Runs to the window and throws it open.] Ahh. Crisp. Cold. Good Missouri winter air to make the blood dance! [A young boy is walking by on the street below.] You, there, my good lad!
Gak: Do you know the Imo’s over on the next street but one?
Boy: O’course I do.
Gak: Of course, of course you do! Listen, go and buy two of the biggest pizzas for me, and bring them here as quickly as possible!
Boy: Forget it, you lazy bum! No one likes you! Besides, why should I talk to you, you creepy old man?
Gak: I know, I know. But I’m working to change all that. Take your father with you, my good boy. I am 100% on the level. Do not return here without your guardian, as you must always make this your habit! Come back in twenty minutes and I’ll give you $5. Come back in ten, and I’ll give you $10. [He runs off excitedly.] I’ll send it to Bob Threadkiller’s house. Ha! He won’t know where it’s from Haha! What, you’re back already?
Boy: O’couse I am, Gov’ner! There was no line there. The pizza man was shocked to have any customers at all. You may be his first sale this December!
Gak: I don’t doubt that! Now, if you want to double your money, take those Imo’s pizzas to Lamar and give them to Bob Threadkiller, but don’t say one word about where you got them. You, Sir, can you drive your son to Lamar? I’ll spring for a full tank of gas and a Rooster Booster from QT. Deal? Be off with you now, and a Merry Christmas!
Old Gaknar was better than his word. He became the best poster on Rock M, or on any other blog for that matter. When the Masthead was expanded to 250 people, he was the first person selected—but he turned them down flat. Being a daily contributor was enough for him. And to Rancid Roy, who was never banned, he became a mentor and a second father. He gladly sprang from the jaw rebuild, and Roy dropped his old nickname forever. Gaknar was a good dude. Let that be said of us, and all of us! And so, as [The artist formerly known as Rancid] Roy observed: God bless us, everyone!
The Red Pill
Gaknar clubbed Willie in the head. He did not get up again. What’s more, he got to work extra early the next morning. Poor Bob came in fifteen minutes late, and Gaknar fired him immediately and with great joy. He even repo’d the comforter Bob kept around his waist for warmth. The Threadkillers soon lost their house. Bob was sent off to a debtors prison, the four healthy children were divided among far flung relatives, and each lived a life without joy of any kind. Mrs. Threadkiller went to work at Sams Club. And as for Rancid Roy, well, he was ban hammered forever the very next day. After appearing on the Paul Finebaum Show and reciting the entire Karma Thread from 2012, each and every FBR account was permanently discontinued. Eventually his sling gave up the ghost entirely and he lost his jaw somewhere near Carthage. Gaknar became even worse with each passing day. He even conned the Stubble Drive out of its entire fund. Not even the stubble itself remained. And so, as Rancid Roy Observed: God bless us, all but him!
Well said, Roy. God bless us, all but him!
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