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A Christmas Carol


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ScroogeTOP was sitting at his roll-top desk in his fortified, bunker when a timid knock was heard at the big steel bomb-proof PEACE-MODE door.

“Who is it, damn your eyes, don’t you know I’m busy?” said ScroogeTOP as he scribbled away at his accounts book.

“It is me, good sir, your loyal servant TinyTimSPARTA”

“Well, come in then, damn you, and make it quick.”

A poor, ragged figure scarred by numerous radiation burns hobbled into the room on a pathetic wooden crutch.

“Please, sir, it is almost Christmas. I wonder if I might have the day off from the wars to spend with my family, I mean the survivors of course.”

“Listen Tiny, this is a business alliance, not a charity operation. I have expenses. Do you know how much PEACE-MODE costs every day?”

“I’m terribly sorry sir. I apologize for being a bother.”

TinyTimSPARTA hobbles out again and ScroogeTOP nods off at his desk. Suddenly he is awakened by a shadowy figure.

“My god man! Are you the ghost of Christmas Past?”

“Naw, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m just an IRON espionage agent here to f*k with your DEFCON.”

ScroogeTOP trembles all over, “Oh the humanity!”

“But I see you’re still in PEACE-MODE (cough) pussy (cough) so I’ll just take some of your money and be on my way.”

ScroogeTOP looks up and sees an orange glow in the window. “Good spirit, is it dawn already?”

The IRON spy glances at the window as he rifles through ScroogeTOP’s desk drawers. “Naw, it’s just TinyTim’s house getting nuked again. Nothing to see here.”

But dawn does come at last and ScroogeTOP runs out of the bunker, a changed man. He heads straight to the crater where TinyTimSPARTA is sharing a meagre repast of tinned beans with his buddies from MI6 and that weird micro that nobody can remember the name of.

“My dear TinyTim, I have something for you! Merry Christmas!” and he hands him a parcel.

“What is it sir, nukes? money? soldiers? tech?” TinyTim’s eyes light up with anticipation as he fumbles with the wrapping paper. “A f*king goose? Are you kidding me, you lame bastard! A f*king goose?”


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