Ok, everyone ready to look into Scrooge's future? ;)

Mike: As long as it ain't too freaky, yeah.

Micky: Yeah! ;)

Peter: I hope it's not spooky! It might scare the kids in the audience! :o

Davy: It'll be ok, Petah. This is cultuah. ;)

Peter: Oh.

(Mike runs back onstage as the lights in the house flash and the audience returns. The streetlight returns and the fog rolls as the lights dim. Mike is in the same spot as he was when the second act ended, still calling for the spirit.)

Mike: Spirit! Spirit, don't go! Don't leave me lost in some unknown place and time! :o

*The church bell strikes twelve. After the twelfth strike, a black-cloaked figure walks steadily towards Mike.*

Mike: (Gulps) Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?

*The figure stops, a few steps from Mike, and nods once.*

Mike: You're going to show me my future, right?

*Again, the figure nods once.*

Mike: Ghost of the Future, I fear you more than any spirit I've seen, but...(quietly) I'm not the man I was. As I know your purpose is to do me good, I'm prepared to bear your company with a thankful heart. (Pause; then frowns, a little worried) Will you not speak to me, Spirit?

*The figure does not respond, but rather points ahead of them.*

Mike: (Shrugs) Ok, Ghost, lead on. You know where we're going.

*The figure moves away as it had come towards Mike. He followed behind the figure.*

(The ghost leads them behind the curtain as it opens and the fog continues to roll...rather thickly. It reveals the London Square set again, but there are few people busling around the square, and the effect is dark and gloomy rather than vibrant and fun. Four men - the Four Martians - stand together stage right; the spotlight falls on them. Mike and the silent Ghost stand on the other side, as close to them as Mike dares.)

John: No, I don't know much about it either way. I only know he's dead.

Chris: When did he die?

John: Last night, I believe.

Marcus: Why, what was wrong with him? I thought he'd NEVER die!

John: God knows. (Yawns)

Danny: What has he done with his money?

John: I have no idea. Left it to his company, likely. I only know he hasn't left it to ME. ;)

(The four men laugh.)

Marcus: It's likely to be a cheap funeral. I don't know anyone who'll go to it.

Chris: I'll go, if lunch is provided, but I must be fed if I do! ;)

John: I'll offer to go, if no one else will. We used to be quite a pair in our younger years, Scrooge and me. I wonder if I still wasn't something of a friend. We used to stop and speak whenever we passed each other. (Nods) Must be getting along. I have some work that needs to be done.

Marcus: As do I. Ta-ta!

Chris: Ta-ta? Where the heck did you get...

(Danny nudges him as the four men walk off-stage, and the spotlight returns to Mike and the Ghost.)

Mike: What was all that about, Spirit? I know those men! Know them well! They're business associates! And where am I? I'm always here at this hour! Of whom did they speak of? Marley's death is in the past.

*The Ghost merely moves onto another street.*

(It is a filthy, nasty area, darker and dirtier than the London set we saw before. A dark, dim, dirty room rolls out. Nyles, wearing a gray wig and mustache and dirty rags, sits behind a grate, counting piles of dirty, broken antiques. Daphne, Maxine, and Davy walk out. Davy looks as forbidding as he can make himself in all black; the girls all wear ragged gowns and dirty faces. All three carry bundles.)

Micky: *once again steps out stage right; he has an odd look on his face* Now, even I have to admit, this part is really creepy, so just pay close attention and I'll be back when things aren't so gloomy. :P ;)

Mike: (Mutters in Mick's ear as he steps offstage) Chicken. :p

*Micky makes a hand gesture that can only be seen by Mike, and maybe Jack if the hood wasn't hiding it.* ;)

(Mike glares at Micky but can do nothing at present, so he turns back to the guttersnipes in the shop.)

Mike: Do we HAVE to be here? This is not the loveliest part of town. :p

Nyles: What do ya got for old Joe, huh? What do you got for me to remember him by?

Maxine: (Attempts a very bad Cockney over her obvious New York accent) I got 'is blankets and sheets, I did!

Davy: (Makes a face at Maxine's bad accent) I got 'is cufflinks. Very fine mother-of-pearl, they are!

(Both hand their ill-gotten gains to Nyles, who inspects them.)

Nyles: *nods* Hmm. Not too shabby. *eyes widen at the warmth of the blankets and sheets* These're still warm?

Maxine: You'd bettah believe it! They're the only warmth 'e evah 'ad, the old skinflint! ;)

(Mike flinches noticeably. :p)

Davy: (Nudges Maxine) 'Ey, Maxie, go easy on the accent, will ya? :p

Nyles: *holds one of the cufflinks up to the light* VERY nice!

Davy: Best things 'e 'ad, and too good to waste on the likes 'o 'im! :p ;)

Daphne: (Pushes between Davy and Maxine with her bundle) Open mine next, Joe! :D

Nyles: *grins and opens the bundle* Now what have we here?

(Mike's eyes are wide as he watches the scene in horror. :o )

Daphne: (As Nyles opens a bundle containing what looks like the curtains from Scrooge's bed, complete with their rings) Bed curtains! Very nice damask, they are! :D

Mike: (Mutters) Cheapest on the market. You'd think she'd know that. :p

Daphne: I tore them down, rings and all, I did! :D

Nyles: *shakes his head* These're cheap, but they are worth some coin, if for the rings alone. ;)

Davy: Wot about me shah?

Maxine: And mine! Them blankets gotta be worth somethin', wit' the warmth and all!

Nyles: The cufflinks will get you several pounds. The blanks, with or without warmth, will also get some pounds.

Maxine: Well, just make sure we do get it, Joe!

Nyles: You'll get it, don't you worry.

Davy: I just 'ope 'e didn't die of anythin' catchin'.

Nyles: *quirks an eyebrow* Maybe, maybe not.

Daphne: You really think I was so fond of the old misah's company that I'd spend time loiterin' about 'is bedchambahs? (Pulls out a few shirts) I even pulled the shirt they were going to bury 'im in! They would 'ave let good material perish it if it weren't for me! ;)

Mike: (Mutters) Ghost, I think I'm gonna be sick. How about you? :p

*The Ghost does not respond.*

Maxine: 'E drove people away while 'e was alive, for us to profit from 'im when 'e was dead! ;)

Nyles: A slight profit... ;)

(The four launch into a revised version of "And We Won't Be Happy 'Till We Get It" from "Babes In Toyland," the lyrics somewhat taken from the Disney version, discussing the group's greed and desire for money and, well, in general, how bad and nasty they are. The lights start to fade out and the room rolls away as the group laughs maniacally and counts their money.)

Mike: (Returns to the Ghost) Oh Spirit, please show me some tenderness connected with a death, or that terrible scene will haunt me forever! :o

*The Ghost motions to the window, for Mike to look out. The night sky shows the reflection of a lit fireplace in the glass.*

(When Mike goes to the window, we find that the Cratchit house set has rolled back on. Valerie and Jenny are darning clothing, Little Peter reads a book, and the twins play with rag dolls. The spirit of gloominess, however, is found even here; the set is a bit darker than before, and the children - even the twins - are quiet.)

Mike: It's awfully quiet, Spirit. (Turns to the Spirit) Why is it so quiet?

*The Ghost does not respond.*

(The camera cuts back to the group in the room. Valerie dabs at her eyes; a sob occasionally escapes her lips. Jenny puts her arms around her comfortingly.)

Jenny: Mother... :)

Valerie: (Shakes her head) It's just this dim light, Martha. It hurts my eyes. (Smiles) Maybe it's time we put the sewing away. Your papa should be home soon, and I wouldn't want to show weak eyes to him for the world. :)

Jenny: *smiles for her mother* Yes. I think he's walked a little slower these last few evenings.

Little Peter: (Looks up from his book) He used to walk so much faster with...(quieter) with Tiny Tim on his shoulder. :(

Mike: (Eyes widen) Tim? Oh, no! :(

*Again, the Ghost makes no attempt to respond.*

Valerie: (Gulps and goes on) Tim was so light to carry, and your father loved him so, that it was no trouble at all. (As Peter, dressed the same but looking sadder and a bit more stooped, passes Mike and goes in) And there is your father now.

Peter: (As the others go to him and embrace him, he gives the children a small smile) Hello, my darlings.

Little Peter: Oh Papa, it'll be all right!

Peter: (Ruffles the boy's hair) Yes, it will, won't it? We're all still together. (Nods towards the fire) You and your sisters and brother go prepare for dinner. We'll be there in a minute.

Little Peter: Yes, Papa. (He, Jenny, and the twins walk sadly offstage)

Peter: (Turns to Valerie, sniffling and gulping; it's obvious he's been crying, too) You should have come with me today, Emily. It would have done you good to see how green the place is. It's in his favorite spot by the river. Tim... (his voice falters here, and his eyes fill with tears)

Valerie: ..He used to love looking at the ducks by the river. :(

Peter: I promised we'd come there and visit him on Sundays. Oh, Emily... (He finally bursts into tears on her shoulder; she holds him tightly to her) My little child! My little, little child! :((

Valerie: (Sobbing softly herself) There there, Robert. There, there.

(The other four children come back in, all looking sad. The twins go up to Peter and Valerie and tug on their jacket and dress.)

Little Peter: Mama, Papa...

Little Mick: Daddy, Mommy sad. :(

Shelly: Don't like sad. :( :P

Peter: (Wipes his eyes and smiles as he picks up the twins) No, I don't like sad either, Belinda. (Looks at Peter) You know, I saw Master Fred on the way home today. He stopped me and told me I was looking just a little down, and I told him about Tim. He said he was heartily sorry for it, and for my good wife. (Peter grins a little) Now, I wonder how he knew that? (Frowns) And you know, he seemed a bit familiar. I know I've heard his voice elsewhere...

Valerie: Knew what?

Peter: (Returns to a slight grin) That you were a good wife. ;)

Little Peter: (Proudly) Everyone knows THAT! ;)

Little Mick: Mommy great! :D ;)

Shelly: Daddy great! :D

Peter: (As everyone laughs and Valerie blushes) He asked if he could be of service, and even gave me his card. He was a very plesant and kind fellow. He seemed like he had even known our dear Tim, and felt with us. (Winks at Little Peter) Why, he may even be able to find you a better situation, Peter! ;)

Valerie: Just hear that! What a good soul! :)

(Little Peter is the one blushing now. :D :">)

Jenny: And then Peter will be able to set up his own business and keeping company with some nice girl! ;)

Little Peter: (Still blushing) Oh, go on, you! ;)

Peter: It's just as likely as not, though there's plenty of time for that, dears. (Quieter) However we do eventually part from one another, I am sure that we will never forget our Tiny Tim, and this first parting. I know, my dears, that when we remember how patient and mild he was, we will be less likely to quarrel amongst ourselves and forget our beloved lost brother and child.

Valerie: (Puts one arm around Peter and the other around Shelly) Oh, Bob...

Peter: (Picks up Little Mick) Emily, I am happy. Very happy! (he's smiling, but there's still a few tears in his eyes as the spotlight moves to the lone crutch against the empty chair in the corner, before fading out on the scene all together as the Cratchit's house rolls out, the curtain closes, and the fog starts again.)

Mike: (Coughing) Specter...(glares offstage) if I could SEE you in all this fog...isn't there something I could have done to help that poor boy and his family? That... (sighs) I HATE seein' Pete...um, Bob, cryin' like that. :(

*As if on cue, the fog thins out and the two now stand half way between the church tower and the counting house.*

Mike: Wha...what are we doin' here? (There's a brief light in the countinghouse, and we see a man - actually, a stagehand in costume - writing in some ledgers, but it's definately not Scrooge or Cratchit, before it rolls out) Hey, that's my countinghouse, but where am I? Why haven't we seen me yet? Specter, please show me my future self...even if the picture ain't a pretty one. :p

*The Ghost points away from the counting house.*

(The gate around the church tower opens to reveal a foggy - though noticeably less foggy than before - cemetary. The place is dark, murky, and choked with half-dead vegetation. The Ghost leads Mike to one tombstone in particular.)

Mike: Before I read the name on the tombstone, Spirit, answer me one question. Are these the shadows of things that WILL be, or are they the shadows of things that MAY be only?

*Still, the Ghost does not respond, but rather continues to point towards the tombstone.*

Mike: A life can be made right! If the course of a life is departed from, the end may change! Say it is so with what you've shown me! (Growls) Damn it, say somethin'! Anythin'!

*The Ghost remains still.*

Mike: You know, givin' me the silent treatment is really gettin' on my nerves. :p

*The Ghost still remains still.*

Mike: (Mutters as thunder is heard and we see "lighting" effects against the backdrop) Man, could they make it just a bit creepier? Last time I checked, it was Christmas, not Halloween! :p (Turns to the tombstone, which he creeps toward slowly. It's finally illuminated by some of the "lightning" effects, and we see the name written on the tombstone - EBENEEZER SCROOGE. Mike pulls away and almost falls on his back, his eyes wide with shock.)

Mike: Oh, man, no! (The set darkens and starts to change behind them as he grasps the Ghost's robe) Spirit, am I the man who lay upon the bed, whom the guttersnipes profited off of? :o

*The Ghost's hand finally begins to shake.*

(As the Scrooge's bedroom set rolls out, Mike tugs hard on the Ghost's robe again.)

Mike: Good Spirit, here me out! I'm not the man I was! I will not be the man I must have been before tonight. Why show me this if I am past all hope? :o

*The hand continues to shake.*

Mike: Please! Your nature interceds for me and pities me! Assure me that I may yet live an altered life!

Mike: I'm not the man I was, Spirit. I will honor Christmas with all my heart, and try to keep it the whole year. I will live in the past, the present, and the future, and I will not forget the lessons they all taught me. Please, oh PLEASE tell me I may sponge away the writin' on this stone! PLEASE!

*In Mike's agony, he catches the hand, and suddenly, the cloak floats empty to the ground. The fog rolls in again, and he is once again in his bedroom.*