“Eh…Mr. Scrooge of Number 17 Thames Street North?”
“Who is there how dare you enter my home!"
"Strictly speaking I haven’t…that is entered your abode. Time-space displacements, and such.”
"What?”
“Never mind. Upon review of your current life. Personnel Management has dispatched me to set things in some order. Pardon the intrusion.”
“What?”
“Mr. Scrooge you are what is called in the popular jargon a First Class Shit. The usual treatment is to let loose Spirits of the Season upon them, and hope for the best. In your case a waste of time.”
“…again, I say Wha…”
“Please don’t. Given your behaviors I’ve been directed to dip you corporeally into hell. I’m sorry this will hurt rather a lot I’m afraid. You’ll be immersed for five minutes subjective time. This roughly 148 years in spiritual the realm. This way please.”
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
At this point in the transcript replacement Angel~R88Kv logged that she went to the Caligula pub drank several pints talked shop, and lost track of time. Client E. Scrooge was belatedly retrieved from Hell 2 hours 56 minutes after being dispatched. As best accounting can tell Mr. Scrooge spent approximately 3,056 years in the neither region. Somewhat longer than prescribed.
“Mr. Scrooge…sir…are you alright?
Our apologies you were ensconced in the Lakes of Fire for rather longer than intended. We hope this inconvenience has helped you reform your view of humanity.”
“What?”
“Exactly. In my capacity as Angel~R88Kv I’m required to say your soul is saved…for now. Go forth and show kindness to the world. Here is your receipt for time spent in hell. Non-transferable. If you would sign just there thank you…and here…right here too, just over here, thank you, and… here. Of course, nothing will be deposited into your spiritual account as you had to be told to be good. Have a Merry Christmas if that applies.”
"What?”
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