Post by Blithian on Dec 6, 2006 1:39:56 GMT -5
or
A Tale of Three Scrooges
by Blithian
Curly was dead. As dead as a doornail. But brother Shemp had returned and their business, Scrooge Bros. Plumbing, went on as usual. Disaster after disaster, slap after slap, eyepoke after eyepoke.
One stormy night, on the eve of Hanukkah, while Larry, Moe and Shemp tried to sleep on one queen-sized bed, they were suddenly awakened to the sounds of chains rattling, feet tripping, and somebody falling down a flight of stairs. The bedroom door burst open and there, to their great fright, stood the ghost of Curly himself (or itself, whichever is proper).
“Nyaaaaaaaaa!” the Scrooges exclaimed in horror.
“Aaaaaah, don’t getcher vowels inna uproar,” the fearsome spirit exclaimed, “I ain’t nuttin’ t’ be scareda, nyuk-nyuk-nyuk!”
“Is it really you?” asked Shemp with a quaking voice.
“It ain’t Egboit Einstein!” the ghost of Curly replied.
“If it’s really you,” craftily suggested Moe, “Then what’s the last thing you said ta me just before that piano fell on ya?”
“I said ‘t’anks for da ten-spot, Moe,’” the spirit said, moving noiselessly across the bedroom floor until it stood directly by the bed.
“Then ya better’ve come ta pay me back my ten-spot,” Moe replied, rising up with fists clenched, “Or I’ll moida ya!”
“Ya can’t moida me, Moe,” Curly laughed, “’Cause I’m awready dead... nyuk-nyuk-nyuk!”
At that retort, Moe tried to strike Curly’s ghost, but only swung in empty air.
“Har-har-har!” laughed Shemp, “Yez can’t touch ‘im!”
“No, but I can touch YOU,” angrily yelled Moe, as he grabbed Shemp’s nose with one hand and tried to slap it off his face with the other.
“Owwwww!” yelled Shemp, as Moe then slapped Larry’s head mightily. “Ouch!” cried Larry, “Wadja do that fa?” “Never mind wot I done that fa, do ya want some more?” “No.” “Than shaddup!” “Wot if I don’t wanna shuddup?” CRACK! “Ow!” BOING! “Ooo!” SLAP! “Ouch!” SPROINNNG!
“Hey!” exclaimed Curly’s ghost, “Aint yez fagettin’ ME? Dont yez wanna find out why I’m here?”
The three Scrooges in the bed stopped committing mayhem on each other for a moment, and turned to the spirit next to their bed. “Okay, mutton-head,” said Moe, “Why’re ya here insteada there where we planted ya?”
“I got sent back ta warn yez,” the spirit said, “Quit actin’ meshugganah durin’ Hanukkah, it ain’t respectful. Where’s yer Menorah? Where’s yer Hanukkah geld and dredls fer da kids?”
Well, the three Scrooges were so moved by their dead brother’s words, that they forever after kept a kosher house, especially during the eight days of Hanukkah, and they were kinder to each other and to all the neighborhood children, so that for the rest of their lives all the people said of them, “Nobody keeps Hanukkah like the three Scrooges!”
Or, as the ghost of Curly might say, “Happy Hanukkah, everyone, nyuk-nyuk-nyuk!”
A Tale of Three Scrooges
by Blithian
Curly was dead. As dead as a doornail. But brother Shemp had returned and their business, Scrooge Bros. Plumbing, went on as usual. Disaster after disaster, slap after slap, eyepoke after eyepoke.
One stormy night, on the eve of Hanukkah, while Larry, Moe and Shemp tried to sleep on one queen-sized bed, they were suddenly awakened to the sounds of chains rattling, feet tripping, and somebody falling down a flight of stairs. The bedroom door burst open and there, to their great fright, stood the ghost of Curly himself (or itself, whichever is proper).
“Nyaaaaaaaaa!” the Scrooges exclaimed in horror.
“Aaaaaah, don’t getcher vowels inna uproar,” the fearsome spirit exclaimed, “I ain’t nuttin’ t’ be scareda, nyuk-nyuk-nyuk!”
“Is it really you?” asked Shemp with a quaking voice.
“It ain’t Egboit Einstein!” the ghost of Curly replied.
“If it’s really you,” craftily suggested Moe, “Then what’s the last thing you said ta me just before that piano fell on ya?”
“I said ‘t’anks for da ten-spot, Moe,’” the spirit said, moving noiselessly across the bedroom floor until it stood directly by the bed.
“Then ya better’ve come ta pay me back my ten-spot,” Moe replied, rising up with fists clenched, “Or I’ll moida ya!”
“Ya can’t moida me, Moe,” Curly laughed, “’Cause I’m awready dead... nyuk-nyuk-nyuk!”
At that retort, Moe tried to strike Curly’s ghost, but only swung in empty air.
“Har-har-har!” laughed Shemp, “Yez can’t touch ‘im!”
“No, but I can touch YOU,” angrily yelled Moe, as he grabbed Shemp’s nose with one hand and tried to slap it off his face with the other.
“Owwwww!” yelled Shemp, as Moe then slapped Larry’s head mightily. “Ouch!” cried Larry, “Wadja do that fa?” “Never mind wot I done that fa, do ya want some more?” “No.” “Than shaddup!” “Wot if I don’t wanna shuddup?” CRACK! “Ow!” BOING! “Ooo!” SLAP! “Ouch!” SPROINNNG!
“Hey!” exclaimed Curly’s ghost, “Aint yez fagettin’ ME? Dont yez wanna find out why I’m here?”
The three Scrooges in the bed stopped committing mayhem on each other for a moment, and turned to the spirit next to their bed. “Okay, mutton-head,” said Moe, “Why’re ya here insteada there where we planted ya?”
“I got sent back ta warn yez,” the spirit said, “Quit actin’ meshugganah durin’ Hanukkah, it ain’t respectful. Where’s yer Menorah? Where’s yer Hanukkah geld and dredls fer da kids?”
Well, the three Scrooges were so moved by their dead brother’s words, that they forever after kept a kosher house, especially during the eight days of Hanukkah, and they were kinder to each other and to all the neighborhood children, so that for the rest of their lives all the people said of them, “Nobody keeps Hanukkah like the three Scrooges!”
Or, as the ghost of Curly might say, “Happy Hanukkah, everyone, nyuk-nyuk-nyuk!”
and 
all
time for me 
echoes, hope you all are doing well 
