Ebenezer Scrooge, P.I.

I am going to write a new version of A Christmas Carol where Scrooge is a hard-boiled private dick solving Marley’s murder:

The name’s Scrooge. Ebenezer Scrooge, P.I. My partner Marley’s been deceased these past seven years, and I won’t rest until I know why.

No corner of the past or present are safe from my hunt. I’ve made bargains – dark bargains – with spirits to assure me of that.

Marley’s murder may lie in the past. But the future will not find him unavenged, or my name isn’t Scrooge.

Ebenezer Scrooge, P.I.

Raindrop on Roses > Black Ice on Roads

When The Sound of Music collides with the current weather forecast in my brain, this is what happens:

Black ice on roads is a thing that I’m hating
Rain that then freezes is not worth creating
Breaking the branches to which the ice clings
Both of these are my least favorite things…

(Try not to picture me in lederhosen yodeling this. Oh, TOO LATE! That’s an image you could have done without.)