"A Christmas-", Excuse Me, "A Holiday Carol"

In late December with the holiday crush already taking its toll, Jebaneezer Booge was hard at work keeping his bowling alley afloat during this time of relative inactivity. Everyone was too busy buying holiday gifts for one another to enjoy the simple pleasures of rolling a sixteen-pound ball down a lane and hitting ten pins. Booge became so wrapped up in his work, he assigned employee, Rob Snatchit, to work counter overtime without pay. A timid soul, Snatchit was too afraid to raise any sort of objection, so he calmly suggested to his boss that he needed to complete his holiday shopping.
"Excuse me, Mr. Booge" said Snatchit shyly, "but tis the eve of holiday morrow, and my family requires non-denominational gifts in order to celebrate the holiday season."
"Holidays?" scolded Booge, "Why would I become so wrapped in such a tolerant season of outpouring happiness. Leave this place. I don't expect you back till the monday after New Year's Day."
"Oh thank you, sir." cried Snatchit, as he pranced out the day with the greatest of glee.
"The holidays," said Booge, "Humbug!" Just then, every pin in lane one was knocked down with a great thud, even though no ball was rolled down that lane. Then every pin in every lane was knocked down with the sound of a strike. A ghost suddenly appeared from behind the counter, it was PBA Hall of Famer Dick Weber!
"Dick Weber!" cried Booge, "Well, it's an honor to see you."
"Please," said Dick, "I don't have time to accept your ass kissing. I've come here to warn you of three other ghosts of holiday past, present and future that will visit you during the night."
"Well that's just fantastic." Booge said sarcastically, "but why did these spirits send you?"
"They thought you'd trust an old, good-looking legend like me, but right now I gotta go" Weber said as he began to fade away.
"Well at least they got one thing right," said Booge.
"No, wait! What did they get right, how good-looking I was?" asked Weber as he dissolved into thin air.

That night, a fair mistress by the name of the ghost of holiday past visited Booge in his sleep.
"Well, c'mon," said the ghost, "I've got a lot of ungrateful souls to visit tonight." And with that, she grabbed his hand as they flew to a mystical land covered in black. They waited and waited, until Booge simply ran out of patience.
"What the hell are we doing here!" screamed Booge, "It's nothing but black!"
"Gee wiz, I didn't notice," said the glib ghost, "everyone's so preoccupied with generalizing the holidays that no one remembers holiday past. No one remembers that Jesus was born around the sprind solstice and that December 25th coinsided with a pagan holiday. No one remembers that Chanukkah celebrates the rededication of the Temple in 165 B.C. No one even considered that Kwanzaa is a reaffirmation for community and family for African-Americans. It's all lost in the 'holiday season'."
"Well it could be worse," suggesed Booge, "you could actually living in holiday present."
"Oh really?" said the ghost of holiday past. Almost immediately, the ghost caber-tossed Booge into the lair of the ghost of holiday present. A big and sorrowful man sat on his throne as Booge looked at him dumb-founded.
"Well, you look happy." said Booge.
"Ha, don't feel sorry for me," said the unhappy ghost, "feel sorry for your associate, Mr. Snatchit." Suddenly, they were transported to Rob Snatchit's home where Rob was just returning from shopping.
"How was the store, dear?" asked his wife, Shirley.
"Terrible," declared Rob, "I was looking for a menorah, but all they had were 'holiday themed' candle holders. This one was the best I could find. It doesn't even have candles, just little light bulbs that are supposed to save money insted of buying candles. It only has seven lights!"
"Spirit?" demanded Booge, "Tell me that this family will be able to celebrate Hanukka properly."
"Oh," warned the ghost holiday present, "I wouldn't be too sure." All of the sudden, the ghost of holiday present flung Booge in the presence of a reticent man wearing a black cloak, otherwise known as the ghost of holiday future. He pointed Booge in the direction of Rob Snatchit's home again. This time, Rob appeared much happier, but sinister as well. He didn't seem to be upset about the imperfect menorah, but much more delighted in the greed of the holiday season.
"Oh, am I glad we abandoned that Hanukkah crap," declared Rob, "We saved a bunch of money and got all the gifts wanted, too."
"Why, my goodness," said a saddened Jebaneezer, "please say that this is the only family to relinquish their heritage for personal gain." But they weren't the only family. Everyone had become so wrapped up in the general benefits of the holiday season that they forgot the meanings of every holiday that they were celebrating. But then, the ghost of holiday future pointed Booge in the direction of his old bowling alley, now decrepit and delapidated. The enjoyable recreation of bowling was, too, lost in the greed of the holiday season.
"Please spirit!" screamed Jebaneezer, "Please say this is the end of my holiday suffering!" The ghost then pointed to a bank statement lying on the ground, which belonged to Mr. Booge! the money in his bank account, it...it featured seven figures!
"No!!!" yelled Jebaneezer, "Please, anything but this!!!"

Booge awoke from his slumber screaming in great distress. He checked his calender immediately. It was still Christmas Eve! He ran to the door and outside, asking a boy if the holiday season had passed.
"You there, young man," Booge screamed, "the holiday season hasn't passed yet, has it?"
"No sir," said the young boy in a delightful little British accent, "why, it's only beginning."
"Oh thank you spirits, it hasn't passed," said Jebaneezer, "From now on, I will celebrate the past, present, and future of every holiday in this magical season."
And Jebaneezer Booge was as good as his word. He warned against the over-commercialization of Christmas, he emphasized the importance of the Jewish tradition of Hanukkah, and imformed everyone of the growing popularity of Kwanzaa. Never was there a better man, or a better season of holiday recognition.