Bah, Hogwash Part 1
anonymous
January 10 2011, 18:59:54 UTC
Flintheart's arthritis always played up at this time of year. The only reason he wintered in Calisota when it was high summer in the Limpopo valley was to keep tabs on McDuck. Which is not to say he was pleasantly surprised when the doorbell rang at one minute past midnight on a snowy New Year's Eve and he found McDuck on his doorstep. The old money grabber held out a lump of coal so small it was barely a carbon molecule. "What do you want?" Flintheart snapped. "It's a little late to put that in my stocking." Scrooge gave him a strange look. "'Tis Hogmanay, as you well know," he said. "I'm first-footing. D'you want yer piece of coal or no?" Of course Flintheart had heard of Hogmanay. A long time ago he'd decided that to understand your enemy you must become your enemy. He wore a tam o'shanter, he'd tasted haggis and practised many other Scottish customs, only he'd assumed the sociable ones weren't necessary. What did being the first to visit your neighbor on the first day of the new year have to do with being the world's richest duck? He was tempted to slam the door and take his aching joints back to bed. Then again. Free coal. "Come in, come in," he said, briefly considering the size of his coal deposits in case this sliver might make a difference. Not a chance. Had it been a dime, now....
Bah, Hogwash Part 2
anonymous
January 10 2011, 19:01:28 UTC
He lit Scrooge's way through the hall, drawing his dressing gown more closely around himself with the hand that wasn't holding the candle stub. "You'll pardon my dress, I wasn't expecting company." "So I see," Scrooge said, glancing around the cold empty drawing-room where the only illumination was provided by the moon. "You're not celebrating." "Well, no. Celebrations cost money," Flintheart said, pointedly not switching on the lights. "Och, Hogmanay doesn't cost overmuch. I always liked it better than Christmas ever since I was a lad. None of yer ruinous gift-giving." "You just gave me a gift." "So I did." From the expectant silence Flintheart realized he was supposed to do something in return. First-footing, he thought sourly. Wrongfooting, more like. Scrooge was almost smirking. "No true Scotsman would let his neighbor leave on Hogmanay without a wee drop." With a small sigh Flintheart fetched a bottle and two glasses. They sat down at the nearest table with the candle between them. Scrooge raised his glass. "Lang may yer lum reek!" Flintheart wasn't quite certain he hadn't just been insulted. "Slainté," he said between his teeth. "You have the Gaelic, do you?" Scrooge tossed back the rest of his drink and rose. "Well, I must be going." Flintheart saw him out with a distinct sense of relief. Scrooge's limo was waiting at the end of the driveway. "Thanks for the coal," Flintheart said. "Thanks for the tap water," Scrooge replied. "Oh, by the way, gelukkige nuwe jaar." "Dankie," Flintheart said automatically. Then, despite the cold, he stood in his front door staring after Scrooge until the limo was out of sight. He was beginning to wonder whether understanding Scrooge was worth the hassle.
Re: Bah, Hogwash Part 2
anonymous
February 3 2011, 08:35:12 UTC
OP here
Thank you very much for this. That was so excellent. Love the fact that in the end, Scrooge wished him a happy new year in Afrikaans and Flintheart thanked him back.
"What do you want?" Flintheart snapped. "It's a little late to put that in my stocking."
Scrooge gave him a strange look. "'Tis Hogmanay, as you well know," he said. "I'm first-footing. D'you want yer piece of coal or no?"
Of course Flintheart had heard of Hogmanay. A long time ago he'd decided that to understand your enemy you must become your enemy. He wore a tam o'shanter, he'd tasted haggis and practised many other Scottish customs, only he'd assumed the sociable ones weren't necessary. What did being the first to visit your neighbor on the first day of the new year have to do with being the world's richest duck? He was tempted to slam the door and take his aching joints back to bed.
Then again. Free coal.
"Come in, come in," he said, briefly considering the size of his coal deposits in case this sliver might make a difference. Not a chance. Had it been a dime, now....
Reply
"So I see," Scrooge said, glancing around the cold empty drawing-room where the only illumination was provided by the moon. "You're not celebrating."
"Well, no. Celebrations cost money," Flintheart said, pointedly not switching on the lights.
"Och, Hogmanay doesn't cost overmuch. I always liked it better than Christmas ever since I was a lad. None of yer ruinous gift-giving."
"You just gave me a gift."
"So I did." From the expectant silence Flintheart realized he was supposed to do something in return. First-footing, he thought sourly. Wrongfooting, more like.
Scrooge was almost smirking. "No true Scotsman would let his neighbor leave on Hogmanay without a wee drop."
With a small sigh Flintheart fetched a bottle and two glasses. They sat down at the nearest table with the candle between them. Scrooge raised his glass. "Lang may yer lum reek!"
Flintheart wasn't quite certain he hadn't just been insulted. "Slainté," he said between his teeth.
"You have the Gaelic, do you?" Scrooge tossed back the rest of his drink and rose. "Well, I must be going."
Flintheart saw him out with a distinct sense of relief. Scrooge's limo was waiting at the end of the driveway.
"Thanks for the coal," Flintheart said.
"Thanks for the tap water," Scrooge replied. "Oh, by the way, gelukkige nuwe jaar."
"Dankie," Flintheart said automatically. Then, despite the cold, he stood in his front door staring after Scrooge until the limo was out of sight. He was beginning to wonder whether understanding Scrooge was worth the hassle.
Reply
Thank you very much for this. That was so excellent. Love the fact that in the end, Scrooge wished him a happy new year in Afrikaans and Flintheart thanked him back.
Reply
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