So you ask if I have a Scrooge in my life, huh? Well, I do. He's three feet tall and is named Drew. I know, not so scary yet, but after you read this, you will feel so bad for me. So here is the story, of “Christmas With a Three-Foot Scrooge”.
Long, long ago- well, a few years ago, it was Christmas Eve. I was seven years old, and my little brother Drew, was three years old. We were at our Christmas party. Our guests were having a great time, and so weren't we. I was surprised the way Drew was acting. He was behaved, mild-mannered, and polite, until “Present Time”. That got Drew crazy.
He was jumping around, screaming, and kicking. We could all tell he was excited. A little, too, excited. I was extremely embarrassed. Then, Drew ran to the Christmas Tree. I knew something bad was going to happen... I was right. Drew jumped on one of the presents that was
“coincidentally” for me, and was now “coincidentally” ruined. Instead of yelling and tackling him, I took a deep breath, and let it go.
I walked over to the Christmas Tree and took the biggest present that was for me. I untied the bow very gently, but then BAM! Drew knocked me on the hardwood floor like a door that Chuck Norris kicked. Before I got up, Drew was ripping the wrapping paper to that present.
“No!” I screamed embarrassing myself. I couldn't help a wild child open my present without adult supervision. There it was, one of the presents I really wanted for Christmas.
“Oh my goodness!” I screamed. I loved it!
It was a beautiful bike with no training wheels. It was a Mongoose bike, from one of the best bike company ever! The bike was magenta, one of my favorite colors. Also, the bike was super shiny since it was new.
I hugged the people who bought me the bike and thanked them. I walked back to the tree to open a new present. Then, I found my bike lying on the ground looking like someone knocked it over, and in this case, that “someone” was Drew.
Unlike before, I screamed and really tackled him furiously. My bike was a half ruined! I let go of Drew and hugged my Mom. Her lovely words and squeeze somehow calmed me down. After that, the rest of the night was much better with Drew in his room, and me playing with my
new toys.
When everyone left, I got in to my Pajamas and went into my room. My mom and dad tucked me in, and kissed me on the forehead. We all said “goodnight” to each other, and I was already sleeping dreaming about everything that was going to happen tomorrow.
The next morning, I woke up around six o'clock. Even though it was early, very early, I still woke my parents up.
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” I hollered while shaking them.
“What? What? What?” my mom said in a very sleepy voice.
“Christmas!!!” I screamed.
“Oh, right. Merry Christmas, sweetie,” my mom said, still very sleepy.
“Merry Christmas!” I said hugging my mom and dad.
“Lets go go go!” Then , I was off running to the Living Room. I stopped running and stared at the Living Room. Oh my! I sat on the floor just admiring the presents. Then, I heard a high-pitched scream from the hallway. It was Drew. (Of course). He ran to the Christmas Tree and ripped his presents open. (Thank goodness not mine). Mom and dad took pictures of Drew. Now it was my turn. I got wonderful presents like, an Electric Guitar, a Baby Alive Doll,
Barbie Dolls, and much, much, more.
I played with all of my toys until Lunch Time. I stuffed my self with
ham, ham, and more ham. Then I rinsed my throat with cold, refreshing,
water.
Drew played with his food. He at least tried the ham, but then spit it out on the floor. We also had mashed potatoes, which Drew played with also. He rubbed the mashed potatoes on his face and ran around the house screaming “Give me your potatoes!!!”
I just ignored Drew, but my Dad got really mad.
He picked Drew up and brought him to his room. Dad locked the door so Drew couldn't get out. For a few minutes, all I heard was Drew screaming, kicking the door, and the Christmas music on the Television. I didn't feel bad for Drew at all. He kind of deserves all of that. He half
ruined my Christmas!
Then, my Dad was nice enough to open Drew's door and let him play. The rest of the day wasn't too bad. Drew just knocked over some of my favorite ornaments, broke my crayons, and messed up my Wii. (The crayons I don't really care about).
The day passed by fast, and it was time to go to sleep. It was a great day. I said “Goodnight” to everyone, and I was asleep.
It was morning, a normal morning. My alarm clock/Drew woke me up. I had some Frosted Flakes with milk, my favorite. I turned on the Television in our Kitchen. I watched Hannah Montana, and my Dad was reading the News Paper, then he noticed something.
“Want to go see a movie today?” My Dad asked.
“Sure,” I said.
“Lets see...hmm...want to see ' A Christmas Carol?'”
“Yay!” I said.
“I'll take that as a yes,” my Dad said.
So Dad, Mom, Drew and I went to the movie theaters.
“Here we are!” Dad said.
I saw a humongous, gigantic, enormous, big, posters everywhere advertising movies. The smell of buttery popcorn made me hungry. Really, really, hungry. So I walked over to the Popcorn Counter and ordered a Medium Popcorn.
While I was giving the money to the lady, I heard yelling. A very familiar yell. Yep! It was Drew. He was yelling for a bigger popcorn. Mom refused. Then, of course, Drew ran to me.
“SYDNEY! BIG POPCORN!” Drew yelled.
“Okay,” I said just to make him stop.
“YAY!!!” Drew screamed.
I just wanted to get out of the Theater. When we got our tickets, we walked to the room where the movie was playing. I relaxed, and ate my Popcorn. The movie started right away.
The movie was wonderful. Scrooge would have to be my favorite character. I wondered how it would be like to have another version of Scrooge in real life. Well, someone who ruins Christmas and takes the fun out of almost everything. There would have to be someone like that.
While I was walking out of the Movie Room, I saw Drew sipping and slurping his soda. I just stared at him and thought: Drew is a Scrooge! He acts like one! Now I know how it feels like. I kept staring at Drew. Yep, he's a Scrooge. I got to say, even though he's a Scrooge, he's my
Scrooge.