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SPAMCAPITAL OMEGA: THE REMAKE OF THE REMAKE OF THE SPAM

Without venturing for Scrooge quite as hardily as this,
I don't mind calling on you to believe that he was ready
for a good broad field of strange appearances, and that
nothing between a baby and rhinoceros would have
astonished him very much.
 
Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not by
any means prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the
Bell struck One, and no shape appeared, he was taken with a
violent fit of trembling. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter
of an hour went by, yet nothing came.
 
All this time, he lay upon his bed, the very core and centre of
a blaze of ruddy light, which streamed upon it when the clock
proclaimed the hour; and which, being only light, was more
alarming than a dozen ghosts, as he was powerless to make
out what it meant, or would be at; and was sometimes
apprehensive that he might be at that very moment an interesting
case of spontaneous combustion, without having the consolation
of knowing it.
 
At last, however, he began to think--as you or
I would have thought at first; for it is always the person not
in the predicament who knows what ought to have been done
in it, and would unquestionably have done it too--at last, I
say, he began to think that the source and secret of this
ghostly light might be in the adjoining room, from whence,
on further tracing it, it seemed to shine. This idea taking
full possession of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled in
his slippers to the door.
 
It was his own room. There was no doubt about that.
But it had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls
and ceiling were so hung with living green, that it looked a
perfect grove; from every part of which, bright gleaming
berries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe, and
ivy reflected back the light, as if so many little mirrors had
been scattered there; and such a mighty blaze went roaring
up the chimney, as that dull petrification of a hearth had
never known in Scrooge's time, or Marley's, or for many and
many a winter season gone.
 
Heaped up on the floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys,
geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs,
long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of
oysters, red-hot chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges,
luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch,
that made the chamber dim with their delicious steam. In easy state
upon this couch, there sat a jolly Giant, glorious to see; who bore a
glowing torch, in shape not unlike Plenty's horn, and held it up, high
up, to shed its light on Scrooge, as he came peeping round the door.
 
Scrooge entered timidly, and hung his head before this
Spirit. He was not the dogged Scrooge he had been; and
though the Spirit's eyes were clear and kind, he did not like
to meet them.
 
Scrooge reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple
green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment
hung so loosely on the figure, that its capacious breast was
bare, as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by any
artifice.
 
Its feet, observable beneath the ample folds of the
garment, were also bare; and on its head it wore no other
covering than a holly wreath, set here and there with shining
icicles.
 
Its dark brown curls were long and free; free as its genial
face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice,
its unconstrained demeanour, and its joyful air.
 
"Have never walked forth with the younger members of
my family; meaning (for I am very young) my elder brothers
born in these later years?" pursued the Phantom.
 
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