The ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future linger on

Katrina Springs and Emma Garcia

The ghost of Christmas past, present, and future had come to visit in a dream. Left behind was a mess of a memory of what Christmas was, presently is and will be in the future.

Watching Dad pick out the best Christmas tree he could find and decorating it with popcorn strings and candles was the best. Mom would slip some whiskey into Dad’s coffee cup to put him in the mood to cut down even more trees and drag them into the snow for miles to make gifts, which would mostly consist of carved wooden animals and hobby horses. Sometimes Dad overdid it on the whiskey, though, and he would soon find himself falling over into the snow, over and over again.

After opening the gifts, the family would congregate in the parlor where the adults would have way too much sharp eggnog, and the kids would soon be ransacking the house with their new toys. Bob would steal Tammy’s Barbie and Ken doll, making the dolls kiss because he saw Mom and Dad do it earlier.

As time went on families started decorating a plastic tree with lights already on it. Dad would get wrapped up in the tangled lights and try to free himself — but he would trip over the electric cord and take the whole tree down with him. Mom still put whiskey in Dad’s cup, but not without taking a few sips herself.

While everyone opened their presents there was a glow, an electric glow from the screens of new laptops and cell phones which illuminated the entire living room.

Mom would make dinner while sneaking a sip of wine every time she heard the tapping and clicking of the new laptops and iPhones. The thought of her in-laws coming over made her sick to her stomach as she anticipated their disapproval.

Mother in-law never stopped talking about how poor Mom’s cooking was.

“The winter squash is a little weird. I would have done something different, but it’s good for your cooking,” she’d say condescendingly.

As the day went on, Mom would obviously grow more annoyed. She’d roll her eyes and finally, the future arrived.

Everyone wanted the newest and coolest car: the Flying Jet 3000. Most of the time the parents would wrap the key, which was a floating remote device that could take voice demands and talk back, in another gift so it wouldn’t float and be obvious.

As the teens roamed the air with their new cars, Mom and Dad were back home getting the thought of debt from the new Flyer Jet 3000 off of their minds with a little bit of help from Jack Daniels.

Thankfully, making Christmas dinner was a thing of the past. Mom would stock the house for what was needed for dinner. A tap of button and platters of food would rise along with a decorated table. The rest of the family would transport to the dinner table in a matter of seconds from the floating orbs hanging above the chairs.

Grandpa could never get it down. He always got stuck and grandma had to pull him out, making her fall onto the table and ruin the platters of food.
Fortunately they were replaced in a matter of seconds.

The ghost of Christmas past, present, and future had gone away but left the feeling of nostalgia and the smell of whiskey.


I couldn’t sleep one night, which isn’t unusual, and suddenly the grandfather clock in my room decided to make sure I knew exactly what time it was, which was unusual. Why? I could’ve sworn I didn’t have a grandfather clock in my room when I went to bed. I convinced myself I was dreaming, even though I hadn’t actually been sleeping, and pulled the covers up over my head. Then I screamed because the blanket was pulled off me. I was half convinced I was somehow in “The Conjuring” — you know, that part where the spirit thing is grabbing the little girl’s feet? That part was creepy.

So, as you would expect, I screamed like I was dying, and I was convinced I was. I looked around my room to see three men, which didn’t exactly make me feel better. I wasn’t in the mood to become a character in “American Horror Story.” But they were different, at least in appearance. They were ghosts, for lack of any other word. They were the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future and they told me a few things about how Christmas was, is and will become. The longer it’s been since they appeared, the more I think I was on ecstasy or something.

In the days of Christmas past, not too long ago actually, the idea and theme of Christmas was entirely different. Christmas meant family. It meant toys and candy and not having to worry about anything else. In the Christmas past that was even longer ago, that was true as well. The only difference was that there was the addition of one thing: murders committed by fruitcake.

If you’ve ever eaten fruitcake, you know what it’s like. For those of you who don’t, let me explain. A fruitcake is a cake made with chopped candied fruit and/or dried fruit and nuts. Unlike the “cake” in the name, it is very dense and not very appetizing. Some people in Christmases past agreed. You see, if your neighbor gave you a fruitcake on Christmas, it was sort of like someone biting their thumb at you. Basically, it was a horrible insult.

So when this was done, it was socially accepted that you could take the fruitcake and beat them over the head with it until you felt better. This would result in many things but usually death. Weren’t the old days just so wholesome?

In the present day, as in right now, Christmas has changed quite a bit. Not only has the wonderful tradition of killing people with fruitcakes ceased, so has the theme of being with family. No longer is it about toys and food and pretty songs about snow. No longer is Christmas about Santa and his labor force of tiny people. It is no longer the North Pole, it’s a capitalist hole.

Not to mention the spoiled children. Think of the world filled with Veruca Salts. That is a very terrifying thing, and I would not like to continue it.

The last little tid-bit of information the three ghosts left me with was their predictions for what Christmas will soon turn into. We all know what we think Christmas will turn into, but I have the real information. Of course this interpretation is subject to change but this was how it was supposed to be at that time.

In the future, the world will be a wasteland with the oceans filled with plastic containers and used wrapping paper and holiday shopping will be a killer. Literally. In the future every Christmas Eve there is a little competition that is held in every major chain store in the world. Unsurprisingly, it was created in Walmart.

This competition is very similar to the “Hunger Games.” Twenty-four lucky parents are chosen, they stand in line for hours to enter their names, and they compete in a sort of arena until only one is left alive. The last parent standing is able to choose whatever presents they like for their children, and they do not have to pay. It will all be very exciting.

Also in the future, Santa will implement a new program to figure out which children will get more presents. What is this system? He will proofread the letters he receives and the better writers will receive more presents. Keep that in mind, children, as you write your letters to Santa.

Now that I have left you all in a delightfully depressing mood, I must take my leave. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.