The Ghostwriter of Christmas Past, Present and Future

Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh
My electricity bills just won’t go away!
The jobs I’m forced to do won't make my spirit bright;
This heavy debt I’m in will haunt my sleep at night! 

Time flies, and it's December again, which means yet another pile of bills is due. Money is tight, so this month I have to churn out Christmas cards for all those who won't bother to write their own Christmas cards. Bah, humbug does not even begin to describe how I feel about this whole ordeal! 

I'd much rather retreat to my own peace and quiet to continue writing my latest magnum opus, "The Lord of the Ghosts-writings". It’s a vast book, complete with a map, plenty of my own drawings, and a self-created ghost language with detailed grammar. It’s appended by my epic "The Eyemarillion", a spectacular tale of how I hunted for a new monocle in various optical establishments. 

I was forced to move into a rented apartment after the power company cut the electricity to my manor due to unpaid bills. I can survive without electricity – after all, I have survived several wars, natural disasters, and conservative governments – I can rough it out if need be. The problem is that my faithful old fax machine needs power to receive and send ghostwriting assignments. 

When the power was cut, I simply ran an extension cord from my neighbour’s backyard outlet to my study in order to keep the fax going. For some reason my neighbour didn’t appreciate it. He had the nerve to accuse me of stealing! I don’t know what his problem is, he wasn’t even using that outlet. 

Long story short, here I am, renting in an apartment building, at the mercy of the maintenance company, a bunch of next-door simpletons, and anonymous “keep your voice down or else” -notes. Fine, I wrote the notes myself the first night I spent here, and plastered them on the walls. I am not naïve; I know how neighbourly relations are best preserved: through passive-aggressive communication.

What was that noise? Is that idiot upstairs making a racket again? It sounds like he’s bowling in his living room, but that can't possibly be true, can it? This truly is the worst part of apartment living: the neighbours. Where is my broom? I'll pound on the ceiling until that guy shuts up! THWACK THWACK and one more THWACK, take that, you fool!

The audacity of some people! When you live in close proximity to others, you keep the noise down, you hear that up there!

Like I don’t have enough of my own problems. I ate too many leftover Halloween treats and chipped a tooth. Going to a private dentist in this country is way too expensive; it costs an arm and a leg just to open your mouth, and given the current economic climate, I'd rather keep all my limbs intact by keeping my mouth shut. The poor just can't afford to be sick. I can't even get into the municipal health center; they flat-out claimed I'm a fossil whose Treatment Guarantee expired during the Kennedy presidency. They actually called me “a complete burden to the healthcare system”. Nobody wants to help me, yet the government merrily helps itself to my hard-earned tax-money!

Well, that's enough of that unnecessary rambling. Time to review the client list and the Christmas greetings I've already prepared. The orders included the Office of President of Finland, Royal Oil Refineries of Dubai, Nature First NGO... and here’s a pile of dismissal letters I got to write on behalf of various state agencies, a rather peculiar “Christmas greeting” from them this year… All ready to be posted! The business clients are all done, so I can move on to the private individuals.

In this assignment, a 25-year-old Mary wants to send Christmas greetings to her grandparents, but she doesn't have time to craft them because she’s busy scrolling Instagram. The card decoration must include “lots of glitter and homemade Christmas ornaments”. 

Now, where did I put my scissors? I'll cut some gold paper and make a Christmas tree – that’s a bit crooked – and add pipe cleaner decorations… Oops! The glue stick fell on the floor. I’ll have to crawl under the table to look for it – ouch! I bumped my head! And the jar of glitter spilled over my cloak. Damnation! I look like the ghost of Liberace! The card looks a bit tacky too, but it’ll have to do. Signed; “Mary, 25 years old”, and into the envelope it goes.

In the next assignment, a recently divorced pensioner named Gladys wants to send cards to her relatives informing them about her new marital status, with a different poem penned into each card. Why a different poem? Will the relatives call each other on Christmas Day to compare Gladys's poems to find out who got the most awkward one this year? Well, an assignment is an assignment, and the client is always right as long as there is enough money in their pockets!

 Let's try some poetry:

… Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, and the very next day, the police hauled you away…
... Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is you – out of my house…
… Frosty the Snowman was a gentleman compared to you…
… On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me – alimony! 
 
The relatives will have something to really talk about this year. Signed, “Gladys, free of all the earthly burdens”. Glitter on top and into the envelope it goes. A pensioner, eh? I myself will never get to retire, even though both my feet are already in the grave.

I have never received a Christmas card myself. Even if someone did send one, it would go to my official address, meaning my manor, which I can't return to before the expiration of the restraining order requested by my neighbour. So I'll make a card for myself... I’ll write something like…

I’m dreaming of a debt-free Christmas, 
just like the ones I used to know
Where the money piles glisten
And debtors listen 
To hear; O.G.’s got the dough!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to Myself from Myself

and what the heck, I'll pour the rest of the glitter onto this card. Ta-da!

Honestly, I'm not a Christmas ghost, but if nothing else, this year I wish everyone a peaceful Christmas... What's that sound? It's coming from the upstairs apartment. Is that man skipping rope in his living room? While wearing rubber boots?

I’ve had enough! I'll bang on the radiator in revenge! 

CLANG CLANG CLANG Are you going to shut up already, you miserable hoppidi poppidi elf-man! Lifelessness is eternal, and I am doomed to write those awful Christmas cards in the past, present and future, aren’t I? Even if I have to spend eternity in an apartment building, I am determined to spend it in silence! CLANG CLANG CLANG