A Christmas Carol, starring Peter Jackson as Ebenezer Scrooge

Peter Jackson sat comfortably on his couch, splayed out as usual with his stolen Colbert Report mug in hand filled with what he likes to call tea. His laptop was in front of him playing the new tv spots for Desolation of Smaug. He watched them excessively, tingling from the power trip. The loud music of the trailers drowned out the sound of angry purists throwing various items at his windows. He'd replaced them with bullet proof glass after An Unexpected Journey came out and he was concussed by a thrown hardcover copy of the Hobbit with a note that read "Never laugh at live Purists, PJ you fool."

This evening in particular, however, there appeared to be bottles being thrown at his window of a sweet smelling rasberry smell. What finally drew him to the window was a loud explosion. He looked down to see a rag-tag group of purists stuffing bits and pieces of someone into a barrel. When they saw him approach, they began to swear at him in languages he'd never heard before, one girl being uncomfortably fluent in profanity. He cracked the window ever so slightly. "BUGGER OFF!" he stammered, but that only made the crowd angrier. Finally one of them stepped forward.
"Peter Jackson, we are the citizens of Forumshire, and we humbly ask you to come down here so we may talk about There and Back Again."
"The bloody hell his Forumshire? And there's nothing to discuss! I'm done with pick ups, and I don't think I could pay any of my leads enough to ever come back."
"Sir Peter, please..."
"SIR PETER! I know your trying to be respectful Eldo, but he's a fucking ass-"
"Norc, please, we have to at least try to get him to listen! Besides, we know that only way he'll listen to us is if we flatter him!"
"Can't we just light a bottle of Buckie on fire and throw it in there?" one said, his face turning into a cartoon smiley with devil horns, darkly nodding its head.
"No Sin, not yet."
Peter was getting tired of their rambling, so he began to close the window. Suddenly, a golf ball wedged itself in the frame.
"We're not done yet!" said the girl with the golf club.
"Well you better be before I call my loyal band of followers to come and beat you all to a pulp!"
The boy named Eldo shook his head despondently. "At least I tried. You've been warned Peter Jackson. According to our oracle, Wisey Banks, you will be visited by three ghosts this night, and I pray they be as ruthless as possible." Eldo turned away with a sigh. "Come on everyone, I think I saw Petty's head fly over there."
"BOLG HUMBUG!" Peter huffed as he finally removed the wedged golf ball and closed his window. "Those little pricks. Don't they know that I'm untouchable now? I'm sitting on a pile of gold as big as Schmauwg's AND I'm about to watch Netflix!"
Peter put on his "Day Who Even Knows Anymore" bath robe and settled back down into his favorite lounging position, preparing to watch "Revenge of the Sith" and take notes.

Some time passed, and he had fallen asleep. He was awoken by a loud Nazgul like screech. He shot up and looked around. "Fran, shut up and tend to the children!" He grumbled about woman's gender roles as he settled himself back down on his couch. He was about to close his eyes when he saw an amorphous blob hovering in front of him. "Wha-what the fuck!" he stammered as the blob moved toward him.
"Hello Pete." it said in a deep suave voice that made one think of piercing greenish eyes and high cheek bones.
"Ben? The hell are you doing in my house?"
"NO, I'M THE NECROMANCER YOU FOOL! I'VE COME TO RESURRECT THE FIRST GHOST TO VISIT YOU!"
"What? How is this possible! You don't technically exist!"
"I do in your imagination"
"Exactly! My imagination! You aren't actually a part of the story!!"
"Ah! So he finally admits it!" said an old voice with a thick British accent. The smell of smoke filled the air. The Necromancer turned on a light switch and Peter saw Benedict standing there in a blue suit. Before he could say anything, a smoke ring disintegrated in his face. His blood ran cold.
"No, it can't be..."
"Oh it is. After rolling in your grave so many times, one tends to find himself feeling quite alive. I don't believe we've ever met before. Clearly, you should have no idea who I am based off of the films you've made. So I'll do the proper thing and introduce myself;
Professor Tolkien, at your service."

Oh my goodness. Epicness thy name is this story.

MOAR!!!!   

I started audibly chuckling at at least three points in the first installment. I'm curious to see where precisely this goes.

Part 2

"But you're...dead!!" Peter clutched his 3D glasses to his chest in an attempt to comfort himself.
"That's why I'm here you blubbering walrus." The Necrobatch said. "I brought him back from the dead. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a fantastic career that I'd like to get back to." He leaped over to the window and threw it open, cold air rushing into the room, and in true Sherlock fashion jumped out the window.
"Nice fellow. Seems to be the only one taking his role seriously and he's a Dragon!" Tolkien chuckled. "Now, you must realize why I'm here." Peter looked at him dumbly. "You really don't know? Haven't you ever read "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens?
"Do I look like the kind of person who reads books?" Peter said with a raised eyebrow.
"No, I suppose not. Well, I'm the ghost of Hobbit's past. I've only got an hour, so I suggest that you don't waste your own time. Get up!" he boomed, and with a high pitched yelp, Peter did so.
"What past are we going to? I never read the Hobbit as a kid."
"That's the issue. Dear God, don't look so frightened. Here, has a puff," said the professor, generously holding out his pipe to the greedy director/producer/co-writer/carrot-eater/gong-hitter. Peter declined.
"Very well then, off we go!" Tolkien put his hand on Peter's shoulder and they flew through the New Zealand via Smaug Airplane.
They landed in Hobbiton in the evening. There were extras everywhere dressed up as Hobbits, dancing and merrymaking.
"This is Bilbo's birthday party. From the Fellowship." Peter said, gazing in wonder at the on location set. "How did I even do this without a green screen?"
"You were a less lazy and proud man back then. Though not much less," Tolkien added taking a drag from his pipe. "Over there," he nodded. Peter saw Ian Holm sitting down, and saw himself position his kids among the other extras front and center. He approached in time to hear himself say, "Action!" Ian Holm went off, telling the story of the trolls and talking about how they were all going to be squashed into jelly. The look on his kids' faces were genuine, as Mr. Holm masterfully told the story the way Tolkien intended.
"Pfft!" The children gasped. "And turned them all to stone!" Holm finished dramatically, and Peter heard himself say cut. At some time during the monologue, the professor had appeared.
"You see, that's the story I wrote, and that's how it was meant to be told. As a children's story. Look, your own children seem to love it!" He pointed his pipe at Peter's daughter, who was stomping her feet asking for more.
"No no, Katy, it's time for you to go to bed now," the younger version said as Fran Walsh made an appearance from the cave she hides in to whisk their two young children away. "Alright, that's good Ian, now we're going to shoot the scene with the CGI dragon firework." Ian rolled his eyes when Peter had turned around and grudgingly followed. The Professor only shook his head. "You should have listened to your child, Peter. But Lo! it's time for us to go back to the present."
"But-" before he could interject, Peter was whisked back to his couch in the blink of an eye.
"Now Peter, the next ghost will come in precisely half an hour. I'd suggest you use that computer contraption you have to look up Dickens before he arrives."
"Another one?"
"Three in total."
"Three? Is that necessary?"
The professor grinned, a twinkle in his eye. "You tell me. Well I'm off. Edith will be wondering where I am. Do try, Peter, to forsake your ego. It's the only thing bigger than your belly!"
"Excuse me?"
But the professor only laughed as he dissolved into thin air.
Peter huddled on his couch and opened his laptop and typed out what he thought to be Charles Dickens. Thank goodness for auto correct, otherwise he never would have found it!
Reading it proved difficult for him, considering he didn't actually know how. He turned on Siri and had it read it to him aloud. All he gathered was about there being a ghost of the past, present, and future.
"Present, who would be the ghost of Hobbit present?"
"That would be me," said an old withered voice.
"Christopher Lee?"
"Yes you pretentious twit. Since I am at the end of my days, I've been chosen to give you the beating every actor you have worked with in these movies has wanted to give. I'm the first of a very long line. But that does not matter. We have work to do."

Tin, this is gold!     

Why thank you Bungo  And I plan on finishing this one!

{{{{{{{{{{{{{I really should be studying for finals... eh. }}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

Tin, as much as I truly want you to do well at your studies.............
Carry on with this ! its great fun ! love it !   

Great!   

Though I do hope you haven't just given Jackson the idea of a three film epic based on A Christmas Carol.   

and - suddenly - it all became - clear .... "Do I look like the kind of person who reads books?" Peter said with a raised eyebrow.  

Bluebottle wrote:Great!   

Though I do hope you haven't just given Jackson the idea of a three film epic based on A Christmas Carol.   

Obviously he would have to borrow something from A Christmas Carol's prequel - Great Expectations.   

Brilliant Tin- wonderful idea too.   

Well, that's mighty generous of you Petty. (Completely deserved, of course.) Particularly as they seem to be playing golf with your head.   

Curious to see who will be the ghost yet to come

Particularly as they seem to be playing golf with your head.- Blue

Queens can do as they please (so long as get the key to the Royal Buckie cellar at the end I am not about to complain!).

Any number of well earned laughs here, Tin!  I think college finals are cranking your crabbit up!

"Necrobatch".  hehehe...

Most definitely Halfy!

PART 3

"How is it you even made down here?" Peter asked. Christopher was dressed in his Saruman costume, making him look even more ghostly than before.
"I'm not actually here, dotard. I'm a spirit. And there are things you need to see. For clearly your fame has clouded your judgement!" Without waiting for a reply, he walked through a wall. Peter, thinking that he should follow him, did, only to smash his face into the wall.
"Ouch! Christopher where did you go?"
He heard dark laughter coming from behind him. "I'm sorry Peter, I couldn't resist. Come, there are two things you must see." He held out his bony hand and Peter took it. He blinked and they were somewhere else. It appeared to be Martin Freeman's trailer.
"Why are we here? This is from a couple weeks ago!"
"It's still the Hobbit Present."
"But that's against the traditional story, isn't it?"
"Who are you to defend what is canon and what is not?" Christopher snapped, and Peter shut his mouth. "Now pay attention."
Peter saw Martin pacing up and down the trailer in his hobbit feet with Ian McKellen sitting in a chair with his head in his hand.
"I just don't get it. I've never had such a horrible experience filming a fucking film, Ian. I didn't even read the bloody book and I know it's supposed to be about Bilbo! I wouldn't have taken the damn role if I knew I'd be upstaged by quite literally EVERYONE ELSE!"
"It tends to be as such in Peter's movies." Ian said tiredly. "I had a similar conversation with Viggo the last time. The man simply doesn't know how to develop a strong story."
"He didn't need to develop one! HE HAS ONE IN HIS BLOODY HAND!"
"Don't you know Martin that Peter is illiterate?"
"Oh yes I forgot, but still!" Martin kicked the newly printed script that was just slid under the door across the trailer. "How did you put up with for two of these things?"
"Trust me, my patience is spent as is my career in film. If I ever have to talk to a tennis ball again..." he only sighed and shook his head.
"And now we have to publicize this shit. I don't think I can do it."
"You'll have to try Martin, for the sake of the fans. Don't let them loose hope in the material, for it is all they have left to hold onto."
"They don't deserved to be lied to!"
"No, no they don't. But they need you to tell them that everything will be alright. If you loose hope in it, then they will, too."
"Fine. Bugger it all! I can't wait to go back to Sherlock."

Suddenly the scene changed, and Peter was standing inside a bar of sorts, with a crest of two eels hanging above all the liquor. He saw the purists from earlier sitting casually around the bar, each with a mug of that sweet smelling ale.
"There's not much else we can do now, I suppose," the named Eldo said, sipping on his mug.
"Come on, it can't be as bad as we think it is! Nobody can fuck up that much!" Norc said hopefully.
"Are ye bloody blind? Haven't yoou seen the reviews of the film yet? It's fooking doomed!" said the man in the barrel.
"At least Lord of the Rings wasn't so bad..." said the woman behind the bar.
"DON'T get meh started Figgs."
"Well we need to decide who's going to see it, so we can promptly count how many bottles of flaming Buckie we'll need. Tin? How many are left in your cellar?"
"Negative 14."
The man in the barrel burped. "Negative 15."
"What' the point of seeing it? Is there one? I mean I'm seeing it for free so it doesn't matter, but still!" said Sin, and a few others nodded their heads in agreement.
"I say we break him bad," said one who looked and awful lot like Walt himself.
"Or we could drop him in the middle of some Fjords, I know a few!" said a couple of Fjordians.
"Or we could do nothing, see the movie, and write our respective reviews!" said Eldo hopefully.
"There's nothing respectable about this! So I'm leaving."
"I think I might agreeee with Banks fer once," said the barrel man.
"He's ruined Tolkien for all of us." said another.
"And I've run out of money from trying replace all the Buckie Petty's stolen, so I don't see how we can all go."
"Well then I guess that settles it," Eldo said despondently, "after four years of hopeful waiting and talking, we won't go see part two. I guess it's just natural."
Peter stared dumb-founded at the group. "They aren't even going to see it? But I value stealing their hard earned money!"
"You've stepped too far this time, Peter. Your losing the loyal fans."
"I have loyal fans. Have you seen TORn?"
"I meant the ACTUAL FANS OF THE STORY."
"Who needs them?" Peter said proudly, his bravado coming back. "I'm the king of Middle Earth."
Christopher only sighed and shook his head. "You haven't been listening to either of us. Hopefully the next ghost will finally talk so sense into you." In another blink of an eye, they were back in Peter's living room. "The final ghost will come in 10 minutes time. One last thing." He walked over and picked up a cardboard cut-out of Peter that was in the corner of the room (for Peter was extremely vain and liked to compliment himself at least twice a day) and impaled it on a broom.
"That wasn't respectful!" Peter scolded.
"YOU HAVE NO IDEA YOU WRITHING WORM!" and with that, Christopher was gone.

This gets better and better and it started off bloody good   

Im enjoying the flow, it purrs along beautifully    plus the fact its funny & spot on !

The Queen lives! Long live the Queen!

Tin, you are MAGNIFICENT!!     

 youuuu guyyyysss  

edit: Sorry for all the typos! I'm kind of short circuiting mentally right now. Normally I'd never be so sloppy! As Queen, it is my job to look perfect in all aspects of life, from nose to prose!

PART 4

His palms started to sweat. He tried not to watch the clock, but the minutes were flying by. He had no idea who would come next. What would the Hobbit Future bring? If he had anything to do with it, there would probably be an extended edition involved. He started riding his bike around his apartment, too lazy to pace, not knowing what else to do. The time flew by the director who is so used to blowing past deadlines and making hours and hours of film.
Finally, the lights all turned out. Peter braced himself, but nothing appeared immediately. He looked around, wondering if there was a wraith or something behind him (though he knew perfectly well that they could never sneak up on him, no, they had to process into the room very slowly, uniformly, and dramatically). Instead, he was drawn to a light outside his window. He walked over, tripping on his carelessly placed Oscars, and opened the window. A star in the sky seemed to be getting brighter and brighter. No, not brighter, closer!
The star made its way into Peter's living room and hovered in the middle. It shined so bright and beautifully Peter wondered if it was actually real and not CG.
"So, are you the next ghost?"
"Yes," said a strong man voice.
"Who are you?"
"I'm the essence of the Silmarillion. You should know who I am. You used my name in your movies."
"Yeah... Phillipa was the one who knew all the names."
The star sighed. "I'm Earendil, the brightest star? I'm a Silmaril."
"Ok." Peter said unemphatically. He didn't care about the Silmarillion. He couldn't get his hands on it, so it wasn't worth his time. Unless...
"Wait, if you're from the future, does that mean that I get the rights to the Silmarillion?!"
"Yes. But I warn you now, it only gets worse."
"What do you mean?" But Peter was engulfed in the light and blinded.
When he regained his sight, he saw around him a completely green screen set with actors all dressed in motion capture. He saw himself, a lot older now, looking permanently glued to his director's chair.
"And action." he said half-heartedly, but before the actors could do anything, one of the walls of the studio exploded. A rush of fans came running in and started to destroy all the equipment. To his surprise, the actors joined in. Even the crew joined in. Peter, too fat and old to move, quickly was surrounded by a bunch of purists with the JRRT symbol tatooed to their foreheads. Their leader stepped forward.
"Remember me?"
"Should I?" Older Peter said, though Peter immediately recognized the levelheaded purist named Eldo.
"YES! I tried to warn you, I WAS FAIR BACK THEN! But the crabbit has become contagious to all Tolkien fans, liberals and purists, and we can no longer idly sit back and watch you ruin what little Tolkien we have left! We lost our friend Petty when the news came out. His crabbit explosion was so huge, Scotland thought they were being bombed. We are here to avenge our friend!" The crowd cheered and they closed in on Peter, the first five trying to pick up his chair, but finding him so incredibly heavy that five more had to come help.
"Where are you taking me?"
"To your grave fucker!" said Norc.
They carried him outside to a green coffin. They dumped Peter's body inside of it, which was also green.
"Now you know how it feels!" said a really old Ian McKellen.
"No! Wait!" But it was too late. The casket was closed, and he was surrounded by green.
"Earendill! Arendal! EARingdil!!!!" he cried.
"Earendil!" it said angrily. "Shoot! I'm not supposed to talk to you anymore. Your just too annoying to resist."
"Help me!"
"I can't do that. This is your future, and there's nothing you can do to change it."
"But I can! I can change! I promise I can change!!!" When no reply came, Peter started violently pounding on the casket door, but it was sealed shut.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
Peter woke with a start on his couch. He was sweating from fear and his laptop was dead in front of him. The sun was shining in through the window.
"Bless myself! I'm alive!!!!" He jumped up from his lounging position and thrust open his window.
He saw Stephen Colbert stealing his mail. "Stephen!" he cried, and the tv show host thrust the mail back in the box. "What day is it, Stephen?"
"It's the thirteenth. Your movie hits theaters today. Where's my mug?"
"HAHA! There's still time to fix There and Back Again!"
"...Yeah. I mean it wouldn't matter if it was the fourteenth either, you'd still have plenty of time to fix it. Where's my fucking mug?"
"Here it is!" Peter said as he lobbed it out the window, not caring to see that it hit Stephen in the head. "What a glorious day! I must call Phillipa and all the other people working on the editing! I must go to Stone Street right away!!" He rushed out his front door still in his "Day Who Knows Anymore" robe moving the fastest he has in ages. He found himself passing the tavern at which the group of purists were all sitting, and strangely still sitting, so he burst in.
"You were right! You were right!" Peter cried, and he was greeted by several hungover hisses.
"Right about what?" said Eldo, squinting his eyes in the sunlight.
"I was visited by ghosts last night! And now I'm gonna fix There and Back Again!"
"WHAT?" everyone cried, and they toasted their empty glasses in the air before promptly passing out again.
"I'm off to Stone Street!" Peter said, clicking his heals and sprinting out the door.
"Well I can't believe that worked!" Eldo said amazed. "How much magic rasberry did you dose that golf ball with, Your Majesty?"
"The same amount I used to make Petty sober that one time."
"How long will it last?" asked all the Fjords
"Not long enuff." Petty said from the bottom of a barrel.
"Well, we'll have to wait a year and see!" said Eldo hopefully.


EPILOGUE

The day had come, and the citizens of Forumshire made their way to a local cinema to watch There and Back Again. They were all excited to watch in their seats, hopeful their trick had paid off. Everyone had come!
The previews had just ended, and the movie began immediately. There was no prologue for once. Everyone was hopeful.
Instead, there was an Eagle flying with Bard in its talons, who had Tauriel dangling by his feet. She was flung into the Erebor so she could "check Kili's trousers for the Arkenstone." The eagle then circled around and started following an angry Smaug. The eagle flung Bard onto the Dragon's back, where he strangled him with his bare hands.
Eldo could see the smoke coming from everyone's ears.
"Eru bless us, everyone!" he said quietly, preparing for the explosions to begin.

This is why you are Queen, you RULE!!!

i'll read this in christmas eve