Everyone’s favorite season is finally here. A time of perfect weather, vibrant leaves, and pumpkin spice lattes — I don’t know of anyone who doesn’t love fall. But, I won’t settle.
For every favorite season, there must be a Scrooge to even out the playing field. Any takers? No? Well not to worry, I took one for the team and became the Scrooge of fall.
That’s right, I hate fall now. Fall sucks. I would rather be framed for murder than go pumpkin picking. The only thing worse than a pumpkin patch is World War II. Every time you say you need a light scarf, I automatically share a cruel fact about PETA. What’s that, you need a light scarf? Did you know that in 2011, out of 760 dogs impounded, PETA killed 713 and farmed out 36 to other shelters? Horrible.
What does this have to do with anything, you ask? Well, I’m the first fall Scrooge, so I set the boundaries. Deal with it.
This is bad and I hate it, actually.
Image: shutterstock, S.Borisov
One of my responsibilities as the fall Scrooge is to be visited by the Marley brothers. They sing a song that goes “We’re Marley and Marley, woah,” and I get all creeped out. I’ve only seen the Muppets version of A Christmas Carol. Leave me alone.
I would say I’ve stepped unabashedly into my role. I told all of my co-workers they had to work on Thanksgiving. One guy believed me, but the rest of them said, “No, you’re an entry-level employee and the office is closed that day,” plus my manager said I didn’t have that authority, “How dare I.”
But I’m not phased. Every time you ask if I want to visit a haunted mansion, I throw up. One time I hadn’t eaten in a while so I couldn’t throw up, but I aggressively gagged for a long enough time to still get the point across.
Every time you ask if I want to visit a haunted mansion, I throw up.
Being the fall Scrooge isn’t easy. The other day I sent out a memo titled “Gourds Are Why We Have President Trump” to my 300 coworkers. The traffic their replies created in my inbox caused my computer to crash and my manager said I had to pay for a replacement computer on my own because I “brought this on myself.”
And here you are probably thinking my new job is a walk in the park!
My role as fall Scrooge actually involves a lot of walks in parks. I have to spy on my enemies (everyone) and take notes so I know which aspects of fall to denounce most publicly. Are people having picnics? Are they jumping in piles of leaves? Are they riding carriages through haunted pumpkin patches together as a youth group, hoping they’ll get to sit next to their crush? These are the subjects my research entails.
I also take a lot of meetings now. Once I became the Ebenezer Scrooge of fall, the Ghost of Fall Past visited me while I slept. It wasn’t super productive though because he saw that I’ve always really enjoyed fall. He asked me what went wrong but I punched him in the face and he evaporated. Whatever, fall is dead to me now so it doesn’t matter.
The Ghost of Fall Present was cool. I asked him why we was enormous and soft and he said “I’m one of Jim Henson’s The Muppets” and I said “OK.” We talked about how many times we’ve each called our Senators in the past year. It’s a lot. Yeesh.
If you thought these idiots loved Christmas, you won’t believe how nuts they go for leaves. True faces of evil.
When the Ghost of Fall Future visited me, he showed me what life would be like if I continued hating fall so much. Apparently I’ll alienate all of my friends and end up drowning in a pile of gorgeously colored leaves but I won’t even get buried because my pile of leaves won’t be lush enough for the kids to fall backwards into and find me.
Man. That hurts.
Having my life laid out for me by an assortment of weird looking puppets made me realize I should read the Charles Dickens version of A Christmas Carol. Also though, it made me realize why there’s never been a fall Scrooge. Maybe I’ll give up my title and let fall lovers prosper, but I am gonna try to patent it so I can make millions from my genius idea.
Charles Dickens should be fine with it, he’s dead.
The fall is bad and I hate it.
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