Celtic Xmas Crackers – Screwged

Here’s a new take on an Old “twist”

SCREWGED

The man checked his face in the mirror and sighed.
The eyes were slightly bloodshot and had sad large bags underneath. The skin was pale despite the sunshine that filled his days. The hair was beginning to thin and while once golden, had started to gently fade. Although tall and still slender at 61 years of age, his posture was slightly slumped and he was feeling a few aches and pains here and there, despite the luxurious surroundings that he called home.

There was no mistaking it, the past few years had taken their toll and his body, mind and bank balance were all showing the impact. Every day seemed to bring a new challenge and every phone-call seemed to bring more problems. The plan, “That bloody plan” he thought, hadn’t exactly worked out as he expected, especially due to a few set-backs recently but he wasn’t one to surrender and wasn’t he still in the race and still calling the shots. A bit of patience and an opportune word or two in the right ears here and there would soon see his plan actually come to fruition. After all, he had come through the worst, hadn’t he?

The man clicked off the light and left the Italian marbled bathroom behind and made his way over to take his rest for the evening. He pulled back the luxury 100% Egyptian linen sheets and lay down, smiling at the thought that soon, very soon, his plan could finally execute and the rewards would come his way. The man placed his head on the eiderdown feather filled pillow, sighed and reached out to turn off the light upon the nearside table.

The man looked up toward the ornate ceiling  hidden in the nights darkness, told himself tomorrow really would be his idea of Xmas, closed his eyes and welcomed sleep.

“Wake up” said a soft voice on the wind.
The man turned within the bed, still fast asleep.

“David, wake up” said the same voice growing louder as it came closer to the bed.
The man in the bed  kept his eyes closed but swept a hand across his face to move the fly or mosquito that had managed to enter his bedroom during the night and was pestering him.

“KING!!, WAKE UP!” screamed the voice which apparently came from someone bending over the sleeping figure.

The man awoke and could not believe his eyes.

The bedroom lights were off, it was still night yet somehow there was a grey misty light around the bed. There Within the grey light stood many figures. Grey misty ghostly figures all wrapped in a large heavy black stained chain.

“What’s happening? Who are you?” asked the man who was wondering why his security guards had missed this intrusion.
“Ask us who we were!” replied the figures seemingly in unison yet none seemed to speak.
“All right, all right, who WERE you then?” asked the man trying to mask his fear with customary bravado.
“We were” replied the figures. “We were the People”.

The man wanted to reach for his panic button but somehow he felt a force pressing down on him so he couldn’t move his body. All he could do was speak and watch.

“The People?” queried the man.

The strange figures stepped forward as one and the man gulped as the bed was now surrounded in dense grey mist.
The man looked along the figures before asking “And what is that great chain you wear?”
The figures said “We wear the chain of shame and pain that we forged in life. We made it, link by link and yard by yard, while on Earth, it is heavy and it is long. Now we will never be rid of it, any more than you will ever be rid of yours!

The man gulped once more as the figure made a further advance and by now were seemingly lumbering over him.
As one, the figures then said “We were the People and we come to warn you Dave Cunningham King. Tonight of all nights, You will be haunted by three spirits!”

The man said “Haunted?”
The misty People voiced  “Without these visits, you cannot hope to avoid the path we tread. Expect the first ghost tonight, when the bell tolls one!”
The  man, not renowned for his patience or understanding then surprised the People by sighing and bluntly asking “Can’t I meet them all at once and get it over with?” but the figures had already begun to fade from view and the room was returning to darkness.

The man realised he could now move and reached out to turn on the light. Stretching to his side he checked the expensive watch, one of many that he owned,  upon the night stand. It read 12:15. He had been in bed little more than half an hour and was surprised to have fallen into a dream already.

He shrugged and blamed the expensive Pule, Parmigiano-Reggiano and Camembert cheese and crackers he had had later than normal at his favourite 5 star restaurant that evening.

He put the watch down, turned off the light, turned over in his luxury sheets and closed his eyes.

“WAKEY WAKEY!” bellowed a loud voice into the sleeping mans ear.

The man immediately awoke.

There in front of him, shrouded in grey mist, stood a hunched man in a cloth cap with a harsh battle weary and angry look upon his pale face.

“Who are you?” asked the man in bed.

“Me?, oh don’t recognise me eh. Some Brigton man you?. Its me, Billy Fullerton.” said the spirit.

“Billy Fullerton?, Of the Billy Boys?” said the man.

“Aye that’s me. Listen Davie son, I don’t have long, they don’t let me out much down there. I’m here to remind you of the old days and ways. I am the first Spirit, the Spirit of  Rangers past. I see you doing the bully tactics and aw that. Christ son, I was doing that near a hunner year ago. You have to get savvy, know?”

“What?” asked the bewildered King.

“Davie, don’t try and con a con-man son. I see you playing your games. I know you have the SFA scared of you, the press scared of you, the telly and radio folk getting told where to go. Feels good in power eh. Well that disnae last son, I bet you feel big playing  the big man, for what. Hee haw. Look at me, died penniless in a room and kitchen and idiots still sing a song. The bottom lines the bottom line son. Watch your feet in the lobby, you need to get a grip if you want to make it to the end of this marching season, you get my drift?”

“Err I think so” gasped King.

“Next visitors shouldn’t be long noo” said Fullerton tapping his cap with an open razor before fading back into the mist. Kings eyes felt heavy and then gave way to darkness.

“Mr King sir, We’ve landed” suddenly said a voice.

David King opened his eyes and couldn’t quite believe the beautiful woman who stood before him.

The woman was dressed in a red white and blue stewardesses uniform and was smiling as she gazed down at King from an apparent doorway in the mist.

King sat up and said “Who are you?”

“I am the Spirit of Rangers present” said the Stewardess. “I’ve come to show you how the present truly is, please collect your belongings and make your way towards the exit, placed here” pointing towards the doorway

King felt himself seeming to get out of the bed and proceeded towards the Stewardess.

King stood in front of the doorway and stared out in awe.

Immediately in front of him all was stormy with dark clouds and thunder and lighting.

“Look there” said the Stewardess pointing out into the horizon.

In the distance was a magnificent sight. Beyond the storm  was a large green mountain. It shone brightly in the a dazzling light and King could see activity all over its land. King could see shoots and branches stretch up eagerly to a bright warm sky which seemed to be raining gold. On approach the Mountain had millions of people heading towards it. King could even hear their happy voices from the doorway. The people were smiling, laughing and singing.

“What is that?” asked King?

“That is Paradise” said the Spirit of Rangers present.

“Heaven?, youre showing me Heaven?” said King.

“God no, if you will forgive the pun. Heaven isn’t that cheery. That’s Paradise, that’s the Spirit of Celtic you see there. Look at the Money mountain, see how it grows, look at the trees of opportunity sprout continuously,. See how happy the people are. See how the peoples true love means happiness for all. Love grows Love, everything else follows from Love. Do you understand Mr King?”

“Err I think so” replied King.

“Okay. Please kindly return to you seat, as we are now making our departure. The final spirit on your journey is currently on standby” said the stewardess.

King found himself once more lying in bed with his eyes growing heavy and the room fading to black.

“Sir, can you hear me sir?” asked a voice draped in panic and fear.

“What?” asked a bewildered King as he opened his eyes to take in the biggest surprise of the evening.

The room was just his bedroom. There was no mist. No Images. Nothing except a few vertical bands of white light next to black bands of darkness that seemed to cross the room. King assumed they were just moonlight hitting the bespoke African mahogany blinds.

King shrugged and just as he closed his eyes over he heard the voice once again.

“Sir, can you hear me sir” said a voice in what seemed to be a soft North Eastern English accent.

“Is there anyone there?” asked King into the darkness.

“WhyAye sir, I’m here. Don’t worry. I’m the Spirit of Rangers Future” said something and nothing all at the same time.

“But where are you?” asked King.

“Oh I’m here sir, just not with you. I’m part of you, but you’re not part of me, if you get my drift” said the voice.

“Not really, what’s happened?” asked King

“Err Spoilers and all that Sir,  but lets just say, your luck in court runs out eventually. I don’t want to say too much DIRECTly if you get my drift but the good news is your kids inheritance is safe” said the voice.

“But I never put it at risk” answered King

“Exactly sir, very wise that” said the voice.

“And the bad news” asked King.

“Well lets say, enjoy this hoose and get yourself a Kodi box. That’s as close as you will be getting to seeing Rangers any day soon” replied the darkness.

“But the plan?” queried King before stuttering “I was nearly there, so close”

“You werent Sir, were you?. Miles off to be honest and all it took was that one wee whisper about faulty Ibrox roof bolts and your proverbial house of cards collapsed. The roof never fell thank god but you had no money for immediate repairs so the big stand soon got closed by the Council. By then the SFA had got rid of the masonic cabal and you couldn’t then afford to rent out Hampden. After that the sponsors fled and then yet more and more court cases and EBT revelations came forward. You were lucky to get out Scott free, some of those other less savvy Directors are still paying Mr Ashley off. Understand?” said the spirit.

King felt his whole body slump and couldn’t even muster a reply.

“Okay sir, that’s your steak bake and pineapple cake done as we say here in greggsland. I’ll be off now but keep it all in mind eh. Still time to make changes and all that” said the fading voiceless spirit as once again Kings eyelids dropped and sleep came back upon him.
“Sir, sir” said a soft voice to the mans right.

Dave King awoke and found himself in his luxurious bedroom and his housemaid by his side. The room was bathed in warm South African sunshine and King looked at his watch. It read 11:00 and the date showed Dec 25.

“Merry Xmas” said King to his maid as he jumped out of bed smiling and seemingly with a renewed vigour.

The maid stammered back “Merry Xmas sir”. The maid couldn’t believe the civility given her employee was normally so cold and stern in her presence, especially over that last year or so.

“I take it that Sir had a pleasant evenings sleep?” asked the Maid as she set down his breakfast tray.

“The greatest night sleep ever” replied King before asking “Can you get my accountant on the phone please?”

The maid smiled and said “Of course” and reached for the phone. She had heard rumours that King would be investing overseas in his beloved Glasgow Rangers and this must be the day he would finalise the massive funds transfer.

The call connected and the maid said “One moment please” and held out the handset to the advancing King.

“Is Sir going to be front loading Rangers  to give the fans a merry Xmas Sir?” cheekily asked the Maid.

“Front load Rangers?, God no, they’re dead to me!” retorted King. “After what I saw last night, I’m gonna get as much money into Celtic and Sports Direct as I can, they don’t call me Davie Kerch-king for nothing you know!” shouted King as he took up the handset and then raced towards his study.

Meanwhile, across several Astral planes far far away, a wee sad man in a bunnet, a perma-smiled stewardess and a bunch of weary broken folk in chains all turned to each other, shrugged and softly said “Bugger!”