In this satirical remix of Charles Dickens’ classic, A Christmas Story, Scrooge trades his counting house for crypto and his ghosts for Google Calendar.
Set in a tech-savvy condo, this poem explores what redemption might look like in the age of smart devices, emotional detachment and TikTok tenderness.
It’s a tale of cold stuffing, warm gestures and the glitchy grace of trying — because even in 2025, the spirit of Christmas still finds a way to log in:
Scrooge, Christmas Carol – 2025
This year, Scrooge lives in a Santa Barbara smart condo,
where blinds obey his voice but his heart
stays buffered searching for connection in airplane mode.
The fridge pings:
out of almond milk,
out of emotional bandwidth.
He’s traded his nightcap for a Peloton,
cycling toward nowhere, calories burned,
bridges unbuilt.
His counting house is crypto now,
and Marley’s ghost texts in all caps:
“BRO, YOU STILL DEAD INSIDE?”
Scrooge scrolls past GoFundMe pleas for rescue puppies,
pauses at a TikTok of a man dancing with his grandmother in a Walmart lot in Ventura,
then mutters, “Sentimentality is malware,”
and Venmos himself ten bucks for surviving another feeling-free moment.
He’s got a Ring camera to repel carolers,
an AI choir app that auto-sings carols in minor key,
and a subscription to Minimalist Wealth,
paired with maximalist loneliness.
His therapist Chad keeps saying,
“Let’s unpack that,”
as if joy were a carry-on he forgot to check and grief a TSA liquid over three ounces.
Scrooge suspects Chad is a chatbot in disguise.
Ghost of Past
Arrives not through walls but via calendar invite,
RSVP guilt attached.
Sepia slideshow: missed hugs,
cinnamon that stings like nostalgia,
plus one haunting Google Doc titled,
“Things You Could’ve Said.”
Ghost of Present
Push notification: “Your niece just posted Christmas cookies. You are not tagged.”
Muted Zoom laughter,
his square left blank.
DoorDash delivers cheer to neighbors,
while his condo echoes only with the hum of smart devices.
Ghost of Future
Hologram static: foreclosure notice flickering beside a smart tombstone scrolling:
“Here lies a man who optimized everything — except joy.”
A pop-up ad interrupts: “Grief meditation, 30% off. Limited time.”
Error message repeats: 404:
Joy Not Found.
At 3 a.m., Scrooge chews congealed stuffing under refrigerator light, whispering “sorry” to the coffee maker.
It blinks back:
“Error 401: Forgiveness Unauthorized.”
By morning, he’s donated to six charities,
texted his nephew a heart emoji,
and invited his personal sommelier to Christmas dinner.
He still doesn’t understand how love works — but he’s trying,
which is more than most algorithms can say.
And somewhere, in the cloud,
Marley smiles and updates his status:
“Redemption: still trending. #GhostGoals #JoyPatch #UpdateAvailable”