(Scene starts with HumanityCritic sitting on his couch with his hands down his shorts ala Al Bundy, drinking whiskey, quickly changing channels)
HumanityCritic: Fuck man! Christmas commercials, specials, movies, I can't escape!! Fuck Christmas, another reason for countless saps to empty their wallets, evil fucks to promote gross materialism, and other social ills under the guise of Love and family. Hogwash I say!!!
(HumanityCritic drops his pants, gets his best hand lotion, and pops in a porno entitled "Santa Drawls", and says..."
HumanityCritic: Time to get the good old holiday spirit all over this towel!!
(As HC beats himself like his testicles had an expiration date on them, or like his genitalia owed him money, he fell asleep right at the part of the film where Santa and the elves start to gang-bang Mrs. Claus. He looks peaceful sleeping the way he is, kind of like a Norman Rockwell painting, that's if he wasn't gripping an erect penis.)
(Minutes later, HC is awakened to a loud rumbling sound, which at first he thinks is an earthquake, but finally he comes to the conclusion that its a burglar. HC quickly wipes the lotion off of his hands, grabs the loaded 380 off of his Mahatma Gandhi nightstand, and does some investigating. When he opens up the door to pump that unfortunate burglar full of lead, he is met with a gigantic smoke cloud and notices a crusty ass dead figure emerging from it.)
HC: Lord, help me!! Awww!(fires multiple shits into object) Take that motherfucker!!
Crusty Dead object: You are just wasting your bullets..
HumanityCritic: Who are you, and what do you want??
Mr. Mercer: It's your old boss, Elliot Mercer in the flesh..
HumanityCritic: Or not in the flesh. You're dead!!
Mr. Mercer: No shit, Really?? I thought my decayed body, my breath that smells like Lil Kim's crotch, and the insects that made a permanent home in my asshole were a dead giveaway!!
HumanityCritic: OK, what in the fuck do you want with me??
Mr. Mercer: I came here to tell you something very important.
HumanityCritic: Tell me what, the benefits of being worm food?
Mr. Mercer: Still the asshole I see, I hope that's working for you. No idiot, I really came to warn you, you don't want to end up like me do you??
HC: What are you talking about Mercer? You were the fucking man, continuous ass, people were scared shitless of you.. Didn't you die fucking???
Mr. Mercer: Hee-Hee, I sure did. Critic, that pretty young thing had an ass that you could balance a glass on man!! Uh-hem, that's not the point though. I did get more ass than a toilet seat, very true, but my biggest regret was not having anyone to truly love, no wife or kids to give my heart to.
HC: Bor-ing! Does death turn everyone into Pussies, spouting off dialogue from a goddamned Lifetime movie??
Mr. Mercer: Listen Jerk-off, when I died I angered so many people and burned bridges that there were only 5 people at my funeral and one was the preacher and two worked at the graveyard!! Why weren't you there??
HC: Well, I..
Mr. Mercer: You were in an emotional tailspin weren't you, not wanting to come to grips that your mentor passed, right?
HC: Actually, I didn't want to miss the opening of "Chasing Amy" to be totally honest.
Mr. Mercer: BASTARD!!!! Anyway, tonight you will be visited by three ghosts..
HC: Ghosts!! (reloading gun) 3 more motherfuckers like you??
Mr. Mercer: No, I'm a walking rotten ant farm. The ghosts will look as human as you, pull your skirt up.
HC: What kind of ghosts?? Like Dorothy Dandridge, that would be hot. Or Marilyn Monroe, she sure had a rack on her.(begins to pitch a tent)
Mr. Mercer: Fucking perv!! Don't worry what they'll look like, it will be relative to your interests and that god forsaken blog that you have. I'm outta here!!!
(Mr. Mercer disappears out of thin air, leaving the room smelling like 1000 ass-cracks. HC spends the next few minutes vacuuming Mr. Mercer's corpse flakes out of his carpet, and proceeds to light candles and burn incense to get that "Death ass" scent out of his crib. He then falls asleep)
(HC goes to see who is at the door)
HC:(Opens the door, wiping eyes): Wait a minute, what are you doing here??
Unidentified Man: You've seen enough renditions of this Charles Dickens tale to know who the fuck I am. I am the ghost of Christmas past!
HumanityCritic: Rakim?? (forcefully hugs Rakim) I'm your biggest fan man!!
Rakim: (pushing HumanityCritic off him) Let go of me you fucking stalker, you know we have a trip to take. Are you ready?
HC: Yeah, but like a breast reduction, let me get something off my chest first. (Grabs a soap box, stands on it, throws an arm around Rakim, and addresses the blog readers with the following Diatribe) Ladies and gentleman, this man right here is by far the greatest rapper of all time, hands down. I love Pac and Biggie, but anyone that puts those men above Rakim should be on the business end of a public caning, thrown in a Mexican prison, or some other random form of punishment that fits the idiocy spewed out by those unenlightened individuals. I don't give a flying fuck how many tribute albums Puffy or Death Row records can regurgitate, Rakim is by far, the greatest rapper of all time. You motherfucking got that??
Rakim: Are you done?
Rakim: I appreciate the love but we gotta go!
(Suddenly a 75 pinto arrives in front of HC's house)
Rakim: You all set?
HC: Hey, I thought by the shitload of Christmas movies that I have seen in my day, that we were supposed to magically arrive and witness one of my old Christmases. What's up with the hooptie?
Rakim: The company I work for is simply out of funds dude, when we did this same thing for Dick Cheney last year it put us in the hole big time. Just get in and shut up, the ride isn't that bad. Got any gas money??
HC: Jesus, yeah..
(After a severely bumpy ride, with the vehicle being flipped in various directions, the 75 pinto arrives in Virginia Beach Virginia, 1983)
Rakim:(Stepping out of the car) We're here!
HC:(stumbling out of the car, throwing up) Blaaaaaaa..
Rakim:(Shaking his right foot) Watch the Puma's you asshat!! Take a look around, this is your old hood.
(They both walk around HC's old neighborhood)
HC:(pointing) That's my friend Bobby's house, we were tight as kids. That is Ms. Davidson's house, I remember after I cut her grass one summer she made me touch her breasts.
HC:(pointing) Right there is Ms. Thompson's old house, she gave me 20 dollars once to wash her car with my shirt off. (pointing in a different direction) Right there is Ms. Shirley's house, she one time touched my..
Rakim: Enough with the molestation stories!! You are in therapy right?
Rakim: Good, here's your house.
(They both look into HC's old house, where they see him as a happy 10 year old opening presents amongst his family)
HC: Oh shit, I remember this Christmas, there I am getting a shitload of He-Man men!!
Rakim: I always thought He-Man played for the pink team honestly.
HC: Sure he did, the leather and skimpy outfits, but you are talking to a guy who still listens to Culture Club and digs show tunes.(Looks back in the window) There is my sister, brother, my mom, where's my pop at?
(HC's father comes in the room, pissed that he just stepped on a homoerotic action figure)
Father: Goddamn you HC, I didn't buy those toys for you to leave them lying around everywhere you stupid son of a bitch! You know what, you ain't ever going to be shit, you're worthless!! Go to your fucking room before I hit you in the face with this belt!
(Rakim and HC see the 10 year old version of HumanityCritic run off to his room)
Rakim:(Turning to HC) You ain't going to cry are you??
HC:(smirking) Of course not,(pounds chest) I'm all man baby!! (turns around and wipes a tear)
Rakim: It's OK, like a prostitute who gives Santa free blow-jobs each year for gifts, Christmas left a bad taste in your mouth. Over the years you have tried to act festive, but secretly you loathed Christmas and we have to change that. We gotta get back.
(The Pinto arrives and they head back to HC's house)
Rakim: This is where I say Goodbye, there will be two more ghosts appearing tonight so be looking out for the doorbell!!
HC: OK(Throws arm around Rakim and turns to the blogging Universe) Greatest Rapper Of all Time, I don't give a fuck how many Biggie and Tupac albums come from the depths of people's ass. The best!
Rakim: Should I get a restraining order?? But thanks.(Turns to the blog world) Be looking out for my next album, I am the ghost of Christmas past but I ain't dead motherfucker!!
(After Rakim leaves, HC sits on his couch and begins to smoke a very big spliff. He figures that the whole experience will be better high. Then all of a sudden someone starts knocking on his door like they lost their motherfucking mind, screaming "Open up bitch!")
HC:(opening door) Have you lost your fucking mind,... Shit, you are the ghost of Christmas present?
End of Part 1