FRANKENSTEIN: Well, it looks like everyone who’s going to show up is here. Might as well get started. Hello, all. My name is Frankenstein, but you can all call me Frank. This coming Friday is the 13th, so if you are feeling particularly misunderstood, don't hesitate to speak up. Would anyone like to begin with something to share?
Tales and adventures sprouted up all over the place wherever the wizard went, lies most, told to comfort the already lost. The wizard, his cloak gray as weathered bone, had not gone that way under The Hill for ages and ages. The curse of memory meant that most of them had forgotten what he looked like. He had been away over The Hill and across the water for a long time, a long time indeed. Those who were small once had gone, food for the earth much like what was under the wizard’s feet.
Marley was dead to begin with. Just another of the many corpses in this filthy city. Scrooge was Marley’s partner, but what did that add up to, when all was said and done? Nothing more than a plugged nickel. You could still make out the “Marley and” over the “Scrooge Investigations” on the cheap door to the dark office they shared once. Bobbi Cratchet had twice asked Scrooge if he wanted to scrape it off proper, class up the joint. But Scrooge would have none of it.
It has been a fair sight since I have made a video, has it not? I beg of you, do not expect these videos to arrive till they come, in which I think will only contribute to the ease of us both. Which is to say, welcome, I suppose. This is my channel. Where I talk about nothing of any possible importance.
It’s time for the drawing. “Now, let us begin, or we shall be here all day,” Rabbit says as he crosses to the glass ball with all the names, each roughly scrawled in crayon. Rabbit reaches in, digs his hand deep into the ball with a great rustling and bustling and pulls out a slip of paper.
“Let it not be me,” Winnie-the-Pooh says deep inside his fluff-filled head. “Think it over, think it under. Think it true. It’s not me. It’s not me.”