The Muppet Christmas Carol - Subtitle

He shared his counting-house with his clerk, Bob Cratchit, a man whose kindness was as vast as his paycheck was tiny. Bob, who happened to be a frog of great character, shivered in the corner, trying to warm his hands over a single, flickering candle.

He sent a giant turkey to the Cratchits, more than enough to feed a dozen frogs. He gave a massive raise to Bob, and promised to help his family in every way he could. He went to Fred’s house and joined in the festivities, his laughter joining the chorus of joy.

Scrooge looked up from his ledger, his eyes two icy blue beads. "Coal? You want coal? To burn? To waste? Bah! Humbug! If you’re cold, wear a scarf. Or two. Or ten." subtitle The Muppet Christmas Carol

"Come, then," returned the nephew gaily. "What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You’re rich enough."

The Ghost of Christmas Present, a giant, jolly fellow surrounded by a feast of epic proportions, showed him the joy he was missing. He saw the Cratchit family, their small home filled with warmth and love, despite their poverty. He saw Tiny Tim, Bob’s youngest son, a brave little frog with a big heart, and he felt a pang of something he hadn’t felt in years: compassion. He shared his counting-house with his clerk, Bob

And from that day forward, it was said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man as the good old city knew. And as Tiny Tim observed, "God bless us, every one!"

In the drafty, cobblestoned heart of London, where the fog clung to the gaslights like a cold, wet wool coat, lived a man whose heart was a frozen pea. Ebenezer Scrooge was his name, and to say he was "mean" was like saying the sun was "a bit warm." He was a tight-fisted, squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner. He gave a massive raise to Bob, and

Finally, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, a silent, shrouded figure, showed him a future where his name was whispered with contempt, where his death was met with indifference, and where Tiny Tim’s seat at the table was empty.