After his encounter with the ghosts, it wasn’t long before Scrooge gave away all his money. He was living in a gutter—cold, broke, and miserable. A poor gutterblood. Because of the way he had treated people during the many years before his “great transformation,” everyone was wary to help him, even skeptical of his sudden financial demise. “It must be a ploy,” they said, “for him to get even more money.” They shrank at his alms-seeking hands as if they were snakes about to strike. Thus he died penniless and alone. Nobody came to his funeral; not even Bob Cratchet. The moral of our sad story? ‘Tis best to “scrooge” a small sum aside, rather than give it all away, especially during the Great Recession of recent memory. Inscribed on his tombstone (at the expense of the benevolent society): Merry Christmas to all and to all a… b’ah, humbug.