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] No goose for Tiny Tom this year. Ebenezer Blackadder
: Mrs. Scratchit, Tiny Tom is fifteen stone and built like a brick privy. If he eats anymore heartily, he will turn into a pie shop.
: Ah, Mr. Ebenezer! I was wondering if you had perhaps a little present for me...? or had found me a little fowl for Tiny Tom's Christmas...? Ebenezer Blackadder
: I've always found you 'foul,' Mrs. Scratchit - and more than a little! As for Tiny Tom's Christmas: he can stuff it up his enormous muscular backside.
: I think I know who sent it. Cratchit children
: Who? Who? Tiny Tim
: Mr. Scrooge. Mrs. Cratchit
: Oh! dear, oh dear! Whatever made you think it might be him? Tiny Tim
: I don't know. I just think it.
: [talking about Scrooge and Christmas
] He'll be about as merry as a graveyard on a wet Sunday.
[the Ghost of Christmas Present bursts into laughter
: [about Scrooge
] He threw a bucket of freezing water on our Tim, that's what he did! No wonder the poor child's pneumonia is back.
: Hush my dear, tears cannot bring Tiny Tim back to us. Ebenezer Scrooge
: No! Not Tiny Tim!