THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS FUTURE

And with that last word, the Ghost of Christmas Future appeared, looking like the Spectre of Death, very tall, wearing a hooded black cape and carrying a huge sickle.

George's knees were knocking in fear. "Who are you?"

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Future. Come with me; I want to show you something." The two of them floated above a gravesite at a cemetery.

"Did the U.S. soldier and the Iraqi Tiny Tim die in Iraq?"

"Yes," said the Ghost, "but this is not the grave of either of those."

"Well, whoever died, that person was not very popular. There's virtually nobody mourning by the gravesite."

"You're right. He led such a crass, selfish, greedy life -- never really bothered by the lies he told and the mayhem his arrogant policies caused -- that few mourned his departure from the world."

"That's sad. Nobody should die like that. I can't quite make out the name on the gravestone. Let me see. It looks like -- oh, no!" At which point, George collapsed to his knees.

"I tried to live a good life," George croaked, aiming his words to Heaven. "I accepted Jesus Christ into my heart. I stopped using drugs and drinking. Well, mostly. I ran my campaign on the theme of compassion."

"I hear you using the word 'compassion' and you talk of it often, but I've never seen you express it in your behavior, your policies. If you really want to help your nation's troops in uniform abroad and Tiny Tim and all those suffering in America and the world, you would have to try to wipe out the twin scourages of Want and Ignorance -- in other words, work to bring about justice and peace and true education."

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