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©2008-2009 *radical-jojo
:iconradical-jojo:

Artist's Comments

"Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind- stone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dogdays; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.

External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often "came down" handsomely, and Scrooge never did.

Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see me?" No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place, of Scrooge. Even the blind men's dogs appeared to know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they said, "No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!"

But what did Scrooge care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call "nuts" to Scrooge."


A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
art (c) J. E. Seames 2008
(Please do not copy, alter, or redistribute this image in any means. Stealing is not in the spirit of Christmas.)

Comments


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:iconinkwell3:
I like your take on the character! Gotta love those limbs.

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ArtWebsite [link]
:iconemperornortonii:
Nice! I like your rendition!

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If we can't laugh, then our enemies win!
:iconradical-jojo:
Thank you!

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Dead Squirrel Comics...You know you wanna click that. You know you wanna click that, click that.
:iconradical-jojo:
Thanks! :D

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Dead Squirrel Comics...You know you wanna click that. You know you wanna click that, click that.
:iconradical-jojo:
Thanks, Jeff!

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Dead Squirrel Comics...You know you wanna click that. You know you wanna click that, click that.
:iconcivilisedwookie:
Ah, Scrooge. The man I quote every christmas. "Bah! Humbug!"

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Man is no more than a conduit for excrement to pass through.- daVinci.
:iconradical-jojo:
:XD:

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Dead Squirrel Comics...You know you wanna click that. You know you wanna click that, click that.
:iconmistytang:
Heeheehee. This made me giggle.
Really, really awesome interpretation of Scrooge!! :+fav: Hehe, I love his stick-legs and boney hands! X3

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When a man lies, he murders some part of the world.

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December 12, 2008
183 KB
183 KB
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