A/N: This was basically inspired by Scrooged, a modern day version of Charles Dickens' immortal classic A Christmas Carol…But anyways, from that comes…*Drumroll*
A CHRIStmas Carol!
He won't be meeting his "Ghosts" in order of appearance, but regardless.

Enjoy! And happy holidays!

An elderly Chris McLean hobbled down the streets of the busy Rodeo drive, almost tripping over the young man at his feet.

"Hey, man, spare some change, eh?"

He looked down just in time to see a worn-down-looking Ezekiel, hands wrapped around the ex-host's ankles.

"Ezekiel?! What are you doing?" He shouted, kicking his frail legs slightly.

"I'm broke, man! I've been begging here for years!"

"Not my fault. Leave me alone." Chris grumped, finally getting his foot high enough to kick the poor beggar in the face, waddling off.

"It's Christmas eve, eh?"

"Don't care, 'zekiel."

He flipped open the door to his favourite store and began to flip through the products when a certain moonchild tapped him on the shoulder.

"Chris? Is that you? Merry Christmas!"

"You know what? Bah, humbug!"

"Oh! I'm sorry, Chris! I should have known why there wasn't any Christmas cheer in your aura!"

"Whatever, freak. Now I can't even go shopping in peace! You all suck! Stupid Christmassy do-gooders…"

As the old man left the store, he bounced right back in in the blink of an eye. He frowned and looked up to see a middle-aged Owen standing before him.

"Alexander the great, is that you Chris McLean?! Great to see you again, buddy!"

Before Chris knew it, he'd been pulled into a bone-crushing hug by the friendly giant.

"Oh man, it's Christmas eve, Chris! Isn't it awesome?!"

"Owen, put me down."

The chubby buddy obliged.

"Can't everybody just leave me alone?!"

He whipped out his cell phone and called his personal assistant.

"Noah, come pick me up. Now."

Despite being of genius-level IQ, Noah never managed to get a better job than being Chris' assistant. It was hard enough to get Chris to take him back, let alone to get enough of a raise to do anything.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-Later that evening-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"So Chris tomorrow is…"

"Tuesday."

"…Yes, but the date is"

"December 25th"

"Yeah. So…see you Thursday, then!"

"…You want the day off?"

"Yeah. Thanks for the offer!"

"You can have it off. Just know you're not getting paid for time off. You can also have the 26th, 27th and…well, the rest of your life off, too."

"Come on, Chris…it's Christmas. Chris-tmas. You should be all for it! The gifts, the sales-"

"The annoying music, the stupid carollers, the overly-happy brats. Yes, what's not to love?"

Noah sighed. This was going to be impossible.

"Chris, I have a family thing."

Chris sighed back.

"Fine. Take the day off. But I'm not giving you money for nothing. You better be here early Wednesday."

"Will do. Bye, Chris!" he called, throwing in "And merry Christmas" just to bother the man.

"WHATEVER!"

And, with that, he went back to making an attempt to find something that would still apply to the old contestants, with him not having any new money coming in. He was down to a couple millions after the years of success in the Total Drama franchise.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-Even later that evening-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Chris managed to get himself up the front steps to his villa and through his front door before collapsing into his old loveseat. His poor knees couldn't handle this every day. He pulled his legs onto the cushion next to him, paling and nearly weeping from the pain from the years of neglect. He'd never been the most active of folks. Not in the legs, anyway. He'd done the bare minimum to keep fans interested in him, but now he was nothing to them. Nothing but a memory.

He stopped for a moment, believing to hear a noise. It almost sounded like a voice. A familiar one.

No, it can't be... he thought to himself.

But there it was again, and the clanking of metal.

Chris was an old man, and a weak one at that, but adrenaline filled him enough to get him standing and holding a heavy lamp for protection.

"Who's there?!"

"OKAY, LISTEN MAGGOT, IF YOU THINK YOU'RE GONNA HIT ME WITH THAT-"

Chris nearly fainted. There was no denying whose voice that was. He dropped the lamp, causing it to land on his aching feet. He fell to the ground, waiting for his old friend to reveal himself.

To be continued in chapter 2…