In a dark corner, Ebenezer Leej sits counting gold pieces and finishing off a crust of bread. MMario approaches and says "more bread, sir?" Leej gives him a phlegmatic look and snaps "is there a charge for it?" MMario blinks and says "ha'penny." Leej snarls "no more bread." He spits in the center of a gold sovereign and shines it on the sleeve of his greatcoat, holding it to catch the light. Up to the table, a garland of holly round his top hat, steps artbrooks, saying with bright good humor "a Merry Christmas to you Mr Leej!" but the old miser, flicking a moth off his moneybag, barks "Christmas! Humbug! Every fool who goes about with "a Merry Christmas" on his lips should be boiled in his own plum pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart!"

"Fine," replies artbrooks,'then go fuck yerself."

Leej is still searching for a clever rejoinder when every clock in the Mudcat Tavern begins to peel simultaneously. Suddenly, a clatter as of several hundred pounds of steel chain being dragged and dropped on the oaken floor outside the Tavern door hushes those inside. The door creaks open and there, amid a billowing cloud of mist produced by a fog machine he has plugged into the outlet on the front porch, stands a pale and ghastly figure cloaked in tattered raiment. The figure takes several lurching steps into the Tavern and by the light of the tallow candle, Leej makes out the hideous features, and says in solemn wonder "Peter T!"

"Ebenezer Leej," intones the specter. Leej continues "and have you been doomed to wander the earth, suffering most at this time of the rolling year?"

"You bet," says the ghost," and frankly I'm completely burned out on the entire process. Mind if I sit down?" Leej gestures to a stool and Peter T sits through it, crashing to the floor with a clamor of heavy chain." I somehow continue to overlook the fact my ass is completely unsubstantial," Peter T says, shaking his head in good natured disbelief. "In fact, I'm pretty much a figment of your imagination. You know, no more than a fragment of..of.." Leej finishes "an under-done potato?" The specter shakes its head "no..no, I was thinking mango. Maybe guava. Something tropical anyway. Anyhow, I'm here to offer you another chance."

"Chance? At what?"

"To experience the Spirit of Mudcat. Frankly, you're not listening to enough folk music."

"But what," replies Ebenezer Leej, "is "folk music" anyway?"

The grim figure stands bolt upright and howls hideously as Leej cowers in his chair. It extends a spectral, chain-decked arm and says "for the love of God, let's not get into that!" It turns amid the scraping of chain, money boxes, and several National Dobros across the floor, and says "you will be visited by three spirits this night. Expect the first at Midnight...the second as the the hour turns to One..and the third at the stroke of Two! Look to see me...no more." The figure vanishes through the door.

Leej reaches into his waistcoat pocket and with quivering fingers produces an ornate timepiece. "Gee. I wonder if he means Midnight Mudcat Time, or Mountain Standard..." The voice booms from beyond the door "now you're really starting to PISS me OFF!"

"Damn!" gulps Leej. "He's good."