"I'm the ghoooooooooost of Christmasssssssss-Yet-To-Cooooooom-ah." It wagged its finger like Joan Crawford waving a wire coat hanger.
"Christmas-Yet-To-Come?" EE repeated.
"That's what I said, Christmas-Yet-To-Come." The Ghost put both hands on its hips, rolled its eyes and struck a snotty pose.
"Well Christmas-Yet-To-Come, you look like the bitchy Real Housewife of New Jersey and you sound like Michael Musto with a sinus infection." EE scribbled rejected on a query, placed it in the out box and selected another.
"You're supposed to quiver in fear, beg."
"I fear you like a red-headed stepchild. You want the future? Start rejecting queries with a hearty, happy Ho-Ho-Ho." EE pushed his pince-nez up with one finger and marked another query. The ghost reached out and touched the query. The cellar glowed into brilliant whiteness and then faded to dank dungeon darkness; dirty gray file cabinets, cement block walls and crumbling desk. A light more worthy of being called a "dim bulb" cast a yellow pall over the stacks of queries reaching from floor to ceiling.
"This, is your future if you continue on this path!" The Ghost tugged at his new sackcloth robe. It chafed at his armpits and neck.
"Hey, no rats. The old cellar had rats and spiders, big hairy spiders."
The Ghost willed into existence the future where EE didn't reject queries. The earth shook. Dragons and demons waged war above them. Spandex-clad superheroes with huge muscles or heaving bosoms laid waste to the land. Nuclear mushroom clouds dotted the horizon and a meteor blazed overhead minutes from crashing.
"Shit!" the Ghost grumbled.
"Like I said before. Want to help? Start rejecting." EE said. The Ghost restored the rat- and spider- free cellar, selected a red pen and began rejecting queries.
"... a white pony, too."