Comprobatio (com-pro-ba’-ti-o): Approving and commending a virtue, especially in the hearers.
“God bless us, everyone.” Tiny Tim was such an ass kisser, he was hoping that Scrooge would pay his college tuition. As far as he could see, his loser father was going nowhere, supervising a pack of rats at Scrooge’s accounting firm. Scrooge had had the crap scared out of him by an extended nightmare that, ironically, woke him up from being a the stingiest man in London.
Tiny Tim had been posing as a cripple for the past five years. It was part of an insurance scam that he had pulled on Royal Haulers, the King’s vegetable conveyance. He made it look like the cart ran over his foot. He got no insurance settlement, just a free crutch that he used to his advantage to display his infirmity and garner pity, worth a few pence. But Scrooge’s nightmare psychosis had made him ripe for conning.
Tiny had managed to get a check from Scrooge’s checkbook. He had filled it out for 50,000 pounds and was waiting for Scrooge’s signature. He couldn’t figure out how to pull the check scam off, so he decided to burglarize Scrooge’s apartment.
It was 2.00 am when he quietly broke in. Scrooge had curtains around his bed and he was carrying with Trollope Lil who lived next door. Scrooge had a pile of cash on his desk. Tiny stuffed it in the pillowcase he had brought along for that purpose. When he picked up the final 20 pound note a jingling bell went off. Scrooge came out from behind his bed curtains wearing only his night cap. “What are you up to, Tim?” Scrooge asked with an angry look on his face. Tim responded: “Sleepwalking.” It was all that Tim could think of and Scrooge bought it.
Tim made off with all of Scrooge’s cash and had to leave London as he was being hunted by the police. He move to Glasgow and bought a canned haggis factory: Scotty Mac’s Highland Haggis. Scrooge had a relapse and started saying “Humbug” again and fired Bob Cratchet. He hired his girlfriend in Cratchet’s place. She started a nearly undetectable embezzling scam. Her name was Belle. That was enough to blind Scrooge to her scam.
Tim made millions under the name of Ginnis McCorckle. He branched out into single malt scotch and became obsessed with the Loch Ness Monster, and was instrumental in the resurgence of the kilt. He was developing cellophane sticky tape when he died.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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