WING AND A PRAYER PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS:



A TWILIGHT ZONE CHRISTMAS









by Jon "Please don't sue me for copyright infringement" Davidson

 

[EXTERIOR SHOT: DOWNTOWN. A MAN IN A SANTA SUIT IS SHAMBLING ALONG, REACHES BUILDING ON CORNER AND LEANS AGAINST IT AS HE STOPS TO REST. HE PULLS OUT FLASK AND TAKES A DRINK, THEN PUTS IT AWAY AS HE COUGHS. HE WALKS UP STEPS INTO BUILDING, WHICH IS REVEALED TO BE MACYíS DEPARTMENT STORE. CAMERA PANS LEFT TO REVEAL ROD SERLING IN FOREGROUND, LOOKING AT SANTA ENTER BUILDING. HE TURNS BACK TO CAMERA.]

SERLING: Submitted for your approval: a Christmas story. But not just any Christmas story. The story of one manís journey through the purgatory of public access television on a one-way sleigh ride into: The Twilight Zone. [SHORT SFX OF TWILIGHT ZONE SCORE. TITLE APPEARS: A TWILIGHT ZONE CHRISTMAS.]

[CUT TO: INTERIOR SHOT - DEPARTMENT STORE. CAMERA PANS PAST CHRISTMAS TREE TO LINE OF CHILDREN WAITING IN LINE TO SEE SANTA, SEATED UNSTEADILY IN A LARGE CHAIR ON A PLATFORM. KRINGLE, A MAN IN HIS LATE FORTIES APPEARS AS A RATHER DECRIPIT-LOOKING SANTA, WITH A DIRTY BEARD AND AN UNHAPPY-LOOKING GIRL ON HIS LAP. CUT TO CLOSE TWO-SHOT OF SANTA AND GIRL]

GIRL: My mommy says I can't have a doll because I was bad. But you don't think I'm bad, do you Santa?

SANTA: Of course not. What could a little girl like you possibly do that would be so bad?

GIRL: Well, there was the time I pushed my grandmother down the stairs to get the Christmas tree ornament she promised me when she died, and then there was the time I talked my little brother into hiding in the oven when I turned on the gas ... My mommy thinks those were both accidents. I didn't want to do it, but they wouldn't give me what I wanted. You believe me, don't you, Santa?

SANTA: Well, uh, I...

GIRL: I promise I won't do anything bad for the rest of the year if you give me the new Barbie dreamhouse collection, OK, Santa? Mommy says it costs too much, but I'm going to do whatever I have to to get it.

SANTA: Uh, I'm sure I can think of something that will...

[CUT TO MEDIUM SHOT. GIRL'S MOTHER COMES IN FROM CAMERA RIGHT DURING CONVERSATION, A NERVOUS, WORRIED-LOOKING WOMAN].

MOTHER: Stacie, we have to go now, thank the nice man and let's go.

GIRL: (Gets up, turns back to Santa. Too sweetly): Thank you, Santa. I know you won't let me down.

SANTA: (laughs nervously). Ho Ho Ho, merry Christmas. [CUT TO CLOSEUP OF SANTA] (Under breath). Ho-Ho-ohh, Jesus. Kids today...(takes out flask from coat and takes a quick drink - puts flask back and coughs). Ok...next! [CAMERA PULLS BACK TO MEDIUM SHOT OF SANTA. Angry-looking young boy with the attitude of GI Joe gets on his lap]

SANTA: And what's your name, little boy?

BOY: Wilson. Thomas. Age eight. Long Hill Elementary School.

SANTA: Uh, and what do you want for Christmas?

BOY: I want the GI Joe One Man Army outfit with grenade launcher and bandoleer bullets. I also want the ninja outfit with real throwing daggers and Hangman's Noose.

SANTA: (Trying to be a good sport) Let me guess, I'll bet your dad is a soldier.

BOY: No, he's a corporate lawyer. I never see him.

SANTA: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, son.

BOY: That's ok, how else could he afford to buy me all that stuff'?

SANTA: Oh, but Santa brings toys at Christmas time.

BOY: Save it, will ya? I know there's no such thing as Santa Claus. I just do this to please my dad. Just tell him what I want, ok?

SANTA: Well, ok, son, but just between you and me ... there's more to life than toys, you know.

BOY: You're right. Someday I'm going to have real guns and real bullets and a real grenade launcher!

SANTA: I don't think you really want...

BOY: You know something? You smell funny.

SANTA: Well, I'm sorry, son, it's a little warm in here for Santa. I'm used to the North Pole, you know.

BOY: No, you smell like my dad does on weekends.

SANTA: Oh, that's just Santa's cologne.

BOY: No, it's Jim Beam whisky. I know. I watch my dad at night when he's yelling at my mom. He pulls the bottle out from under the couch. (He jumps off Santa's lap. CAMERA PULLS BACK TO REVEAL STORE MANAGER WHO HAS COME IN AND WATCHES THEM IN ANNOYED SILENCE.)

SANTA: Well, I don't know what to say, son, I guess it's time for Santa to go home to the North Pole and take a bath.

MANAGER: No, it's time for Santa to come with me to my office. Your replacement's here. I'm starting him early tonight.

SANTA: But I only have a few more minutes...

MANAGER: I don't care. Come with me, "Santa." (Turns and walks out).

[CUT TO MANAGER'S OFFICE. MANAGER SITS BEHIND DESK AS SANTA STANDS, SOMEWHAT UNSTEADILY, LOOKING DISORIENTED AND UNCOMFORTABLE.]

MANAGER: Kringle, I've had it with you. It was bad enough when you showed up at Easter in a stained bunny suit, and I was able to put up with it when you came dressed as a Thanksgiving Turkey with most of your feathers missing, but this has gone far enough!

SANTA: I'm sorry, Mr. Hengist, you're right, I've got no excuse. I'm just a...

MANAGER: I don't want to hear it, Mr. Kringle. I guess I should blame myself. I was trying to save a few dollars by hiring crack addicts and drunks to play Santas for Macy's this year. But even the crackheads have been behaving better than you have, Kringle!

SANTA: I'm sorry, Mr. Hengist, I don't know what to say, I...

MANAGER: How many times have I told you, if you're going to booze it up, do it after work! And keep your blood alcohol level below 2.0! What do you think we give these breathalyzers out for! (Picks up a breathalyzer kit he has on desk and shakes it at him).

[CUT TO: BATHROOM. FOUR OR FIVE DECREPIT-LOOKING SANTAS ARE INSIDE DOING DRUGS, BOOZING IT UP, AND SNIFFING COCAINE. ONE OF THEM IS LEAVING A BATHROOM STALL TAKING A RUBBER TUBE OFF HIS ARM.]

SANTA II: Oh, man, I can't wait until the holidays are over. Playing Santa isÖ just too weird.

SANTA III: I know. If I get one more kid asking me for the Johnny Flametorch outfit I'm gonna puke on 'em. I can hardly wait to get back to the street.

SANTA IV: It's getting pretty cold outside, man. I don't think you want to get back to the street any time soon.

SANTA III: I'm going to try to talk them into letting me keep the suit. At least it's warm.

SANTA V: (Finishing snorting cocaine.) Check me. Am I showing?

SANTA II: Yeah, just a little right there.

SANTA V: (Wipes off his nose.): Well, back to spreading the joy of Christmas. Let's go.

SANTA II: Oh, God (Belches). Here we go.

[THE SANTAS FILE OUT EXCEPT FOR SANTA V, WHO IS PUTTING AWAY HIS STASH. KRINGLE DRAGS IN LOOKING DEPRESSED.]

SANTA V: What's the matter, Kringle? You look a little down. You been doing too many Ďludes?

SANTA: No, I just got fired by the boss. I gotta go back to the street.

[LATER, OUTSIDE. SANTA IS STILL IN HIS OUTFIT, BOOZING IT UP, LOOKING DEPRESSED. FROM CAMERA LEFT WE SEE A FIGURE IN AN IMMACULATE SANTA OUTFIT FROM BEHIND - JUST HIS BOOTS AND GLOVES. HE SPEAKS IN A JOLLY, BOOMING VOICE.]

VOICE: What's the matter, son?

SANTA: What's the matter. What's the matter. What isn't the matter? I live in a crappy world, there's misery all around me, I'm a no-good old drunk, and I just got fired because I couldn't go eight lousy hours without getting soused. That's what's the matter. Got any other bright questions for me?

VOICE: Well, son, I know things look down, but I don't think that's the whole problem. Something else is bothering you. You can tell me. What is it?

SANTA: How would you know? I don't know. I'm tired. I'm just tired. I'm tired of treading water. I'm tired of life. I'm tired of getting kicked in the head by the police. I'm tired of getting video-taped getting kicked in the head by the police, and not even getting any royalties from Hard Copy. I'm tired of taking handouts and living on welfare. I wish I could be something more than just an old drunk playing an old drunk on a pubic access channel. I just... I just wish I could...

VOICE: What, son?

SANTA: I wish I could be the one doing the giving. I'd do a hell of a lot better job than the real Santa!

VOICE: What do you mean, son?

SANTA: I'd give people what they need to be happy, not what they want that they think will make them happy. (Amazed at his own philosophizing) Where'd the hell that come from?

VOICE: Hmm, that's very interesting. Well, I'll tell you what, son, I'm going to give you a chance to do exactly what you want. Here. (Throws him big full sack, which lands next to him on the ground.)

SANTA: What's all this? What am I supposed to do with this?

VOICE: Just open the sack. The rest will take care of itself. See you later, son, and...Merry Christmas! Ho-ho-ho!

SANTA: Yeah, merry Christmas to you too, you drugged-out old nut. Geez, what a fruitcake. Well, let's see what's in this sack. Maybe there's something to eat ... (Looks in the sack).

[CAMERA pans right to Rod Serling, putting the finishing touches on a weird-looking snowman]

ROD SERLING: Little does Kris Kringle know that what awaits him in the sack is nothing less than... The Twilight Zone. [PAN TO CLOSEUP OF SNOWMANíS WEIRD FACE AND DISTORTED SMILE.]

COMMERCIAL BREAK




[SCENE OPENS AGAIN, WITH ROD SERLING MAKING A SNOW ANGEL IN THE SNOW. HE GETS UP.]

Let's see how Kris Kringle is enjoying himself in ... The Twilight Zone. (SFX: OMINOUS MUSIC AS CAMERA FOCUSES ON SNOW ANGEL).

[Several famous people show up needing special gifts. He gives the Democratic Party a legitimate candidate, Bush either a brain or a heart (or both) Madonna some talent, etc. Finally he uses up sack.]

SANTA: Well, that's that. Wouldn't it be great if I could do this again next year? Yeah. That'd be my gift. Oh, well...

[SFX: SLEIGH BELLS RINGING. HE LOOKS AND SEES A SLEIGH WITH REINDEER, AND A LITTLE ELF SITTING ON THE SLEIGH.]

ELF: Time to go back to the North Pole, Santa.

SANTA: What? What're you saying?

ELF: Time to go back to the North Pole. You're Santa now.

SANTA: I am? You..you really mean it?

ELF: Of course. There's always a Santa. And someday you'll pick someone else to be Santa.

SANTA: That's.. thatís amazing. OK. Let's go!

(Gets into sleigh and they are pulled off camera left.)

[CUT TO: SHOT OF WIND BLOWING, SNOW FLYING BY ELF AND SANTA IN SLEIGH.]

ELF: Just a little further, Santa. We're almost to the North Pole. Let's turn on the radio for the weather report!

[Turns on radio. SFX of HIGH-PITCHED WHINE AND STATIC, THEN VOICE COMES ON]

VOICE: And now the weather report, a moderate temperature drop to 120 degrees below zero here at Santa's home, not including the wind chill factor, which should bring it to a brisk 180 degrees below zero. Brrr! So to those of you out there flying tonight, be sure to bundle up! And now, some holiday music from Santa's Elves! (Sound of Jingle Bells comes on, playing softly).

SANTA: This is wonderful! I can't believe I'm really flying to the North Pole! It's wonderful! (Pause) My ... itís ... it's really brisk, isn't it? It's..oh boy, Itís cold, isn't it? It's so cold. It's... it's freezing! Oh Lord... it's freezing! It's freezing cold!

ELF (Seemingly unaffected by the arctic temperature, innocently): Gosh. What's the matter, Santa? (On "Santa", short SFX of OMINOUS MUSIC)

SANTA: It's cold... it's so cold ... it's cold!.... Ohh! Ohh! Ohhhh!

[SANTA HUGS HIMSELF AND SHIVERS VIOLENTLY AS SLEIGH FLIES INTO THE FROZEN HELL THAT IS THE NORTH POLE. MERRY SOUND OF SLEIGH BELLS AS SLEIGH MOVES OFF CAMERA LEFT. CAMERA CONTINUES TO PAN RIGHT TO ROD SERLING STANDING IN SNOW WITH A LITTLE RED CAP ON, SMILING. HE IS LOOKING UP AT THE DISAPPEARING SLEIGH, AND TURNS TOWARD CAMERA.]

SERLING: A note: to all prospective Santas - dress warmly. Because you never know when you might actually be entering the North Pole, or... the Twilight Zone. Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night. A holiday wish from... The Twilight Zone.


[AS CREDITS ROLL, AND THE THEME OF TWILIGHT ZONE PLAYING, WE SEE A FREEZE FRAME PICTURE OF SANTA LOOKING SHOCKED, WITH FROST COVERING HIS FACE AND HAIR, AND ICICLES HANGING OFF OF HIS NOSE AND CHIN. HIS EYES ARE WIDE IN FROZEN SURPRISE. AFTER END OF THEME A FEW NOTES FROM JINGLE BELLS ARE HEARD. FADEOUT.]

END.


With apologies to Mr. Serling, wherever he is...


Back to Comedy Sketches.

Back to the main page, bwan.