It’s a Wonderful Christmas Story, Buddy!
By Michael M. Jessup

Summary:	This is a tribute to several classic Christmas movies with a twist. Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Elf, A Christmas Story, and It’s a Wonderful Life. Susan is searching for the true meaning of Christmas, and after visiting the lives of classic movie characters, realizes that Christmas is really a relationship with Christ. Could be used as a sequel to Making Room. 

Cast
Joyce:		A tough, aggressive, ex-felon with a big heart. 
Susan:	Susan: A middle-aged woman, easily stressed.
Tom:	Susan’s husband -- wants a quiet and peaceful Christmas.
Anoria:	Aristrocratic, health guru relative.
Buddy:	Inspired by Buddy in Elf. Buddy is excessively happy and loves Santa.
Josh:	Josh is Buddy’s cynical co-worker.
Ralphie:	Inspired by Ralphie in, A Christmas Story. Ralphie has a talent for creating chaos wherever he goes.
Mrs. Parker:	Ralphie’s mother. She often is at a loss of what to do with Ralphie.
Mr. Potter:	Inspired by the greedy banker in, It’s a Wonderful Life. 
George:	Inspired by the externally optimistic George Bailey in, It’s a Wonderful Life.
Narrator:
Voice of God:
As written, cast requires 4 W, 6 M; 2 W/M. The Narrator and Voice of God could be played by either women or men. 
 
Duration:	Approximately 1 hour. 

Script
Scene 1

NARRATOR: [voice only. Stage is black]
In the sixth month of Elizabeth's pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to the Galilean village of Nazareth to a virgin engaged to be married to a man descended from David. His name was Joseph, and the virgin's name, Mary. Upon entering, Gabriel greeted her: ‘Good morning! You're beautiful with God's beauty, beautiful inside and out! God be with you.’ She was thoroughly shaken, wondering what was behind a greeting like that. But the angel assured her, "Mary, you have nothing to fear. God has a surprise for you: You will become pregnant and give birth to a son and call his name Jesus. He will be great, be called 'Son of the Highest.' The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David; He will rule Jacob's house forever— no end, ever, to his kingdom.” [LIGHTS ON, TOM AND SUSAN ENTER] 
TOM:
Susan, I am so excited. This is going to be the best Christmas ever. Do you know why? [LOUDER] Do you know why? 
SUSAN:
[SULLEN AND DEPRESSED] Let me guess? Brad Pitt and Angelina adopted six more children. High School Musical 3 will be on for twelve straight days. A plain, simple cup of black coffee at Starbucks is down to the same price as a gallon of gas? Harry Potter . . .
TOM:
Don’t say it, don’t say it. Don’t spoil it for me. One day I may want to read the whole series, and I don’t want you to ruin it for me. 
SUSAN:
Tom, the last book you read was during the Carter administration. Comic books and Sports Illustrated don’t count. Face it, your Pizza Hut Book It card expired during the fall of the Berlin Wall. You mean to tell me you are going to read all seven Harry Potter books. 
TOM:
It could happen. Ho Ho Ho. Okay Santa’s little oaf, you are just full of the Christmas spirit. This year, we have the true meaning of Christmas. I am so excited – the perfect Christmas – peace and quiet. Silent night, all is calm, all is bright; we don’t have any psychos here tonight! I want to be that Christmas carol. Last Christmas, Gotham city was quieter. Would have scared the Grinch right out of Whoville. Do you remember last Christmas? First, my mother shows up, and she’s become a poster child for AARP -- all happy and “normal.” Scary, very scary. Oh yeah, then your aristocratic, hypochondriac, vegemetinvitamen girl with her magic juicing machine shows up. She gives mental illness a bad name. And her poor husband – oh, Max the Mute – let’s hope he married her only for her money. And then your shoplifting, car stealing, Gone in Sixty Seconds cousin with her jail bate husband number 12 drops by, or should I say escapes, for a visit. FYI: Handcuffs and leg shackles do not make good stocking stuffers. And six squad cars with their lights on on Christmas Eve does not help you win the neighborhood Christmas spirit award. Then the sewer backs up and then your long lost thought-you-were dead brother shows up. Susan, let’s just be happy with the simple fact that it didn’t turn into an episode of Law and Order: Christmas Unit. There were no homicides in this very house last Christmas, and that truly was a miracle on this Elm Street. Not even Jerry Springer would do a show on this family last Christmas. But not this year. No, it’s going to be nice and quiet. No long-lost relatives, no juice made from cow saliva, no stolen cars, and certainly no trips to the jail. Simple, stress-free, and quiet, with football, lots of football. That twenty-four hour marathon of The Christmas Story sounds pretty good too. And I can shower and pass gas whenever I want. With great power comes the remote control.
SUSAN:
Tom, you have to admit, it did have a happy ending. I discovered that God loves us so much, so much that He gave His only son, He forgave me, and He cleansed my years of pain and bitterness. And I renewed my relationship with my long lost brother. Not to mention your mother made it to the 1980s, workers at the Mill Valley Correctional Facility for Woman have new job security, our pharmaceutical stock increased dramatically in value, and you could unload pounds of expired chocolate. Won’t you miss all that excitement and activity a little bit?
TOM
Susan, despite that forgiveness and “religious” stuff, it wasn’t a Normal Rockwell moment. Iraq was more peaceful. I’m just happy this year is going to be different. Anyway, you seem a little down, despondent, depressed, melancholy. . .
SUSAN:
Enough, I get the picture. I just can’t get in the Christmas spirit. Is it really that noticeable?
TOM:
Susan, need I remind you that you almost got “evicted” from Wal-mart for yelling at the employee of the month.
SUSAN:
Well, they should not put bathing suits next to the nativity scenes. Tom, they put up the Christmas stuff in August. They put the sunscreen next to the Christmas cards. That should be illegal. People should be punished. 
TOM:
Susan, you “accidentally” ran over the plastic Rudolph at the bank last week. You took a blow dryer to poor Frosty the Snowman in the neighbor’s yard. Yesterday, you asked the drive-through attendant if you can get your order to go. Seriously, are you okay? You’re not ready to skip without a rope are you?
SUSAN:
No, I really am fine. I just don’t get it – I can’t get the Christmas spirit this year. I’ve tried everything, it’s just not there. Starbuck’s double mocha latte with cinnamon and pumpkin spice, with a dash a vanilla and nonfat whip cream just isn’t working. Fifty percent off sales at Kohl’s just doesn’t move me this year. Fighting for parking places, going to the mall, having Christmas sponsored by a cola, fast food restaurants, and those “priceless” commercials just makes me cranky. I think . . . [KNOCK ON THE DOOR]
TOM:
[PANICKING] Susan, don’t answer that door. It could be a group of mime Christmas carolers – I hate that. Worse yet, it could be one of your third cousins twice removed here on a spiritual pilgrimage from the ancient Ga people in Africa. Maybe it’s Dr. Phil – you know he is the anti-Christ. It could be that Wal-mart associate you assaulted . . . 
SUSAN:
Tom, you are overreacting. I’m fine! It’s probably just Shirley next door wanting to borrow a cup of sugar. Would you chill out? Go watch football or something, I’ll get the door. [PUSHES TOM OUT THE DOOR.] 
TOM:
Okay, I’ll go to my happy place. If anybody asks, I’m not here. 
SUSAN:
Hey, and don’t’ even think about saying something about Oprah. [OPENS DOOR -- CAREFULLY] Anoria, is that you? What are you doing here, again?
ANORIA:
[ANORIA IS YELLING AT THE CHAUFFER] Yes, please shampoo that carpet while I talk my BFF Buffy. And use that stuff I brought from Greece. Don’t use. . . Oh bother. It is so hard to find good chauffeurs these days. Oh Buffy, I’m here! You are so lucky again. Maybe we should make this a Christmas tradition. Even though your house was absolutely dreadful, I was in the neighborhood and I brought you something special. I know, you must be terribly embarrassed about, well, you know, your neighborhood. Did you know people have plastic reindeer in their yards? My philosophy is, use only real reindeer. I have some flown in from the Arctic every year. And what’s with those inflatable things? Oh, they are so dreadful and tacky. When no one is looking, I take a knife to those hideous things. Last year, I destroyed forty-one “Santa’s Flying the Helicopter.” It’s my neighborhood watch program. I know, I do what I can to clean up the neighborhood. Why Susan, you don’t go out in public do you?
SUSAN:
Anoria, what are you doing in the neighborhood? You live in Manhattan. 
ANORIA:
I know, you will be so sad, but I can only stay for a few minutes. Mumsy’s pilot has to get back for some kind of presidential inauguration or something – like the president is more important than me. And due to an unfortunate misunderstanding, I’m no longer welcome in Russia. Anyway, I told the chauffeur just to wait outside, I wouldn’t be long. Susan, it looks like I came in the “nick” of time. I just made a pun – get it, “nick” of time. I’m beautiful and funny. Well, you still look like you could use a face peel – you’re looking tired. Have you been using that special cream I gave you? You know, a group of monks in Bhutan makes it. All natural. Secret ingredients. 
SUSAN:
Of course, please come in. Where’s Max?
ANORIA:
Max, that wonderful husband of mine. He is on a pilgrimage in Turkey – on a quest to find the sacred Tombo mushroom – only six known plants in the world. You know I am always looking for new uses for mushrooms. Nobody appreciates mushrooms anymore. Why is that Buffy? You know Buffy, I have been writing to [Obama or McCain] everyday. I think he should increase federal mushroom subsidies by eleven percent. In fact, I think he’s going to declare mushrooms the national fungi. Forget the eagle; we need a new national symbol. I guess the last election really was about “morel” issues? [LAUGHES HYSTERICALLY] I’m just so funny. You know . . .
SUSAN:
Are you spending the night? I can have Tom prepare the guest room for you. 
ANORIA:
No. No. No, don’t bother that lovely husband of yours. But I do have some new recipes for him to try. I know he is such a fan of fine chocolate [USING A FRENCH ACCENT – SHOCK-O-LA]. Anyway, I am only here to share my new juice recipe with you. I have been working on it all year, and I just couldn’t wait to try it out on someone I love. I know you just love it when I make my juice. None of my servants volunteered. It’s so hard to find good help these days. So here I am. 
SUSAN:
Anoria, you shouldn’t have. I just don’t deserve having you as my foster sister. I feel so special. You came all this way in a private jet with your own chauffeur to give me . . . juice?
ANORIA:
Oh Buffy, I knew you would understand. We are so much alike, I think we could pass for twins. Although I get to be the pretty one. 
SUSAN:
So what makes this juice so special? 
ANORIA:
Well, I start with Go Gee juice – made from rare berries grown only in the Himalayas. Then I add some fennel seed, St. John’s Wort, Shiitake mushrooms, goat weed, ginger, cranberries for color, fresh pine needles, sesame seed oil, clam juice, cricket legs, a touch of pomegranate for flavor, and a secret ingredient. I think it’s legal – although I wouldn’t travel to Peru anytime soon. Bon Appetite!
SUSAN:
Anoria, is there no end to your talent? You are so thoughtful. Words can’t express how I feel right now.
ANORIA:
I knew you’d feel this way. Merry Christmas. Here it is – my special juice – already prepared. [TAKES OUT A BOTTLE AND POURS A GLASS FOR SUSAN.] I made it just for you. So drink up – now. Hurry up, my chauffeur is almost done shampooing the limo. I have to back for my Kundalini yoga. Oh, and here’s a Botox gift card. What could be better than the gift of beauty at Christmas? 
SUSAN:
Well, if it will make you happy! Here goes [SUSAN DRINKS THE JUICE, MAKING HORRIBLE FACES]
ANORIA:
Susan, you will thank me later. That juice will take five years off your face, purify your digestive tract, reverse ionization of your electrolytes, and probably curl your hair. Don’t be alarmed, however. It may turn your mucous slightly purple. I don’t think that is a problem. [WHISPERING] Just don’t give any to Tom if you know what I mean. So what did you get me for Christmas? Where’s my present? 
SUSAN:
Anoria, I . . . I. . . I didn’t know you were coming. I . . .
ANORIA:
Oh Susan, don’t worry about it, you can just mail it. I will be spending January in Darfur. Those poor people really need some conditioner. Oh, I have to go. Enjoy the juice! Let’s do lunch in Paris some weekend. Ta! [EXITS]
SUSAN:
Whoa. I don’t know what was in that juice, but I need to lie down. I’m not feeling so well. My stomach feels like it is going to explode, my head is pounding, and I keep hearing the AFLAC duck. I need a couch! I need a couch! Pepto Bismol, take me away! [LIGHTS OUT]

SCENE 2
NARRATOR: [V.O.]
The birth of Jesus took place like this. His mother, Mary, was engaged to be married to Joseph. Before they came to the marriage bed, Joseph discovered she was pregnant. (It was by the Holy Spirit, but he didn't know that.) Joseph, chagrined but noble, determined to take care of things quietly so Mary would not be disgraced. While he was trying to figure a way out, he had a dream. God's angel spoke in the dream: "Joseph, son of David, don't hesitate to get married. Mary's pregnancy is Spirit-conceived. God's Holy Spirit has made her pregnant. She will bring a son to birth, and when she does, you, Joseph, will name him Jesus—'God saves'—because he will save his people from their sins." This would bring the prophet's embryonic sermon to full term: Watch for this—a virgin will get pregnant and bear a son; They will name him Immanuel (Hebrew for "God is with us"). Then Joseph woke up. He did exactly what God's angel commanded in the dream: He married Mary. [LIGHTS ON]
JOYCE:
Yo Susan! I’m here. I bet you weren’t expecting to see me? 
SUSAN:
Joyce, after last year, I didn’t expect to see you for at least another . . . three or four years. Grand theft auto is a felony last time I checked. Then there’s the shoplifting, assault and . . . . 
JOYCE:
Well, I came back to see my favorite relative. You really think electric fences, high-powered rifles, a foot of concrete reinforced with high-strength steel, killer dogs, security cameras, not to mention handcuffs and leg shackles could keep me away from my favorite foster sister at Christmas? Yep, me and Paris Hilton have a lot in common this Christmas.
SUSAN:
Well, actually, I did. 
JOYCE:
Not to worry, because I am never going back to the Mill Valley Correctional Facility for women. After serving six years, one hundred fifty one days, I graduated . . . so to speak. I am angel. I’m on a mission from God.
SUSAN:
[IN UTTER DISBELIEF] Whoa! You’re an angel? You’re on a mission from God? I have to stop drinking that juice from Anoria. 
JOYCE:
Yeh. It surprised me too. I’m not exactly Mother Theresa. Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve done more crimes than OJ. They are thinking about doing one of those Lifetime movies about me. 
SUSAN:
So, how did it happen? The chair, lethal injection, firing squad, bad sushi? 
 JOYCE:
No. No. No. What’s sushi? Is that like the gas chamber? Never mind. If you must know, I was killed by a dove. 
SUSAN:
A dove? Those cute little grey birds? Symbols of peace!
JOYCE:
No, you fool. I was taking a shower, stepped on a bar of Dove soap, hit my head on the floor, and that was it – lights out, toast, pushing up daisies, toes up, jumped the great boa, kicked. . .
SUSAN:
I get it. 
JOYCE:
But don’t you tell anyone how I really died. I want people to think I died in some famous gun battle, pumped full of lead by angry FBI officers. And remember, don’t make me angry. Even though I’m an angel, I can hurt you. I can hurt you bad. Angel wings can be lethal.
SUSAN:
An angel? Frankly, that’s not where I expected you’d go. Let’s just say, if felonies were an Olympic sport, why you’d walk away with more gold than Michael Phelps. With your record . . . 
JOYCE:
Well sis, it caught me by surprise as well. To be honest, I’m not sure heaven was ready for me. I kinda got in trouble for the seventy-seventh time, so they sent me back down to earth to cheer you up – to show you the Christmas spirit. The real meaning of Christmas. So, get happy or else. . . 
SUSAN:
Oh that’s comforting. Just figures, I get an angel on probation. Miss felony-waiting-to-happen has been assigned to show me the Christmas spirit. That would be kinda of like Brittany Spears getting mother of the year. This ought to be good. 
JOYCE:
Let’s not call it probation. Let’s just say I’m in time-out for a very, very long time. And no, you don’t want to know. So let’s get started. Hey, are you happy yet? Hurry up, I’ve got things to destroy, crimes and misdemeanors to commit, places to. . . 
SUSAN:
I get the picture. So when do I wake up from this nightmare? 
JOYCE: 
Just follow me. [LIGHTS OUT]

SCENE 3
NARRATOR: [V.O]
About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his own ancestral hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David's town, for the census. As a descendant of David, he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiancée, who was pregnant. While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in a manger, because there was no room in the hostel. [LIGHTS ON]
JOSH:
[BUDDY ENTERS SINGING A MEDLEY OF MIXED UP CHRISTMAS SONGS.] Morning Buddy. Not that I really want to know or care, but just making small pleasantries, so go ahead, tell me, how was your weekend?
BUDDY:
Sounds like someone needs to sing a Christmas carol. The best way to spread Christmas cheer is making snow angels, and singing loudly for all to hear. 
JOSH:
I don’t sing.
BUDDY:
Of course you sing – I’ve heard you in the elevator. Oh Josh, my weekend was awesome! I made sixty-five snow angels all over the park. I made a fourteen-foot Christmas tree out of candy canes, and constructed a gingerbread village complete with skating rink and internet café. I found a new recipe for gingerbread houses – made with mushrooms. You know, nobody appreciates mushrooms anymore. Why is that Josh? [STARTS SINGING AGAIN]
JOSH:
Buddy [BUDDY IS STILL SINGING] Buddy! [YELLING]. President of the Mushroom Academy of American Fungi Growers, nobody cares. Normal people don’t get excited about mushrooms, or candy canes, or Christmas. Buddy, you’re sick! Pack your bags, and get thee to Fungi Anonymous. There is a twelve-step program for you somewhere, I just know it. And for the record, I hate Christmas. It’s the worst time of year – all that giving and sharing, and singing. It’s like a two months of Mamma Mia.
BUDDY:
[HORRIFIED – GOES TO COVER JOSH’S MOUTH]
Josh, don’t you say that – he’ll hear you. You could end up on the naughty list. Don’t be an angry elf. 
JOSH:
Buddy, it’s time someone told you – Buddy, sit down. Buddy, there’s no Santa. He’s not real. 
BUDDY:
Josh, of course there is a Santa. I have seen him! I know Santa. Josh, don’t tell anyone, but actually, I’m different. I’m human, but was raised by elves. 
JOSH: 
Buddy, I believe you could actually be the president of the Barry Manilow fan club, and give Dick Cheney happy lessons on the weekends. But you want me to believe you were raised by elves? At the North Pole? 
BUDDY:
Oh Josh, I knew you would understand! I just knew you were a believer. Yes, I am a Christmas elf, and let me tell you a story. Elves love to tell stories. My mother was an elf, specializing in extreme graphic chipset processors – oh she was such a “Wii” little elf. She realized, on Christmas Eve that she made a mistake with the design of one of the chips. She just couldn’t let Santa deliver defective chips, and have all those sad little boys and girls at Christmas. What would Christmas be with defective Playstations, Xboxes and Wiis? The horror!
JOSH:
[TRYING NOT TO LAUGH IN DISBELIEF] No, no, that would be terrible. Christmas without all that noise – chimes and whistles, clicks, clacks, whooshes, and whizzes. An avatar-free Christmas -- the nightmare! I am sure she just couldn’t live with herself. 
BUDDY:
[BREAKS OUT IN SONG] Oh, sorry, I suffer from Hyperactive Happiness Disorder, or HHD. It makes me want to sing, and sometimes I talk non-stop. Oh, back to my story. So on Christmas Eve . . . 
JOSH:
[INTERRUPTING] On Christmas Eve, she secretly boarded Santa’s sleigh, in a clandestine operation, replaced the defective computer chips, and at one stop in an orphanage in Happyville, she finds you, brings you back to the North Pole and raises you like her own child. That explains your. . 
BUDDY:
No you cotton-headed ninny-muggins. Josh sometimes we need to work on your listening skills. No. No. But I will tell you a secret. Rudolph the Reindeer isn’t real.
JOSH:
Are you telling me Rudolph isn’t real? [SARCASTICALLY] Oh, the kids, those poor innocent children. 
BUDDY:
Josh, don’t you dare tell them. You will be on the naughty list for years. And no more Christmas cookies for you – and I won’t invite you to my birthday party!
JOSH:
I would never dream of telling all the beautiful children of the world that Rudolph is not real. 
BUDDY:
Now would you let me finish my story! My mother had to think fast. So on Christmas Eve eve – that’s the night before Christmas Eve for you humans, she stays up all night and constructs a robotic reindeer. I bet you didn’t know that real Rudolph is alfalfa intolerant. I know, who ever thought a reindeer could be allergic to alfalfa? When he eats alfalfa, well let’s just say it gets messy and smelly! Reindeer droppings everywhere. And gas that could bring the Grinch to tears. That’s when you know to don your hay apparel. It wasn’t a silent night at the North Pole. And trust me; none of the other reindeer wants to follow Rudolph if you “catch my drift.” Well, my mom secretly replaced the robotic reindeer for the real Rudolph. It certainly appeared to be a win-win situation. 
JOSH:
Tell me Buddy, is that why all of the other reindeer would laugh and call him names? [PAUSE] So what you’re telling me is Santa has a reindeer that . . . .
BUDDY:
Josh, it’s not nice to make fun of reindeer with disabilities. People already made fun of poor Rudolph. What if the Chronicle finds out? Worse yet, what if Santa finds out? 
JOSH: 
Buddy, what’s in those candy canes? You’re talkin’ crazy dude. Do you need to seek professional help? I think I have the number for . . . 
BUDDY:
Yes, that’s the real reason. I’m not making this up. Now stop interrupting me. Yes, my mom gave Rudolph some alfalfa, and made a robot Rudolph to correct a computer glitch. Every time Rudolph’s nose would light, it would send a computer message correcting the defective software. The lighted nose was actually an electronic patch. You know, even Santa has to work with Windows.
JOSH:
Does Santa know the truth about the fake reindeer? The computer glitch? Rudolph and global warming? [PAUSE] That still doesn’t explain how you got to the North Pole to be raised by elves. 
BUDDY:
Santa found me in a stocking on Christmas Eve. He brought me back to the North Pole, and told my mother to look after me. 
JOSH:
So you’re a human raised by elves from the North Pole? [BUDDY SHAKES HER HEAD YES]. So how did you get here? 
BUDDY:
I don’t want to talk about it. 
JOSH:
Okay, now we are getting somewhere. Come on, you can tell me. I promise, no one would believe me anyways.
BUDDY:
Okay, but you can’t tell anyone! [WANDERS AROUND THE ROOM TO MAKE SURE NO ONE IS LISTENING.] Santa told me I was making the other elves nervous – and that I could share the true meaning of Christmas better if I lived in Indiana, and got a real job. So here I am, trying to share the real meaning of Christmas. 
JOSH:
So you are a Santa stalker?
BUDDY:
Is a stalker someone who fills Christmas stockings! Oh, I hope so – I love stockings!
JOSH:
Never mind – just focus on spreading the joy of Christmas.
So Buddy, what is the real meaning of Christmas?
BUDDY:
Why that’s simple. I believe in love, mistletoe, and magic. And most important, Christmas is Santa -- and I know him, I really know him. I know where he was born. I know what he likes to eat. I know what socks he likes to wear. I even know his favorite reindeer. I followed him wherever he went. One time. . . 
JOSH:
Buddy, Santa was right. 
And no, I am not a stalker. Why just last year . . .

SCENE 4
JOYCE:
[INTERRUPTING] So that was a stupid idea. Ya’ know, I was getting a little annoyed with that Buddy. That hyperactive happiness disorder gets on my nerves. My prison counselor told me I had anger issues. I broke her face. Buddy’s just a little too happy for me. I don’t like happy – makes me mad. I’d like to deck his halls. Call it an elf-inflicted wound.
SUSAN:
Joyce! P-R-O–B–A-T-I-O-N. [SPELLS WORD]. It wouldn’t look good on your record if you pounded a Christmas elf. I am sure heaven takes elf-abuse seriously. So Joyce, why did you bring me here? 
JOYCE:
 I thought who better to teach you the meaning of Christmas than an elf. Silly me, I thought all humans raised as elves were psychologically stable, happy, and could demonstrate the true meaning of Christmas. That one’s had a few too many candy canes. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bring you here. I guess there is more to Christmas than Santa, reindeer, and elves. Santa, I don’t like him. One year I set a trap in my fireplace for him. Santa never came to my part of town. Oh wait; I know where we can find some true Christmas cheer. Follow me. [EXIT]
SUSAN:
Joyce, no. I am feeling better, really. I just want to go home. 
JOYCE:
Feeling “Claustrophobic”? Get it? Trust me. [LIGHTS OUT]

SCENE 5
NARRATOR: [V.O]
As the angel choir withdrew into heaven, the sheepherders talked it over. "Let's get over to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see for ourselves what God has revealed to us.” They left, running, and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. Seeing was believing. They told everyone they met what the angels had said about this child. All who heard the sheepherders were impressed. Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they'd been told! [LIGHTS ON] 
RALPHIE:
[RALPHIE AND MRS. PARKER ENTER. MRS. PARKER SITS, AND RALPHIE LOOKS DIRECTLY AT THE AUDIENCE. STANDING] It was over – I was dead. What would it be? The guillotine? Hanging? The chair? The rack? Water torture? Guantanamo? Rehab? Mere child’s play compared to what surely awaited me. Life is like that sometimes. Sometimes at the height of our reveries, when our joy is at its zenith, when all is most right with the world, the most unthinkable disaster descends upon us. [TURNS TO MRS. PARKER] Mom, do you think dad is going to kill me?
MRS. PARKER:
No Ralphie, I don’t think your dad is going to kill you. But Santa may put you on the naughty list. I see a bar of soap in your future. And it won’t be that fruity Lux, but an economy size bar of Lava. And he might even make you wear last year’s cute little lime green pajamas with the blue birds on the feet. I think your Aunt Sarah makes the nicest gifts. Now Ralphie, there I was making a lovely meatloaf for dinner when I got the call from the principal’s office. “Mrs. Parker, Mrs. Parker, please come to the school as soon as possible – there is a problem with Raphie. This is an emergency.”
RALPHIE:
It wasn’t me, it was Scut Farkus! Scut Farkus! His lips were curled over his green teeth. And what a name! There he stood with his yellow eyes! So help me he had yellow eyes. 
MRS. PARKER: 
Scut, what a nice young man. And nobody names their kid Scut anymore. Why is that? I bet he grows up to be a dentist. Don’t you think he looks like a dentist? Anyways, Scut was still in the hospital after you beat him to a bloody pulp. It couldn’t have been Scut. You know Ralphie, violence is not the answer. Ralphie, how could you? 
RALPHIE:
[STAND] I had to, I just had to. Flick said I wouldn’t do it, and of course, I said, “oh yeah!” Then Flick said, I double-dog dare ya. Well, now it was getting serious, but I held my ground, I said, “no,” I just couldn’t. And then Flick pulled out the coup de grace of all dares – the sinister triple-dog-dare ya. It was a slight breach of etiquette, but he went right for the throat. Mom, I had to. My life depended on it. Had I not, my life would have been over. I would have had to drop out of school in fourth grade, and move to Idaho or something. Would you want a fourth-grade drop out on your conscience? I wouldn’t think so. Just when . . 
MRS. PARKER:
But Ralphie, [EMBARRASSED] you took the leg lamp to school – that hideous lamp. I’ll never be able to show my face in public again. Oh Ralphie, it’s the ugliest lamp I have ever seen. [EMOTIONALLY] You took the lamp for show and tell. Your father thinks it’s beautiful – a work of art, a masterpiece. He says, “Why this lamp should be in a museum – it’s like the Mona Lisa of lamps. So we have to put it in the front window for all the neighbors to see. Ralphie, that lamp gives me nightmares. So what happened after that? Mr. Johnson started talking about the fire department and. . . .
RALPHIE:
Mom, it’s Christmas, and Christmas is about presents. So can I get a Red Ryder . . . 
MRS. PARKER:
Ralphie, what happened?
RALPHIE:
Well, it all happened so quickly. I wrapped the lamp in a huge bag, and when it was my turn, I proudly went to the front of the classroom, plugged in the lamp, and took off the bag. I knew it would be a moment that would burn in my memory the rest of my life. I brought to school a masterpiece, a work of art – a lamp that came from that Louvre place in France. When Miss Fields saw the lamp, she was horrified. She had that look in her eye. She fainted – and there she was flapping on the floor. When she fell, she accidentally hit the cage with all the mice for our science experiment, and all six of the little white mice ran out of their cage. Carrie and Marta started to scream and they fainted too. All of the kids except Justin jumped on top of their desks. A mouse ran up Fred’s pants, and he started screaming like a girl, and was running around the room like his tail was on fire. That was so funny – it was way cool. Fred accidentally ran into the table with our class aquarium on it, and it crashed to the floor, spilling two-hundred gallons of water all over the floor. Poor Miss Fields was still on the floor, soaking in water, now covered with goldfish and betas flopping all over her. Danny was running around trying to find Nemo, and save the goldfish with his lunchbox. For future reference, don’t ever try CPR on goldfish – not pretty. When the aquarium fell, it also knocked over the table with all or our volcanoes we made last week. It was really cool, they all erupted, spewing fake lava all over the room. The steam from the volcanic explosions set off the fire alarm and then the sprinklers came on – all over the school. Then Mr. Johnson ran in. . . .
MRS. PARKER:
What did Mr. Johnson do? 
RALPHIE:
He went and helped Miss Fields off the floor, and called the fire department, the police, the school nurse, and maybe even the president. Soon, the room was filled with all kinds of people. And then all of a sudden, they stopped, and Mr. Johnson said in a scary principal voice, “Who is responsible for this?” The whole class stared at me as if I had lobsters crawling out of my ears, pointed and said, “Ralphie’s lamp, Ralphie’s lamp.” Mom, don’t tell dad, but I don’t think they liked his lamp. 
MRS. PARKER:
That lamp has got to go. Tonight when we go to the . . .
RALPHIE:
Word of this humiliation could easily make life at Warren G. Harding School miserable. I single handedly destroyed an entire fourth-grade classroom, sent Miss Fields to the hospital, exploded fifteen volcanoes, accidentally liberated six white lab mice, but killed one hundred goldfish, and six betas. Now there was a half an inch of water on our classroom floor, and seventeen library books covered in vinegar, baking soda, and red food coloring. I think it was my best show and tell ever. But Mom, I think Mr. Johnson wants to send me to Australia. He said this would go on my permanent record. Scut Farkus, was lucky, he was in the hospital. Do you think this harms my chances of getting an official Red-Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred Shot Range Model air rifle with a compass and this thing which tells time built right in the stock? I didn’t mean to destroy the school, it just happened. But it’s still Christmas, and Christmas is about getting presents. Presents mom, presents. Mom, through all this, I discovered that you can make people forget the past with presents. Christmas comes under a tree. Christmas is getting presents. Why Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without presents. So please, can I have an official Red-Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred Shot Range Model air rifle? 
MRS. PARKER:
Ralphie, no, you’ll shoot our eye out. How ‘bout a football, or a train. Ralphie, Christmas isn’t just about presents, or attempted murder of a fourth-grade teacher. Christmas is about mincemeat pie, popcorn balls, and getting rid of your father’s leg lamp. That’s what Christmas is all about. [LIGHTS OUT] 

SCENE 6
JOYCE:
I want that lamp. I really want that lamp – it’s one beautiful piece of art. It could go with my defective license plates and hubcaps collection. Did you know I had the nicest cell in all of Mill Valley? I wanted that Ty guy to give my cell one of those extreme makeovers. They said they didn’t do prison cells. 
SUSAN:
Joyce, how can you say that? Miss Fields almost drowns, several children were attacked by wayward rodents, not to mention dead goldfish, exploding volcanoes, and. . .
JOYCE:
Okay, so maybe I’m not very good at this whole angel thing. You try being an angel. But I did like the exploding part. And I love that lamp! You think maybe we could maybe “borrow” it? I could case the joint tonight, and we . . .
SUSAN:
Joyce! [YELLING] What are you thinking? You are supposed to be an angel on a mission from God – sent here to cheer me up. How can I learn the true meaning from Christmas from someone who is planning the heist of an illuminated body part? I think I need some more of Anoria’s juice.
JOYCE:
Hey, lay off that juice. You’re right, you’re right – old habits die hard. You don’t have to help me “borrow” the lamp.
There, feel better now? You know, I like that Ralphie. I like the way he thinks. I think he’s got it – Christmas is about weapons. Lots of weapons. I know a lot of people in weapons. I just bet I could help Ralphie get a gun, a real gun, and cheap, real cheap. I could even throw in a homemade shank. Do you think Ralphie might like a .38 special? How about a Glock 9? Or better yet. . . 
SUSAN:
Joyce, you’re missing the point. Ralphie doesn’t need an arsenal. He needs to learn that Christmas isn’t about leg lamps or guns, or even presents. Christmas doesn’t come under a tree. It isn’t about boxes and ribbons and bows. Christmas is about . . .
JOYCE:
Susan, Susan, Susan, you have so much to learn. Hey, follow me. [LIGHTS OUT]
 
SCENE 7
NARRATOR: [V.O]
After Jesus was born in Bethlehem village, Judah territory— this was during Herod's kingship—a band of scholars arrived in Jerusalem from the East. They asked around, "Where can we find and pay homage to the newborn King of the Jews? We observed a star in the eastern sky that signaled his birth. We're on pilgrimage to worship him." When word of their inquiry got to Herod, he was terrified—and not Herod alone, but most of Jerusalem as well. Herod lost no time. He gathered all the high priests and religion scholars in the city together and asked, "Where is the Messiah supposed to be born?" They told him, "Bethlehem, Judah territory. The prophet Micah wrote it plainly: It's you, Bethlehem, in Judah's land, no longer bringing up the rear. From you will come the leader who will shepherd-rule my people, my Israel." Herod then arranged a secret meeting with the scholars from the East. Pretending to be as devout as they were, he got them to tell him exactly when the birth-announcement star appeared. Then he told them the prophecy about Bethlehem, and said, "Go find this child. Leave no stone unturned. As soon as you find him, send word and I'll join you at once in your worship." Instructed by the king, they set off. Then the star appeared again, the same star they had seen in the eastern skies. It led them on until it hovered over the place of the child. They could hardly contain themselves: They were in the right place! They had arrived at the right time! They entered the house and saw the child in the arms of Mary, his mother. Overcome, they kneeled and worshiped him. Then they opened their luggage and presented gifts: gold, frankincense, myrrh. [LIGHTS ON]
MR. POTTER:
George, you came back. I sent the police looking for you. George Bailey, I have been trying to get you out of my town, and that cheap, penny-ante Building and Loan shut down for good. George, your father was one of the worst businessmen I ever met. He wasted his whole life on lazy bums who don’t deserve a second chance. That’s why after they arrest you, I’m sending fifteen families out on the street on Christmas day. Christmas or no Christmas, business is business. Why this town would be better off without them anyways. Now that I own this town, there are going to be some changes.
GEORGE:
Just a minute! Just a minute! Now hold on, Mr. Potter. You’re right when you say my father was no businessman. I know that. Why he ever started this cheap, penny-ante Building and Loan, I’ll never know. But neither you nor anyone else can say anything against his character, because his whole life, was – why in the twenty-five years since he and Uncle Billy started building this community, he never once thought of himself. He didn’t save enough money to send Harry to school, let alone me. But those lazy bums weren’t just contracts and liabilities; they were his friends and neighbors. In my book, he tried to make a difference. He tried to make this community a better place. He wanted those “lazy bums” to be able to stand up on their own two feet. He wanted them to be proud. He died a much richer man than you will ever be. And now, on Christmas Eve, you want to throw fifteen families out on the street? Have a heart Mr. Potter, it’s Christmas. 
MR. POTTER:
George Bailey, are you telling me that you still believe in Christmas? My god is money. Christmas is for fools. There is nothing special about Christmas. If I had my way about it, the bank would be open every day, even on Christmas. Money is the answer, George. Trust me, anyone who has money has lots of friends. There is nothing you have I can’t buy. I have never once given a present at Christmas, and never once received a present at Christmas. And don’t tell me to have a heart Mr. Potter. I don’t have a heart and I don’t want a heart. Keep your heart, and your friends, and your community – I’m better off without them. At least my heart will never get broken. George, go ahead, you just have your Christmas, and your little friends, but don’t forget George, I am the richest man in town. George, just wait right here, I’m sure the police will be along shortly. You can ponder about all of your high ideals and naïve optimism in the people behind bars – where you belong. George, don’t you realize money is the real god of Christmas. 
GEORGE:
Well Mr. Potter, I think you will be waiting a long time. You see, tonight I realized something. . . 
MR. POTTER:
Yeah George, you finally realized I won. With bankruptcy, and scandal, and prison, I’ll finally own this town. I finally beat those Bailey boys. Money always wins, George. 
GEORGE:
No. No, that’s not it. I learned that one person’s life touches so many others. And I learned that the whole world doesn’t revolve around you and your money, or bonds, investments, and life insurance policies. . . 
MR. POTTER:
George, I don’t need to sit here and listen to this nonsense. George, where is my $8,000 dollars? I want my money now, or you are going to jail for a very long time. 
GEORGE:
Why Mr. Potter, didn’t you hear? 
MR. POTTER:
Hear what? 
GEORGE:
Here Mr. Potter, here is your $8,000, and an extra $2,000 to pay the rent for three months on the fifteen families you were planning on evicting tomorrow, on Christmas. 
MR. POTTER:
George Bailey, where did you come up with $10,000?
GEORGE:
If you must know, it was all those wonderful lazy bums -- those hard working men and women of Bedford Falls. When all those “freeloaders” heard of my troubles, they gave, and gave. People like Mrs. Lincoln, and Violet, and Burt, Martini, Zuzu’s teacher, and dear Mr. Gowan. Sam He Haw Wainwright even sent a telegraph insuring an advance of up to $25,000. They gave from their heart Mr. Potter. They opened up their heart Mr. Potter. Remember, no man is a failure who has friends. 
MR. POTTER:
George, I don’t know how you did it, but you beat me this time. But just you wait. One day, George, one day, those friends will turn on you. Your few minutes of fame and glory will be burned up in an instant. I promise, one day you’ll come crawling back to me on your hands and knees begging for help. And when that day comes. . . 
GEORGE:
I met an angel tonight Mr. Potter. Not a very good angel, yet he earned his wings tonight. Atta-boy Clarence. But he taught me something, something really big. I learned I have been given a great gift. I got a chance to see the world in a new way. Mr. Potter, you may have the most wealth and power in town, but I think I’m the richest man in town now.
MR. POTTER:
George, I know you and I know your type. George, I remember you telling me you wanted to shake the dust off this crummy town and see the world. And now you are telling me you are the richest man in town! George, you are crazier than I thought. George, you are a frustrated young man with a leaky house, a sick child, and a bankrupt Savings and Loan. George, you have nothing. Nothing. I don’t think you are in any position to declare yourself the richest man in town.
GEORGE:
Well Mr. Potter, you’re wrong. Even though you have tried to destroy me and my family, taken away my dignity, tried to put me in jail, and even put the beloved Savings and Loan out of business, you are simply wrong Mr. Potter. Each person’s life touches so many other lives. Wealth is not measured by your bank account, a faint hope that your assets exceed your liabilities. Life isn’t just a game of accounting. No, it’s living, and loving and caring, and investing -- investing in those things that really matter. [HANDS MR. POTTER A CHRISTMAS PRESENT]. Mr. Potter, this is for you. Merry Christmas.
MR. POTTER:
[EXITS] George Bailey, you are still the town fool. 

SCENE 8
JOYCE:
What’s wrong with that George Bailey? Is he going to let that wimpy and mean old Mr. Potter push him around? I need to teach that young man about violence. I’ll give him a crash course in assertiveness training. Why that Mr. Potter wouldn’t last ten minutes around me. I could take him out so fast. Just ask Marge in cellblock C, or husband number one, two, three, and four. Now Joe, you remember Joe? I liked him. I let him live. He was my favorite mustang.
SUSAN:
This angel stuff is not natural for you is it? There’s nothing wrong with George Bailey. He wants us to remember that money cannot buy good health, love, faith, and family – all the things that really do matter!
JOYCE:
Just what exactly are you saying? I think I make a pretty good angel. And hey, I got the Christmas joy! And you better get some Christmas spirit soon, because I’m running out of patience and time. Why I remem. . . 
SUSAN:
So when is this stroll down Christmas lane going to end? I am feeling better already – really. I think I get the picture.
JOYCE:
I’m glad you do, I’m completely lost. I guess I should have finished sixth grade. Just wait, there’s more. [LIGHTS OUT]

SCENE 9
[LIGHTS ON]
[SUSAN IS STAGE RIGHT. BIG BOX ON STAGE WITH WORDS, “MEANING OF CHRISTMAS.” BUDDY AND JOSH WALK IN, LAUGHING, CARRYING A LARGE STUFFED SANTA. BUDDY HUGS SANTA OVER AND OVER. EVENTUALLY PUTS SANTA IN THE BOX. EXITS.

RALPHIE AND MRS. PARKER ENTER. RALPHIE IS CARRYING A TOY GUN. RALPHIE IS DOING TARGET PRACTICE ALL OVER THE CHURCH. MRS. PARKER IS CARRYING A WRAPPED PRESENT. RALPHIE PLACES THE GUN IN THE BOX. MRS. PARKER PLACES HER PRESENT IN THE BOX. EXIT.

MR. POTTER ENTERS, SNARLS, TAKES A BIG WAD OF MONEY OUT OF HIS POCKET. HESITANTLY, HE PLACES THE MONEY IN THE BOX. DISGUSTED. EXITS.

GEORGE BAILEY ENTERS WITH PICTURES OF HIS HOUSE, ZUZU’S ROSE PETALS, AND THE KEY TO THE CITY. SLOWLY PLACES EACH ONE IN THE BOX. EXITS.

SUSAN GOES TO THE BOX, PULLS OUT A FEW OF THE ITEMS, AND DESPAIRINGLY SHAKES HER HEAD AND SHRUGS. 
VOICE OF GOD: 
Still can’t find the true meaning of Christmas? 
SUSAN:
What?!
VOICE OF GOD:
Up here. Way up here. 
SUSAN:
I guess it’s been awhile since we talked, really talked. 
VOICE OF GOD:
It certainly has. . . Susan, I miss you. 
SUSAN:
Sorry. I guest I’ve just been busy. It’s nothing personal. Work, family, relatives, Christmas parties, shopping, deranged angels. You know, life. So is this where I tell you want I want for Christmas?
VOICE OF GOD:
Susan, I have already given you everything. Every breathe you take is a gift from me. Even before you were born, I was planning your days. I know your faults, your strengths, your desires, and I love you more than you will ever know. When you hold your husband’s hand; hug your daughter and smile at your son – those are all gifts from me. I have carried you in your pain and tragedy, and dried your tears in your sorrows. I have saved you from death so many more times than you are aware. The encouraging phone calls, that cup of coffee with your best friend . . . all because I love you. You are my dearest child. You have a home, good friends, exceptional health, plenty of food, and I know all the clothes in your closet. I know the hairs on your head, and the shoes you keep hidden under the bed. When you go to Wal-mart, I go with you. Let’s just say your closet is doubly blessed. Every good and perfect gift came from me. 
SUSAN:
Thank you. All those things. . .
VOICE OF GOD:
Susan, you know that Christmas doesn’t come from under a tree. Christmas comes without ribbons, bows, boxes, or bags. Susan, Christmas isn’t getting, it’s giving. Don’t you remember? I came down from the glory of heaven to live among people who despised me. I loved them anyway. I came down from the heaven on a rescue mission – to rescue you from the bondage of sin. I am your redeemer. Christmas is a time to remember your independence and freedom. I spent thirty-three years of my life freeing you from captivity, and gave my life in a painful and agonizing way so you could be emancipated. I did it for you. I paid the price for your life. 
SUSAN:
What? What can I do to repay you? 
VOICE OF GOD:
There is nothing you can do to repay me. But what I ask is that this Christmas, let me love you. Let me transform you. I love you too much to leave you the way you are. Just embrace me a little bit more. Pray just a little bit more. Worship just a little bit more. Apply grace liberally. Love your neighbor. And Susan, worry a little bit less. My greatest joy is watching you giving more of yourself to me. That’s Christmas. 
[SUSAN QUIETLY KNEELS IN PRAYER. LIGHTS OUT. ALL CAST MEMBERS ENTER CARRYING CANDLES AND SINGING A CHRISTMAS SONG. JOYCE HAS ANGEL WINGS. BLACK LIGHTS ON AS A FLUORESCENT CROSS RISES FROM CENTER STAGE. EXTINGUISH CANDLES WHEN CROSS AT FULL HEIGHT.]

THE END!

Copyright Michael Jessup, all rights reserved.
This script may be used without payment, provided no charge for admission is made to the performance. In return for free use, the author would like to be told of any performance. He may be contacted at mmhojessup@earthlink.net