“THE CHRISTMAS REINDEER”

 A Christmas Play for Children

By John Donald O’Shea

“The Christmas Reindeer”

 Copyright 2013  

by John Donald O’Shea

All Rights Reserved

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Cast List

(8 males. 5 Females. 6 “Eithers”)

Mary (F) - Jack’s twin nine year-old sister

Jack (M) - Mary’s twin nine year-old brother

Queen (White) (F) - A Talking Chess piece in Santa Land

Bishop (White) (M) - A Talking Chess piece in Santa Land

Knight  (White) (M) - A Talking Chess piece in Santa Land

Poo-lá-ris (E) - A young polar bear in Santa Land

Samuel (Samantha) (E) - A pirate in Santa Land

Frederick (Freddy)  (E) - Another pirate in Santa Land

Captain (M) - The Pirate King in Santa Land

Elrik (Elrika) (The Elf) (E) - Snowmobile “bus” driver in Santa Land

Tetchy (E) - Warnock’s majordomo in or near Santa Land

Warnock (M) - A Wizard in or near Santa Land

Maladonna (F) - The Witch on nearby Kaffeklubben Island

Rudolph (E) - Santa’s Red Nosed Reindeer

Donder (F) - Another of Santa’s Reindeer

Blitzen (F) - Another of Santa’s Reindeer

George (M) - The Wizard’s Familiar Spirit

Harry (M) - George’s Moat Monster

Santa (M) - Santa Claus

Special Thanks

The delightful reindeer that enhance my cover page are used with the generous express permission of ABKLDESIGNS.COM.

THE CHRISTMAS REINDEER” 

SCENE I

(Jack and Mary are “doing their homework” in what appears to be a comfortable computer room in their home. It is a late afternoon in early December)

Mom. (Entering) Jack, Mary, have you got your homework done?

Mary. Yes, mom. 

Mom. What are you doing?

Mary. I’m on the computer.

Mom. Doing what?

Mary. Checking out santashop.com. It’s  Santa’s personal site.

Mom. How about you, Jack?

Jack. I’m doing my homework. The only thing I’ve got left is science. 

Mom. Well, get it done. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. (Mom exits)

Jack. Yes, ma’am. (To Mary) What are you doing on santasshop.com?

Mary. Checking to see if Santa answered my letter.

Jack. Oh, come on! You don’t really still believe in Santa, do you?

Mary. Of course. Don’t you?

Jack. Certainly not. That’s kids’ stuff.

Mary. Too bad. In that case you probably won’t get that iPad you’ve been bugging Mom for.

Jack. Why do you say that?

Mary. Because I asked Santa to bring it for you?

Jack. Wait a minute! You actually asked Santa to bring me a present? Why? You don’t even like me!

Mary. Of course, I like you. You’re my twin brother. I have to like you. It’s required.  Some government rule, I think.

Jack. Wait? Twenty minutes ago you just said, “all boys are jerks!”

Mary. Look, there’s a rule that you have to like your twin brother -- even though he’s a boy - or a jerk!

Jack. I don’t consider myself a jerk!

Mary. I’m afraid that  “jerk-iness,” as in the case of  “beauty,” is in the eye of the beholder!” And that’s me!

Jack. Be careful, or I’ll write and tell him what you just said. 

Mary. (Seeing the inconsistency) Idle threat! Why would you write Santa? You just said you don’t believe in him!

Jack. I like to hedge my bets. 

Mary. And what exactly would you say?

Jack. The truth, of course. I’ll tell him that you said, “all boys are jerks.” That you called me a “jerk,” and that you said “you had to like me” only because of some stupid government rule.

Mary. It’s unpatriotic to call a government rule “stupid!” Besides, you’re a boy. He’ll never believe you.

Jack. I’ll tell him I stand willing to repeat it under oath. If there is a Santa, he’ll find out that you’ve been “naughty.” The only thing he’ll bring you for Christmas will be fruitcake! 

Mary. You wouldn’t dare!

Jack.  A stale, petrified fruitcake!

Mary. But I asked him to bring you an iPad.  You’ll ruin Christmas for me, and you’ll ruin it for yourself, too!

Jack. Huh?

Mary. You write that letter, and I’ll write him a follow-up letter telling him I forgot to mention all the really rotten things you’ve done this year - besides being a boy!

Jack. What “really rotten things?”

Mary. How about the time you clobbered Sara McCarthy with a snowball? How you waited in ambush for a half-hour for her so you could “blind-side” her! 

Jack. It could have been an accident. An accidental test fire. I was aiming at our oak tree, and she just happened to tromp into my line of fire. 

Mary. Laying in ambush suggests premeditation - malice aforethought. He’ll never believe you. And he really dislikes “kids who lie.” If you get anything, it will be a fossilized fruitcake! 

Jack. Wait a minute. If you asked him to bring me an iPad, you had to tell him that I’ve been good all year. If you now tell him, I’ve “been rotten,” doesn’t that suggest you lied, too?

Mary. I didn’t tell him that you’ve been good. I said as boys go - “grading on a curve,” and all - you were “okay” - “more or less.” 

Jack. “Grading on a curve?”

Mary. I was trying to be “politically correct.” He was once a boy himself. I figured he’d understand. 

Jack. I don’t have a twin sister. I have a lawyer!

Mary. Bingo! And just remember, anything you say can be used against you.

(The computer pings, indicating the presence of a new e-mail)

Mary. (Checking her e-mail) Ha! Santa, it seems, has just answered my e-mail! 

Jack. You’re letter was an e-mail?

Mary. Of course, it’s better for the environment! The tree I saved might have been a Christmas tree! 

(Mary clicks and opens the e-mail)

Mary. (Distraught) Jack, read this!

Jack. (Noting her discomfort) What’s wrong? Doesn’t Santa accept e-mails from female attorneys?

Mary. (Almost frantic) Just read it!

Jack. No. I don’t want to be accused of invading your privacy by reading your e-mails. 

Mary. Read it, or else!

Jack. (Reading her e-mail) “Dear Mary,  It is with great regret that I must inform you that I will most likely be unable to stop by your home this Christmas evening.”    Ha! He’s found you out!

Mary. Read further, stupid!

Jack. (Continues reading)  “All my reindeer have disappeared. Unless, I can find them very soon, I will have to postpone my Christmas trip this year. Please accept my apologies. I know what a wonderful little girl you have been this year - even though occasionally browbeat your brother and the other boys.  In addition, I also know what a fine boy Jack has been, not withstanding the fact that he, with clear premeditation, clobbered Sara with that snow ball when she was coming over to play with you at your house after school, and not withstanding the fact that he is a tad slow in getting his science homework done. Santa”     “P.S. If you have any information about the whereabouts of Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, et al, please let me know immediately. I am offering a reward for their safe return.” If you can be of any help, please go to www.Santasapt.com”

Jack. Mary, we’ve got to figure out a way to help him.

Mary. I thought you didn’t believe in Santa? Have you changed your mind?

Jack.  Einstein always kept an open mind. 

Mary. How can you compare yourself to Albert Einstein? He was a genius.  You can’t even get your science homework done!

Jack. That’s because a certain female relative constantly interrupts me. Moreover, I’m humble. 

Mary. You’ve got a lot to be humble about. Are you sure you just don’t want the reward?

Jack. What do you take me for?

Mary. Do you really want me to tell you?

Jack. You better not! Santa seems to be remarkably well-informed.

Mom. (Offstage) Kid’s, dinner’s ready. 

Mary. Let’s get dinner out of the way, and then we can get on it. (Both start to exit)

(Lights go black to indicate a passage of time, and then come back up)

(The kids re-enter their room. Mary enters followed by Jack)

Mary. Jack, when you get done with your science homework, we need to talk.  There must be something we can do to help Santa.

Jack. Just give me a couple minutes.  While I finish up, you can check out that website Santa mentioned in his letter. 

Mary. (Looks at letter, to find the name of the site, finds it and then types it into the computer, We hear the sound of typing on a computer keyboard)  Santasapp.com

Jack. Okay, I’m done!

Mary. Jack, look at this.

Jack. Look at what?

Mary. This website. 

Jack. Stay there. I’ll look over your shoulder. Hey! That’s a neat looking site. 

Mary. Look here. “Northpole Transporter.”

Jack. Check it out!  Put the mouse over it. 

Mary. Nothing happened. Should I click it?

Jack. Yeah. Click it!

Mary. What if there’s a virus?

Jack. I don’t think we have to worry. Santa would never direct us to a virus.

Mary. I thought you didn’t believe in Santa.

Jack. I don’t. But, as I told you,  I like to hedge my bets. If there is a Santa, I don’t want to do anything to upset him. It’s too close to Christmas. 

Mom. (From the kitchen, offstage) Jack, is your homework done?

Jack. Just finished.

Mom. What are you doing?

Mary. We’re on the computer.

Jack. Checking Santa’s web sites. 

Mom. Would either of you like to help me with the dishes?

Jack. I think Mary would.

Mary. This is pretty important. Do you really need me?

Mom. Not if it’s really important. 

Jack. It’s really important. 

Mary. Okay, here goes. (She clicks the link. We hear a mouse/click))

Jack. (Reading over her shoulder) “Free trip to North Pole, for Children 10 and under who believe in Santa.”

Mary. Well, we’re both nine. That’s a start! Do you believe in Santa?

Jack. I’m not sure.

Mary. Wait. Look at this “definition.” (She reads) “Those who believe in Santa include boys 10 and under who aren’t quite sure, but are hedging their bets.” Hey! That’s you!

Jack. Wait a minute. There are height and weight restrictions. What do you weight?

Mary. (Outraged) You can’t ask a woman that question, stupid!

Jack. You’re not a woman! You’re a girl! It says girls have got to be under 48 inches tall, and under 60 pounds.

Mary. I’m 3 foot ten.... That’s 46 inches, and .....

Jack. What do you weigh?

Mary. (Outraged) That’s none of your business!, Let’s just say I’m “in!” What about you?

Jack. Boys have to be under 49 inches, and 61.6 pounds. Mom measured me yesterday. I was 48 inches and 60 lb.. 

Mary. Look at this. It says, “all children must have parental permission.”

Jack. Parental permission for what? Mom doesn’t care if we use the computer -  just as long as we avoid dangerous sites. Mom won’t care. 

Mary. It says, “once you have parental permission, click on the ‘upload/transport’ button.”

Jack. “You will immediately be compressed, and delivered safely and securely to the North Pole.”

Mary. Look, there’s a warning. 

Jack. “Caution! Atmospheric conditions have been known to skew the ‘download’ point of arrival.”

Mary. “Accordingly, wear comfortable shoes, in case you have to walk a bit. Also, since transport will be to the North Pole in winter time, dress appropriately.”

Jack. With all the global warming up there, our sweats and tennis shoes should be plenty good. Everyone knows that the whole North Pole is melting right out from under the polar bears!

Mary. Then, let’s go. Shall I hit the “upload/transport” button?

Jack. Click it!

Mary clicks it. We hear a mouse/click sound. Then psychedelic light(s). Then lights fade out.)

Mary. (A shrinking sound effect) Jack. What’s happening? I think I’m getting smaller!

Jack. You are getting smaller! I think we’re being compressed.

Mary. Jack, grab my hand. I’m being sucked into the computer monitor!

Jack. It’s not doing any good. It’s got both of us. 

Mary. Shouldn’t we leave a note for mom?

Jack. We can’t. The suction’s too strong. (Lights Down)

*******************Shorter Version**********************

(This is a shorter, alternative version of the same scene. I prefer the former version. Mary is at her computer in what appears to be a comfortable computer room in their home. It is a late afternoon in early December)

Jack. (Entering) What are you doing? (He pulls out his science book. He begins his science homework and stays at it - more or less - perhaps less - throughout this scene)

Mary. Checking out santashop.com. It’s  Santa’s personal site.

Jack. Are you serious? (To Mary) What are you doing on santasshop.com?

Mary. Checking to see if Santa answered my letter.

Jack. Oh, come on! You don’t really still believe in Santa, do you?

Mary. Of course. Don’t you?

Jack. Certainly not. That’s kids’ stuff.

Mary. Too bad. In that case you probably won’t get that iPad you’ve been bugging Mom for.

Jack. Why do you say that?

Mary. Because I asked Santa to bring it for you?

Jack. Wait a minute! You actually asked Santa to bring me a present? Why? You don’t even like me!

Mary. Of course, I like you. You’re my twin brother. I have to like you. It’s required.  Some government rule, I think.

Jack. Wait? Twenty minutes ago you just said, “all boys are jerks!”

Mary. Look, there’s a rule that you have to like your twin brother -- even though he’s a boy - or a jerk!

Jack. I don’t consider myself a jerk!

Mary. I’m afraid that  “jerk-iness,” as in the case of  “beauty,” is in the eye of the beholder!” And that’s me!

Jack. Be careful, or I’ll write and tell him what you just said. 

Mary. (Seeing the inconsistency) Idle threat! Why would you write Santa? You just said you don’t believe in him!

Jack. I like to hedge my bets. 

Mary. And what exactly would you say?

Jack. The truth, of course. I’ll tell him that you said, “all boys are jerks.” That you called me a “jerk,” and that you said “you had to like me”  “because of some stupid government rule.”

Mary. It’s unpatriotic to call a government rule “stupid!” Besides, you’re a boy. He’ll never believe you!

Jack. I’ll tell him I’m willing to repeat it under oath. If there is a Santa, he’ll find that you’ve been “naughty.” The only thing he’ll bring you for Christmas will be fruitcake. 

Mary. You wouldn’t dare!

Jack.  A stale, petrified fruitcake!

Mary. But I asked him to bring you an iPad.  You’ll ruin Christmas for me, and you’ll ruin it for yourself, too!

Jack. Huh?

Mary. You write that letter, and I’ll write him a follow-up letter telling him I forgot to mention all the really rotten things you’ve done this year - besides being a boy!

Jack. What “really rotten things?”

Mary. How about the time you clobbered Sara with a snowball? Deny that  you waited in ambush for a half-hour for her so you could “blind-side” her! 

Jack. How can you be sure it wasn’t an accident?  Maybe I was aiming at our oak tree? Maybe she just happened to tromp into my line of fire? Did you ever think of that? 

Mary. Laying in ambush suggests premeditation - malice aforethought. He’ll never believe you. And he really dislikes “kids who lie.” If you get anything, it will be a fossilized fruit cake! 

Jack. Wait a minute. If you asked him to bring me an iPad, you had to tell him that I’ve been good all year. If you now tell him, I’ve “been rotten,” doesn’t that suggest you lied, too?

Mary. I didn’t tell him that you’ve been good. I said as boys go - “grading on a curve”  - you were “okay” - “more or less.” 

Jack. “Grading on a curve?” More or less?”

Mary. ” I was “hedging my bets!”  He was once a boy himself. I figured he’d understand.” I was trying to be “politically correct.”

Jack. I don’t have a twin sister. I have a lawyer!

Mary. Bingo! And just remember, that anything you say can be used against you!

(The computer pings, indicating the presence of a new e-mail)

Mary. (Checking her e-mail) Ha! Santa, it seems, has just answered my e-mail! 

Jack. You’re letter was an e-mail?

Mary. Of course, it’s better for the environment! The tree I saved might have been a Christmas tree! 

(Mary clicks and opens the e-mail)

Mary. (Distraught) Jack, read this!

Jack. (Noting her discomfort) What’s wrong? Doesn’t Santa accept e-mails from female attorneys?

Mary. (Almost frantic) Just read it!

Jack. No. I don’t want to be accused of invading your privacy by reading your e-mails. 

Mary. Read it, or else!

Jack. (Reading her e-mail)  “Dear Mary, It is with great regret that I must inform you that I will most likely be unable to stop by your home this Christmas evening.”   Ha! He’s found you out!

Mary. Read further, stupid!

Jack. (Continues reading) “All my reindeer have disappeared. Unless, I can find them very soon, I will have to postpone my Christmas trip this year. Please accept my apologies. I know what a wonderful little girl you been this year - even though occasionally you browbeat your brother and the other boys.  In addition, I also know what a fine boy Jack has been, not withstanding the fact that he, with clear premeditation, clobbered Sara with that snow ball when she was coming over to play with you at your house after school, and not withstanding the fact that he is a tad slow in getting his science homework done.      Santa”     “P.S. If you have any information about the whereabouts of Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, et al, please let me know immediately. I am offering a reward for their safe return.  If you can be of any help, please go to www.Santasapt.com”

Jack. Mary, we’ve got to figure out a way to help him.

Mary. I thought you didn’t believe in Santa? Have you changed your mind?

Jack.  Einstein always kept an open mind. 

Mary. You compare yourself to Albert Einstein? He was a genius. You can’t even get your science homework done!

Jack. That’s because a certain female relative constantly interrupts me. Moreover, I’m humble. 

Mary. You’ve got a lot to be humble about. Are you sure you just don’t want the reward?

Jack. What do you take me for?

Mary. Do you really want me to tell you?

Jack. You better not! Santa seems to be remarkably well-informed.

Mary. Jack, when you get done with your science homework, we need to talk. There must be something we can do to help Santa.

Jack. Just give me a couple minutes.  While I finish up, you can check out that website Santa mentioned in his letter. 

Mary. (Looks at letter, to find the name of the site, finds it and then types it into the computer, We hear the sound of typing on a computer keyboard) Santasapp.com

Jack. Okay, I’m done!

Mary. Jack, look at this.

Jack. Look at what?

Mary. This website. 

Jack. Stay there. I’ll look over your shoulder. Hey that’s a neat looking site! 

Mary. Look here. “Northpole Transporter.”

Jack. Check it out!  Put the mouse over it. 

Mary. Nothing happened. Should I click it?

Jack. Yeah. Click it!

Mary. What if there’s a virus?

Jack. I don’t think we have to worry. Santa would never direct us to a virus.

Mary. I thought you didn’t believe in Santa.

Jack. I don’t. But, as I told you, I like to hedge my bets. If there is a Santa, I don’t want to do anything to upset him. It’s too close to Christmas. 

Mary. Good thinking!

Jack. (Reading over her shoulder) “Free trip to North Pole, for Children 10 and under who believe in Santa.”

Mary. Well, we’re both nine. That’s a start! Do you believe in Santa?

Jack. I’m not sure.

Mary. Wait. Here’s a “definition.” (She reads) “Those who believe in Santa include boys 10 and under who aren’t quite sure, but are hedging their bets.” Hey! That’s you!

Jack. Wait a minute. There are height and weight restrictions. What do you weight?

Mary. (Outraged) You can’t ask a woman that question!

Jack. Your not a woman! It says girls have got to be under 48 inches tall, and under 60 pounds.

Mary. I’m 3 foot ten.... That’s 46 inches, and .....

Jack. What do you weigh?

Mary. That’s none of your business!, Let’s just say I’m “in!” What about you?

Jack. Boys have to be under 49 inches, and 61.6 pounds. Mom measured me yesterday. I was 48 inches and 60 lb.. 

Mary. Look at this. It says, “all children must have parental permission.”

Jack. Parental permission for what? Mom doesn’t care if we use the computer -  just as long as we avoid dangerous sites. Mom won’t care. 

Mary. It says, “once you have parental permission, click on the ‘upload/transport’ button.”

Jack. “You will immediately be compressed, and delivered safely and securely to the North Pole.”

Mary. Look, there’s a warning. 

Jack. “Caution! Atmospheric conditions have been known to skew the ‘download’ point of arrival.”

Mary. “Accordingly, wear comfortable shoes, in case you have to walk a bit. Also, since transport will be to the North Pole in winter time, dress appropriately.”

Jack. With all the global warming up there, our sweats and tennis shoes should be plenty good. Everyone knows that the whole North Pole is melting right out from under the polar bears!

Mary. Then, lets go. Shall I hit the “upload/transport” button?

Jack. Click it!

Mary clicks it. We hear a mouse/click sound. Then psychedelic light(s). Then lights fade out.)

Mary. (A shrinking sound effect) Jack. What happening? I think I’m getting smaller!

Jack. You are getting smaller! I think we’re being compressed.

Mary. Jack, grab my hand. I’m being sucked into the computer monitor!

Jack. It’s not doing any good. It’s got both of us. 

Mary. Shouldn’t we leave a note for mom?

Jack. We can’t. The suction’s too strong. 

(A big sucking suction sound, as the kids are pulled into the computer. Both scream a bit)

******************* End Shorter Version ******************

   SCENE 2

(In the Domain of the White Queen. The floor of the room is a Chess board. Two thrones sit off to the side. As the lights come up, the Queen, the white bishop and a knight are on the board)

Queen. (The Queen is the White Queen. She is a Chess piece) My Lord Bishop,  have you checked the royal e-mail?

Bishop. No, your Majesty.

Queen. Kindly do so. What is the point of having you as my royal secretary, if all you are going to do all day is traipse diagonally back and forth across the floor of my throne room. And why, don’t you ever use the black squares?

Bishop.  Your Majesty forgets that I am the “white” bishop.

Queen. “White” bishop, “black” bishop! Whatever! Go check my email, or I will have my “black” bishop take your place.

Bishop. Your majesty forgets, that no “black” bishop can never take my place.

Knight (Sir Cumference) . But I can, your Majesty. I would be honored to serve as your royal secretary. As a knight, I do not suffer from the infirmity of being able to move only diagonally. And I do not see every thing as either black or white.

Bishop. You, Sir Cumference ? Her Majesty is well aware of your knightly proclivity of going first one way, and then another. A royal secretary must move directly, and attack each assignment head on. You will notice how I move directly to her Majesty’s iMac in one swift move. With you, it would have taken forever. 

Knight. Perhaps her Majesty would be better served by someone who can see all sides of the problem, rather than someone who recklessly zooms thither and yon.

Queen. Enough! I have a splitting headache. I have enough trouble with the Black Queen and her court. I don’t need more from you. 

Bishop. (Looking at computer monitor) Your Majesty. Safari says you have a download waiting.

Queen. A download from whom?

Bishop. From. <santasapp.com>.

Queen. That should be safe. Download it, my lord Bishop!

Bishop. Very well, Majesty.  (We hear a mouse/click) 

Jack and Mary. (Making a sound, like two kids coming down a really high slide) Whoooooa!

Bishop. Well, by my episcopal robes! What have we here?

Jack. Where are we?

Queen. We know where you are. The question is, who are you?

Mary. We’re Jack and Mary O’Connor. 

Knight. What are you doing here?

Jack. Before we can answer that, we need to know where “here” is.

Bishop. You are in the throne room of Melissa II, Queen of North Chessland. 

Queen. You exaggerate, my lord Bishop. I am the White Queen of North Chessland.  here is also a Black Queen. A disgusting person. Quite unfit to wear the crown. 

Knight. We spend all day making plans to capture the Black Queen’s husband, the Black King. 

Bishop. The Black Queen and her men spend all their time plotting to capture our King.

Mary. Why? 

Knight. Those are the rules. We’re chessman. That’s what chessmen do!

Mary. But you look like ordinary like chess pieces. How can you be talking?

Queen. We are ordinary chess pieces, but North Chessland is a township of, and in, Santa Land, where everybody talks. 

Bishop. Including  the lead soldiers, and rolly-pollies.

Knight. Even the bears and reindeer!

Jack. We’ve come to help Santa find Rudolph and his other missing reindeer. I hope you’re not planning to capture us!

Bishop. We would have no interest in capturing you -  unless, of course, you are black chessmen in disguise.

Jack. I assure you, we’re not.

Queen. In that case, you are free to go. Get out!

Mary. Could you at least give us directions?

Bishop. I would suggest that you begin by moving diagonally across the white squares, and straight out that door. 

Knight. Of course, if you wish to proceed more deliberately, you could take one step straight forward, and a second step diagonally. You will have to take a few more steps, but you’ll see more of North Chessland that way. 

Jack. Where do we go, once we reach the door?

Queen. We have no idea. We have never used the door. That would take us off our chessboard, and out of North Chessland. 

Bishop. And once we’ve been removed from the chessboard, we can no longer participate in the game. Rather like being “in Limbo,” I suppose. 

Knight. Worse! It’s rather like being dead. 

Queen. We have to stay alive, if we’re going to capture the Black King. 

Bishop. I regret to say, that you have wasted enough of her Majesty’s precious time. Please leave. Nice to have met you. Get out!

Mary. Well, I must say you’re not being very friendly.

Knight. We’re white chess pieces. It’s not our function to be friendly. We exist only to capture the Black King.

Queen.  And furthermore, since Santa brings no gifts either to white or black chess pieces, we have no interest in Rudolph or any other of the reindeers. Please be sure to close the door as you leave. And don’t come back. 

Mary. Come on, Jack. It doesn’t look like we’re wanted around here. 

Jack. That’s for sure. Let’s get out of here. (We hear the door open)

Mary. But Jack, we don’t know what’s out there. It’s night-time. It could be freezing.

Jack. It’s a chance we have to take. How else are we going to find Santa’s reindeer? Furthermore, it’s abundantly clear that we’re not wanted here. (We hear the door open. We hear a blast of the Arctic Night, and Jack speak in a shivering voice)   Come on, Mary!  (They Exit)

(LIGHTS DOWN)

SCENE 3

(The lights rise only slightly. It is night time in the Arctic. The stage is all white [fabric], and there are a couple white drifts of snow)

Mary. Jack, it’s freezing out here! It’s really freezing!

Jack. This sure doesn’t feel like global warming to me! It’s a good thing the stars are out, or it would be pitch black up here!

Mary. What are we going to do? We won’t last five minutes out here.

(We here a creeky door open)

Jack. We apparently are not wearing “appropriate clothes.”

Poo-lá-ris. (Poo-lá-ris’ voice suggest that he is a young bear cub) Then I suggest you come in here.

Jack. Who said that?

Poo-lá-ris. (From the door way of Poo-lá-ris’  igloo)  I did. 

Mary. Who are you?

Poo-lá-ris. I’m Poo-lá-ris,  And who are you?

Jack. I’m Jack. 

Mary. I’m his twin sister, Mary. 

Poo-lá-ris. I’m sure I’m very pleased to meet both of you. At least, I think I’m sure.

Jack. But you’re a polar bear!

Poo-lá-ris. Of course. This is the North Pole. What other sort of bear would you expect to find at the Pole? (A pause) In case you haven’t noticed, there’s an icicle forming on your nose.

Mary. (After looking) He’s right, Jack.

Poo-lá-ris. (To Mary)  And there’s one on each of your ears! So I suggest you scurry in here.

Jack. It’s an igloo. 

Poo-lá-ris. It used to be; now it’s a den. I bought it from an Eskimo. 

(We hear them moving in the snow)

Jack. Boy, it’s a lot warmer in here.

Mary. Isn’t it kind of dark? I can’t see a thing.

Poo-lá-ris. Give me a second. Let me get the light. 

Jack. I didn’t know igloos came with lights.

Poo-lá-ris. Generally, they don’t. But this is Santa Land.

Jack. But I thought it was North Chessland.

Poo-lá-ris. North Chessland is just a neighborhood here in Santa Land. If we weren’t in Santa Land, I wouldn’t be able to talk, and I would probably be checking you out to see if either of you were ringed seals. 

Jack. Ringed seals?

Poo-lá-ris. Dinner. My favorite meal. 

Jack. (Nervously) We’re not ringed seals!

Poo-lá-ris. I can see that. So, what are the two of you doing here?

Mary. We got a letter from Santa, saying that his reindeer have disappeared, and that unless they were found, he would have to postpone coming on Christmas eve.

Poo-lá-ris. Oh, that’s the “hot” topic up here - if anything can be “hot” up here. Everyone’s talking about it. Well, almost everybody. The chessmen, of course, would have no interest. 

Jack. We came up to see if we could help find them. But it’s so cold, it looks like we’re going to be trapped in this igloo until spring. 

Poo-lá-ris. That’s no problem. Wait a minute. (After a short pause) Here, each of you take one of these. 

Jack. What are they?

Poo-lá-ris. They’re molecular body warmers. They work really well. You just put them in your pocket, and they’ll keep you warm as toast. Santa and the elves use them all the time. You can set them to keep your body at just the temperature you want. They’ll keep the air immediately around you at anywhere from 55 to 72 degrees. 

Mary. I think I’ll set mine at 68.

Jack. That may be too warm with sweat gear. I’ll set mine at 60.

Poo-lá-ris. You can turn them down if you get too warm. They work just like electric blankets. 

Mary. Will they keep us warm outside?

Poo-lá-ris. Of course. That’s what they’re for! Incidentally, have the two of you had any experience in locating missing reindeer?

Mary. No.

Jack.  Just a missing cat, once. I was rather hoping you might make a suggestion where we should start.

Poo-lá-ris. We’ll if I were a detective, I think I’d look first in the Pirates’ Lair. Pirates have a very bad habit of taking things that don’t belong to them. 

Mary. Pirates? There are pirates up here in the arctic?

Poo-lá-ris. Of course, there are. The famous Pirates of Penzance. They came up here when things got too tame for them in England.

Jack. But I thought that they reformed. 

Poo-lá-ris. They did - as long as Victoria was Queen. But when she passed away, they relapsed, and returned to their dastardly old ways. 

Mary. Are they dangerous?

Poo-lá-ris. I don’t know. We all give them a wide berth. We’ve all been afraid to find out. 

Mary. Why would pirates steal Santa’s reindeer?

Jack. ‘Cause that’s what pirates do. They steal all sorts of things.  And kidnap people, too, and hold them for ransom.

Mary. But reindeer aren’t people. 

Jack. With Christmas just around the corner, maybe they figured they could get a lot of money from Santa to get his reindeer back.

Poo-lá-ris. Or, a lot of presents - even if they haven’t been good pirates this year!

Jack. Are reindeer edible? Maybe they were hungry.

Poo-lá-ris. I don’t think anyone would be mean enough to eat Santa’s reindeer, but I still think that’s where we should start. 

Jack. Well, I guess if you’re not afraid, neither am I. Let’s go

Mary. Jack, are you sure this is a good idea? I’ve heard pirates make people walk the plank. My female intuition tells me that this is a bad idea.

Poo-lá-ris. Good or not. It’s the only way to find out!

Jack. Okay, Let’s go. 

Poo-lá-ris. Wait! Are you kids hungry?

Mary. Not yet. We had and early dinner. Speaking of dinner, is there any chance that these pirates are cannibals?

Poo-lá-ris. I don’t think so. I’ve never heard anybody say they were. Well, I am hungry.  So, I’m going to grab some peanut-butter chocolate-chip cookies. Hand me that plastic bag over there, please.

Jack. But isn’t that stealing?

Poo-lá-ris. Of course not. This is my den. Are you sure you’re not hungry?

Jack. No; we just ate.

Poo-lá-ris. Nevertheless,  grab some peanut-butter chocolate-chip cookies just in case you get hungry later.  (They all do. After a slight pause) Okay, let’s go.

Mary.  Jack, Are you sure it’s safe to go looking for pirates?

Jack. Probably not. But there’s only one way to find out.

SCENE 4

(There is a door center stage, and a nearby sign. On one side of the door is snow [fabric]; on the other is the pirates’ lair. In the corner of the lair is an electric  fireplace, with glowing embers)

Mary. Look! That signs says, “Avast, Matey! Keep Out! Thet means ye!” I don’t know about this.

Poo-lá-ris. I don’t think the sign applies to us.

Jack. Why not?

Poo-lá-ris. The word, “matey” means “little mate.” The word “mate” has it’s origin in late Middle English: from the middle low German word māt(e). The words mate and meat are related to each other. One would share meat with his mate. With his comrade.

Mary. Are you saying because we don’t share meat with the pirates -- because we don’t eat with them -- we’re not their mates, and that the sign has no application to us?

Poo-lá-ris. Precisely. Isn’t that obvious?

Mary. Not to me! .... Are you sure?

Poo-lá-ris. Certainly I’m sure. If you have any doubts whatever you can check the dictionary. Actually, I’m a bit hurt to think you distrust me. If you’d rather not go on....

Jack. No. No!  We have to go on. We’ve got to find Santa’s reindeer before Christmas eve. 

Mary. And I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. 

Poo-lá-ris. In that case, why doesn’t one of you open the door?

Mary. Why one of us?

Poo-lá-ris. In case I’m wrong, of course. There is always the possibility that these pirates are not as proficient in English usage as I am, and that they may have misused the word. What if they all dropped out of school?

Jack. I’m not afraid. I’ll do it.

Mary. It’s rather dark in here.

Poo-lá-ris. The only light is from the embers in the fireplace, and they’re almost out.

Mary. Do you suppose there’s a light switch, somewhere?

Jack. If there is, it should be by a door.

Poo-lá-ris.  Isn’t that another door over there, next to the fireplace?

Jack. I think so, but it’s hard to tell in this dark.

Poo-lá-ris. I’ll check. (He trips in the dark) Ohhh! (We hear him fall on the floor)

Samuel (Samantha) the Pirate. Ahoy, there! Avast ye lubber. Avast! 

Frederick (Freddie) the Pirate. What ho, Lieutenant? Be ye having another of yer infernal nightmares, again? Be it something ye ate again?

Sam. Aargh! ‘Twer nothing I et, Fred. Some scurvy dog of a baboon strode atop me head?

Fred. By Davy Jones' locker, ‘tweren’t me, Lieutenant. I be nestled here in me bed roll, cozy as an Atlantic cod a-baking in lemon sauce in the ship’s oven.

Sam. Well, by the Powers!  It were somebody. 

Captain.  Aargh! What’s all the commotion in here, ye squiffy bunch of bilious bilge rats?

Fred. Captain, Surr!  Sam here, that is, the Lieutenant here, avers that some lily-livered lout tromped on his crown!

Sam. Aye. What Fred here says be true, Captain!  

Captain. (In the dark) By the dog! Who here stepped on the the Lieutenant’s noggin. (A pause) Own up, I say. Or when I finds ye out, I’ll keel haul the scurvy jack.

Fred. Me thinks, Captain, should ye not beat to general quarters, and prepare to repeal borders? Afore we be scuttled!

Captain. Aye! Get the lights, me hearties! (Sound as lights are brought up) 

Sam. Look, Captain!

Captain. ‘sBlood! Who be ye? What be  they doing here?

Fred. ‘struth! We be boarded, Captain!

Poo-lá-ris. It’s the Pirates of Penzance!

Captain. Right ye are, Matey. Them we be!

Jack. They don’t look like pirates. They look like a bunch of decrepit, old senior citizens in worn-out flannel pajamas!

Captain. Zounds! Decrepit senior citizens, says ye! Aargh!

Sam.  Blimey! Me thinks we be insulted, Captain. 

Captain. Aye, Lieutenant.  (We hear swords coming from their sheathes) Prepare to repel borders, me lads!  Chop, ‘em to pieces!

Mary. Wait, please. We’re unarmed!

Sam. ‘sfoot, Captain. ‘tis a mere wee winsome wench.

Captain. Stand and deliver, or we’ll run ye all through!

Jack. We give up!

Poo-lá-ris. Goodness me! I should have stayed in my den!

Captain. Who be ye?

Jack. I’m Jack, and this is my twin sister, Mary. And this is our friend, Poo-lá-ris.

Mary. He’s a polar bear. 

Sam. Would ye have us load ‘em with chains, Captain, Sir?

Fred. Or would ye have us prepare the plank?

Poo-lá-ris. (to Jack and Mary) Wait! I’ve heard these pirates never molest orphans - all being orphans themselves.  (To pirates) Would it do any good for us to say that we’re “orphans?”

Sam. Orphans?

Fred. Not again!

Sam. Ods bodkins! How be it that every ship we be about to scuttle be manned entirely by orphans?

Fred.  And nothing but orphans!

Poo-lá-ris. Wait! Before we claim to be orphans, would it do us any good?

Captain. By Long John Silver’s  Peg Leg, it would! Being orphans ourselves, we never molest orphans. 

Fred. We have a soft spot, thar (pointing to his heart), in our otherwise ruthless hearts for orphans.

Sam. Then, by Flint’s spyglass, be ye all then claiming to be orphans? 

Mary. No. Mother says we should never tell a lie. I have a lovely mother and father.

Sam. (To Jack)  And what about you, me hearty?

Captain. (To Sam) Why, you blithering bilge rat, they be twins! 

Sam.  I don’t follow ye, Captain?

Captain. If they be twins, and if the lass has a mother and father, the lad can’t be an orphan, neither, ye scurvy biscuit eating dog. 

Sam. (Still not adding two and two) But what if his father and mother be deceased?

Fred. Sam, lad. Twins have the same father and mother. If she be not an orphans, neither be he.

Sam. I still don’t get it!

Fred. I think it be hopeless, Captain.

Captain.  By Long John’s parrot’s beak,  So do I!

Fred. Then if they ain’t being orphans, what be we doing with ‘em, Captain?

Captain. ‘sBlood. It’s been so long since we’ve had prisoners, I be unable to recall the proper protocols.  I needs a moment to rack me brain! (A short pause)  Aye, maybe even to consult me book on how to be a proper pirate king!

Sam. Aye, Captain. The proper protocol will, no doubt, be succinctly stated in Captain Blood’s Pithy Guide to Pillage and Predation for Profit and Pleasure. 

Captain. Aye. Fetch, me me tome, Samuel.

Sam. Aye, Captain. 

Captain. In the meantime, by Captain Hook’s hook, it they try to escape, I’ll shiver their timbers and mizzen their masts. 

Fred and Sam. Aye. Aaargh! (Sam exits)

(Lights dim momentarily and they come back up to same level)

Sam. (Returning) I found your [“bible”] [book], Captain: Captain Blood’s Concise Guide to Pillage and Predation, for Profit and Pleasure!

Captain. Read to me, Sam, lad. What do the good book thar charge us to do with captives?

Fred. I seems to recall it stipulating either keelhauling, or the cat o’ nine tales. 

Sam. Sorry to be disobeying your orders, Captain. But I ain’t never larned to read.

Captain. Fred, lad, then you be reading to your old captain.

Fred. Blimey, Captain, sir, but I ain’t never been learned to read, neither. Could ye not be reading yerself, sir?

Captain. Aye, I could indeed, (pause. He is lying) if the print weren’t so small.

Sam. Would ye like to try me spectacles, Captain?

Captain. And let the sprogs that pass for me crew see their Captain wearing spectacles? They’d take me for a lily-livered lubber. Who ever heared of a pirate king wearing bifocals?

Sam. Ahoy, Captain. Old Samuel, here, has got an idea!

Captain. Out with it, Matey!

Sam. Might not one of the prisoners be able to read it for us?

Captain. By Neptune’s locker! A capital idea, my good Lieutenant! (To the captives) Might any of ye be of assistance to us in reading from this good book? Can any of ye read?

Poo-lá-ris. Not only can I read. I am uncommonly proficient in diction and usage. I’m absolutely certain that I might be of assistance. 

Jack. Poo-lá-ris, are you sure this is a good idea? Remember what happened last time.

Mary. When you read the sign that said, “Avast, Matey! Keep Out!

Poo-lá-ris. Surely you don’t blame me for the atrocious usage that passes for the King’s English among this gaggle of benighted buccaneers!

Captain. (Interrupting) Can any of ye, read or not. We haven’t all day.

Mary.  You haven’t all day for what?

Captain. To deal with lubbers three who have officiously boarded our ship and disrupted our midnight slumbers. 

Fred. Should we give them the “black spot,” Captain, sir?

Poo-lá-ris.  What do you need read from this book, sir?

Captain. Captain Blood’s protocol for dealing with contemptible captives,  ye scurvy dog.

Poo-lá-ris. I dislike being called a “dog,” Sir. After all, I am a bear!

Sam. You’ll be sweet meat for sharks, if you don’t get on with it!

Poo-lá-ris. (Reading aloud) Ah, here we are!. Captives..... There are a number of sub-topics dealing with various kinds of captives .... Let’s see... Archbishops .... bishops... Dukes.... Haughty ladies,... Lovely Ladies in Distress ,,, Lords ... Rich Widows .... Wealthy Men .... Wealthy Women .... (He pauses) I see nothing about 9 year-old twins and juvenile polar bears.

Fred. Then I say, “over the sides with them.” Make ‘em walk the plank!

Captain. What good would that do? Were presently not aboard the “Jolly Roger!” They’d just be jumping off into a snow drift.

Sam. I votes to hold them for ransom?

Mary. We don’t have any money!

Sam. Is yer father a Duke or Lord, or Wealthy Wine Merchant, or something?

Jack. Nope. He’s just a sports-writer for the local newspaper?

Captain. What’s a “sports-writer?”

Mary. He writes about the Chicago Cubs.

Captain. And who be they be?

Mary. They’re a baseball team, in the National League.

Fred. I’ve heared of ‘em, Captain. They be in the National League, all right, but from what I heared there not be what any sane individual would call a “baseball team.”

Sam. Could he pay a ransom?

Fred. If he be writing about the Cubs, it’s dubious.?

Captain. So what do ye have that ye might buy your freedom with?

Jack. We don’t have a thing. We came here to help Santa hunt for his missing reindeer.

Mary. We came here because we heard you were pirates, and we thought you might have stolen them.

Captain. You! Polar Bear person, thar. Is there anything in me pirate book about polar bear ransom?

Poo-lá-ris. (A slight pause) No, Sir.

Captain. (To Sam and Fred) Have either of ye heard anything about any the lads swashbucklin’ any reindeer, of late?

Fred and Sam. Nay, Captain.

Captain. (To twins and Poo-lá-ris) It appears then, that ye boarded the wrong man-o-war. So unless, ye can be paying your way out, it appears we will have to keep you here to swab our decks and bail our bilge.

Jack. Do you like peanut butter chocolate chip cookies?

Fred. Aaargh! They be our favorites!

Sam. Fiddlers’ Green! If they be not the very reason we adhere to this “sweet trade.”

Mary. If we could get you some, would you let us go?

Sam. Blimey! Sounds like a fair bargain, Captain. 

Captain. Aye. Indeed a fair trade it would be.

Mary. How about two cookies a piece?

Captain. Shiver me timbers and by the black spot, ye struck yerselves a bargain. Make over the loot, and ye be free as John Silver’s  parrot.

Jack. Poo-lá-ris, give them the cookies.

Poo-lá-ris. With pleasure! Anything to get out of here. (Giving the cookies to the pirates)

Captain. (Eating, with cookies in his mouth) By all of Blackbeard’s treasure! These doubloons be softer and sweeter than pieces o’eight!  On yer way with ye, afore I changes me mind! 

Jack. Let’s get out of here. (We hear the door open) 

Captain. Avast Mateys. If its marooned or missing reindeer ye be seeking, I suggests ye be checking with Warnock, the polar Wizard. He has a crystal ball. Perchance, he can point ye in the right direction! 

Jack. Thanks, Captain. We will. 

(We hear the door slam shut)

(Lights down)

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