The Christmas Reindeer

 “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

CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that “THE CHRISTMAS REINDEER” is subject to a royalty.  It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, the British Commonwealth, including Canada, and all other countries of the Copyright Union.  All rights, including professional, amateur, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, and the rights of translation into foreign language are strictly reserved. 

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Royalty of the required amount must be paid whether the play is presented for charity or gain, and whether or not admission is charged.  For all other rights than those stipulated above, apply to Drama Source Company, 1588 E. 361 N. St. Anthony, Idaho 83445.

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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.

The Christmas Reindeer

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