A Christmas Carol Adaptation

Alas, no theater company in Portland has mounted a production of the Charles Dickens holiday chestnut, A Christmas Carol, this year. Nor is any company producing an evening of playlets written by Mr. Dickens' contemporary, Barnaby McScrivener (pictured at right). Indeed, no theater company has ever produced a play by Mr. McScrivener, despite his having been at the cutting-edge of his generation's carol-based stage adaptation movement.

Recently, I was delighted to discover a rich trove (is there any other kind of trove?) of Mr. McScrivener's wee theatrical gems tucked away in a moldering trunk for over a century. These dramatic arts niblets tell simple stories--nay, morality tales--drawn from popular holiday carols.

So, without further ado, I invite you to gather the family by a crackling fire, fill your nog mugs, and enjoy one of Mr. McScrivener's Christmas Carol playlets. Better yet, host a staged reading for all your friends. (Please silence your cell phones now.)

Christmastime: It’s Coming

Personae Dramatis:
Abelard McChuffery II: A portly fellow with muttonchops.
Milton Harcourt Fishpicket, Esq: A thin, reedy, elderly man with common features.

Note to Directors: Do not rush the conversation. Pauses should carry as much dramatic freight as the very words themselves.

Setting:
A country road. Snowdrifts. We hear the whistling of the wind and the occasional honking of geese. It is evening and bitter cold. The drear light should fade gradually through the course of the play.

The lights rise on two men wearing ratty overcoats, heavy work boots, and fur hats. They are cold. One of them, Milton, is staring off stage. He leans forward, squinting toward a distant spot.

MILTON:
Do you see that?

ABELARD:
What?

MILTON:
The geese.
Over there.
Look at them.

ABELARD:
Yeah.
Canadian Geese.
What about them?

MILTON:
Canada Geese.

ABELARD:
What?

MILTON:
They’re Canada Geese, not Canadian.

ABELARD:
No kidding?
That doesn’t sound right.

MILTON:
It is.
You can look it up.
Canada Geese.

ABELARD:
I will.
What about them?

MILTON:
Fat.
Can’t you see that?
[looks again, and points]
You can see that, can’t you?

ABELARD:
What are you talking about?

MILTON:
[pointing insistently]
The geese… over there.

ABELARD:
I hadn’t noticed.
What about them?

MILTON:
They’re getting’ fat.
[He looks more closely]
Fatter.
Yeah, they’re fatter than they used to be.

ABELARD:
You’re right.
They are getting fat.
Fatter.

MILTON:
You’ve seen them before?

ABELARD:
Sure I have.
But never that fat.
They really are quite fat ... for geese.
You know what that means don't you?

MILTON:
No. What?

ABELARD:
Christmastime is coming.

MILTON:
What’s that got to do with it?

ABELARD:
You said the geese are getting fat. And they are. That’s what.

MILTON:
Yeah?

ABELARD:
They get ...
They get fatter.
Geese do.

MILTON:
Geese? When?

ABELARD:
You know, when Christmas is coming.
When it’s Christmastime.
When Christmastime is...well...when it’s coming.

MILTON:
That makes no sense.
You’d think they would be getting thinner.
All that flying.
Migrating.
All that migrating.
[turning to Abelard]
Hey, how did you know about the fat thing?

ABELARD:
[shrugs]
I don’t know.
It’s just something I heard.
Something I heard about geese.

MILTON:
I guess.
I just think it’s weird.
I don’t like it.
I don't like it at all.

ABELARD:
I get that.
Nobody likes fat Canadian geese.

MILTON:
Canada Geese.

ABELARD:
You sure?

[Milton shrugs. They stand in silence for a full minute, getting colder--stamping feet, rubbing their arms and hands, etc. The sound of honking geese recedes in the distance while they continue to look offstage]

ABELARD:
Say, Milton, have you got a penny?

MILTON:
What?

ABELARD:
A penny.

MILTON:
I thought you said something else.

ABELARD:
No. I said "penny."
Do you have one?
[he gets no response]
Milton?

MILTON:
[annoyed]
Why? Why do you want…
What was it again?
A penny?

ABELARD:
I’ve always wanted one.
More would be nice, but one is what I need.
Have you got one?

MILTON:
[He starts to check his pockets]
I might. Just a second.
[He searches quite a while]

ABELARD:
No hurry.

[Milton keeps searching, pulling diverse items from his pockets. A parasol, a live dove, and an anvil should be among the items retrieved. Eventually Milton collects a handful of coins, which he examines carefully.]

MILTON:
Sorry, I don’t have one after all.
[He puts the coins back in his pockets]
Will anything else do?
[He pulls a banana from his coat pocket and shows it to Abelard]
Fresh fruit?

ABELARD:
[Thinks about it]
A ha’penny?

MILTON:
What’s that?

ABELARD:
I think it’s half a penny.

MILTON:
There’s no such thing.

ABELARD:
Just look.
Humor me.

[Milton searches his pockets until he has a handful of coins again. He sorts through them one-by-one]

MILTON:
Quarter…quarter…nickel…dime…peso…another quarter…Canada dime…
[surprised]
Hey, what ho?

[Milton holds up a small coin, then searches frantically through his pockets until he finds a jeweler’s loupe, which he uses to examine the coin.]

I’ll be damned!
It says half penny.
I thought it would be like…you know…
like cut in half or something.
But it's not.
Do you still want it?

ABELARD:
It’ll do.
If you don’t have a whole penny, that is.

MILTON:
Okay then. It's yours.

ABELARD:
[removes his hat and holds it open, shaking it at Milton].
Put it in the hat.

MILTON:
What?

ABELARD:
I think you’re supposed to put the ha’penny in the hat.

MILTON:
In that hat?
Okay, old man.

[He tosses the coin in the hat. We hear it striking several coins already in the hat.]

ABELARD:
God bless you.

MILTON:
Is that all?

ABELARD:
I think so.
It’s getting dark.

MILTON:
You're right.
It is getting dark.
Hey, Abelard?

ABLELARD:
What, Milton?

MILTON:
I lied.

ABELARD:
About what?

MILTON:
The penny.
I lied about the penny.
I had one.

ABELARD:
I know.

MILTON:
You knew?

ABELARD:
I knew.

MILTON:
Do you mind saying it again anyway?

ABELARD:
What?

MILTON:
That thing you said.

ABELARD:
God bless you?

MILTON:
That's it.
You too.
God bless you.
[He looks out into the field again]
Canada Geese?
[shakes his head, chuckling]
No kidding.

[Fade to dark]

END OF PLAY

NEXT UP: The Jingle Caper