A play in
one act by Maura Campbell
233 Crescent Road,
802/660-7906;
ibsen3000@yahoo.com
SCENE 1
A storage shed. Dim light. Lots of boxes. The SOUND OF SOMEONE MAKING HER WAY IN THE DARK, stumbling, crashing, etc. She wears a headlamp.
The SOUND
OF A LIGHT BULB BEING
SCREWED
IN. Then light, an eerie,
greenish
light.
Whoa, looks weird.
She
unscrews the light bulb and screws in
another
one. Now the light is red.
Awash in blood!
She
unscrews the light bulb and screws in
another
one. Now the light is pale blue.
That ‘s better.
She leans
forward conspiratorially.
I lifted these. Okay, I stole them. The orange one didn’t work. I mean, if someone had actually laid out
cash, they would have gotten them home, found out the orange one didn’t work
and demanded a refund. Then the store
would have tossed them. So I just picked
them out of the trash prematurely. One
does what one must to get by in this world.
She looks
around.
Nice place! Needs a little rearranging, but fortunately
I’m good at that.
She looks
at a box.
Hello! Computer labels. You know what that means? High class stuff in these boxes. You can always tell by the labels. The richer they are the more time they spend
labeling their crap. And look what
else. Color coded! This one says… the playroom.
She takes
out a Swiss army knife.
A present. From my last storage shed.
She
rips open the box and takes out a large STUFFED LAMB.
Company!
She hugs
the lamb tightly.
You look like a little lost
lamb. All alone in that big box. Why would anyone put you in that big box by
yourself? Okay, Lost Lamb, why don’t I
make some tea. Do lost lambs drink
tea? Everyone drinks tea. Somewhere in
here I’ll bet we find…
She
starts looking at boxes, reading labels.
Playroom, playroom,
playroom… playroom… Frannie’s room, Frannie’s room, Frannie’s room… Do you suppose Frannie was a girl? Probably.
I mean, boys can be named Frannie.
Francis. Frannie for short. It’s a pretty rotten trick to call a boy
Frannie, but these things do happen. I
knew a boy named Claire once. Can you
imagine? He wore these big glasses and
he chirped like a bird just for fun.
Once I said, “Claire, why do you chirp like a bird? Don’t you know everyone makes fun of
you?” And you know what he said? “Chirp.”
That was Claire. Okay, what else
have we got. Christmas. Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. Christmas and more Christmas. Frannie, playroom and Christmas. Well, that’s no help.
She
stands up suddenly.
Christmas! Of course!
We’ll pretend it Christmas! We’re
going to have a Christmas party!
She tears
open a box and pulls out a Santa’s
hat. She puts it on.
Ho, ho, ho! (To LAMB.) So Lost Lamb, have you been
naughty or nice this year? … Naughty? I
don’t believe it. No such thing as
naughty. Rascally. Wait!
That’s for rabbits. Lambs are,
well, you’re just too cute! Quiet. But cute.
What have we here…
She pulls
out a small artificial tree.
Now we’re talking! I’ll bet… I’ll bet there’s Christmas lights
in here.
She
begins to open more boxes.
We’ll have this place decked
out lickety split!
She
takes out an artificial wreath. She looks around, sees a nail on the wall and
puts it there.
How does that look?
She
notices the LAMB is facing the audience.
Oh, sorry.
She turns
it around.
What do you think? Not bad, huh?
I don’t know why people buy fake stuff like this for Christmas. I mean, lucky for us now. But how hard it is to go out in the woods and
cut down a tree?
She finds
ornaments in another box and begins
to
decorate the tree.
I told you this was a high
class storage shed. These decorations
cost plenty. You know how I can
tell? Price tags still on the
boxes. Twenty four ninety nine. For six ornaments! That’s uh… that’s uh… let’s see, twenty four
round up to thirty… that’s more than you and I have, I can tell you that. We made our decorations out of egg
cartons. Did you ever think of
that? I mean, we cut them up. We didn’t put a whole egg carton on the tree,
for crying out loud. Then painted them,
glued on glitter. Then we strung popcorn
and made these things out of construction paper, little stars and circles. I’m saying we, I mean me and my sister. Abby.
Abigail. We don’t talk much
anymore. She’s, well, there’s too much
of an age difference. Two years. We didn’t have much in common. It happens in families, right?… Okay, get
ready. There’s an outlet in here
somewhere, just hang on… You ready,
little lamb? Here we go!
She plugs
in the tree – nothing happens.
Well, what do you know. A bum set of lights. After all that. Ha, ha, the jokes on me. But still, it looks pretty… pretty. Even without the lights. A few minutes ago I didn’t even think about
Christmas. Now I’m complaining about the
lights. Anybody saw us in here, they’d
think we were crazy. “Look at those two
fools having a Christmas party in the middle of… Now, I know we had Halloween… just a little…
you know how I know that? Some teenagers
said to me on the street, “Great costume!”
And you know what I said?
“Thanks!” Just like that. “Thanks.”
That was our conversation.
“Thanks.” I like the sound of
it. I said it for the rest of the
day. Every time I walked by someone who
stared at me. I said, “thanks.” And you know what? Not a single person said, “you’re
welcome.” That’s society today. No manners whatever.
The lights
from the tree go on suddenly.
Hey! Look at that!
What do you know! It’s Christmas
after all.
The
lights go off.
Now what in blazes…
She goes
over and fiddles with the cord. Still
no
light.
We’ll have to find another
extension-
The
lights go back on.
So we have to put up with
this all night. That’s just great.
The
lights go back off.
Cut it out! Just cut it out!
The
lights go back on. She yanks the cord
out of the wall and throws it. Then she
turns over some boxes angrily.
You think this is funny,
well it’s not! You can’t make a promise
and then break it whenever you feel like it!
She goes
over and sits in a corner. She plays
with the
fabric of her coat in an effort to soothe
herself,
much like a young child would.
I’m not playing anymore!
She
gets up and throws the lamb across the room.
She goes back to her corner and puts
her
head down. The tree lights come back on.
After
a moment her head comes up. She takes
in
that something unusual has happened.
Slowly, she gets up and goes over to the cord.
She
picks up the end and sees the plug that
is
still unconnected to the wall.
Holy… teapot!
Christmas
lights come up on the walls,
Unnoticeable
before. The room is ablaze with
color. Slowly, she goes over and picks up the
lamb and
comes back to her corner.
I don’t think we’re in
A box
lights up from behind. Soft refrains
from,
“Have
Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” play.
She
goes over to the box and opens it. There
are several wrapped presents inside. She
takes out the last one – the music seems to come from inside it. She takes it
out.
The music
gets louder. She sings along a little.
she
unwraps the present. It’s a lovely music
box
playing that song. The music stops. She
is
a little
teary.
You should hear Wayne Newton
sing that song! Oh, my Lamb. How could I have been so cruel to you! Can you ever forgive me?
She hugs
the lamb.
I’ll tell you the
problem. I’ve always had a thing about
Christmas. It’s not my favorite
holiday. You know why? Because I never got what I wanted. Isn’t that childish? All the starving children in the world and I
griped because I didn’t get the toys I wanted.
I used to make these bargains with God.
Please God, I’d say, just bring me, oh whatever it was, a puppy. Okay, I wanted a puppy. Is that so bad? Is it abnormal? Doesn’t every kid want one? I wanted a Golden Retriever. So I made this bargain. I said I’d never ask
for anything again as long as I lived, not even my own room, if I could have a
puppy. But I didn’t get one. Not ever.
Of course, now I could. If I
wanted. But would it be fair? I mean, what does every puppy want? A kid!
You know what the worst part is?
Somewhere out there was a puppy that needed a home. And I didn’t give it to him. How do you ever make up for that?
She rubs
her hands together.
You cold? How could you be cold. Look at that coat you’re wearing. Must be a drag in the summer. Of course, you’ve been in that box. Sometimes these storage sheds are
heated. Not this time! But… do you suppose there might be an
electric blanket in one of these boxes?
Oh, that would be heaven. That
would be almost as good as a Golden Retriever puppy.
She
rearranges the boxes in such a way as to create a short half wall down stage
center. There is much splitting open of
tape, cutting with the Swiss army knife, etc.
Newspaper is
flying
as she unwraps stuff.
Course, it would help if
even one of these boxes said kitchen.
With my Swiss army knife I can open just about anything. Canned beans, evaporated milk. Course, there’s always boxes of
spaghetti. That’s where the evaporated
milk comes in. You soak the spaghetti in
the milk for, oh, an hour or so. The
beans I just eat out of the can. .. Okay, I’ve got it figured out now. Frannie’s a girl.
She
places two Barbie dolls on the boxes –
Get ready
for a “puppet show”.
BARBIE #1
Hi, Barbie.
BARBIE #2
Hi, Barb.
BARBIE #1
You look great in that
bikini.
BARBIE #2
Yeah, well, I try to keep my
figure.
BARBIE #1
Seen Ken?
BARBIE #2
Not since he gave me a
backrub this morning. Ha, ha.
BARBIE #1
Yeah, well, I’ve got a
wedding dress in a box over there. Looks
like you’ve got
a stewardess outfit. Ha, ha.
BARBIE #2
That’s just because Ken
thinks stewardesses are sexy. He likes me to get dressed up and play
seven-forty-seven.
BARBIE #1
Oh, yeah, well, fly the
Friendly Skies, dirt bag!
BARBIE
#1 kicks #2. She falls from the box
backwards into the box.
Oops. Ha, ha.
BARBIE
looks at the audience for a moment.
The WOMAN
puts BARBIE’S arms up, then
simulates
a swan dive into the box. The WOMAN
looks in the box.
WOMAN
Wait a minute, wait a
minute.
She grabs
a piece of crumbled newspaper and
straightens
it out and looks at it.
January 26 – what’s that
say?… Hm. I was born in, let’s see..
. Hm.
If I round it up to… okay, that means it… Lambie! These boxes have been in here for… twenty
years! That’s if I don’t round up. If I
round up, it’s been thirty. Thirty
years! No wonder all Ken has left is his
leg!
She
grabs another piece of newspaper and looks at it, then another and another…
She
goes back to the box of Christmas ornaments and looks inside. She takes
out
a small box. Inside is an ornament, she
reads
it as she puts it on the tree.
“My fifth Christmas.” None of these presents were ever opened. Lamb Bone?
I don’t think Frannie had Christmas that year. Maybe… maybe they had to move all of a
sudden. It happens, I ought to
know… And they couldn’t fit everything
into their new house and anyway, Christmas got over, it’s only for one day for
crying out loud, it’s over before you know it.
And they thought, well, we’ll open these next year, but next year they
wanted different stuff. People change,
isn’t that what life’s all about, Lambo?
What the use of Wedding Day Barbie when what you really want is a… well,
let’s say Frannie wanted a chemistry set next year. Once you want a chemistry set, there’s no
going back to Barbies. (Pause.) Boy, I
could use some spaghetti and evaporated milk! (Thinks of that. Then)
Let’s see what else Frannie got for Christmas! Maybe there’s something for you!
She
unwraps another present.
A diary! With a key!
I always wanted one of these.
Lamb-baby, this Frannie was five years old and they gave her a diary. Do you know what that means?
She could write. No kidding.
She was… probably a genius. Let’s
see, she’d be thirty five now. I’ll bet she’s already invented something. Something big. How many people do you know that could write
by the time they were five? Not me,
that’s for sure. Not Abby, although I’m
pretty sure she could swear by then. She
was really good at it. But she couldn’t
write those swears down. Not at
five. At ten, maybe. Once she wrote them all over the
sidewalk. But nobody, I mean nobody
would have said, gee, that Abby and her sister, why doesn’t somebody give them
a diary? I mean, you’ve got to do
something of note to have a diary.
Otherwise, who would care? “Dear
Diary, today I walked to school and threw rocks at a truck.” Do you think that would go into the history
books? Don’t kid yourself, there’s no
way. This Frannie, she’s a mover and a
shaker. I had this teacher once, and
she’d say to us, “Class, you’ll never get ahead unless you’re a mover and a
shaker.” I never knew what she meant
until now. Isn’t that terrific? All this time I didn’t know and I just
figured it out. Frannie, on the other
hand, if you said the same thing to her – about moving and shaking – even at
the age of five… she’s smile knowingly.
Did you like that? I put it in a
short story I wrote. “She smiled
knowingly.” The teacher circled it and
said, “Good description.” I showed it to
Abby. She said, all right, so what did
she know, anyway? And I said, I don’t
have to tell you, you can figure it out in context. Context!
Abby didn’t even know what a context was. And I was glad I didn’t have to explain it
because I didn’t know either, but the teacher was always saying we’d figure it
out from the context. And then sometimes
she’d look at me and she’d say, do you know what I’m talking about? And I’d smile knowingly. So it worked out for me.
Well. I don’t suppose Frannie would mind if I took
the diary… I don’t think she’s coming back for it. Not after thirty years. Look, it’s got a pretty pen, too.
She
scribbles.
Still works. Okay, Lambert.
She puts
the diary and pen in front of the lamb.
At some
point in this speech she opens a big
box and
takes out a small rocking chair and
rocks in
it.
Take a letter. Today’s date, well, just say it’s
Christmas. Got that? Okay.
The first entry of my diary.
Today I woke early and… made plans.
I made plans for the day that included… visiting my friends and…
delivering Christmas cheer. That took
most of the day. Then I had an ample
dinner of Christmas style food. And I
ended the day – well, the day’s not over, exactly – don’t write that down! I ended the day by opening presents and
making plans for tomorrow. Wait. Just say I opened presents. I’ll make plans tomorrow. Don’t write that down. I’m just saying it. I’m just – getting started on this diary
business. You know what? If I became famous, I know it will never
happen, but I’m making a point. So don’t
laugh. If I became famous then all this
boring normal stuff I do and write about in my diary would be interesting! It would be fascinating to think that such a
famous person had such ordinary thoughts.
Well. I almost became famous
once. Otherwise I wouldn’t even bring it
up. Okay, ask me. What did I do to almost become famous. I
don’t like bragging, but it slipped out.
Want to know? I don’t mind telling. It’s my… it’s the best thing I ever did. I saved someone’s life. Yes, I did.
I did. I saved someone’s life. Scout’s honor, I wasn’t a scout, but you get
the idea. This little boy, Rory
Tuttle. Rory Tuttle was drowning in the
river. His mother was talking away to
some other mother – I don’t know why all the kids weren’t drowning. He was splashing around and then the current
got him. And I was yelling at his mother
and she was talking away, waving her arms, laughing at some stupid thing she
was saying and Rory was headed downstream.
So I went in and got him. Just
like that. He almost drowned me, I had a
big scratch on my shoulder where he got me.
Poor little kid. And then I took
him to his mother and you know what she did?
She slapped him. She slapped him
for wandering away and then looked at me like it was all my fault. Well, I thought that was the end of it, but
the newspaper reporter came to talk to me.
Because I wasn’t any bigger than Rory.
A year older, but no bigger. I
was kind of a runty little thing, I guess.
They called and said they were coming, I got dressed up and you know
what happened? Abby locked me in my
room. Told the newspaper reporter I was
gone for the summer. And that was the
end of it. I guess it just wasn’t a big
enough story for him to come back. But I
think of it still. I think, well, if
he’d taken my picture and put it in the newspaper, someone might have seen it
and then you never know. And that’s how
I was almost famous… You didn’t write any of that, did you? Everyone will think I’m blowing my own
horn! It’s one thing to read it in the
newspaper. Well. That’s the only big thing I ever did.
Hey, Lambkins… do you think,
maybe… Frannie… died?
A long
moment, the WOMAN thinks about it.
That would be really… crappy. Bad enough she didn’t get to open her
presents.
She goes
back to the tree and handles an
ornament.
“My fifth Christmas.”
Now a
little angry.
Well, doesn’t that just beat
the band. You’d think her parents would
at least have given her presents to some poor kid that wanted them. I mean, do you think poor Frannie’s buried
somewhere in these boxes, too? Along
with Ken’s leg? What kind of parents
would just leave her in a storage shed?
Huh? Well, we’ll just have to see
about that, won’t we?
She
starts digging through more boxes. She
finds a
child’s bedspread and pillows.
Okay, okay, we’ll just put
the bed over here –
She
arranges some boxes into a bed shape.
You know, I’ve been in a lot
of storage sheds in my life, Lambie, but this one takes the cake. Sort of a lost Christmas shed. And you’re a lost lamb. But at least you’re out of that box. Okay.
She puts
on the bedspread and places the
pillows.
Not bad, not bad. If Frannie came in here she’d be right at
home. And look at this –
She takes
several more stuffed animals out of
box.
More company!
She puts
them on the bed.
And we’ll make a dresser
over here-
She
arranges more boxes to make a dresser.
-oh, I always wanted a room
like this!
She winds
up the music box and places it on
the
dresser. It plays a moment and then
she
shuts the lid. Quiet a moment. She takes
a rug out of another box and holds it up.
It
has a picture of SANTA CLAUS and says,
“BELIEVE.”
She reads it and laughs. She
takes
it over to the “company” on the bed.
Okay, guys. You see what Santa says? I want to hear you say it, say, “I
believe.” One, two, three…
The
stuffed animals don’t reply. The WOMAN
more or
less speaks to the audience.
One, two three… “I believe.”
Can you say it a little louder?
“I believe.”
She puts
the rug on the floor.
I almost forgot about the
presents!
She takes
the wrapped gifts out of the boxes
and
places them under the tree. She reads
one.
“Breakable.”
She mimes
a clumsy clown, the package goes
up
in the air, but she catches it safely.
She shakes and pokes at each present as she puts it under the tree,
making comments such as…
Must be clothes… a book…
ooh, shouldn’t have shook that one… chocolates… a doll… some assembly required…
She gets
to the last gift, a small package.
“Open me last.”
She
shakes it.
“Open me last.” Wow.
Must be special.
She
opens the box and looks inside. A moment
of recognition, then a gasp. She is
somewhere else for a moment, confused,
then
she seems to make up her mind about something.
She picks up the diary and pen and goes and sits in the rocking
chair. She looks around, satisfied. She hums, “Have Yourself A Merry Little
Christmas,” very softly and writes as the lights go down slowly.
“Merry Christmas, Frannie,
from all your friends and family.”
A
few moments in the dark. Then up on an
empty storage shed.
WOMAN(offstage)
I said stay in the car! Two minutes, do you hear me! Christine, watch your
brother! No, I don’t want you to lock the car! I left you his books so you
could read to him! Two minutes!
A
rattling noise as she unlocks the storage
shed. She enters in the dark. A little light
from
outside illuminates the shed. She sees
the light
bulb overhead and screws it in.
Lights
come up.
What the-
She
takes out a piece of paper and looks it over.
Number 16.
She goes
out and looks at the number on the
door then
comes back in.
This is some kind of joke.
Her cell
phone rings.
Hello, Rory?… Yes, I found
it… you wouldn’t believe me if I told you… it must be my Mother’s idea of a
joke… it’s decorated for Christmas in here.
I mean decorated! There’s a tree,
presents… It’s like a… kid’s room… why on earth would she pay storage all these
years… yeah, well, if she wasn’t dead I’d ask her! What am I supposed to do with all this
stuff?… It’s creepy…Hold on a minute, I want to see what the kids are doing…
She goes
to the door.
Christine! You guys all right?… Just a minute… your father’s on the phone…
yes, I’ll tell him…
Back to
the phone.
They want to string popcorn
tonight, I’m supposed to tell you… We’ll
have to microwave it, the air popper broke…
She is
poking around, things begin to look
a little
familiar to her.
How do I know what’s wrong
with it, it won’t pop! The blender won’t
blend, the dishwasher won’t wash, I might as well be living in the nineteenth
century! I’m not yelling! All right, I’m yelling! I hate Christmas! I’m sorry… Maybe you should
deal with this stuff, I
think Mother must have lost her mind…
She
opens the music box, it plays a moment and she shuts the lid. She walks over to the “bed” and picks up the
lamb.
Uh huh… Uh huh… (She is not
listening.) Rory? Honey?
I’ve got to go. No, I’m fine… I’m
all right… I think I’m…
She sits
on the bed.
I’m fine… Remember the year
my father left?… Yeah, the Christmas that never was. Oh, God… No, stay at work. I’m fine..
Let me just check on the…
She goes
to the door.
Chrissie’s reading to
him… They’re fine… I’m fine… I’ll see
you tonight…
She hangs
up. She sits back on the bed.
This is too weird.
She
sees the rug on the floor. She goes over
and picks it up. She holds it up to the
audience. She looks at it and then puts
it
back
on the floor. While she is looking down
at
the floor, the CHRISTMAS TREE lights flicker.
She doesn’t notice.
In
spite of herself, she goes over to the tree and kneels down. She pokes and shakes
each
present.
Then she
picks up the present that says,
“open me
last.”
“Open me last.”
Slowly,
she opens the present. She takes
out a dog
collar.
I was going to get a puppy?
The tree lights are blazing. She is startled.
What? God!
She
quickly looks for the cord, finds it and
unplugs
the lights. She laughs a little
hysterically, then covers her mouth. She
sees
the
diary and picks it up. She opens it and
reads aloud.
“Merry Christmas, Frannie,
from all your friends and family.”
She looks
in the direction of the door, then
frantically
dials her cell phone.
Hello, Rory?… Remember that
idea you had about a puppy for Christmas?….
The
lights begin to go down.
Me, too… I don’t know why I
said that… All right… I love you, too…
She
runs to the door and exits. The lights go down, then all is black. Then the Christmas lights come up – blazing
-and she is gone.
Music
– “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.”
THE END.