A K i d n a p p e d S a n t a C l a u s --------------------------------------------- A MiSTing by Jim Gadfly gadfly@angelfire.com Published December 13, 1999 Premise: That my own Christmas wish had been granted and the show had been renewed. 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 [Season 10 opening images and theme.] ...o...2...3...4...5...6...* [SoL. Bridge. The area is decorated for the holidays, with garland strung in the background, blinking colored lights strewn along the front of the console, and a large wreath fastened to the front of the dog bone latch on the theater tunnel door. TOM and CROW are behind the console, sobbing slightly, and leaning on each other. GYPSY enters.] GYPSY: Hey, guys. What's wrong? CROW: [Straightening up and composing himself] Well, since it's Christmas season, we were talking to Mike about all the different legends associated with Santa Claus, and we asked about the truth behind it all, and he said -- he said -- TOM: HE SAID THAT SANTA DOESN'T EVEN EXIST! [Tom and Crow break down sobbing again and lean against each other once more.] GYPSY: Now, boys, take it easy. Where is Mike now? CROW: The old Scrooge went to put out the Yule log I lit in my room. GYPSY: But Crow, you don't have a fireplace in your room. TOM: That's why Mike had to go and put it out. GYPSY: Oh. Well, in the mean time, I think I can help you out. Something like this led a newspaper editor to write a famous letter to a little girl a long, long time ago. Let me paraphrase what he said for you guys. [Gypsy clears her throat and, in the background, a soft, slow piano rendition of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" starts playing. Crow and Tom stop sobbing, straighten up, and listen as Gypsy begins her recital.] GYPSY: Boys, our big friend is wrong. He's been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. He does not believe except what he sees. He thinks that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by his little mind. CROW: Mike's "little mind"? TOM: Wow, good thing he didn't hear you! GYPSY: Well, all minds, boys, whether they be men's or children's, or robots, are little. TOM: Tell that to Deep Thought! GYPSY: Please! I'm trying to be profound here! TOM: Sorry. GYPSY: Ahem. In this great universe of ours we are all mere insects in our intellect, as compared with the boundless world about us, as measured by the intelligence of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge. CROW: Well, that's profound, Gyps, but aren't we wandering from -- GYPSY: Yes, boys, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. CROW: Hey, generosity and devotion are my middle name! TOM: I thought your middle name is "The". CROW: Oh. You're right. I must be thinking of someone else. GYPSY: Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Crow, or no Tom! CROW: Wow, that would be pretty darned dreary! TOM: Amen! GYPSY: There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished. TOM: [Sniffs, then] I -- I think I'm gone cry again. CROW: [Starting to sob] Me too -- GYPSY: SHUT UP! TOM & CROW: [Cowed] We're sorry. GYPSY: Where was I? Oh, yeah. Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! TOM: But we *don't* believe in-- GYPSY: You might hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down what would that prove? CROW: Uh, that he wasn't there? GYPSY: [Trying to ignore him] Nobody sees Santa Claus but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. TOM: Wanna run that by us again? GYPSY: The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. CROW: Oh, I get it! It's like that old Star Trek episode with that race of aliens that are moving so fast that none of the Enterprise crew can see them and all they can hear is what sounds like the buzzing of insects! TOM: Hey, yeah! That would also help explain why Santa can do so much in just one night! He's one of those aliens like the girl that captured Kirk and-- GYPSY: WILL YOU TWO PIPE DOWN?! TOM & CROW: [Contritely] Sor-ry. GYPSY: Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. CROW: Hey, wait a minute, you're asking us to prove a negative! TOM: He's got a point, Gyps. That violates one of the basic rules of-- GYPSY: [Exasperated] Oh, the heck with it! You guys believe whatever you want. I'M OUTTA HERE! [Exits angrily as the piano music stops with a sudden "thunk."] [Tom and Crow stare after her for a moment, stunned. Then they shift and glance about uneasily for a few seconds, then their gaze settles on us.] CROW: Uh, I guess we'll be right back. TOM: Yeah. Whatever. [Break for commercials.] [When we return from commercial break, MIKE is standing behind the bridge console, in a heated argument with Tom and Crow, who flank him. After a moment he waves his arms in a symbol of surrender.] MIKE: All right, all right, I give in! Santa's a real person who really exists and lives up at the North Pole with his elves. If YOU two say so. Satisfied? TOM: You don't sound like you mean it. MIKE: Hey, give me a break, Tom, I conceded. Good grief, next you guys will tell me you still believe in the Easter Bunny. TOM: WHAT?! CROW: HEY, YOU DISSIN' THE EASTER BUNNY? MIKE: [Frustrated] No -- Jeez -- sorry, never mind. [The mads light starts blinking.] MIKE: I never thought I'd say this, but thank goodness! [To us] Yes, Mrs. Forrester? [Castle Forrester. Great Hall. A Christmas tree stands in the background, gaudily decorated and nearly covered with thin decorative "icicles." BOBO, loudly humming "Deck the Halls," is tossing even more icicles on it, some of which are also draped over his shoulders and stuck in his hair. PEARL and OBSERVER stand in the foreground looking at us. Observer is holding a doll that looks like a 12-inch replica of Pearl.] PEARL: Hello, my little misfits. I see you're having a pleasant Christmas eve. Maybe I ought to send Boo Boo up there [Gestures toward Bobo] to spread some of his Holiday cheer -- the pathetic slob just watched a marathon of "It's a Wonderful Life," "Miracle on 34th Street" and "A Christmas Carol" and has absorbed so much Christmas spirit he's ODed. BOBO: [Pausing in his song] I can hardly *wait* till we're visited by Saint Nicklaus! PEARL: That Nich-O-las, you baboon! Nicklaus is the patron saint of golfers. BOBO: Oh. Sorry. [Resumes humming and trimming the tree.] PEARL: [Shakes her head then addresses us again] Fortunately, *some* of us down here have been doing some *real* work. See the doll that Brain Guy there is holding? [Observer smiles and holds the doll toward us.] PEARL: This is "Mother Pearl." The last few years I've seen some of the dumbest toys become such smash, must-have hits that mothers were staging deathmatches in toy store aisles over the few that were still in stock. Seeing an opportunity here, I developed Mother Pearl. More fun than a Furbie and cuter than a Cabbage Patch Kid. Right, White Bread? [Observer pauses to think for a moment.] PEARL: [Punching him in the shoulder] I said, "RIGHT?" OBSERVER: OW! Oh, absolutely, Madam. PEARL: Good. And she's programmed to recite a special set of phrases when you push a button on her back. I'll let Snowflake here demonstrate. [To Observer] Push the button, Flake. OBSERVER: Right. [Pushes the button.] DOLL: [Sing-songy cadence] Your parents are just nagging hens. But *Mother Pearl's* your one true friend! [He pushes the button again.] DOLL: Why waste time with your friends today? Just stay inside, so *we* can play! PEARL: You see? A whole vocabulary dedicated to enticing youngsters to love *me*. After a while, I'll be more popular than Barney! Imagine the influence I'll have with spoiled brats everywhere, most of whose parents, thank goodness, don't pay attention to what their kids play with anyway! And here's the best part. Kids don't even have to buy them! My own little Ghost of Christmas Presents here -- [She pats Observer on the back, and he smiles smugly] -- is going to use his brainpower to place one of these dolls under every Christmas tree in the world right on the stroke of midnight, Eastern time! It'll be as if sanctioned by Santa himself! Is that a nice touch, or what? [Pearl begins laughing maniacally. After hesitating a moment, Observer takes his cue and joins her. Then Pearl suddenly stops, followed immediately by Observer.] PEARL: In the mean time, since I have to put up with my own little one-ape caroling section, I think I *will* vent a little Christmas cheer your way. So here's a seasonal story from an author not unfamiliar with children's fare, the founder of Oz himself, Mr. L. Frank Baum. You got that little package ready to ship, Brain Guy? OBSERVER: Signed and sealed, Madam. PEARL: Okay, em-Baum 'em! OBSERVER: Yes, Madam. [Jerks his head about as "brain noise" plays.] [SoL. Alarms blare and lights flash.] ALL: AAAAH! WE'VE GOT STORY SIGN! *...6...5...4...3...2...o... [Theater. Mike enters, carrying Tom, followed by Crow. They take their usual seats as the story begins unfolding.] > A Kidnapped Santa Claus > > by L. Frank Baum CROW: [As Wicked Witch] I'll get you, my portly, and your little elves, too! > > > > Santa Claus lives in the Laughing Valley, where stands the big, > rambling castle in which his toys are manufactured. MIKE: This "Laughing Valley" of course being outside U.S. jurisdiction so he doesn't have to comply with American labor laws. > His > workmen, selected from the ryls, knooks, pixies and fairies, TOM: The Street Gangs of San Francisco. > live with him, and every one is as busy as can be from one > year's end to another. CROW: But where're the elves? MIKE: They were eventually hired as replacements after the knooks joined with the crannies and negotiated a better deal to work for Thomas'. It was part of a shared labor agreement with Keebler. > > It is called the Laughing Valley because everything there is > happy and gay. TOM: Oh, that must explain why the Southern Baptists have declared a boycott of all Laughing Valley products. > The brook chuckles to itself as it leaps > rollicking between its green banks; the wind whistles merrily in > the trees; the sunbeams dance lightly over the soft grass, and > the violets and wild flowers look smilingly up from their green > nests. MIKE: Sounds like Laughing Valley is located somewhere in Prozac Nation. > To laugh one needs to be happy; to be happy one needs to > be content. CROW: And to be content one needs lots of CASH. MIKE: Now, Crow, you know what they say; money can't buy happiness. CROW: Maybe, but it can sure buy off a lot of *unhappiness*, brother! > And throughout the Laughing Valley of Santa Claus > contentment reigns supreme. MIKE: [As Dr. Peanut] Lift up your hearts and be glad, friends, it's Toygiver Daze! CROW: Wow, that was a pretty good impression! MIKE: Thanks. TOM: Hey, I can do a mean Bobo. > > On one side is the mighty Forest of Burzee. At the other side > stands the huge mountain that contains the Caves of the Daemons. TOM: Ah, that must be where they keep their UNIX computers. > And between them the Valley lies smiling and peaceful. CROW: And languidly smoking a cigarette. > > One would think that our good old Santa Claus, who devotes his > days to making children happy, would have no enemies on all the > earth; and, as a matter of fact, for a long period of time he > encountered nothing but love wherever he might go. MIKE: This speaks well of his bodyguards, who made sure to shunt away any suspicious looking characters before they got too close. > > But the Daemons who live in the mountain caves grew to hate > Santa Claus very much, and all for the simple reason that he > made children happy. CROW: [As a Daemon (Grinch voice)] We must stop Christmas from coming, but how? > > The Caves of the Daemons are five in number. A broad pathway > leads up to the first cave, TOM: Paved with good intentions, no doubt -- > which is a finely arched cavern at > the foot of the mountain, the entrance being beautifully carved > and decorated. In it resides the Daemon of Selfishness. MIKE: Gordon Gekko? > Back > of this is another cavern inhabited by the Daemon of Envy. CROW: The lucky bastard, he got the job *I* wanted! > The > cave of the Daemon of Hatred is next in order, TOM: From which he broadcasts his talk radio show -- > and through this > one passes to the home of the Daemon of Malice--situated in a > dark and fearful cave in the very heart of the mountain. MIKE: Vandalized parking meters and public phones are piled in the corners -- > I do > not know what lies beyond this. Some say there are terrible > pitfalls leading to death and destruction, and this may very > well be true. CROW: Man, this cave sounds like it's one big lawsuit just *waiting* to happen! > However, from each one of the four caves > mentioned there is a small, narrow tunnel leading to the fifth > cave--a cozy little room occupied by the Daemon of Repentance. TOM: Now *that* sounds like a somewhat incongruous title. > And as the rocky floors of these passages are well worn by the > track of passing feet, I judge that many wanderers in the Caves > of the Daemons have escaped through the tunnels to the abode of > the Daemon of Repentance, who is said to be a pleasant sort of > fellow who gladly opens for one a little door admitting you into > fresh air and sunshine again. CROW: That's it? There's no catch? TOM: What's a nice guy like him doing in a place like this? MIKE: You know, fellas, except for that "Daemon of Repentance" guy, this whole cave layout reminds me somewhat of the New York subway system. > > Well, these Daemons of the Caves, thinking they had great cause > to dislike old Santa Claus, held a meeting one day to discuss > the matter. MIKE: But only half the Daemons showed up, the rest were out on Christmas vacation. > > "I'm really getting lonesome," said the Daemon of Selfishness. TOM: And "I'm really getting selfish," said the Daemon of Loneliness -- > "For Santa Claus distributes so many pretty Christmas gifts to > all the children that they become happy and generous, through > his example, and keep away from my cave." CROW: Yeah, kids turn up at the stores in droves around Christmastime to sit in Santa's lap and tell him what they want to give to others. > > "I'm having the same trouble," rejoined the Daemon of Envy. > "The little ones seem quite content with Santa Claus, and there > are few, indeed, that I can coax to become envious." MIKE: Oh, the Daemon of Envy is just being jealous again. > > "And that makes it bad for me!" declared the Daemon of Hatred. > "For if no children pass through the Caves of Selfishness and > Envy, none can get to MY cavern." TOM: Don'cha just *hate* when that happens? > > "Or to mine," added the Daemon of Malice. CROW: Hey, if that Daemon hadn't attended, could they claim an "Absence of Malice"? [Mike & Tom groan.] > > "For my part," said the Daemon of Repentance, "it is easily seen > that if children do not visit your caves they have no need to > visit mine; so that I am quite as neglected as you are." MIKE: Ah, quit your bellyaching and go munch on some honey-covered locusts or something. > > "And all because of this person they call Santa Claus!" > exclaimed the Daemon of Envy. "He is simply ruining our > business, and something must be done at once." TOM: You know, Daemons, it could be worse; they could open a *Walmart* next door. > > To this they readily agreed; but what to do was another and more > difficult matter to settle. CROW: Go to the town council and challenge the zoning laws? > They knew that Santa Claus worked > all through the year at his castle in the Laughing Valley, > preparing the gifts he was to distribute on Christmas Eve; MIKE: I thought the ryls, knooks, pixies and fairies made the toys. TOM: Quiet, you commie. MIKE: Hey! > and > at first they resolved to try to tempt him into their caves, > that they might lead him on to the terrible pitfalls that ended > in destruction. CROW: This might be harder than it sounds, since he tiptoes across icy rooftops and plunges down chimneys without any problems. TOM: Not to mention having to be able to do that hundreds of times each second every Christmas eve to meet his schedule. MIKE: So they'd have better luck trying to trip up a mountain goat. > > So the very next day, while Santa Claus was busily at work, > surrounded by his little band of assistants, the Daemon of > Selfishness came to him and said: TOM: [As Daemon] Do you have any spare Furbies? > > "These toys are wonderfully bright and pretty. Why do you not > keep them for yourself? It's a pity to give them to those noisy > boys and fretful girls, who break and destroy them so quickly." MIKE: This doesn't speak well for the quality of Santa's toys. > > "Nonsense!" cried the old graybeard, his bright eyes twinkling > merrily as he turned toward the tempting Daemon. "The boys and > girls are never so noisy and fretful after receiving my > presents, and if I can make them happy for one day in the year I > am quite content." CROW: [As Santa] Besides, it opens up a whole new market for replacement parts! > > So the Daemon went back to the others, who awaited him in their > caves, and said: > > "I have failed, for Santa Claus is not at all selfish." TOM: [Sarcastically] Oh, wow. Like you really tried hard, Earl. > > The following day the Daemon of Envy visited Santa Claus. Said > he: "The toy shops are full of playthings quite as pretty as > those you are making. What a shame it is that they should > interfere with your business! They make toys by machinery much > quicker than you can make them by hand; and they sell them for > money, while you get nothing at all for your work." MIKE: [As Santa] That's okay, my government subsidy makes up the difference. > > But Santa Claus refused to be envious of the toy shops. > > "I can supply the little ones but once a year--on Christmas > Eve," he answered; "for the children are many, and I am but one. > And as my work is one of love and kindness I would be ashamed > to receive money for my little gifts. CROW: [As Santa] That is to say, we're a non-profit organization. But if you'd care to make a tax-deductible pledge to help defray our operational expenses -- > But throughout all the > year the children must be amused in some way, and so the toy > shops are able to bring much happiness to my little friends. I > like the toy shops, and am glad to see them prosper." TOM: [As Santa] Besides, you wouldn't *believe* what they pay me to be in their advertisements and make guest appearances! MIKE: But Santa said he didn't take money. TOM: He said he didn't take money for the *gifts*. MIKE: Hummmm. Good point. > > In spite of the second rebuff, the Daemon of Hatred thought he > would try to influence Santa Claus. So the next day he entered > the busy workshop and said: > > "Good morning, Santa! I have bad news for you." CROW: [As Daemon] Your tests are back and your cholesterol level is off the chart! > > "Then run away, like a good fellow," answered Santa Claus. "Bad > news is something that should be kept secret and never told." MIKE: An attitude adopted by various Presidents over the years. > > "You cannot escape this, however," declared the Daemon; "for in > the world are a good many who do not believe in Santa Claus, and > these you are bound to hate bitterly, since they have so wronged > you." > > "Stuff and rubbish!" cried Santa. TOM: He must be calling a couple of his helpers. > > "And there are others who resent your making children happy and > who sneer at you and call you a foolish old rattlepate! You are > quite right to hate such base slanderers, and you ought to be > revenged upon them for their evil words." CROW: [As Daemon] In fact, I know this great trial lawyer you can contact -- > > "But I don't hate 'em!" exclaimed Santa Claus positively. "Such > people do me no real harm, but merely render themselves and > their children unhappy. Poor things! I'd much rather help them > any day than injure them." MIKE: Good grief, he sounds like Scrooge's nephew. > > Indeed, the Daemons could not tempt old Santa Claus in any way. > On the contrary, he was shrewd enough to see that their object > in visiting him was to make mischief and trouble, and his cheery > laughter disconcerted the evil ones and showed to them the folly > of such an undertaking. So they abandoned honeyed words and > determined to use force. TOM: Now if they could just get their resolution through the Security Council -- > > It was well known that no harm can come to Santa Claus while he > is in the Laughing Valley, for the fairies, and ryls, and knooks > all protect him. CROW: Yeah, there's nothing worse than dealing with a pissed-off ryl. > But on Christmas Eve he drives his reindeer > out into the big world, carrying a sleighload of toys and pretty > gifts to the children; and this was the time and the occasion > when his enemies had the best chance to injure him. So the > Daemons laid their plans and awaited the arrival of Christmas > Eve. MIKE: Batteries of Patriot Missiles were moved into position. > > The moon shone big and white in the sky, and the snow lay crisp > and sparkling on the ground as Santa Claus cracked his whip and > sped away out of the Valley into the great world beyond. TOM: [As Rudolph] OW! Jeez, Santa, can you take it easy with that whip?! > The > roomy sleigh was packed full with huge sacks of toys, and as the > reindeer dashed onward our jolly old Santa laughed and whistled > and sang for very joy. For in all his merry life this was the > one day in the year when he was happiest--the day he lovingly > bestowed the treasures of his workshop upon the little children. CROW: Well, all Christian children who meet his definition of "good", anyway. > > It would be a busy night for him, he well knew. As he whistled > and shouted and cracked his whip again, ALL: HEY! > he reviewed in mind all > the towns and cities and farmhouses where he was expected, and > figured that he had just enough presents to go around and make > every child happy. MIKE: If the reindeer didn't get totally fed up and decide to dump him first. > The reindeer knew exactly what was expected > of them, and dashed along so swiftly that their feet scarcely > seemed to touch the snow-covered ground. TOM: So the whipping is just a gratuitous indulgence by Santa, then? CROW: Saint Nicholas, friend of children, spreader of good cheer, and closet devotee of the Marquis de Sade. > > Suddenly a strange thing happened: a rope shot through the > moonlight and a big noose that was in the end of it settled over > the arms and body of Santa Claus and drew tight. MIKE: Oh no, Santa's been lassoed by the Daemon of Cheesy Westerns! > Before he > could resist or even cry out he was jerked from the seat of the > sleigh and tumbled head foremost into a snowbank, while the > reindeer rushed onward with the load of toys and carried it > quickly out of sight and sound. TOM: Too bad the reindeer didn't notice they'd lost their driver. CROW: Who said they didn't notice, heh-heh. > > Such a surprising experience confused old Santa for a moment, > and when he had collected his senses he found that the wicked > Daemons had pulled him from the snowdrift and bound him tightly > with many coils of the stout rope. MIKE: This was to keep him from disappearing like in that movie "The Santa Clause." CROW & TOM: Ah. > And then they carried the > kidnapped Santa Claus away to their mountain, where they thrust > the prisoner into a secret cave and chained him to the rocky > wall so that he could not escape. CROW: [As Santa] Oh, what I wouldn't give to see John Agar wander by with his flashlight right about now -- > > "Ha, ha!" laughed the Daemons, rubbing their hands together with > cruel glee. "What will the children do now? How they will cry > and scold and storm when they find there are no toys in their > stockings and no gifts on their Christmas trees! And what a lot > of punishment they will receive from their parents, and how they > will flock to our Caves of Selfishness, and Envy, and Hatred, > and Malice! We have done a mighty clever thing, we Daemons of > the Caves!" TOM: Jeez, and Lucifer thought he could overthrow Heaven with geeks like this? CROW: These guys probably got cast of Hell, too. That's how they wound up with cave duty at the North Pole. > > Now it so chanced that on this Christmas Eve the good Santa > Claus had taken with him in his sleigh Nuter the Ryl, Peter the > Knook, Kilter the Pixie, and a small fairy named Wisk-- MIKE: This last he brought in case he spilled milk on his outfit -- > his four > favorite assistants. These little people he had often found very > useful in helping him to distribute his gifts to the children, > and when their master was so suddenly dragged from the sleigh > they were all snugly tucked underneath the seat, where the sharp > wind could not reach them. TOM: Not to mention Santa's whip. > > The tiny immortals knew nothing of the capture of Santa Claus > until some time after he had disappeared. But finally they > missed his cheery voice, CROW: And the pained bleating of the reindeer -- > and as their master always sang or > whistled on his journeys, the silence warned them that something > was wrong. MIKE: Sounds like Santa's noisier than a karaoke bar on Saturday night. > > Little Wisk stuck out his head from underneath the seat and > found Santa Claus gone and no one to direct the flight of the > reindeer. TOM: I didn't even know they'd made a movie of it. MIKE: Huh? TOM: You know, "Flight of the Reindeer" -- by Robert Sullivan -- it was a Book-of-the-Month Club selection. MIKE: Sorry, you lost me. CROW: Me too. TOM: [Muttering to himself] Philistines. > > "Whoa!" he called out, and the deer obediently slackened speed > and came to a halt. > > Peter and Nuter and Kilter all jumped upon the seat and looked > back over the track made by the sleigh. But Santa Claus had > been left miles and miles behind. TOM: A tragedy that *could* have been prevented with safety belts. Think about it, won't you? > > "What shall we do?" asked Wisk anxiously, all the mirth and > mischief banished from his wee face by this great calamity. MIKE: [As Mrs. Higgins] Do without, I suppose. > > "We must go back at once and find our master," said Nuter the > Ryl, who thought and spoke with much deliberation. CROW: Ah, Nuter must be the Torgo of Laughing Valley. TOM: Maybe he's the caretaker at the Laughing Valley Lodge. > > "No, no!" exclaimed Peter the Knook, who, cross and crabbed > though he was, might always be depended upon in an emergency. > "If we delay, or go back, there will not be time to get the toys > to the children before morning; and that would grieve Santa > Claus more than anything else." MIKE: In actuality, of course, Peter has been praying for an opportunity like this for *years*. > > "It is certain that some wicked creatures have captured him," > added Kilter thoughtfully, "and their object must be to make the > children unhappy. So our first duty is to get the toys > distributed as carefully as if Santa Claus were himself present. > Afterward we can search for our master and easily secure his > freedom." CROW: Wow, this Kilter sure figured out what happened awfully quick! TOM: And seems pretty sure of the best way to foil the Daemons' plans. MIKE: And appears rather confident of being able to free Santa after it's all over. [Contemplative Pause.] ALL: [Suspiciously] Hummmm... > > This seemed such good and sensible advice that the others at > once resolved to adopt it. So Peter the Knook called to the > reindeer, and the faithful animals again sprang forward and > dashed over hill and valley, through forest and plain, until > they came to the houses wherein children lay sleeping and > dreaming of the pretty gifts they would find on Christmas > morning. TOM: And as a reward for the reindeers' faithful service Peter somehow manages to "loose" the whip in transit. > > The little immortals had set themselves a difficult task; for > although they had assisted Santa Claus on many of his journeys, > their master had always directed and guided them and told them > exactly what he wished them to do. But now they had to > distribute the toys according to their own judgment, and they > did not understand children as well as did old Santa. So it is > no wonder they made some laughable errors. CROW: Yeah, giving Falwell's grandkid that Tinky Winky doll, that was a riot! > > Mamie Brown, who wanted a doll, got a drum instead; and a drum > is of no use to a girl who loves dolls. MIKE: And you *do* love dolls, don't you, Mamie? All *proper* young ladies love dolls. > And Charlie Smith, who > delights to romp and play out of doors, and who wanted some new > rubber boots to keep his feet dry, received a sewing box filled > with colored worsteds and threads and needles, which made him so > provoked that he thoughtlessly called our dear Santa Claus a > fraud. TOM: Hey, brat, ever hear the term "beggars can't be choosers"? > > Had there been many such mistakes the Daemons would have > accomplished their evil purpose and made the children unhappy. > But the little friends of the absent Santa Claus labored > faithfully and intelligently to carry out their master's ideas, > and they made fewer errors than might be expected under such > unusual circumstances. MIKE: "Fewer" is, of course, a relative term. CROW: Yeah. Fewer errors than what? Than Clinton has made since assuming office? TOM: One would certainly hope they made fewer than *that*. > > And, although they worked as swiftly as possible, day had begun > to break before the toys and other presents were all > distributed; so for the first time in many years the reindeer > trotted into the Laughing Valley, on their return, in broad > daylight, with the brilliant sun peeping over the edge of the > forest to prove they were far behind their accustomed hours. TOM: Brilliant sunshine, huh? Neat trick for the North Pole in the middle of winter. CROW: Actually, he never really *said* this Laughing Valley's at the North Pole. TOM: Well, where else *would* it be? Catalina? > > Having put the deer in the stable, the little folk began to > wonder how they might rescue their master; and they realized > they must discover, first of all, what had happened to him and > where he was. CROW: Or they could just bomb Sudan in retaliation. > > So Wisk the Fairy transported himself to the bower of the Fairy > Queen, TOM: RuPaul? MIKE: Okay, guys, let's take it easy on the "fairy" puns. > which was located deep in the heart of CROW: Texas? > the Forest of > Burzee; CROW: Close! > and once there, it did not take him long to find out all > about the naughty Daemons and how they had kidnapped the good > Santa Claus to prevent his making children happy. MIKE: Tattler! > The Fairy > Queen also promised her assistance, and then, fortified by this > powerful support, Wisk flew back to where Nuter and Peter and > Kilter awaited him, and the four counseled together and laid > plans to rescue their master from his enemies. CROW: Good luck storming the mountain! > > It is possible that Santa Claus was not as merry as usual during > the night that succeeded his capture. TOM: Really? Ya think?! > For although he had faith > in the judgment of his little friends he could not avoid a > certain amount of worry, and an anxious look would creep at > times into his kind old eyes as he thought of the disappointment > that might await his dear little children. MIKE: Visions of thousands of kids lined up at the exchange counter haunted his mind. > And the Daemons, who > guarded him by turns, one after another, did not neglect to > taunt him with contemptuous words in his helpless condition. ALL: [As Daemons] N'yah, n'yah n'yah, n'yah n'yah, n'yah! > > When Christmas Day dawned the Daemon of Malice was guarding the > prisoner, and his tongue was sharper than that of any of the > others. CROW: At least that's what his wife claims. > > "The children are waking up, Santa!" he cried. "They are waking > up to find their stockings empty! Ho, ho! How they will > quarrel, and wail, and stamp their feet in anger! MIKE: [As Daemon] And that's a noise that I simply must hear! > Our caves > will be full today, old Santa! Our caves are sure to be full!" TOM: Of course. What kid, when they felt disappointed or angry, wouldn't immediately seek out a cave full of Daemons to vent to? MIKE: I think it's an allegory, Tom. Like Santa himself is just an allegory for -- TOM & CROW: MIKE! MIKE: Okay, okay, never mind. > > But to this, as to other like taunts, Santa Claus answered > nothing. He was much grieved by his capture, it is true; but his > courage did not forsake him. And, finding that the prisoner > would not reply to his jeers, the Daemon of Malice presently > went away, and sent the Daemon of Repentance to take his place. CROW: [As Daemon of Repentance] I hope you'll forgive the behavior of my colleague -- > > This last personage was not so disagreeable as the others. He > had gentle and refined features, and his voice was soft and > pleasant in tone. MIKE: Yeah, but you could say the same about Hannibal Lecter. > > "My brother Daemons do not trust me overmuch," said he, as he > entered the cavern; "but it is morning, now, and the mischief is > done. You cannot visit the children again for another year." CROW: [As Daemon] The restraining orders are back in full force. > > "That is true," answered Santa Claus, almost cheerfully; > "Christmas Eve is past, and for the first time in centuries I > have not visited my children." TOM: [As Santa] And I always knew, if I could break the habit for just one night, I would be cured for life! > > "The little ones will be greatly disappointed," murmured the > Daemon of Repentance, almost regretfully; "but that cannot be > helped now. Their grief is likely to make the children selfish > and envious and hateful, and if they come to the Caves of the > Daemons today I shall get a chance to lead some of them to my > Cave of Repentance." MIKE: Right. Rationalize. > > "Do you never repent, yourself?" asked Santa Claus, curiously. CROW: [As Daemon] I beg your pardon? Ha-ha, just a little joke. > > "Oh, yes, indeed," answered the Daemon. "I am even now > repenting that I assisted in your capture. Of course it is too > late to remedy the evil that has been done; but repentance, you > know, can come only after an evil thought or deed, for in the > beginning there is nothing to repent of." TOM: This guy must not be Orthodox. > > "So I understand," said Santa Claus. "Those who avoid evil need > never visit your cave." MIKE: Well, except for the occasional confused spelunker. > > "As a rule, that is true," replied the Daemon; "yet you, who > have done no evil, are about to visit my cave at once; for to > prove that I sincerely regret my share in your capture I am > going to permit you to escape." TOM: Hey, he really *is* a nice guy. CROW: Yeah. I wonder why the other Daemons don't trust him overmuch? MIKE: I guess in his own way he's a misfit, like Rudolph or Herbie. > > This speech greatly surprised the prisoner, until he reflected > that it was just what might be expected of the Daemon of > Repentance. The fellow at once busied himself untying the knots > that bound Santa Claus and unlocking the chains that fastened > him to the wall. Then he led the way through a long tunnel > until they both emerged in the Cave of Repentance. CROW: [As Daemon] Okay, just let me get the visitor log. I'll need you to sign out. > > "I hope you will forgive me," said the Daemon pleadingly. "I am > not really a bad person, you know; and I believe I accomplish a > great deal of good in the world." MIKE: [As Daemon] I think I just fell in with the wrong crowd. > > With this he opened a back door that let in a flood of sunshine, > and Santa Claus sniffed the fresh air gratefully. TOM: Yeah, usually he has to put up with the aroma of reindeer doo-doo. > > "I bear no malice," said he to the Daemon, in a gentle voice; > "and I am sure the world would be a dreary place without you. > So, good morning, and a Merry Christmas to you!" MIKE: [As Santa] And feel free to drop by sometime. I'd like to introduce you to the Winter Warlock. I have a feeling you two would hit it off splendidly! > > With these words he stepped out to greet the bright morning, and > a moment later he was trudging along, whistling softly to > himself, on his way to his home in the Laughing Valley. CROW: Suddenly he finds the top to a giant electric razor, sits in it and starts sledding around the snow dunes -- > > Marching over the snow toward the mountain was a vast army, made > up of the most curious creatures imaginable. TOM: We will MARCH into the FORBIDDEN ZONE! > There were > numberless knooks from the forest, as rough and crooked in > appearance as the gnarled branches of the trees they ministered > to. And there were dainty ryls from the fields, each one > bearing the emblem of the flower or plant it guarded. Behind > these were many ranks of pixies, gnomes and nymphs, and in the > rear a thousand beautiful fairies floated along in gorgeous > array. MIKE: So all that careful counseling and planning leads to a direct frontal assault. CROW: Shrewd, aren't they? > > This wonderful army was led by Wisk, Peter, Nuter, and Kilter, > who had assembled it to rescue Santa Claus from captivity and to > punish the Daemons who had dared to take him away from his > beloved children. TOM: [As Wisk] Yep, we've got some pointy-tailed butt to kick. > > And, although they looked so bright and peaceful, the little > immortals were armed with powers that would be very terrible to > those who had incurred their anger. Woe to the Daemons of the > Caves if this mighty army of vengeance ever met them! CROW: See the advantage of having a strict "don't ask, don't tell" policy that *works*? MIKE: That's it. I'm declaring a moratorium on the "fairy" jokes. > > But lo! coming to meet his loyal friends appeared the imposing > form of Santa Claus, his white beard floating in the breeze and > his bright eyes sparkling with pleasure at this proof of the > love and veneration he had inspired in the hearts of the most > powerful creatures in existence. TOM: [As Wisk] It's a trick, men! ATTACK! > > And while they clustered around him and danced with glee at his > safe return, he gave them earnest thanks for their support. But > Wisk, and Nuter, and Peter, and Kilter, he embraced > affectionately. CROW: [As Wisk, grunting] Uh -- Santa -- that's a little tight -- uugh -- > > "It is useless to pursue the Daemons," said Santa Claus to the > army. "They have their place in the world, and can never be > destroyed. But that is a great pity, nevertheless," he > continued musingly. TOM: It's a great pity that the Daemons can't be destroyed? MIKE: Seems that Santa has a little mean streak in him after all. > > So the fairies, and knooks, and pixies, and ryls all escorted > the good man to his castle, and there left him to talk over the > events of the night with his little assistants. CROW: "His little assistants"? Heck, he was of NO assistance! MIKE: Crow, pay attention to the spelling. This is *not* a Usenet post. CROW: Sorry. > > Wisk had already rendered himself invisible and flown through > the big world to see how the children were getting along on this > bright Christmas morning; and by the time he returned, Peter had > finished telling Santa Claus of how they had distributed the > toys. TOM: [As Peter] And we gave a "See & Say" to this Keller kid -- > > "We really did very well," cried the fairy, in a pleased voice; > "for I found little unhappiness among the children this morning. > Still, you must not get captured again, my dear master; for we > might not be so fortunate another time in carrying out your > ideas." MIKE: Yeah, yeah, patronize the old guy who gives out the paychecks. > > He then related the mistakes that had been made, and which he > had not discovered until his tour of inspection. And Santa > Claus at once sent him with rubber boots for Charlie Smith, and > a doll for Mamie Brown; so that even those two disappointed ones > became happy. CROW: Darn, just when Mamie was ready to try out for that drummer opening with Spinal Tap! > > As for the wicked Daemons of the Caves, they were filled with > anger and chagrin when they found that their clever capture of > Santa Claus had come to naught. Indeed, no one on that > Christmas Day appeared to be at all selfish, or envious, or > hateful. TOM: Santa never met Fred Phelps. [Pause] CROW: No objections, Mike? MIKE: No. In this case, I couldn't agree more. > And, realizing that while the children's saint had so > many powerful friends it was folly to oppose him, the Daemons > never again attempted to interfere with his journeys on > Christmas Eve. CROW: So the Daemons never figured out that Santa had some inside help to escape? TOM: Even though they didn't really trust the Daemon of Repentance in the first place? MIKE: Lucky for Santa they didn't have a Daemon of Deductive Reasoning. CROW: Speaking of escaping, though, I think the story's over but -- [struggles in place for a moment] I -- I don't seem to be able to get out of my seat. MIKE: Hey, me neither! TOM: Good grief, it feels like my hoverskirt's in reverse! This sucks! CROW: Mike, why can't we leave? [Suddenly we hear a deep, reverberating male voice, somewhat reminiscent of the amplified voice of the Wizard in "The Wizard of Oz" film.] VOICE: YOU MUST REPENT FIRST. ALL: AAAH! CROW: Wow, Mike, your voice really has changed! MIKE: D'oh, that wasn't me, you idiot! It came from somewhere else. TOM: Then who the heck was it? VOICE: IT IS I, THE DAEMON OF REPENTENCE. TO BE RELEASED FROM THIS THEATER, YOU MUST REPENT. TOM: Repent? Repent for WHAT?! CROW: Oh, Jeez, do we have to name things off the top of our heads? I have a list in my room-- MIKE: Quiet, Crow! Uh, Sir, what exactly did we do wrong? VOICE: YOU MOCKED THE WORK OF ONE OF THE GREATEST CHILDREN'S WRITERS OF ALL TIME. A MAN WHOSE STORIES HAVE BROUGHT CHEER AND LAUGHTER TO YOUNGSTERS FOR GENERATIONS. MIKE: Ah, gee, Mr. Daemon sir, we didn't mean anything by it. TOM: Yeah, we were just having fun. We really liked the story. CROW: Right. And we watch his "Wizard of Oz" all the time -- we even bought the new DVD! With out-takes and everything! TOM: And we believe in Santa, too. It's MIKE who doesn't. CROW: Yeah, it's all MIKE's fault! MIKE: It's MY fault?! TOM & CROW: See! He admits it! VOICE: MICHAEL? MIKE: Okay, fine. Sir, we're truly sorry if you found fault with our little remarks. We think Mr. Baum's a fine writer, and we admire his dedication to children and his imaginative, lasting creations. We just found some parts where it was, I don't know, kinda funny to comment on. If you took any offense, we apologize. And I *do* believe in Santa, I *do* I *do*. VOICE: WELL, ALL RIGHT. I'LL LET YOU ALL OFF WITH A WARNING THIS TIME. BUT DON'T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN! MIKE: Thank you sir -- and it won't! CROW: [Aside] At least not till tomorrow, anyway. [Mike & Tom shush him.] VOICE: ALL RIGHT, GENTLEMEN, MOVE ALONG, THERE'S NOTHING MORE TO READ HERE. MIKE: Yes, sir! [Picking up Tom] C'mon guys. [All exit the theater.] ...o...2...3...4...5...6...* [SoL. Bridge. Mike, Tom and Crow stand behind the console.] MIKE: Well, guys, what did you *really* think of this particular story? TOM: Well, I guess it really wasn't bad for a kid's story written about a century ago. CROW: And you've gotta admit, it could serve as the basis for a pretty good movie nowadays. MIKE: Really? How so? CROW: Well, take that silly sequence at the end where the Daemon of Repentance just lets Santa go and he meets with his cute little friends and they all go home laughing and happy. What if, instead, the army of fairies and things actually stormed the mountain! TOM: Oh, hey, I get it! Yeah, we could have a big explosive special effects battle like at the end of "The Phantom Menace" where Jar Jar's guys battle those robot soldiers that -- well, look kinda like you, Crow. CROW: Yeah, and -- you think so? -- ah, anyway, can't you just see it now, the fairies darting about, thrashing Daemons like Tinker Bell in "Hook" while the Daemons spew out flames at the approaching army -- TOM: Oh, you mean like the bugs in "Starship Troopers" that melted that soldier's arm off in the canyon and totally immolated those other two guys during the rescue from the fortress? CROW: Hey, that would be neat! And then the Valley forces could send reindeer diving in with sacks of explosives on kamikaze runs -- TOM: And-and then, at the end, when it looks like the Valley forces have beaten the Daemons and they've released Santa, Satan suddenly appears like in that new holiday film, "End of Days," and Santa has to battle him like Arnold did in that movie -- MIKE: Hey! Whoa, guys, do you really think this is really the type of movie you want to release over the Christmas season for kiddies to see? [Tom & Crow consider for a moment.] CROW: [Somewhat embarrassed] I guess you're right, Mike. TOM: [Also downcast] I suppose we just weren't thinking. MIKE: Good. I didn't think so. TOM: [Suddenly enthusiastic] After all, why release the film during Christmastime, when we can release it during the summer and rake in cash from vacationing kids then? CROW: [Also exuberant] And a few months later, *after* we've soaked the summer movie market for all it's worth, *then* we can release it on tape and DVD in time for the holidays! TOM: Absolutely! That's also about the time when profits from foreign releases start pouring in! CROW: Not to mention the restaurant tie-ins and action figure sales-- MIKE: Oh, for Pete's sake. [The mads light starts flashing.] And speaking of uncontrolled avarice -- [looks at us] Yes, Mrs. Forrester, how is it going down there on Mount Crumpet? [CF. Great Hall. Pearl and Observer are in the foreground looking at us, smiling.] PEARL: Well, I hope you kiddies enjoyed that little foray into childhood bliss, because it'll be the LAST Christmas we'll allow any of THAT for a while! Okay, Brain Guy, it's now midnight. Ship the dolls! OBSERVER: Yes, Madam. [Jerks his head about for several seconds as "brain noise" plays. When it stops, Observer lets out a heavy sigh as if exhausted] Oh, my, that *did* take an effort. PEARL: Oh, grow up, Snowden. Is it done? OBSERVER: Yes, Madam. Every Christmas tree in the world now has one of your little dolls under it. PEARL: Excellent! Ah ha, I'm on my way! [She picks up a doll] In just a few hours, kids all around the globe will be picking one of these up, pressing the button [She pressed the doll's button] and hearing -- DOLL: Hug your parents Christmas day. Spend time with them, have fun and play! PEARL: [Confused] What the -- [She pushes the button again.] DOLL: Visit friends and play tonight, but be good and do what's right! PEARL: Okay, Brainiac, what'd you do to the doll? OBSERVER: [Confused] I -- I didn't do anything! I just sent them out as they were, all just like this one. PEARL: Well *something* happened! [She pushes the button again.] DOLL: Candy treats taste really nice, but first eat your veggies and rice! OBSERVER: It would seem that some more powerful entity has intervened and replaced all your dolls with these *true* playthings. PEARL: Well, what the heck could -- [BOBO enters excitedly, carrying three stockings.] BOBO: Lawgiver! Lawgiver! We were just visited by Saint Nicholson! And see what he left us! [He reaches into a stocking and pulls out a lump of coal] Look at this! Fossil fuel! One big chunk for each of us! This will be *priceless* in the 26th century! How much is it worth today, Lawgiver? [Pearl stares dully at the coal for a moment, then shares a dumbfounded glance with Observer.] PEARL: Naah, it couldn't be -- [Suddenly we hear somewhere in the background the muffled sound of jingling bells, then a fading, faraway voice.] VOICE: Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! [Pearl, Observer and Bobo stare up at the ceiling in wonderment as the picture fades to black.] [Roll credits and play closing theme.] 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 | | | Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its associated characters | | and situations are the property of and trademarks of Best | | Brains, Inc. In no way should this MiSTing be construed to | | be an infringement on those rights. All rights reserved. | | Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment | | purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trade- | | marks held by Best Brains, Inc. is intended or should be inferred. | | This work is a satire and not intended as a personal attack upon | | the original author(s) or other persons or characters presented, | | and is meant only as entertainment and commentary. | | | | Source for "A Kidnapped Santa Claus" from | | http://sailor.gutenberg.org/etext96/kdsta10.txt | | | | Source for "Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus" from | | http://north-pole.iamerica.net/yes.htm | | | |---------------------------------------------------------------------| | | | Please visit "Jim Gadfly's MiSTing Page" for a list of all my | | MiSTings as well as tools and resourse links for other MiSTing | | authors. | | http://www.angelfire.com/va/gadfly | | | 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 8======8 > It is possible that Santa Claus was not as merry as usual during > the night that succeeded his capture.