Mr. and Mrs . Claus
kris kringle wears faded, red pants, a long-sleeve undershirt, slippers and suspenders He looks tired.
He
December the 26th. Well, thank God, that's over. I'm exhausted. Each year it gets worse. Up before midnight , waiting for the final tick of the clock. Bedlam, everywhere,. Toy elves, mad with fatigue, loading the last of the presents. Reindeer elves doing last minute adjustments to the sleigh. There's always a harness that breaks, a bell that won't jingle. The reindeer themselves are nervous, they know what's coming, they have the runs. The smell, the noise - unbelievable. Martha is clucking around me like an old mother hen. Are you wearing your woolen underwear? Of course, I am. Fat? Who's fat? I have 27 layers of clothes on. You would be too if you went riding around at altitude on a winter's night in an open sleigh. Gloves - check. Hat - check. Nose like a cherry – if you insist. Schnapps - - check, check and double check. Blast off and be done with it.
Mrs. Kringle enters. She wears a simple house dress and apron. She is as excited as Kris is exhausted.
She
December 26th! Ours is truly a partnership blessed and cherished by God, man and elves alike! As he flew out the door last night, I felt such a sense of accomplishment. He was well fed, well dressed, well rested. It's been a struggle. For the last few weeks, he's been fussing, fuming, losing his temper. He always has had an artist's temperament but still, every year, the closer we get to Christmas the worse he gets. If it weren't for me the elves would probably have been in a state of total rebellion. The minute he was gone, I broke out the homemade cookies and spiced cider. It's a treat that we look forward to every year. A reward for a job well done. Everyone loves it so!
He
As I go flying out the door, I can see Martha breaking out the cookies and spiced cider. God-awful stuff. The Elves will force it down and then make a mad break for the caves where the ale and brandy are stashed. There won't be one of them left standing by the time I get back tomorrow. But there's no time to worry about that now. I pull back on the reins and up we go.
She
After the Elves have gone to bed, I like to curl up by the fire with a cup of tea and imagine his journey through the cold clear Christmas night. It makes me feel so close to him and the joy he brings.
He
At a home near Cleveland Dallas New Jersey
She
(coughing a warning)
Ahem-hem-hem!
HE
No, better move on.
(Sagging)
She
January 3rd! He could hardly get out of bed again this morning. Oh, but it's always like this. The lovely let down after. Thankfully I know how to get him going. Lunchtime!
He
God help me, the only thing we do around here when we're not working is stuff our faces. Carbohydrates. Animal fats.
she
Dinner!
he
I keep dropping hints - how about some whole grains, grilled fish and steamed vegetables for God's sake. It doesn't sink in.
she
he
I need a a vacation. A new hobby. Anything. Maybe the Elves can help.
She
(not happy)
February 23rd. They arrived today.
he
(thrilled)
The Elves ordered them!
She
Large ugly boxes with garish letters. Not festive at all.
He
A 45 inch, flat screen television! Digital! With sensurround!
She
He says he's going to hook it up to some dish thingie and we'll be able to watch...
HE
Direct TV!!
she
I hate it.
He
I love it!! The flickering images, the nonstop action, the complete lack of introspection, the sheer volume of it. Life, here at the North Pole, seems sadly mundane in comparison.
She
At least I now have an inkling as to why Kris's list is seemingly filled with endless black marks. In these "programs" he's been watching - many of them seemingly created "for" children, - youngsters are "portrayed" as hip, wise-crackers, in every way smarter and more mature than their parents who are seen as ignorant, inattentive, buffoons. These "programs" seem to imply that parents and children in modern society have reversed roles completely.
He
I can't wait to see what else is on!
She
I am also concerned that the Elves seem to have an unhealthy fascination with something called CNBC . I have no idea what this is but feel they don't bode well for this year's contract negotiations.
He
Martha!? There's a lotion on the Home Shopping Network that removes body hair painlessly and without scarring! Only 29 dollars a case!
She
Oh, I hate this modern technology. No wonder people don't read books or write letters or bake bunt cakes any more. How can it possibly get worse than this?
He
Martha!? Look at what they Elves have brought home!
SHE
It’s a computer.
he
Twelve gig harddrive!
she
Kris s going to hook up to something called -
He
The Internet!
She
And that once we do this -
He
The world!! At our fingertips! The box! It says so!
She
Oh, I do not want the world at my fingertips. I like it comfortably at a distance the way it used to be.
He
Martha-slash-Claus at KrisKringle-dot-org! Yes!!
SHE
It simply can’t get worse than this.
He
Jumping Jeosaphat! There’s a man in St. Louis
She
There is only one thing to do. I will sing and make fruitcakes!
he
Help! She’s baking!
SHE
I am no longer talking to you.
he
Hah! Fine!
Silence. Then:
She
March 26th. Nothing to report.
He.
Not a thing to report.
She
March 28th. No change.
He
No food.
She
March 30th. He's miserable and trying to make me so as well but I continue to sing and bake on a daily basis.
He
All day long she wails like a church cat trapped in a whorehouse. Between that and the smell of burning brown sugar, I'm going out of my mind.
She
April 2d. How long can it go on like this? I must continue to bake and sing.
She begins to sing Oh, Christmas Tree, Oh, Christmas Tree”. He groans, then begins to sing – I saw Momma kissing Santa Claus. She glares at him, outraged, and sings louder. They continue to sing. Until suddenly -
He
Enough! Serve! Fruitcake!
She
April 13th. Success. He was humming to himself again today. I knew my fruitcakes and singing would eventually get through to him. Oh, why can't everyone sing and eat fruitcake every day!
He
Martha? More people are arrested, committed to mental institutions and more commit suicide at Christmas than any other time of year.
She
May 1st. We are no longer speaking.
(a moment)
I am making dumpling soup.
She whistles to herself, not a care in the world.
She whistles.
She whistles.
He
All right! You win! Serve! Dumpling! Soup!
She
May 27th. The letters arrive in bushels now and it makes me feel a new Christmas season is just around the corner. I don't know how they get here, of course. It's one of the mysteries. Kris, I'm sorry to say, hasn't read a letter in years. I think at some point, they started to make him unhappy. Not so much the requests for toys but rather the ones that asked for things that were truly beyond him.
He
Make the soldiers go away. Let there be no bombings. Cure my mother –
She
My sister.
He
My lover.
She
My son. And they all end with the same promise –
He
Grant me this Christmas wish and I will never ask for anything, ever again.
She
Still, I take the best of the letters and pack them carefully away in a trunk. I know that someday, he'll want to read them. I just know it.
He
June 1st. Martha!? Martha!!? I'm going to Hollywood
She
June 7th. It is too much to bear! Kris has been in touch with something called a talent agent. Apparently when this "agent" discovered that Kris has no formal representation he went absolutely mad with excitement. He started talking about licensing fees, subsidiary rights, guest appearances and royalties. Kris suddenly has dollar signs dancing in his eyes and we....
(fighting tears)
- are no longer speaking.
He
June 10th. The Elves will take me down into Canada
She
June 23rd. It's been a week and I haven't heard a word from him. I'm worried sick.
(a beat)
June 26th. Still no word. I tried his cell phone. I got two wrong numbers, a very rude overseas operator and a recording that told me the user was in a nonservice area. I don't know what to do.
(a beat)
June 29th. I did the unthinkable. I went to down into the shop to the computer and I went on line with the hopes of finding Kris. It wasn't easy but by accessing newspaper stories and hacking into classified FBI websites I was finally able to track him down. He was stranded in a holding cell in Toronto
He
July the 1st! L.A.
She
I must admit, it's lovely to hear enthusiasm in Kris's voice again.
He
Me. A big thing! Can you believe it? Me.
She
You.
A moment.
HE
(very quiet)
July 3rd. Martha... I'm home.
SHE
July 3rd. Something has gone horribly wrong.
He
The man you've been living with for all these years... is not me.
She
What?
He
The agency's legal department. They did some research. It seems the name and persona of Santa Claus doesn't belong to me at all. It's part of the public domain. I am no more Santa Claus than you are. Anyone can be Santa Claus. Anyone! It’s their right. To be a quaint, old fashioned, unappreciated, overworked buffoon who’s only good for paid public appearances, product placement and advertisements... and who’s time is well past.
She
What can I do?
He
Leave me... alone.
She
September 20th. It's been terribly quiet around here for the last two months. Normally things are buzzing by this time. Not this year. Kris just sits, staring into space. There will be Christmas this year but it will be a Christmas without the spirit of Santa Claus. And if I were to be honest, I would have to say that spirit has been missing for a long, long time now. It will take a miracle to bring it back. More than anything though. . . I miss him. My husband, my partner, my friend. I miss him so.
HE
What, Martha, are you crying?
She
I'm sorry, it's nothing. I'm so sorry.
He
No, don’t be. Please. Look. Look at these. Letters. I found them in the trunk upstairs. You saved them.
She
Yes. I thought you might like them someday.
He
They're good. Very good. This one especially.
SHE
Which one is that?
HE
The famous one.
SHE
Actually it was the reply. "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.”
he
“He exits as surely as... as love and generosity and devotion exits. Alas, how dreary would be the world if... if there were no....
(faltering)
...no.... Santa Claus. There would be no faith, no poetry, no...
She
- 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. No Santa Claus? Thank God he lives. And lives forever. A thousand years from now, nay, ten time's ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the hearts of childhood.
A moment.
He
Martha?
She
Yes?
He
I've misplaced my boots. Would you happen to know where they are?
She
Of course I do.
He
And my gloves?
She
Yes.
He
And my hat and coat?
She
Those too.
He
And my list, of course, I must have my list.
She
I have it right here.
He
We have work to do, don't we.
She
Yes. Yes, we do, my darling. Yes, we do.
he
But first... one thing.
she
Yes?
he
Lunch!!!!!
He exits.
She
December 24th!!! The blessed day is finally upon us. Oh, the last few months have just been the wonderful beehive of activity. Kris has been an absolute dervish, everywhere at once, designing toys, reading letters, keeping everyone's spirits up. It's a happy, healthy Santa Claus who ventures forth this year. Kris is a changed man.
He
(off)
Martha!? Martha!?
She
In here, dear! And yet the same.
Kris enters. He is not the chubby Santa of coke commercials but a regal father Christmas in long cape and brocaded vest and crown-like cap.
He
Well? What do you think? Polypropylene. So much for woolen underwear.
She
You are so handsome. I'm almost of a mind not let you go.
He
Ho-ho-ho! December 24th! It's been quite a year. It almost did me in. But! The dude... abides! And ever will!
She
Beautifully.
He
Well! I’m off! Martha?
She
Yes?
He
I could never have done any of this – ever - without you.
She
I know. I'll wait up.
They embrace. He exits. Then softly:
She
And I heard him exclaim 'er he drove out of sight. Happy Christmas to all. And to all a Good night.
lights to black
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