I have read countless statistics stating that laughter is a wonderful medicine. I certainly agree. And though in the blog post I will neither be discussing the psychological effects of laughter, nor writing a personal narrative about laughter, I have written a seasonal short play that I *hope* lets you take some laughter medicine.
[Santa bursts into the bedroom with his hair mussed, his shirt unbuttoned, and his tie hanging off of his neck]
Santa: Shirley? Shirley?
Shirley [exasperated]: What do you want? Don’t you realize that I have over 1200 emails to sort through? You think being Santa’s wife is all milk and cookies…but it’s not. Why do all the children have to write to you anyway? It’s October! The only person they should be writing to is their Great Aunt Marge begging for candy or whatever people beg for on Halloween.
Santa: Halloween! That’s what I wanted to talk to you about! Halloween is tomorrow!! Our costumes came in yesterday and Binky the elf has spent nine hours steam pressing them with warm gingerbread men!
Shirley: You were serious about dressing up for Halloween?
Santa: Uh, duh. We’re going to be Snow White and Prince Charming. And half of the elves are working on costumes for the reindeer. They’re going to be dwarves!
Shirley [sighs]: Santa…I’m not going.
Santa [chocked]: Not going!! But…but…but, who’s going to be Snow White? We can’t have the Prince and the Seven Dwarves, that wouldn’t look right!
Shirley: I don’t care! I’m not going! Why don’t you be Snow White or something!
Santa [muttering]: Me be Snow White! Of all the preposterous, newfangled…. [exits]
[Santa is in his room squeezing himself into a Snow White costume; the reindeer are surrounding him all dressed like dwarves; Rudolph—who is dressed as Dopey—is eating his hat]
[Santa is walking through a neighborhood with the reindeer trialing him; children are pointing and staring]
[Child dressed as the Pillsbury doughboy is standing in front of a house trick-or-treating ]
Santa [excitedly]: Frosty?!!? Frosty? You’re alive!! [runs to hug the child]. I though that you melted, but here you are! I can’t believe it!!
Child: What. Are. You doing old man. I have pepper spray and I’m not afraid to use it!
Santa: Pepper spray? Oh, Shirley uses that all the time. It really gives our home a festive scent.
Child: Pepper spray. Not peppermint spray! Gosh! I’ve had enough of these old men doing the MOST! [storms off]
Santa [turns to lady standing in doorway] Trick-or-treat? [door slams]
[two children run by holding red and green lightsabers; reindeer start leading into the air to follow the lights; Santa has to chase them down; catches up to the children]
Santa [out of breath] So, you think you’re funny, huh. You may be short…but you’re no elf.
Kid 1: I’m not an elf, I’m Darth Vader [holds out arm] I AM YOUR FATHER.
Santa: I DON’T HAVE A FATHER!!
Kid 2: I’m Luke Skywalker.
Santa: How did you get the elf signals?
Kid 1: Lightsabers? I don’t know? From Wal-Mart?
Santa: Darn Wal-Mart, always making abominations of every darn thing I create.
[Santa goes house to house trick-or-treating; he gets turned away by most everyone]
[Santa stands in line behind a little kid dressed as the Hulk]
Santa [taps kid on the shoulder]: Mr. Grinch, I hope you’re ashamed of your self. You already ruined Christmas for those poor Whos. Now you’re going to ruin Halloween for this neighborhood. You are a mean, despicable, being.
[Child starts crying, Mom picks him up]
Mom: Who do you think you are? Dressed like Snow White and telling my five-year-old that he’s despicable. You need to leave…now. [Raises an umbrella]
[women from around the neighborhood come at Santa with raised umbrellas]
Santa [backing away slowly]: On Happy and Sneezy and Grumpy and Dopey, on Doc and Bashful and Sleepy and Rudolph! Now dash away all. [Runs down the street]
Shirley: So, how was Halloween this year?
Santa [still rubbing of make-up]; You know Shirley, I think I’m getting to old to trick-or-treat. Maybe next year I’ll kick back with a box of candy and watch this mystical sport called football. I heard the Southerners live by it.