A Christmas Carol by Tom Wood
ACT ONE
PROLOGUE
The house lights fade. A haunting musical introduction begins. Lights
up on a ragged boy.
RAGGED BOY:(sings sweetly) God rest ye merry gentlemen.
Let nothing you dismay.
Remember Christ, our Savior,
was born on Christmas Day.
To save us allfrom Satan's power,
When we had gone astray. (ominous chords) Oh, oh
"Oh" turns into a howling wind, the boy disappears as we descend
into blackness.
On the wind we hear:
MARLEY:(voice, calling) Ebeneeeeeeezer.
Lights up on a decrepit cemetery: fog, grave stones, large iron gates,
statuary and a freshly dug grave. A funeral is in progress. The
coffin is about to be lowered into the earth.
MARLEY:(voice, calling) Ebeneeeeeezer.
Scrooge looks around for the source of the voice as the minister,
(Reverend Fish) reads from a bible. Mrs. Dilber (Marley's
housekeeper) and Mr. Swidger (the Undertaker) huddle close in a
howling wind. Mrs. Dilber surreptitiously drinks from a flask.
FISH: (reading) "Now I say brethren, that we shall all be changed.
Changed in the twinkling of an eye, when the trumpet shall sound and
the dead shall rise, incorruptible, we shall be changed."
MARLEY: (voice) Ebenezer.
SCROOGE: (to Fish) Yes?
FISH: I beg your pardon?
SCROOGE: What is it?
FISH: I don't follow.
SCROOGE: You called my name. What do you want?
FISH: I assure you Mr. Scrooge, I did not address you.
SCROOGE: What?! Well get on with it then, before we all catch our
death in this blasted cold.
FISH: "Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God to take unto
himself the soul of our dear departed brother Jacob Marley
MARLEY: (voice) Ebenezer.
Scrooge looks to Dilber and Swidger.
SCROOGE: There! Did you hear that?
DILBER: What's that, Mr. Scrooge, Sir. I can't hear you proper
with this wind.
SCROOGE: Nothing.
DILBER: What?
SCROOGE: Never mind!
FISH: "We therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth,
"
MARLEY: (voice) Earth.
FISH: "ashes to ashes,"
MARLEY: (voice) Ashes.
FISH: "dust to dust."
MARLEY: (voice) Dust.
SCROOGE: Stop it!
FISH: Nearly done. "In sure and certain hope of eternal life,
through our Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change"
MARLEY: (voice) Change.
FISH: "our vile body"
MARLEY: (voice) Change
FISH: "that it may be like unto His glorious body."
MARLEY: (voice) Change
FISH: "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us all
evermore".
DILBER/SWIDGER: Amen.
FISH: Amen.
MARLEY: (voice)Ebenezer.
Scrooge puts his hands over his ears and closes his eyes. Dilber and
Swidger exit.
FISH: Mr. Scrooge? Mr. Scrooge!? (touching his arm)
SCROOGE: (starting) Ahhh!
FISH: We're done here.
SCROOGE: (distracted) Yes.
The Reverend exits. Scrooge begins to follow, but before he can…
MARLEY: (very low and muffled) Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.
SCROOGE: Who is it? Who's there?
Scrooge looks about. Nothing.
SCROOGE: Pooh!
Scrooge turns away again.
MARLEY: (louder) SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
SCROOGE: (turning back) What is that?
The coffin lid flings open, Marley's corpse rises from it and
gestures violently to Scrooge.
MARLEY: (screeching) SSSSSAVE YOURSELF!
A black out. Then lights back up almost immediately on a
SCENE ONE
Street Scene. It is a cold, Christmas Eve day. A well-dressed group of
Carolers sing. A stream of colorful, happy, last-minute shoppers mill
about. A trinket seller, a flower girl and man selling chestnuts and
apples, ply their trade.
CAROLERS: We wish you a Merry Christmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year.
Fred enters and sings with the Carolers.
Good tidings we bring
to you and your kin.
We wish you a Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year.
ALL: Merry Christmas!
Alice enters and Fred and Alice kiss and exit with the Carolers.
A group of "Ragamuffin-boys" enter. They are in high spirits and
one of them distracts the chestnut seller from his cart, while the
others pilfer his apples.
VENDOR: Stop! Stop, you filthy little beggars!
The seller runs after the boys but is tripped by another. The boys
then all run off almost knocking down Mrs. Cratchit and Tim who are
entering.
MRS. C.: Mind where you go. Young ruffians! Are you alright Tim, my
dear?
TIM: Yes, mother.
MRS. C.: Well you keep an eye out for your father. I'll just nip in
and buy uswhat do you think?
TIM: The Goose!
MRS. C.: That's right.
TIM: A big goose?
MRS. C.: As big as you.
Mrs. Cratchit enters into a shop as Tim waits. A rich mother and her
three children cross near Tim, to buy toys from the trinket seller.
RICH GIRL: I must have something. Sarah, look. Oh, Sarah (Giggles).
One of the children (a boy) with a large candy sucker stands near Tim.
He and the boy regard each other. Then the boy's father enters with
a number of colorfully wrapped presents which he heaps upon the
children.
RICH BOY: Father.
The family walks off cheerfully.
As soon as they exit, we hear their screams. The ragamuffin boys enter
from this direction, running. The have several of the children's
trinkets which they toss among themselves. These urchins are extremely
physical. They run, jump and slide past Tim. As Mrs. Cratchit enters
from the shop, the boys disperse.
MRS. C.: There, I believe that's the lot! You're father's eyes
will pop out of his head when he sees our goose. Any sign of him?
TIM: No, not yet.
MRS. C.: Shall we have a peek?
TIM: Why don't father like us visiting him?
MRS. C.: It's not your father, Tim. It's that old ogre he works
for.
TIM: Mr. Scrooge.
MRS. C.: Mmm. Mind, if Scrooge is there, we daren't go in. You're
not feeling too tired, are you dear?
TIM: No mother, not a bit.
MRS. C.: (looking into a shop window) Well, I don't see the tyrant.
(she waves at someone in the shop) And if your father's allowed to
leave early, he'll carry you home, on his shoulder. But, chances
are, he'll be kept working in that frozen little office, just as
late as he possibly can. Christmas Eve, or no Christmas Eve. That
miserly old goat!
The shop door opens and Bob Cratchit peeks out. He surveys the street
as he kisses his wife.
CRATCHIT: Hello my dear. Hello my little cock robin. Are you cold?
TIM: We've got a goose.
CRATCHIT: I'm delighted to hear it. Up y'go.
Bob hoists Tim up onto his shoulders.
MRS. C.: Has his lordship consented to give you the day off?
CRATCHIT: I'm afraid I haven't asked him yet, my love. He's out
at the moment.
MRS. C.: I'm glad he's out! I'd be tempted to give him a piece
of my mind if he were here.
CRATCHIT: That'd be a fine thing. Losing my situation on Christmas
Eve.
MRS. C.: But, you shouldn't have to beg for the day off, Robert.
It's Christmas after all.
Two well-dressed women (Mrs. Blum and Mrs. Denham) have approached the
office door. They consult their papers.
MRS. BLUM: Merry Christmasah, Mr. Scrooge?
MRS. C.: Certainly not!
MRS. BLUM: I beg your pardon, Mr. Marley, then?
CRATCHIT: No. No, I'm ah(to his family) Excuse me, my dears..
Bob puts Tim down.
MRS. BLUM: Is this not the establishment of "Scrooge and Marley"?
CRATCHIT: Yes, but… Mr. Scrooge is out on business at the moment,
although (with meaning to his wife) I do expect him presently.
MRS. DENHAM: May we wait if it's not a problem?
CRATCHIT: By all means, come in ladies, please.
Bob ushers the ladies into the shop asThe ragamuffins run on
laughing
BOY: (looking off) Oy, Scrooge.
The boys exit in Scrooge's direction.
CRATCHIT: 'Must get back to work now, my darlings. I'll be home
just as soon as I can. Are you tired, Tim?
SCROOGE: (shouting from off) Give me that back!
CRATCHIT: Oh dear, lord. Here he comes. I must go.
MRS. C.: We'll be fine, Robert. Hurry home.
The ragamuffins run back in, in a panic. One of them carries a large
ledger. Scrooge enters behind them, in a rage. Bob closes the door of
the office and Tim and Mrs. Cratchit step aside.
SCROOGE: I'll have the law on you riffraff! My ledger, give it
here.
The boy with the ledger evades Scrooge and darts behind a lamp post.
SCROOGE: Hooligan! Come here! I'll pull your ears you young
reprobate. (whacks the post with his cane) Come here!
The boy drops the ledger as his mates pelt Scrooge with snowballs.
Scrooge runs after these boys as Rank and Toll (two affluent looking
businessmen) enter.
RANK: Ah, Mr. Scrooge.
TOLL: The best of the Season, Sir.
RANK: Off home to keep Christmas?
SCROOGE: What?! No! I am not in the habit of keeping Christmas, Sir.
TOLL: Then why are you leaving so early?
SCROOGE: I'm not leaving, Sir, I'm arriving! From the barrister.
Closed, he was! Inconceivable! Four o'clock of an afternoon.
RANK: I suppose he's in the habit of keeping Christmas.
SCROOGE: And Christmas, Sirs, is in the habit of keeping men from
doing a decent days work.
RANK: Oh come, it's only natural at Christmas to close up shop and
celebrate with family and loved ones.
SCROOGE: (having retrieved his ledger from the ground) Natural! Phhh!
Nature has nothing to do with it. Christmas, Sir, is a cheat, a
humbug, perpetrated by greedy merchants to line their own pockets.
Good day!
Scrooge turns and walks to the door of his office.
RANK: How Marley ever tolerated old Scratch all those years, I'll
never know.
TOLL: Two peas in a pod, Sir, Scrooge and Marley. (they exit)
Just as Scrooge is about to enter his office door
CALEB: I beg your pardon, Mr. Scrooge.
SCROOGE: Who are you?
CALEB: Caleb Wilmer, Sir.
SCROOGE: Oh, yes. You owe me some thirty pounds, I believe. Well, if
you want to settle your debt, make an appointment. I don't conduct
my affairs in the street.
CALEB: Sir, I'm sorry to tell you, that II can't pay you, sir.
SCROOGE: What?
CALEB: Not at the present moment, sir but if you could see your way to
wait until after Chr.
SCROOGE: Nonsense. Did I ask you to wait when I lent you the money?
CALEB: No, Sir, but
SCROOGE: Well, then?
CALEB: Sir, I have the prospect of a better job in the New Year,
and
SCROOGE: Well, I sincerely hope this employment can be performed in a
debtors prison because that's where you'll find yourself at the
New Year, Sir.
CALEB: Please (Reaching for Mr. Scrooge)
SCROOGE: Don't you touch me.
CALEB:I beg you, Mr. Scrooge, I can't take my wife and child to a
debtor's prison.
SCROOGE: Then, don't. Why should they follow you, anyway? They
didn't borrow the money, you did. Ha!
CALEB: But Mr. Scrooge, its Christmas!
SCROOGE: Christmas, Christmas, Christmas! What's it got to do with
anything. You'd still be indebted to me, if were the middle of a
heat wave in July. Good day!
SCENE TWO
The Interior of Scrooge's Office. Bob rushes to help Scrooge with
his coat, hat, scarf, cane and ledger. The two ladies approach
Scrooge.
MRS. BLUM: Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge or Mr.
Marley?
SCROOGE: Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years.
MRS. BLUM: Oh, I'm sorry.
SCROOGE: In fact, he died seven years ago this very night.
MRS. DENHAM: On Christmas Eve. Forgive the intrusion on the
anniversary of his death but we have no doubt his generosity is well
represented by his surviving partner. (presenting her credentials)
Scrooge hands the papers back and continues to consult his ledger.
MRS. BLUM: At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge, it is more
than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for
the Poor and Destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time.
SCROOGE: Are there no prisons?
MRS. DENHAM: Plenty of prisons.
SCROOGE: And the Union workhouses? Are they still in operation?
MRS. DENHAM: They are, though I wish I could say they were not.
SCROOGE: The Treadmill and the Poor Law? They are in full vigor, I
presume?
MRS. DENHAM: Both very busy, sir.
SCROOGE: Well, I'm very glad to hear it. I was afraid, from what you
said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their
useful course.
Scrooge hands the ledger to Cratchit and receives in return a number
of receipts which he
regards.
MRS. BLUM: Forgive me, but I don't think you quite understand us,
Mr. Scrooge. We are endeavoring to raise money to buy the Poor some
meat and drink, and means of warmth.
Scrooge moves to the wall safe and gets a bag of coin and returns.
MRS. BLUM:(continuing) We come to you at this time, because the
Christmas season, of all others, is a time when Want is keenly felt
and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?
SCROOGE: Nothing.
MRS. BLUM: You wish to remain anonymous.
SCROOGE: I wish to be left alone. I don't make merry myself at
Christmas and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to
support the establishments I have mentioned- they cost enough- and
those who are badly off must go there.
Scrooge goes up to his desk.
MRS. DENHAM: Many can't go there; and many would rather die.
SCROOGE: Then they better do it, and decrease the surplus population.
(beat) Good afternoon, ladies.
Bob Cratchit rises from his desk and sheepishly shows the ladies out
at the same time letting Fred in. Scrooge returns to his work feeling
better than he's felt all day.
FRED: Merry Christmas ladies, Mr. Cratchit. Merry Christmas, Uncle.
CRATCHIT: Thank you, Sir. The same to you, Sir.
FRED: How's your wife, your family?
CRATCHIT: (a nervous look to Scrooge) All very well, Sir. Extremely
excited.
FRED: Yes, I'm sure. And your youngest boy?
CRATCHIT: Tim, sir.
FRED: Yes. Tim. How's he faring?
CRATCHIT: As well as can be expected, Sir, given the circumstances.
Bless you for asking.
FRED: Good lord, man, you're freezing. Why, it's colder in here
than on the street. You must put some more coal on the fire…
Bob looks nervously to Scrooge. Fred follows his gaze and understands.
SCROOGE: (looking up) I don't pay you a good wage to stand around
and gossip, Mr. Cratchit!
CRATCHIT: No, sir.
FRED: And a merry Christmas to you Uncle!
SCROOGE: Humbug!
FRED: (laughing) Christmas a humbug, you don't mean that, I'm
sure.
SCROOGE: "Merry Christmas!?" What reason have you to be merry?
You're poor enough.
FRED: Come, then, Uncle, what reason have you to be dismal? You're
rich enough.
SCROOGE: Bah! Humbug!
FRED: Don't be cross, Uncle.
SCROOGE: (moving from his desk to consult a file) What else can I be
when I live in such a world of fools as this? What's Christmas-time
to you? Ha? But a time for paying bills without money; a time for
finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer. If I could work
my will, every idiot who goes about with "Merry Christmas" on his
lips should be boiled in his own pudding and buried with a stake of
holly through his heart!
FRED: Uncle!
SCROOGE: Nephew! Keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in
mine.
FRED: But you don't keep it.
SCROOGE: Let me leave it alone, then! Much good may it do you. Much
good has it ever done you.
FRED: There are many things from which I might have derived good, by
which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas among the rest. But,
I've always thought of Christmas-time as a good time; a kind,
forgiving, charitable, pleasant time. The only time I know of, in the
long calendar year, when men and women seem by one consent to open
their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of other people as if they
really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of
creatures bound on separate journeys. And therefore, Uncle, though it
has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that
Christmas has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless
it!
CRATCHIT: (moved, an involuntary sound of joy) Ohhh.
SCROOGE: (to Bob) Let me hear another sound from you and you'll keep
Christmas by losing your situation! (back to Fred) You're quite a
powerful speaker, sir. I wonder you're not in Parliament.
FRED: Don't be angry, Uncle. Come and dine with us tomorrow.
SCROOGE: No, thank you.
FRED: But Uncle, why?
SCROOGE: Why? You know perfectly well why. Why did you marry against
my wishes?
FRED: Because I fell in love.
SCROOGE: (growling) "Fell" in love! With a woman as penniless as
yourself.
FRED: Come Uncle, you never came to see me before I married. Why give
it as a excuse for not coming now?
SCROOGE: I know what it is to be tempted into a life of poverty by a
pretty young Believe me, you're so called love won't keep the
wolf from the door. (consulting watch) Good aft.Good evening.
FRED: Well, I am very sorry, to find you so resolute.
SCROOGE: Good evening!
FRED: I came here in the spirit of Christmas and I won't be dismayed
by you. So a Merry Christmas, Uncle!
SCROOGE: (nothing)
FRED: And a Happy New Year!
SCROOGE: Good evening! Humbug!
As Fred passes Cratchit's desk.
FRED: Merry Christmas to you, Mr. Cratchit.
Standing and escorting Fred to the door.
CRATCHIT: God bless you, Sir; Merrymany happy returns.
Fred exits. Cratchit returns to his desk. The clock begins to tick
loudly. Then the town clock strikes six. Scrooge looks to his own
clock, then his own pocket watch. He clucks and goes back to work. Bob
sits and works, waiting for some signal from Scrooge. Scrooge unable
to concentrate slams his ledger closed.
SCROOGE: What's the use!
Bob takes this as his cue that the day has ended and does the same.
They both blow out their candles.
SCROOGE: (moving to the safe with bag of coins) You'll want the
whole day off tomorrow, I suppose?
CRATCHIT: Yes, sir. If quite convenient, sir.
SCROOGE: It's not convenient. And it's not fair. If I was to dock
you half a crown for it, you'd think yourself ill-used. Wouldn't
you?
Cratchit smiles shyly but says nothing.
SCROOGE: And yet you don't think me ill-used, when I pay a day's
wages for no work. Do you?
CRATCHIT: Well, It's only once a year, sir.
SCROOGE: That's a poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every
twenty-fifth of December!
Scrooge locks money in the safe. Then returns to Cratchit who helps
him on with his coat, hat and scarf. Bob hands him his cane.
CRATCHIT: Yes sir. I'm sure I'm very sorry, Sir, to cause you such
an inconvenience. It's the children, Sir, they put their hearts into
Christmas, as it were, Sir.
SCROOGE: Yes and put their hands into my pockets, as it were, Sir.
Ach, well you'll be no use at all to me, glooming about the place,
so I suppose you'd better take the whole day.
Bob grabs his own coat and hat.
CRATCHIT: Thank you, Sir.
SCROOGE: But be here all the earlier next morning.
CRATCHIT: I will indeed, Sir. It's more than generous of you, Sir.
SCROOGE: Yes, I know it is. You don't have to tell me.
Scrooge begins to exit.
CRATCHIT: Yes, sir. Merry Christmas, Sir.
SCROOGE: (returning to Cratchit) "Merry Christmas?" You a clerk,
at fifteen shillings a week, with a wife and family, talking about a
Merry Christmas. Ha! I shall retire to Bedlam.