This monologue, POLES APART, was first performed last year by the peerless D. Jennifer Dawson in our evening of Christmas one-acts at the Creative Arts Studio in Sea Cliff NY.
POLES APART
(Mrs Santa Claus, seated, in spotlight)
MRS SANTA
He
was a good man. A jolly man. He made me laugh. He could do things with his belly that would
have me on the floor.
Very
wise, too, for all his childlike innocence.
He had street smarts. His
knowledge of geography and aviation - matchless.
And
he had a lovely tenor voice. Not many
people knew that about him. They
figured, “ho ho ho”, gotta be a bass-baritone.
No, he could get up there. E over
high C. He’d sing “Di quella pira”, crack the icicles right off the roof.
And
as a husband, what can I say? He was
gentle and attentive. A skillful
lover. Surprisingly flexible. Hey, any man who can squeeze through a
chimney, you know?…Yes, we spent five hundred wonderful years together. I thought I knew him pretty well.
So
when all these allegations of worker abuse came out, I was naturally
shocked. Flabbergasted. I saw it on the news, and I swear, the hot
cocoa squirted right through my nose.
Because
believe me, the elves are very happy here.
Always singing, whistling, playing leapfrog and such. They get unlimited
gingerbread cookies, all the eggnog they can drink…it’s a dream workplace. I had no idea it was just a front, that he
was farming all the work out to China. I mean, okay, sometimes I wondered, how do
these little bozos make any toys, all they ever do is dance in circles and blow
bubbles? Somebody’s gotta pick up a
hammer once in a while.
So
that was a blow. Then came the whole
Vixen scandal. Which was a set-up, as
far as I’m concerned. Those pictures
were clearly Photoshopped. See, my
husband and the reindeer worked as a team.
When you’re circumnavigating the globe in 24 hours, dodging airplanes,
satellites, geese, no bathroom breaks, there has to be an implicit level of
trust.
So
was he spending a lot of time down at the stables? Did he maybe get a little too involved in
their personal lives? But that’s just
his way. He needs to know who’s been
naughty or nice.
And
I saw him with Vixen. He was affectionate, sure. He would scratch behind
her ears, feed her lumps of sugar, give her a pat on the rump after a good
flight. Same as with me. But it was all very paternal. Those reindeer
were his children. He would never…! Funny, the one I was always worried about
was Prancer.
So
no, I don’t believe any of these stories.
Look, my husband was a powerful man, he had a lot of enemies, people who
wanted to take him down. The Easter
Bunny. The Sandman. Mother Goose…did you ever catch her act? She’s got those poor kids in Storyland
getting eaten by wolves, breaking their crowns, eggs cracking wide open and you
can’t put them back together…It’s like Dante’s Inferno over there. You should do a story about her, the sadistic bitch.
So
what I’m saying is, he had his issues, yes, but the divorce had nothing to do
with that. We were just growing
apart. He was becoming very
conservative. He insisted global warming
was a hoax: “It’s plenty cold up
here!” Of course it’s cold, it’s the
North Pole, you idiot. And he kept
ranting about immigration; he was obsessed with illegal dwarves crossing the
border. He also had a little thing for
Ann Coulter, which I won’t even pretend to understand.
Plus,
to be honest, he was losing a few steps.
Messing up toy orders, delivering to the wrong houses. He couldn’t spring to his sleigh anymore; he
needed a footstool. Every night I’d
find bits of food stuck in his beard.
Not just crumbs, but whole chunks of meat, carrot sticks. He’d aim for his mouth, miss, and just
forget about it. It was very sad.
So
something had to be done. The Claus brand was in danger of being diminished.
I couldn’t let that happen.
I
got the house, the workshop, the toys.
He got the magic sleigh. Which
was fine, I didn’t need it. FedEx,
Amazon – that’s the way to go now.
I
haven’t seen him since the court settlement.
I don’t know where he is or what he’s up to. There was a rumor he might be on Dancing
With the Stars, but that never panned out. I just hope he’s staying clean. There was a time back in the 70’s when he was
hooked on nutmeg. That was scary.
Do
I miss him? Come on - He was Santa Claus. A legend. He took me to magical places. But sooner or later, you have to grow
up. How much friggin' merriment can you take?
I
have a new romance now. He’s a younger
man. Skinny little thing. No beard.
I met him on-line. We do yoga
together, take long walks on the glacier…He’s very serious.
(chuckles)
He
doesn’t even believe in Santa Claus.
(then, wistfully)
But
I do. I still do…
(SOUND of jingling SLEIGH BELLS in the distance, as
we FADE OUT)
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