Crudgemuffin Christmas By Michael Wright and Ane Mulligan
Characters:
Beauregard Crudgemuffin an old-money Southern gentleman Margaret Crudgemuffin, Beau’s wife, a sheltered Southern belle. Scarlett Loblolly, Margaret’s first cousin Woodman, the Crudgemuffins’ English butler Forsythia Wentworth Loblolly, Margaret’s mother.
Scene:
Living room of the Crudgemuffin manse. Woodman is holding a skein of tinsel between his two outstretched hands, at Margaret’s decorative disposal. Beau is assisting - slightly.
Margaret:
Oh, Beauregard. I do so love this time of year. The leaves have fallen, there’s frost nearly every morning now.
Beau:
It may get you in the holiday spirit, Hollybell, but the frost has positively finished off the Jasmine.
Margaret:
Oh, who cares about those puny, fair weather friends anyway. I’m ready for the holiday plants…
Beau:
Like pointsetters?
Margaret:
(completely at a loss) Whut?
Beau:
You know, Pointsetters. Those red and white plants that look like flowers, but don’t let the cat eat ‘em.
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Margaret:
(begins twittering) Oh, …..Beau…….You mean …..poinsettias (ha, ha, ha) every time you said “pointsetters” I thought you were talkin’ about Daddy’s old huntin’ dogs! (ha,ha,ha,)
Beau:
(pretends a slight ) Well. I’m happy I could afford you some amusement ..at my expense, my little Christmas cactus. As I recall, your Daddy’s dogs weren’t much good for the cat either.
(doorbell)
Margaret:
Oh, my! Perhaps its carolers. (looks at her watch) At noon?
Woodman:
Allow me, madam. (He tosses the rest of the tinsel at once on the tree and exits. Marg looks at Bo in amazed approval, as if that was the perfect touch)
(Scarlet sails in as if upon a cloud of good cheer)
Scarlet:
A spectacular pre-winter felicitation to my two favorite kin! I have arrived with my decorating expertise to save you from the numerous and sully Martha Stewardian Faux Pas out there, just waiting to spring and catch your color scheme in their tasteless jaws.
Beau:
Somehow “Howdy back” seems woefully inadequate.
Margaret:
(Embracing Scarlet) My favorite cousin Scarlet! You are as marvelous as ever! And your timin’ is impeccable, as usual:
Scarlet:
It’s lunchtime?
Margaret:
Momma’s comin’!
Scarlet:
This very day?
Margaret:
This very hour!
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Beau:
This very hard to take.
Scarlet:
I am positively thrilled! I haven’t seen Aunt Forsythia in a month of Sundays!
Margaret:
You were always her favorite niece, you know.
Beau:
I thought she was the only niece….
Margaret:
Shush, now darlin’ I think your huntin’ dogs are barkin’. You know, the point…
Beau:
…certainly. I’ll just give them a rudimentary visual inspection…
Margaret:
….and look at them too, while you’re at it.
Beau:
Certainly. Capital Idea, my little mistletoe.
Scarlet:
(conspiratorially) Cousin, he’s makin’ fun of your feet again. (he exits and she eyes the tossed tinsel) Shades of the barbarian hordes! Whoever has assaulted this poor tree with such tinsular insensitivity!?!
Margaret:
Kitty! Where is that ol’ cat? You rascal! (enter Woodman)
Woodman:
The honorable, widowed Mrs. Forsythia Wentworth Loblolly.
(She sweeps in with as much “sweep” she has left, which ain’t much)
Girls:
Momma/Aunt Forsythia! However are you?? (etc) (they group hug)
Forsythia:
My precious Rosebuds! You are as lovely as ever! (almost a whisper) Straighten the posture, Margaret, dear. Scarlet, your nose is shinier that a new nickel. (Both Margaret & Scarlet look miffed at the reprimand)
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Margaret:
Oh, momma, how perfect! You’ve come just in time to help trim the tree! Woodman! Please bring in that dusty, old bag in from the hall (Margaret and Scarlet do a “take” to Forsythia. Not a sound is made.)
Forsythia:
Why do I sense such restraint? (Immediately in bursts Woodman with a large shopping bag full of decorations)
Woodman:
As you requested, Madam. Shall I notify Mr. Beauregard?
Forsythia:
Please do, Woodman. (Woodman exits) It was such a long ride and I could use some amusement.
Scarlet:
Well, these things aren’t going to place themselves (indicating the decorations).
Margaret:
Indeed! Lets all begin. (in comes Beau as they begin to trim the tree. Woodman follows him in and goes to his “station” near the door).
Beau:
How festive. And dear Mother Loblolly! (kissy, kissy) I declare, my old darlin’, you haven’t aged a moment since I last saw you!
Forsythia:
Beauregard Crudgemuffin! I see you could still go into the fertilizer business. You old charmer!
Margaret:
Now this reminds me of Christmases when I was a little bitty girl. Remember, Momma? Cousin Scarlet and I and you an’ Daddy would all gather around the Christmas tree an’ decorate it together? I wish we could recapture those old days!
Forsythia:
I do remember indeed, Margaret, darlin’. I remember your Cousin Scarlet (eyes Scarlet who is placing tinsel so carefully on the tree) had a Martha Stewart bent even then! She’d get all fired up if you put so much as 2 pieces of tinsel on one branch! And, law! She took ever so long to trim the tree!
Scarlet:
Why Aunt Forsythia! You always said you loved the way I laid the tinsel! You said it caught the firelight so pretty.
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Margaret:
OH! Beau, honey, do you suppose we could light a fire in the fireplace? And don’t pout, Scarlet. Momma’s only teasin’ you, aren’t you Momma? (Beau moves to the fireplace and begins tolay a fire)
Forsythia:
Of course I am, child! I love the way you lay tinsel. It looks like icicles.
Beau:
Lightin’ a fire at Christmastime always makes me think of Granny Crudgemuffin: My Grandma loved a fireplace so much, one Christmas when us kids were still little ol’ bitty things, we used her wooden leg as the yule log. It was sort of a surprise. We all came up with the idea while Granny was nappin’. We all thought she’d be touched, but in reality, she was mightily miffed. She said: “I shaved the splinters off that thing for six months. As soon as I get it passable smooth fer nylon stockin’s, you go and throw it into the fireplace.” She was the first person I had ever seen who was literally hoppin’ mad!
Scarlet:
(laughing) Why you little firebug, you!
Margaret:
Oh, my… Yule logs. That’s a funny tradition, isn’t it? And speaking of funny traditions, (she looks around to Woodman) Woodman, isn’t there some sort of money-burial ritual your people observe?
Woodman:
Verrrry close madam. Most families upheld the tradition of hiding a few sixpence in the Christmas pudding.
Margaret:
Wasn’t that some sort of health hazard?
Woodman:
It was washed thoroughly beforehand, Madam. Then wrapped in wax paper and inserted, sanitarily, into the pudding. There, to lie in environmentally-safe hiding until a lucky child found it with their fork.
Margaret:
Did it affect the taste?
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Woodman:
In some ways, yes. It seemed that if you found the sixpence in the first piece, you appetite was mysteriously satisfied. However, ones who were not so lucky right away could consume tremendous quantities of the confection.
Forsythia:
That sounds kind of like the little game we used to play during the Great War, when food ration coupons were scarce. Of course, Daddy never condoned any foolishness with currency, so cook would hide a bit of the Christmas pig in the corn puddin.
Scarlet:
They called it “Hide the Chitlin”.
Forsythia:
Mercy, yes and the winner got to lead the Pork Bone Parade through the livin’ room, out the front door, around the house, across the back lawn and over to Uncle Winthrop’s Studio where he would then carve the flatter bones with precious little teeny tiny Currier & Ives scenes in scrimshaw.
Beauregard:
I thought one usually performed scrimshaw on ivory, Mother Loblolly.
Forsythia:
Well, darlin’, it was durin’ the war, and nice things were scare. One did with what one could find, and pork bones were aplenty.
Margaret:
Momma, do you remember Auntie Gladys?
Forsythia:
Shush, Margaret, we don’t discuss your Auntie Gladys. Whatever made you think of her anyway?
Margaret :
Oh, come on, Momma, it’s just family. And Auntie Gladys just loved Christmas celebrations.
Forsythia:
(Eyeing Woodman) Well, if you say so. Go ahead. But your Auntie Gladys loved ANY excuse for a celebration, if you get my drift. She was a bit of a tippler (she motions drinking).
Margaret :
Auntie Gladys was so fond of the holidays. Matter of fact, she was always filled with the Christmas spirit even in the Spring! Anyway, I remember the Christmas we had
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the new Preacher and his wife for Christmas dinner. Auntie Gladys was playing her favorite recording, “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer”, while she was making a batch of her famous eggnog. She was so swept away by the singing, she lost track of how many jiggers of rum she’d plopped into the bowl. We all feared the worst when, after the 3rd eggnog, the Preacher suddenly hopped to his feet, sang God Bless America in his best baritone. Then he called to his wife “It’s a long way to Tipararee, Enid. I’m off.” He went straight out the front door, and no one’s seen hide nor hair of him to this very day.
Beauregard:
Whatever happened to your Auntie Gladys?
Margaret:
All that eggnog finally got to her, Beau, honey. When she died, we had her cremated and it took three days to put out the fire.
Forsythia:
Well, at least she always made Christmas fun, unlike my brother, who disliked any form of frivolity. Poor Scarlet, we always tried to include her in our Christmases.
Scarlet:
I remember Daddy would start getting really cranky the day after Thanksgiving, actin’ for all the world like Ebenezer Scrooge. Of course, from the time we were about 6 years old, cousin Margaret and I helped his cheery mood along by singing Christmas carols at the top of our lungs from Thanksgiving on. One year, I bought a mess of those tiny little individually wrapped candy canes and hid them in every chair where I thought Daddy might sit and would find them. He never said a word but one evenin’ after dinner, Daddy handed me a sack of very sorry looking peppermint dust. It seems it might have been more prudent for me to secret the little candies on TOP of the seat cushions. However, Momma, being a true heroine of Southern Motherhood and Holiday Cheer, labeled the bag “Candy Cane Seeds” in big ole letters and “planted” them in the window box outside my the kitchen window. Sure enough, on Christmas mornin’ there was a fine crop of candy canes in that flower box. And they “bloomed” for years to come. Downright annoyed my Daddy somethin’ fierce!
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Margaret:
(Sighing) We’ve seemed to have lost some of those delightful joys of Christmas, what with all the entertainin’ and gift givin’ we do. I sometimes look back on my childhood and wish for those simpler days.
Beauregard:
You’re right, hushpuppy. We must incorporate a new tradition to our Christmas celebrations to insure we don’t leave out the reason for our celebrations. The “reason” for the “season”, you might say.
Woodman:
If I may, sir, (waits for a nod from Beauregard) in our family on Christmas Eve, we each took a piece of paper looking similar to a utility bill and inscribed our transgressions on it. Then Father would gather them up. He would give them back to us first thing on Christmas morning marked over in big red letters, “PAID IN FULL”. That was to remind us that Christ came to pay a debt He did not owe, because we owed a debt we could not pay.
Beauregard:
Capital idea, Woodman! We shall incorporate it into the Crudgmuffin Family Christmas! Paper everyone!
Everyone writes on their papers, as they sing……..
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