a comedy as Mr and Mrs Beauregard Crudgemuffin celebrate Christmas in the "old south"
By Michael Wright and Ane Mulligan
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.
Sample of script:
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.
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.
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!
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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