Re: Entries - Xmas 2013 short script challenge
Twas the night before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas
Code:
RED LIGHT, so bright it hurts our eyes, fills the screen. And... The red light dims... Fades to... BLACK. Beat. And we slowly PULL BACK to REVEAL The now black nose of RUDOLPH, THE RED-NOSED REINDEER. He lies dead in the snow, a ragged slash across his throat, a frozen pool of blood circling his head like a halo. EXT. NORTH POLE - NIGHT The aurora borealis dances across the sky as a light snow falls. SANTA CLAUS sips from a flask as he eyes the body of Rudolph. Santa's got his customary uniform on, but his coat is open, revealing a stained wife beater. He's still a big man, but the years of disbelief and commercialism have diminished his magic and his stature. DASHER (O.S.) Prancer's over here. Santa raises his eyes: DASHER, the biggest and brawniest, but also the dumbest, of Santa's reindeer, stands next to a mutilated reindeer half- buried in the snow. Santa takes another sip from his flask. SANTA Bring me Doyle. DASHER I don't think that's a good-- Santa gives Dasher a sharp look. Dasher stamps his hooves, but does as he's told and takes off into the northern lights. Santa continues to drink as he stares at Rudolph's body. INT. SANTA'S WORKSHOP - BOILER ROOM - NIGHT Inside the deepest and darkest part of the Workshop, DOYLE, an elf, shovels reindeer sh*t into a gargantuan furnace. He does the jobs no one else wants. DASHER (O.S.) Doyle! Doyle never stops in his Sisyphean task. DASHER (CONT'D) Let's go, Doyle. The Old Man wants you. DOYLE I'm busy. Dasher towers over Doyle, nudges him with an antler. DASHER I said let's-- Doyle whirls on Dasher, the shovel held at port arms. Dasher takes an involuntary step back. Doyle smiles, the smile never reaching his angry eyes. DOYLE What's the Old Man want this time? DASHER It's...it's Rudolph. You gotta come. DOYLE Find someone else to shine his nose. DASHER You don't understand. You gotta come. And Doyle pauses as he sees the fear reflected in Dasher's eyes. EXT. NORTH POLE - NIGHT Doyle looks at the bodies in the snow. Santa points with his flask. SANTA When Rudolph didn't show at the staging area, Dasher went to look for him. This is what he found. Doyle examines the bodies, going from one to the other... DOYLE Rudolph's throat was cut by something other than a knife...and Prancer, well, someone really didn't like Prancer. He looks like he went through a blender. DASHER Why would someone do something like this? DOYLE (shrugs) Jealousy, maybe. Maybe someone didn't like Prancer giving the star of the show too much attention. He looks at Santa. Santa returns the look with a sip from his flask. DASHER Well, I never liked that ***got anyway. Santa whirls on Dasher. SANTA HE WAS ONE OF US! YOU'LL GIVE HIM THE RESPECT HE DESERVES! Dasher cowers before the rage. Doyle looks closely at Prancer's body. DOYLE Hmmm. This is-- SANTA (to himself) F*** me. Dasher and Doyle follow Santa's gaze towards the sky: VIXEN, arcing through the northern lights, lands delicately in the snow a few feet away. VIXEN Have you found him yet? The natives are getting rest-- She stares at the bodies. Dasher moves in front of her. DASHER Hey, baby, you don't need- VIXEN What happened?!! Is that... And she bursts into tears. SANTA (to Dasher) Get her out of here. VIXEN Who's going to lead tonight? DASHER Don't you worry about that, baby, we'll-- VIXEN Get away from me! She composes herself, takes one last look at the bodies, and leaps into the aurora borealis. SANTA (to Dasher) Make sure she doesn't start a panic. Dasher nods and follows. DOYLE You know, I always had a thing for her. SANTA You going to tell me which reindeer did this? DOYLE A reindeer didn't do this. Santa eyes him, flask halfway to his mouth. DOYLE (CONT'D) At first, I thought it was you, but there's just the hint of lilac. SANTA What are you talking about? Doyle shows him: a single strand of white hair. EXT. NORTH POLE - SANTA'S COTTAGE - NIGHT The northern lights have ended. Twinkle of a few stars in a cold darkness. Santa and Doyle trudge through the snow, up to the white picket fence that surrounds Santa's cottage. Lights blaze in the cottage. DOYLE This doesn't surprise you, does it? Santa says nothing, continues to drink. DOYLE (CONT'D) I never liked her. And I think she had more to do with squashing the union than you did. Am I right? Santa upends the flask. Empty. Scowling, he tosses it away. DOYLE (CONT'D) Honestly, I can understand how the bitch would snap. Year after year after year of the humans not believing... Santa stops at the white picket fence. Stares. Doyle follows the stare: BLITZEN's severed head perched on the fence. Santa strokes his beard with a shaking hand. He walks to the door, hesitates... Enters. Doyle stands alone in the dark. MUTTERS with indecision. Makes up his mind and walks into the cottage. INT. SANTA'S COTTAGE - MAIN ROOM SANTA (O.S.) I don't...I don't understand. Doyle peeks around a corner, sees: MRS. CLAUS poking the logs in the fireplace with an antler. She's smiling, strands of white hair plastered onto her cherubic face by sweat and blood; a blood stained apron wrapped around her barrel of a body. MRS CLAUS It's for you, dear. You slave and work and for what? For people who don't believe in you? Who don't care for you? No. They're killing you, and I won't let it happen. SANTA So Rudolph and...and the others? MRS CLAUS This has to end. And what better way than to end it on this night. Now, I've made some cookies and cocoa and we'll take care of the others in the morning. It'll be my Christmas present to you, dear. Santa opens and closes his mouth like a fish gasping for air. DOYLE Okay. I've heard enough... MRS CLAUS I don't like the help inside the house. DOYLE Look, you crazy bitch, let's just put you in a nice comfy straightjacket and we'll-- Mrs. Claus slings the antler at Doyle where it sticks into the wall behind him with a quivering THUNK! Doyle wipes blood off his cheek. The antler cut him. DOYLE (CONT'D) You f***ing bitch. And he leaps on her. They CRASH to the floor, kicking and clawing, while Santa can only watch with confusion and despair. Mrs. Claus stands up, has Doyle in a bear hug and SQUEEEEZES... Doyle grabs her head, puts his thumbs in her eyes and PUSHES! She SCREAMS. And Santa's paralysis breaks. He grabs Doyle by the back of the neck, and throws him against the far wall. THUD! He slides down the wall, stunned, the antler still sticking out of the wall two feet above his head. Santa picks up Doyle by the throat, holds him against the wall. Doyle kicks at Santa, but ineffective. Santa rips the antler out of the wall, puts the sharp tip of it against Doyle's forehead. Mrs. Claus stands right behind Santa, her mouth by his ear. Blood drips from her eyes; one eye dangles against a plump cheek. MRS CLAUS Kill him. Kill him and we can blame all this on him when we're finished. DOYLE (gasps) Don't... Doyle's kicks weaken. MRS CLAUS We'll start over. The antler breaks skin, a trickle of blood down Doyle's forehead. Santa's eyes narrow in rage...and then... His eyes soften and he blinks as if coming out of a dream... MRS CLAUS (CONT'D) We'll start over and get our magic back. Suddenly Santa drops Doyle, and in one fluid motion turns the antler back on himself, and SHOVES it into his throat. It comes out of the side of his neck and into the ear of Mrs. Claus. She SCREAMS and tries to pull away. Santa holds her, pulls her to him and continues to PUSH the antler into the both of them: through his throat and into her head. Blood waterfalls out of them both. Santa looks at Doyle with what...sadness? Relief? Or maybe it's what we want to see in those eyes... The screaming stops and the two stand there for a moment, bathed in blood... Santa smiles. And they collapse. Doyle rises shakily to his feet, stares at the bodies in horror. Silence, broken by the POP of a log in the fireplace. VIXEN (O.S.) Oh my god. Doyle turns. Elves and reindeer crowd the doorway. Shock and confusion and fear in their eyes. VIXEN (O.S.) (CONT'D) What do we do, Doyle? Doyle stares at the bodies on the floor. VIXEN (CONT'D) Doyle. He looks at her. VIXEN (CONT'D) What happens now? Beat. Doyle makes up his mind. DOYLE We're under new management.
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