“He’s not going to come back, right?" (Patreon)

Lana whispers offstage as the fourth act begins. "The ward will keep him out, right? We’re safe in here, right?”

“He haz no reazon to come back," the Director declares cautiously. "Krinklematz iz over. But keep that two-tailed lothario on lookout at the window chust to be zafe…”

So… What am I supposed to be doing? I read the script, but there was nothing about my part.

“After careful consideration," Lana explains, "we decided your talents are best used in a non-speaking role.”

What?? That’s SO unfair! My sisters both got speaking parts!

“Yetz, und zey vere very bad at it.”

“HEY!” the other two Minkworthy girls protest in unison.

“Elfs do not lie! If you vant to komm back next time, take zome actink letzonz!”

“Can we just get this over with?" Lana sighs. "I’m sick and tired of being trapped in this building.”

“Fine-fine! Okay, Geist of Future, do your part. ACTION!”

Gladly, but WOT exactly am I supposed to do?

“Chust point at ze visual aids! Zis iz ze eaziest part!”

There are no visual aids.

“Grrrr! STAGE HANT! Vhere are ze visual aids??”

“I couldn’t find 'em,” the clapboard girl shrugs.

“YOU COULDN’T VIND ZEM?? VHY DIDN’T YOU ZAY ZO EARLIER??”

“I was on break.”

“ZOMEBODY GO VIND ZEM!!! I am zurrounded by imbeciles!

“Oh… were those important?" the intern asks sheepishly as he enters with a steaming cup of coffee. "We were running low on firewood, and I found these painted sheets of plywood… I kinda… Chopped them up and put them in the fireplace.”

“INTERN!!!” Lana yells.

“Ugggh…” the Director sighs in defeat. “I should haf expected zis. It vas pure optimism to zink zat anyzink vould go schmoozly… Ze show muzt go on… chust… efferyvone get up zere und pantomime ze visual aid. Mime out a zene of torment und hellfire! You are in ze deepest pit of ze Netzerhells! Zis is ze ultimate fate of all greedy traitors! You muzt schtrike FEAR into ze audience zo zey neffer betray zeir elf lord again! ... All right! Goot, goot ... Geist, now point!”

"NEIN!! CHUST ZE GEIZT OF FUTURE, POINT!”

The other two Minkworthys drop their arms and the Ghost of Kringlemas Future points at the scene of hellish torment in a gloomy and foreboding manner. “Is that it?”

“It iz now. Efferyvone eltz get out of zere. Geist of Future, read ze book.”

“Vhat are you doink? I zaid, READ ZE BOOK!”

You said this was a non-speaking part.

“Zat part iz ofer! You are ze narrator now! READ ZE FUMA DAMNED BOOK!”

Okay, okay. Sheesh. Let me just ... okay. And that's how I stabilized the empire. The End.

“TOO FAR! Zat waz too far! Zere iz ein big bookmark right zere, schtickink out of it! How can you mitz zat??”

Well this is where the page was folded!

"Vhy must alvays I haf to vork mit ze dummkopfen?? Schtart from ze BOOKMARK!”

Okay! As they approached the strange Mel, they heard that he was mumbling to himself-

(Suddenly the door flies open and a quartet of weirdos amble into the room.)

“Oh come on!" Lana protests. "What are you idiots doing out of the Joke Writers' Room??”

“You forgot to feed us, so we gnawed through the door. We didn’t know where else to go.”

"When's dinner?"

“And it’s a good thing we got here too!" the seersucker-wrapped mink confides to the Director. "We know just the thing to spice up your little community theater here! Instead of doing a boring ol’ book reading, you should do a creative spin on The Christmas Carol! No one’s ever done it before! It’s a million dollar idea but I'll let you have for just fifty.”

“Ve already vere doingk- Vait a minute! Vhy in Fuma’s name is zere a Yew-Man in here, und drezzed like zat?”

“It lets me piggyback off someone else’s reputation and legacy. It also lets me get away with blatant plagiarism.”

"Choke Writer?? Zis charlatan can’t even write ein zentence vitzout copyink zomeone eltze’s vork! GET ZIS HACK OUT OF HERE! Zrow him out!”

Lana, the intern, and the clapboard girl all grab the hack writer and toss him out the door into the snow.

“No more interruptions! Please chust read ze schtory before zomesink eltz happens.”

Suddenly a bunch of Lana’s other employees march over the hack writer into the story room, all joyously singing the classic carol “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.”

“Fuma in himmel! Vhat now??”

“What are you all doing here??" Lana yells. "This is a private gathering!”

“We 'eard yer Christmas party wasn’t goin' so well," a curvaceous kangaroo explains. "So we cyme ere to loiven things up! Joyful all ye nytions roise!”

“WHO TOLD YOU THAT??”

“Heh heh heh,” chuckles the Jack-O-Lantern tucked under the kangaroo's arm.

“ZIS IZ EIN MADHOUTZ! I can’t do zis anymore!” The Director steps forward to reveal the shocking truth that he was actually Adler in disguise this whole time. He pulls off his fake mustache and glares at everyone. “Show’s over! You can all pile out! This is why I stay away from show business. I guess I’m just doomed to have you all putting a target on my back every winter.”

Suddenly an icy gust of wind blows down the chimney and douses the fire! In a flurry of snowflakes, THE KRINGLE HIMSELF materializes in front of the fireplace! He stands there in all of his nightmarish festive glory! A hard silence falls over the room.

“No! It can’t be!" Adler yells. "The ward! Kringlemas is over!”

“Why can’t I pook away??” Lana sobs in panic.

“Why in Fuma’s name did I make this STUPID building pook-proof??" Adler blubbers. "Please, Kringlemas is over! You have no reason to take us now!”

"HO HO HO," the Kringle booms terrifyingly. “Silly little elf, your ward was a fake! Your helper used a bogus source, completely by mistake. The season isn't over yet; there’s always lots to do! Filing taxes, next year's prep, and shoveling reindeer poo.” With a malevolently cheerful twinkle in his eye, he adds, “Rudolph and the others never stint on Christmas cheer. They've been hitting the Sugarplum-chili nog extra hard this year.”

“Please have mercy!" Adler pleads, falling to his knees in a less-than-regal manner. "I’ll do anything else! I’ll hand out cards and donate to charity! Just please don’t take us to Frostheim!”

The Kringle throws back his head and gives a horrible laugh, his belly shaking like a bowl of eldritch jelly. “Ho ho ho! Easy now, Adler, there's something you've missed. Believe it or not, you’re on the Nice list.”

“I- uh- Huh??”

Everyone in the room lets out a collective “WHAT??” of amazement.

The Kringle elaborates: “Your listeners betrayed you right into my reach; everyone knows that this much is true. Yet you put on a show, gentle lessons to teach? This was a merciful, kind thing to do. And so I come bearing you no lump of coal, no punishing scourges nor cruel spiny thistle. You’ve earned a gift by your goodness of soul! I am pleased to present you your own Wiener Whistle.”

Adler stands up, dusts himself off, and accepts the trinket with bewilderment. “Um… Thanks?”

“Keep up the good work, bringing goodwill and cheer. Never forget, for there’s always next year.”

“So," Lana laughs nervously. "We’re both on your nice list?”

“Ho ho! Oh, no. Just Adler.” In a single lightning fast move, he throws his sack over Lana, capturing her instantly.

“AAAAHHHH!!!" she bleats from inside the sack. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

With a jolly laugh the Kringle puts his finger on the side of his nose and begins to rise up the chimney.

“My Queen!" the intern yells as he dives across the room. "Don’t leave me!” He grabs onto the Kringle’s sack and is pulled up the chimney along with them.

A deafening silence fills the story room as everyone stands, stunned over what just happened. And then-

“Joy to the world," the kangaroo belts out another Christmas carol. "The Lord is come, let Earth receive her king!”

Adler stands there, holding his toy whistle as everyone sings in a joyous chorus. Members of the crowd slowly approach him one by one to say “Good job!” “I didn’t know you had it in you!” “This is a huge step forward for you!” “Your production over this last month really spoke to us. We’re sorry for betraying you like we did. Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive us?”

The singing continues and someone pops open a bottle of champagne.

“Never in all my years," Adler finally addresses the room. "Never did I think I’d ever say this, but… Merry Kringlemas! Fuma bless us, everyone!” He accepts a glass of champagne and joins in the singing.

But all is not joy and cheer, for meanwhile, somewhere in Frostheim ...

“Rrrrrgh!" Lana groans. "How can only nine reindeer make THIS much crap??”

“You know, ma'am," the intern pipes up, "if you need a break, I know a perfect way we can unwind.”

“INTERN!!! Shut up and keep shoveling!”

Merry Christmas, and happy New Year! Be back next week, when we will resume our normal story.

(Thanks to Typeandkey for writing this star-studded holiday extravaganza)