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One-Act Plays by Jimmy Brunelle
Couch Potato Santa
a one-act comedy for Christmas
13 players, either gender
20 minutes/ 15 pages
script + 1st performance: $25.00
extra performances: $5.00


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Playwright's Note

Couch Potato Santa is a complete, for-the-fun-of-it, farce. Go for it. Be over the top and make it zip. The TV should be invisible and part of the 4th wall. Make sure all the actors pick the same spot to look at. The melody to the songs sung by the elves should be made up by either the actors, director, or someone musical. They can be like raps, too. All characters can be played by any age, gender, or grade. Merry Christmas!

Characters

SANTA
MRS. CLAUS
KOOPIE (elf)
MANGOLIO (elf)
BANASKA (elf)
AGGIGGY (elf)
HOOL (elf)
DR. IGLOO
RUDOLPH (reindeer)
BLITZEN (reindeer)
DONNER (reindeer)
FRANCIS (a kid)
ALEX (a kid)

Setting

Santa's living room at the North Pole.

Stage Requirements

A couch. A remote control. Extra Santa clothes with which to litter the living room. A clothes basket. A big funky nose for Rudolph.

Production History

Couch Potato Santa was first staged on December 14th, 2001 at Carbullido Elementary School in Barrigada, Guam. It was also produced later the same month at the following schools:

Manteca Day School, Manteca, CA
Palmer Rapids School, Palmer, Ontario
Willard Elementary Busy, KY
Culver Community Youth Group Culver, IN
Harlandale Gifted Program , San Antonio , TX
Del Norte Middle School, Del Norte , CO
Birch River School, Manitoba, Canada
Cliffside Park HS, Cliffside Park, NJ
Heights Elementary, Clarkston, WA
Howard School, Winchester, VA

Date Published

Couch Potato Santa was first published in 2001.

Synopsis

Santa has been lying on the couch watching TV for many weeks. He refuses to work, eat or shower. Mrs. Claus is a bit annoyed with his behavior. She tries to get him off the couch, but to no avail. She resorts to sending squads of elves, reindeer, kids, and a psychiatrist into the living room, hoping to cheer him up. They all finally get Santa to say what is bothering him. He makes a deal with Mrs. Claus, gets off the couch, and he goes back to work. Christmas is saved

READ SCRIPT SAMPLE

Copyright Notice
This unlicensed sample of Couch Potato Santa is provided for reading & shopping purposes only. Permission to perform on stage, or use in a classroom, in whole or in part, is granted only to those who pay the royalty for the licensed script.
©2001

Couch Potato Santa
a one-act play by Jimmy Brunelle

(LIGHTS UP. SANTA LIES ON A COUCH WATCHING TV. HE IS DRESSED IN SANTA CLOTHES. THE ROOM IS LITTERED WITH CLOTHES. HE CLICKS THE REMOTE CONTROL. HE IS VISIBLY DISSATISFIED WITH EACH CHANNEL. HE FINDS ONE HE LIKES. ENTER MRS. CLAUS WITH A CLOTHES BASKET. SHE PICKS UP CLOTHES FROM THE FLOOR)

MRS. CLAUS: Santa. Look at you. You've been lying here for a month. You know, the big night is in a week and everyone is wondering when you are going to show up. By the way—just in—only a few people know—Rudolph got a "nose job."

SANTA: Happiness and cheer.

MRS. CLAUS: It doesn't glow the same way. I think his nasal guidance system is going to be impeded—severely. What about foggy nights?

SANTA: Well, we could have that self-driving sleigh by now. Just tell it where to go and it just goes there. Hey sleigh, go to this house, go to that house, go to Taco Bell! Well, we could have that self-driving sleigh by now. Just tell it where to go and it just goes there. Hey sleigh, go to this house, go to that house, go to Taco Bell! I could just throw the reins away for good, sit back, and get all cozy. But no, you—

MRS. CLAUS: No more about that newfangled sleigh. You have to get up now. By the way, you're beginning to stink, you need a shower. Ow! (HOLDS HER BACK) Sure could use a hot tub. I said sure could use a hot tub.

SANTA: Your back is fine. You know, it's something every week with you.

MRS. CLAUS: That's not true.

SANTA: Last week it was that foot massager for your corns.

MRS. CLAUS: I needed it.

SANTA: You don't have any corns.

MRS. CLAUS: I might get some.

SANTA: Oh, and let us not forget the monthly bill for Psychic Hotline.

MRS. CLAUS: I need a helping hand.

SANTA: To the nuthouse.

MRS. CLAUS: They accurately predicted your depression

SANTA: I am not depressed. I'm just...I don't know. I just feel like watching TV. I don't see anything wrong with that.

MRS. CLAUS: You're not eating. You're getting too thin. You don't look like the Santa everyone knows and loves.

SANTA: I don't see why I have to be plump anyway.

MRS. CLAUS: I like you that way.

SANTA: Ugh.

MRS. CLAUS: So you're not going get off that couch?

SANTA: Nope.

MRS. CLAUS: Are you going to work this Christmas?

SANTA: Nope.

MRS. CLAUS: And you're not depressed?

SANTA: I'm happy. I've never been happier. It's just me and this beautiful creation called streaming. Now leave, I'm trying to watch this movie.

MRS. CLAUS: You've seen this a million times. It's dumb.

SANTA: Do NOT call Toy Story dumb. Ever.

MRS. CLAUS: What is your fascination?

SANTA: The toys get themselves around. They're independent. I'd never have to leave this couch. In fact, I'm never going to leave it. Go.

MRS. CLAUS: Okay. If that's the way you want it—but I'm not quitting. I will cheer you up. I will get you off that couch. (TO THE AUDIENCE) Oh, yes, I will.

(LIGHTS DOWN. LIGHTS UP. ENTER THREE ELVES: KOOPIE, MANGOLIO, AND BANASKA. THEY WALK IN A FUNNY, RHYTHMIC WAY. THEY PLAY EVERYTHING TO THE AUDIENCE)

KOOPIE, MANGOLIO, AND BANASKA: (SINGING)
La, la, la-la , la, la
we've come to save the day
la, la, la-la , la, la
Santa's in a bummed out way
la, la, la-la , la, la
We are here to make him laugh
la, la, la-la , la, la
Santa needs a bath

KOOPIE: I am Koopie.

SANTA: What's with the name? You're Elf 36.

MANGOLIO: I am Mangolio.

SANTA: Elf 42.

BANASKA: I am Banaska.

SANTA: Yeah, and I'm the Easter Bunny...Elf 61.

KOOPIE, MANGOLIO, AND BANASKA:
La, la, la-la , la, la
it's time to tell a joke
la, la, la-la , la, la
before Santa starts to croak

KOOPIE: So, Mangolio, why did the reindeer open his umbrella?

MANGOLIO: I don't know, why?

KOOPIE: Because it was beginning to rain dear!

KOOPIE, MANGOLIO, AND BANASKA:
La, la, la-la , la, la
we're here to give our gift
la, la, la-la , la, la
Santa needs a lift

BANASKA: So, Koopie, how many Rudolphs does it take to screw in a light bulb?

KOOPIE: I don't know, how many?

BANASKA: None. He doesn't need light bulbs.

KOOPIE, MANGOLIO, AND BANASKA:
La, la, la-la , la, la
we are the funny kind
la, la, la-la , la, la
Santa's dragging his behind

MANGOLIO: So, Banaska, what do you get when you cross an elf with a microbe?

BANASKA: I don't know, what?

MANGOLIO: A tall microbe willing to work for less than minimum wage!

SANTA: Get out! I'm trying to watch Toy Story. The toys have consciousness and self-will. Don't you see the beauty in that?

KOOPIE, MANGOLIO, AND BANASKA: La, la, la-la , la, la...

SANTA: Out!

KOOPIE, MANGOLIO, AND BANASKA: But Santa...

SANTA: Out! Before I put you all back on the telemarketing squad hawking my ab-crunchers.

(KOOPIE, MANGOLIO, AND BANASKA EXIT. ENTER AGGIGGY AND HOOL, HOOL LIES DOWN IN FRONT OF SANTA. AGGIGGY TICKLES HOOL)

AGGIGGY: Awoogy, woogy, woogy...(ANY BABY-TALK GIBBERISH WILL DO HERE)

HOOL: (IMPROVISE) Stop. Please stop...(AGGIGGY STOPS)

AGGIGGY: Santa want some. Oh, yeah, I think Santa wants some. (THEY TICKLE SANTA) A woogy, woogy, woogy...

SANTA: I'm not going to laugh. I am in complete control. (STARTS LAUGHING) No, please stop. Please. Stop. (IMPROVISE! THEY STOP)

AGGIGGY AND HOOL: Santa feel all better?

SANTA: I was happy to begin with, now get out. I'm not leaving this couch.

AGGIGGY AND HOOL: But Santa...

SANTA: Get out, or I'll make each of you bathroom attendants in the reindeer barn.

(THEY EXIT. ENTER DONNER AND BLITZEN)

BLITZEN: Hey, boss, what's up?

SANTA: Hi, Blitzen.

DONNER: Hey, boss, what's up?

SANTA: Hello, Donner.

BLITZEN: Sorry, but I have to do this, Boss. I owe him one. (LIKE AN ANNOUNCER) And now here he is, straight from the best veterinary cosmetic surgeon in Fairbanks, Alaska, Rudolph the New-Nose Reindeer!

(ENTER RUDOLPH WEARING A HUGE NOSE THAT IS OBVIOUSLY FAKE)

RUDOLPH: Surprise! Don't you just love it? I am a new deer. I thought I'd get a new look, not just for me, but for the team. A good looking team is a well-received team. Doesn't this just cheer you up?

SANTA: Is that your nose or are you eating a pickle?

RUDOLPH: (SHOCKED) Santa.

SANTA: Is that your nose or is it a foot? Oh, it's definitely a foot.

BLITZEN: Good ones, boss.

DONNER: Yeah, good ones.

(BLITZEN GETS ANNOYED WHEN DONNER REPEATS WHAT HE SAYS)

SANTA: You should join the Navy and work on a submarine. You could be the smellascope. Up smellascope.

RUDOLPH: Santa. I don't deserve this. I've been your go-to-guy for years. Especially on foggy nights.

BLITZEN: Ah, here he goes again.

DONNER: Yeah, here he goes again.

RUDOLPH: Who's the one who get's us past Mt. McKinley every year? Me. Who's the one who gets us the Pizzazz Award every year at the Reindeer Olympic Games? Me. Who gets us through the Taco Bell drive-thru so we can get your chalupas? Me.

SANTA: I appreciate the work you do, Rudy. I just want to watch my movie.

RUDOLPH: You've been lying here for weeks, Santa.

BLITZEN: Yeah, Mrs. Claus told me to tell ya that we're getting lazy. We just lie there in our stalls eating hay and watching Seinfeld reruns. Personally, I like it. It's the life.

DONNER: The life.

SANTA: Blitzen, you're right. No Christmas this year. Chill out. Let the kids order their stuff on-line.

BLITZEN: You mean it boss?

SANTA: Yup.

BLITZEN: Cool. Let's go.

RUDOLPH: Wait. Wait. Mrs. Claus said she'd get me designer handkerchiefs if we got him off the couch.

BLITZEN: Is that your nose or am I in a redwood forest?

DONNER: Is that your nose or am I in a redwood forest?

RUDOLPH: (TO AUDIENCE) They're all jealous.

(THEY EXIT. ENTER DR. IGLOO)

DR. IGLOO: Hello, I am Doctor Igloo. I am a psychiatrist. You must be Santa Claus. Though, you're a little thinner than I thought you would be. I'm sorry, I mentioned your weight. Even though you're thin, it's rude to mention people's appearances. You can mention mine if you want, just be nice. (NO ANSWER) I'm here because Mrs. Claus said that you might be a little depressed.

SANTA: I'm full of glee.

DR. IGLOO: (TRYING TO LOOK AT TV, BUT RESTRAINS HIMSELF IN AN OBVIOUS WAY) What are you watching?

SANTA: Toy Story.

DR. IGLOO: Ah, I've heard of it.

SANTA: Watch it.

DR. IGLOO: (LOOKS AT TV. LOOKS AWAY) I can't—movies are evil. (LOOKS AGAIN. LOOKS AWAY) I can't—movies are evil.

SANTA: Suit yourself. Movies are my life.

DR. IGLOO: I wanted movies to be my life... I said I wanted movies to be my life...I said...

SANTA: I heard you.

DR. IGLOO: (KEEPS LOOKING AT THE MOVIE THEN LOOKING AWAY. AN INTERNAL FIGHT) It's just that when a person says something like "I wanted movies to be my life" the other person should say something like "well, what happened? Why aren't they your life?" Well, I'll tell you why they aren't. I was brought up by a mean step-3rd cousin. My step-3rd cousin you ask? Well, she was my step-mother's 2nd cousin on her father's side. What happened to your step-mother you ask? She died at the hairdresser's under one of those industrial-strength hair dryers. She went in for a perm, dehydrated to begin with—she was a sun worshipper—and the dryer just sucked the last drop of moisture from her body. She shrivelled up like a prune. Anyway, to make a long story short, my mean step 3rd cousin thought I should be a doctor. I wanted to be a director—you know, make independent films about ordinary people who work in buildings—but it was "you have to go to medical school" everyday of my life. I'd ask over and over "Please, can I watch a movie?" and she'd just say "Movies are evil. Movies are evil. MOVIES ARE EVIL!" And, now, here I am. I'm sad. Sad, you ask? Yes, I'm very unhappy. My life is all about me. I live alone—I don't count the parakeet—and all I do is play X-box and watch funny cat videos on Youtube—they're so cute and cuddly and nutty and kooky. I can't have a cat—they give me hives and they like to eat parakeets. It's tragic. I need...I need...I don't know what I need. Just help me. Please. Tell me what to do, Santa. I thought I'd try the on-line dating, but what if I create a profile and no one answers? Well, I'll just die, that's what. I'll die! But if I don't get out and meet someone, it'll be me and the parakeet forever. But what if I do meet someone and she doesn't like cat videos? I don't think I could date someone who doesn't like cat videos. (LOOKS AT MOVIE. TURNS AWAY) No, I can't—"movies are evil, movies are evil, movies are evil...." (EXITS. ENTER MRS. CLAUS, FRANCIS, AND ALEX. THEY SURROUND THE COUCH)

MRS. CLAUS: Go ahead, you're my last resort.

FRANCIS: It's Santa! Santa! Santa!

ALEX: Santa! Santa! You're so skinny, Santa.

FRANCIS: Santa isn't saying anything.

(THERE IS A GOOD OPPORTUNITY FOR CHOREOGRAPHED PHYSICAL COMEDY DURING THE NEXT BEAT. THE KIDS FIGHT FOR A SPOT ON SANTA. SANTA IS ALSO FIGHTING THEM OFF BY PUSHING WITH HIS LEGS. THEY FINALLY END UP ON THE ARMS OF THE COUCH)

ALEX: Let me tell you what I want, Santa.

FRANCIS: Me first.

ALEX: Me first.

FRANCIS: No, me first.

ALEX: I came in the room first.

FRANCIS: I was born first.

ALEX: My Father was born before yours.

FRANCIS: My mother can lift more than your father.

ALEX: Well, my mother is psychic and knows everything about Mrs. Claus.

FRANCIS: My Father says psychics are know-it-alls in disguise.

ALEX: Take that back.

FRANCIS: No.

ALEX: Take it back or I'll...or I'll...or I'll

FRANCIS: Or you'll what?

ALEX: Pee my pants.

FRANCIS: Alex is a baby. Alex is a baby. Alex...

ALEX: That's it, I'm peeing my pants.

SANTA: Okay, alright, alright. (TO FRANCIS. PATS ARM OF COUCH) You sit here, (TO ALEX) and you sit here—wait. (YANKS A PLASTIC BAG FROM BENEATH THE CUSHIONS AND PLACES IT ON THE ARM. ALEX SITS ON IT) Now, what do you want?

ALEX: (IMPROVISE) I want the new Nintendo, I want a new smart phone, I want a new bike, I want a new smart TV for my room, I want a new skateboard, I want roller blades...

(FRANCIS CAN'T CONTAIN HIMSELF. HE JOINS IN)

FRANCIS: I also want the new Nintendo, I want a robot that cleans my room and gives me the credit when asked who cleaned it, I want a drone that soars high and low and has cameras and laser beams and hands like eagle claws so it can bring me things from near and far—I will be the master of the skies! My neighbors will bow in fear to my dominance! I will rule the world—

SANTA: Stop! That's it. I've had enough. It's always "I want this. I want that. I want to rule the world"—you’re weird, kid—what about what I want? All I ever get is cocoa and toast.

FRANCIS: But that's what you like.

SANTA: I like coffee and corn muffins, kid. You try staying awake after a couple of million cups of cocoa. It's hard enough having an ancient sleigh yanked around by lazy reindeer. (PAUSE A BEAT) You know, I took this job because I got to ride in a flying sleigh.

ALEX: It's the reindeer that fly, Santa, not the sleigh.

SANTA: Hey, kid, you know what I mean. When I was a boy, that's all I ever wanted to do. I was obsessed with flying sleighs. My uncle flew one in the old North Pole Sky Race. He finished in sixteenth place one year. I was so proud. Then hundreds of years ago, I finally got this job. I've had the same sleigh since day one...

FRANCIS: With all due respect to your uncle, sixteenth place doesn't sound so good.

SANTA: My point is...

ALEX: I could see if he came in first, but sixteenth.

SANTA: There were sixty sleighs in that race...

FRANCIS: All my sports heroes say that it's first place that counts.

SANTA: That's not always true—he came in sixteenth with two less reindeer...

ALEX: It's not like he's in the hall of fame of sleigh racing, Santa.

SANTA: I was trying to make a point about how I feel about my sleigh...(ENTER DR. IGLOO)

DR. IGLOO: Face it, Santa. You were disappointed that your uncle didn't win.

SANTA: My uncle doesn't matter. I'm talking about...

DR. IGLOO: Just like the way my mean step-3rd-cousin was disappointed that I was 2nd in my class at medical school.

SANTA: You're not listening...

DR. IGLOO: So, I have an irrational fear of skeletons. I can't help it. Bones freak me out. (TOUCHES HIS BONES) I have bones under my skin. Ooooh. Gross. Yuckeepoo. She should have understood that...

SANTA: My sleigh is a piece of junk! An eyesore! It's not cool!

(THROUGHOUT THIS NEXT BEAT, MRS. CLAUS GETS SPASMS IN HER BACK THAT ARE INCREASINGLY WORSE AND OVER-DRAMATIZED)

MRS. CLAUS: So that's what this—you've become a couch potato because I won't let you have that newfangled sleigh. The answer is still no.

SANTA: The new sleigh has internet, streaming TV, and I can even sleep! And this kid even has me thinking of using some drones. No more chimneys for me.

MRS. CLAUS: Nope.

SANTA: It doesn't even need reindeer.

MRS. CLAUS: The reindeer need jobs.

BLITZEN: Excuse me, Mrs. Claus, for being so bold, but we don't need...

MRS. CLAUS: Don't be bold. You need to work. Santa, forget that sleigh—that's that.

SANTA: But it's so cool.

MRS. CLAUS: (LYING ON THE FLOOR BY NOW) Over my dead body.

SANTA: Well, I'm just going to lie here until the new year.

FRANCIS: But Santa, there has to be a Christmas.

ALEX: Yeah, how are we going to get what we want?

SANTA: McDonald's is hiring younger every year, kid.

MRS. CLAUS: Alright, you asked for it. Everyone, let him have it.

(ENTER EVERYONE AT ONCE. THEY SAY THEIR LINES ALL AT ONCE, REPEATING AND BUILDING IN MADNESS. A WONDERFUL CRESCENDO. FEEL FREE TO IMPROVISE LINES)

KOOPIE, MANGOLIO, AND BANASKA:
La, la, la-la , la, la
Santa is a filthy grouch
La, la, la-la , la, la
Santa is sticking to the couch.

AGGIGGY AND HOOL: (TICKLING EACH OTHER) A woogy, woogy, woogy...

DR. IGLOO: I'm so lonely. Help me. I'm so lonely. Help me. I'm so lonely...

RUDOLPH: Look at my nose. Look at it. Look at my nose. Look at it...

BLITZEN AND DONNER: We don't want to work we want to lie on the hay all day...

ALEX: I want the new X-box and every single game ever made for it, I want...(IMPROVISE)

FRANCIS: I want a red drone, a blue drone, a drone that goe to space, a drone that operates on people, a drone that...(IMPROVISE)

SANTA: STOP!

(EVERYONE STOPS. SANTA DEFIANTLY SHOWS HE'S NOT GETTING OFF COUCH—PERHAPS PLUMPING A PILLOW. MRS. CLAUS WAVES HER HAND. EVERYONE STARTS UP AGAIN AT ONCE, BUT LOUDER)

SANTA: STOP!

(EVERYONE STOPS. SANTA AGAIN DEFIANTLY SHOWS HE'S NOT GETTING OFF COUCH—PERHAPS CLICKING THE REMOTE. MRS. CLAUS WAVES HER HAND. EVERYONE STARTS UP. LOUDER)

RUDOLPH: STOP!

(EVERYONE STOPS. RUDOLPH MOVES CENTER AND SINGS)

RUDOLPH: Rudolph the new-nose reindeer
has a very princely nose
and now that you can't ignore it,
you're inspired to write beautiful prose
All of the other reindeer are jealous
and they love to call him names...

SANTA: (GETS OFF COUCH) OKAY! OKAY! OKAY! I'll get you a hot tub. Only if I can have the sleigh.

MRS. CLAUS: The hot tub, two years of hassle-free Psychic Hotline, and that new thing on TV that takes inches of your thighs in just minutes a month.

***THIS IS APPROXIMATELY 3/4's OF THE WAY THROUGH THE PLAY.***

The Deal

The royalty for a .pdf copy of Couch Potato Santa licensed for performance and classroom use is $25.00 (USD), which includes:

  • 8 1/2 x 11 script (.pdf) You make copies for your cast and crew. No booklet costs!
  • 1st performance . Extra performances are $5.00 each.
  • Classroom license for reading and education.
  • Questions and Tips For the Actors.
  • Scripts sent free by email: By the end of the next business day (Mon-Fri), you'll receive an email with your script package attached (.pdf), followed by a backup email with a download link. Often, I get scripts out the same day, so check your email. If you don't receive it within the promised time, please contact me right away.
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     2. No refunds. All orders are final. Please make sure you read the script sample and synopsis carefully before ordering. This policy is in place for copyright protection.

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