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The 12 Blogs of Christmas: Eight. Clockwork Storybook at Christmas.
The great news this morning is that in the Geek Syndicate's charity auction in aid of the family of recently deceased podcaster Eric Martin, some generous comic fan paid £104.00 for my Captain Britain-related item. I'll be personalising said item and getting it to them as soon as possible, with many thanks and much applause.
And now to business. Clockwork Storybook is a writers' collective that's been going since the 1990s, started by Mark Finn, Chris Roberson, Matt Sturges and Bill Willingham. They've since expanded, with Mark Andreyko, Daryl Gregory, Marjorie Liu, Jess Nevins, Bill Williams, and, since earlier this year, myself, also being members. A few weeks ago, I suggested that we collaborate on something for the 12 Blogs, and was greatly pleased at the enthusiasm showed. Everyone below has written their own dialogue, apart from Jess, who's my sock puppet here.
And good morning to Laurie Pink...
And now to business. Clockwork Storybook is a writers' collective that's been going since the 1990s, started by Mark Finn, Chris Roberson, Matt Sturges and Bill Willingham. They've since expanded, with Mark Andreyko, Daryl Gregory, Marjorie Liu, Jess Nevins, Bill Williams, and, since earlier this year, myself, also being members. A few weeks ago, I suggested that we collaborate on something for the 12 Blogs, and was greatly pleased at the enthusiasm showed. Everyone below has written their own dialogue, apart from Jess, who's my sock puppet here.
So here we go...
Main Titles: stars swirl around a snowy sky, sending trails of glitter tumbling down, as the most 1960s of 1960s announcers says...
Announcer: Gentle and non-threatening as can be, it's -
The Clockwork Storybook Christmas Special!
(Canned audience applause.)
Announcer: Let us take you now to a cabin, deep in the woods. No, it's all right, I mean metaphorically. And nervously pacing there, seized by social awkwardness like almost always, here's our host, in a chunky, colourful pullover and slacks, Paul Cornell.
(Paul acknowledges the applause of the non-existent audience, considerably upstaged by his pullover.)
Paul: Well, the fire's been banked high, though obviously not high enough to present any sort of danger, the presents have been wrapped, the goose is in the oven. But... where are all my guests?
(The door bell rings.)
Paul: Oh, thank goodness. I wonder who that could be?
(He goes to the door and opens it. In marches Bill Willingham, in an enormous fur coat and flying helmet.)
Paul: Why, it's Bill Willingham!
(Applause. Bill swats it aside.)
Paul: So, where have you travelled in from tonight, Bill?
Bill: I've just arrived from the twenty below zero, snow-strewn wilds of Minnesota, where the cold and clammy conditions you have here would be called balmy weather. We've only two seasons in Minnesota: winter and bad sledding.
(A high pitched animal call comes from outside.)
Paul: How did you, erm, get here, exactly?
Bill: Flying sled, of course. I like to keep things traditional. I've got a long-standing deal with the jolly old fat guy. Every time he upgrades, he sells me the old model. He's flying a Boeing Wonderwagon Mark II now, so I got his old Lockheed Strato Blazer. Would you like to meet my eight petite reindeer?
Paul: Erm, kind of.
(Bill gives a high, ululating cry, and a team of small reindeer fly in.)
Bill: This is Emma and Tiffany and Isabella and Lori. And there's Madison, Ava, Sophia and Glory.
Paul: And that last one?
Bill: Oh, Amber with her nose so bright? She's not one of the crew, Paul, she's just along to warm my sleigh tonight. We tippled a bit too much toddy over Iceland and, well, anyway, I'm thrilled to be here. The trick is to make sure I arrived before Williams, Roberson, Finn and Sturges. They plough throw the goodies faster than... well, they aren't called the Four Christmas Plagues for nothing.
Off: Did someone say goodies?
(Enter Mark and the other Bill, to applause, Mark in a leopard print Santa's hat.)
Paul: It's Mark Finn and Bill Williams! All the way from Texas!
Mark: Where it's so cold the flagpoles have all retracted into the ground. Of course, in Texas, we don't fly with deer. We shoot and eat them!
(The reindeer scream and fly off into the kitchen.)
Mark: So I strapped the old Pontiac Vibe up to a team of Longhorns. I brought some beer. As you know, most commercial American beers are like making love in a canoe -
Paul: Frowned on while taking part in the Olympics?
Mark: ****ing close to water. This here's the exception: an old-fashioned Dunkelweizen, Shiner Bock's Christmas beer, brewed in Texas, and a favourite amongst the Clockwork Storybook gang.
Paul: Well, that's the sponsors happy, anyway.
Bill Wms: I do webcomics and give away my best work, so I had to catch a ride. Mark has a mean streak, though. He threatened to lose my luggage if I didn't help out on his big Christmas number.
Paul: Oh good, I was hoping we'd be getting together for a little sing-song later.
(Mostly applause, but some worried muttering from the canned audience.)
Bill Wms: Can I get an Old Fashioned and the head of a gingerbread man?
(A torrent of snow bursts through the doorway, and in stumbles, to vast applause -)
Paul: Daryl Gregory, ladies and gentlemen!
Daryl: Hiya, Paul! I just flew in from my home in Pennsylvania, on Amish Airlines. It took forever, but they look to be doing good business: my flight was packed with steampunks. I've never seen that many goggles. Hey, have you got a boar's head?
Paul: It has been said.
Daryl: And figgy pudding! You Brits still eat that stuff, right? Bring me some figgy pudding!
Paul: I'm not even entirely sure what that is. But if you won't go until you get some -
Daryl: I won't go until I get some.
Paul: Then I'll send Cook out to the shops immediately.
Daryl: Thanks. I think.
(There comes a great kerfuffle from the chimney. With a puff of soot, Chris drops into the fireplace, and leaps to his feet, to applause.)
Paul: It's Chris Roberson, everybody!
Chris: Oh, Paul Cornell! I thought this was the Paul Anka Christmas Special. I was wondering why he was in England. I don't suppose Zsa Zsa Gabor is here? What about Eva? Magda, even?
Paul: You didn't read the invite all that closely, did you?
Chris: Since you ask, this fetching blue sweater I'm wearing is actually a Muppet pullover. It wasn't cheap, let me tell you. Do you have any idea how many Muppets it takes to make a sweater this size? (Rides the canned laughter for a moment.) Hey, how do you catch a polar bear? I think it has something to do with frozen peas and an icehole... and while I never really understood the punchline, I'm assured that it's really quite amusing.
Paul: Would you like a drink, Chris? Another one?
Chris: I'll take a caipirinha. The national drink of Brazil. If anyone knows how to do 'festive', it's-
(There comes a great yelling and the sound of reindeer squealing from the kitchen.)
Bill: Amber?! Amber, are you all right?!
(Enter, from the inside door, Marjorie, furious.)
Paul: It's Marjorie Liu!
Marjorie: Never mind that! Those so-called 'petite reindeer' are not so tiny when they're biting! See this sweater?! You think I gnawed these holes in it myself?!
Paul: Well, it's not beyond the bounds of -
Marjorie: These holes used to be poodles! Poodles, man! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find Christmas sweaters embroidered with poodles?!
Paul: Well -
Marjorie: Do you?!
(Willingham is seen sneaking off into the kitchen.)
Paul: Is there, erm, anything I can get you?
Marjorie: Arsenic! Also, cookies.
Off: Did somebody say cookies?
(Enter Matt and Jess, looking round the front door.)
Paul: Thank goodness! I mean, hello! It's Matt Sturges and Jess Nevins!
Matt: Sorry we're so late. We got lost on the way. They don't tell you this, but way out in mid-Atlantic, everything looks pretty much the same and there aren't any signs.*
Jess: *Exactly none, in fact.
Matt: Jess is going to be annotating the evening. I hope that's okay?
Paul: I never believe in antagonising the archivists -
Matt: I've brought some Newcastle Brown Ale. We can call that a Christmas beer, can't we?*
Jess: *No.
Paul: But in this case -
Marjorie: Apparently, I was meant to don a tutu and float across the room like some prima ballerina, but the only high kick this group is going to see is when my inner ninja takes care of those sharp-toothed, poodle-abusing -
Paul: Why, do you intend to speed off into the night so soon?
Marjorie: Was that a hint?
Paul: -
Marjorie: Smart man. Where are those cookies? I get in a bad mood when I'm hungry.
Chris: Why, you must be starving.
Marjorie: What's that supposed to mean?!
Paul: Do you, erm, have a letter to Santa, Marjorie? What does it say?
Marjorie: It's private. You ask a lot of questions, you know that?
Matt: I've got one.
(He finds the letter and reads it aloud.)
Matt: 'Dear Santa. I'm not saying you did it, and I'm not saying you didn't, but last year on Christmas morning there was about sixty bucks missing from my wallet. It was there when I went to bed, and it wasn't there when I woke up. I know my wife didn't take it, because she was lying right next to me, and my kids wouldn't even know what to do with that kind of money.
I realize that last year was the beginning of the big economic downturn, and we were all pretty worried about our finances. God knows, your business model seems precarious at best, and at worst...well, let's be honest: how the hell are you not bankrupt? Did you get some of that TARP money?
So anyway, what I'm saying is, if you did take the sixty bucks, I get it. We all have our moments of weakness. And if, on Christmas morning this year, I awake to find a wad of fives under my pillow, then I'll let the whole thing drop. If, however, you choose to ignore this, my third communication on this subject, then I'll have no choice but to take more extreme measures. Is that a bear trap on the roof, you ask? Perish the thought. Put out of your mind the idea of how much flying deer meat might go for on the black market -'
Marjorie: I can get you figures on that.*
Jess: *So can I.
Matt: Ahem. 'Understand that I'm not threatening here; I'm not being, as you would put it, "naughty." I just want my sixty dollars back. You fat, thieving bastard. Oh, and may I please have a sled? I've been very good this year. Matt.'
(Applause.)
Bill Wms: My behaviour wasn't in the nice column this year. I've asked him to hold off sending me a lump of coal. I can't afford the carbon tax.
Paul: Actually, Jess, I think there's someone who lives here you might like to meet. Hey, Scale Guy!
(Scale Guy from last year's 12 Blogs enters, to wild applause.)
Paul: Scale Guy's whole existence is about demonstrating relative size.
Jess: He's kind of tiny, isn't he?
Scale Guy: My work here is done.
(He exits, to wild applause. Willingham pops his head back out of the kitchen.)
Bill: Did someone say rude lesbian nurses?
Paul: Nobody really gets that. When I say 'rude', they're kind of... abusive.
Bill: Still interested.
Paul: Ahem. (Sees that Daryl is directing the servants to bring in a large number of cases.) Daryl, what have you got there?
Daryl: It's the entire print run of my new book: The Devil's Alphabet. I carry 'em wherever I go. Bookstores are the old economy! Today it's all about the entrepreneur and personal relationships. How many copies can I sign you up for? Two thousand? Three?
Paul: I read the electronic version. In a dream.
Chris: Are you sure there aren't any Gabors lurking about? What about Charo? Heck, I'd even settle for Paul Lynde.
Paul: I really hope that means something to Americans. Under fifty.
Marjorie: Is this the bit where we promote stuff?
Paul: We're all freelancers. It's been hard to hold it off this long.
Marjorie: I want to promote the complete eradication of rude reindeer. Even if Bill has dressed up in that tutu to accompany my ballet number.
Bill: Ballet number? Oh, right, yeah, ballet number!
Marjorie: I've also got several short stories coming out, in the anthologies Inked and With Great Power -
Paul: Hey, I'm in that too!
Marjorie: Whatever. Also, two novels: The Stars Below and A Wild Light, from my Dirk and Steele and Hunter Kiss series, respectively.
Paul: That's -
Marjorie: Also comic books. Some of which I can't talk about yet.
Paul: Me too!
Marjorie: Whatever.
Bill Wms: I'm still writing the back-ups in the Angel series. In the Spring, a new Whedonverse mini. And maybe a new webcomic.
Chris: The first few issues of Cinderella: From Fabletown With Love would make great stocking stuffers. But next Christmas, everyone on your holiday shopping list will definitely thank you for sending them a lifetime subscription to I, Zombie, out in May from Vertigo. Mike Allred and I would thank you too.
Bill: I'd like to thank those Fables readers, and remind them that my Fables prose novel, Peter and Max, is out now, just in time for Christmas.
Paul: I've asked my wife to get me it.
Daryl: Would that be the electronic version?
Paul: Erm, would anyone else like to -?
Matt: I've just completed work on my second novel, The Office of Shadow, which is a sequel of sorts to my first book, Midwinter. It'll be out in June.
Mark: I'm planning on finishing two novels next year. And I keep plodding around some comics work. Of course, the hard sell will be my Golden Age Boxer Fantasy. But I have faith that it will find an audience!
Jess: I'll have my Encyclopedias of Pulp Heroes and Golden Age Superheroes coming out.*
Paul: *And a supplement to the Spirit of the Century role playing game.
Jess: Hey, quit doing that!
Paul: Now, assuming we're not doing the ballet... did anyone bring a song?
(The audience murmur, worried.)
Bill: Okay, if you insist. I’m no composer, so I wrote new holiday lyrics to a beloved older tune: Billy Joel’s 'She’s Always a Woman to Me.' My version is a Christmas love song to The Grinch.
Paul: The Grinch. The fiend who stole Christmas?
Bill: Yeah. Sure the Grinch thieves and loots and generally spoils things for everyone else, but we’ve always gotten along. He introduced me to Amber in fact, on our monthly double date night.
Paul: Okay, then. Ladies and gentlemen, the vocal talents of Bill Willingham!
Bill (singing):
He can steal with a smile
He’s got comic-villain eyes
He’s a master of insidious, criminal lies
How can someone so undeniably evil roam free?
And he looks like a troll
But he’s always a Santa to me.
He will break in your house
And eat all of your candy
He will drink all your booze
And think it’s just dandy
And he’ll take every present from under your tree
Yeah he swipes all your gifts
But he’s always a Santa to me.
(Chorus)
Oh, he just thinks of himself
He just takes what he wants
He’s a cad all the time.
Oh, and he never gives up
And he shows no one mercy
When he’s planning his crimes.
His heart’s made of stone
And his soul’s filled with greed
He won’t shed a tear
While your holiday bleeds
And he’ll always surprise you with how bad he can be
He’s a plague, he’s a cancer
But he’s always a Santa to me.
(Another slightly different chorus)
Oh, he’s got sharp yellow fangs
And long deadly claws
He’s got green ugly skin.
Oh, he’s got cankers and warts
He slithers and skulks
He’s constructed of sin.
Your Christmas is cancelled
He’s taken your stuff
Even the coal from naughty kids
He can’t get enough
No one can stop him on his mad, terror spree
And the worst he will do
Is fill your stockings with poo
But he’s always a Santa to me.
(Applause.)
Paul: Well, that was certainly... something.
Mark: You know, Paul, I’m a big fan of the Ratpack, and especially the Chairman of the Board. Now, over the years, he sang a lot of Christmas songs, but there’s one song he never sang, and I’d like to do this one, now, for him, in the inimitable Ratpack fashion:
(Cue 'Santa Baby,' swinging and jazzy.)
Mark (singing):
Santa baby, slip a chippy under the tree, for me.
I've been an awful good guy,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
Santa baby, 63 convertible too, dark blue.
I'll wait up for you pal,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
Think of all the fun I've missed,
Think of all the girlies that I haven't kissed,
Next year I could be oh, so good,
If you'd check off my Christmas list,
Doo doo doo doo.
Santa pally, I wanna yacht and really that's not a lot,
I've been an angel all year,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
Santa baby, there's one thing that I really do need, the deed.
to The Sands on the Strip,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
Santa baby, come fill my stocking with a Rolex, and checks.
Sign your 'X' on the line,
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
Come and trim my Christmas tree,
With some decorations bought at Tiffany's,
Ya know I do believe in you,
Let's see if you believe in me,
Boo doo bee doo!
Santa Boobie, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring.
(Speaking) You know, the kind you wear on your pinkie?
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight,
Hurry down the chimney tonight,
Hurry down the chimney tonight.
(Applause.)
Chris: I was going to quote extensively from the Gospel of Luke, clutching my security blanket, but I understand that bit has already been done elsewhere. Instead, I’ll try you to a little holiday jig. Pardon me a moment while I put on my dancing shoes and get my bells and stick straightened out…
Marjorie: Euw, I'm not looking!
Bill Wms: If only Scale Guy were still here...
Matt: I've got something. You bet I've got something! It's a one-man show, a commedia dell'arte, in which I play all the parts, especially the women. And while it is seven hours long, I think you'll find that the last four actually go by pretty quickly compared to the first three -
Paul: And that concludes our party pieces! So, did anyone bring any presents for their fellow Clockwork Storybook members?
Chris: Did someone say members?
Paul: Ahem.
Bill Wms: Let's see, I have one gorilla suit for a Mister Mark Finn. I got Bill Willingham a puppy. What do you mean he doesn't need another one...? (Staring into puppy eyes.) Well, I can't put you back in the bag. Go play with, Finn. He smells like hot dogs. I got Jess Nevins a sold gold nametag. With the liberal use of a bit of lead pipe on some suits in NYC, I got the Manhunter comics back on the publishing schedule for Marc Andreyko. And I got cases of Red Bull and espresso beans for Daryl Gregory, Marjorie Liu, Matthew Sturges and Chris Roberson so that we can see more of their work. And Paul, I got you a robot butler to clean up the place. Just remember not to set the switch to 'evil' before you plug it in.
Mark: Where's the can in here?
Paul: Upstairs. Don't disturb Laurie Pink. She's drawing tomorrow's cartoon.
(Mark exits.)
Chris: These aren’t presents, this is salvage. Finn set this gorilla suit down and walked off and now it belongs to me, I tell you! Me!
Mark (off): Is he touching my monkey? Don't touch my monkey!
Chris: Besides, what does Finn need with a gorilla suit, anyway? Talk about gilding the lily. And this gold name tag only looks like it says 'Jess Nevins' if you hold it upside down. Right way up it reads 'suineN sseF', which as everyone knows is 'Super Awesome' in Tolkien’s Elvish. All mine, I tell you!*
Jess: *Terms and conditions apply. Elvish not depicted accurately. Get your hands off my nametag.
Matt: I got everyone in Clockwork Storybook something. It's pens. Not the cheap crappy ones, but the nice heavy ones that come in a velvet-lined box and say something classy on them, like 'Have a very Clockwork Christmas'. Mine, unfortunately, do not say that. As a result of a mix-up at the printer, the pens I've got here say 'Good luck in rehab, Joey.' But they're still very nice pens.
Bill: For each of the new Clockwork members, including you, Paul, I have special gift baskets containing Peace and Goodwill, lavender-scented Tidings of Comfort and Joy, a potpourri of selected Christmas blessings, and a bath towel. Sorry about the screw-up in the monogram. I had them done overseas and there were some language issues.
Paul: And what do you have for the older Clockwork fellows?
Bill: Coal. One lump each.
Paul: Why ever would -?
Bill: I don’t want to talk about it. Suffice it to say you’ll learn a few things once you’ve been part of the group for a while.
Matt: Go on, sit down and write something with your new pens. Write a haiku. See how that feels? Have you ever composed a classier seventeen syllables, or felt so good doing it? I mean, who even reads the side of a pen, anyway?
Paul: Well, that's just about all we have time for. I'd like to thank all our guests -
Marjorie: You haven't asked me about the presents I brought.
Paul: Oh, right -
Marjorie: Keep your hands off them.
Paul: Ha ha! It's wonderful that you stayed in character all this time, Marjorie, but -
Marjorie: No, really. Don't touch. I know where you live now.
Paul: ... And a Merry Christmas to fellow Clockwork Storybooker Marc Andreyko, who got lost in the snow, and to all of you at home, and we'll see you throughout the year at Clockwork Storybook!
(Closing titles. Wild canned applause. Our cast look bemused at each other.)
Jess: *Next year, I get to the host this, okay?
Bill Wms: I'm so camping here. I intend to fall over later, okay? So when that happens it's called 'following the plan'.
(Closing titles. Wild canned applause. Our cast look bemused at each other.)
Jess: *Next year, I get to the host this, okay?
Bill Wms: I'm so camping here. I intend to fall over later, okay? So when that happens it's called 'following the plan'.
(Fade out.)
Phew. That went okay. Ish. Until tomorrow, when I'll be providing what people who come to my site via search queries with exactly what they were looking for, Cheerio!
Labels:
Bill Willingham,
Chris Roberson,
Clockwork Storybook,
Marjorie M. Liu,
Matt Sturges
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Arsenic, cookies, and lavendar scented tidings have combined elegantly to create the perfect festive moment - cheers
Great script and it really made me laugh. Its a shame that Morecambe and Wise aren't here to read this. You really should adapt this to either theatre or even better, television.
Thanks, all. It'd make a great podcast, but can you imagine the credits?
This was great fun, Paul, but I think I can do better in next year's show. I've already started working up a knife juggling act, and, barring a few false starts, I'm beginning to get pretty good at it.
Unfortunately, now I have to relearn to type with only nine fingers, but seriously, I'm starting to get good at this.
Also, Marjorie hit me in the Green Room.
Ladies and gentlemen, Paul Cornell - the Noel Edmonds of the new millenium...
*roar*
Bill: thanks, and I'm sorry to hear that, that's one of the worst places to be hit. Lee: Hmm.