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Christmas Dragnet


Christmas Dragnet

    (This copy of Stan Freberg's Christmas Dragnet was taken from "THE 24 SOURS OF CHRISTMAS '95" Part 5)


    Narrator: The story you are about to see is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. For example, "Kris Kringle" is now "Santa Claus".

    Joe: This is the city: Los Angeles, California. The city sidewalks were busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style, and, in the air, there was a feeling of Christmas. There was no snow to crunch, but the kids were definitely bunching. They were watching out, not crying of pouting. They knew why. The last thing on anybody's mind was being picked up on a 4096325-096704, "Not Believing in Santa Claus". That's where I come in. I'm a policeman. I wear a badge.


    It was Wednesday, December the twenty-fourth, Christmas Eve, 4:35pm. I was working the Holiday watch out of Homicide with my partner. 'Twas the night before Christmas and, all through the house, the only things stirring were me at my paperwork, my partner at his typewriter, the chief arguing about working on a holiday...and a mouse. The chief is Captain Kellogg. My partner is Frank Jones. My name's Friday.

    Frank: Hang up your stocking yet, Joe?

    Joe: Yeah, just before I come down. You, too, Frank? 

    Frank: Always do. Hung it up early in case I have to work late tonight. Wouldn't want to miss out when Santa Claus comes, y'know. 

    Joe: No, sure wouldn't. Be a shame. 

    Frank: What'cha gonna do tomorrow, Joe? What'cha gonna do on Christmas? Got any plans? 

    Joe: Nothing much. 

    Frank: Why don't you stop by the house, Joe? We're gonna have Christmas dinner. Y'know, all the trimmings. 

    Joe: Um-hum. Frank: Turkey, celery stiffing, oysters maybe, chestnuts... 

    Joe: Um-hum. 

    Frank: All the trimmings. Cranberry ta have ya. 

    Joe: Um-hum. 

    Frank: The misuses always fixes a plate of relish with them little carrot sticks. Y'know, olives, pickles, scallions...most folks call 'em "green onions" , but they're really scallions. Have you ever noticed that, Joe? 

    Joe: Ever noticed what, Frank? 

    Frank: How most folks call 'em "Green onions", but they're really scallions. 

    Joe: Um-hum. Scallions. 

    Frank: Any time after two, Joe. Love ta have ya. 

    Joe: Um-hum. Well, I'll see. 

    Frank: Love ta have ya. 

    Joe: Um-hum. Well, I'll see. 

    Frank: The misuses always fixes a plate of relish with them carrot sticks. Y'know, them little carrot sticks? 

    Joe: Um-hum. 

    Frank: Olives, pickles, scallions... 

    Joe: Um-hum. Let's not go through that again. 

    Frank: Love ta have ya. Go through what again, Joe? 

    Joe: How most folks call 'em "Green onions", but they're really scallions. 

    Frank: Oh, noticed that, too, huh, Joe? (Phone rings) 

    Joe: (answering) Homicide, Friday. Um-hum. Um-hum. Um-hum. Um-hum. Um-hum. Umm-humm. (hangs up) 

    Frank: What's the matter, Joe? What's the MATTER, Joe?!? Joe: They're bringing a guy in on a 4096325-096704! Frank: (shocked) You-you mean... 

    Joe: Yeah,...guy don't believe in scallions...I mean, Santa Claus


    Joe: (narrating) 6:29pm. We questioned the guy who didn't believe in Santa Claus...a guy named "Grudge". (in story) Says here your name's "Grudge", is that right? 

    Grudge: Yeah! 

    Joe: Said you didn't believe in Santa Claus?

    Frank: It's hard to believe what you said! Did you really say that? 

    Grudge: Sure I said it! How do you know there's a Santy Claus? You gotta picture of 'em? 

    Joe: No, no mugshot. 

    Grudge: Any fingerprints? 

    Joe: No, no leaving prints. I just know, that's all. It's like saying there isn't an Easter Bunny. 

    Grudge: That's ANOTHER guy there ain't no of! 

    Joe: Um-hum. Watch your story, Mister!

    Frank: Joe, he just said that to make me fell bad, didn't he? There really IS an Easter Bunny, isn't there? Joe?

    Joe: Listen, Grudge, didn't I pick you three years ago on a "1492", for not believing in Columbus? 

    Grudge: Yeah! I don't believe in Cleveland or Cincinnati, either! 

    Joe: How about Toledo? 

    Grudge: I...I ain't made up my mind yet about Toledo. 

    Joe: OK, Mister, I get the picture now. You don't believe in nothin', do ya? 

    Grudge: Nuttin'. And do you wanna know somethin' else? 

    Joe: What's that? 

    Grudge: I'm gonna get up and I'm gonna walk right out of this room. 'Cause you guys ain't got nothin' on me. They ain't no law against not believing in Santy Claus! 

    Joe: There is in my book! Let me tell you something, Mister, I'm gonna PROVE there's a Santa Claus if it takes me all night! 

    Grudge: Heh-heh! Pretty funny! The police department's got nuttin' else to do! 

    Joe: Let me straighten you out, buddy; this one's on Frank and me! Right, Frank? Right, Frank?!? 

    Frank: There really IS an Easter Bunny, isn't there, Joe? Y'know, "hippity- hopping down the bunny trail"?!?


    Joe: (narrating) I took Grudge over to the helicopter, got in, flew around the city for hours...


    I showed him department stores...(in story) What's hurrying in and out of those department stores, Grudge? 

    Grudge: Happy people! But _I_ ain't impressed!


    Joe: (narrating) I showed him stockings...(in story) How are those stockings hung, Grudge? 

    Grudge: By the chimney, with care, but _I_ didn't hang none up!!!


    Joe: (narrating) I showed him children, nestled, all snug in their beds... (in story) What's dancing in their heads, Grudge?!? 

    Grudge: (sarcastically) Visions of sugar plums! But you ain't sellin' me! THERE AIN'T NO SANTY CLAUS!!!


    Joe: (narrating) He still didn't believe! There was only one thing left to do. My job: get to the North Pole.


    11:45pm. We arrive at the North Pole. I set the plane down and we walked over to Santa's Workshop and rang the bell...

    (Doorbell: DIIIIING-DA-DING-DING. Door opens)

    Joe: (in story) Pardon me, sir. Can I ask you a few questions? 

    Brownie: Why, shore. Just tickle me 't de-yath. 

    Joe: What do you do for a living? 

    Brownie: I'm a brownie. 

    Joe: What are you doing at the North Pole with a _southern_ accent? 

    Brownie: Well, the bo-us sorta ran shore-et on hey-lp this ye-ah, so had 't ree-cruit a few of us brownies from the Sow-uth Po-el. 

    Joe: Um hum. That figures. 

    Grudge: Heh-heh! Whatta waste of time!

    Joe: Could we talk to your boss, please?

    Brownie: Oh, he's ow-et. You WOULD come on the one night he's ow-et in the whole ye-ah! 

    Joe: Um hum. What's your particular job, Mr. Brownie? 

    Brownie: My bo-us has eight tiny reinde-ya. My job: feed 'em. 

    Joe: Hmm, yes, sir, what do you feed them?

    Brownie: Well, most times, I fix up a little plate o' relish, olive, pickles and carrot sticks. You knew them li'l 'ol carrot sticks? 

    Joe: Um hum. 

    Brownie: And scallions. (Joe chimes in with the next sentence) Most folks call 'em "green onions", but they're really scallions. (To Joe) How'd you know?!? Joe: Just a stab in the dark.


    Joe: (narrating) The little man showed us through the workshop... 

    Brownie: My bo-us'll be back for his second load purty soon. Say, would y'all like 't hear an inerestin' story? 

    Joe: Yes, sir. 

    Brownie: Well, you see that HUGE pile of presents for the-ya? 

    Joe: Um hum. Grudge: Man! LOOK at all that stuff! 

    Brownie: Would you believe it; they're all for the same ma-yan. Been pilin' up he-ya ye-ah afta ye-ah. 

    Joe: Why didn't the guy after get 'em?

    Grudge: Yeah, why? 

    Brownie: 'Cause he didn't believe in my bo-us. You know the ru-els. 

    Joe: Um hum. We know. 

    Grudge: I, uh, don't suppose there's no chance that this...this guy can still... 

    Brownie: Get the presents? Oh, shore. He gets 'em all, the MINUTE he believes! But I don't suppose he ev-a wi-ell.

    Joe: Too bad about that guy. What's his name? 

    Grudge: Don't say it. I don't wanna hear it! 

    Joe: Come on, Mr. Brownie, what's his name?

    Brownie: His name? "Grudge".


    Joe: (narrating) The brownie saw us to the door and wished us a Merry Christmas. We were headed back to the plane. Then it happened... 

    Grudge: Hey! 

    Joe: (in story) Yeah, Grudge? 

    Grudge: You know that guy I said I didn't believe in? 

    Joe: Who's that? 

    Grudge: S-s-s-santy Claus? 

    Joe: Yes, sir? 

    Grudge: Do you think I'm too old to change my mind? 

    Joe: You're NEVER too old, Mr. Grudge.

    Grudge: Well, then, I...I...I BELIEVE IN SANTY CLAUS! AND Columbus! 

    Joe: How about Cleveland, Cincinnati and the Easter Bunny? 

    Grudge: Yeah! Them, too! 

    Joe: And Toledo? 

    Grudge: I...I _still_ ain't made up my mind yet about Toledo! (sleigh bells above) 

    Joe: Look, Grudge, up in the sky. He's coming back for his second load. 


    Joe: There's the only guy I know who can make every body happy in one night! 

    Grudge: Yeah! He must have the biggest heart in the whole world! 

    Joe: That's about the size of it!


    Narrator: The story you have just seen is real. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

    Upon arrival back in Los Angeles, Grudge went home immediately and hung his stocking up. In the morning, he received all of his back-log of presents. He thanked Sergeant Friday and vowed to keep the Christmas spirit in his heart forevermore.

    The brownie was returned to the South Pole on December the twenty- sixth, but was asked to return the following August the fifteenth due to a Pole-wide brownie strike.

    Detective Frank Jones was convinced, after a lot of talking, that there WAS an Easter Bunny. He was returned home to his wife, who revived him with green onions...or were they scallions?

    "Not Believing in Santa Claus" is punishable by a term of no less than five nor more than fifty years of not receiving presents.