Note: The following script, all seventy-two pages of it, 
was found discarded in a Site-19 cafeteria trash can. 


Additional Note: Please remember that Site-19 printer 
ink is designated for Foundation work ONLY. 


Story by 


Charles Dickens 


Adapted for the Stage by 
djkaktus 


CAST OF CHARACTERS 


Jack Bright 
Django Bridge 
Ralph Roget 
Everett Mann 
Sophia Light 
Rose Labelle 
Child Jack Bright 
Young Jack Bright 
Alto Clef 
Agatha Rights 
Timothy Burns 
Tilda Moose 
Tiny Zyn 
Fritz Bridge 
Chelsea Elliott 


Pixel Alexandra 
Dmitri Strelnikov 
Jacob Conwell 
Dietrich Lurk 
Dr. McTiriss 
Dr. Rosen 
Dr. Silver 
Director Toph 
Director Flux 
Kestrel 
Vulture 
Falcon 
The Little Street Heiden 
Ghost of Christmas Past 
Ghost of Christmas Present 
Ghost of Christmas Future 
Narrator 1 
Narrator 2 
Narrator 3 
Narrator 4 
Narrator 5 
Boy Singer 
Lampman 
Carolers/Singers/Dancers/Actors 


Act I 


Mann's Ghost 


A single pair of footsteps is heard crunching through the 
snow. Suddenly, there are many more footsteps, all in unison, 
some walking, some running. In the background, figures can 
be seen running to and fro, until all emerge as one around a 


lone figure lying in the snow, face down. The footsteps stop 
suddenly. 


One boy steps out from the group and begins to sing. 


Boy: 


GOD REST YE MERRY GENTLEMEN 

LET NOTHING YOU DISMAY. 

REMEMBER CHRIST, OUR SAVIOR, 

WAS BORN ON CHRISTMAS DAY 

TO SAVE US ALL FROM SATAN’S POWER 

WHEN WE HAVE GONE ASTRAY. 

OH, TIDINGS OF COMFORT AND JOY, COMFORT AND 
JOY, 

OH, TIDINGS OF COMFORT AND JOY. 


Two additional figures step out from the group. 


Narrator 1: Mann was dead to begin with. Everett Mann was 
as dead as a very dead... man. 


Boy continues to sing. 
Boy: 


GOD REST YE MERRY GENTLEMEN 
LET NOTHING YOU DISMAY ... 


Narrator 2: There is no doubt that Mann was dead. This must 
be very clearly understood, or nothing even remotely useful 
can come from this story. 


All actors join in singing. 
All: 


TO SAVE US ALL FROM SATAN’S POWER 

WHEN WE HAVE GONE ASTRAY. 

OH, TIDINGS OF COMFORT AND JOY, COMFORT AND 
JOY, 

OH, TIDINGS OF COMFORT AND JOY. 


JACK BRIGHT (MONKEY) enters. HE paces across the 
stage, itching his butt and grunting absent mindedly. 
Occasionally, he grows close to the edge of the stage and 
screams a monkey-scream at the audience. HE eventually 


approaches his desk, sits, and begins to shuffle through a 
mound of paperwork. 


Narrator 1: Now, Bright was his sole executor, his sole 
superior, his sole friend and his sole mourner, in his own 
bizarre monkey-analogue way. 


Narrator 3: He was, in short, a tight-fisted... 
Bright: (Monkey screams) 


ACTORS scuttle away from BRIGHT and huddle in the 
corner. BRIGHT returns to his paperwork, snorting and 
growling. 


Narrator 4: ...overworked... 

Narrator 5: ...understaffed... 

Narrator 1: ...long past his expiration date... 
Narrator 2: ...scraping... 

Narrator 3: ...clutching... 

Narrator 4: ...bastard of a site director! 
Narrator 2: Literally dead inside. 


Narrator 3: If he was able to feel the cold through the warmth 
of his monkey fur, he did not show it. 


Narrator 4: Even as frost formed on his beady little eyes... 


Narrator 5: ...and snow caked on him like a whipped topping 
on monkey-cake... 


ALL: ...he shed not a single tear! 
Bright: BAH! FUCK OFF. 


Narrator 1: He kept the office temperature at near subzero 
temperatures. Of course, he couldn't feel the chill underneath 


is unknown if the subjects used as "Nests" were transported to the 
basement by SCP-775, the remaining family members, or expired 
there naturally. Evidence from [DATA EXPUNGED] be destroyed; 
however, records will be kept for secured reference. 


« SCP-774 | SCP-775 | SCP-776 » 


his thick layer of ape-hair, but he didn't much care one way or 
another if his office mates did. His office was frigid in the 
summer, and not a degree warmer in the winter. 


Narrator 2: Once upon a time - of all good days of the year, 
on Christmas Eve, old Jack Bright sat busy at his desk at 
Site-19. (Bright scratches on a pad of paper hurriedly with a 
pen) Bright had a space heater near his desk, but due to 
budgetary concerns, the one afforded to his assistant, Dr. 
Django Bridge, was so much smaller that the doctor was 
forced to warm each finger individually before returning to his 
work. 


DJANGO BRIDGE is revealed at his comically small desk. A 
Canadian flag is seen protruding from it with no explanation. 


Bridge: (7o audience) Bu-but Django Bridge, the studious 
and dedicated assistant, couldn't find room in the budget for a 
slightly larger space heater, and tried to warm himself by the 
dim screen of a dying cell phone; but not being a man of 
strong imagination, he failed. (Shivers) 


BRIDGE turns back to his work. BRIGHT'S nephew RALPH 
ROGET enters. 


Roget: A merry Christmas to you, Uncle Bright! God bless 
you! 


Bright: (Monkey screams) THERE IS NO GOD (Monkey 
screams) FUCK YOU. 


Roget: Fuck me? On Christmas? Truly you don't mean that, 
I'm sure? 


Bright: | do! Merry fucking Christmas. What right do you have 
to be merry about anything? You don't have a job, you don't 
have money! 


Roget: Then what right do you have to be so dismal, uncle? 
You do have a job, and do have plenty of money. 


Bright: Oh fuck off with that Ralph. What's Christmas to you 


but a time to be paying bills and buying gifts with money you 
don't have, and spending time with your family away from a 
job you also don't have. If | had it my way, every son of a bitch 
who walks around here talking all this "Merry Christmas" shit 
would literally be stuffed in his own goddamn turkey and fed 
to the Lizard. 


Roget: Uncle! 


Bright: (Mockingly) Nephew! Do whatever you want with your 
Christmas, and let me do whatever | want with mine. 


Roget: Do what you want? But you don't do anything! 
Bright: Let me fuck it right out, then. 


Roget: I've always thought of Christmas as a good time, a 
happy, drunken, blacked-out-on-holiday-wine kind of time. It's 
the only time of year where men and women seem to open 
their shut up hearts - and legs - freely! God bless it! 


BRIDGE breaks into applause. He wipes a single tear from 
his face. 


Narrator 1: Django Bridge had involuntarily applauded, a 
privilege afforded to exactly zero people under Bright's 
employ and, realizing this, he turned back to poke at his tiny 
space heater which, due in no small part to the uncaring 
nature of the universe, shorted and died. 


Bright: Let me hear another fucking sound out of you, Bridge, 
and I'll rip a hole in your ass big enough to stick my head into 
and make sure every gaping inch of it is fired before the end 
of the afternoon. (To ROGET.) You've got a silk tongue, boy. 
Wonder why you don't apply for upper management. 


Roget: Don't be angry, Uncle Bright! Come on now, dine with 
us tomorrow! We're going out for pad thai! 


Bright: I'd rather be cooked with the pad thai. 


Roget: But why, Uncle? 


Bright: Why? Why in the hell did you get married? 
Roget: Well, because | fell in love! 
Bright: (Mockingly) Because you fell in love. 


Narrator 2: Bright barked out the word "love" like it was the 
only thing in the world more ridiculous than "Merry 
Christmas". 


Roget: Aw, come on, Bright. You never came to visit with me 
before, why give this reason now all of a sudden? 


Bright: Get out of my office. 


Roget: I've only ever just wanted to be your friend, Uncle 
Bright. 


Bright: Get out... of my office. 


Roget: I'm so sorry you feel the way you do, but I'll Keep my 
high spirits! So Merry Christmas to you, Uncle! 


ROGET opens the door. 
Bright: | said get the fuck out of my Office. 
ROGET exits, laughing. 


Narrator 3: When Ralph Roget went out, two other men came 
in. 


MANNA CHARITABLE FELLOW 17 knocks on the door. The 
door swings open, and two men enter. 


Narrator 2: They were slender gentlemen, cheeks rosy from 
the outside chill and faces full of goodwill, and now stood 
before the chimp-director of Site-19. 


Manna Charitable Fellow 1: (To BRIDGE) Ah, Site-19, is it? 
Directors Bright and Mann? Do | have the pleasure of 
speaking to Dr. Bright, or Dr. Mann? 


BRIDGE points to BRIGHT. 


Bright: Mann has been dead for seven years. Died seven 
years ago, this very night. Probably the cocaine, frankly. 


Manna Charitable Fellow 2: |'m very sorry to hear, Dr. 
Bright. But... at this most festive and joyful time of year, it is 
customary and fine to extend the soft and warm hand of 
generosity towards though less fortunate than we, those who 
suffer greatly. 


Bright: (/dly, to DJANGO) Are we at capacity for D-Class? 


All ACTORS, who are standing all around the stage, moan 
openly. The MANNA CHARITABLE FELLOWS exchange a 
nervous glance. 


ALL: Ooh. 


Bridge: Uh, oh... um... well, no sir, we could always use 
more... 


Bright: And our amnestics? Do they still operate properly? 
ACTORS moan a little louder. 
ALL: Oooooh! 


Manna Charitable Fellow 1: They do, though | wish | could 
say they were unnecessary, bec— 


Bright: | support rounding up the unfortunate for testing, and 
erasing the memories of those whose lives we devastate in 
pursuit of our goal. If the poor truly need assistance badly 
enough, they can seek refuge there. 


The loudest moan yet. 
ALL: OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH! 


Narrator 2: Oh goddammit, Bright. 


Manna Charitable Fellow 1: Testing or amnestics? Many 
would rather die. 


Bright: If they would rather die, then by all means, have at it. 
Fewer people for us to protect. Now, good afternoon, 
gentlemen. 


Narrator 3: Sensing that it would be useless and potentially 
hazardous to poke the ape any further, the Manna Charitable 
Fellows withdrew. 


They exit. All ACTORS watch them as they leave. BRIDGE 
reaches a hand out briefly, but retracts and withers under the 
stare of BRIGHT. 


Narrator 1: After some time passed, it was quitting time at 
Site-19. Django Bridge quickly gathered his things into his bag 
and grabbed his thin coat. 


Bright: | suppose you'll want the entire day tomorrow, then? 
Bridge: If you wouldn't mind, Dr. Bright. 
Bright: | absolutely mind. 


Bridge: (Jo the audience.) Django observed to the doctor that 
it was only once a year. 


Bright: A shitty excuse for wasting valuable department 
money every twenty-fifth of December, Bridge. But | suppose 
you'll need to take the whole day. Be here all the earlier the 
day after, then. 


Narrator 2: The assistant promised he would, and Bright 
walked out with a grunt and a growl. 


BRIGHT exits Site-19 and walks out into the courtyard 
between the administrative offices and the staff dormitories. 
The wind is loud, and snow whips up around him. 


Narrator 5: Bright took his meager dinner of bananas and 
whiskey at one of the more depressing staff taverns... 


(BRIGHT leaves the tavern and tries to cross the courtyard. 
As he does, a large crowd of young staff members, all 
laughing and talking loudly, swallow him up.) ...and then he 
went home. 


BRIGHT stumbles out of the crowd, dazed. He stops to collect 
himself, and then peers around cautiously. The crowd is 
absent. Pleased, he attempts to take another step, and the 
crowd reappears. BRIGHT is jostled and tossed to and fro 
within the crowd. 


Bright: FUCK. 


BRIGHT disappears into the darkness of the courtyard as the 
lights move towards a group of CAROLERS singing: "THE 
CAROL OF THE BELLS". 


Actors: 


HARK HOW THE BELLS, 
SWEET SILVER BELLS, 
ALL SEEM TO SAY, 
THROW CARES AWAY 
CHRISTMAS IS HERE, 
BRINGING GOOD CHEER, 
TO YOUNG AND OLD, 
MEEK AND THE BOLD, 
DING DONG DING DONG 
THAT IS THEIR SONG 
WITH JOYFUL RING 

ALL CAROLING 

ONE SEEMS TO HEAR 
WORDS OF GOOD CHEER 
FROM EVERYWHERE 
FILLING THE AIR 

OH HOW THEY POUND, 
RAISING THE SOUND, 
O’ER HILL AND DALE, 
TELLING THEIR TALE, 
GAILY THEY RING 
WHILE PEOPLE SING 


SONGS OF GOOD CHEER, 

CHRISTMAS IS HERE, 

MERRY, MERRY, MERRY, MERRY CHRISTMAS, 
MERRY, MERRY, MERRY, MERRY CHRISTMAS, 
ON ON THEY SEND, 

ON WITHOUT END, 

THEIR JOYFUL TONE 

TO EVERY HOME 

DING DONG DING DONG ... DONG! 


Music fades out. CAROLERS disappear into the shadows. 
BRIGHT appears and stumbles drunkenly towards the door of 
his abode. 


Narrator 5: Arriving home, Bright approached the door to his 
home. 


Narrator 4: There was nothing out of the ordinary about the 
door, except that it was very large... 


Narrator 3: And, of course, it had a door knocker... 
The face of EVERETT MANN appears on the door. 
Mann: BRIGHT! 


Bright: Holy shit, Mann?! (BRIGHT turns around and smacks 
himself, trying to gather his senses. Sufficiently sobered, he 
turns back to the door, where the face of MANN has 
disappeared.) Fuck... | need to lay off the drink. 


Narrator 1: Bright went inside and stumbled up to his room. 


Narrator 5: As he disrobed and climbed into his monkey- 
bed... 


Narrator 3: ...strange sounds began to fill his abode. 


BRIGHT throws on a nightshirt and puts on a pair of reading 
glasses. Howling wind and moaning sounds are heard 
outside. Somewhere, chains are shaking. 


Narrator 2: Jaaaaaaaack... 

Narrator 3: Briiiiiiiiiiiiight.... 

Narrator 5: YouuuuuuuuuuUU... 

Narrator 1: Fuuuuuuckiiiiiiing.... 

Narrator 4: AsssssssssssssssSSSSSSSS... 
Narrator 3: Hoooooo000000000le... 

Narrator 4: Jaaaaaaackkkkkkkk... 

Narrator 3: BRIGHT! 

Bright: Oh my god shut up, Jesus fucking Christ. 


Dragging chains are heard. MANN appears from the 
shadows. 


Mann: Jaaaaaaaaaack! 


Bright: Ohhhhhh no. Not this again. It's just the drink, | won't 
believe it! 


Narrator 3: It was the ghost of Everett Mann! His body 
completely transparent, his mind no worse for wear. 


Narrator 1: All things considered, Mann probably figured this 
was an upgrade. 


Bright: What do you want with me? 
Mann: Much. 

Bright: Who are you? 

Mann: Ask me who | was. 

Bright: |— uh, alright. Who were you? 


Mann: IN LIFE, | WAS MANN THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE, 


your partner and fellow director of this Site-19. 


Bright: Ah, shit, it really is you. Alright, let's get this over with. 
Can you sit down? 


Mann: | can. 
Bright: Do it, then. 


Narrator 4: See, Bright asked the question both because he 
was curious as to whether a ghost so transparent could sit at 
all, and to test whether Dr. Mann's aversion to chairs 
persisted into the afterlife. 


MANN sits. 
Mann: So. What do you think? 
Bright: You've looked better. 


Mann: See, that's what | thought. But then | realized | can 
more or less poke into anywhere | want. Imagine getting up 
close to that damned statue, or watch the Hanged King's 
Tragedy, with no threat of consequence. (MANN inhales 
deeply.) The freedom is liberating, Jack. 


Bright: | don't believe you're real. 
Mann: Why would you doubt your senses? 


Bright: To be fair, monkey-sense is less prone to trickery. But 
the senses are so... sensitive. Easily manipulated. 
Stomachache, headache, accidental amnestic treatment, the 
handle and a half | finished at the bar literally a half hour ago. 
Who knows. 


Narrator 5: At the mention of the alcohol he most assuredly 
had a strong postmortem desire for, the Spirit raised a frightful 
cry, shaking its chains and raising such a clatter that the 
spooked Bright fell backwards out of his chair. 


MANN screams in immaterial fury. 


Mann: AaaaaaAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! 


Bright: Jesus Christ, Mann! Seriously! What the hell do you 
even want? 


Mann: It is required of us all to walk our path through life arm 
in arm with our brothers, Bright. If our spirits do not walk with 
them in life, then they are condemned to do so in death! 


Bright: ...is this something we should be containing, or...? 
Mann: Ooooooo00h... wooo0000000e— 

ALL ACTORS join in the "woe" and add to the volume. 

All: —ooooo000ee EEEEEEEE- 

Mann: —is me! 

MANN shakes the chains hanging from his body.