Narrator: Limber of limb, stout of heart, pure of intention and mind, our heroes roam the globe with their wise and sober mentor. In an era of vacuous pass-times, salacious entertainments and morally dubious diversions, hearken back to a simpler, more hygienic era in The Adventures of Dick & VJ!
THEME MUSIC swells.
Narrator (con’t, in a slightly lower tone): The Adventures of Dick & VJ are made possible by generous underwriting from the Monsanto, Dow Chemical, Johnson & Johnson corporations. Special consideration from Hallmark and the Christmas Tree Shoppe.
The on-stage scene is the main sitting area of the AIRSHIP JACQUES CHAPEAU, the dirigible headquarters of our heroes DICK, VJ and THE DOCTOR. It’s equal parts laboratory, tree house, and rec room. It has a retro-futuristic, steampunk feel. The usual clutter is currently obscured, however, by the trappings of a particularly gaudy Christmas: a massive, ornament-festooned, silver-foil tree towers over the set, which is also draped with so many ropes of blinking Christmas lights that it looks like the rigging of a ship.
THE DOCTOR is weaving additional strings of light into this dense, twinkling net. His usual professorial/scientist outfit is spruced up with a red, fur-trimmed stocking cap. Alternatingly, he hums and sings, badly, the jumbled lyrics to a variety of Christmas carols.
DOCTOR: Siiiiilent night, hoooo . . . hmmm, hmmm, hmmm . . . peace on Earth, can it . . . hmm . . . frightful, fire is so delight . . . hmm . . . chicken and collard greens, rice and stuffin’, macaroni and . . . hmmmm . . .
DICK and VJ enter from their offstage quarters at left, in their usual genitally evocative attire (VJ has, now that bathing-suit season is over, returned to her full-length fur and retired the look featured in The Adventures of Dick & VJ: Brazil). They are chattering animatedly.
DICK: Well, yeah, I’m into it! How many of you are there? Will I . . .
VJ: There’re 13, but Donna has a PTA meeting, so . . .
They stop in their tracks, overwhelmed at the display.
DOCTOR: Dick! VJ! Merry Christmas! Grab a string of lights, hang some ornaments! Oh, look, look!
The Doctor picks his way through the lights toward a box, from which he draws two delicate glass ornaments and hands one each to Dick and VJ: they are noticeably phallic and vulvar, respectively. Dick and VJ receive the gifts, wordlessly, incredulously.
DOCTOR (con’t, with great playful cheer): Well, well? Don’t just stand there! Hang your ornaments on the tree! Lend a hand. We’ve got to get this all ready before Christmas Eve, or Santa will leave you only coal!
He gestures at them encouragingly. Dick and VJ stand motionless for a long beat. Slowly, VJ hands the ornament back to the Doctor.
VJ: That was a really nice thought, Doc. But I don’t celebrate this way. I’m a neopagan. It’s the solstice tonight; we’re heading out to a Yule ritual, to celebrate the rebirth of the Great Horned One.
As if in explanation, she holds up the candles she’s been carrying.
VJ (cont’d): Sorry. C’mon, Dick.
She exits right.
Left onstage with Dick, the Doctor looks at him expectantly, almost imploringly.
Dick: Dude, I’m Jewish. How did you not know that? Plus, I got invited to a coven celebrating the return of the Great Horned One! How hot does that sound?! Gotta run!
Dick hurries offstage right, leaving the Doctor alone, holding the explicit ornaments. He raises them, looking at them each in turn. He then looks out toward the audience, toward us, unblinkingly.
DOCTOR: Eh, fuck it.
With a smile, he turns, bobs and ducks his way through the strings of lights to hang the ornaments on the tree. As he does so, he sings, loudly:
DOCTOR (cont’d): Have a holly, jolly . . . hmm, hmm . . . it’s the best part . . . hm, hm, hmm.