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Abbott & Costello: Christmas Turkey

The Kate Smith Hour

Abbott & Costello: Christmas Turkey

Dec 22 1938


KATE SMITH, host (1 line)

BUD ABBOTT, the straight man

LOU COSTELLO, the comic

NOTE: Script of variety show sketch.

KATE: Well, everyone in Mopeyville is happy with Christmas cheer and fun tonight, for as Mopeyville goes ... so go ... Bud Abbott and Lou Costello.

LOU: (SINGS) "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the day.

Three more days till Christmas, and then what bills to pay."

BUD: Costello, you're certainly in a happy mood. I suppose you're all through with your Christmas shopping. Hey! What's that string tied around your finger for?

LOU: That's to remind me to remind my wife to ask me if I forgot something she told me to remember.

BUD: Which reminds me. I forgot to get my wife a nutcracker. 

LOU: What kind? Flat iron or rolling pin? 

BUD: Talk sense. What did you forget? 

LOU: A present for my Uncle Bumble Bee.

BUD: What a name. Uncle Bumble Bee.

LOU: Yeah. That's because everybody he touches gets stung. I'm gonna buy him a shaving brush and a razor.

BUD: Has he got a mug?

LOU: Oh, boy! You should see her.

BUD: Well, all I need now is my Christmas turkey.

LOU: Abbott, was I lucky! I got a turkey for running.

BUD: Who did you beat?

LOU: The butcher and two policemen.

BUD: Costello, you'll end up by spending Christmas in the police station.

LOU: Well, that's all right in a pinch. Hey, Abbott, come over to the house Christmas and eat some turkey.

BUD: Why should I have to eat turkey on Christmas? Maybe I'd like chicken.

LOU: I haven't got any chicken. I got turkey.

BUD: Well, is that my fault? Why didn't you ask me what I'd like before you invited me over? If I want chicken, why should you force me to eat turkey?

LOU: Who's forcing you to eat turkey? Don't eat it. 

BUD: I see. Now I shouldn't eat it. I should go hungry while you stuff yourself.

LOU: Who wants you to go hungry? Aw, I'll go out and steal a chicken.

BUD: And what happens to the turkey?

LOU: I'll give it to the dog.

BUD: That's fine. You feed the dog turkey and want me to eat chicken.

LOU: Look, Abbott, what do you keep arguing for? Look at me. I'm congenial.

BUD: Oh, now you're using an assumed name. Who are you to travel incognito?

LOU: Who's traveling in magneto? I ain't using a consumed name. I use my own name. You can find it on my front door.

BUD: Why should I look for your name? I know what it is.

LOU: Then don't look for it.

BUD: I see. I shouldn't look for your name. I should walk into somebody else's house by mistake and get shot for a burglar.

LOU: Ah, I don't want you to get shot. I'm trying to tell you, you're welcome at my house. The door is always open for you.

BUD: Now, you're going to leave the door open. You want me to sit in a draft and catch cold.

LOU: Who wants you to catch cold! I'll close the door. I'll lock the door.

BUD: And what am I supposed to do, crawl in the window?

LOU: What do you mean, crawl in the window? I'll bring you into the house.

BUD: Oh, you'll bring me in. What's the matter, don't you think I can walk? Do you expect me to come over inebriated?

LOU: Who cares if you're inebriated? You don't have to be inebriated. You can wear anything you want. I just want you to have some nice young turkey.

BUD: How do you know it's a young turkey? How can you tell a turkey's age?

LOU: By the teeth. 

BUD: A turkey has no teeth. 

LOU: No, but I have. 

BUD: Is the turkey dressed?

LOU: Did you ever see a turkey running around the streets without any clothes on? Certainly it's dressed. It has on a suit of feathers.

BUD: If it has feathers on, then it isn't dressed.

LOU: How do you like that? If it has feathers, it isn't dressed. Look; I'm talking about a turkey, not a fan dancer.

BUD: So am I talking about a turkey, and if it has feathers on, it isn't dressed.

LOU: Well, what do you want it to wear, a shirt waist and panties, or do you want me to take it to my tailor and say, "Make my turkey a cutaway suit, he's going out for Christmas dinner"?

BUD: That's not necessary. I thought maybe the butcher dressed the turkey.

LOU: That's ridiculous. Do you think the butcher has time to put clothes on animals?

BUD: No.

LOU: Do you think he says to his customers, "How would you like your turkey dressed, as Snow White or one of the Seven Dwarfs"?

BUD: You don't understand. When I say, "Is the turkey dressed?" I don't mean, is the turkey dressed?

LOU: No? What do you mean?

BUD: I mean, is the turkey dressed?

LOU: Ah, this thing is getting too complicated for me. I shoulda stole a hot dog.

BUD: Then why did you steal the turkey in the first place?

LOU: Who stole it in the first place? I had to try three places before I got it.

BUD: Well, what I'm trying to find out is this: Did you pick its feathers?

LOU: Did I pick its feathers! I never saw the turkey before. Do you think I know the style in turkey feathers? It picked its own feathers.

BUD: That's impossible. It couldn't pick its own feathers.

LOU: All right, then its mother chose them for it.

BUD: Costello, when I say, "Pick its feathers," I don't mean pick its feathers.

LOU: I know. You mean, pick its feathers. This thing gets sillier all the time.

BUD: There's nothing silly about it. You've got to pick its feathers. They're good for quills.

LOU: Well, who's got quills. I haven't been sick a day in 5 years.

BUD: Costello, I'm trying to tell you that you can't cook that turkey with its feathers on.

LOU: Are you kidding? 

BUD: Certainly not. You've got to pick the feathers. 

LOU: I'll let my wife pick them. She picks everything else I get. 

BUD: Does she pick your clothes? 

LOU: Only the pockets.

BUD: That's fine. You get mad if your wife picks your pockets, but it's all right for you to steal a turkey. You don't care if the mama and papa turkey sit in their coop all day on Christmas and cry because you're having their baby turkey for dinner.

LOU: I'm a bad boy.

BUD: You are a bad boy.

LOU: I'm the kind of boy my mother don't want me to associate with.

BUD: You bet you are.

LOU: I shouldn't be allowed to carve the turkey on Christmas.

BUD: You won't be allowed. I'll carve the turkey. I'll hand out the portions.

LOU: Then I'll probably end up with the wishbone.

BUD: What's the matter with the wishbone? It's lucky.

LOU: Yeah? Well, the turkey had it, and it didn't do him any good.

BUD: Keep quiet while I figure out how I'll serve the turkey. Now, I'll take the two legs.

LOU: Look, Abbott, I'd like to have one of the legs.

BUD: Sure, the turkey only has two legs, and you want a leg. You're the most selfish person I've ever met.

LOU: Oh, I'm a wanton.

BUD: What do you mean, you're a wanton?

LOU: I'm a wanton one of those turkey legs.

BUD: Never mind that. I'll take the two legs. My wife will take the two wings....

LOU: Well, could I sit under the table and pick up the crumbs?

BUD: I'll take care of your share later. Let me see. That's the two legs and wings, and your wife will take the white meat, your uncle the heart and liver.

LOU: Look, Abbott, could I lick the plate? I gotta come out of this with something.

BUD: Will you stop butting in! Now, that takes care of the legs, wings, white meat, heart, liver and oh, yes, your mother-in-law gets the neck and giblets, and you...

LOU: Aw, never mind me. I'll sit on the fence and grab mine as it goes by!