Bad Santa (2003) Movie Script
Hey, can I get another drink|down here?
I've been to prison once.
I've been married twice.
I was once drafted by|Lyndon Johnson and had to live
in shit-ass Mexico for two|and a half years for no reason.
I've had my eye socket|punched in, a kidney taken out,
and I got a bone chip in my|ankle that's never gonna heal.
I've seen some pretty shitty|situations in my life.
But nothing has ever sucked|more ass than this.
If I'd known I was gonna have to|put up with screaming brats
pissing on my lap for 30 days|out of the year,
I would have killed myself|a long time ago.
Come to think of it,|I still might.
Where I come from,|we didn't celebrate Christmas.
Not because we were Jewish,|but because my dad
was a worthless-coward fucking|asshole whose idea of a present
was a daily punch|to the back of the head.
He did teach me|how to crack a safe, though.
My dad never did shit with his|life, so he took it out on me.
You could say I'm no different.|I'd have to say you were right.
But at this point,|it's too late to start over.
Funny how things work out.
It's fucking hilarious.
There's Santa Claus.|Look there.
Wow.
Oh, my.|What a darling photo.
Are you certain you only want|the single?
Additional photos come in handy|as gifts for Grandma and Grandpa
or as a wonderful remembrance|for friends.
Gee.|You know what?
This one, I think it's more|than enough.
Thanks.|Merry Christmas.
So, what do you want,|little girl?
A drum set.
Oh, the old man will love that.
Okay. Fine.|See you later.
I saw you at another mall.
Well, I'm very happy for you.
You're not really Santa.
If you were Santa,|you could do magic.
You want to see some magic?
Here.|Let's watch you disappear.
Watch the bladder, kid.|Santa's got to pee.
-What do you want?|-A new bike.
Wow. That's a new one.|Excellent.
Attention, shoppers.
The store will be closing|in five minutes.
We hope tomorrow is|a pleasant Christmas.
Thank you for shopping with us.
-Is that it?|-Yeah, that's the last one.
Thank the fuck Christ.
Jesus, Mother Mary, and Joseph.
You pissed yourself.
Aw, Jesus.
Yeah, all right.
Yeah.
Hey, happy holidays.|All right.
Merry Christmas.
Happy holidays.
Get home safe.
Yeah, okay.
I don't care what he says.
-We're going out for a beer.|-What the fuck?
I'll get right back to you.
What the hell's wrong with you?|I'm trying to fucking leave.
Pants are awful baggy.
You got anything in there?
Yeah. My dick.|You want to see it?
Keep pushing me.
I got my eyes on you.
All the time.
Ready.
Jesus.
-How's it going?|-I'm finished when I'm finished.
I'm going back upstairs.
I need a melon baller|and a loofah.
Got it.
Fuck the loofah.|Let's go.
Marcus, you get the loofah?
Drive.
Oh!
jingle bell rock
in jingle bell time
Oh, I'm dizzy.|Put me down.
Hey, put me down.
Come on!|Put me down.
Oh, come on.
Oh, man.
Hey, baby, two more of these,|all right?
No.|That's it for me.
You can't drink worth a shit,|you know that?
I weigh 92 pounds, you dick.
Come on. One more.|It's a celebration.
Here's to you.
To have the blues
My baby's gone
You're getting worse,|you know that?
Well, at least I got it open.
It took you long enough.
I remember when you could unlock|a lock like it was nothing.
Yeah, well, you don't have to|worry about me anymore.
I'm out.
Bullshit.
Bullshit, my ass.
We just made $111,000|in one night.
Exactly. I figure I got enough|to go to Miami.
And do what?
I don't know. Shit.|Get a car.
Get a place, maybe.
Maybe start a business.|A bar out on the beach.
Something like that.
I could quit drinking|and run the place.
Maybe marry a waitress.
What?
You ain't gonna do shit|except go down there
and drink your fucking ass off.
You're gonna piss|everything away
and end up counting the days|till next Christmas.
You'd like that, wouldn't you?
Well, it ain't gonna happen.
If I call you next December --
if I call you next December --
you're gonna be so happy|to hear from me
you're gonna do|a goddamn backflip.
You're gonna put|that Santa hat on so fast
that you're gonna get|fucking hat-burn.
Can I get you guys two more?
No, thanks.|We're all right.
See?
I'm already on the wagon.
Hey. Asshole!
How many times|I got to tell you?
Get out from behind my bar!
Put the drink down right now.
Put the drink down right now!
Ahh.|Fuck you.
-Fuck me, huh?|-Right.
Oh. Hey!
Ow!
Get the fuck out of my bar.
Fuck you!
You're fucking crazy.
Fucking prick.
Asshole!
Get the fuck out of here|right now!
jolly Christmas
And in case you didn't hear
have a holly jolly --
Fucking shit!
Fuck you!
Fuck you!
Fuck you!
Yeah, baby.
Hey, Tiffany, you want to play|"Hide the Nazi" one day?
God damn it.
Here you go, sweetie.
I got something|for your pretty ass.
-You do?|-Yeah.
Wow. $5.
Thanks.
I gotta listen to my messages,|and you need to take a shower.
I'm a dancer.|I sweat.
Yeah, well, you smell like|a bum's nut sac.
Fuck you.
Message one.
Mr. Soke?
This is Andrew Kaplan again,|from the collection agency.
Message two.
This is Dolores Axelrod.
You ran into my car last week.
I called State Farm,
but they have no record|of any insurance policy for you.
In case you misplaced it,|my phone number is 4 --
Message three.
Willie, it's Marcus.|It's that time of year again.
Pack your shit.|Phoenix.
is frightful
is so delightful
to go
let it snow
of stopping
for popping
way down low
Let it snow, let it snow
Jesus Christ!
Can you maybe keep it together|for just 10 minutes?
Harrison, just let me explain,|please. Financially --
Well, you get what you paid for,|Chipeska.
Five Christmases I've been here.
You flip me for some stranger|who'll do it for peanuts
and who happens to work|with a real midget.
Nobody cares.|Nobody comes here for the elf.
Santa's the attraction.
I do Burl lves songs.
Does this schmo|even play guitar?
Look, Harrison, it's not about|the money or the midget.
Believe me, if it was, I --
I don't think they like|"midget."
I think you're supposed to|call them...
Oh, just forget it.
Hacks!
Hi.
Bob Chipeska.|Welcome.
Great photo and rsum,|by the way.
Thanks.
We've been at this|a long time and all.
We'd like to think we do|a good job.
I'm so glad you guys could|come in on such short notice.
I must say,|your look is just sensational.
Thanks.
We've been at this for years.|You got nothing to worry about.
You two are the best men|for this job, truly.
So don't let his unpleasantness|affect your performance.
-Oh, no. We're fine.|-Performance?
Yes. Uh, your performance.|You know, the, um...
Performance, like sexual?
-Excuse me?|-Willie.
Are you saying there's|something wrong with my gear?
Is that what you're saying?
-I'm sorry. Your gear?|-Willie.
My fuck stick.
Hey, Willie.|Take a seat.
You know how|your blood sugar is.
He's not going to say "fuck|stick" in front of the children?
No, no, no.|It's a joke.
An adult joke for us adults.
It's a joke.|Just a joke.
"Fuck stick"?
Yes. I thought it was|very strange, too.
So, as our security chief,
I wanted you to be aware.
But his little friend promised|he wouldn't say it
in front of the children,|which is fine.
Because, you know,|there is an adult world
and a child's world,|and that's okay.
I'm no censor.
"Little friend"?
Yes, he happens to be a dwarf.
Or midget.
I don't know|what he's called exactly.
But, uh, he's a little guy.
Little Billy Barty.|God rest.
But thin fingers.
Not the fat sausage fingers.
"Little people."|That's what they like.
Yes. Uh, right.|Little people.
So "fuck stick."|That's it?
Yeah.
Merry Christmas!|Santa's coming. Yay!
Merry Christmas!|Santa's coming. Yay!
Merry Christmas!
Have you seen that new Santa|they just hired?
Yeah.|He's back there drunk.
He's coming, guys.|Santa will be here real soon.
God damn it!
What the fuck you doing?|You blow this, and we're broke.
So stop acting|like you know something.
'Cause, pal of mine,|you don't know squat!
Now, put on your hat|and get out there.
And try to act professional,|for Christ's sakes.
What do you want?
What?
Get out of here.
Next.
Next.
Oh, good.|What do you want?
What do you want?|What are you doing?
God damn it!
Nintendo Deer Hunter 3.
I don't give a shit|what you want.
Blowing snot all over everybody|and fucking whatever.
Next.|Come on.
What do you want?
-Um, Santa?|-Yeah, I'm Santa.
Come on.|What do you want?
-Um, Barbie.|-Say cheese.
Okay. Fine.|Barbie.
Oh, thank you.
Ow! Watch the toenails, kid!|Shit.
Next.
Next!
What do you want?
Fraggle-Stick car.
What the fuck is that?
Fraggle-Stick car.
Well, I heard you.|Fraggle-Stick car. Fine.
Hey, check out this loser.
Hey, fat-ass.|How you doing today?
Hey, loser.
Hey, dipshit.
Moron.
Hey, loser.|How you doing today?
Dumb-ass,|why don't you turn around?
You know what?|Fuck this.
You're next.
Next.
I said next, God damn it.|This is not the DMV, all right?
Move it along.
What's your name?|You can tell me.
I know.|How about Santa?
If you don't tell him,|you won't get a present.
That's right.
Come on and tell Santa|all about it.
What do you want?
Well, come on.|What do you want?
A snot-rag?
Great.|Another fucking Mongoloid.
Marcus, get this kid off me|before he pisses on me.
Don't fuck with my beard.
It's not real.
No shit.
Well, it was real.
But, you see, I got sick|and all the hair fell out.
How did you get sick?
I loved a woman|who wasn't clean.
Mrs. Santa?
No.|It was her sister.
What's it like|at the North Pole?
Like the suburbs.
Which one?
Apache Junction.
What the fuck do you care?|Now, get off my lap.
You sit there|like a fucking retard.
You are really Santa, right?
No.|I'm an accountant.
I wear this fucking thing as|a fashion statement, all right?
Okay.
Get this kid out of here.|He's freaking me out.
I got to get a drink on.|I'll see you tomorrow.
Just don't come into work|stinking of booze again.
Yeah.|Why don't you get going?
You'll be late for your|"Wizard of Oz" Candy Bar Guild.
Lollipop Guild, you asshole.|Jesus!
Two-year-olds flip me shit|better than you.
You saying something to me?
Yeah. I'm gonna stick|my whole fist up your ass.
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
in a one-horse open sleigh
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
in a one-horse open sleigh
in a one-horse open sleigh
laughing all the way
making spirits bright
What?
sing a sleighing song tonight
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Mmm.
Another Grand-Dad, Santa?
Yeah.
Yeah?
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
Got a name?
Yeah.
So, what do you do, you know...
After the holidays, I mean.
Well, nothing till March,|and then I'm the Easter Bunny.
Oh. Another?
Yeah. Why not?
Merry Christmas.
Not a big talker.
No, not really.
-Buy you one?|-Why not?
Happy New Year.
You're pretty regular|for a Santa.
It's not that big|a fucking deal.
It's just a job,|you know what I mean?
I'm an eating, drinking,|shitting, fucking Santy Claus.
Prove it.
Fuck me, Santa.|Fuck me, Santa.
Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa.|Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa.
Fuck me, Santa.|Fuck me, Santa!
Can't I at least take|this hat off?
No. I love the hat.
Okay.
Whoo!
I've always had a thing|for Santa Claus.
In case you didn't notice.
It's like some deep-seated|childhood thing.
So is my thing for tits.
Yeah.|It is like that, though.
From when you're a kid.
'Cause my dad was Jewish,|and we didn't have Christmas.
So it was like|this forbidden thing.
So...
I like you.
Don't mothball that suit.
What the fuck?
I am not gay.
-What the hell, buddy?|-Buddy?
I said I am not gay.
Are you off your fucking meds|or something?
Yes.
But that isn't|what this is about.
You're as queer as a $10 bill.
Let me tell you something,|motherfucker.
My brother lost a goddamn arm|fighting you fuckers in Vietnam.
So I want you to look at my face|one last fucking time.
This is the last thing you're|ever gonna see before I --
Elf fucker!
-Motherfucker!|-Turn around, elf fucker.
Who's the bitch now,|Santy Claus? Huh?
Faggy Claus!|Faggy!
Leave Santa alone!
Little boy, don't interfere.|I am doing this for all of us.
Leave Santa alone!
Ass clown.
Hey, you're that kid.
What the fuck are you|doing here?
This one fucking time|I take you home, okay?
Uh-huh.
I'm not your fucking dada.
Uh-huh.
It's not like you helped me|with that nutjob or anything.
-Uh-huh.|-You're the right height.
You're right there|to grab his balls.
-You could twist them.|-Why do you need a car?
-What?|-This car.
Which turn is it?
Sage Terrace.|Where's your sleigh?
It's in the shop,|getting repaired.
-Where are the reindeer?|-I stabled them.
Is it left or right?
That way.
Where's the stable?
-Next to the shop.|-How do they sleep?
Who? The reindeer?|Standing up.
But the noise.|How do they sleep?
-What noise?|-From the shop.
They only work during the day,|all right?
I thought it was always night|at the North Pole.
Well, not now.|Right now it's always day.
Then how do they sleep?
-Oh, shit. Sage Terrace.
What is it with you? Somebody|drop you on your fucking head?
On my head?
Are they gonna drop you|on somebody else's head?
How can they drop me|onto my own head?
No, not onto your...|Would...
God damn it!|Are you fucking with me?
Okay.|Which house is it?
That one.
With Jesus and his family|there or what?
No.|The one beside that.
-Right here?|-Yeah. That one.
All right.
Nice digs.
Is Daddy home?
He's on an adventure,|exploring mountains.
He's been gone a long time.
Exploring mountains, huh?|How long is he gonna be gone?
Till next year.
Yeah?|What about Mommy?
She lives in God's house with|Jesus and Mary and the ghost
and the long-eared donkey and|Joseph and the talking walnut.
Well, who the fuck takes care|of you, then?
Grandma.
Yeah?|What's her name?
Grandma.
Is Granny spry?
Everybody!
D-O-L-E, Dole
Banana shuffle
Grandma? Grandma?
Santa's here.
Oh, Roger.|You're home.
Are you spry?
Let me fix you some sandwiches.
Are you telling me|she's the only one here?
Nobody else?
No aunts or cousins or uncles|or anything like that?
A butler or security guard|or something?
Nuh-unh.
You're shitting me.
Does your daddy have a safe?
Need money to fix your sleigh?
Exactly.
You want milk and cookies?
No.
Should I fix you|some sandwiches?
Unh-unh.
Does your daddy have a car?
Bye, Santa!
of little Nell
fill it well
Oh, my!
Keep going.|-Jesus!
Ohh!
Oh, God!
Ooh!
Oh, Zena!|Oh, Mary!
Keep it going.
Jesus Christ!
Yeah, baby.|Yeah, baby.
You ain't gonna|shit right for a week.
Oh!
-Yeah, buddy!|-Yeah!
-Whoo!
It won't happen again.|I can promise you that.
Willie here has low blood sugar.|That's all.
That's right.|I forgot to take my pill.
It's not just the swearing.
Um...
Forgive me for prying.
But did one of you, um...
fornicate...
Fornicate?
Yes, with a heavyset woman|in the Big & Tall dressing room.
Look, I've boned a lot|of fat chicks in my time, sure.
But as far as I can recall,|I've never fornicated anybody.
Yes, well, even still,
I think it's best for|all parties considered if we --
If we what?
Well, I have someone else|interested in the position.
Before you do something stupid,
you may want to think|about this shit.
What are you talking about?
I'm talking about firing|a little black midget.
A colored, African-American|small person.
That's what I'm talking about.
I'm talking about your face|all over goddamn "USA Today."
I'm talking about 150|of these little motherfuckers
all over the sidewalk out there.
Little picket signs,|chanting and raving.
Using little bullhorns|and shit like that.
Screaming and hollering|your name out.
Unfair practices.|Get me?
No. No, no.|This is not a handicap thing.
I have nothing|against you people.
"You people"?
Did you hear that, Marcus?|He said, "You people."
Who the hell is "us people"?
Wait. Wait.|No, no.
I -- You don't under--|What?
He...|No, no.
Um, you know, I think it's best
if we just forget we had|this conversation.
Okay.
Good thinking.
And don't worry about us.|We'll be fine.
Let's get the hell|out of here, Marcus.
You're pathetic.
I dig that little thing|on your belly button.
What's that?|Like a diamond?
It's a belly-button ring.
Oh, yeah?|Hang on a second.
Check this out.
You got to thrust.|See what I'm saying?
You gotta move the ball around.|You go up there, baby.
Come on.
See? Move the ball.|There you go.
Motherfucker!
Oh, you lousy, fucking|motherfucker.
That's the shit|that's gonna get us pinched.
She said she was 18.
But you promised no arcades.
You said you'd only hustle|Big & Tall.
You shat me out of your womb?|You're my fucking mom now?
I don't need|any goddamn lectures.
I know how to keep|a low profile. Thank you.
What the fuck is this,|Mr. Low Profile?
Mind your own goddamn business.
Ever hear of|the open bottle law?
A couple of days ago, I was in,|uh, Women's Big & Tall.
And I heard these...
Um, you know, these noises.
And I heard a woman screaming,|"Yeah. Oh, yeah."
And I heard his voice saying,|"That's right.
You ain't going to S-H-I-T|right for a month."
But don't get me wrong.
I was against|the Clinton impeachment.
What a man does|with his own penis --
Oval Office,|Women's Big & Tall --
it's not for|the American people to say.
Yeah, right.
But when you're dealing|with children...
They have a tender sensibility.
And you are in a position|of trust.
I think perhaps someone who has|screaming orgasms
with large women shouldn't...
Yeah.
Of course,|I can't fire him for that.
Oh, yeah.|Unfair practices.
Special pleading.|Bitch, bitch, bitch.
Fucking broads.
But I just can't help it.
There's something about the guy|that makes me uneasy.
Well, sure.
Santa fucking someone|in the ass.
-So...
Maybe there's something|I could fire him for.
Yeah, I get you.
Do you?
Do you think|you could find something?
Shit, yeah.|There's always something.
Shit.
Hey, Opal.|Come here.
Unh-unh.
Screw you, Willie,|your kinky ass.
Last time I didn't shit right|for a week.
No, it's not that.|I need to talk to you.
I'm just tired of you, Willie.
Ooh.
Who the fuck is in my room?
Did you see somebody|go in my room?
Yeah.|Some guy asking about you.
Looked like a cop.
Oh, shit.
Marcus, it's Willie.
I just got back to the motel.
Some guy is nosing around|in my room.
What guy?|You get a look at him?
No.|But I think he's a cop, though.
Think somebody's onto us?
Is there anything in the room?|Anything professional?
No, I just got clothes in there.
Just ditch, you idiot.
You got anywhere to sack out|for a while?
-Santa!|-Yeah.
You're bringing|my present early?
No.
But I never told you|what I wanted.
I said I didn't bring it,|dipshit.
Okay. Good.
I want a stuffed elephant.|A pink one.
Wish in one hand,|shit in the other one.
See which one fills up first.
Okay.
So I'm gonna be staying here|for a while.
Things are all fucked up|at the North Pole.
Mrs. Santa caught me|fucking her sister.
And I'm out on my ass now.
She got half of everything.
This is gonna be cool.
This will do fine.
So I'm gonna be crashing here.
It will be just you and me,|like roommates, you know?
Do you and Mrs. Santa have kids?
No.|Thank the fuck Christ.
What about the elves?
Well, they stay with Mrs. Santa.
I get them on the weekends.
Why don't you go run me a bath?
What about the reindeer?
Would you please shut up|about reindeer?
What are their names?
Who?
The elves.
Oh, shit.|I can't remember.
I think one of them is Sneezy.|There's a Dopey.
That's the Seven Dwarfs.
Oh, you're shitting me.
I thought...|I was thinking it was the...
I don't know.|Fuck, kid.
I just call them, "bub."
I say, "Hey, bub" or "chief"|or whatever the fuck.
I tell him to make|the goddamn toy.
What the fuck is wrong|with you?
I can't remember this shit!
Does everything with you|have to be a fucking test?
How old are they?
You want cookies?
No.
Warm milk?
No.
Should I fix you|some sandwiches?
I don't want|any fucking sandwiches.
What is it with you|and fixing fucking sandwiches?
Okay.|Do you want anything else?
No.
Okay.
Santa?
What?
I brought you some orange juice.
What's in it?
Oranges.
Look what I have.
An Advent calendar.
What the hell is that?
It's the story of Christmas,|but in a calendar.
Every day you peel open|a new box.
You get part of the story.
And then there's|a chocolate inside.
Do you want to open up|today's box and read it?
No.|You go ahead.
Jesus Christ, kid.|Watch the nuts.
"So Joseph went up from|the town of Nazareth in Galilee
to Judea, to Bethlehem,|the town of David.
In those days Caesar Augustus|issued a decree
that a census should be taken|of the entire Roman world.
Everyone went to his hometown|to register."
-That it?|-Yep.
That's an awesome|fucking story, kid.
There's more to it, but we|have to wait till tomorrow.
Do you want to eat|the chocolate?
You go ahead.
Are you coming downstairs?
I'll be down in a minute.|I got to go to work.
Fuck me?|Fuck you.
You can't just take up|with some kid.
You don't know who's around|or what they do.
You got some nerve,|you little shit, you.
What, you're my mom now?|You shat me out of your womb?
You said that yesterday,|you stupid fuck.
Shit.
Fuck you.
You are by far the dumbest,
most pathetic piece|of maggot-eating shit
that has ever slid|from a human being's hairy ass.
What if the kid has one of those|fucking playdates they have now?
Are you shitting me?|The kid don't have any friends.
He don't even have an imaginary|friend unless he ditched him.
He lives with his drooling-ass|old grandmother.
Sits in front of the TV|all the time.
You think she's gonna|rat me out?
She don't know her ass|from last Tuesday.
You fuck her?
Jesus Christ.
Is everything fucking sex|with you?
With me?|I fuck one person.
I ain't out there|serial fornicating,
trying to float my liver,|drinking myself silly
'cause I can't stand|what a piece of shit I am.
What are you,|Sigmund Sawed-off Fucking Freud?
Yeah, that's right.
Go ahead.|Talk about my height.
Make it about something safe
'cause you're|an emotional cripple.
Your soul is dog shit.
Every single fucking thing|about you is ugly.
Come on, Lois.|Let's get out of here.
Look who's here, Jimmy.|It's Santa.
That's fucking great.
Let's tell him what you want|for Christmas.
Fuck.
I'm on my fucking|lunch break, okay?
Are you insane?
Management's gonna hear|about this.
You think that's a threat?
If you think you can make my|life any worse, go right ahead.
Be my fucking guest.|Take a shot.
of the year
jingle-belling
"Be of good cheer"
of the year
Just looking.
Aah!
Find everything|you're looking for?
Um, yeah.|Thank you.
Nothing I can help|you with, huh?
No. I'm just looking at|the games 'cause I have an Xbox.
Get your hands|out of my pants, man!
You're stealing from the store,|you're stealing from me.
What is this?
I was gonna pay for it.
Wrong answer.
When I look at you,|you know what I think?
I think America has|a sad future ahead of it.
And you're part|of this sorry-ass generation.
What you want to be|when you grow up?
I don't know.
-This MP3?|-Yeah.
Take it off.
But my grandmother gave --
Take it off. I don't care|who gave it to you.
Take it off.
I don't care if it choke you|to death.
Now, I want you to get on|out of here. Get!
-But can I have...|-Get!
Happy Kwanzaa.
And pull your damn pants up!
What's wrong with you kids|these days?
MAN: Gin?
-Yeah.|-What do you need?
I need you to run a plate|for me.
It's Arizona plates.
Hold on.|Let me get a pen.
Is that it?
For Christ's sake, make a move|and stick with it, would you?
King me.
Son of a bitch!
You lousy, cheating little shit!
You're fucking with me!|You did that on purpose.
You play like the dead lice|are falling off of you,
and then suddenly, you're like|Seabiscuit all over the place.
You're a smartass,|is what you are, kid.
Want to play again?
Howdy.|Herb Gunner.
I live two streets over|on Burning Trail Road.
I don't think we've met.
I'm Uncle Willie.
I'm organizing the decorations|for the subdivision this year.
-You mind if I come in?|-Yeah.
I mean yeah, I mind.
Okay. Uh...
Will you be participating in our|luminarias program this year?
-What the hell is a lunamaria?|-They're luminarias.
Small sacks filled with|about a pound of sand each.
We insert a candle|in the middle, light it,
and the bag glows.
Then we line|all the sidewalks here
all around the neighborhood.
You see, we don't celebrate|Christmas around here, so...
We're, uh, we're Muslims.
Look, it's my first year|running this.
I'd like it if there weren't|any gaps in it.
What if I come by|Christmas Eve and do it for you?
No, you know what?|You don't have to do that.
Yeah, me and the kid here,|we'll do something.
Great.|I got the supplies.
-I'll throw them in the garage.|-Perfect.
Awesome.
Going in the garage,|just so you know.
You can make|a delicious six-pound chicken.
Enough hot dogs and sausages|to feed a small army.
Not one, but two delicious|rotisserie chickens.
Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa.|Fuck me, Santa.
Fuck me, Santa.|Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa.
Scrumptious|6-pound standing rib roast.
And everybody's favorite,|baby back ribs.
This is such a nice house.
Needs a woman's touch, though.
I just rent|the fucking place anyway.
Yeah.|I just rent stuff, too.
Yeah?
How long are you gonna be here?
What? On the couch?
No.
In town.
I don't know.|Just through the holidays.
You know, then I'll move on.
So, do you like kids?
Fuck, no!
Do you think|I'm some kind of pervert?
I just mean because|you're Santa Claus.
Oh.
I like kids.|I really like kids.
-You do?|-I love kids.
Well, good.
Yeah, they're something else,|those kids.
And to tell you the truth...
The fact of the matter is,|I'm not Santa.
Like ya anyway.
So, you'll call me, right?
Yeah.|I'll call you.
I'm gonna buy you some flowers.
Some of those|really good expensive ones.
Shut up.
Bye.
Roger, you're home.
Let me fix you some sandwiches.
What the fuck?
Kid, what the fuck|is wrong with you?
Jesus Christ!
Let me see it!|Let me see it!
What the hell happened to you?!
I cut my hand by mistake!|Ow!
-Of course it was by mistake.|-Ow!
Here, hold still.|Hold still.
I was just trying to help you!
I forgot to say,|"It's gonna sting a little bit."
Shouldn't I wrap it|in a T-shirt or something?
God damn it.
-Hey, kid?
Kid, you okay up there?
You need a Band-Aid|or something?
Aw, shit.
You're late.
Kids.|Let me tell you.
They run you ragged.
Morning, team.
Hey, hey, hey.
It's not quite 8:00 yet.
Well, how close are we?
Now it's 8:00.
Merry Christmas.
Up your ass.
God damn it!
You tear your ball again?
I don't think so.
That's it.
God damn it!
Sweetheart,|don't romance 'em, now.
Go on and get in there.|I can take it.
Yeah.
Gin, I got the info|on that Arizona plate.
All right.|Now you're talking.
Oh, hold on one minute.
Baby, baby. Baby, baby.|Don't use that one.
That's not the stuff.
Use something|with some claws to it.
Yeah, that hard candy.|That's it right there.
Let me get some of that.|Yeah, that's it.
Okay.
Yeah, I'm back.
The guy's Roger Merman.
-Guess where he is.|-Give it to me.
Ow! Damn it!|What's wrong with you, woman?
Who are you?
Your name Roger Merman?
Yes. But...
You doing three to six|for embezzlement?
Uh, well, many accounting|questions are not cut-and-dried.
Do you live at 41 Sage Terrace?
Is it Grandma?
Is my son all right?
They're fine.
Do you have any houseguests?
Houseguests?
Thank you for your time.|God bless.
Well, hey, who are you?
Houseguests?
Little trick I learned|up at the North Pole.
If you fry baloney,|it tastes like a hot dog.
I thought you|didn't like sandwiches.
Yeah, but this|is not a sandwich.
A sandwich has|two pieces of bread
with a bunch of junk on it.
It's like a tostada.
This isn't a tostada.
There you go, Granny.
Little salsa here.
Now it's a tostada.
Have you seen|my Advent calendar?
What the fuck is it|with the Advent calendar?
Why are you so obsessed|with that goddamn thing?
The story sucks anyway.
I think I saw it in the hallway.
-Really?|-I think so.
Looks like someone messed|with my Advent calendar.
What are you talking about?|Let me see.
Nobody messed with it.|It looks fine.
There's a candy corn|in this one.
Well, they can't all be winners,|can they?
Well, it's fucked.
Yeah?
Yeah.
-Fucked, frankly.|-He's...
-Clean...|-Oh.
-As a fucking whistle.|-Nothing?
-No.|-Oh.
-Nothing. I mean shit.|-Yeah.
-He curses.|-Yeah?
-But never around children.|-Oh.
-No criminal record.|-Yeah.
-No parking tickets.|-Nothing.
-No bad habits, even.|-Oh.
Sex, yeah.
-But man is a sexual being.|-Yeah.
-Fuckin' Darwinian.|-Oh.
-You can't do shit about that.|-No.
Hell, I wouldn't want to.
No, of course not.|I'm not advocating celibacy.
Hope not. It'd be the end|of the fucking human race.
Yeah.
Fucks large women.
What can I say?
Hey, look,|it's the retard again.
Wedgie.
-Yeah.|-Yeah.
Well, what the hell do you want?
Pokmon!
Done.
You probably shouldn't|be digging in your ass.
Santa...
Oh, jeez.
-Is that your underwear?|-Part of it.
Where the hell's the rest of it?
No, actually, don't tell me.|What do you want?
I was thinking I wanted a purple|stuffed elephant, not pink.
But now I changed my mind.
-Yeah, what?|-Now I don't want an elephant.
I want a gorilla named Davey
for beating up the skateboard|kids who pull on my underwear.
He could take his orders|from the talking walnut,
so it wouldn't be my bad thing.
Jesus, kid.
When I was your age,|I didn't need no gorilla,
and I wasn't as big|as one of your legs.
Four kids beat me up|and I went crying to my daddy.
-You know what he did?|-He made it all better?
No, he kicked my ass.|You know why?
'Cause you went to the bathroom|on Mommy's dishes?
What the fuck?
No.
He tried to teach you|not to cry and be a man?
No. It's because he was|a mean, drunk son of a bitch.
When he wasn't busting my ass,
he was putting cigarettes out|on my neck.
The world ain't fair.
You gotta take what you need|when you can get it.
Learn to stand up for yourself.|Quit being a pussy.
Kick these kids|in the balls or something.
Or don't.|Shit, I don't care.
Just leave me out of it.|Now, get on out of here.
Okay.|Thanks, Santa.
Go get the next lucky boy|or girl, okay?
All right, next.
Open the ropes there, Marcus.
I know you?
Not yet.
Seven cities in seven years.
Pretty impressive.
The store changes,|your name changes.
But you always get away clean.
Yeah.
Pretty darn impressive.
Well, let's face the facts.
Y'all are a couple|of half-bucket small-timers.
You, because of your physical|attributes, found a niche,
and I respect that.
But you also been caught...
...by me.
So this is how it's gonna be.
I don't want to take over.
I don't even want to change|your scam.
Whatever you guys do, it works.
All I want is a taste.
When the deed is done,|we part ways.
I'll buy a little ranch|in Havasu,
and you all take your little|medicine show back on the road.
-How much?|-Half.
No way! You don't know|who you're fucking with.
Back off, Will.|I got this. I got this!
Okay. 30%.
There's three of us.|30%. That's fair.
Half.
I meant 33%...
I meant half.
...and 1/3.
Half.
Half.
Half.
Half.
Half.
Half.
Half.
Well, what's one point?
We split the dough|right down the middle.
Any merchandise you take, I get|to look at and cherry-pick.
No! Money's one thing,|but you ain't gettin' the --
This ain't no Chinese menu,|jagoff.
I tell you how it's gonna be.
This is pricks fix.
Pricks fix?
He's a fucking moron.
Oh, really?
Is that how you got|the upper hand?
Fuck you.
Negotiating?
If you don't like,|next year, fuck off.
I can always get|another box jockey.
I can get another midget, too.
Yeah, where?
You see us hanging off of trees|like fucking crab apples?
Even if we did, you'd never|front your own racket.
You know why, Willie?|You got no discipline.
You got zero fuckin' initiative.|You'd fall apart without me.
You're too pathetic for words.
You're a fucking loser,|and you fucking know it.
in a one-horse sleigh
pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and mingle|in the jinglin' beat
That's the jingle bell rock
Santa'll be here real soon,|kids. Real soon.
Jingle bells chime|in jingle bell time
There he is.|Look.
ln jingle bell square
Oh, no.
What a bright time,|it's the right time
To rock the night away
Oh, my God!
Is a swell time
To go glidin'|in a one-horse sleigh
Giddyup, jingle horse,|pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and mingle|in the jinglin' beat...
Sweet Jews for Jesus.
I pissed myself.
What the fuck|do you think you doing?
You son of a bitch!
Hey, hey, hey.|Hey, hey.
Hey, come on, come on.
Look, hey!|Come on, come on!
Look here.|Get him out of here.
I'll smooth things over|with Chipeska.
-Tell him food poisoning.|-"Get him out of here"?
Take him to the car.
In case you hadn't noticed,|I'm a motherfuckin' dwarf.
So unless you got|a forklift handy,
maybe you should|lend a hand, hmm?
That figures. You want|all kind of set-asides.
Special treatment|'cause you're handicapped.
You all the same.
Special treatment?
I'm 3-foot-fucking-tall,|you asshole!
It's a matter of physics.
Draw me a sketch of how|I get him to the car, huh?
Bitch, bitch, bitch.
Sketch it up, you moron.
Fucking Leonardo da Vinci.
What you call me, thigh high?
I called you|a fucking guinea homo
from the 1 5th-fucking-century,|you dickhead!
I could stick you up my ass,|small fry.
Yeah? You sure it ain't|too sore from last night?
You got some lip on you, midget.
Well, these lips were on|your wife's pussy last night.
Why don't you dust that|thing off once in a while?
Asshole.
I pissed my pants.
Oh, shut up.
Santa.
Santa?
What?
What are you doing?
Nothing.
You going to work today?
Not really.
You just gonna sit there?
Yeah.
Just let me alone, okay?
Hey, wait a minute.|Hey, kid?
Yeah?
I want you to take this letter.
When the paramedics come|to bag Santa up,
there's gonna be|some cops there.
I want you to make sure that|those cops get that envelope.
What is it?
It just tells|all the bad things that...
What the fuck happened|to your eye?
Fucking little prick!
So you like to give little kids|black eyes, huh?
How 'bout you, huh?!|You want some?!
Anybody else?|Anybody else? Come on!
Yeah, there you go.
You know, I think|I've turned a corner.
Yeah?|You fucking petites now?
No. I'm not talking about that.
I beat the shit|out of some kids today.
But it was for a purpose.
It made me feel good|about myself.
It was like I did something|constructive with my life.
I don't know.
Like I accomplished something.
You need many years of therapy.
Many, many, many|fuckin' years of therapy.
Okay. You don't drink,|which is smart on your part.
But being sober can put you|at a disadvantage
when it comes to violence.
I can't box worth a shit, see.
But I'm good in a fight|because I can't feel anything.
You, you're gonna feel|everything.
Okay.
Now put your dukes up.|Let me see what you got.
This is bullshit!
Give me one good reason why l|should even consider doing this.
'Cause I let 2,000 kids|spit in my face for your ass.
That's why.
Now, I'm asking you|for this one thing.
Come on, look at the kid.
He is pathetic.
Yeah, he's just a little...
He's a fucking retard.
Yeah, let's show him|a couple of things
so he can defend himself, then.
Unless you're scared.
All right,|here's what's gonna happen.
Marcus is a bully, right?
He's gonna pull your underwear|up out of your pants.
Now, what do you do?
I don't know.
God damn it!|You don't know?
If somebody wants to pull your|underwear up out of your pants,
you have to get mad.
Yeah, kid, come on.|Get mad.
Scream at him.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Listen at him.|He's a fucking faggot.
Loud! Scream!
Be loud! Be mean!
Piss him off!|Come on!
Aah!
You don't|hit people in the balls,
you asshole!
Aah!
What the fuck's wrong with you?|He's just a kid.
-Fuck you, Willie!|-Ow!
God damn it.
I told you|I didn't want to do this!
Making me...|Ohh!
Oh, shit.
Kid, maybe you shouldn't spend|so much time around me.
You sneaky little prick.
Fuck you!|Little bastard!
Get off me!
Shut up. That's not even|what you said.
Oh, God damn it,|I forgot about that.
We got a fucking nursing home|around here.
Well, we can go in another room.
She does look kind of still,|doesn't she?
Hey, Granny?
Hey, Granny.
Hey, there, Granny?
Oh, Granny.
Oh, my God.
What the fuck?
Oh, shit.
-Roger!|-God!
-God damn it! Shit!|-You're home.
-Please just tap me.|-Let me fix some sandwiches.
Hello, little boy.
Hello.|Santa...
I know that Christmas Eve|is in a couple days,
and you have to fly around|the world
and give presents to everyone,|and you won't be around anymore.
Yeah?
So I thought I'd give you|your present now.
What the fuck is it?
It's a wooden pickle.
-Why'd you paint it brown?|-It's not paint.
It's blood from when I cut|my hand making it for you.
Oh.
Well, shit, kid, I don't know.
I...
Thanks.
You're welcome.
Good night, Santa.
Good night, Mrs. Santa's sister.
Good night, sweetie.
Oh, my God.
That was so sweet.
He's a really sweet kid,|isn't he?
Yeah, I guess so.
Come on, baby.
Come here.
What?
Oh, nothing.|I'm all right.
Just a little tired.
Oh.
Santa!
God damn it!|Whoa! Shit!
Want to see my report card?
You scared the holy shit|out of me.
Think I did good?
How would I know? I haven't seen|the fuckin' thing yet.
Who the fuck is Thurman?
-Is your name Thurman?|-Yeah.
Thurman Merman?
Yeah.
Jesus.
So, you think I did good?
What do you care|what I think, anyway?
Hell, I guess you did better|than I did.
I never got any B's.
I thought maybe at least|since I did good in school,
maybe you'd bring me a present.
'Cause last year|and the year before that,
you didn't bring me|any presents.
Even though I'm a dipshit loser.
Jesus fucking Christ, kid!
Why do you talk about|yourself that way?!
Let me give you some news.|I'm not Santa Claus, all right?
Take a look at me.|Do I look like Santa Claus?
As a matter of fact,|I'm living fucking proof
that there's not a Santa Claus.
I know there's no Santa.
I just thought maybe you'd|want to give me a present
'cause we're friends.
There he is.
That lousy, leather-faced,|frog-eyed, motherfucker.
-Good night, Gin.|-Good night.
Jesus, Mother Mary, and Joseph.
What is the problem now?
I'm sorry.|The van stalled.
Will you give us a jump, please?
I'll be dipped in dog shit.
Do I look like|an auto mechanic to you?
I appreciate it.
All right, small fry,|help yourself.
I can't reach it.
Jesus Christ, give me that.
Thanks.
All right, hit it.
Oh, my.|What a terrible accident.
Mm-mm-mmm.
-Is he dead?|-No.
But it looks like|you broke most of his ribs.
I'd say maybe 50% of them,|or do you think 30%?
I needed more|of a running start.
I couldn't build up|enough speed.
Merry Christmas Eve.
Got you a little something.
You shouldn't have.
You should put that stuff|in the kitchen.
God damn, you look good.
Here you go.
Little behind there, sweetie?
We don't need any more|of this shit.
"Christmas keeps us connected|to each other in peace.
The angel is going to tell|everyone in the world."
Aspirin?
As in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends|who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more
Through the years,|we all will be together
If the fates allow
Until then, we'll have to|muddle through somehow
So have yourself|a merry little Christmas now
Through the years,|we all will be together
If the fates allow
Hang a shining star|upon the highest bough
And have yourself
A merry little Christmas
Now
Shit!
Jesus.
Santa?
-What?|-I was gonna make sandwiches.
I could make you one|before you leave.
Listen, kid, I don't know.
I got shit to do and everything.
Okay, make me some sandwiches.
I gotta go to the mall|and talk to somebody.
I'll be back.
For dinner?
Yeah, that's what I said.|Yeah.
How many sandwiches do you want?
Uh, a bunch.
How much lettuce do you want?
I don't know.|The usual amount.
Whatever the hell people do.|Whatever you think.
Okay.
Have a very merry Christmas.
-Merry Christmas.|-Good night.
Merry Christmas.
Good night.
-Good night.|-Okay! Happy holiday!
Attention, shoppers.
The store will be closing|in five minutes.
We wish you all|a merry Christmas,
a happy Hanukkah,|and a joyous Kwanzaa.
All right, hold it steady.
Oh, yeah, shit, let's do it.
Oh, Christ.
Merry Christmas.
Good night.
Merry Christmas, Willie.
Up your ass.
Aaaah!
Whoa!
Oh, shit.
What?
What?
It's a Kitnerboy Redoubt.
So?
Remember Andy Pitz?
Andy Pitzorella?|Yeah.
No, Andy Ripitski.
Andy Pitzorella|was Andy Blue Balls.
Since he got married,|they call him Andy Pitzorella.
What's your fucking point?!
They say he can get|into anything.
Anything.
They say he's been|in Margaret Thatcher's pussy.
And that's a good thing?
So what the fuck|are you getting at?
When I was|in the joint with him,
he told me that the Kitnerboy|Redoubt can't be cracked.
Are you shittin' me?
Are you telling me|that after I propped you up,
held you together,|smiled for all those kids,
danced for all those|fucking housewives
in a fucking lime-green,|fucking velvet elf costume,
that you cannot|get in this fucking safe?!
Is that what you're|telling me?! Huh?!
No, I'm just saying|it's gonna take a minute.
Fuck.
Shit.
Fuck!
Piece of cake.
I gotta get one more thing.|I'll be right back.
Oh, shit.|Which one did he say?
I'll bet the store dick|don't want this.
Store dick don't want shit.
What do you mean?
Store dick's dead.
Store dick don't want shit.
He's dead, huh?
I didn't even know he was sick.
Willie...
this has been|a long time coming.
Every year, you're worse.|Every year, less reliable.
More booze.|More bullshit.
More buttfucking.
Sure, the three B's.
You gotta be able to rely,|Willie.
You people are monsters.
There's no joy in this for me.
I'm not talking about|you taking me out.
That part, I get.
But look at all that shit.
Do you really need|all that shit?
For Christ sakes,|it's Christmas.
It is Christmas, Willie.
But this is what we do.
We get the shit.
Christmastime, we get the shit.
Because we are men and Lois.
It is Christmas, Willie.
And we are men and Lois.
What you waiting for, honey?
Come on, plug him.
Goodbye, Willie.
-Drop the gun.|-Huh?!
And you, Santa,|drop the elephant.
-Where did you come from?|-Tipped off.
Shit, that fucking kid.
All three of you are in so much|shit, it's almost unbelievable.
Marcus, hop on!
Fuck me.
Hey, hey!
This is Christmas, and the kid's|getting his fucking present.
Halt, police!|Put your hands up!
I said freeze!|Freeze!
-Aaaah!|-Aaaah!
"Dear kid...
I hope that you got my present
and that there wasn't|too much blood on it,
although there was blood|on the present you gave me,
which didn't keep me|from enjoying it.
So maybe the blood doesn't|matter so much, I guess. "
"Anyway, just in case|they took it as evidence,
I'm also sending you a T-shirt.
I hope it's the right size. "
"I'm healing up good,
and they tell me|that I will soon be 100%,
even with 8 bullets|dug out of me,
because they didn't hit|any vital organs,
just my liver,|which is fucked anyway.
Ha ha ha.
Thank you for giving|that letter to the cops.
I forgot I asked you to do it,|but it's a good thing you did
or Santa's little helper|would've plugged his ass.
Now the cops know I wrote it,
which is gonna keep my ass|out of jail.
That, plus everyone agreeing
that the Phoenix police|shooting an unarmed Santa
was even more fucked up|than Rodney King. "
"The cops are treating me|like fucking royalty now,
which is new in my experience.
They're gonna make me|a sensitivity counselor
so that tragedies like this
will never again embarrass|the whole fucking department.
I told the cops you had no one|to take the fuck care of you,
so they set it up|with Mrs. Santa's sister
watching you|till your dad gets back
in one year and three months.
They made her a guardian|pro tem or some such shit.
Anyway, she seems to like you|and your house and Jacuzzi.
I sent her some money,
so if you play|your cards right,
you can probably get her|to buy you something.
As for my little helper,|I'm sorry to have to tell you
that him and his|prune-faced, mail-order wife
are gonna be exploring|mountains with your dad.
I hope your dad doesn't go|sucking shit from them
like I did.
They're supposed to let me|out of this hospital room soon,
so get some sandwiches ready.
Until then, don't take|no shit from nobody,
least of all yourself.
Ho ho ho.
Your pal, Santa. "
Hey, loser.
I hear your buddy's not here|to protect you anymore.
See you got me a new bike.
Thanks a lot.
I'm talking to you, fat-ass!
Aaah!
And it wouldn't be Christmas|without you
Can't fool me,|I know it's true
Merry Christmas,|merry la la la
And it wouldn't be Christmas|without you
Can't fool me,|I know it's true
Merry Christmas,|merry la la la
Making my friends|out of snow
It's Christmas,|and I'm all alone
But it won't bring me down
'Cause Christmas cheer|is all around
And it wouldn't be Christmas|without you
Can't fool me,|I know it's true
Merry Christmas,|merry la la la
And it wouldn't be Christmas|without you
Can't fool me,|I know it's true
Merry Christmas,|merry la la la
Santa Claus is flying high|across the frosty winter sky
I'm gonna find him|and my toys
He's in a band|that just makes noise
And it wouldn't be Christmas|without you
Can't fool me,|I know it's true
Merry Christmas,|merry la la la
And it wouldn't be Christmas|without you
Can't fool me,|I know it's true
Merry Christmas,|merry la la la
Christmas
The snow's coming down
Christmas
I'm watching it fall
Christmas
Watching the people around
Christmas
Baby, please come home
They're singing|"Deck the Halls"
But it's not like|Christmas at all
I remember|when you were here
And all the fun|we had last year
- Baby, please come home|- Christmas
- Ohhhhh|- Christmas
- Baby, please come home|- Christmas
- Baby|- Christmas
I've been to prison once.
I've been married twice.
I was once drafted by|Lyndon Johnson and had to live
in shit-ass Mexico for two|and a half years for no reason.
I've had my eye socket|punched in, a kidney taken out,
and I got a bone chip in my|ankle that's never gonna heal.
I've seen some pretty shitty|situations in my life.
But nothing has ever sucked|more ass than this.
If I'd known I was gonna have to|put up with screaming brats
pissing on my lap for 30 days|out of the year,
I would have killed myself|a long time ago.
Come to think of it,|I still might.
Where I come from,|we didn't celebrate Christmas.
Not because we were Jewish,|but because my dad
was a worthless-coward fucking|asshole whose idea of a present
was a daily punch|to the back of the head.
He did teach me|how to crack a safe, though.
My dad never did shit with his|life, so he took it out on me.
You could say I'm no different.|I'd have to say you were right.
But at this point,|it's too late to start over.
Funny how things work out.
It's fucking hilarious.
There's Santa Claus.|Look there.
Wow.
Oh, my.|What a darling photo.
Are you certain you only want|the single?
Additional photos come in handy|as gifts for Grandma and Grandpa
or as a wonderful remembrance|for friends.
Gee.|You know what?
This one, I think it's more|than enough.
Thanks.|Merry Christmas.
So, what do you want,|little girl?
A drum set.
Oh, the old man will love that.
Okay. Fine.|See you later.
I saw you at another mall.
Well, I'm very happy for you.
You're not really Santa.
If you were Santa,|you could do magic.
You want to see some magic?
Here.|Let's watch you disappear.
Watch the bladder, kid.|Santa's got to pee.
-What do you want?|-A new bike.
Wow. That's a new one.|Excellent.
Attention, shoppers.
The store will be closing|in five minutes.
We hope tomorrow is|a pleasant Christmas.
Thank you for shopping with us.
-Is that it?|-Yeah, that's the last one.
Thank the fuck Christ.
Jesus, Mother Mary, and Joseph.
You pissed yourself.
Aw, Jesus.
Yeah, all right.
Yeah.
Hey, happy holidays.|All right.
Merry Christmas.
Happy holidays.
Get home safe.
Yeah, okay.
I don't care what he says.
-We're going out for a beer.|-What the fuck?
I'll get right back to you.
What the hell's wrong with you?|I'm trying to fucking leave.
Pants are awful baggy.
You got anything in there?
Yeah. My dick.|You want to see it?
Keep pushing me.
I got my eyes on you.
All the time.
Ready.
Jesus.
-How's it going?|-I'm finished when I'm finished.
I'm going back upstairs.
I need a melon baller|and a loofah.
Got it.
Fuck the loofah.|Let's go.
Marcus, you get the loofah?
Drive.
Oh!
jingle bell rock
in jingle bell time
Oh, I'm dizzy.|Put me down.
Hey, put me down.
Come on!|Put me down.
Oh, come on.
Oh, man.
Hey, baby, two more of these,|all right?
No.|That's it for me.
You can't drink worth a shit,|you know that?
I weigh 92 pounds, you dick.
Come on. One more.|It's a celebration.
Here's to you.
To have the blues
My baby's gone
You're getting worse,|you know that?
Well, at least I got it open.
It took you long enough.
I remember when you could unlock|a lock like it was nothing.
Yeah, well, you don't have to|worry about me anymore.
I'm out.
Bullshit.
Bullshit, my ass.
We just made $111,000|in one night.
Exactly. I figure I got enough|to go to Miami.
And do what?
I don't know. Shit.|Get a car.
Get a place, maybe.
Maybe start a business.|A bar out on the beach.
Something like that.
I could quit drinking|and run the place.
Maybe marry a waitress.
What?
You ain't gonna do shit|except go down there
and drink your fucking ass off.
You're gonna piss|everything away
and end up counting the days|till next Christmas.
You'd like that, wouldn't you?
Well, it ain't gonna happen.
If I call you next December --
if I call you next December --
you're gonna be so happy|to hear from me
you're gonna do|a goddamn backflip.
You're gonna put|that Santa hat on so fast
that you're gonna get|fucking hat-burn.
Can I get you guys two more?
No, thanks.|We're all right.
See?
I'm already on the wagon.
Hey. Asshole!
How many times|I got to tell you?
Get out from behind my bar!
Put the drink down right now.
Put the drink down right now!
Ahh.|Fuck you.
-Fuck me, huh?|-Right.
Oh. Hey!
Ow!
Get the fuck out of my bar.
Fuck you!
You're fucking crazy.
Fucking prick.
Asshole!
Get the fuck out of here|right now!
jolly Christmas
And in case you didn't hear
have a holly jolly --
Fucking shit!
Fuck you!
Fuck you!
Fuck you!
Yeah, baby.
Hey, Tiffany, you want to play|"Hide the Nazi" one day?
God damn it.
Here you go, sweetie.
I got something|for your pretty ass.
-You do?|-Yeah.
Wow. $5.
Thanks.
I gotta listen to my messages,|and you need to take a shower.
I'm a dancer.|I sweat.
Yeah, well, you smell like|a bum's nut sac.
Fuck you.
Message one.
Mr. Soke?
This is Andrew Kaplan again,|from the collection agency.
Message two.
This is Dolores Axelrod.
You ran into my car last week.
I called State Farm,
but they have no record|of any insurance policy for you.
In case you misplaced it,|my phone number is 4 --
Message three.
Willie, it's Marcus.|It's that time of year again.
Pack your shit.|Phoenix.
is frightful
is so delightful
to go
let it snow
of stopping
for popping
way down low
Let it snow, let it snow
Jesus Christ!
Can you maybe keep it together|for just 10 minutes?
Harrison, just let me explain,|please. Financially --
Well, you get what you paid for,|Chipeska.
Five Christmases I've been here.
You flip me for some stranger|who'll do it for peanuts
and who happens to work|with a real midget.
Nobody cares.|Nobody comes here for the elf.
Santa's the attraction.
I do Burl lves songs.
Does this schmo|even play guitar?
Look, Harrison, it's not about|the money or the midget.
Believe me, if it was, I --
I don't think they like|"midget."
I think you're supposed to|call them...
Oh, just forget it.
Hacks!
Hi.
Bob Chipeska.|Welcome.
Great photo and rsum,|by the way.
Thanks.
We've been at this|a long time and all.
We'd like to think we do|a good job.
I'm so glad you guys could|come in on such short notice.
I must say,|your look is just sensational.
Thanks.
We've been at this for years.|You got nothing to worry about.
You two are the best men|for this job, truly.
So don't let his unpleasantness|affect your performance.
-Oh, no. We're fine.|-Performance?
Yes. Uh, your performance.|You know, the, um...
Performance, like sexual?
-Excuse me?|-Willie.
Are you saying there's|something wrong with my gear?
Is that what you're saying?
-I'm sorry. Your gear?|-Willie.
My fuck stick.
Hey, Willie.|Take a seat.
You know how|your blood sugar is.
He's not going to say "fuck|stick" in front of the children?
No, no, no.|It's a joke.
An adult joke for us adults.
It's a joke.|Just a joke.
"Fuck stick"?
Yes. I thought it was|very strange, too.
So, as our security chief,
I wanted you to be aware.
But his little friend promised|he wouldn't say it
in front of the children,|which is fine.
Because, you know,|there is an adult world
and a child's world,|and that's okay.
I'm no censor.
"Little friend"?
Yes, he happens to be a dwarf.
Or midget.
I don't know|what he's called exactly.
But, uh, he's a little guy.
Little Billy Barty.|God rest.
But thin fingers.
Not the fat sausage fingers.
"Little people."|That's what they like.
Yes. Uh, right.|Little people.
So "fuck stick."|That's it?
Yeah.
Merry Christmas!|Santa's coming. Yay!
Merry Christmas!|Santa's coming. Yay!
Merry Christmas!
Have you seen that new Santa|they just hired?
Yeah.|He's back there drunk.
He's coming, guys.|Santa will be here real soon.
God damn it!
What the fuck you doing?|You blow this, and we're broke.
So stop acting|like you know something.
'Cause, pal of mine,|you don't know squat!
Now, put on your hat|and get out there.
And try to act professional,|for Christ's sakes.
What do you want?
What?
Get out of here.
Next.
Next.
Oh, good.|What do you want?
What do you want?|What are you doing?
God damn it!
Nintendo Deer Hunter 3.
I don't give a shit|what you want.
Blowing snot all over everybody|and fucking whatever.
Next.|Come on.
What do you want?
-Um, Santa?|-Yeah, I'm Santa.
Come on.|What do you want?
-Um, Barbie.|-Say cheese.
Okay. Fine.|Barbie.
Oh, thank you.
Ow! Watch the toenails, kid!|Shit.
Next.
Next!
What do you want?
Fraggle-Stick car.
What the fuck is that?
Fraggle-Stick car.
Well, I heard you.|Fraggle-Stick car. Fine.
Hey, check out this loser.
Hey, fat-ass.|How you doing today?
Hey, loser.
Hey, dipshit.
Moron.
Hey, loser.|How you doing today?
Dumb-ass,|why don't you turn around?
You know what?|Fuck this.
You're next.
Next.
I said next, God damn it.|This is not the DMV, all right?
Move it along.
What's your name?|You can tell me.
I know.|How about Santa?
If you don't tell him,|you won't get a present.
That's right.
Come on and tell Santa|all about it.
What do you want?
Well, come on.|What do you want?
A snot-rag?
Great.|Another fucking Mongoloid.
Marcus, get this kid off me|before he pisses on me.
Don't fuck with my beard.
It's not real.
No shit.
Well, it was real.
But, you see, I got sick|and all the hair fell out.
How did you get sick?
I loved a woman|who wasn't clean.
Mrs. Santa?
No.|It was her sister.
What's it like|at the North Pole?
Like the suburbs.
Which one?
Apache Junction.
What the fuck do you care?|Now, get off my lap.
You sit there|like a fucking retard.
You are really Santa, right?
No.|I'm an accountant.
I wear this fucking thing as|a fashion statement, all right?
Okay.
Get this kid out of here.|He's freaking me out.
I got to get a drink on.|I'll see you tomorrow.
Just don't come into work|stinking of booze again.
Yeah.|Why don't you get going?
You'll be late for your|"Wizard of Oz" Candy Bar Guild.
Lollipop Guild, you asshole.|Jesus!
Two-year-olds flip me shit|better than you.
You saying something to me?
Yeah. I'm gonna stick|my whole fist up your ass.
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
in a one-horse open sleigh
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
in a one-horse open sleigh
in a one-horse open sleigh
laughing all the way
making spirits bright
What?
sing a sleighing song tonight
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Mmm.
Another Grand-Dad, Santa?
Yeah.
Yeah?
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
Got a name?
Yeah.
So, what do you do, you know...
After the holidays, I mean.
Well, nothing till March,|and then I'm the Easter Bunny.
Oh. Another?
Yeah. Why not?
Merry Christmas.
Not a big talker.
No, not really.
-Buy you one?|-Why not?
Happy New Year.
You're pretty regular|for a Santa.
It's not that big|a fucking deal.
It's just a job,|you know what I mean?
I'm an eating, drinking,|shitting, fucking Santy Claus.
Prove it.
Fuck me, Santa.|Fuck me, Santa.
Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa.|Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa.
Fuck me, Santa.|Fuck me, Santa!
Can't I at least take|this hat off?
No. I love the hat.
Okay.
Whoo!
I've always had a thing|for Santa Claus.
In case you didn't notice.
It's like some deep-seated|childhood thing.
So is my thing for tits.
Yeah.|It is like that, though.
From when you're a kid.
'Cause my dad was Jewish,|and we didn't have Christmas.
So it was like|this forbidden thing.
So...
I like you.
Don't mothball that suit.
What the fuck?
I am not gay.
-What the hell, buddy?|-Buddy?
I said I am not gay.
Are you off your fucking meds|or something?
Yes.
But that isn't|what this is about.
You're as queer as a $10 bill.
Let me tell you something,|motherfucker.
My brother lost a goddamn arm|fighting you fuckers in Vietnam.
So I want you to look at my face|one last fucking time.
This is the last thing you're|ever gonna see before I --
Elf fucker!
-Motherfucker!|-Turn around, elf fucker.
Who's the bitch now,|Santy Claus? Huh?
Faggy Claus!|Faggy!
Leave Santa alone!
Little boy, don't interfere.|I am doing this for all of us.
Leave Santa alone!
Ass clown.
Hey, you're that kid.
What the fuck are you|doing here?
This one fucking time|I take you home, okay?
Uh-huh.
I'm not your fucking dada.
Uh-huh.
It's not like you helped me|with that nutjob or anything.
-Uh-huh.|-You're the right height.
You're right there|to grab his balls.
-You could twist them.|-Why do you need a car?
-What?|-This car.
Which turn is it?
Sage Terrace.|Where's your sleigh?
It's in the shop,|getting repaired.
-Where are the reindeer?|-I stabled them.
Is it left or right?
That way.
Where's the stable?
-Next to the shop.|-How do they sleep?
Who? The reindeer?|Standing up.
But the noise.|How do they sleep?
-What noise?|-From the shop.
They only work during the day,|all right?
I thought it was always night|at the North Pole.
Well, not now.|Right now it's always day.
Then how do they sleep?
-Oh, shit. Sage Terrace.
What is it with you? Somebody|drop you on your fucking head?
On my head?
Are they gonna drop you|on somebody else's head?
How can they drop me|onto my own head?
No, not onto your...|Would...
God damn it!|Are you fucking with me?
Okay.|Which house is it?
That one.
With Jesus and his family|there or what?
No.|The one beside that.
-Right here?|-Yeah. That one.
All right.
Nice digs.
Is Daddy home?
He's on an adventure,|exploring mountains.
He's been gone a long time.
Exploring mountains, huh?|How long is he gonna be gone?
Till next year.
Yeah?|What about Mommy?
She lives in God's house with|Jesus and Mary and the ghost
and the long-eared donkey and|Joseph and the talking walnut.
Well, who the fuck takes care|of you, then?
Grandma.
Yeah?|What's her name?
Grandma.
Is Granny spry?
Everybody!
D-O-L-E, Dole
Banana shuffle
Grandma? Grandma?
Santa's here.
Oh, Roger.|You're home.
Are you spry?
Let me fix you some sandwiches.
Are you telling me|she's the only one here?
Nobody else?
No aunts or cousins or uncles|or anything like that?
A butler or security guard|or something?
Nuh-unh.
You're shitting me.
Does your daddy have a safe?
Need money to fix your sleigh?
Exactly.
You want milk and cookies?
No.
Should I fix you|some sandwiches?
Unh-unh.
Does your daddy have a car?
Bye, Santa!
of little Nell
fill it well
Oh, my!
Keep going.|-Jesus!
Ohh!
Oh, God!
Ooh!
Oh, Zena!|Oh, Mary!
Keep it going.
Jesus Christ!
Yeah, baby.|Yeah, baby.
You ain't gonna|shit right for a week.
Oh!
-Yeah, buddy!|-Yeah!
-Whoo!
It won't happen again.|I can promise you that.
Willie here has low blood sugar.|That's all.
That's right.|I forgot to take my pill.
It's not just the swearing.
Um...
Forgive me for prying.
But did one of you, um...
fornicate...
Fornicate?
Yes, with a heavyset woman|in the Big & Tall dressing room.
Look, I've boned a lot|of fat chicks in my time, sure.
But as far as I can recall,|I've never fornicated anybody.
Yes, well, even still,
I think it's best for|all parties considered if we --
If we what?
Well, I have someone else|interested in the position.
Before you do something stupid,
you may want to think|about this shit.
What are you talking about?
I'm talking about firing|a little black midget.
A colored, African-American|small person.
That's what I'm talking about.
I'm talking about your face|all over goddamn "USA Today."
I'm talking about 150|of these little motherfuckers
all over the sidewalk out there.
Little picket signs,|chanting and raving.
Using little bullhorns|and shit like that.
Screaming and hollering|your name out.
Unfair practices.|Get me?
No. No, no.|This is not a handicap thing.
I have nothing|against you people.
"You people"?
Did you hear that, Marcus?|He said, "You people."
Who the hell is "us people"?
Wait. Wait.|No, no.
I -- You don't under--|What?
He...|No, no.
Um, you know, I think it's best
if we just forget we had|this conversation.
Okay.
Good thinking.
And don't worry about us.|We'll be fine.
Let's get the hell|out of here, Marcus.
You're pathetic.
I dig that little thing|on your belly button.
What's that?|Like a diamond?
It's a belly-button ring.
Oh, yeah?|Hang on a second.
Check this out.
You got to thrust.|See what I'm saying?
You gotta move the ball around.|You go up there, baby.
Come on.
See? Move the ball.|There you go.
Motherfucker!
Oh, you lousy, fucking|motherfucker.
That's the shit|that's gonna get us pinched.
She said she was 18.
But you promised no arcades.
You said you'd only hustle|Big & Tall.
You shat me out of your womb?|You're my fucking mom now?
I don't need|any goddamn lectures.
I know how to keep|a low profile. Thank you.
What the fuck is this,|Mr. Low Profile?
Mind your own goddamn business.
Ever hear of|the open bottle law?
A couple of days ago, I was in,|uh, Women's Big & Tall.
And I heard these...
Um, you know, these noises.
And I heard a woman screaming,|"Yeah. Oh, yeah."
And I heard his voice saying,|"That's right.
You ain't going to S-H-I-T|right for a month."
But don't get me wrong.
I was against|the Clinton impeachment.
What a man does|with his own penis --
Oval Office,|Women's Big & Tall --
it's not for|the American people to say.
Yeah, right.
But when you're dealing|with children...
They have a tender sensibility.
And you are in a position|of trust.
I think perhaps someone who has|screaming orgasms
with large women shouldn't...
Yeah.
Of course,|I can't fire him for that.
Oh, yeah.|Unfair practices.
Special pleading.|Bitch, bitch, bitch.
Fucking broads.
But I just can't help it.
There's something about the guy|that makes me uneasy.
Well, sure.
Santa fucking someone|in the ass.
-So...
Maybe there's something|I could fire him for.
Yeah, I get you.
Do you?
Do you think|you could find something?
Shit, yeah.|There's always something.
Shit.
Hey, Opal.|Come here.
Unh-unh.
Screw you, Willie,|your kinky ass.
Last time I didn't shit right|for a week.
No, it's not that.|I need to talk to you.
I'm just tired of you, Willie.
Ooh.
Who the fuck is in my room?
Did you see somebody|go in my room?
Yeah.|Some guy asking about you.
Looked like a cop.
Oh, shit.
Marcus, it's Willie.
I just got back to the motel.
Some guy is nosing around|in my room.
What guy?|You get a look at him?
No.|But I think he's a cop, though.
Think somebody's onto us?
Is there anything in the room?|Anything professional?
No, I just got clothes in there.
Just ditch, you idiot.
You got anywhere to sack out|for a while?
-Santa!|-Yeah.
You're bringing|my present early?
No.
But I never told you|what I wanted.
I said I didn't bring it,|dipshit.
Okay. Good.
I want a stuffed elephant.|A pink one.
Wish in one hand,|shit in the other one.
See which one fills up first.
Okay.
So I'm gonna be staying here|for a while.
Things are all fucked up|at the North Pole.
Mrs. Santa caught me|fucking her sister.
And I'm out on my ass now.
She got half of everything.
This is gonna be cool.
This will do fine.
So I'm gonna be crashing here.
It will be just you and me,|like roommates, you know?
Do you and Mrs. Santa have kids?
No.|Thank the fuck Christ.
What about the elves?
Well, they stay with Mrs. Santa.
I get them on the weekends.
Why don't you go run me a bath?
What about the reindeer?
Would you please shut up|about reindeer?
What are their names?
Who?
The elves.
Oh, shit.|I can't remember.
I think one of them is Sneezy.|There's a Dopey.
That's the Seven Dwarfs.
Oh, you're shitting me.
I thought...|I was thinking it was the...
I don't know.|Fuck, kid.
I just call them, "bub."
I say, "Hey, bub" or "chief"|or whatever the fuck.
I tell him to make|the goddamn toy.
What the fuck is wrong|with you?
I can't remember this shit!
Does everything with you|have to be a fucking test?
How old are they?
You want cookies?
No.
Warm milk?
No.
Should I fix you|some sandwiches?
I don't want|any fucking sandwiches.
What is it with you|and fixing fucking sandwiches?
Okay.|Do you want anything else?
No.
Okay.
Santa?
What?
I brought you some orange juice.
What's in it?
Oranges.
Look what I have.
An Advent calendar.
What the hell is that?
It's the story of Christmas,|but in a calendar.
Every day you peel open|a new box.
You get part of the story.
And then there's|a chocolate inside.
Do you want to open up|today's box and read it?
No.|You go ahead.
Jesus Christ, kid.|Watch the nuts.
"So Joseph went up from|the town of Nazareth in Galilee
to Judea, to Bethlehem,|the town of David.
In those days Caesar Augustus|issued a decree
that a census should be taken|of the entire Roman world.
Everyone went to his hometown|to register."
-That it?|-Yep.
That's an awesome|fucking story, kid.
There's more to it, but we|have to wait till tomorrow.
Do you want to eat|the chocolate?
You go ahead.
Are you coming downstairs?
I'll be down in a minute.|I got to go to work.
Fuck me?|Fuck you.
You can't just take up|with some kid.
You don't know who's around|or what they do.
You got some nerve,|you little shit, you.
What, you're my mom now?|You shat me out of your womb?
You said that yesterday,|you stupid fuck.
Shit.
Fuck you.
You are by far the dumbest,
most pathetic piece|of maggot-eating shit
that has ever slid|from a human being's hairy ass.
What if the kid has one of those|fucking playdates they have now?
Are you shitting me?|The kid don't have any friends.
He don't even have an imaginary|friend unless he ditched him.
He lives with his drooling-ass|old grandmother.
Sits in front of the TV|all the time.
You think she's gonna|rat me out?
She don't know her ass|from last Tuesday.
You fuck her?
Jesus Christ.
Is everything fucking sex|with you?
With me?|I fuck one person.
I ain't out there|serial fornicating,
trying to float my liver,|drinking myself silly
'cause I can't stand|what a piece of shit I am.
What are you,|Sigmund Sawed-off Fucking Freud?
Yeah, that's right.
Go ahead.|Talk about my height.
Make it about something safe
'cause you're|an emotional cripple.
Your soul is dog shit.
Every single fucking thing|about you is ugly.
Come on, Lois.|Let's get out of here.
Look who's here, Jimmy.|It's Santa.
That's fucking great.
Let's tell him what you want|for Christmas.
Fuck.
I'm on my fucking|lunch break, okay?
Are you insane?
Management's gonna hear|about this.
You think that's a threat?
If you think you can make my|life any worse, go right ahead.
Be my fucking guest.|Take a shot.
of the year
jingle-belling
"Be of good cheer"
of the year
Just looking.
Aah!
Find everything|you're looking for?
Um, yeah.|Thank you.
Nothing I can help|you with, huh?
No. I'm just looking at|the games 'cause I have an Xbox.
Get your hands|out of my pants, man!
You're stealing from the store,|you're stealing from me.
What is this?
I was gonna pay for it.
Wrong answer.
When I look at you,|you know what I think?
I think America has|a sad future ahead of it.
And you're part|of this sorry-ass generation.
What you want to be|when you grow up?
I don't know.
-This MP3?|-Yeah.
Take it off.
But my grandmother gave --
Take it off. I don't care|who gave it to you.
Take it off.
I don't care if it choke you|to death.
Now, I want you to get on|out of here. Get!
-But can I have...|-Get!
Happy Kwanzaa.
And pull your damn pants up!
What's wrong with you kids|these days?
MAN: Gin?
-Yeah.|-What do you need?
I need you to run a plate|for me.
It's Arizona plates.
Hold on.|Let me get a pen.
Is that it?
For Christ's sake, make a move|and stick with it, would you?
King me.
Son of a bitch!
You lousy, cheating little shit!
You're fucking with me!|You did that on purpose.
You play like the dead lice|are falling off of you,
and then suddenly, you're like|Seabiscuit all over the place.
You're a smartass,|is what you are, kid.
Want to play again?
Howdy.|Herb Gunner.
I live two streets over|on Burning Trail Road.
I don't think we've met.
I'm Uncle Willie.
I'm organizing the decorations|for the subdivision this year.
-You mind if I come in?|-Yeah.
I mean yeah, I mind.
Okay. Uh...
Will you be participating in our|luminarias program this year?
-What the hell is a lunamaria?|-They're luminarias.
Small sacks filled with|about a pound of sand each.
We insert a candle|in the middle, light it,
and the bag glows.
Then we line|all the sidewalks here
all around the neighborhood.
You see, we don't celebrate|Christmas around here, so...
We're, uh, we're Muslims.
Look, it's my first year|running this.
I'd like it if there weren't|any gaps in it.
What if I come by|Christmas Eve and do it for you?
No, you know what?|You don't have to do that.
Yeah, me and the kid here,|we'll do something.
Great.|I got the supplies.
-I'll throw them in the garage.|-Perfect.
Awesome.
Going in the garage,|just so you know.
You can make|a delicious six-pound chicken.
Enough hot dogs and sausages|to feed a small army.
Not one, but two delicious|rotisserie chickens.
Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa.|Fuck me, Santa.
Fuck me, Santa.|Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa.
Scrumptious|6-pound standing rib roast.
And everybody's favorite,|baby back ribs.
This is such a nice house.
Needs a woman's touch, though.
I just rent|the fucking place anyway.
Yeah.|I just rent stuff, too.
Yeah?
How long are you gonna be here?
What? On the couch?
No.
In town.
I don't know.|Just through the holidays.
You know, then I'll move on.
So, do you like kids?
Fuck, no!
Do you think|I'm some kind of pervert?
I just mean because|you're Santa Claus.
Oh.
I like kids.|I really like kids.
-You do?|-I love kids.
Well, good.
Yeah, they're something else,|those kids.
And to tell you the truth...
The fact of the matter is,|I'm not Santa.
Like ya anyway.
So, you'll call me, right?
Yeah.|I'll call you.
I'm gonna buy you some flowers.
Some of those|really good expensive ones.
Shut up.
Bye.
Roger, you're home.
Let me fix you some sandwiches.
What the fuck?
Kid, what the fuck|is wrong with you?
Jesus Christ!
Let me see it!|Let me see it!
What the hell happened to you?!
I cut my hand by mistake!|Ow!
-Of course it was by mistake.|-Ow!
Here, hold still.|Hold still.
I was just trying to help you!
I forgot to say,|"It's gonna sting a little bit."
Shouldn't I wrap it|in a T-shirt or something?
God damn it.
-Hey, kid?
Kid, you okay up there?
You need a Band-Aid|or something?
Aw, shit.
You're late.
Kids.|Let me tell you.
They run you ragged.
Morning, team.
Hey, hey, hey.
It's not quite 8:00 yet.
Well, how close are we?
Now it's 8:00.
Merry Christmas.
Up your ass.
God damn it!
You tear your ball again?
I don't think so.
That's it.
God damn it!
Sweetheart,|don't romance 'em, now.
Go on and get in there.|I can take it.
Yeah.
Gin, I got the info|on that Arizona plate.
All right.|Now you're talking.
Oh, hold on one minute.
Baby, baby. Baby, baby.|Don't use that one.
That's not the stuff.
Use something|with some claws to it.
Yeah, that hard candy.|That's it right there.
Let me get some of that.|Yeah, that's it.
Okay.
Yeah, I'm back.
The guy's Roger Merman.
-Guess where he is.|-Give it to me.
Ow! Damn it!|What's wrong with you, woman?
Who are you?
Your name Roger Merman?
Yes. But...
You doing three to six|for embezzlement?
Uh, well, many accounting|questions are not cut-and-dried.
Do you live at 41 Sage Terrace?
Is it Grandma?
Is my son all right?
They're fine.
Do you have any houseguests?
Houseguests?
Thank you for your time.|God bless.
Well, hey, who are you?
Houseguests?
Little trick I learned|up at the North Pole.
If you fry baloney,|it tastes like a hot dog.
I thought you|didn't like sandwiches.
Yeah, but this|is not a sandwich.
A sandwich has|two pieces of bread
with a bunch of junk on it.
It's like a tostada.
This isn't a tostada.
There you go, Granny.
Little salsa here.
Now it's a tostada.
Have you seen|my Advent calendar?
What the fuck is it|with the Advent calendar?
Why are you so obsessed|with that goddamn thing?
The story sucks anyway.
I think I saw it in the hallway.
-Really?|-I think so.
Looks like someone messed|with my Advent calendar.
What are you talking about?|Let me see.
Nobody messed with it.|It looks fine.
There's a candy corn|in this one.
Well, they can't all be winners,|can they?
Well, it's fucked.
Yeah?
Yeah.
-Fucked, frankly.|-He's...
-Clean...|-Oh.
-As a fucking whistle.|-Nothing?
-No.|-Oh.
-Nothing. I mean shit.|-Yeah.
-He curses.|-Yeah?
-But never around children.|-Oh.
-No criminal record.|-Yeah.
-No parking tickets.|-Nothing.
-No bad habits, even.|-Oh.
Sex, yeah.
-But man is a sexual being.|-Yeah.
-Fuckin' Darwinian.|-Oh.
-You can't do shit about that.|-No.
Hell, I wouldn't want to.
No, of course not.|I'm not advocating celibacy.
Hope not. It'd be the end|of the fucking human race.
Yeah.
Fucks large women.
What can I say?
Hey, look,|it's the retard again.
Wedgie.
-Yeah.|-Yeah.
Well, what the hell do you want?
Pokmon!
Done.
You probably shouldn't|be digging in your ass.
Santa...
Oh, jeez.
-Is that your underwear?|-Part of it.
Where the hell's the rest of it?
No, actually, don't tell me.|What do you want?
I was thinking I wanted a purple|stuffed elephant, not pink.
But now I changed my mind.
-Yeah, what?|-Now I don't want an elephant.
I want a gorilla named Davey
for beating up the skateboard|kids who pull on my underwear.
He could take his orders|from the talking walnut,
so it wouldn't be my bad thing.
Jesus, kid.
When I was your age,|I didn't need no gorilla,
and I wasn't as big|as one of your legs.
Four kids beat me up|and I went crying to my daddy.
-You know what he did?|-He made it all better?
No, he kicked my ass.|You know why?
'Cause you went to the bathroom|on Mommy's dishes?
What the fuck?
No.
He tried to teach you|not to cry and be a man?
No. It's because he was|a mean, drunk son of a bitch.
When he wasn't busting my ass,
he was putting cigarettes out|on my neck.
The world ain't fair.
You gotta take what you need|when you can get it.
Learn to stand up for yourself.|Quit being a pussy.
Kick these kids|in the balls or something.
Or don't.|Shit, I don't care.
Just leave me out of it.|Now, get on out of here.
Okay.|Thanks, Santa.
Go get the next lucky boy|or girl, okay?
All right, next.
Open the ropes there, Marcus.
I know you?
Not yet.
Seven cities in seven years.
Pretty impressive.
The store changes,|your name changes.
But you always get away clean.
Yeah.
Pretty darn impressive.
Well, let's face the facts.
Y'all are a couple|of half-bucket small-timers.
You, because of your physical|attributes, found a niche,
and I respect that.
But you also been caught...
...by me.
So this is how it's gonna be.
I don't want to take over.
I don't even want to change|your scam.
Whatever you guys do, it works.
All I want is a taste.
When the deed is done,|we part ways.
I'll buy a little ranch|in Havasu,
and you all take your little|medicine show back on the road.
-How much?|-Half.
No way! You don't know|who you're fucking with.
Back off, Will.|I got this. I got this!
Okay. 30%.
There's three of us.|30%. That's fair.
Half.
I meant 33%...
I meant half.
...and 1/3.
Half.
Half.
Half.
Half.
Half.
Half.
Half.
Well, what's one point?
We split the dough|right down the middle.
Any merchandise you take, I get|to look at and cherry-pick.
No! Money's one thing,|but you ain't gettin' the --
This ain't no Chinese menu,|jagoff.
I tell you how it's gonna be.
This is pricks fix.
Pricks fix?
He's a fucking moron.
Oh, really?
Is that how you got|the upper hand?
Fuck you.
Negotiating?
If you don't like,|next year, fuck off.
I can always get|another box jockey.
I can get another midget, too.
Yeah, where?
You see us hanging off of trees|like fucking crab apples?
Even if we did, you'd never|front your own racket.
You know why, Willie?|You got no discipline.
You got zero fuckin' initiative.|You'd fall apart without me.
You're too pathetic for words.
You're a fucking loser,|and you fucking know it.
in a one-horse sleigh
pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and mingle|in the jinglin' beat
That's the jingle bell rock
Santa'll be here real soon,|kids. Real soon.
Jingle bells chime|in jingle bell time
There he is.|Look.
ln jingle bell square
Oh, no.
What a bright time,|it's the right time
To rock the night away
Oh, my God!
Is a swell time
To go glidin'|in a one-horse sleigh
Giddyup, jingle horse,|pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and mingle|in the jinglin' beat...
Sweet Jews for Jesus.
I pissed myself.
What the fuck|do you think you doing?
You son of a bitch!
Hey, hey, hey.|Hey, hey.
Hey, come on, come on.
Look, hey!|Come on, come on!
Look here.|Get him out of here.
I'll smooth things over|with Chipeska.
-Tell him food poisoning.|-"Get him out of here"?
Take him to the car.
In case you hadn't noticed,|I'm a motherfuckin' dwarf.
So unless you got|a forklift handy,
maybe you should|lend a hand, hmm?
That figures. You want|all kind of set-asides.
Special treatment|'cause you're handicapped.
You all the same.
Special treatment?
I'm 3-foot-fucking-tall,|you asshole!
It's a matter of physics.
Draw me a sketch of how|I get him to the car, huh?
Bitch, bitch, bitch.
Sketch it up, you moron.
Fucking Leonardo da Vinci.
What you call me, thigh high?
I called you|a fucking guinea homo
from the 1 5th-fucking-century,|you dickhead!
I could stick you up my ass,|small fry.
Yeah? You sure it ain't|too sore from last night?
You got some lip on you, midget.
Well, these lips were on|your wife's pussy last night.
Why don't you dust that|thing off once in a while?
Asshole.
I pissed my pants.
Oh, shut up.
Santa.
Santa?
What?
What are you doing?
Nothing.
You going to work today?
Not really.
You just gonna sit there?
Yeah.
Just let me alone, okay?
Hey, wait a minute.|Hey, kid?
Yeah?
I want you to take this letter.
When the paramedics come|to bag Santa up,
there's gonna be|some cops there.
I want you to make sure that|those cops get that envelope.
What is it?
It just tells|all the bad things that...
What the fuck happened|to your eye?
Fucking little prick!
So you like to give little kids|black eyes, huh?
How 'bout you, huh?!|You want some?!
Anybody else?|Anybody else? Come on!
Yeah, there you go.
You know, I think|I've turned a corner.
Yeah?|You fucking petites now?
No. I'm not talking about that.
I beat the shit|out of some kids today.
But it was for a purpose.
It made me feel good|about myself.
It was like I did something|constructive with my life.
I don't know.
Like I accomplished something.
You need many years of therapy.
Many, many, many|fuckin' years of therapy.
Okay. You don't drink,|which is smart on your part.
But being sober can put you|at a disadvantage
when it comes to violence.
I can't box worth a shit, see.
But I'm good in a fight|because I can't feel anything.
You, you're gonna feel|everything.
Okay.
Now put your dukes up.|Let me see what you got.
This is bullshit!
Give me one good reason why l|should even consider doing this.
'Cause I let 2,000 kids|spit in my face for your ass.
That's why.
Now, I'm asking you|for this one thing.
Come on, look at the kid.
He is pathetic.
Yeah, he's just a little...
He's a fucking retard.
Yeah, let's show him|a couple of things
so he can defend himself, then.
Unless you're scared.
All right,|here's what's gonna happen.
Marcus is a bully, right?
He's gonna pull your underwear|up out of your pants.
Now, what do you do?
I don't know.
God damn it!|You don't know?
If somebody wants to pull your|underwear up out of your pants,
you have to get mad.
Yeah, kid, come on.|Get mad.
Scream at him.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Listen at him.|He's a fucking faggot.
Loud! Scream!
Be loud! Be mean!
Piss him off!|Come on!
Aah!
You don't|hit people in the balls,
you asshole!
Aah!
What the fuck's wrong with you?|He's just a kid.
-Fuck you, Willie!|-Ow!
God damn it.
I told you|I didn't want to do this!
Making me...|Ohh!
Oh, shit.
Kid, maybe you shouldn't spend|so much time around me.
You sneaky little prick.
Fuck you!|Little bastard!
Get off me!
Shut up. That's not even|what you said.
Oh, God damn it,|I forgot about that.
We got a fucking nursing home|around here.
Well, we can go in another room.
She does look kind of still,|doesn't she?
Hey, Granny?
Hey, Granny.
Hey, there, Granny?
Oh, Granny.
Oh, my God.
What the fuck?
Oh, shit.
-Roger!|-God!
-God damn it! Shit!|-You're home.
-Please just tap me.|-Let me fix some sandwiches.
Hello, little boy.
Hello.|Santa...
I know that Christmas Eve|is in a couple days,
and you have to fly around|the world
and give presents to everyone,|and you won't be around anymore.
Yeah?
So I thought I'd give you|your present now.
What the fuck is it?
It's a wooden pickle.
-Why'd you paint it brown?|-It's not paint.
It's blood from when I cut|my hand making it for you.
Oh.
Well, shit, kid, I don't know.
I...
Thanks.
You're welcome.
Good night, Santa.
Good night, Mrs. Santa's sister.
Good night, sweetie.
Oh, my God.
That was so sweet.
He's a really sweet kid,|isn't he?
Yeah, I guess so.
Come on, baby.
Come here.
What?
Oh, nothing.|I'm all right.
Just a little tired.
Oh.
Santa!
God damn it!|Whoa! Shit!
Want to see my report card?
You scared the holy shit|out of me.
Think I did good?
How would I know? I haven't seen|the fuckin' thing yet.
Who the fuck is Thurman?
-Is your name Thurman?|-Yeah.
Thurman Merman?
Yeah.
Jesus.
So, you think I did good?
What do you care|what I think, anyway?
Hell, I guess you did better|than I did.
I never got any B's.
I thought maybe at least|since I did good in school,
maybe you'd bring me a present.
'Cause last year|and the year before that,
you didn't bring me|any presents.
Even though I'm a dipshit loser.
Jesus fucking Christ, kid!
Why do you talk about|yourself that way?!
Let me give you some news.|I'm not Santa Claus, all right?
Take a look at me.|Do I look like Santa Claus?
As a matter of fact,|I'm living fucking proof
that there's not a Santa Claus.
I know there's no Santa.
I just thought maybe you'd|want to give me a present
'cause we're friends.
There he is.
That lousy, leather-faced,|frog-eyed, motherfucker.
-Good night, Gin.|-Good night.
Jesus, Mother Mary, and Joseph.
What is the problem now?
I'm sorry.|The van stalled.
Will you give us a jump, please?
I'll be dipped in dog shit.
Do I look like|an auto mechanic to you?
I appreciate it.
All right, small fry,|help yourself.
I can't reach it.
Jesus Christ, give me that.
Thanks.
All right, hit it.
Oh, my.|What a terrible accident.
Mm-mm-mmm.
-Is he dead?|-No.
But it looks like|you broke most of his ribs.
I'd say maybe 50% of them,|or do you think 30%?
I needed more|of a running start.
I couldn't build up|enough speed.
Merry Christmas Eve.
Got you a little something.
You shouldn't have.
You should put that stuff|in the kitchen.
God damn, you look good.
Here you go.
Little behind there, sweetie?
We don't need any more|of this shit.
"Christmas keeps us connected|to each other in peace.
The angel is going to tell|everyone in the world."
Aspirin?
As in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends|who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more
Through the years,|we all will be together
If the fates allow
Until then, we'll have to|muddle through somehow
So have yourself|a merry little Christmas now
Through the years,|we all will be together
If the fates allow
Hang a shining star|upon the highest bough
And have yourself
A merry little Christmas
Now
Shit!
Jesus.
Santa?
-What?|-I was gonna make sandwiches.
I could make you one|before you leave.
Listen, kid, I don't know.
I got shit to do and everything.
Okay, make me some sandwiches.
I gotta go to the mall|and talk to somebody.
I'll be back.
For dinner?
Yeah, that's what I said.|Yeah.
How many sandwiches do you want?
Uh, a bunch.
How much lettuce do you want?
I don't know.|The usual amount.
Whatever the hell people do.|Whatever you think.
Okay.
Have a very merry Christmas.
-Merry Christmas.|-Good night.
Merry Christmas.
Good night.
-Good night.|-Okay! Happy holiday!
Attention, shoppers.
The store will be closing|in five minutes.
We wish you all|a merry Christmas,
a happy Hanukkah,|and a joyous Kwanzaa.
All right, hold it steady.
Oh, yeah, shit, let's do it.
Oh, Christ.
Merry Christmas.
Good night.
Merry Christmas, Willie.
Up your ass.
Aaaah!
Whoa!
Oh, shit.
What?
What?
It's a Kitnerboy Redoubt.
So?
Remember Andy Pitz?
Andy Pitzorella?|Yeah.
No, Andy Ripitski.
Andy Pitzorella|was Andy Blue Balls.
Since he got married,|they call him Andy Pitzorella.
What's your fucking point?!
They say he can get|into anything.
Anything.
They say he's been|in Margaret Thatcher's pussy.
And that's a good thing?
So what the fuck|are you getting at?
When I was|in the joint with him,
he told me that the Kitnerboy|Redoubt can't be cracked.
Are you shittin' me?
Are you telling me|that after I propped you up,
held you together,|smiled for all those kids,
danced for all those|fucking housewives
in a fucking lime-green,|fucking velvet elf costume,
that you cannot|get in this fucking safe?!
Is that what you're|telling me?! Huh?!
No, I'm just saying|it's gonna take a minute.
Fuck.
Shit.
Fuck!
Piece of cake.
I gotta get one more thing.|I'll be right back.
Oh, shit.|Which one did he say?
I'll bet the store dick|don't want this.
Store dick don't want shit.
What do you mean?
Store dick's dead.
Store dick don't want shit.
He's dead, huh?
I didn't even know he was sick.
Willie...
this has been|a long time coming.
Every year, you're worse.|Every year, less reliable.
More booze.|More bullshit.
More buttfucking.
Sure, the three B's.
You gotta be able to rely,|Willie.
You people are monsters.
There's no joy in this for me.
I'm not talking about|you taking me out.
That part, I get.
But look at all that shit.
Do you really need|all that shit?
For Christ sakes,|it's Christmas.
It is Christmas, Willie.
But this is what we do.
We get the shit.
Christmastime, we get the shit.
Because we are men and Lois.
It is Christmas, Willie.
And we are men and Lois.
What you waiting for, honey?
Come on, plug him.
Goodbye, Willie.
-Drop the gun.|-Huh?!
And you, Santa,|drop the elephant.
-Where did you come from?|-Tipped off.
Shit, that fucking kid.
All three of you are in so much|shit, it's almost unbelievable.
Marcus, hop on!
Fuck me.
Hey, hey!
This is Christmas, and the kid's|getting his fucking present.
Halt, police!|Put your hands up!
I said freeze!|Freeze!
-Aaaah!|-Aaaah!
"Dear kid...
I hope that you got my present
and that there wasn't|too much blood on it,
although there was blood|on the present you gave me,
which didn't keep me|from enjoying it.
So maybe the blood doesn't|matter so much, I guess. "
"Anyway, just in case|they took it as evidence,
I'm also sending you a T-shirt.
I hope it's the right size. "
"I'm healing up good,
and they tell me|that I will soon be 100%,
even with 8 bullets|dug out of me,
because they didn't hit|any vital organs,
just my liver,|which is fucked anyway.
Ha ha ha.
Thank you for giving|that letter to the cops.
I forgot I asked you to do it,|but it's a good thing you did
or Santa's little helper|would've plugged his ass.
Now the cops know I wrote it,
which is gonna keep my ass|out of jail.
That, plus everyone agreeing
that the Phoenix police|shooting an unarmed Santa
was even more fucked up|than Rodney King. "
"The cops are treating me|like fucking royalty now,
which is new in my experience.
They're gonna make me|a sensitivity counselor
so that tragedies like this
will never again embarrass|the whole fucking department.
I told the cops you had no one|to take the fuck care of you,
so they set it up|with Mrs. Santa's sister
watching you|till your dad gets back
in one year and three months.
They made her a guardian|pro tem or some such shit.
Anyway, she seems to like you|and your house and Jacuzzi.
I sent her some money,
so if you play|your cards right,
you can probably get her|to buy you something.
As for my little helper,|I'm sorry to have to tell you
that him and his|prune-faced, mail-order wife
are gonna be exploring|mountains with your dad.
I hope your dad doesn't go|sucking shit from them
like I did.
They're supposed to let me|out of this hospital room soon,
so get some sandwiches ready.
Until then, don't take|no shit from nobody,
least of all yourself.
Ho ho ho.
Your pal, Santa. "
Hey, loser.
I hear your buddy's not here|to protect you anymore.
See you got me a new bike.
Thanks a lot.
I'm talking to you, fat-ass!
Aaah!
And it wouldn't be Christmas|without you
Can't fool me,|I know it's true
Merry Christmas,|merry la la la
And it wouldn't be Christmas|without you
Can't fool me,|I know it's true
Merry Christmas,|merry la la la
Making my friends|out of snow
It's Christmas,|and I'm all alone
But it won't bring me down
'Cause Christmas cheer|is all around
And it wouldn't be Christmas|without you
Can't fool me,|I know it's true
Merry Christmas,|merry la la la
And it wouldn't be Christmas|without you
Can't fool me,|I know it's true
Merry Christmas,|merry la la la
Santa Claus is flying high|across the frosty winter sky
I'm gonna find him|and my toys
He's in a band|that just makes noise
And it wouldn't be Christmas|without you
Can't fool me,|I know it's true
Merry Christmas,|merry la la la
And it wouldn't be Christmas|without you
Can't fool me,|I know it's true
Merry Christmas,|merry la la la
Christmas
The snow's coming down
Christmas
I'm watching it fall
Christmas
Watching the people around
Christmas
Baby, please come home
They're singing|"Deck the Halls"
But it's not like|Christmas at all
I remember|when you were here
And all the fun|we had last year
- Baby, please come home|- Christmas
- Ohhhhh|- Christmas
- Baby, please come home|- Christmas
- Baby|- Christmas