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- Oh, hey, darlings. I didn't see you there.

Just Michelle Visage here enjoying a cozy night in,

sitting by the fire,

sipping on a brand-sponsored cocktail,

and cracking open one of my favorite holiday classics.

It's a story that's full of holiday spirit,

filled with quirky small-town characters,

and banned in 32 countries for being, quote, "too gay."

So kick your boots off, grab yourself a drink--

if there's anything left--

and enjoy a tale that begins

like all other Christmas stories:

with sweeping shots of New York City.

La-la, la-la, la

- MICHELLE: Twas the week before Christmas

and all through New York,

everyone was feeling the spirit,

except one lady hard at work.

- Take this up to publishing, size 80 headline.

Something splashy like,

"Twelve Skirts That Say I'm a Slut,

but I Kind of Know Math."

- Hey, queen. - Tristan.

Is that my favorite gay coworker?

- Does this answer your question?

- Ah, it's so gay! I love it.

- It's almost like it's my entire personality.

- So, any plans for the holidays?

- Oh, you know me. I'll be working the whole time.

The only thing I'll be opening on Christmas is my emails.

- Girl, do you not have any family or friends

to spend the holidays with?

- Well, I have you, right? You're my friend.

- No, babe. I'm your gay coworker.

I'm just here to blindly support you

and recite catchphrases that I learned from black women.

Wig.

- Well, I'm trying to look good for the promotion.

- You mean...

- BOTH: Executive Fashion Ladyboss in Chief.

- Ah, you're totally gonna get it.

You are, like, the Joan Didion

of telling people to wear scarves as shirts.

- Well, I just hope Hannah thinks so.

- HANNAH: Olivia! In my office now!

- Wish me luck.

-

- HANNAH: Olivia!

- Someone please find me a new assistant!

- What did she do?

I don't know.

Something about chemo, taking off work.

I don't know. Hah!

Hey, listen, thanks for coming in.

There's something exciting I'd like to discuss with you.

Does the name "Tuckahoe" mean anything to you?

- Is that, like, German for "big taco"?

It's this little town that

all the major rags are buzzing about.

Apparently they're obsessed with the holidays.

Hah, hah, hah!

Makes me want to vomit.

- So you want me to write an exposé on a Christmas town?

- Dear girl.

Readership numbers are down, Olivia.

Everyone's saying that print journalism is dead.

Well, we need something controversial

to put us back on top.

Imagine it: nice little town, top of the naughty list.

I want you to go there and dig up some dirt--

covertly, of course.

And most importantly,

get your hands on this winter crown.

Whoa.

- HANNAH: Mesmerizing, isn't it?

It's the grand prize at this silly little competition

they throw every year.

The ultimate winter accessory

that will have the world reading this exposé.

I want it on the cover, Olivia,

of the annual Christmas issue.

That's right--

- BOTH: The most important issue in fashion.

- OLIVIA: Wait.

How am I supposed to write about Christmas?

I always spend it at work.

- All I'm saying is it would look pretty good for that

promotion you've been eyeing?

But if you don't wanna do it, I'll find someone who will.

Maybe...Tristan.

- TRISTAN: You are snatching my edges, sis!

- If he ever gets around to doing work.

- He's--

- Look, I'm gonna need an answer by tomorrow, okay?

- MICHELLE: As Olivia sat there, she pondered and reminisced.

Is Christmas a day she regrets to have Christ-missed?

- What do you think, Barbara?

What do you do when you're at a crossroads?

- Take the job, Olivia!

- Barbara?

- All great lady journalists do anything to get the story.

Ask tough questions. Go undercover.

- OLIVIA: Go undercover, huh?

- Hannah? I'll do it.

You'll have the exposé on your desk in a week.

Goodbye, Olivia St. LaPelle.

Hello, Maggie Zeen.

- Excuse me?

Can you tell me where the Tuck'd Inn is?

I'm here on business.

- Christmas business?

- Um, sure.

- It's starting!

- What's starting?

- Really not from around here, are you?

The Christmas trees are on display

their college fund

There's cookies in the oven

And Grandma in the kitchen

The snowball fights are mostly ice

just tradition

I met a man of mystery one day

and super hot

And definitely not a prince

There's mistletoe on every door

Except for maybe one, which is

It's a Tuckahoe Christmas

And if you listen, you'll hear the children

in the square--shut up!

It's a Tuckahoe Christmas

in Tuckahoe

We've got a kid with polio

got his crutches

I haven't felt my legs in years

its blessings

A Christmas ghost, a talking dog

I'm only here for this one part

been paid, darlin'

It's a Tuckahoe Christmas

A chance to do something real creepy

It's a Tuckahoe Christmas

in Tuckahoe

I plan on finding

promotion will be mine

Why did I just sing that? Oh, pardon me.

- DANCING HUSBANDS: Woo!

- Those are your...husbands? - Mm-hmm. Why do you ask?

- DANCING HUSBANDS: Woo!

It's a Tuckahoe Christmas

- In a consumer-capitalist commercial way that uses

religion as a façade. - OTHERS: Shut up!

It's a Tuckahoe Christmas

in Tucka--

- It's Mayor Coont!

- Merry Christmas, Tuckahoe!

It's Christmastime in Tucka--

Christmastime in Tucka--

Christmastime in Tucka--

Christmastime in Tucka--hi

Christmastime in Tucka...

- Oh, sorry.

- Is that the mayor? - Coont.

- What did you just call me?

- Mayor Coont?

- MAYOR COONT: Seasons tidings, my town!

Tomorrow marks a very special day.

It's the first day of our annual Winter Ball!

- Now, I don't need to tell you how it works,

but I will anyway just in case somebody comes from out of town

on Christmas business or something.

The ball. The ball is a weeklong,

multi-part competition to judge

what street in town embodies the holiday spirit the most.

- Delia, the crown, please.

- Work it, girl!

Gonna miss sleeping in this little number.

- As Delia Von Whitewoman,

the head housewife of Kittenheel Court,

and the winner of the last eleven winter balls,

I just wanna say...

it's just a silly little crown,

and not something to plan your entire year/life around.

- Let it go, Delia!

Or what?

- I mean, here you go, Mayor Coont.

- What? Wow.

- As our forefathers once ordained,

no citizen shall see the crown before the final pageant,

or else they will fall victim

to the dreadful Tuckahoe Curse.

- MAYOR COONT: Mm-hmm.

I'm sure everyone here remembers

what happened to Little Lennie,

our local polio child.

- Little Lennie!

- Russ, could you please lock this away?

All right.

Tuckahoe, start your engines,

and may the best housewife win!

- Bitches!

- Oh!

Oops!

- Oh my god! I'm so sorry.

- No worries!

I'm--I'm sure it will come out in the wash.

Can you hold this?

- Hey, Mack?

Could you take the crown to that secret location

nobody knows about? - Oh--

- Sorry about that.

Name's Big Russ. I'm the mayor's security.

- Maggie. Uh, Maggie Zeen.

- Well, looks like I owe you another, uh...

Wait a second, is this coffee?

- It is. It is coffee, yeah.

I actually love coffee.

- Well, you love coffee? That is crazy!

'Cause I also love coffee.

- Really? Oh my god,

I've never met anyone else who loves coffee.

I actually even have this saying in the morning:

don't talk to me until I've had my--

- BOTH: --hot bean water.

- Would you maybe wanna grab a cup with me?

- Uh...I'm really busy with work.

But...maybe I'll see you around.

- Bye, Maggie Zeen.

- Lost the scent of the crown.

But fortunately, I have a reservation at the town inn.

It's the perfect place to chat up the locals and get the scoop.

Someone's bound to know where that crown is hiding.

- Oh my god! I'm sorry!

I was just checking to see if you were on duty.

- Ooh, girl, I thought you were that Annabelle doll!

Yeah, I'm on duty.

And I am happy to take you!

Just so you know,

I almost lost my license last week,

but for nothin' serious. Huh!

Judge used all this legal jargon.

You know, like "vehicular manslaughter"

or something like that, I don't know.

Anyway, where you goin'? - The...Tuck'd Inn?

- Oh, I love that little hole in the wall.

- Oh, yeah, yeah, the pictures online looked really quaint.

- No, there's literally a hole in the wall.

Tried parallel parking?

Hmph, backed right into the lobby.

Buckle up!

- Oh, your name is Bea Eep, like a car?

- Nah, bitch, like a-- -

- BEA EEP: Woo!

- BEA EEP: Hold on. I know a shortcut.

- MICHELLE: After many misturns and the cab breaking down,

the two pulled up at dawn to a seedy edge of town.

-

- BEA EEP: Who said my name?

- Not from around here, are you?

- Oh, uh, do you work here?

- If by "here" you mean this alley, then yeah, I work here.

- Oh, so you--you do construction?

- If by "construction" you mean

handling heavy pipes with my hands,

then yeah, I do construction.

- Oh, so you're a...plumber?

- If by "plumber" you mean

sucking massive clogs out of people's holes,

then yeah, I'm a plumber.

- Oh, you're a whore.

- Ooh, yeah, that's me!

The name's Kitti.

Allow me.

- Oh, follow me, please.

Excuse me.

Time for my morning cold potato offer.

Boys! Good news!

Just got back from the clinic clean as a whistle...

that was just in someone's ass.

Come! We drink.

- Oh, look at you!

- Hello?

- Woo! Oh! Hiya, gal pal.

You checkin' in? - Are you okay?

What--what were you doing up there?

- Oh! I thought it'd be neat to install a fire pole.

Turns out I forgot the pole.

But there is a fire up there.

Oh, I'll get to it later.

Hazel Delashes. I run the inn--

well, when it isn't running away from me.

- I have a reservation under Zeen.

First name, Maggie.

- Maggie...Zeen?

Well, like a magazine?

You're not one of those reporters from the big city,

are ya?

- No, of course not!

No, I'm a...

jar...

nail...

...list.

- A journalist?

- Shit !

- Like somebody who makes journals?

- Yes! That! Oh, yeah!

- Why didn't you say so in the first place, girly?

Journals are one of my top five favorite things.

Let me show you to your room.

- It's one of these. Come on.

- HAZEL: Oh, son of a bisque!

Ooh!

It's musty.

- Mm, that's just me.

- Oh! Why is the mattress wet?

- Didn't ya ask for the pirate theme?

It's probably pee.

For pirate?

- I thought so. Oh!

- Ladies. -

- Ladies! -

- Thank you all for coming

to the Kittenheel Court Announcement Club,

and for adhering to this month's theme: big hats.

Remember, next month is little gloves,

as suggested by Bernice.

- Good suggestion. - Thank you, Bernice.

Our first announcement, as you all know,

is that tomorrow is the Winter Ball.

I hope you all are well rested.

- With the twins running around, fat chance.

- That's funny, Lanette.

Do you think this is something to laugh about?

- It's just a joke. - Oh, I'm sorry.

I didn't realize I had front-row tickets to

"Lanette: Live at the Giggle Factory."

Please, tell another joke.

- I don't have another joke.

- Well, then what are you good for?

Get out. And take your ugly hat with you.

You look like a bargain bin Pippa Middleton.

See you tomorrow, hon.

- I think she went too far...

- Now, where were we? Oh, I remember.

Oh, Bertram!

- You all have met my husband, Bertram,

the very rich owner of the local bank.

And I couldn't be luckier to have found such a generous,

open, and understanding prenup as ours.

Isn't that right, Bertram?

- Aww! - Aww!

- Bertram, stop. Not in front of everyone!

Lights.

- Christmas Eve marks yet another year

where Kittenheel Court takes home the crown.

But I'd also like to announce that it will commence

of the grand remodeling of downtown Tuckahoe!

- With Bertram's help, we ladies of Kittenheel Court

are going to turn this...

into this.

- No more hookers or wild dogs,

or that bedbug-infested Tuck'd Inn.

Now we'll have what we always dreamed of...

the largest Cardigan Super Outlet

in the tristate area!

- Oh, crap!

- MICHELLE: As Olivia walked through the bar

in her cocktail skirt,

she chatted up Hazel to dig up some dirt.

- I'll take a Manhattan.

- You mean like that city where some people are from?

- I mean a...cosmopolitan.

- You mean like the people that are from that city?

- I'll take a water!

- Water, huh?

Love that stuff.

- I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were there.

- No one ever does.

I was actually diagnosed with chronic no personality disorder.

No interests, no talents, no original ideas.

Kind of like a background character in my own life.

- Well, what do you want to do with your life?

- Become an international pop star.

I'm Jane McBeige.

I deliver all the mail here in town.

Well, until my big break.

- Maggie. Say...

if you deliver the mail, you must've heard about some

scandals, corruption?

Maybe where a certain crown is being kept?

Doll, that crown

is locked up tighter than my ex-husband.

The only way of getting your hands on it is by winning it.

- Oh, by the way, Hazel, you got another letter from the bank.

- Well, it's probably about that loan.

Oh no! Oh no, no, no!

- What is it, Hazel? - It's an eviction notice.

It says they're gonna tear down the inn on Christmas Eve!

- What? They can't do that!

This is where I get all my work.

- I'm so behind on the loan they're gonna...

they're gonna bulldoze the inn in five days!

- I guess that's just how banks work.

- Oh, come on!

There's got to be something we can do!

- MICHELLE: But as Olivia sat there

next to the Broads of Downtown,

she had an idea, a way to get close to the crown.

- What if you entered the Winter Ball?

- Huh? - What?

- No-- - Very funny.

- Think about it.

If you won the crown, the downtown would be named

the most Christmassy street in Tuckahoe.

There's no way the mayor would tear it down then.

But how are we gonna beat Kittenheel Court?

- You know what?

- Oh my goodness.

- I may just be a girl named Maggie who makes journals.

But I can feel it.

There is magic in this inn.

- We need a leader if we are going to compete.

And who is going to lead a bunch of busted-ass broads like us?

- I'll do it! - You?

- OLIVIA: Yeah, that's right!

Tomorrow I'm gonna be in the square

repping the Broads of Downtown.

Who's with me?

- Oh, like I'm gonna let anybody else

destroy this place before me.

- And like I'm gonna let them

demolish the last gloryhole in town?

- Like I'm gonna let you gals

put your hands in a pileup without me.

- Oh, if we're gonna compete, we need one more person.

- I'll do it.

- Any takers? Come on, ladies.

- I'll do it.

- Is there anybody around here? - I don't think there's--

- Hey, what about you, Jane?

- Oh! - Oh!

- I'll do it!

- Then it's settled.

We'll win the crown and save the inn!

- Very exciting. Very exciting.

- But first we need to do something about...this.

- What? I put on deodorant today.

- You hear that, ladies?

That's the sound of a makeover montage!

- No, that's actually just the sound of a couple of rats

sucking each other off in a radiator.

- Oh.

- Oh! Oh!

- Careful, she left a snail trail all over the bar.

- That's it! - Oh, you like that?

- Yeah, I like the hands.

Now sissy that walk

- Oh!

Now sissy that walk

now sissy that walk...

Yes!

- How do we look?

- Like winners.

- MALE ANNOUNCER: Live from downtown Tuckahoe,

the Christ-missiest town in America,

it's the Tuckahoe Annual Winter Ball!

- Well, it is a beautiful winter evening here in Tuckahoe

and the perfect night to kick off the annual Winter Ball.

Isn't that right, Kreston Carsley?

- Oh, it sure is, Matt Rothews!

Even our wives joined us here tonight in the audience.

- Oh, hi, hon! - Look at her.

- Oh, your wife looks cute. - Thanks, I did her hair.

- Oh, I love it. Did she get a new bra?

- Mm, I'm not sure, but I cannot wait to

bend her over my desk later and mess that thing up.

- Yup, that's hot.

Alright, now, for the first competition,

it's going to be the Holiday Runway.

Isn't that right? - Yes!

And for the Holiday Runway,

each street will debut a series of unified looks

for a chance to impress the mayor.

Ooh, here she comes now.

- First up, L'Chaim Lane, serving us Hannakouture.

- Hm, mazel.

- Well, well, well.

Looks like the downtown rats made it out of the sewer!

- Bitch.

- Oh! Your hair looks expensive.

Who might you be?

- I'm Maggie Zeen.

And I just wanna say you better watch your back.

'Cause this year,

the competition's gonna get a little tougher.

- Mm-hmm.

- Tougher, yeah, if you took out the "e" and put the "r"

between the "t" and the "o."

- Troug? - Trug?

- Truffaut? - Wait, no--

- It's trough, as in the thing

you'll be eating out of 'cause you're pigs.

- I'm so sorry, can you say it one more time, please?

- I--I thought you just said that we were rats.

- ON PA: Kittenheel Court to the stage, please.

- Watch and learn, little rats. Squeak squeak.

- And of course Kittenheel Court serving Nativity Scene Realness.

Joy to the world

- I like her shoes.

Joy the world, the Lord is come

- Mary!

- Are you there, God? It's me, your baby mama.

- Very creative.

Joy

- Ooh, next up, I wasn't expecting this.

- This is a real shocker.

- It's the Broads of Downtown Tuckahoe

giving us Santa's Werk Room.

- Hm! - I don't know...

Come and taste my Christmas cookies

- Oh!

- Ow!

O-o-oven

-

- A level of unprofessionalism...

- Far too much.

- Mayor Coont, your final judgment?

- Put that away!

- Kittenheel Court is the winner!

- I told you to lock it away.

- BIG RUSS: Lock what away?

- MAYOR COONT: The crown! - BIG RUSS: I did.

It's in a secret location that no one knows about.

- MAYOR COONT: And it's locked up?

- BIG RUSS: I couldn't find the key,

so I just put a really heavy book

in front of the door.

- MAYOR COONT: Russ, like I say every year, there's no key.

It's a code.

- BIG RUSS: Mm, that explains the keypad.

So, uh, what was the code?

- Oh, I told you the code!

It's 80085--

- Oh! - Oh!

- Careful there, Coffee Girl.

- Oh. Hey...Coffee Guy.

- Yeah, will that be cream or sugar?

- Uh, oat milk, please, or else I'll shit my pants.

- What were you doing back there?

- Oh, I wa--I was just climbing up to...

get a better look at this big tree.

Wow, we don't have those where I'm from.

- And where is that?

- The Gobi Desert.

- Oh.

Oh no, your tape recorder's all wet.

- Oh. Oh...

- Here.

- Thank you.

- Look, I know you're some classy business lady

and I'm just some security guard with a tragic backstory

that's left me incredibly single, but...

is there any chance that you might--

-

- I'm sorry. I--I have to take this.

- Hannah? - Do you have the crown?

- I'm...working on it.

- HANNAH: Well, what's the hold up?

Olivia, I did not send you there

to walk around with your thumb up your ass.

Olivia, do I need to remind you how much you owe me?

Darling, I was there for you when nobody else was.

Olivia, if you drop one more call,

you're going back out on the street where I found you.

- Yes, Hannah.

- HANNAH: Let me tell you something.

You're lucky I found you on that stoop.

I risked my career for you, so you better repay me--

- I will. I will get it, Hannah.

- HANNAH: That's a good girl.

- MICHELLE: After a series of losses,

the broads were losing faith. Holed up in the bar--

- Who the hell? - Hi! What's up, bitch?

- Kim Petras, what are you doing here?

Deck the halls with boughs of--

- No, hold up, uh-uh.

You can't just come into people's houses

and start singing.

I am in the middle of something, so...

- KIM: Oh, okay.

- Right. - Okay.

- Now, where were we? Ah, right.

The broads were just thinking maybe they should just give up.

- You know, maybe we should just give up.

- I'll never be a pop star after this.

- No, we can't give up.

I mean, did Katie Couric give up

when her daytime talk show was canceled?

- Who?

- Did Rachel Maddow give up when--when everyone said

she looked like a lesbian Andrew Garfield?

- Yeah, but girl, even if we set our -- up

to the Nth degree, we still ain't no Kittenheel Court.

- Maybe that's the problem.

We're trying to be Kittenheel Court.

- Oh, Christ on a cracker, she's climbing on the furniture.

- Who are these Kittenheel Court ladies anyway, huh?

Huh? They're rich. So?

They're--they're--they're manicured.

What else?

- Oh, they also bleach their assholes .

- Exactly! And guess what?

Our assholes aren't bleached.

Ours are the color of shit!

And you know why?

- Because that's where shit comes out of?

- Yes, Jane! That is where shit comes out of!

- I like where this is going.

- The Broads are gross.

Hey? We're sluts!

We're messes!

And we are proud of it.

We've just gotta take our nasty shit

and shove it in their faces.

- What if I usually charge for that?

- We just have to show this town why we are special.

- But--but the Carol Showdown is tomorrow night!

What are we supposed to do?

- Uh...come on, ladies. I've got a plan.

- Is it topless?

- And for those of you just joining us,

tonight is the ultimate Carol Showdown.

- Yes, and the rules are very simple.

Two teams are forced to go head to head

in a high-stakes carol sing-off.

Joy to the world, the Lord has come

Her king

Deck the halls with boughs of holly

la, la, la, la, la

- We better back up, Matt. We're in the splash zone.

Spread your legs and grab your ankles

la, la, la, la, la

Away in a manger

Just rail me, merry gentlemen

I'll grind on top and I won't stop

- What's a bussy?

- Skip to the end!

On the 12th day of Christmas

Twelve drummers drumming

Eleven vodka tampons

Ten lords a-leaping

Nine lines of cocaine

Eight maids a-milking

Seven hookers sucking

Six geese a-laying

Five gold cock rings

Four calling birds

Three big shits

Two turtledoves

And a--

- Ooh!

- That was the most inappropriate,

disgusting, puerile performance

in the history of the ball!

And I'm gagging for more!

- Oh! I might as well just call it now.

The Broads win the entire carol battle!

- Oh!

- Everybody! - Okay!

Ladies, I think it's time to wrap it up.

- Oh, no!

- Yes, you guys!

We have to practice.

So get some rest for tomorrow, okay?

- You too, Hazel. I'm gonna close up.

- Mm, well, goodnight. - Goodnight.

- Rest? I have to go to work now.

- She should close up shop. - Come on, girls.

- Oh, I'm sorry, we're closed.

- So I guess I'm too late for a nightcap?

- So what's a girl from the Gobi Desert doing

in a town like this?

- You have any...

Gobi boyfriends?

- Oh, no, no.

I'm sort of married to my job.

-

- I feel that.

I've also thrown myself into my job ever since...

the accident. -

- She was my wife.

- Oh, we don't have to talk about this if you don't want to.

- It was December. A day like any other.

Except it was the day my wife died.

There I was, watching her leave for her job

as the town's clock tower technician.

- Aw!

- She knew that clock inside and out.

AM...and PM.

It was supposed to be a routine maintenance job.

Loosening of a bolt here.

Straightening of a hand there.

Just like every other inspection.

Except it was the one that killed my wife.

- Again, if this is too touchy for you--

- She was mangled.

Sucked into the gears like a piece of saltwater taffy.

Her bones crushed by the pendulum.

Her head...

popping open from the sheer force of the pulleys.

You ever try wiping brain matter off a giant bell?

- No, I haven't.

- That's because your wife didn't die in a clocktower!

- She was so dead.

Deader than print journalism.

Her body so...

mangled by the gears, so stiff with...

rigor mortis.

It was impossible to get out.

So now every time I look up...

I know the exact time she died.

- Wow.

I never told anyone that before.

Except everyone in town who watched it happen.

- Yeah.

- You look just like her. - Oh--

- Would you ever consider wearing a blonde wig?

- Sorry.

- Olivia, darling,

why are you not answering my phone calls?

Were you eaten by dogs or something?

- VOICEMAIL ROBOT: Sorry, bitch. This mailbox is full.

- It better not be.

- VOICEMAIL ROBOT: Making room for more messages.

You ain't gotta be all extra. - Good, thank you.

Never send a reporter to do an editor's job.

- What were we even laughing about?

- Can't even remember!

So, what about you? You have any family?

- Oh, um...

I don't really talk about my family that much.

- Is that because they died in a clock tower?

- No, uh...

I just don't think they ever really wanted me.

- Hey, um, what's that?

- Oh, that's Mayor Coont 30 years ago.

She was the best winter queen this town ever had.

- Who's that standing behind her?

- BIG RUSS: That's her sister, Marianne.

She used to write for the local paper,

but nobody ever read her articles.

It's sad, really.

She was always living in the Mayor's shadow.

- Was?

- Nobody ever knew what happened to her.

- Oh.

- She went missing on that very day.

- Well, it's getting late. - Yeah.

Hey.

Maybe I could take you out for that coffee sometime.

And don't worry.

I won't talk about my dead wife.

Too much.

- I'll think about it.

-

- BIG RUSS: Yeah, I'll just let myself out.

- Three minutes left in the Tree Lighting Challenge,

and this competition is heating up

faster than my wife's undercarriage.

- Mm, and trust me, that is pretty fast.

- And how would you know that, Matt?

- Oh. - Oh.

- Oh. - Oh!

- Bea, that's our tree?

- Yeah, and you might wanna grab it

before the hospital realizes it's missing.

Get it! - Uh, ladies?

Look at Kittenheel Court.

- Yoo-hoo! Get a load of this, girls!

-

- You know, I think we're going to need more lights.

- Yeah.

- I have an idea.

- Oh, good. Where are you going?

- MAYOR COONT: Bertram! We only have a few minutes.

Mmmwah! Ah ha--oh! Oh, no!

Ah, I feel so safe with you, Bertram.

Oh, oh, oh...

That's why I trusted you

to keep the crown in your bank. Ooh, yeah!

- MAYOR COONT: Shh, shh, shh!

- Oh, ladies, that looks a lot better.

It's like Rockefeller Center.

- But you know, this tree's still missing a certain...

je ne sais quoi.

Oh, I know!

We don't have a star for the top.

- I have another idea.

- Oh.

- And now for the final judging.

Oh!

- Get her, Jane.

Ave Maria

something Latin

- We need to talk.

- We are saving this inn!

- Girls, tonight, for the rest of the night,

all drinks are on me.

- I got you, girl! I got you!

- So I was thinking about that coffee.

-

- Maggie's phone. This is Hazel speaking?

- Who the hell is Maggie?

- Hazel? Hazel, what are you doing?

- Oh, I'm just talking to some woman

that's trapped inside your phone.

- I'm her boss.

- Oh! - What?

No, no, girls, look.

It's Maggie's boss from the journal factory!

- Maggie's the best!

- Hannah, I'm just gonna go over that journal protoype.

It just--it has a gun in it.

- Oh, I love guns!

- HANNAH: Olivia, tell me, darling,

does my limo have a toilet in it?

- Not that I know of.

- Then why did you send me something

I could wipe my ass with?

- It's a new take on the exposé.

It's--it's strong women coming together against all odds.

- You were supposed to find me gossip.

You were supposed to find me that crown.

But, if you'd rather make friends with a bunch of

overgrown orangutans, then be my guest.

I guess that promotion is going up in flames.

I'm hanging up. - No, wait, wait, wait.

I know where the crown is hiding.

It's in a vault, locked in a bank.

And I have the code.

- How do you know that? - I eavesdropped on the mayor

having an affair with the banker.

- Well, well, well.

It looks like this town's grapevine

just got a whole lot juicier.

I've changed my mind. Don't worry about the crown.

Focus on rewriting the exposé.

But I want something that grabs me by the labia

and makes me wanna listen.

Uh, uh, uh, cheating husbands, slutty mayors.

Those ugly friends of yours.

- The Broads? No, no, they're great.

They're--they're like the "Sex and the City" girls.

- Yeah, if the city were Chernobyl.

Hey, just curious.

What is the code to that crown vault?

- Oh, it--it's just 80085. Why?

- No reason.

Hey listen, I'm getting another call.

Just have that exposé in my email tomorrow morning...

and that promotion is yours.

- You can come out now.

You're the private investigator I called.

- Mr. E at your service.

- Her name is Maggie Zeen.

Something about her doesn't sit right with me.

- So you think someone murdered her.

- What? No, she's alive.

- Lady, I specialize in homicide.

Dead girls, mostly.

I can find a dead girl in a quarry, or a stream,

or an oil drum floating down a cranberry bog.

- I just need you to look into her.

Dig around, find any--

- Semen inside her?

- No.

She's at the Tuck'd Inn right now, as in not dead?

- She's dead.

- And she's with all these other women.

- Oh my, we're talking about a serial killer.

- None of them are dead.

- Dead girls at an inn. Got it.

Well, here's what I'm gonna do.

Go down there, shine my black light,

hopefully find enough semen to crack this case wide open.

- You can't just walk in there. You look like a detective.

- Oh yeah? What's that supposed to mean?

- You'll need a disguise,

something to blend in with these women.

- Lady, I'm a detective.

All I wear is a badge and an alcohol-soaked jacket

that screams my son died in a car wreck.

- I think I might have something.

- I just came home.

- MICHELLE: All night, Olivia typed, tangled up in her sheets,

with a focus on the Broads for her new smear piece.

- They were ugly, with no sense of style.

Did I mention they were really ugly?

Damn, I hate how good this is.

- Uh... - Knock knock!

Room service!

Did somebody order up the best friend special?

- Oh girls, I'm not really dressed!

- We wanted to find you before the Winter Feast today

and give you a little gift

for all the ways you've been helping us.

- It's an-- - It's an ornament.

You know, a symbol of our friendship.

You know how we would never betray or lie to each other?

- And the glass represents how transparent

we've all been with each other.

- And it's broken to represent

how if one of us stabs the rest of us in the back,

it would just break our hearts into a million little pieces.

Just get out...

- Wha--

- MICHELLE: In that moment, Olivia's blood ran cold.

Did they find out her secret? Only the--

- Okay, now who is that?

- Charo!

that we are in the same neighborhood! Woo!

- Charo, we don't live in the same neighborhood.

I am in a cabin in the middle of the goddamn mountains.

Please, please, please?

Mucho, mucho, mucho! Por favor?

- You want to sing me a song?

- Claro.

- You know what I want?

I want people to call before they come and visit me.

But that's not gonna happen, is it?

- No, surprise.

- So, sientate. Sit next to Kim Petras.

And I'd like to wrap up this story, okay?

- Okay. - Okay.

- Okay.

- It's getting pretty good, yeah.

- Very good. - Yeah.

- Okay, now, where were we?

Right.

- Did you really think you could fool us?

- Oh my god. How did you find out?

- What? That we disturbed Maggie Zeen

flicking the old Maggie bean?

- You got it! You got me!

- Come on, girls, let her whip up a bowl

of -- chili in piece.

- And now you know why that mattress is so wet.

- Circular motions or mixed?

- HAZEL: Do you need a hand? 'Cause I watched some videos.

- What were we even laughing about?

- I literally can never remember.

- Here, I got you something.

- Oh, good, another present.

Oh, oh, thank god. It's just some old newspaper.

- Oh, no, I just wrapped it in that.

It's actually an ornament that represents our relationship.

- Oh. I'll open it later.

Hey, what is this article?

- BIG RUSS: I don't know.

I found it in the mayor's office.

Now it's all dirty.

- Um...

"The mayor's sister, Marianne..."

Hey, I thought their name was "Coont," not "Urcoont."

- It was.

The mayor changed it for the campaign.

It's funny how some people think they can get ahead

just by changing their whole identity.

- Russ, there's something I have to tell you.

- Shhhh!

You don't even need to say it.

I'm falling in love with you too.

- Oh!

- And...I know it feels wrong to say in front of my dead wife--

- --but these last three days have opened my eyes

to what love looks like.

Real love, not dead wife love.

- Oh, Russ. I'm not who I say I am.

- What was that?

- Oh, um, I was just saying that I'm not Maggie.

- What were you saying? - I've been lying to you.

I'm an undercover reporter.

My name's Olivia St. LaPelle, and I--

This isn't even my real hair.

- I have no idea what you just said.

All I know is that I love you, Maggie Zeen.

- I love you too!

- Uh, hi. I would like a room, please.

Um, if possible, next to Maggie Zeen.

- This broad knows Maggie?

- You look a little funny to me.

- I do? - Yes.

You're a suspiciously tall woman.

- Who did you say you were again?

- Oh, I'm...

um...

Inn...

vest...

...tigator.

- An investigator?

- Oh, shit.

- Oh! Like you invest in the reptiles!

- Why didn't you say so in the first place, girl?

- Faster. - Oh.

- Definitely...

Ooh, a lot of semen.

Naughty business, huh?

Ah!

Well, well, well.

"Olivia St. LaPelle."

That's not your name.

Busted!

- Delia? Yeah, I think I got something.

- Now, the Christmas Feast is one of the most nerve-wracking

challenges in the Winter Ball.

- And Mayor Coont never says what she's thinking,

but there are a few telltale signs.

If she raises an eyebrow, she likes it.

- Yep. - She likes it.

And if she purses her lips, ooh!

It's awful.

- KRESTON: Yuck!

- And if she scratches her head, it's because she has eczema.

- Careful, honey, it's heavy.

- I'll take seconds.

- Oh! - What?

For the first time in Winter Ball history,

the mayor is getting seconds!

- Yay, I love this part!

- Well, what's a Christmas feast without a little toast?

To the Downtown Broads.

- Oh, let's not forget their incomparable leader,

Maggie Zeen.

Let's hear it for Maggie Zeen, y'all!

- Or should I say, Olivia St. LaPelle.

- Olivia St...LaWho?

- Your little leader is actually an undercover journalist.

- What?

- A journalist?

She makes journals.

- Yeah.

- No, she's a reporter writing an exposé on Tuckahoe!

- "It's fitting that I, Olivia, not Maggie,

"pretended to lead them to victory.

"After all, I can't imagine a more fitting street

"to exemplify Tuckahoe,

"a back-alley cesspool of fugly-ass skanks

"with no discernable talent.

And oh yeah, they also smelled like shit."

-

- DELIA: Damn, that's good!

- Maggie? Is this true?

- Russ, this is what I was trying to tell you earlier.

- And now you're gaslighting me?

Are you even from the Gobi Desert?

- If these allegations are true, the Downtown Broads will be

immediately eliminated from this ball. Well?

- They're true.

- They're all true.

- That was a wig?

- Maggie Zeen, your team is disqualified!

- Girls! Girls, I'm so sorry!

- No. You don't come near us.

You were never a Broad.

You're just a bitch.

- GUY IN AUDIENCE: Boo!

- Wow. I guess print journalism really is dead!

- Oh, hi.

I'm here to open an account.

Mind if I light up?

- Oh, and, uh, by the way, this isn't a deposit.

It's a withdrawal.

80085-pound-enter.

Oh, hello, gorgeous.

If the crown fits...

take it.

- MICHELLE: As Hannah hatched her plan and snatched the crown,

Olivia packed her bags and said goodbye to that little town.

- Getting on?

- You're not a regular bus driver, are you?

- Of course not, hon! I'm the spirit of Christmas.

- So are you gonna take me to scenes from my past and...

hopefully change my perspective about Christmas?

- You're about to see all the moments

that made you who you are, Madelyn.

- Madelyn? Who's Madelyn?

- You're not Madelyn?

- No, I'm Olivia. - Shit!

- Why, I was supposed to be Madelyn's spirit guide tonight.

Where the fuck is she?

- I, I don't--I don't know.

I'm--I'm sorry I can't help you.

Well, you look like you're goin' through something.

Maybe we can work out your stuff instead.

- Okay, yeah, sure.

- Hang on, baby.

- Wow. Where are we?

- Girl, I don't know. This is your past.

- HANNAH: Olivia!

You drop one more call and you're back out on the street

where I found you.

- Yes, Hannah.

- HANNAH: Now I'm off for my third lunch, baby.

Those articles better be proofread and on my desk

by the end of the day.

- But, isn't it Christmas?

- Christmas? Who cares about Christmas?

The one thing that's gonna make you happy in this bankrupt world

is a promotion! Remember that!

- Hey, there, girly. Uh, what are you doing?

- Working, like always.

- Oh, why don't you take a break?

You know, go outside, make some friends?

Stop it. Stop.

Stop working. No--

Stop it! Don't--

Just--just look at me! Hey!

- It's almost as if you always threw yourself into work because

that's where you derive all your worth.

Come on.

- But how was I supposed to know any better?

My parents abandoned me on a goddamn stoop.

- It's because you didn't have parents who accepted you that

you grew up thinking that you weren't worthy of love?

- Damn, you're good at this.

- That's why they pay me the big bucks.

Speaking of...

Mm-hmm, oh yeah, mm-hmm.

So, traveling to the past, uh-huh.

Speaking to your younger self, ah-ha.

And resolving some childhood trauma, okay.

Comes out to...hm.

- Guess therapy isn't free anywhere, right?

- Will this be debit or credit?

- Uh, debit. - Okay.

- BUS DRIVER: Yo, lady?

- One way to New York, are you coming or not?

- Oh.

- Oh, I seen this look before.

Don't tell me you got some unfinished business to--

- I've got some unfinished business to take care of.

- Excuse me?

Is this the Spirit of Christmas?

- The fuck no. Who are you?

- I'm...Madelyn?

Take me to the church.

- All right, say your goodbyes, ladies.

- OTHERS: Goodbyes, ladies.

- OLIVIA: Wait, wait! Don't!

- Don't what? - I don't know.

I haven't thought past that part.

- What are you doing here?

Come to stab us in the back again?

- Look, I came back because I think we can still save the inn.

What if I told you there is a loophole?

Look, it says here on page 46, article A7--

- Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

You mean to tell us that you found this book right before

the last challenge? - Yeah.

- Okay. - Checks out, it makes sense.

- It says, "Any team competing in the Winter Ball can only be

disqualified on the name of its leader."

Which means, yes, the Broads

were disqualified under Maggie Zeen.

But we can still compete under Olivia St. LaPelle.

- Oh, right! Your real name.

- You know what?

- She's climbing it.

- Why is she always climbing up on everything?

- I'm sorry I lied to you.

But I didn't have any friends growing up.

I didn't even have any family.

But what I realized over this last week is that I found both.

And I am not gonna let a Pulitzer Prize-worthy exposé

get in the way of that.

Because families, honey, we stick together.

Just like the boards holding up this inn.

- Oh, oh! Eew!

What kind of purgatory shit?

Hmph!

- All I can say is...

that I choose you, ladies.

And all I'm asking is that you choose me too.

I understand.

- Hey, Olivia?

We can't compete with just four. Come on.

- Really? - OTHERS: Yessss!

- Oh, thank goodness! I missed you.

-

- We are on the final performance

of our Christmas pageant,

and it's all been leading up to this.

It's Kittenheel Court performing

a heartfelt interpretive dance piece,

"The Snow Is White and So Am I."

- Yeah, well--and that's it, folks.

- Well, it appears the Broads are back.

- This ain't Christmas anymore, bitch.

It's Sis-mas!

working to the bone

Each December, fighting wild dogs

found my broads

Christmas ain't about

You can't build a snowman all on your own

without his ho, ho, hos

without raising hell

Christmas without

Now each season, crashing all the fun

Literally, I did a hit and run today.

Meow, meow, meow, Kitti under your tree

my hand on your D

you'll catch a fist!

of the naughty list

Christmas ain't about

It's a girls' night out

You can't build a snowman all on your own

without his ho, ho, hos

without raising hell

Christmas without

They say I have no personality

mole on my thigh today

make it my thing

it's Mole Girl, yeah

You can't build a snowman all on your own

without his ho-ho-hos

fire without raising hell

Christmas without

Can't spell Christmas without--

Can't spell Christmas without--

G-I-R-L

- E!

- That was incredible, Kreston.

Have you ever seen anything so surprising?

- Well, not since I found some guy's hair

on my wife's pillow this morning.

- Look over there!

The mayor is ready to make her decision!

- This was an incredibly tough decision.

I thought long and hard.

The winner of this year's Winter Ball is--

- The crown! It's gone!

Someone stole it.

- What!? - No, no, no.

- It's her! She must've stolen it.

We all read her exposé. She's obsessed with the crown!

- Hey, hey! - It wasn't me, I swear!

- Well, if you didn't steal it, then who did?

- GUY IN CROWD: Get out of Tuckahoe, you bitch!

- But it's just a silly little crown,

and not something to plan your entire year/life around.

- The ultimate winter accessory

that will have the world reading this exposé.

- She used to write for the local paper,

but nobody ever read her articles.

- It was her! Hannah Contour!

- Also known as Marianne Urcoont.

- Take a picture. It'll last longer.

My sister!?

- That's right.

I should've known it when I saw her name in the paper!

"Urcoont" is anagram for "Contour"!

- So, you finally figured it out.

Bravo.

Aren't you the smart one?

I knew only you could sniff out the crown.

And when I learned you found out

the code for the vault

after spying on Mayor Coont and Bertram's affair...

-

- Bertram?

- An affair?

- I knew what I had to do.

- Oh!

- There's still one thing that I haven't figured out.

Why?

- I needed to sell the crown so I could save "Gorge."

- Save it?

- The magazine's been failing for years and years.

Print journalism is dead.

- Everything's online.

- HANNAH: It's gone the way of the dinosaur.

- Oh, okay.

- I mean, magazines are dead.

That's why I had to steal the crown!

Isn't it pretty?

- But Marianne, I thought you disappeared!

- Marianne? Child, please.

Marianne is long gone, okay?

She left the day you humiliated me.

Remember when you made me accept this crown for our street?

Remember that?

And when I lifted it onto my head and my belly bursted out of

my gorgeous corset because I was nine months pregnant?

You remember that?

You humiliated me.

- Russ, apprehend that woman. Get my crown!

- Oh no, you better don't. You better back up.

I said, you better back up!

'Cause I got me an appointment.

I got an appointment with

a sheikh who has a penchant for what?

Headwear! Headwear.

He has a penchant for headwear.

And I'm not gonna miss this meeting.

Uh-uh. So Russ,

you better back up, because that right there?

- Honey, that's my ride. Yoo-hoo!

- Christ on a cracker, she's going up the Christmas tree,

Olivia. Do something!

- Is she going to jump from there?

- Come with me, Olivia!

I'll give you that promotion you've always dreamed of!

- You mean...

Executive Fashion Ladyboss in Chief?

- Better!

Chief Executive Fashion Ladyboss in Chief!

- We have to save "Gorge" Olivia!

You and me, we're the same.

We're--we're nobodies without our careers.

- I am nothing like you!

- Are you so sure about that?

Aren't you curious about my pregnancy all those years ago?

Who I was pregnant with?

Your parents never abandoned you on that stoop, Olivia.

It was a lie!

- What? No! No, that can't be!

- I gave birth to you on the steps of "Gorge"!

I knew if the magazine found out I was a mother,

I'd never get as far.

So I did what I had to do our family.

- Our family?

- You were never my mother!

- Ow! Bitch!

I've always been your mother!

- Aah!

Well, a mother would not make her daughter her assistant!

Aah! -

- You cheated on me with her?

- Oh, don't you hit him!

- You got my sister pregnant!

- Your grandpa's your father's dad?

- And I'm taking the kids.

- You fuck my wife, didn't you?

- Only 'cause you fuck mine!

- I hate myself. I hate myself.

- Snap out of it!

- Give me that crown! - OLIVIA: No! No!

- Give it to me!

- It doesn't matter if you're my mother...

'cause I found my real family.

And they are right down there!

- It's saved! The crown is saved!

- You dumb bitch!

We could've had it all,

but you had to throw it away!

You had to throw it away!

Well, looks like that promotion is going to Tristan after all!

Goodbye, Olivia!

- Are you safe?

Stop it.

- What? Did you Broads really think

your little loophole would work?

Did you forget you missed, like, 98% of this pageant?

- We weren't here. I didn't understand.

Was there a schedule?

- That is true.

Oh, Kittenheel Court wins the Winter Ball!

- Oh, no, no!

- As winter queen, my first order of business is

destroying your little inn. Bulldozers!

- Well, that's it, girls.

Now we'll never have enough money to--to pay the loan!

- Oh, it's okay. We'll figure it out.

- After saving the crown, it's the least we can do.

- That's--that's for us?

- Oh, oh!

- Do I have to take my top off? Oh, oh, it's real!

- Oh, no, keep your top on

if you want them to keep throwing money.

- Well, I think this should cover it.

- Girls, we did! We saved the inn!

- My Cardigan Outlet!

This isn't over. Girls, we're leaving.

- Oh, no, Delia. - Uh-uh.

- Girls?

- Hey, Delia.

I got a little joke for you.

We voted, and you are no longer the leader of Kittenheel Court.

And here is the punchline.

- Bertram?

- You know, that looks great on you.

- Oh! - Your customers requested it.

- Oh, bless them!

- Olivia, what is all this?

- I've never really done this Christmas thing before,

so I hope you like it. - Thank you.

- Should we open them together?

- Yeah!

- Today we're all queens.

- Thank you so much.

- HAZEL: Oh, you look like...

- KITTI: Oh, thank you, Danny DeVito, that's very kind.

- Mayor Coont?

- Shh! Urcoont.

I decided to embrace who I truly am

after confronting so much of my past yesterday.

Thank you, Olivia, for saving my town.

And one more thing.

- I came back last night after getting into a horrific

helicopter crash.

Turns out the Tuckahoe curse is very real.

- Me and my sister got to talking

and spent the whole night

remembering what it was like to be a family again.

- And I thought about what you said to me in that tree and I--

I realized that you always admired me.

Turns out the appreciation I was searching for all those years

was right outside my office door.

And look, I--I may not be good at it,

and I--I have a lot of time to make up for,

but I kind of sort of maybe,

maybe just ready to be a mom.

If you'll have me, of course.

Call me...Mother?

- I don't know.

I think that's gonna take a long time.

- Hm. I understand.

- But today...we're all family.

- Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh!

Oh, come on, sis! Come on, sissy!

- Olivia, you were right.

What we have is real,

even if you are Maggie-- or Olivia, or Olaggie,

or Magivia, or Tina, or Stephanie.

- Oh, Russ!

- What I'm trying to say is...

Will you marry me?

- Russ...

haven't we only known each other for, like, four days?

- Yeah, you're right.

What am I doing? - I don't know!

- Can you imagine if you said yes?

Oh my god, you're so crazy!

Come on in here. Take your shirt off.

- Okay.

- Oh, hello. - Hello, Russ.

- MICHELLE: On that morning, Olivia saw it,

all the rainbow hues.

A kaleidoscope of family--

the family you choose.

And what is Christmas if not a silly little stunt

for family to come together

and absolutely serve...

Coont.

- Now let the music play.

Christmas ain't about

snowman all on your own

without his ho, ho, hos

without raising hell

Christmas without

- E!

Come on, all ye faithful

through the season

yuletide into you

let's get merry

momma's Christmas carol

don gay apparel