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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