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- Well, if you just stay still- - Yes, but this suit wasn�t supposed to shrink.

- It didn�t, dear. - Oh, yes.

If you don�t stay away from those gingerbread cookies,

I�m going to have to put a stretch band on your pants.

Steve Heptinstall.

- "Steve Heptinstall, Roanoke, Virginia." Did I pack his catcher�s mitt? - Yes, dear.

Um, ah, Claire- Claire, uh-

- Oh. "Claire Rinfret," yes, of Paris, France. Did I- - Yes, dear.

- My mittens! - They�re on the mantel where they always are.

Ah.

- Oh! My pipe. - I put it in the glove compartment.

Oh, Helen, I�m so excited.

I can�t wait to get out there and see all those eager faces...

waiting for Santa to pay �em a visit.

- Well, just remember, dear, the world has changed. - Not on Christmas it hasn�t.

You read the newspapers. You see what�s on the evening news.

Uh, it�s a modern, sophisticated world.

And I haven�t kept up with it?

No, you have- in your own way.

It�s- It�s just that, unfortunately,

people think they have more important things to believe in...

than Christmas or Santa.

Horsefeathers!

In the worst of times, the children needed me- waited up for me-

and did I let �em down?

- No, dear, you didn�t. Oh, some maybe didn�t always get what they asked for, but I did the job.

I delivered, and with a personal touch, mind you.

So, my philosophy is, "The more things change-

the more they stay the same."

Of course there�s a Santa Claus, Bobby.

That�s not what Jed and Jeff said.

- jed and Jeff Marshall are just teasing you because they�re older than you are. - Really?

- That�s right, Bobby. - I don�t know.

Nancy Benedict said it too, and she�s the same age as me.

- Well, I- I guess the Marshall boys must have talked to her too. - Yeah, I guess.

I�d keep your eyes peeled, Bobby. You never know who you might see on Christmas Eve.

- Okay, I will. - Okay. Good night.

- Good night. - Good night. Sleep tight.

Merry Christmas.

Ah. This is going to be the greatest Christmas since 1492.

- Watch out for the 747 s. - Ha! Yes, and come to think of it,

1747 wasn�t a bad year either.

Don�t go sneaking up on any airport towers like you did last year. You scared those controllers nearly half to death.

Yes, that I did. They thought I was a U.F.O.-

Unidentified Fat Object.

Here we are.

- Have you got your list? - Yes, it�s there.

- Did you check it twice? - We�re hunky-dory, sweetie pie.

- Have a grand old time. - Yes, I�ll be home by noon tomorrow.

On, Dasher. On, Dancer. On, Prancer and Vixen.

Now, Comet. Now, Cupid.

- Now, Donner and Blitzen. - Good-bye, dear.

Good-bye. Merry Christmas.!

Ah.

Hmm. Ho, ho, ho.

Ah.

Ho, ho, ho.

Oh.

Our security code is 039. Call the police.

- Ah!

Intruder alert. Intruder alert. Illegal entry. Illegal entry.

Notify the police. Notify the police.

No, no. Be patient. I have presents enough for everybody.

Come back here.

Freeze.!

Drop that bag and raise those mittens.

Take him away.

- Okay, pal. This way. - Oh, but Officer-

- Hey! - That�s a great costume.

- Come on in. - Hey, come and join the party.

Come on, Bobby. It�s cold. Let�s go inside.

- Mom, I think you better let him go. - Come on, Bobby.

And, uh, tell Hazel We�ve got, uh, three D and D�s and a B and E.

- 1 0-4. - Okay.

How many houses you hit tonight, fella?

Well, let me think. Um,

I�d say 40 million, so far.

- Have we much further to go? - In a hurry to get locked up, huh?

Actually, I�m on a practically impossible schedule this time.

You see, the population�s growing so.

Now, Mrs. Claus- can let this coat out...

about an inch or two every year,

but she can�t put a stretch band on the trousers of the world-

if you follow me.

Hey, no laughing in the paddy wagon.

- Why�s that? Because nothing funny ever happens in my paddy wagon...

unless I say so.

- Right, Wetherby? - Yes, sir, Sheriff Smivey.

Smivey?

You wouldn�t happen to be Horace Smivey, would you?

- How you figure that, pops? - You hit my house already this evening?

Actually, your house was going to be next.

- Hey, uh, how about a song?

Jingle bells . Jingle bells, jingle all the way..

Knock it off. Make a left. I�m sick of the Christmas decorations on Main Street.

- Yes, sir. - Where is your holiday spirit?

Oh, it�s right up there with armed robbery, vagrancy and drunk driving,

which all seem to gather in a group and celebrate right about December and January...

each and every year.

- Sounds fairly awful. - You got that right.

How long have you felt this way?

- You know what you�re reminding me of? - Oh, what�s that, Horace?

How much I hate talking to prisoners.

- Robert Mynes, you listen to me right now. - But Mom, it was Santa Claus.

Every holiday season, a few very sad people rob those who are more fortunate than they are.

But he wasn�t robbing, Mom. He was giving.

- Bobby. - He was. You and Dad just arrested Santa Claus like some kinda terrorist.

- Listen. Aren�t those sleigh bells I hear? - I don�t hear anything.

- Quick, get into bed. Santa�s coming! - But he�s already been here!

But this time he�s here just for you. Now, you be very quiet, and if you�re lucky, you may get to see him.

- Good night. - Good night.

No one listens to an eight-year-old.

Rudolph.

Left profile.

Five gold rings .

Big finish. Big finish. Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves ..

For cryin� out loud, wetherby, what�s goin� on here? I haven�t got all night.

Uh, sir, excuse me. Are you serious about arresting these guys?

- You bet your boots I am. - But, sir, it�s Christmas.

Take �em away.

- All right. - Next.

Excuse me. I�d like a word with you about your Christmas spirit, Horace.

Save it for the judge.

Right thumb please.

- Will you be spending Christmas Eve with your family, Horace? - Oh, the sheriff� s not married.

- Well, what about with some friends? - Well, he doesn�t have any except me.

Didn�t your family ever celebrate Christmas, Horace?

- Oh, see, the sheriff doesn�t have a family. He was brought up in an orphanage. - Writing my biography, Wetherby?

- No sir. - Something else you want to say, Wetherby?

- No, sir. - Good. Let�s keep it that way.

- Yes, sir. - All right. Let�s go. Let�s go!

Sorry, sir.

What�s goin� on around here?

Who are these poor fellows, Sheriff?

Well, let�s see. This one is from the old folks� home.

And this Santa got drunk and passed out at the shelter...

before he could hand out the presents.

And this miserable geezer...

got caught stealing Christmas tree ornaments from the department store...

where he�d been working the past week as Santa Claus.

Usually, the first time a child believes in something...

other than his own mother and father...

is when he puts his trust in bearded, overstuffed strangers.

A-A-And the funny thing is that these men who dress up as Santa...

usually have no children of their own.

And the sadness of Christmas ending...

has delivered them, each one,

to this unfortunate place.

And people believe in them, Horace.

You got that right, old-timer.

And did I ever let you down?

Oh, Santa was just the first of many disappointments.

Do you care to... tell me about it?

I was a kid. 1933.

I wrote Santa a long letter- nine pages.

Told him I was as good a boy as I could be.

Brushed every tooth. Done all my chores,

and all I ask him for...

was one blue, Buck Rogers toy ray gun.

And you didn�t get it?

Sometimes even Santa makes mistakes.

Who do you think you�re kiddin�, old man?

Get in there.

- Speak, Wetherby. Sir, it�s about Santa Claus- uh, about the burglar we arrested.

- What about him? - This.

just what this sorry old world needs-

Christmas without Santa.

All right, you guys, let�s go.

Psst. Santa.

It�s me- Bobby Mynes.

- Bobby. - I�m gonna get you out.

Stand back, you guys.

Are you sure you had ink in the pad?

I�ve had just about enough from that old geezer. Come on.

What is this?

All right, you. You�re comin� outta there.

Hooray!

Run for it!

Get outta the way.

Ohhh.

You take those others. I�ll get the sleigh.

- Go, Santa! - Hey, hey!

- It�s the sheriff!. - This is the sheriff.

Pull that sleigh over.

He�s gaining on us, Santa.

Hold on, Bobby!

- We lost him, Santa. - Ho, ho, ho!

Oh, no!

Hang on to your long johns, Bobby!

Uh, I�m sorry, sir. My Santas seem to have gotten away.

There�s three of them. They were going in, like, different directi-

Sheriff?

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