All language subtitles for Terry Zwigoff - Bad Santa - English with German Subs

23.976 English
check � 18.06.2020

Can I get another drink down here?

I've been to prison once,

I've been married twice.

I was once draughted by Lyndon Johnson

and had to live in shit-ass Mexico
for two and a half years for no reason.

I've had my eye socket punched in,
a kidney taken out,

and I got a bone chip in my ankle
that's never gonna heal.

I've seen some pretty shitty situations
in my life,

but nothing has ever sucked more ass
than this.

If I'd known I was going to have to put up
with a bunch of screaming brats

pissing on my lap
for 30 days out of the year,

I would have killed myself a long time ago.

Come to think of it, I still might.

Where I come from,
we didn't celebrate Christmas.

Not because we were Jewish,

but because my dad
was a worthless coward fucking asshole

whose idea of a present was a daily punch
to the back of the head.

He did teach me
how to crack a safe, though.

My dad never did shit with his life,
so he took it out on me.

You could say I'm no different,
and I'd have to say you were right.

But at this point, it's too late to start over.

Funny how things work out.

It's fucking hilarious.

Bad Santa (2003)

There's Santa Claus over there.

Wow.

Oh, my, what a darling photo.
Are you certain you only want the single?

Additional photos come in handy
as gifts for Grandma and Grandpa

or as a wonderful remembrance for friends.

You know what?
This one, I think it's more than enough.

Thanks. Merry Christmas.

-What do you want, little girl?
-A drum set.

Your old man will love that.
Okay, fine. See you later.

I saw you at another mall.

I'm very happy for you.

You're not really Santa.
If you were Santa, you could do magic.

You wanna see some magic?
Let's watch you disappear.

Watch the bladder, kid. Santa's got to pee.
What do you want?

-A new bike.
-Wow, that's a new one. Excellent.

Your attention, shoppers, the store will be
closing in five minutes.

We hope tomorrow's a pleasant Christmas,
and thank you for shopping with us.

-Is that it?
-Yeah, that's the last one.

Thank the fuck Christ.

Jesus, Mother Mary, and Joseph.
You pissed yourself.

Oh, Jesus.

Yeah, right.

Happy holidays. All right.

Merry Christmas.

Get home safe.

I don't care what he says,
we're going out for a beer.

I'll get right back to you.

What the hell's wrong with you?

-I'm trying to fucking leave here.
-Pants are awful baggy.

You got anything in there?

Yeah, my dick. You want to see it?

Keep pushing me.
I got my eyes on you. All the time.

"Arming.."

"Cancelled"

Ready.

Jesus.

-How's it going?
-I'm finished when I'm finished.

I'm going back upstairs.
I need a melon baller and a loofah.

Got it.

Fuck the loofah, let's go.

-Marcus, you get the loofah?
-Drive!

I'm dizzy. Put me down.

Put me down.

Come on.

Baby, two more of these, all right?

No, that's it for me.

You can't drink worth a shit, you know that?

I weigh 92 pounds, you dick.

Come on, one more. It's a celebration.

Here's to you.

You're getting worse, you know that?

-At least I got it open.
-It took you long enough.

I remember the time when
you could unlock a lock like it was nothing.

You don't have to worry about me anymore.

-I'm out.
-Bullshit.

Bullshit, my ass.

We just made $111,000 in one night.

Exactly. I figure I got enough
to go to Miami.

And do what?

I don't know. Shit, get a car,
get a place maybe, you know?

Maybe start a business.
A bar out on the beach.

Something like that.

I could quit drinking and run the place.

Maybe marry a waitress.

What?

You ain't gonna do shit except go
down there and drink your fucking ass off.

You're gonna piss everything away,

and end up counting the days
till next Christmas.

You'd like that, wouldn't you?

It ain't gonna happen.

If I call you next December...
If I call you next December,

you're gonna be so happy to hear from me,
you're gonna do a goddamn back flip.

You're gonna put that Santa hat on so fast
that you're gonna get fucking hatburn.

Can I get you guys two more?

No, thanks, we're all right.

See? I'm already on the wagon.

Miami Beach
Several months later

Asshole, how many times I got to tell you?
Get out from behind my bar!

Put the drink down right now!
Put the drink down right now!

-Fuck you.
-Fuck me?

Fuck you!

-Asshole!
-Get the fuck out of here right now!

Fucking shit! Fuck you!

Fuck you! Fuck you!

Yeah, baby.

You want to play Hide the Nazi one day?

God damn it.

Here you go, sweetie.

I've got something for your pretty ass.

-You do?
-Yeah.

Wow. $5. Thanks.

I got to listen to my messages.
You need to take a shower.

I'm a dancer. I sweat.

You smell like a bum's nut sack.

Fuck you.

Message one.

This is Andrew Caplan again,
calling from the collection agency.

Message two.

This is Dolores Axelrod.
You ran into my car last week.

I called State Farm, but they have no record
of any insurance policy for you.

In case you misplaced it,
my phone number is...

Message three.

Willie, it's Marcus.
It's that time of year again.

Pack your shit. Phoenix.

Phoenix, Arizona
Several days later

Jesus Christ!

Can you maybe keep it together
for just 10 minutes?

Harrison, just let me explain, please.
Financially...

You get what you pay for.

Five Christmases I've been here,
and now what?

You flip me for some stranger
who'll do it for peanuts,

and who happens to work
with a real midget?

Let me tell you something. Nobody cares.

Nobody comes here for the elf.
Santa's the attraction!

I do Burl Ives songs.
Does this schmo even play guitar?

Harrison, it's not about the money
or the midget.

Believe me, if it was...

I don't think they like "midget."
I think you're supposed to call them...

Oh, just forget it!

Hacks!

Hi. Bob Chipeska.

Welcome. Great photo and r�sum�,
by the way.

Thanks. We've been at this a long time
and all,

so we'd like to think we do a good job.

I'm so glad you guys could come in
on such short notice.

-...affect your performance in any way.
-Oh, no...

-Performance?
-Yes, your performance. You know, the...

Performance, like sexual?

Excuse me?

Are you saying there's something wrong
with my gear?

-Is that what you're saying to me?
-I'm sorry. Your gear?

My fuckstick.

Willie, take a seat.
You know how your blood sugar is.

He's not going to say "fuckstick"
in front of the children, is he?

No. It's a joke.

An adult joke. For us adults.

It's a joke, just a joke.

-"Fuckstick"?
-Yes, I thought it was very strange, too.

So as our security chief,
I wanted you to, you know, be aware.

His little friend promised he wouldn't say it
in front of the children.

Which is fine, because, you know,

there is an adult world and a child's world,
and that's okay.

-I'm no censor.
-Little friend?

Yes, he happens to be a dwarf,

or midget.

I don't know what he's called exactly,
but he's a little guy.

Little Billy Barty, God rest.

But thin fingers, not the fat sausage fingers.

"Little people," that's what they like.

Yes, right.

So, "fuckstick." That's it?

Yeah.

Merry Christmas! Santa's coming.

Have you seen that new Santa
they just hired?

Yeah. He's back there, drunk.

He's coming, guys.
Santa will be here real soon.

-God damn it!
-What the fuck you doing?

You blow this and we're broke
for the whole year.

So stop acting like you know something,
because, pal of mine, you don't know squat!

Now put on your hat and get out there.

And try to act professional,
for Christ's sake!

What do you want? What?

Get out of here. Next!

Oh, good. What do you want?

What do you want?

What are you doing?

-God damn it!
-Nintendo Deer Hunter III.

I don't give a shit what you want.

Blowing snot all over everybody
and fucking whatever.

Next. Come on.

What do you want?

-Santa?
-Yeah, I'm Santa.

-Come on, what do you want?
-Barbie.

Say cheese.

Okay, fine, Barbie. Thank you.

Watch the toenails, kid! Shit. Next.

-What do you want?
-A Fraggle-Stick car.

-What the fuck is that?
-Fraggle-Stick car.

I heard you. A Fraggle-Stick car, fine.

Check out this loser.

Hey, fat-ass, how you doing today?

Hey, loser. Hey, dipshit. Moron.

Hey, loser, how you doing today?

Dumbass, why don't you turn around?

You know what? Fuck this.

-You're next.
-Next.

I said "next," God damn it.
This is not the DMV, all right?

Move it along.

What's your name? You can tell me.

I know. How about Santa?

If you don't tell him,
you won't get a present.

That's right.
Come on and tell Santa all about it.

What do you want?

Well, come on, what do you want?
A snot rag?

Great. Another fucking mongoloid.

Marcus, get this kid off me
before he pisses on me, all right?

-Don't fuck with my beard.
-It's not real.

No shit.

Well, it was real, but I got sick
and all the hair fell out,

-so I have to wear this fucking thing.
-How did you get sick?

-I loved a woman who wasn't clean.
-Mrs Santa?

-No, it was her sister.
-What's it like at the North Pole?

-Like the suburbs.
-Which one?

Apache Junction.
What the fuck do you care?

Now get off my lap.
You just sit there like a fucking retard.

You are really Santa, right?

No, I'm an accountant.

I wear this fucking thing
as a fashion statement, all right?

Okay.

Marcus, get this kid out of here.
He's freaking me out.

I got to get a drink. I'll see you tomorrow.

Just don't come in to work
stinking of booze again.

Why don't you get going?

You'll be late for your
Wizard of Oz Candy Bar Guild.

Lollipop Guild, you asshole.

Jeez, a 2-year-old could flip me shit
better than you.

You saying something to me?

Yeah. I'm gonna stick my whole fist
up your ass.

What?

Another Grand Dad, Santa?

-Yeah.
-Yeah?

Got a name?

So what do you do,
you know, after the holidays, I mean?

Nothing till March,
and then I'm the Easter Bunny.

-Another?
-Why not?

Merry Christmas.

You're not a big talker.

No, not really.

-Buy you one?
-Why not?

Happy New Year.

You're pretty regular for a Santa.

It's not that big a fucking deal.
It's just a job, you know what I mean?

I'm an eating, drinking, shitting,
fucking Santa Claus.

Prove it.

Fuck me, Santa.

-Can I at least take this hat off?
-No!

-I love the hat!
-Oh, okay.

I've always had a thing for Santa Claus.

In case you didn't notice.

It's like some deep-seated childhood thing.

So is my thing for tits.

Yeah. It is like that, though, you know.
From when you're a kid.

'Cause my dad was Jewish
and we didn't have Christmas,

so it was like this forbidden thing.

I like you.

Don't mothball that suit.

-What the fuck?
-I am not gay.

-What the hell, buddy?
-Buddy? I said I am not gay.

Are you off your fucking meds
or something?

Yes. But that isn't what this is about.

-You're as queer as a $10 bill.
-Let me tell you something, motherfucker.

My brother lost a goddamn arm
fighting you fuckers in Vietnam.

So I want you to look at me.
Look at my face one last fucking time.

This is the last thing
you're gonna see before...

Stop, elf-fucker! Turn around, elf-fucker!

Who's the bitch now, Santa Claus?
Faggy Claus!

-Leave Santa alone!
-Little boy, don't interfere.

-I'm doing this for all of us.
-Leave Santa alone!

Good God!

Ass clown!

You're that kid.

What the fuck are you doing here?

This one fucking time
I take you home, okay?

I'm not your fucking dada.

It's not like you helped me back there
with that nut job, you know?

But you're the right height,
you're right there to grab his balls.

-You could twist them...
-Why do you need a car?

-What the fuck you talking about?
-This car.

-Which turn is it?
-Sage Terrace. Where's your sleigh?

It's in the shop, getting repaired.

-Where are the reindeer?
-I stabled them. Is it left or right?

That way. Where's the stable?

-Next to the shop.
-How do they sleep?

-Who? The reindeer? Standing up.
-But the noise, how do they sleep?

-What noise?
-From the shop.

They only work during the day, all right?

I thought it was always night
at the North Pole.

Not now. Right now it's always day.

-Then how do they sleep?
-Shit, Sage Terrace.

What is it with you, anyway?
Somebody drop you on your fucking head?

On my head?

Yeah. Are they gonna drop you
on somebody else's head?

-How can they drop me onto my own head?
-No, not onto your own...

God damn it! Are you fucking with me?

-Okay, which house is it?
-That one.

-With Jesus and his family there?
-No, the one beside that.

-Right here?
-Yeah, that one.

Nice digs.

Is Daddy home?

He's on an adventure, exploring mountains.
He's been gone a long time.

Exploring mountains?
How long is he gonna be gone?

-Till next year.
-Yeah? What about Mommy?

She lives in God's house,
with Jesus and Mary and the Ghost,

the long-eared donkey,
and Joseph and the talking walnut.

-Who the fuck takes care of you then?
-Grandma.

Yeah? What's her name?

Grandma.

Is Granny spry?

Grandma?

Santa's here.

Roger, you're home.

Are you spry?

Let me fix you some sandwiches.

Are you telling me
that she's the only one here?

Nobody else?

No aunts or cousins or uncles
or anything like that?

-A butler or security guard or something?
-No.

You're shitting me.

Does your daddy have a safe?

-Do you need money to fix your sleigh?
-Exactly.

-Do you want milk and cookies?
-No.

Should I fix you some sandwiches?

Does your daddy have a car?

Bye, Santa!

-Mary!
-Go on.

Jesus!

Oh, Sainted.

-Mary!
-Keep going.

Jesus Christ!

Yeah, baby!
You ain't gonna shit right for a week!

It won't happen again,
I can promise you that.

Willie has low blood sugar, that's all.

That's right, I forgot to take my pill.

It's not just the swearing.

Forgive me for prying, but did one of you...

-Fornicate?
-Fornicate?

Yes, with a heavyset woman
in the Big and Tall dressing room?

I've boned a lot of fat chicks
in my time, sure,

but as far as I can recall,
I've never fornicated anybody.

Even still, I think it's best
for all parties considered if we...

If we what?

I have someone else
interested in the position.

Before you do something stupid,
you may want to think about this shit.

What are you talking about?

I'm talking about firing a little black midget.

A coloured, African-American small person,
that's what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about your face all over goddamn
USA Today, is what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about 150 of these little
motherfuckers all over the sidewalk.

Little picket signs,
chanting and raving, using little bullhorns

and shit like that.
Screaming and hollering your name out.

"Unfair practices." You get me?

No. This is not a handicapped thing.

I have nothing against you people.

"You people"?

Did you hear that, Marcus?
He said "you people."

-Who the hell is us people?
-Wait, no. You don't...

What? No.

You know, I think it's best
if we just forget we had this conversation.

Okay. Good thinking.

And don't worry about us, we'll be fine.

Let's get the hell out of here, Marcus.

You're pathetic.

I dig that little thing in your bellybutton.
What is that, like a diamond?

It's a bellybutton ring.

Hang on a second. Check this out.

You gotta thrust,
you know what I'm saying?

You got to move the ball around,
know what I'm saying?

See? Move the ball.

Motherfucker.

You lousy fucking motherfucker.

-That kind of shit's gonna get us pinched!
-She said she was 18.

But you promised no arcades.
You said you'd only hustle Big and Tall.

What, you shat me out of your womb?
You're fucking my mom now?

I don't need any goddamn lectures
out of you.

I know how to keep a low profile, thank you.

What the fuck is this, Mr Low Profile?

Mind your own goddamn business.

Ever hear of the open bottle law?

A couple of days ago,
I was in Women's Big and Tall,

and I heard these,

you know, these noises,

and I heard a woman screaming,
"Yeah! Oh, yeah!"

And I heard his voice saying,

"That's right. You ain't going to...

"S-H-I-T right for a month."

Now, don't get me wrong.

I was against the Clinton impeachment.
What a man does with his own penis...

Oval Office, Women's Big and Tall...

...is not for the American people to say.

-Yeah, right.
-But when

you're dealing with children,

they have a tender sensibility,

and you are in a position of trust,
I think perhaps

someone who has screaming orgasms
with large women shouldn't...

-Of course, I can't fire him for that.
-Yeah. Unfair practices.

Special pleading. Bitch, bitch, bitch.
Fucking broads.

I just can't help it,
there's something about the guy

-that makes me uneasy.
-Well, sure.

Santa fucking someone in the ass...

So, maybe there's something
I could fire him for.

-Yeah, I get you.
-Do you?

Do you think you could find something?

Shit, yeah. Always something.

Shit.

Opal!

-Come here!
-Screw you, Willie, and your kinky ass.

Last time, I didn't shit right for a week.

No, it's not that.
Just come here, I need to talk to you.

I'm tired of you, Willie.

Who the fuck is in my room?
Did you see somebody go in my room?

Yeah. Some guy asking about you.
Looked like a cop.

Shit.

Marcus, it's Willie.
Listen, I just got back to the motel

and some guy's in there
nosing around in my room.

-What guy? You get a look at him?
-No, but I think he's a cop, though.

-Think somebody's onto us?
-ls there anything professional in the room?

No, I just got clothes in there.

Just ditch, you idiot.
You got anywhere to sack out for a while?

-Santa!
-Yeah.

-You're bringing my present early?
-No.

But I never told you what I wanted.

I said I didn't bring it, dipshit.

Okay, good. I want a stuffed elephant.
A pink one.

Wish in one hand and shit in the other one,
see which one fills up first.

Okay.

I'm gonna be staying here for a while.
Things are all fucked up at the North Pole.

See, Mrs Santa caught me fucking her sister

and I'm out on my ass now.
She got half of everything.

Yeah, this is going to be cool.
This will do fine.

I'm going to be crashing here.

It'll be just you and me,
like roommates, you know?

Do you and Mrs Santa have kids?

No, thank the fuck Christ.

What about the elves?

Well, they stay with Mrs Santa.

I get them on the weekends.
Why don't you go run me a bath?

What about the reindeer?

Would you please shut up about reindeer?

What are their names?

-Who?
-The elves.

Shit, I can't remember.
I think one of them is Sneezy,

-and there's a Dopey and...
-That's the Seven Dwarfs.

Are you shitting me? I was thinking it was...

I don't know. Fuck, kid,
I just call them, you know, "bub."

I say, "bub" or "chief," whatever.
I tell them to make the goddamn toys.

What the fuck is wrong with you?
I can't remember this shit!

Does everything with you
have to be a fucking test?

How old are they?

-You want cookies?
-No.

-Warm milk?
-No.

-Should I fix you some sandwiches?
-I don't want any fucking sandwiches.

What is it with you
and fixing fucking sandwiches?

-Okay. Do you want anything else?
-No.

Okay.

Santa?

-What?
-I brought you some orange juice.

-What's in it?
-Oranges.

Look what I have.

An Advent calendar.

What the hell is that?

It's the story of Christmas, but in a calendar.

Every day you peel open a new box,
you get part of the story,

and then there's a chocolate inside.

Do you want to open up today's box
and read it?

No, you go ahead.

Jesus Christ, kid, watch the nuts!

"So, Joseph went out from the town
of Nazareth, in Galilee,

"to Judea, to Bethlehem, the town of David.

"In those days, Caesar Augustus
issued a decree

"that a census should be taken
of the entire Roman world.

"Everyone went to his hometown
to register."

-That it?
-Yup.

That's an awesome fucking story, kid.

There's more to it,
but we have to wait till tomorrow.

Do you wanna eat the chocolate?

You go ahead.

Are you coming downstairs?

I'll be down in a minute.
I gotta go to work.

Fuck me, fuck you.

You can't just take up with some kid.

You don't know who's around
or what they do.

You got some nerve, you little shit.

What, you're my mom now?
You shat me out of your womb?

You said that yesterday, you stupid fuck.

Shit.

Fuck you.

You are, by far, the dumbest,
most pathetic piece of maggot-eating shit

that has ever slid
from a human being's hairy ass.

What if the kid has one of those play dates
they have now?

Are you shitting me?
The kid don't have any friends.

He don't even have an imaginary friend,
unless he ditched him.

He lives with his drooling
ass old grandmother,

who sits in front of the TV all the time.

Think she's gonna rat me out?

She don't know her ass from last Tuesday.

You fuck her?

Jesus Christ,
is everything fucking sex with you?

With me? I fuck one person.

I ain't serial fornicating,
trying to float my liver,

drinking myself silly because I can't stand
what a piece of shit I am!

What are you,
Sigmund sawed-off fucking Freud?

Yeah, that's right, shit for brains.
Go ahead, talk about my height.

Make it about something safe,

because you're
an emotional fucking cripple.

Your soul is dog shit. Every single
fucking thing about you is ugly.

Come on, Lois, let's get out of here.

Look who's here, Jimmy. It's Santa.

Fucking great.

Let's tell him what you want for Christmas.

I'm on my fucking lunch break, okay?

Are you insane?

-The management's gonna hear about this.
-You think that's a threat?

If you think you can make my fucking life
any worse, go right ahead.

Be my fucking guest. Take a shot.

Just looking.

Find everything you're looking for?

Yeah, thank you.

Nothing I can help you with?

No, I'm just looking at the games
because I have an XBox.

What? Get your hand out of my pants, man!

If you're stealing from this store,
you're stealing from me.

What is this?

-I was going to pay for it.
-Wrong answer.

When I look at you, you know what I think?

I think America has a sad future ahead of it,

and you're part of this sorry-ass generation.

-What do you wanna be when you grow up?
-I don't know.

-This is MP3?
-Yeah.

Take it off.

-But my grandmother gave me this.
-Take it off!

I don't care who gave it to you. Take it off.

I don't care if it chokes you to death.

Now I want you to get on out of here. Get!

-But can I have...
-Get! Happy Kwanza.

And pull your damn pants up!

What's wrong with you kids these days?

-Gin?
-Yeah.

-What do you need?
-I need you to run a plate for me.

-It's Arizona plates.
-Hold on, let me get a pen.

Is that it?

For Christ's sake,
make a move and stick with it, would you?

King me.

Son of a bitch!

You lousy, cheating little shit!

You're fucking with me!
You did it on purpose.

You sit there
and play like dead lice are falling off you,

and suddenly you're like fucking Seabiscuit
all over the place.

You're a smartass is what you are, kid.

Wanna play again?

Howdy. Herb Gunner.

I live two streets over
on Burning Trail Road.

I don't think we've met.

I'm Uncle Willie.

I'm organising all the decorations
for the subdivision this year.

-You mind if I come in?
-Yeah.

I mean, yeah, I mind.

Okay. Will you be participating
in our luminarias programme this year?

-What the hell is a lunamaria?
-Luminarias.

Small sacks filled with
about a pound of sand each.

Then we insert a candle in the middle,
we light it, and the bag glows.

Then we line all the sidewalks here,
all around the neighbourhood.

Well, you see, we don't celebrate Christmas
around here, so...

We're Muslims.

Look, this is my first year running this.

I'd like it if there weren't gaps in it,

so what if I come by Christmas Eve
and do it for you?

You don't have to do that. I'll do it.

Me and the kid here, we'll do something.

I got the supplies.
I'll throw them in the garage.

-Perfect.
-Awesome.

I'm going in the garage, just so you know.

You can make
a delicious six-pound chicken,

enough hot dogs and sausages
to feed a small army,

not one,
but two delicious rotisserie chickens,

a six-and-a-half-pound honey ham...

Fuck me, Santa.

...or freshly-caught whole trout,

a scrumptious six-and-a-half pound
standing rib roast,

and everybody's favourite, baby back ribs.

This is such a nice house.

It needs a woman's touch, though.

I just rent the fucking place, anyway.

-Yeah, I just rent stuff, too.
-Yeah?

Here's your drink.

How long are you gonna be here?

On the couch?

No, in town.

Just through the holidays.

You know, and then move on.

So, do you like kids?

Fuck, no!

What do you think,
I'm some kind of pervert?

I just mean because you're Santa Claus.

I like kids. I really like kids.

-You do?
-I love kids.

Oh, yeah, good.

Yeah, they're something else, kids.

Gotta tell you the truth.

The fact of the matter is I'm not Santa.

I like you anyway.

-So, you'll call me, right?
-Yeah, I'll call you.

I'm gonna buy you some flowers,
some of those really good expensive ones.

Shut up.

Bye.

Roger, you're home.
Let me fix you some sandwiches.

What the fuck?
Kid, what the fuck is wrong with you?

Jesus Christ! Let me see it!

-What the hell happened to you?
-I cut my hand by mistake!

Of course it was by mistake.

Hold still.

I'm just trying to help you!

I forgot to say it's going to sting a little bit.

Shouldn't I wrap it in a T-shirt
or something?

God damn it.

Hey, kid?

Kid, you okay up there?

You need a Band-Aid or something?

Oh, shit.

You're late.

Man, kids. Let me tell you.

They run you ragged.

Good morning, team.

It's not quite 8:00 yet.

How close are we?

Now it's 8:00. Merry Christmas.

Up your ass.

God damn it!

You tear your ball again?

I don't think so.

That's it.

God damn it!

Sweetheart, don't romance them.
Go on and get in there, I can take it.

-Yeah?
-I got the info on that Arizona plate.

All right, now you're talking.
Hold on one minute.

Baby, don't use that. That's not the stuff.

Use something with some gloss to it.

Yeah, that Hard Candy, that's it there.

Let me get some of that. Yeah, that's it.

-Yeah, I'm back.
-The guy's Roger Merman.

-Guess where he is.
-Give it to me.

Damn it, what's wrong with you, woman?

-Who are you?
-Your name Roger Merman?

-Yes, but...
-You doing three to six for embezzlement?

Well, many accounting questions
are not cut and dried.

Do you live at 41 Sage Terrace?

Is it Grandma?
Is my son all right?

They're fine.
Do you have any houseguests?

Houseguests?

Thank you for your time. God bless.

Who are you?

Houseguests?

Little trick I learned up at the North Pole.

If you fry baloney, it tastes like a hot dog.

I thought you didn't like sandwiches.

This is not a sandwich. A sandwich
has two pieces of bread with junk on it.

It's like a tostada.

This is not a tostada.

Here you go, Granny.

A little salsa here.

Now it's a tostada.

-Have you seen my Advent calendar?
-What the fuck is it with the calendar?

Why are you so obsessed with that
goddamn thing? The story sucks anyway.

-I think I saw it out there in the hallway.
-Really?

I think so.

It looks like someone
messed with my Advent calendar.

What are you talking about?
Let me see.

Nobody messed with it.
It looks fine.

There's a Candy Corn in this one.

Well, they can't all be winners, can they?

Well, it's fucked.

-Fucked, frankly.
-He's...

Clean.

-As a fucking whistle.
-Nothing?

-No. Nothing. I mean, shit.
-Yeah.

-He curses.
-Yeah?

But never around children.

No criminal record.
No parking tickets, for Christ's sake.

-Nothing?
-No bad habits, even.

Sex, yeah. But man is a sexual being.

-Yeah.
-Fucking Darwinian.

-Can't do shit about that, Jack.
-No.

Hell, I wouldn't want to.

No, of course not.
I'm not advocating celibacy.

Hope not.
It'd be the end of the fucking human race.

-Yeah.
-He fucks large women.

What can I say?

Look, it's the retard again.

-Wedgie.
-Yeah!

-Well, what the hell do you want?
-Pok�mon!

Done.

You probably shouldn't be digging
in your ass.

Santa?

Oh, jeez.

-Is that your underwear?
-Part of it.

Where the hell is the rest of it?

No, don't tell me.
I don't wanna know. What do you want?

I was thinking I wanted
a purple stuffed elephant, not pink.

-But now I changed my mind.
-Yeah, what?

I don't want an elephant at all.

I want a gorilla named Davey
for beating up the skateboard kids

who pull on my underwear.

And he can take his orders
from the talking walnut,

so it wouldn't be my bad thing.

Jesus, kid, when I was your age,
I didn't need no fucking gorilla,

and I wasn't as big as one of your legs.

Four kids beat me up once and I went
crying to my dad. Know what he did?

-He made it all better?
-No. He kicked my ass. You know why?

Because you went to the bathroom
on Mommy's dishes?

What the fuck? No.

He tried to teach you not to cry
and be a man?

No. It's because he was a mean,
drunk son of a bitch.

And when he wasn't busy busting my ass,
he was putting cigarettes out on my neck.

The world ain't fair. You gotta take
what you need when you can get it.

You gotta learn to stand up for yourself.

You have to quit being a pussy and kick
these kids in the balls or something.

Or don't. Shit, I don't care.
Just leave me the hell out of it.

-Now get on out of here.
-Okay. Thanks, Santa.

Well, go get
the next lucky boy or girl, okay?

All right, next.

Open the ropes there, Marcus.

-I know you?
-Not yet.

Seven cities in seven years.
Pretty impressive.

The store changes, your name changes.
You always get away clean.

Yeah. Pretty darn impressive.

But let's face the facts.
You're a couple of half-bucket smalltimers,

and you, because of
your physical attributes, you found a niche.

I respect that. But you've also been caught.

By me.

So this is how it's gonna be.

I don't wanna take over.
I don't even want to change your scam.

Whatever you guys do, it works.
All I want is a taste.

When the deal is done, we part ways.

I buy a little ranch in Havasu,

and you all take your little medicine show
back on the road.

-How much?
-Half.

-No fucking way! You're out of your mind.
-Easy, Willie. Back off.

I got this.

Okay, 30%. There's three of us.
30%, that's fair.

Half.

-I meant 33%.
-I meant half.

-And a third.
-Half.

35%.

Half.

40%.

Half.

42%.

45%.

Half.

48%?

Half.

-49%.
-Half.

-Well, what's one point?
-We split the dough down the middle.

Any merchandise you take,
I get to look at and cherry pick.

No! Money's one thing,
but you ain't getting a...

This ain't no Chinese menu, jack-off.

I tell you how it's gonna be.

This is prix fixe.

-Prix fixe?
-He's a fucking moron.

Really?
Is that how you got the upper hand?

-Fuck you!
-Negotiating?

You don't like it? Next year, fuck off.
I can get another box jockey.

-And I can get another midget, too.
-Yeah, where?

You see us hanging off of fucking trees
like fucking crab apples?

Even if we did, you'd never front
your own racket. You know why, Willie?

Because you got no discipline,
you got zero fucking initiative.

You'd fall apart without me.
You're just too pathetic for words.

You're a fucking loser
and you fucking know it!

Santa will be here real soon, kids, real soon.

There he is.

Oh, no.

Sweet Jews for Jesus!

I pissed myself.

What the fuck do you think you're doing?
You son of a bitch!

Hey, come on!

Get him out of here.
I'll smooth things over with Chipeska.

Tell him food poisoning or something.

-What do you mean, get him out of here?
-Take him to the car.

In case you hadn't noticed,
I'm a motherfucking dwarf.

So unless you got a forklift handy,
maybe you should lend a hand.

That figures.
You want all kinds of set-asides.

Special treatment because
you're handicapped. You're all the same.

Special treatment?
I'm 3 foot fucking tall, you asshole!

It's a matter of physics. Draw me a sketch
of how to get him to the car.

Bitch, bitch, bitch.

Sketch it up, you fucking moron.
Fucking Leonardo da Vinci.

What'd you call me?

I called you a fucking guinea homo from
the 15th fucking century, you dickhead.

I could stick you in my ass, small fry.

Yeah? You sure it ain't too sore
from last night?

You got some lip on you, midget.

Well, these lips
were on your wife's pussy last night.

Why don't you dust that thing off
once in a while? Asshole!

-I pissed my pants.
-Oh, shut up!

"Santa Has Gone To Feed His Reindeer
He'll Be Back Soon!"

Santa.

Santa?

What?

What are you doing?

Nothing.

You going to work today?

Not really.

You just gonna sit there?

Yeah. Just let me alone, okay?

-Wait a minute. Kid?
-Yeah?

I want you to take this letter.

When the paramedics come to bag Santa up

there's gonna be some cops there.

I want you to make sure
that those cops get that envelope.

What is it?

It just tells all the bad things that...

What the fuck happened to your eye?

Fucking little prick!

You like to give little kids black eyes?

How about you? You want some?

Anybody else? Come on.
Yeah, there you go!

You know, I think I've turned a corner.

Yeah? You fucking petites now?

No, I'm not talking about that.

I beat the shit out of some kids today.

But it was for a purpose.

It made me feel good about myself.

It was like I did something constructive
with my life or something, I don't know.

Like I accomplished something.

You need many years of therapy.

Many, many, many fucking years of therapy.

You don't drink,
which is smart on your part,

but being sober can put you at
a disadvantage when it comes to violence.

Me, I can't box worth a shit, see?

But I'm good in a fight
because I can't feel anything.

You, you're gonna feel everything.

Now put your dukes up,
let me see what you got.

This is bullshit!

Give me one good reason
why I should even consider doing this now.

'Cause I let 2,000 kids spit
in my fucking face for your ass, that's why.

I'm asking you for this one thing.
Come on, look at the kid.

-He is pathetic.
-I don't know. He's just a little...

He's a fucking retard.

Yeah, let's show him a couple of things
so he can defend himself then.

Unless you're scared.

All right, then, here's what's gonna happen.
Marcus is a bully, right?

He's gonna pull your underwear
up out of your pants. Now what do you do?

-I don't know.
-What do you mean, you don't know?

If somebody wants to pull your underwear
out of your pants, you have to get mad.

Yeah, kid. Come on, get mad.

Scream at him.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Listen to him, he's a fucking faggot.

Loud, scream, be loud, be mean!
Piss him off! Come on!

You don't hit people in the balls,
you asshole!

What's wrong with you? He's just a kid!

Fuck you, Willie!

I told you I didn't wanna do this!
Making me...

Shit.

Kid, maybe you shouldn't
spend so much time around me.

You sneaky little prick.

Fuck you! You little bastard!

Get off me!

God damn it, I forgot about that.
Feels like a nursing home around here.

We can go in another room.

She does look kind of still, doesn't she?

Hey, Granny?

Hey, Granny.

Hey there, Granny?

-Oh, my God.
-What the fuck?

I don't feel shit.

-God damn it! Shit! Jesus Christ!
-You're home.

-Please, for Christ's sake!
-Let me fix you some sandwiches.

-Hello, little boy.
-Hello. Santa?

I know that Christmas Eve
is in a couple days,

and you have to fly around the world
and give presents to everyone,

and you won't be around anymore.

-Yeah?
-So I thought I'd give you your present now.

-What the fuck is it?
-It's a wooden pickle.

Why did you paint it brown?

It's not paint. It's blood
from when I cut my hand making it for you.

Well, shit, kid, I don't know...

Thanks.

You're welcome.

Good night, Santa.

Good night, Mrs Santa's sister.

Good night, sweetie.

Oh, my God.

That was so sweet.
He's a really sweet kid, isn't he?

Yeah, I guess so.

Come on, baby.

Come here.

What?

Oh, nothing. I'm all right.

I'm just a little tired.

Santa!

God damn it! Whoa! Shit!

Wanna see my report card?

-You scared the holy shit out of me.
-Think I did good?

How would I know?
I haven't seen the fucking thing yet.

Who the fuck is Thurman?
Is that you?

-Is your name Thurman?
-Yeah.

-Thurman Merman?
-Yeah.

Jesus.

So you think I did good?

What do you care what I think, anyway?

I guess you did better than I did.
I never got any B's.

I thought maybe
at least since I did good in school,

maybe you'd bring me a present?

Because last year and the year before that,
you didn't bring me any presents.

Even though I'm a dipshit loser.

Jesus fucking Christ, kid!
Why do you talk about yourself that way?

Let me give you some news.
I'm not Santa Claus, all right?

Take a look at me.
Do I look like Santa Claus?

As a matter of fact, I'm living, fucking proof
that there's not a Santa Claus.

I know there's no Santa.

I just thought maybe you'd wanna
give me a present because we're friends.

There he is, that lousy, leather-faced,
frog-eyed motherfucker.

Jesus, Mother Mary, and Joseph.
What is the problem now?

I'm sorry, but the van stalled.
Will you give us a jump, please?

I'll be dipped in dog shit.
Do I look like an auto mechanic to you?

I appreciate it.

All right, small fry, help yourself.

-I can't reach it.
-Jesus Christ, give me that!

Thanks.

All right, hit it.

Oh, my, what a terrible accident.

-Is he dead?
-No.

But it looks like you broke most of his ribs.

I'd say maybe 50% of them,
or do you think 30%?

I needed more of a running start.
I couldn't build up enough speed.

Merry Christmas Eve.

I got you a little something.

You shouldn't have.
Let's put that shit in the kitchen.

Goddamn, you look good.

Here you go.

You're behind there, sweetie.

We don't need any more of this shit.

"Christmas keeps us connected
to each other in peace.

"The angel is going to
kill everyone in the world."

Aspirin?

Shit! Jesus!

Santa?

-What?
-I was gonna make some sandwiches.

I could make you one before you leave.

Listen, kid, I don't know.
I got shit to do and everything.

Okay, make me some sandwiches.

I gotta go to the mall
and talk to somebody. I'll be back.

-For dinner?
-Yeah, that's what I said.

How many sandwiches do you want?

-A bunch.
-How much lettuce do you want?

I don't know, the usual amount.

Whatever the hell people do.
Whatever you think.

Okay.

Have a very merry Christmas. Good night.

Merry Christmas.

-Good night.
-Okay. Happy holiday.

Attention, shoppers.
The store will be closing in five minutes.

We wish you all a merry Christmas,
happy Hanukkah, and a joyous Kwanza.

All right, hold it steady.

Yeah, shit, let's do it.

Christ.

Merry Christmas.

Good night.

-Merry Christmas, Willie.
-Up your ass.

"Arming.."

"Cancelled"

Shit.

What?

-That's a Kitnerboy Redoubt.
-So?

-Remember Andy Pitts?
-Andy Pittsarella? Yeah.

No, Andy Rapicki.
Andy Pittsarella was Andy "Blue Balls."

Since he got married,
we call him Andy Pittsarella.

-What's your fucking point?
-They say he can get into anything.

Anything. They say he's been
in Margaret Thatcher's pussy.

And that's a good thing?
So what the fuck are you getting at?

When I was in the joint with him, he told me
that the Kitnerboy Redoubt can't be cracked.

Are you shitting me?

Are you telling me
that after I propped you up,

held you together, smiled for all those kids,

danced for all those fucking housewives

in a fucking lime green,
fucking velvet elf costume,

that you cannot get in this fucking safe?

Is that what you're telling me?

No, I'm just saying
it's going to take a minute.

Fuck.

Shit.

34C.

Fuck!

Piece of cake.

I gotta get one more thing.
I'll be right back.

Shit. Which one did he say?

I'll bet the store dick don't want this.

Store dick don't want shit.

What do you mean?

Store dick's dead.

Store dick don't want shit.

He's dead?

I didn't even know he was sick.

Willie, this has been a long time coming.

Every year, you're worse.
Every year, less reliable.

More booze, more bullshit,
more butt-fucking.

Sure, the three B's.

You gotta be able to rely, Willie.

You people are monsters.

There's no joy in this for me.

I'm not talking about you taking me out.
That part I get.

But look at all that shit.

Do you really need all that shit?

For Christ's sakes, it's Christmas.

It is Christmas, Willie,
but this is what we do.

We get the shit.

Christmas time, we get the shit.

Because we are men and Lois.

It is Christmas, Willie,
and we are men and Lois.

What you waiting for, honey?
Come on, plug him.

I've been waiting for too long.

Goodbye, Willie.

Drop the gun!

And you, Santa, drop the elephant.

-Where did you come from?
-Get down.

Shit, the fucking kid.

All three of you are in so much shit,
it's almost unbelievable.

Marcus, hop on!

Fuck me.

This is Christmas,
and the kid's getting his fucking present.

Stop, police! Put your hands up.
I said freeze!

Freeze!

Dear kid,

I hope that you got my present
and that there wasn't too much blood on it.

Although there was blood
on the present you gave me,

which didn't keep me from enjoying it.

So maybe the blood doesn't matter so much,
I guess.

Anyway, just in case
they took it as evidence,

I'm also sending you a T-shirt.
I hope it's the right size.

I'm healing up good,
and they tell me that I will soon be 100%,

even with eight bullets dug out of me,
because they didn't hit any vital organs.

Just my liver, which is fucked anyway.

Thank you for giving that letter to the cops.

I forgot I asked you to do it,
but it's a good thing you did

or Santa's litte helper
would have plugged his ass.

Now the cops know I wrote it,
which will keep my ass out of jail.

That, plus everyone agreeing

that the Phoenix Police Department
shooting an unarmed Santa

was even more fucked up than Rodney King.

The cops are treating me
like fucking royalty now,

which is new in my experience.

They're gonna make me
a sensitivity counselor,

so that tragedies like this

will never again embarrass
the whole fucking department.

Meanwhile, I told the cops
you had no one to take the fuck care of you.

So they set it up
with Mrs Santa's sister watching you

until your dad gets back
in one year and three months.

They made her a guardian pro temp,
or some such shit.

Anyway, she seems to like you
and your house and Jacuzzi.

I sent her some money,
so if you play your cards right

you can probably get her
to buy you something.

As for my litte helper,
I'm sorry to have to tell you

that him and his prune-faced mail-order wife
will be exploring mountains with your dad.

I hope your dad doesn't go
sucking shit from them like I did.

They're supposed to let me out
of this hospital room soon,

so get some sandwiches ready.

Until then, don't take no shit from nobody,
least of all yourself.

Your pal, Santa.

Hey, loser.

I hear your buddy's not here
to protect you anymore.

I see you got me a new bike.

Thanks a lot.

I'm talking to you, fat-ass!