25.000 English Directors Cut © 17.06.2020
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.
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.
Happy holidays. All right.
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.
-How's it going? -I'm finished when I'm finished.
I'm going back upstairs. I need a melon baller and a loofah.
Fuck the loofah, let's go.
-Marcus, you get the loofah? -Drive!
I'm dizzy. Put me down.
Put me down.
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.
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.
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?
-Asshole! -Get the fuck out of here right now!
Fucking shit! Fuck you!
Fuck you! Fuck you!
This is Andrew Caplan again, calling from the collection agency.
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...
Willie, it's Marcus. It's that time of year again.
Pack your shit. Phoenix.
Phoenix, Arizona Several days later
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!
Hi. Bob Chipeska.
Welcome. Great photo and résumé, 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?
Are you saying there's something wrong with my gear?
-Is that what you're saying to me? -I'm sorry. Your gear?
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.
So, "fuckstick." That's it?
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.
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.
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?
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.
Another Grand Dad, Santa?
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?
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.
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!
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.
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?
Is Granny spry?
Roger, you're home.
Are you spry?
Let me fix you some sandwiches.
Are you telling me that she's the only one here?
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?
-Jesus! -Keep going.
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...
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.
Did you hear that, Marcus? He said "you people."
-Who the hell is us people? -Wait, no. You don't...
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.
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.
-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.
-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.
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? -Is 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?
-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.
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.
-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.
You can't just take up with some kid.
You don't know who's around or what they do.
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?
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.
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?
-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?
Son of a bitch!
You lousy, cheating little shit!
You're fucking with me!
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...
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
Kid, you okay up there?
You need a Band-Aid or something?
Man, kids. Let me tell you.
They run you ragged.
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?
Thank you for your time. God bless.
Who are you?
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...
-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.
-Well, what the hell do you want? -Pokémon!
You probably shouldn't be digging in your ass.
-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.
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.
-I meant 33%. -I meant half.
-And a third. -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.
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!
What are you doing?
You going to work today?
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...
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 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...
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.
Oh, nothing. I'm all right.
I'm just a little tired.
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.
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.
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!
All right, hit it.
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."
-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.
Have a very merry Christmas. Good night.
-Good night. -Okay. Happy holiday.
Attention, shoppers. The store will be closing in five minutes.
We wish you all a merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, and a joyous Kwanza.
-That's a Kitnerboy Redoubt. -So?
-Remember Andy Pitts? -Andy Pittsarella? Yeah.
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?
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.
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.
Drop the gun!
-Where did you come from? -Get down.
Shit, the fucking kid. Marcus, hop on!
This is Christmas, and the kid's getting his fucking present.
Stop, police! Put your hands up. I said 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.
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!