Bad Santa Page #5

with a bunch of junk on it.

It's like a tostada.

This isn't a tostada.

There you go, Granny.

Little salsa here.

Now it's a tostada.

Have you seen|my Advent calendar?

What the f*** is it|with the Advent calendar?

Why are you so obsessed|with that goddamn thing?

The story sucks anyway.

I think I saw it in the hallway.

-Really?|-I think so.

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 f***ed.

Yeah?

Yeah.

-F***ed, frankly.|-He's...

-Clean...|-Oh.

-As a f***ing whistle.|-Nothing?

-No.|-Oh.

-Nothing. I mean sh*t.|-Yeah.

-He curses.|-Yeah?

-But never around children.|-Oh.

-No criminal record.|-Yeah.

-No parking tickets.|-Nothing.

-No bad habits, even.|-Oh.

Sex, yeah.

-But man is a sexual being.|-Yeah.

-F***in' Darwinian.|-Oh.

-You can't do sh*t about that.|-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 f***ing human race.

Yeah.

Fucks large women.

What can I say?

Hey, look,|it's the retard again.

Wedgie.

-Yeah.|-Yeah.

Well, what the hell do you want?

Pokmon!

Done.

You probably shouldn't|be digging in your ass.

Santa...

Oh, jeez.

-Is that your underwear?|-Part of it.

Where the hell's the rest of it?

No, actually, don't tell me.|What do you want?

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

But now I changed my mind.

-Yeah, what?|-Now I don't want an elephant.

I want a gorilla named Davey

for beating up the skateboard|kids who pull on my underwear.

He could 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 gorilla,

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

Four kids beat me up|and I went crying to my daddy.

-You know what he did?|-He made it all better?

No, he kicked my ass.|You know why?

'Cause you went to the bathroom|on Mommy's dishes?

What the f***?

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 b*tch.

When he wasn't 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.

Learn to stand up for yourself.|Quit being a p*ssy.

Kick these kids|in the balls or something.

Or don't.|Sh*t, I don't care.

Just leave me out of it.|Now, get on out of here.

Okay.|Thanks, Santa.

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.

But you always get away clean.

Yeah.

Pretty darn impressive.

Well, let's face the facts.

Y'all are a couple|of half-bucket small-timers.

You, because of your physical|attributes, found a niche,

and I respect that.

But you also been caught...

...by me.

So this is how it's gonna be.

I don't want to 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 deed is done,|we part ways.

I'll buy a little ranch|in Havasu,

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

-How much?|-Half.

No way! You don't know|who you're f***ing with.

Back off, Will.|I got this. I got this!

Okay. 30%.

There's three of us.|30%. That's fair.

Half.

I meant 33%...

I meant half.

...and 1/3.

Half.

Half.

Half.

Half.

Half.

Half.

Half.

Well, what's one point?

We split the dough|right down the middle.

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

No! Money's one thing,|but you ain't gettin' the --

This ain't no Chinese menu,|jagoff.

I tell you how it's gonna be.

This is pricks fix.

Pricks fix?

He's a f***ing moron.

Oh, really?

Is that how you got|the upper hand?

F*** you.

Negotiating?

If you don't like,|next year, f*** off.

I can always get|another box jockey.

I can get another midget, too.

Yeah, where?

You see us hanging off of trees|like f***ing crab apples?

Even if we did, you'd never|front your own racket.

You know why, Willie?|You got no discipline.

You got zero f***in' initiative.|You'd fall apart without me.

You're too pathetic for words.

You're a f***ing loser,|and you f***ing know it.

in a one-horse sleigh

pick up your feet

Jingle around the clock

Mix and mingle|in the jinglin' beat

That's the jingle bell rock

Santa'll be here real soon,|kids. Real soon.

Jingle bells chime|in jingle bell time

There he is.|Look.

ln jingle bell square

Oh, no.

What a bright time,|it's the right time

To rock the night away

Oh, my God!

Is a swell time

To go glidin'|in a one-horse sleigh

Giddyup, jingle horse,|pick up your feet

Jingle around the clock

Mix and mingle|in the jinglin' beat...

Sweet Jews for Jesus.

I pissed myself.

What the f***|do you think you doing?

You son of a b*tch!

Hey, hey, hey.|Hey, hey.

Hey, come on, come on.

Look, hey!|Come on, come on!

Look here.|Get him out of here.

I'll smooth things over|with Chipeska.

-Tell him food poisoning.|-"Get him out of here"?

Take him to the car.

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

So unless you got|a forklift handy,

maybe you should|lend a hand, hmm?

That figures. You want|all kind of set-asides.

Special treatment|'cause you're handicapped.

You all the same.

Special treatment?

I'm 3-foot-f***ing-tall,|you a**hole!

It's a matter of physics.

Draw me a sketch of how|I get him to the car, huh?

B*tch, b*tch, b*tch.

Sketch it up, you moron.

F***ing Leonardo da Vinci.

What you call me, thigh high?

I called you|a f***ing guinea homo

from the 1 5th-f***ing-century,|you d*ckhead!

I could stick you up 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 p*ssy last night.

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

A**hole.

I pissed my pants.

Oh, shut up.

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?

Hey, wait a minute.|Hey, 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 f*** happened|to your eye?

F***ing little prick!

So you like to give little kids|black eyes, huh?

How 'bout you, huh?!|You want some?!

Anybody else?|Anybody else? Come on!

Yeah, there you go.

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

Yeah?|You f***ing petites now?

No. I'm not talking about that.

I beat the sh*t|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.

I don't know.

Like I accomplished something.

You need many years of therapy.

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