kids?
Fuck, no!
Do you think I'm some kind of pervert?
I just mean because you're Santa Claus.
Oh.
I like kids. I really like kids.
-You do? -I love kids.
Well, good.
Yeah, they're something else, those kids.
And to tell you the truth...
The fact of the matter is, I'm not Santa.
Like ya 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! Let me see it!
What the hell happened to you?!
I cut my hand by mistake! Ow!
-Of course it was by mistake. -Ow!
Here, hold still. Hold still.
I was just trying to help you!
I forgot to say, "It's gonna 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?
Aw, shit.
You're late.
Kids. Let me tell you.
They run you ragged.
Morning, team.
Hey, hey, hey.
It's not quite 8:00 yet.
Well, 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 'em, now.
Go on and get in there. I can take it.
Yeah.
Gin, I got the info on that Arizona plate.
All right. Now you're talking.
Oh, hold on one minute.
Baby, baby. Baby, baby. Don't use that one.
That's not the stuff.
Use something with some claws to it.
Yeah, that hard candy. That's it right there.
Let me get some of that. Yeah, that's it.
Okay.
Yeah, I'm back.
The guy's Roger Merman.
-Guess where he is. -Give it to me.
Ow! Damn it! What's wrong with you, woman?
Who are you?
Your name Roger Merman?
Yes. But...
You doing three to six for embezzlement?
Uh, 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.
Well, hey, 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.
Yeah, but this is not a sandwich.
A sandwich has two pieces of bread
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 fuck 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 fucked.
Yeah?
Yeah.
-Fucked, frankly. -He's...
-Clean... -Oh.
-As a fucking whistle. -Nothing?
-No. -Oh.
-Nothing. I mean shit. -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.
-Fuckin' Darwinian. -Oh.
-You can't do shit 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 fucking 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?
Pokémon!
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 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.
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 pussy.
Kick these kids in the balls or something.
Or don't. Shit, 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 fucking 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.
35%.
Half.
40%.
Half.
42%.
Half.
45%.
Half.
48%?
Half.
49%.
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 fucking moron.
Oh, really?
Is that how you got the upper hand?
Fuck you.
Negotiating?
If you don't like, next year, fuck off.
I can always get another box jockey.
I can get another midget, too.
Yeah, where?
You see us hanging off of trees like fucking crab apples?
Even if we did, you'd never front your own racket.
You know why, Willie? You got no discipline.
You got zero fuckin' initiative. You'd fall apart without me.
You're too pathetic for words.
You're a fucking loser, and you fucking know it.
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
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.
In 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 fuck do you think you doing?
You son of a bitch!
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-fucking-tall, you asshole!
It's a matter of physics.
Draw me a sketch of how I get him to the car, huh?
Bitch, bitch, bitch.
Sketch it up, you moron.
Fucking Leonardo da Vinci.
What you call me, thigh high?
I called you a fucking guinea homo
from the 1 5th-fucking-century, you dickhead!
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 pussy last night.
Why don't you dust that thing off once in a while?
Asshole.
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 fuck happened to your eye?
Fucking 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 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.
I don't know.
Like I accomplished something.
You need many years of therapy.
Many, many, many fuckin' years of therapy.
Okay. You don't drink, which is smart on your part.
But being sober can put you at a disadvantage
when it comes to violence.
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.
Okay.
Now put your dukes up. Let me see what you got.
This is bullshit!
Give me one good reason why l should even consider doing this.
'Cause I let 2,000 kids spit in my face for your ass.
That's why.
Now, I'm asking you for this one thing.
Come on, look at the kid.
He is pathetic.
Yeah, 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, 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.
God damn it! You don't know?
If somebody wants to pull your underwear up out of your pants,
you have to get mad.
Yeah, kid, come on. Get mad.
Scream at him.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Listen at him. He's a fucking faggot.
Loud! Scream!
Be loud! Be mean!
Piss him off! Come on!
Aah!
You don't hit people in the balls,
you asshole!
Aah!
What the fuck's wrong with you? He's just a kid.
-Fuck you, Willie! -Ow!
God damn it.
I told you I didn't want to do this!
Making me... Ohh!
Oh, shit.
Kid, maybe you shouldn't spend so much time around me.
You sneaky little prick.
Fuck you! Little bastard!
Get off me!
Shut up. That's not even what you said.
Oh, God damn it, I forgot about that.
We got a fucking nursing home around here.
Well, we can go in another room.
She does look kind of still, doesn't she?
Hey, Granny?
Hey, Granny.
Hey, there, Granny?
Oh, Granny.
Oh, my God.
What the fuck?
Oh, shit.
-Roger! -God!
-God damn it! Shit! -You're home.
-Please just tap me. -Let me fix 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'd you paint it brown? -It's not paint.
It's blood from when I cut my hand making it for you.
Oh.
Well, shit, kid, I don't know.
I...
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.
Just a little tired.
Oh.
Santa!
God damn it! Whoa! Shit!
Want to 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 fuckin' thing yet.
Who the fuck is Thurman?
-Is your name Thurman? -Yeah.
Thurman Merman?
Yeah.
Jesus.
So, you think I did good?
What do you care what I think, anyway?
Hell, 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.
'Cause 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 want to give me a present
'cause we're friends.
There he is.
That lousy, leather-faced, frog-eyed, motherfucker.
-Good night, Gin. -Good night.
Jesus, Mother Mary, and Joseph.
What is the problem now?
I'm sorry. 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.
Mm-mm-mmm.
-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.
Got you a little something.
You shouldn't have.
You should put that stuff in the kitchen.
God damn, you look good.
Here you go.
Little 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 tell everyone in the world."
Aspirin?
As in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more
Through the years, we all will be together
If the fates allow
Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now
Through the years, we all will be together
If the fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough
And have yourself
A merry little Christmas
Now
Shit!
Jesus.
Santa?
-What? -I was gonna make 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. Yeah.
How many sandwiches do you want?
Uh, 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.
-Merry Christmas. -Good night.
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,
a happy Hanukkah, and a joyous Kwanzaa.
All right, hold it steady.
Oh, yeah, shit, let's do it.
Oh, Christ.
Merry Christmas.
Good night.
Merry Christmas, Willie.
Up your ass.
Aaaah!
Whoa!
Oh, shit.
What?
It's a Kitnerboy Redoubt.
So?
Remember Andy Pitz?
Andy Pitzorella? Yeah.
No, Andy Ripitski.
Andy Pitzorella was Andy Blue Balls.
Since he got married, they call him Andy Pitzorella.
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 shittin' 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?! Huh?!
No, I'm just saying it's gonna take a minute.
Fuck.
Shit.
34C.
Fuck!
Piece of cake.
I gotta get one more thing. I'll be right back.
Oh, 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, huh?
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 buttfucking.
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 sakes, it's Christmas.
It is Christmas, Willie.
But this is what we do.
We get the shit.
Christmastime, 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.
Goodbye, Willie.
-Drop the gun. -Huh?!
And you, Santa, drop the elephant.
-Where did you come from? -Tipped off.
Shit, that fucking kid.
All three of you are in so much shit, it's almost unbelievable.
Marcus, hop on!
Fuck me.
Hey, hey!
This is Christmas, and the kid's getting his fucking present.
Halt, police! Put your hands up!
I said freeze! Freeze!
-Aaaah! -Aaaah!
"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 8 bullets dug out of me,
because they didn't hit any vital organs,
just my liver, which is fucked anyway.
Ha ha ha.
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 little helper would've plugged his ass.
Now the cops know I wrote it,
which is gonna keep my ass out of jail.
That, plus everyone agreeing
that the Phoenix police 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.
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 till your dad gets back
in one year and three months.
They made her a guardian pro tem 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 little helper, I'm sorry to have to tell you
that him and his prune-faced, mail-order wife
are gonna 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.
Ho ho ho.
Your pal, Santa. "
Hey, loser.
I hear your buddy's not here to protect you anymore.
See you got me a new bike.
Thanks a lot.
I'm talking to you, fat-ass!
Aaah!
Subtitles by Phaeton