A Christmas Story 2

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A subtitle by

There it is,

our house on good old Cleveland Street.

A few winters had passed, and yet

another one had come screaming...

...over Lake Michigan

in the middle of the night.

It had been years since the old man's lamp

stood proudly in our front window.

The legendary battle of the lamp

that locked my parents in mortal combat...

...would forever be etched into my psyche.

This is X-5. I've located the plans

for the moon base.

For my kid brother,

it was all but a distant memory.

I'm going in.

Randy was a fledgling

Buck Rogers fanatic...

...who had his own way of braving

life's little conflicts...

...in this world or any other.

Take that, you Neptunian swine.

Randy, get inside, you lunkhead.

It's freezing out.

And there I am.

With that same dumb, round face...

...and the same penetrating

20-90 vision.

I had, however, discovered the wonders...

...of a miracle elixir called Vitalis.

- Another close call.

- Space is like that, sweetheart.

Now go get dressed for school.

Careful with those,

Zurg's minions are everywhere.

- Oh.

- You just can't trust that son of a b*tch.

Excuse me?

Keep it up, young man,

and you're gonna bite the bar.

Oh, yes, don't test me. I mean it.

Oh!

I will not have that in my house.

Did you hear what your brother said?

Where on earth do you boys

pick up language like that?

Son of a b*tch!

Gotcha, you bugger! Huzzah!

Oh, I knew that cry.

The most feared furnace fighter...

...in northern lndiana had once again

sampled the sweet nectar of triumph.

We may now begin our day.

Ralphie.

Aside from my sudden

and profound interest in hair...

...things hadn't changed that much.

The old man maintained

his well-deserved status...

...as the White Sox's number-one fan.

Morons.

Another utility infielder.

What about a pitcher who can

make it to the second inning?

I'm telling you, boys, if I owned that team,

things would be a whole lot different.

Yes, sirree, Bob.

Utility infielder.

My mother still hoarded bacon fat

like it was gold dust.

Oh, that's good.

And my brother still left the house...

...wrapped for transport

like he was a Ming vase.

For Pete's sake, Ma.

- I heard you sniffle.

- I can't breathe.

You wanna be sick

when Santa comes?

Oh, how right she was.

For in two weeks, it would be Christmas.

Most guys my age wouldn't admit it...

...but when it came to Christmas,

I still felt like a little kid.

Son of a b*tch.

You are pulling my chain.

Rita Hayworth?

See for yourself,

it's playing at the Majestic.

I sat through it three times.

- How naked?

- Thirty percent.

- She pulls off her gloves.

- No.

And then she takes off her necklace.

And then she turns around

and she says, uh:

"I'm not very good with zippers,

but maybe if I had some help."

Oh, my God.

Holy moly.

She's beautiful.

Eh.

Is that a 6?

- Fireball Straight 8.

Overhead valves.

Two-speed Hydra-Matic.

Yeah, so what?

There are a ton of Buicks around.

Show some respect. This is a Roadmaster.

Flick, Schwartz and I

were months away from turning 16.

The sacred moment in each boy's life...

...when he crosses the Rubicon

into manhood...

...and receives that most

cherished of documents...

...known as a driver's license.

Now you're just gonna give it

a little gas, gonna pop that...

Few rites of passage were marked

with such fevered anticipation.

Preparations had been ongoing for months.

Hey, ease up.

You wanna drive the 500,

Indy's right down Route 6.

Don't take the corner in third.

Who's gonna pay for a new transmission?

You're letting this joker cut in?

It's dog-eat-dog out here.

Stake your claim.

Son of a b*tch!

But through it all,

the old man remained positive...

...and steadfast in his encouragement.

Stop sign!

Stop sign.

Formal education had to wait.

Being not quite 16

meant that every discussion...

...revolved around only one of two topics.

There were cars, of course.

And then... Oh, yes,

and then there were them.

Drucilla Gootrad.

My sweet Drucilla. Beauty incarnate.

The hands-down heartthrob

of Hohman High.

I didn't stand a chance with her.

No one did.

Unless you were a quarterback

by the name of Todd Chapin...

...a feat which would require developing

strikingly chiseled features...

...and then beating Elkhart Lutheran

on the final play with a 60-yard bomb.

The rest of us, those wretched souls...

...who couldn't throw or catch

or leap or shoot...

...would have to settle for

being with her in our dreams.

Now, then, you will share with us...

...the location of the resistance fighters?

Perhaps I could help

to refresh your memory.

Go ahead, frulein. Kick and scream.

But your American boyfriends

aren't going to rescue you today.

I ain't her boyfriend.

Not yet, anyway.

Don't try anything fancy, soldier boy.

Oh, yeah? How's this?

You saved me from a fate worse than death.

Just doing my job, ma'am.

Oh, Private Ralphie Parker.

You will forever have

my undying love and affection.

Ditto.

Schweinehund.

My father picked me up from school

that afternoon.

The tired pistons on his beloved Olds...

...were slowly sputtering

into that good night...

...and the time had come for a change.

Any pea-brain can go out

and buy a new car.

But landing a good used one?

You gotta be on your toes.

- That's it. Yeah.

- Okay?

Just remember, treat the

gas like your wife.

Treat the clutch like your mother-in-law.

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