Bad Santa 2 Page #3

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Damn it, Willie. Hurry up!

We're gonna miss our train.

You see me walking backwards, a**hole?

I'm coming.

Kid, get over here

and take your pants off.

No!

Ah, f***.

Sleigh bells ring

Are you listening?

In the lane snow is glistening

A beautiful sight

We're happy tonight

Walking in a winter wonderland

Gone away is the bluebird

In his place is a new bird

Here's your ID.

- "Randall Cook"?

- What the f*** wrong with that'?

Randall sounds Irish.

I want something whiter.

I'm Davis, you're Cook.

End of f***ing story.

You got one job this time. Open a safe.

Till then, just keep your drunken

deviant f***ing mouth shut.

You know what you need?

You need some p*ssy.

I'll see if I can find you

a cat somewhere.

Put that sh*t away.

"Giving City Foundation.

Bringing food and shelter

to those in need."

Hold the f***ing phone.

I traveled all the way across the country

to rob a goddamn charity?

Why? You got a problem with that?

Yeah, you damn right

I got a problem with it.

No way these a**holes

have 2 million bucks.

Will you keep it down, man. Moron.

I don't know.

- I see they made you some chairs already.

- F*** you.

He's Cook. I'm Davis.

We're here for the orientation.

Empty your pockets.

Place any metal items in the tray.

What's that?

- Cough medicine.

- Let me see that.

That's a level three contraband.

I'm gonna have to compensate that.

The f*** you are.

All right, big shot.

You can stay out here with your GD flask.

- We'll get it on the way out.

- Gina!

Show these boys to the line-up.

They're late.

Meeting started ten minutes ago.

But I think I can sneak you guys in.

Come on.

- Hey, Diane! I got two more.

- Come on in, fellas.

- Goddamn.

- That's Diane Hastings.

She and her husband run the joint.

So like I was saying,

finish filling out these forms

and you can drop them off

at the front desk, please.

And then, you can go to the common room

and pick up your uniforms.

I bet that p*ssy got lips

like an orangutan.

- Excuse me, Mr...

- Um, Cook. Randall Cook.

- What's up?

- Have you been drinking?

Uh, I don't know. Some vodka...

Because we don't allow alcohol

or drugs of any kind at Giving City.

Why's that?

You may not be aware of this, Mr. Cook,

but we're a charity.

When you walk out those doors,

you're representing us.

- So please try and make us look good.

- Oh, we'll make you look great.

- Promise.

- Yeah.

Mmm.

A hard-on?

You sick f***.

I'm the one that's been in prison

for ten years.

It's just a semi.

Don't get all bent out of shape.

Shut the f*** up.

Ho, ho, ho. What's up, Santas?

Hey, don't forget to remind people,

if they don't have cash,

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