Bad Santa
Hey, can I get another drink|down here?
I've been to prison once.
I've been married twice.
I was once drafted by|Lyndon Johnson and had to live
in sh*t-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 gonna have to|put up with 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 f***ing|a**hole 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 sh*t with his|life, so he took it out on me.
You could say I'm no different.|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 f***ing hilarious.
There's Santa Claus.|Look there.
Wow.
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.
Gee.|You know what?
This one, I think it's more|than enough.
Thanks.|Merry Christmas.
So, what do you want,|little girl?
A drum set.
Oh, the old man will love that.
Okay. Fine.|See you later.
I saw you at another mall.
Well, I'm very happy for you.
You're not really Santa.
If you were Santa,|you could do magic.
You want to see some magic?
Here.|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.
Attention, shoppers.
The store will be closing|in five minutes.
We hope tomorrow is|a pleasant Christmas.
Thank you for shopping with us.
-Is that it?|-Yeah, that's the last one.
Thank the f*** Christ.
Jesus, Mother Mary, and Joseph.
You pissed yourself.
Aw, Jesus.
Yeah, all right.
Yeah.
Hey, happy holidays.|All right.
Merry Christmas.
Happy holidays.
Get home safe.
Yeah, okay.
I don't care what he says.
-We're going out for a beer.|-What the f***?
I'll get right back to you.
What the hell's wrong with you?|I'm trying to f***ing leave.
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.
Ready.
Jesus.
-How's it going?|-I'm finished when I'm finished.
I'm going back upstairs.
I need a melon baller|and a loofah.
Got it.
F*** the loofah.|Let's go.
Marcus, you get the loofah?
Drive.
Oh!
jingle bell rock
in jingle bell time
Oh, I'm dizzy.|Put me down.
Hey, put me down.
Come on!|Put me down.
Oh, come on.
Oh, man.
Hey, baby, two more of these,|all right?
No.|That's it for me.
You can't drink worth a sh*t,|you know that?
I weigh 92 pounds, you dick.
Come on. One more.|It's a celebration.
Here's to you.
To have the blues
My baby's gone
You're getting worse,|you know that?
Well, at least I got it open.
It took you long enough.
I remember when you could unlock|a lock like it was nothing.
Yeah, well, 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. Sh*t.|Get a car.
Get a place, maybe.
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.
What?
You ain't gonna do sh*t|except go down there
and drink your f***ing ass off.
You're gonna piss|everything away
and end up counting the days|till next Christmas.
You'd like that, wouldn't you?
Well, 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 backflip.
You're gonna put|that Santa hat on so fast
that you're gonna get|f***ing hat-burn.
Can I get you guys two more?
No, thanks.|We're all right.
See?
I'm already on the wagon.
Hey. A**hole!
How many times|I got to tell you?
Get out from behind my bar!
Ahh.|F*** you.
-F*** me, huh?|-Right.
Oh. Hey!
Ow!
Get the f*** out of my bar.
F*** you!
You're f***ing crazy.
F***ing prick.
A**hole!
Get the f*** out of here|right now!
jolly Christmas
And in case you didn't hear
F***ing sh*t!
F*** you!
F*** you!
F*** you!
Yeah, baby.
Hey, Tiffany, you want to play|"Hide the Nazi" one day?
God damn it.
Here you go, sweetie.
I got something|for your pretty ass.
-You do?|-Yeah.
Wow. $5.
Thanks.
I gotta listen to my messages,|and you need to take a shower.
I'm a dancer.|I sweat.
Yeah, well, you smell like|a bum's nut sac.
F*** you.
Message one.
Mr. Soke?
This is Andrew Kaplan again,|from the collection agency.
Message two.
This is Dolores Axelrod.
You ran into my car last week.
but they have no record|of any insurance policy for you.
In case you misplaced it,|my phone number is 4 --
Message three.
Willie, it's Marcus.|It's that time of year again.
Pack your sh*t.|Phoenix.
is frightful
is so delightful
to go
let it snow
of stopping
for popping
way down low
Let it snow, let it snow
Jesus Christ!
Can you maybe keep it together|for just 10 minutes?
Harrison, just let me explain,|please. Financially --
Well, you get what you paid for,|Chipeska.
Five Christmases I've been here.
You flip me for some stranger|who'll do it for peanuts
and who happens to work|with a real midget.
Nobody cares.|Nobody comes here for the elf.
Santa's the attraction.
I do Burl lves songs.
Does this schmo|even play guitar?
Look, Harrison, it's not about|the money or the midget.
Believe me, if it was, I --
I don't think they like|"midget."
I think you're supposed to|call them...
Oh, just forget it.
Hacks!
Hi.
Bob Chipeska.|Welcome.
Great photo and rsum,|by the way.
Thanks.
We've been at this|a long time and all.
We'd like to think we do|a good job.
I'm so glad you guys could|come in on such short notice.
I must say,|your look is just sensational.
Thanks.
We've been at this for years.|You got nothing to worry about.
You two are the best men|for this job, truly.
So don't let his unpleasantness|affect your performance.
-Oh, no. We're fine.|-Performance?
Yes. Uh, your performance.|You know, the, um...
Performance, like sexual?
-Excuse me?|-Willie.
Are you saying there's|something wrong with my gear?
Is that what you're saying?
-I'm sorry. Your gear?|-Willie.
My f*** stick.
Hey, Willie.|Take a seat.
You know how|your blood sugar is.
He's not going to say "f***|stick" in front of the children?
No, no, no.|It's a joke.
An adult joke for us adults.
It's a joke.|Just a joke.
"F*** stick"?
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"Bad Santa" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 6 Oct. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/bad_santa_3466>.
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