How Murray Saved Christmas

Synopsis: One-hour animated special surrounding a surly deli owner Murray Weiner, who is forced to step into Santa's shoes for one Christmas and bumbles his way into doing a great job.
Director(s): Peter Avanzino
  Nominated for 1 Primetime Emmy. Another 1 win & 1 nomination.
 
IMDB:
6.4
Rotten Tomatoes:
50%
TV-G
Year:
2014
42 min
510 Views


North of the North Pole

and south of the stars

lies a quaint little village

called Stinky Cigars.

The name is so awful

that folks pass right by it.

It's a trick that we use

to keep our town quiet.

You'll see that we've got

some celebrities here...

The groundhog, Columbus,

and Chinese New Year.

There's Jack Frost

and Washington,

Lincoln and Cupid,

and dear April Fool,

who's as sweet as he's stupid.

Yahtzee.

- Oh!

- Man!

St. Pat and St. Nicholas fill

our saint quota.

If you're looking

for St. Paul,

check Minnesota.

- Ho ho!

- Har har har.

You have to be

proud and a little bit nuts

to honor a banner

with two smelly butts.

Please join me

in our town anthem.

Ho ho ho ho

ho ho ho ho ho!

Stinky Cigars!

Stinky Cigars!

There's no place on earth,

and no place on Mars

that's as happy

as Stinky Cigars.

The cats never scratch.

The dogs never bite.

The sun shines

all day and night.

All day and night.

Uh! "S" to the T-I.

"N" to the K-Y.

Stinky, Stinky Cigars!

Uh! Life in the S-C is

kind of a dream.

There's a candy cane tree

by a butterscotch stream.

If your teeth all go rotten,

well, don't you scream.

'Cause the dentist gives

fillings of chocolate cream.

Sweet...

Stinky Cigars!

Stinky Cigars!

Yeah, the streets are all paved

with chocolate bars.

There's no smoking

in Stinky Cigars.

I put my head through

a priceless Renoir.

That's no problem

in Stinky Cigars.

No one's got problems

in Stinky Cigars.

Well, that killed half the day.

We've got to get

a shorter anthem.

- It's a nice place to work.

- It's a nice place to grow up.

It's such a nice place,

you just want to throw up.

Everyone's happy,

except Murray Weiner,

owner of Murray's

Holiday Diner.

Murray is grouchy and cranky

and crabby,

nasty and ghastly,

obnoxious and flabby,

ill-tempered, ill-natured,

malevolent and...

- All right!

- They get it.

Yet still everyone

in the holiday bunch

would come into Murray's

to have a great lunch.

You might see George Washington

eating and drinking

on President's Day

with Abraham Lincoln.

And how, you might wonder,

did Santa get that?

Just thank Murray's

chocolate-chip

cheesecake for that.

Ho ho ho!

You get the bagels.

You got the chili.

Thanksgiving Turkey,

stuff yourself silly.

Cupid, you're sweet.

I don't want to be pushy.

But get off my seat with

your bare-naked tushy.

Ooh.

Here's your roast beef,

Leprechaun.

This is rare.

I want well-done.

Much obliged.

And back in the corner,

all by himself,

sat an odd little fellow

named Edison Elf.

What are you doing

playing with food?

It's wasteful and dirty

and terribly rude.

I'm just sitting here

quietly making a racket.

I'm Edison Elf.

I'm a bit of a tinkerer.

Kid, as a tinkerer,

you are a stinkerer.

Hey!

I invented horse socks...

To go with horseshoes...

And a loud watch alarm

for people who snooze.

I'm up! I'm up!

And here is a toy that I know

kids will love.

It's a Jack-in-the-box

with a spring boxing glove.

I call it

a Jack-in-the-boxer.

Box, boxer, glove.

It's a pun.

This would at least get

an honorable mention

if there were a contest

for world's worst invention.

What?

- It's stupid.

- It's clever.

- It's nasty.

- It's nice.

Go show it to Santa

and get his advice.

I will. I will!

He forgot to pay his bill.

oh, we work, work, work,

work, work, work, work.

We work with great endurance.

We never miss a day of work

'cause we don't have health insurance.

We work all night,

we work all day.

We love our jobs,

but come on, hey.

We never get a dime of pay.

We just work, work, work, work,

work, work, work, work, work.

Ho ho!

- Nice work, Dave.

- My name is Chet.

- But I thought he was Chet.

- I'm Dolores.

- And you must be the new guy.

- I've been here 87 years.

Ok, break's over.

Back to work.

Oh, we work, work, work,

work, work, work, work.

We really bust our heinies.

They hire elves for this work, work, work

'cause we're cheaper than the Chinese.

But it's still one of life's great joys

to earn a living making toys.

I'm going crazy

from this noise!

He's berserk, serk, serk,

serk, serk, serk, serk, berserk.

Who wants cocoa?

- Yes, please!

- Me! Me! I do!

It's $8 for the large,

5 bucks for the small.

- For a lousy coffee?

- Wow. That hurts.

All right. Double time.

What a jerk, jerk, jerk, jerk, jerk,

jerk, jerk Santa Claus can be.

Still, it's nice to have some work,

work, work in this economy.

I go to work beside my dad.

I have the job

my father had.

This place

isn't all that bad.

Get to work, work, work, work,

work, work, work, work, work.

He's a great guy

outside the office.

At Santa's Workshop

on Christmas Eve day,

zillions of toys were

stuffed into the sleigh.

There were Jacks and wax lips

and all kinds of loose stuff...

Crumpunglers, tumpuzzlers.

You know, Dr. Seuss stuff.

There were dolls that said "mama"

and dolls that said "goo,"

dolls that made music...

And dolls that made pooh.

There were dolls that grew

tall at a push of a button

and a doll, best of all,

that didn't do nothing.

Santa was ready,

about to take off,

when from behind him,

he heard a small cough.

Santa... Ahem.

Could I have your attention?

I'd just like to show

you my latest invention.

Yes?

My Jack-in-the-boxer

belongs on your list.

It's a Jack-in-the-box

with a fabulous twist.

Aaaarggh!

You're, uh, supposed to point it

away from your face.

Ho ho! Don't worry, son.

I'm perfectly schnibble

and ready to glibble.

- You're starting to dribble.

- Really?

All of the toys

fell out of the sled.

And they bounced one by one

off of poor Santa's head.

Mama!

Gah!

Oh, nutmeg.

Anyone else hear that?

Hmm, it needs work.

Globble, glibble, ish,

kibibble. Hee hee!

Mmm!

Appetite... Good.

When someone is having

a less than a jolly day,

they call on this man.

His name is Doc Holiday.

Diaper rash.

- Ooh! Ooh!

- Seasickness.

I'm under such pressure

to see my shadow

and get winter over already.

What if I don't see it?

I mean, should I lie?

Diaper rash.

- Aah! No...

- Claus-trophobia.

One year I was certain

I saw my shadow,

but it turned out to be

an oil stain on the pavement.

I cannot tell a lie.

Ha ha. You're fat.

I'm a rodent,

not a meteorologist.

Uh, diaper rash.

Uh, how's it look, Doc?

Would you like to hear

the bad news first?

I'd rather hear the good news.

Oh, I didn't say

there's good news.

Heh heh. In layman's terms,

Santa Claus is suffering from...

Superficial fractures of

his little baby toeses.

His ears moved south

and now his mouth is pushed up

where his nose is.

I'm prescribing aspirin

in super megadoses

for superficial fractures of his wittle,

bitty toeses.

Where exactly did

you go to med school?

Colombia.

Bogota, Colombia.

He's got inflammation and abrasions,

bruises and contusions,

spinal fusion, great confusion

marked by weird delusions.

I'm a pretty little girl.

My mommy calls me Susan.

Inflammation and abrasions,

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Mike Reiss

Michael L. Reiss (born September 15, 1959) is an American television comedy writer and author. He served as a show-runner, writer and producer for the animated series The Simpsons and co-created the animated series The Critic. He created and wrote the webtoon Queer Duck and has also worked on screenplays including: Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs, The Simpsons Movie and My Life in Ruins. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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