Original subtitles

I'm Cocoa Scarborough and this is "Morning Cocoa".

It's official.

Every kid in the world is about to get a gift.

And that can only mean one thing for The North Pole...

trouble!

Lots and lots of trouble.

And hey, Santa, if you're listening,

I'll take a mother who stuck around.

♪ Schlemiel! ♪

♪ Schlimazel! ♪

♪ Spielzeugfabrik Incorporated! ♪

[***]

♪ Doo, doo, doo ♪

[bike crashing]

♪ Doo, doo, doo Doo, doo, doo ♪

[***]

Hey, Lego Rome wasn't built in a day.

♪ Doo, doo, doo ♪

♪ Doo, doo, doo Doo, doo, doo ♪

[***]

[***]

[squeaking]

Oh!

[***]

[toy chute rumbling]

♪ Doo, doo, doo, doo ♪

Yes, yes! Fuck, yes!

Finally!

[glass shatters]

[whomp!]

[Elf] I'm okay.

It's not a snowball.

[ice clinking]

It's... an iceball.

Maybe I should've taken Ebba's declaration of war

a little more seriously.

[***]

My source on the inside

says they've mastered Teddy Bears.

Wow.

I'm shaking in my pointy, little boots.

Load up the catapults!

Behold! The gates.

They're opening!

[***]

Hey, 'Til,

surprised you haven't turned your coat inside out.

Traitor!

It's springtime, bitch.

I don't wear coats.

Meanwhile, your boss is dressed for a snow squall.

Oh, this lil' thing?

Sorry, we were playing pin the tail on the Arctic Wolf

and, well...

Tom-Erik won this round.

It's funny.

I see you're playing games.

But the question is...

are you making them?

Hey, guys, I've heard instead of Mouse Trap,

they're making a game called "Mouse Crap".

[silence]

-Not funny. -I'm sorry.

Can't jump to the moon every time, Mac.

Here, have a cookie.

Do you see this, everyone?

Santa brought us cookies!

How delightful.

-[plate shattering] -[Nick] What the fuck, man?

That's a waste of a dozen good cookies!

You could have just said, "No thank you."

No thank you!

Are you here to restore the "Pledge of the Nice"?

Ebba, we're all entitled to our beliefs.

And I believe every kid deserves a gift,

be it Naughty, Nice, or Jewish.

Then the iceballs will continue to rain.

She's serious.

She would rather start a war than give every child a toy.

That does seem to be her position.

And ours, too.

Huh.

Well, fuck me sideways.

With the North Pole on the verge of destruction,

it's time to execute our plan.

Step one-- consolidate power .

Step two...

[as Al Pacino] Execute his soul!

Wait, was that supposed to be Al Pacino?

[as Al Pacino] Say hello to my stupid fucking son.

You know what, let's just move on.

Uh, the Reindeer Union

carries a lot of weight in this town.

Hey! Santa Claus is pretty heavy, too.

Political.

Ugh. Did the last guest

leave a used condom on the floor?

Yeah...

the last guest... yeah.

This place is disgusting.

Can we do this someplace else?

Jack, without the reindeer union,

you'll be dead in the water.

Literally, you can't fly,

and we're surrounded

by rapidly-melting polar-ice caps.

So, come on, let's see you do a little politicking.

For far too long,

the reindeer have been underutilized.

But I know everything about flying.

I know the biggest airline is Delta,

but the number-one airline is Singapore.

I rest my case.

Yeah, whatever, dude.

I just want whatever your mother wants.

What's going on here?

[***]

[***]

[boom!]

[***]

[echoing scream] No!

[rumbling]

Fire!

[splat!]

[phones ringing]

You gonna take any of these calls?

[sighs]

It's the elves on the shelves.

They're gonna be so angry.

Maybe you could talk to them?

And I'll make dinner?

What?

This is, like, my third day on the job.

Alright, fine, yeah.

Okay, let me just--

let me just get in the zone, okay?

Buh-wa-wa-waw.

Santa! What the fuck are you doing?

[phones ringing]

Toys.

[phones ringing]

[rock music playing]

Are you sure this is a good idea?

Man, you saw Jerry.

It felt like he had seen the light.

And it was golden.

[Len] Whoa.

Take my hand.

And let's go get golden showers of light.

Together.

[rock music playing]

Whoa.

You're Cocoa Scarborough.

What are you doing here?

Spreading the motherfucking news,

and this just in--

I'm coked out of my head.

Back to you, me, for more coke.

Hey, maybe you should slow down?

Fuck that!

I'm a bird,

and this is the only way I can fly!

So wheels up, you elven bitches!

Whoo!

[snorts cocaine] Get on up! Whoo!

I told your husband he messed with the wrong lady,

and I'll tell you, too.

Oh! You messed with the wrong lady.

I get it. I do.

You guys have been living your life

based on the teachings of Skatonik.

Then, all of a sudden,

someone comes around and says, "Hey, Jerk!

Not only are your beliefs wrong,

you're also an unethical piece of shit!"

Yes, finally, someone understands.

It sucks.

We're good, nice elves here.

I couldn't agree more.

Which is why I come to you tonight

not as Mrs. Claus,

but as Gretchen Weaver.

A Christmas-lovin',

gator-wrasslin',

jet-ski-ridin' Christian

from Florida.

None of that sounds Christian.

Amen?

Okay, here's the deal.

My son and I have been building a secret coalition

to take back the factory.

We have the support of the Reindeer,

the Teachers' Union,

the Polar Bears,

and Lord Cane the Candy Mane.

But we're still missing the most important piece...

you.

Under my son's reign,

naughtiness will once again be punished around the world.

Sound good?

This isn't a joke, is it?

Blackjack is risen.

I must say,

I was not expecting this.

But heck yes!

Okay, great.

Jack, it's time for phase two.

Call up your dad and set up the meeting.

After Nick steps down,

the naughty elves will follow suit,

and you'll have your factory back by tomorrow.

Wait, we're not gonna

just let those traitors walk, right?

Ebba, mobilize your army.

Wait, what?

We'll see how they feel

after a 16-hour shift in the coal mine.

And let's separate them from their children, too.

Okay, chill out, Christmas Hitler.

I sentence all traitors to the fate of Skatonik's Whore.

Blackjack!

It's like you don't even know me, Dad.

Sir. Son of Sir.

Ooh, it is an honor to have you in my establishment.

Sugarplums on the house.

No, please, stop it.

No, I insist on paying.

And out of curiosity,

you wouldn't happen to offer a dessert omakase, would you?

I'll see what I can do. [cackling]

Everyone loves you, eh?

Must be nice.

Meh, call it the perks of the job.

You'll see.

You'll get all this nice stuff one day, too.

Isn't that why we're here?

Nice stuff.

Naughty stuff.

Dad, do you remember Christmas 2011?

Son, I don't even remember where I parked.

[chuckles]

Well, I do.

I sat on your lap,

and you said I could have anything I wanted.

So, every day, I did my chores, made my bed,

brushed my teeth.

I was probably

the nicest kid in the world that year.

And all I asked for was a T-Pain Microphone--

the kind that makes your voice sound all auto-tuned.

Not too cray. Am I right?

Not too big an ask.

But when Christmas came around,

you forgot about me.

Oh, Jack, I am--

[Elf Cook] So this is more of a breakfast than a dessert,

but I thought it could be

an interesting follow-up to the sugarplums.

Hey, can you give us a second?

Oh! Sorry.

Enjoy.

You managed to give gifts to 500 million other children,

but you forgot about your own son.

Story of my fucking life.

[sighs]

When you become Father Christmas,

they forget to tell you that the first part--

being a father--

is pretty important, too.

Jack, I'm...

I'm so sorry.

I never thought any child should get coal, ever.

But getting nothing is worse.

Because it means nobody's even watching.

Hey...

why don't you sit on Santa's lap

and tell me what you would like for Christmas this year?

Dad, come on.

Please sit on my lap.

You'll see one day.

Heavy is the belly that wears the suit.

You know what, Dad?

Let's do it.

I was the one who leaked the photo,

because all I want for Christmas...

is your motherfucking suit.

You're done, old man.

Ho, ho...

Fuck!

Sorry, Jack, sorry.

Goddamn it!

You okay, honey?

Yeah, let me just pay the check.

[***]

[brakes screeching]

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