Original subtitles

(bells jingling)

(children laughing)

(joyful music playing)

♪ ♪

(car horn)

♪ ♪

All right, good job, guys.

Make sure those are stacked in order of continents.

And keep the puppies away from the kittens,

and the kittens away from the goldfish.

And make sure the reptiles-- Sweet American Jesus!

This lizard is dead!

Come on, guys! It's Christmas fuckin' Eve!

There's no time for amateur hour here.

Now, get another one before Tiffany Chang from Tallahassee

loses her shit.

Halloween? Bullshit.

Easter? Fuck that stupid bunny.

May Day? What the fuck is May Day?

This is The Big One. The X-Games, X-Caliber,

it's X-Mas, baby, and that X

is for X-tra X-traordinary!

Santa chose me as his successor

because I know how to run this place,

and get the best outta you guys.

And I think you guys are the best.

You come from a long line of distinguished reindeer

who have performed valiantly on Christmas Eve for hundreds of years.

Dasher... Comet... Blitzen...

And Junior, the son of the greatest of them all. Fashionably late.

Let me just get right up front here in the driver's seat.

Who's ready to smell Junior's ass tonight?

Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Now let's get those fucking kids their presents

in record time this year.

(cheering)

The Lady Candy, my second-in-command.

I'd be nothing without you.

You are a fucking rock star!

After tonight, I insist that you go to a hotel room and trash it.

I will do it! I will drug groupies!

I will shit on the bed!

I will fuck a baby shark,

and bite its head off.

Ha, ha! Woo!

Okay, take it down a notch.

(sirens wailing)

(all gasp)

May I present the Sultan of the Sleigh Ride,

The Thunda from the Tundra,

the hardest-working man in "snow" biz.

-(chanting "Santa") -Good golly, he's jolly!

Our own Santa Claus...!

Hey! Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad.

Hey, good to see you. How are you?

Whoa, you're on my naughty list.

Good news, sir, only 8% of kids under 10 don't believe in you.

That's down from 12% last year.

Wow!

More American kids believe in you

than they do in vaccines or the Holocaust.

That's great!

I mean, disheartening for America,

but great for us.

Announcer: Sleigh launch commencing in T-minus 10...

-Merry Christmas! -(countdown continues)

And to all a kick-ass night!

Peace!

Announcer: ...one, zero.

We are a go. Repeat, Christmas is a go.

Weather's rough all over tonight, kids.

Veer left towards Manhattan.

Winds are coming in at a gentle 15 miles per hour

above the Empire State Building so--

It's happening!

The anti-Christmas pigeons are out.

They've already shit on the Rockefeller Center tree.

Candy: Those fucking assholes.

It's like they save up a year's worth of shit

for this one day.

Send in the fighter jets!

Bread drop over Central Park Sheep's Meadow.

Let's make it rain carbs, kids.

(pigeons cooing)

How many sleeping pills we got in the bread?

-Upwards of a thousand, ma'am. -Great.

These turtle doves will be down for all 12 days of Christmas.

(cheers and applause)

-Stop, stop. It was nothing. -(cheering stops)

No, hey, I'm lying. It was very much my idea.

I killed it. Keep clapping.

(cheers and applause)

(joyful music playing)

Good morning, emotional vampires.

My day's gonna be insane.

(muffled) Brent and I have to go through all the thank you notes,

-the hate mail-- -My day's gonna be pretty intense, too, actually.

Probably somethin' we should pay attention to.

Oh, really? Oh, what's going on with you today, Tony?

You have to cut your toenails? Is it that time of year again?

(laughing)

I'm laying down tracks on a new Christmas song.

Did you ever play my last one for Santa?

That crap? No chance.

Candy, don't be mean to your brother.

His father died when he was a very young child.

Yeah, I know. He was actually my father, too.

Oh, wow. Someone's dead-dad-greedy.

Speakin' of, I dedicate this sick shit to my dead pops.

May the stale gumdrop that fell on him

and crushed his head burn in hell.

♪ Santa Claus he likes it raw ♪

♪ But his wife ain't no ho ♪

♪ She don't suck on dat north pole ♪

Hey!

I was catfishin' an eight!

I'm gonna finish that abortion Mom tried to have 35 years ago!

-Ahh! -(grunting)

Help! My son's being attacked!

Somebody help us!

-(punching) -(grunting)

Candy: Crash somewhere else, grifters.

Thank you notes are coming in.

Kids love their presents.

Another Christmas gone perfectly.

Woo! Woo! This is why I brag to everyone

that we're BFFs.

-(dings) -Back off! No high-fives from anyone but me!

-Grr. -Candy, I don't know how you deal with

all these clingy, needy types.

I really don't.

Hey, hey. What's goin' on?

I'm so frustrated.

None of us B-Team Women

got called up to the sleigh.

Again.

We train hard every day of the year

just to sit on the fucking bench every Christmas Eve.

It doesn't mean you're not as vital to the system

as any one of those dudes.

(sighs) I guess.

And if you want, honestly,

I will slit Junior's throat next year

so you can lead the team.

I swear to God, just give me the word,

-and I will cut him. -(Goldie laughs)

On the positive side,

your body is sick!

You right.

All this training does make me

a monster in the sack.

I had a three-way with Prancer and his girlfriend last night,

(sing-song): and no one was complaining.

Oh my god. Your life is amazing.

-Hot deets! -Well, we did it

reindeer style, doggy style,

koala style-- the girlfriend is Australian.

And it's a good thing Prancer's not Santa

because his dick was as thick as a chimney.

Ooh, yeah, gimme some more of that vicarious shit.

Eh, I'm late for weight training,

-but thanks for cheerin' me up, guys. -See ya.

So, I had this insane dream last night

that I was actually wearing Santa's suit--

Oh, a dream? Must be nice.

I don't have dreams anymore

because I don't ever sleep

because for some reason,

I wanted to be a wife and mother.

Oh, I'm sorry, Fun Size.

You know I love you, baby, right?

Right? Answer me!

Why isn't he answering?! Is he dead?!

Uh, I don't know. He's blue and not breathing, so maybe.

Call 911! Help my baby!

I'm just fucking with you.

He's asleep, you psycho.

Oh, okay, good.

Being a mom is so hard.

Take my advice, Candy. Never have kids.

Wasn't planning on it.

Oh, really? That makes me sad.

You'd be such a good mom.

Promise me you'll think about it.

Okay, gotta drop this fucker off at daycare.

Byeee!

(phone ringing)

♪ ♪

-Morning, Jeremy. Brent in yet? -Shush!

Retweeting a retweet from an influencer

regarding helping our world.

All done. Brent's not in.

Grab me a coffee? Thank you.

Come on, man. You're the assistant.

Grab me a coffee. Get me a scone, too.

Unless they're all maple because gross. Fuck maple.

-This is harassment. -(alarm sounds)

Jingle Jim: All employees, this is your

Chief of Staff, Jingle Jim.

Gather at the Campus Square

for an announcement by Santa.

This is not a drill.

I'm sure it's just a drill.

Shut up and gather at the Square!

What up? What up?

Love you. Love you.

Mad at you. Love you.

Pumping her boobs in public? God.

It's called a tit!

Your Mom has two of 'em.

Deal with it, bro.

Could there be one nursing room in this place?

I have to get up there.

How do I look?

Goldie, come here.

Go 'head, boo. I'm not gon' blink.

God, I look old. I'm getting elf neck.

No, you're not. You have perfect skin.

My body was wrecked by childbirth.

A gingerbread episiotomy is no joke, kids.

Hey, why only two chairs? What about Brent?

Make sure you tell Santa

those other morons barely lifted a hoof this year.

I'm the star quarterback taking a team

of knuckleheads to the Super Bowl.

And you know I'm the one who's actually drivin'

that sleigh, right?

I just let Santa think he's steerin'.

Don't tell him that part.

I know you hate me.

What the fuck? You hate me.

I guess I just don't understand what purpose you serve at Santa Inc.

Are you a secretary who sits in on big meetings?

A waitress who never has food?

Junior, I am the number two Executive Vice President

at Santa Inc. who only answers to Santa, Brent, and the Board.

I can end that nose of yours.

I'd like to see you try.

A lotta powerful people need this nose to glow,

so they can pay their mortgages

and send their kids to private school.

So, by all means, go ahead and try

to stop this nose from glowin'.

Goddammit, you're right.

Beings of Santa Inc.,

It is I, your Chief of Staff, Jingle Jim.

(chattering)

Shut up, you worthless assholes!

-(all gasping) -(coughs)

I present Saint Nicholas XIX!

(cheering)

Thank you all for the very warm welcome.

I just wanna tell you all that this year, we reached

more kids than ever before.

One billion six thousand-- No, wait, six, four, 16 billion?

Holy-- That-- You know what?

I'm not good with these big numbers.

We got a lot of these little motherfuckers.

(chanting "Santa")

But, this Christmas Eve, something happened in Seattle, Washington,

that left a lump of coal in my heart.

(rock music plays)

Brent? I'm Jeff Bezos.

Oh my god, Jeff Bezos. I can't believe it's you.

I would like for you to come work for me at Amazon.

Do I have to use an Amazon Fire Phone?

-No. -I'm in.

What?! This is insane!

Brent's a traitor!

Amazon Prime is slow and useless!

Crowd Member: Suck a bag of dicks!

(Board members muttering)

I know this is shocking news, but please, please,

let's just be happy for Brent.

Let's wish him luck, even though he screwed us.

Without so much as a warning.

He fucked us dry, folks. I'm just gonna say it.

The warning would've been lube, but he withheld that.

So, we are all chafed this morning.

Super chafed, but...

this rash will go away, just like Brent did.

It won't spread from our nethers to cover our entire body.

We will recover

from this un-lub-ri-cated

fucking Brent gave us.

Santa, I'm here from The North Pole Times.

Since Brent was supposed to succeed you as Santa Claus,

have you decided who will replace him and become your Successor?

Subtext, Santa's old and knocking on death's door.

Fuck you, Harold. Uh, I mean, uh, that--

Good, good question. I'll give it some serious thought.

Ha ha. Ho ho ho. Bye.

(cheering)

Big Candy: I know who the next Santa is!

Candy, tell him! It's my son, your brother!

♪ Santa Claus he likes it raw ♪

-(taser shoots) -(grunts in pain)

♪ Snowflake, snowflake ♪

♪ No two are alike ♪

How could Brent just leave?

He was my mentor.

He taught me everything, everything I know.

He made me love my job.

He made me love him.

And then he didn't even say goodbye.

Aw, poor Candy.

Poor sweet Candy.

I'm here for you if you need a shoulder to cry on.

Or a dick to cry on.

Obviously, that's offensive and you suck,

but I'm just curious how you envision that working.

Is it like, I cry and you use my tears

as lubricant to masturbate to my sadness?

Or is it like, I cry and my tears

fall off my face onto your penis with a kind of like,

"thwap" sound that gives you a boner?

Ehhh.

Candy Smalls. Down, but not out.

So, who do you think is gonna be the new Santa?

50 bucks it's someone in the toy factory.

Or one of those fuckin' jacked reindeers, am I right?

Like Junior. He's so fuckin' hot.

I mean, he's so jacked.

You fellas know I meant jacked, right?

Yeah, ha, ha, like what if the next Santa is a woman.

That would be so weird, but like super cool!

-(both laughing) -A woman Santa?

What if she thinks she's handin' out candy canes,

and they turn out to be some fuckin' tampons?

What if her boobies get caught in the chimney?

Or even worse: What if she falls in love with the sleigh?

(all laughing)

(rustling)

(ominous music plays)

Oh, Grandpa. What're you doing out so late?

Candy Cane Lane is the best place for anonymous

sexual encounters.

Can your heart even handle a gang bang at your age?

You know what? Don't answer that. I don't wanna know.

I won't apologize for being a vibrant sexual being.

Nobody should ever have to apologize for their secret desires.

It's funny you should say that because...

well, well because I wanna be the next Santa.

-Really? -Yeah, I've been dreaming about it my whole life,

but, you know, Brent's always been Successor,

so I never thought about it seriously until now.

Is that nuts?

There have been many Santa Clauses

throughout history.

Some were loved.

Others loathed.

Great and mediocre.

Attractive and gross. 10's and 2's.

Santa Claus XVII gave lavish presents

to children in the Third Reich

and escaped the North Pole for Argentina.

The point is, Candy, Santa Inc. is a diverse place.

Humans and magical creatures of all

races and religions living together.

But the position of Santa has mostly been a white man's game.

There have been women prime ministers,

women presidents, even a woman mechanic,

but there has never, ever been a woman Santa Claus,

or a Jewish Santa Claus.

Exactly! It's fucking crazy!

Things have gotta change!

Grandpa Smalls: My advice to you is,

and this is important, so listen carefully--

-(gust of wind) -Whoa!

(shouts): If I die, get rid of my porn!

It's on a computer icon called, "Tax Stuff"!

(TV playing)

If you become Santa, would you put me on the Reindeer A-team?

Hell yeah, I'd bump you straight up to varsity.

Junior can take a year off.

You could lead the sleigh, and let the other jerks

get stuck smelling your asshole for once.

-(baby cries) -Get the fucking baby, Craig!

Don't yell at me in front of your friends.

Then don't be a dumbass

in front of my friends, dumbass.

I thought things were better between you guys

since the baby.

What do you mean? They are.

Now listen to me, bitch.

If this is your dream, you have to at least try

and talk to Santa, and make your case, bitch.

Someone like me doesn't just walk up to Santa's house and be all,

"Dude, we need to talk."

Well, go there, bitch. Right now.

You gotta get intimate with that jolly bitch, bitch.

Okay, I know you're right,

but do you really have to call me "bitch"

every time you say something?

Yes, bitch. Because it's empowering to call you bitch, bitch.

A man wouldn't mind being called a bitch.

-Craig: She's right. -Who asked you, bitch?

Craig: She's wrong. That-- That does sting a bit.

Look, you need to let Santa know

you're not on his "Nice" list or his "Naughty" list.

You're on his "Bitch" list, bitch.

Okay, fuck it. I'm doing this.

I'm doing this. I'm going over there right now.

This is so exciting!

It's stressing me out how exciting this is.

-(crunches) -Dammit, I ate my arm.

Wish me luck, bitches.

-Woo! You go, Candy! -Yes, you got this, bitch!

You're gonna do it!

-(door opens, closes) -What if Candy gets to be Santa,

then falls in love with the sleigh?

Bitch, I was thinkin' the same thing.

-(magical music playing) -(gates creaking open)

-Ahh! -Oh god! I'm so sorry.

Clumsy, stupid asshole!

Okay, Jesus, I cannot take on this energy right now.

♪ Someone is at the door Someone is at the door ♪

♪ Someone is at the door Someone is at the door ♪

♪ Someone is at the door The door is ringing ♪

♪ Answer the fucking door ♪

Candy! How nice to see you!

Hi, Mrs. Claus, uh, I, I know it's late.

Oh, I'm always up.

(laughs) I have insomnia.

I stay up all night making lists of what I need to do.

It rules my life, but who cares?

You don't care! I barely care!

Come on in.

-(gobbling) -(Mrs. Claus gasps)

Nick, stop it!

The doctor says you're one cupcake away from diabetes.

Fine! Then get me some donuts!

We're all out. I don't care, I'm not picky.

And can we not fight in front of my colleague?

Candy, come in. Sit down.

Invitation accepted... sir.

Oh, I'm sorry. I'll leave you two to talk business.

I have emails to read, and packages to wrap, and so on and so forth,

and, and goodbye.

What brings you here, Candy?

First, may I say, your home is lovely.

It's, it's majestic, yet it's not ostentatious,

which, I think, is a subtle balance to achieve, sir, and I--

Jesus fuckin' Christ, Candy, enough with the "sir."

Loosen up. This isn't the principal's office.

I've known you since you were a kid.

Yeah, but it's not like we ever really talked.

What're you talkin' about? We shoot the shit all the time.

No. No, we've never shot even one tiny shit, sir.

I mean-- I met your husband. He's a huge sports nut, right?

Why am I even askin'? I remember the guy.

Blue skin, horse body, pink wings. He was hilarious.

Not married, actually.

Don't even have a crush on anyone,

but, uh, don't be embarrassed. It's fine. I--

You're a very busy man. You probably don't even know my last name.

Ah, come on. Who gives a fuck?

It's not like you know my real name.

It's Llewelyn Fartini.

Dammit, you do! Now that you mention it,

Brent kinda was like the buffer between us.

But, you know, now that I look back,

Brent always acted like he was meant for bigger things than Santa Inc.

One Halloween he came as Super Jesus.

Like regular Jesus wasn't enough.

No, Brent needed a cape and a pair of tights

to show off his biceps and his huge fuckin' dick.

No one with a dick that big is happy in middle management.

-That segues into what I'm here for, actually. -It does?

Do you mind if I, uh, kinda give you the big picture?

Please, tell me.

When I was a kid, I had big dreams.

You know, I, I didn't know that, as a girl,

they didn't always come true.

I figured if I worked hard enough,

no one could deny me anything, so I did.

I, I worked my ass off, and I proved myself.

All right, not really a segue, more of a pivot, but I hear ya.

I want my dreams to come true.

I wanna be the next Successor,

and the first female Santa Claus in history!

♪ The first elf bitch Santa ♪

-Me! Candy-- -Smalls!

Yes! Progress!

♪ Candy wants it real, real baaaaad ♪

I'm the most progressive Santa in history.

I'm a real change agent.

I'm an ally, which I can't label myself as,

but I've been labeled that by others.

And Brent, the first Black Successor,

was a huge part of my legacy.

But maybe... it's time to make history

...again.

I need to think about it, but,

this could be really fucking awesome.

Okay, very cool.

(cheers and laughter)

Oh, man. Let's see what those bozos are up to now. Ha!

(indistinct chatter)

What is this?

It's my annual Boxing Day party.

Oh, I, I never knew about it.

We bros shave our beards every year.

It's a major tradition.

I'm gonna win again this year.

The hair that weighs the most gets a prize.

Let's get shaving! Yeaaah!

(buzzing)

Jingle Jim, why are you here?

You don't even have facial hair.

I have to shave every week.

I'm talking about my genitals, dumb-dumb.

It's a gay thing. Yes, I am gay.

And it's a valid and wonderful lifestyle.

If I wasn't straight, I'd be gay.

It's number two on my list.

I shave, too. I shave my legs.

And under my arms, and, uh, you know,

all the parts of my vulva that face the floor.

Why have I never been invited to this, and Jingle Jim has?

And Jeremy? Jeremy's all ice!

They make mine into a snowcone.

Candy, you're more than welcome to stay,

and, and join in.

But, sir, when you hired me,

you knew I wasn't trained for vaginas.

I don't wanna be sued if I slip up and make her infertile.

(softly): The baby needs the hair to stay warm.

Ugh! Thanks for the info on how my body works.

I can't stay anyway.

I've got a ton of parties and raves and shit to go to.

I mean, if I knew earlier I could've switched stuff around but--

Oh, thank god. I mean, I'll, I'll walk you out.

And I'm gonna think hard about what we spoke about.

(chuckles)

Fuck those douches.

Someday, I will be the first woman Santa.

Period!

♪ ♪

♪ No two are alike ♪

♪ They are their own special beings ♪

♪ The one thing that they have in common ♪

♪ Is I love them all the same ♪

♪ Snowflake, snowflake ♪

♪ Snowflake, snowflake ♪

♪ If you commit a crime I'll give you a dime ♪

♪ To call me anytime ♪

♪ Night or day ♪

♪ Snowflake ♪

♪ I love you all the same ♪

♪ Snowflake ♪

And you, and you...

♪ Snowflake ♪

Just kidding, I love all of you the same.