"Happy Birthday, Big Man!
"We love you, Barack and Michelle.
"In lieu of a gift, we made a donation
in your name to one our favorite charities."
Fuckin' lame!
What about a donation and a gift?
Why don't they do that?
You get it, Snowie. Right?
-Mm-hm. -Santa: You've always been there for me.
You know, I shouldn't be telling anyone this,
but I made a big decision, and I just need to tell someone,
or... I think I'm gonna fuckin' puke.
I've finally decided who to make my Successor.
-It's Candy! -(cheers)
Awesome choice, right?
And the headlines will read,
"Santa chooses a woman Successor,
and makes history! Again!"
Boom! But I'm gonna sit on it.
Make the Board sweat it out. Those fuckin' dicks.
Okay, Snowie, see you around-- Well, not around, but, you know,
in here, in the office, where you live.
I'll see you later. Jesus. Whatever, you get it.
(door closes)
-(toilet flushes) -Oh my shit!
It should be me!
(snow globe shatters)
-Whoa! -(bells jingling)
(joyful music playing)
(coughs)
(Junior cries)
(both laughing)
Yes, teens, it is I. Assuming you'd like a selfie.
-With Junior? The washed-up reindeer? -Ugh, no thanks.
We heard you beat up a woman just to become Santa?
It was only a golf game!
And I didn't touch that lyin' dwarf!
Ah! Run away! He's toxic!
Fuckin' fake news.
Bitch elf, ruined my gorgeous reputation.
(choir music plays)
You look like you could use a friend.
And, uh, maybe, a career-saving makeover?
(burps) Amen to that.
Candy: So I got rid of that puss, Junior.
Jingle Jim's a long shot.
Larson and Timmy the Toy Guy are my only real competition.
And I am playing this like a man would, right?
You know what I'm talkin' about, you handsome motherfucker.
(both laughing)
Candy, what a treat. We never see you anymore.
No guilt! But it has been so long.
I know. Do I look taller to you?
-Like, I feel taller. -Maybe.
Do I look any different to you...
like more pregnant? Hint, hint.
Whoa! What? You're pregnant?
-That-- What, what did the doctor say? -I didn't go to a doctor.
-What did the home pregnancy test say? -Did not do one.
-But you missed your period? -No, I know my body,
and it is carrying Fun Size's sister.
Probably named Symone.
Okay, sorry. I guess I'm wrong. Congrats.
Thank you! But don't tell anyone at work.
Larson axes women when they get pregnant.
And he's currently fucking two factory workers.
-Identical twin sisters. -Oh, is he?
(ominous music plays)
My baby shower is this Saturday night.
-Don't forget. -Halloween?!
No, I-- That's Santa's birthday.
I'm the host this year. It's a huge deal.
Santa's birthday's practically like a, a North Pole holiday.
(cries) What is next? Mother's Day?
Okay, stop. God, don't cry.
It's fine. I can do both.
I can... stop by here,
and then get to his thing.
But I should get to work right now, so...
Cool! And you don't have to get me a present.
But if you do, make it a gift card
because I don't trust your taste. Byeee.
Timmy the Toy Guy: I made a gift for Santa's birthday,
and, well... I wanted your opinion
since you work so closely together.
Oh god, yeah. I totally know his taste.
(light music plays)
Magnificent.
But doesn't it look a little like--
A little like what?
(ominous music plays)
The perfect gift for the man
who has everything?
Bravo, Timmy, bravo!
Okay, so busy.
Tight schedule. Gotta go.
(laughs) We've almost made it, Hans-Otto!
(Jeremy laughs)
Candy: Seating chart? Done.
Beverages? Done. Appetizers? Done.
All right, get up and help, bozo.
You're in charge of ice sculptures.
Sure, everybody loves ice sculptures,
but if I mush together a bunch of human babies
for my party, they'll call me a monster.
You know what? Excuse me,
I need to cry at the inhumanity displayed here.
Don't follow me!
Whoa! Look at you.
I didn't know it was Picture Day.
You look Devin-ishly handsome.
Just tryna step up my game.
I...
have something to talk to you about,
-but I'm really nervous. -Aw, that's so flattering.
Are you scared shitless of me, too?
I've always wanted someone to be scared shitless of me.
-Definitely. Very shitless. -Yay!
Okay, here it goes,
if you're made Successor,
I'd like to be considered as your Number Two.
I'm not just some college slob. I want a career here.
Look at this straight talk.
And the ambition? I love it!
Very Candy circa Boxing Day.
And as far as becoming my Number Two, with a shit-ton of training,
I can possibly see it happening in like 15 years,
-but, you know, no promises. -15 years, but no promises?
Candy, you're making a boy's dreams come true!
Woo!
You will never go far in this industry
by whirling your boss around.
Writin' that one down.
All right, let's get to work.
I'm planning Santa's party.
Brent always did a lot of nice toasts,
you know, "We love you... blah, blah, blah."
I wanna go bigger.
I'm thinking I'd go more roast than toast.
Dudes love that shit!
Brutality hidden under the veil of lighthearted banter?
Yeah! On my 21st,
Horse Cock did a tight 45 minutes
on how fat my ass was.
I laughed so hard that night...
though I cried myself to sleep.
I'm sure it was unrelated.
Roasts are hilarious, as long as you have good material.
Oh, do I. (ominous laugh)
I-I can't stop eating ham.
When I was pregnant with Fun Size,
all I wanted was Oreos.
Isn't that kinda cannibalistic?
That'd be like me eating venison.
Ladies... Goldie.
An invite to Santa's birthday party?
Candy said it was for work people only.
It is, but I'm on a career track at Santa Inc.,
and was given a special plus-one
to the North Pole's biggest event of the year,
besides Christmas, of course.
And you, m'lady,
are the only one I want to invite.
Oh my god, that is so sweet.
Sorry, I can't.
That's the night of Cookie's baby shower.
Oh my god, that is so sweet.
Oh, you can reject me now, but I'll be back.
We dyslexics don't give up easily.
Oh! Oh! Oh!
Oh-eee! Oh.
Oh, that was great, oh.
I'm sorry I screamed about fuckin' a goblin before I came.
Don't read into that.
Happy 75th birthday, Nick.
Now maybe you'd like to do oral sex?
Sure, yeah, I'll take another Viagra,
and then I'll, uh, have another erection,
-and then, uh-- -I meant on me.
What? On my birthday?
Yes! Now get under those covers, and go down on your fucking wife
for once since Biggie killed Tupac!
Jeremy (oh phone): Oh... (gags)--
Ah, I-- Ugh.
I can't help tonight. I'm sick.
Yeah, I've got a fever and chills.
Jeremy, I know you're lying.
I can see you floating by.
Now I have to go. You've made me late.
Jeremy: The one doing Molly isn't me!
Hey, pass that Molly.
Have fun at Santa's party.
We'll be spending a quiet night at home.
There's a World War I doc I'm gonna watch.
I'll always regret never bein' in a war.
Legal murder is the shit.
And I'll spend the night getting ahead on my taxes?
Ha! I knew you assholes are crashing.
Just don't embarrass me until my roast is over.
This is gonna be Santa's best birthday party ever.
Could you make sure to mention the retired coal miners?
Exposure to that fancy crowd will really help the cause.
Grandpa, no. Tonight's a celebration.
It's not a time for depressing shit like that.
Coal miners' issues are anything but depressing!
Tony knows. He's been hangin' out there lately.
(coughing)
Bein' down there gave me coal cough.
Well, that's all she wrote, evil world.
See ya!
Ahh!
-(crash, car alarm beeps) -(woman screams)
Yeah, the coal miners' cause is not depressing at all.
(softly): Oh shit.
Candy says
she's sorry she can't come,
but she'll make it up to you.
I'm so sorry, Cook.
To be honest, I think I used
this shower as an excuse for us to spend time with her.
You know what? Go to Santa's birthday party with Devin.
Really? You wouldn't care?
Oh, I would resent you,
and talk tons of shit for many years,
but I can't control you...
Kidding! I don't care.
I have Craig and Fun Size.
Now get outta here, bitch.
Oh, that is the most sentimental "bitch" I've ever said.
Craig? Runnin' low on ham!
Candy: Happy Birthday, Santa.
Tonight there will be cake, there will be presents...
and yes, oh yes, there will be blood.
I mean, not real, but metaphorical blood.
Guest: Hey, Candy. Nice gangster costume!
This glass has a smudge. Not acceptable.
This is Santa's birthday party!
Take them all back.
Pinocchio is a bastardization
-of an old fairytale in which the boy dies-- -Sexy and hilarious.
-(laughing) -(party music plays)
And, well, yes, I'm the character The Great Gatsby
from the book "The Great Gatsby."
-You look beautiful. -I'm Tonya Harding.
She was the first American to land
a triple axel in competition.
A badass and a true athlete.
Double vodka martini. Straight up.
You got it.
I love your costume, Mrs. Claus.
Did you want your martini... dirty?
(chuckles) Make it filthy.
So filthy someone needs to call
the Health Department. (laughs)
Welcome to Santa's 75th Birthday Extravaganza!
It's a big one, ladies and jellybeans.
Now pipe down and shut it,
or I'll mow your asses to the ground!
But first, a few of our Successor contenders
would like to speak to Santa on his big day.
(cheers)
At first, I considered the tried and true,
a cupcake-of-the-month club
subscription for Santa,
but then, I was like,
"What about two cupcakes every month club?"
Unfortunately, it does not exist.
So, I went-- And now...
without further ado,
I would like to reveal to you,
my gift for Santa.
-A toy that represents... -(winding clicks)
your lifetime.
(music box plays)
-(guest ooh and aah) -Santa: Ah.
(guests cheering and applauding)
Santa: God.
(sighs)
Santa: Bravo, bravo!
Big Candy: Psst, hey, honey.
How'd you like to meet Mr. Claus?
Mr. Lobster Claws!
(grunting)
Candy: Tonight we've heard some beautiful toasts.
But now, let's get to the real fun.
A roast... not of Santa...
of my fellow Successor contenders.
Oh yeah! I love a roast!
First of my rivals, Junior.
But God and a bad game of golf have already taken care of him.
-(guests laughing) -Guest: Oh, sick burn!
So, let's move on to Jingle Jim.
Turns out he's had a hard life. Why make it worse, right?
Amp it up! You're bein' too nice. Be a bad bitch!
Hold your reindeer, birthday boy!
Now, what about our own Timmy?
All he ever talks about is toys.
I had no idea he was a history buff, too...
until I saw his gift to Santa.
It blew me away in about six million different ways.
-(guests booing) -I did not see that when I designed it.
Not see! You hear me? Not see!
Not see! Am I helping?!
Oh, he is a Nazi.
Holy shit!
That might have actually been the best moment of my entire life.
(quietly): Bang bang, fuck face.
Oh my god, that was awful.
Let's continue with something sweeter...
or someone sweeter.
Our own Larson, King of Chocolate,
and a longtime supporter of women's rights,
not to mention their tits and asses.
Ha! I wish. Married 28 years.
And I don't need to cheat.
My hot wife and I fuck constantly!
She just gave me a handy under the table!
Both: Larson!
You told me you guys never fucked!
Wait, what?!
You don't even have a vagina.
Mrs. Claus: A cheater as Santa?
Jingle Jim: A swinger as Successor?
This is going to alienate the evangelicals.
Massacre complete.
I am so shocked and sorry by what's happened.
I had no idea some lighthearted roasting
would reveal such character damnation.
My bad.
Do not apologize!
A party mixed with presents, a toast, roasts,
a Nazi, and sizzling gossip?
Hands down, weirdest and best birthday ever!
Thanks, Santa.
Now let's get to the moment
we've all been waiting for, shall we?
Ah-ha. Ah-ha!
Important people of Santa Inc.!
The coal miners are the unsung heroes of Santa Inc.,
and we are treated like shit by you,
so tonight we sing to you of our plight.
♪ Coal mines make me sick ♪
♪ But not sick like my dick ♪
Stop it! Grandpa, Tony,
you're ruining this party! Nobody cares about coal!
Candy! How could you?
You're a coal miner's daughter!
Poppin' out of a cake!
Happy Birthday, Big Guy!
Santa and The Board,
you all have coal dust on your hands!
Wow, this is a lot--
-Guest 1: Oh my god! -Call 911!
Guest 2: We better not get blamed for this shit.
-Guest 3: I was in the Bahamas. -Oh my god.
Essential services is down because of the blizzard.
-What about the sleigh? -Oh shit!
-I'm having it renovated. -What do we do?
Follow me!
-(panting) -(intense music plays)
I got you, Santa. I got you.
Oh God.
Fat Man is in the building!
10 cc's of eggnog, stat!
Oh god. Please save Santa.
(grunting)
♪ ♪
Candy: He's the strongest person there is.
There's no way he won't be okay.
I think what would help Santa now is the love of my new BFF.
I'm talkin' about Christ.
My boy J.C.!
Accept Jesus into your life with this baptism!
Save your soul and Santa's life.
-Get off of her! -Dr. Fruitcake: Mrs. Claus,
I have some good news and some bad news.
-The good news is, Santa is in stable condition. -(all sigh with relief)
The bad news is, the stable condition,
-is a medically induced coma. -(all gasp)
Which is actually good news because it gives us time
-to prepare for a very lengthy and complicated surgery. -(all sigh with relief)
-Which is bad news. -(all gasp)
Because I won't be home for dinner and it's lasagna night,
and, I, like a certain feline named Garfield, live for lasagna,
but I guess that's just bad news for me.
All right, we have no choice but to enact Article Seven,
Subsection B of the North Pole Edict:
(clears throat)
"When a Santa becomes incapacitated,
"and cannot carry out his duties,
the Board must anoint an Acting Santa."
Now, normally this would be the Successor,
but since Santa's been stringing us along
like he's in a filthy reality show,
we are obligated to go with the highest-ranking member of Santa Inc.,
which, in this case, would be...
-(patriotic music plays) -I, Candy Smalls, do solemnly swear
to honor all the traditions and spirit of Christmas...
and will to the best of my abilities preserve and protect...
Jingle Jim: Well, well, well,
if it isn't the first Santa who pees sitting down.
Ha, ha. Is there any update on Santa's condition?
Is he, is he dead?
-He's still in surgery. -Oh! We did it!
Yeah! Y'all a bunch of ugly losers!
And me and Candy, but mostly me,
are a couple of sexy-ass winners!
Enough, Jeremy. You're lazy and entitled,
and I thought you'd grow up and change, but you haven't.
So, you're fired.
Wha-- Candy!
How can you do that to me?
Wait, do I get unemployment?
Because if I do, whatever, but if I don't, you suck!
Ah, there you are! It's Cookie. She went into labor.
Craig texted me, and said something went wrong.
Girl Santa on the move. Girl Santa on the move.
Mm, mm, mm. This whole thing sucks.
I'm sorry the coffee's so bad.
-I hate hospitals. -Oh, me too.
You know, uh, when I was getting divorced,
I read something about how, at the end of the day,
we just need to tuck our worries under the pillow,
and have faith that, by morning,
they'll all float away.
That's from the Tooth Fairy's memoir,
"Beneath the Pillow."
I just read that! That's what my costume is!
Oh yeah. That's right.
Is she just so darn impressive or what?
Really, the Tooth Fairy's the only self-made woman
in the whole holiday industry.
She really is. If only all of us could have...
that woman's courage, I--
I'm sorry. I should probably go.
Well, uh, hey, if there's ever anything you need,
you just knock on the door of the Thirsty Deer,
and I'll be there.
Cookie, are you okay?
Aw, my friends. I have sad news.
I gave birth to a seven-pound six-ounce honey-baked ham.
It was a hysterical pregnancy.
Symone was a ham!
So, you're okay? Good. What a relief.
But, hey, did you hear? I'm Acting Santa!
How cool is that? Ho, ho, ho. Ha!
I mean, hopefully, he'll be fine.
Fuck, I'm hungry.
Hm, and so insensitive.
What does that mean? An elf can't eat
a big hunk of rye bread anymore?
You flaked on the baby shower,
before we found out it was a ham shower,
but it was still a big event for her.
You're talking about being there for Cookie's life moments?
You fucked the best man at her wedding.
So what? That happens all the time.
During the ceremony?
My mother still cries when she talks about it.
I'm just saying, I've always been there for both of you,
and now if I'm, maybe, being a little bit self-focused,
I would, you know, think you would give me a pass.
We've given you a lot of passes lately.
And, Candy, I saw your face during that roast...
You were so vicious. I didn't even recognize you.
Ms. Smalls, there's an update on Santa's condition.
Oh my god, is he dead?! I mean, is he okay? Is he well?
-Unknown. -I gotta go. I'll check in later.
And then, like, after three years, she fires me.
It's so unfair.
If anything, I deserve a raise and my own assistant.
You agree, right?
Have you even been listening to me?
My last words are... (gasps for air)
you seem super-entitled.
-(flatline) -(family cries)
Um, not sure which one of you that was for,
but I hope you learn from this.
It was a mild heart arrhythmia.
Mrs. Claus is with him.
So, he's really gonna be okay?
Yes! Why do you all look so alarmed?
Because you're covered in old blood!
It's just chocolate.
One of the nurses brought brownies.
But I'm afraid those delicious treats
have zero percent chance of survival.
As soon as Santa recovers, he must name a Successor.
And Devin just kept going through the snow
until he got you here.
You know, he's big, but he doesn't seem strong.
I guess it's like when a mom lifts a van off her baby, you know?
Like, he saw me, his hero, in trouble,
and... he just Hulked the fuck out.
Santa! I'm so glad you're okay.
I guess it's true what they say, your heart is way too big.
It wasn't his heart.
Um... his lap implants burst,
which led to sepsis.
I thought the implants were indestructible,
like part titanium and part dinosaur or something.
I did, too, but I guess it just took a special situation to break them down.
You see, Candy, earlier today I was going down on Mrs. Claus,
-cunnilingus-- -She doesn't need this information!
No, no, she does, and it's fine.
Look, Candy, it's just that,
to get my tongue at the right angle,
I have to spread my legs like a dog,
-like lying on a rug kinda-- -This is so humiliating.
(awkward laughter)
(Candy laughs)
(laughs) Ho, ho, ho!
Santa: Man of the hour.
Come on in.
For carrying me all that way,
I can only say with the deepest and most sincere gratitude,
I fuckin' owe you, brah.
Just happy I could help.
Hey, I know it's late, but...
I've got some special visitors.
(all laughing)
Come on, you little rascal.
What did you guys wanna say?
Kids: Get well soon, Santa!
That was better than any medicine.
Except for the medicine of morphine,
which is... much better.
All right, people! Santa needs to rest.
Party's over. Outta here.
-Skedaddle. Shoo, shoo. -Ooh, an elf.
-I like your ears. -No! I-- Don't touch my ears!
They're sensitive! Stop it! No!
Bad kid! Easy, easy. Ahh!
Let go of me on the count of three.
One, two-- Aah! Stop it! Ow!
-Kid: Get over here, shorty. -Candy: F-ing stop!
Ugh, what a fucking night. Oh god, now it's even worse.
We're goin' to stay with Uncle Ding Dong,
even though he has a mink farm in his living room.
It's better than staying with you,
‘cause you're the worst.
I will not sleep in this house
for one more night with a traitor!
Well, I totally agree!
I was just coming home to kick you guys out!
I can't believe the shit you pulled at Santa's party!
You're the traitors!
-(knock on window) -Snowman: Candy,
I finally found you.
-Snowie? -I've been sitting in Santa's office so long,
I lost my sense of direction.
But I have to tell you,
yesterday, I heard Santa say
who he's choosing as a Successor.
Crazy, right?
Yes, crazy, and a name, please?
Oh my gosh, I forgot to say.
I've been in that globe so long,
my social skills are a bit cloudy.
Goddammit, Snowie, who is it?
Santa's choosing you!
Now I'm going to make up for lost time.
I've been craving a cobb salad for 17 years.
(screaming) Wah!
I did it. I won.
I'm going down in history.
Everybody's a sucker but me!
You just can't get a good cobb salad in a snow globe.
-Gotcha, ya icy bastard! -Ahh! No!
(toys whirring)
(joyful music playing)
(toys whirring)
♪ ♪