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Bad Santa (2003), 91 min – Comedy | Crime | Drama – 26 November 2003 (USA)
A miserable conman and his partner pose as Santa and his Little Helper to rob department stores on Christmas Eve. But they run into problems when the conman befriends a troubled kid, and the security boss discovers the plot.
Willie: What do you want?
Fraggle-Stick Boy: Fraggle-Stick car.
Willie: What the fuck is that?
Fraggle-Stick Boy: Fraggle-Stick car.
Willie: Well I heard you. Fraggle-Stick car. Fine.
Kid: Why do you need a car?
Willie: What the fuck are you talking about?
Kid: This car.
Willie: Which turn is it?
Kid: Sage Terrace. Where's your sleigh?
Willie: It's in the shop, getting repaired.
Kid: Where are the reindeer?
Willie: I stabled them. Is it left or right?
Kid: That way. Where's the stable?
Willie: Next to the shop.
Kid: How do they sleep?
Willie: Who? The reindeer? Standing up.
Kid: But the noise. How do they sleep?
Willie: What noise?
Kid: From the shop.
Willie: They only work during the day, all right?
Kid: I thought it was always night at the North Pole.
Willie: Well, not now. Right now it's always day.
Kid: Then how do they sleep?
Willie: Oh, shit. Sage Terrace. What is it with you, anyway? Somebody drop you on your fucking head?
Kid: On *my* head?
Willie: Well, yeah. What, are they gonna drop you on somebody else's head?
Kid: How can they drop me onto my own head?
Willie: No, not *onto* your… Would… God damn it! Are you fucking with me?
Marcus: You're an emotional fucking cripple. Your soul is dog shit. Every single fucking thing about you is ugly.
Kid: You are really Santa, right?
Willie: No, I'm an accountant. I wear this fucking thing as a fashion statement, alright?
Kid: Should I fix you some sandwiches?
Willie: I don't want any fucking sandwiches. What is it with you and fixin' fucking sandwiches?
Sue: Fuck me, Santa! Fuck me, Santa! Fuck me, Santa!
Let me give you some news. I'm not Santa Claus, all right?
I know there's no Santa. I just thought maybe you'd want to give me a present 'cause we're friends.
Woman in Food Court: Look who's here! It's Santa! Tell Santa what you want for Christmas!
Willie: [yelling] I'm on my fucking lunch break, OK?
Woman in Food Court: The manager's going to hear about this.
Willie: You think you're a threat? You think you can make my fucking life any worse? Go ahead, take a shot!
Kid: Your beard's not real.
Willie: No Shit!It was real, but I got sick and all the hair fell out.
Kid: How come?
Willie: I loved a woman who wasn't clean.
Kid: Mrs. Santa?
Willie: No it was her sister.
[Willie has just passed out]
Gin: Look here, get himy outta here and I'll go smooth things over with Chipeska, Tell him it was food poisoning or something.
Marcus: What do you mean, get him outta here?
Gin: Take him to the car.
Marcus: In case you didn't notice I'm a motherfucking dwarf, so unless you got a forklift handy, maybe you should lend a hand hmm?
Gin: That figures. You want all kind of set-asides. Special treatment 'cause you're handicapped. You're all the same.
Marcus: Special treatment? I'm 3-foot-fucking-tall you asshole! It's a matter of physics. Draw me a sketch of how I get him to the car, huh?
Gin: Bitch, Bitch, Bitch!
Marcus: Sketch it up, you fucking moron. Fucking Leonardo da Vinci.
Gin: What'd you call me thigh-high?
Marcus: I called you a fucking guinea homo from the 15th-fucking-century, you dickhead!
Gin: I could stick you up my ass, small fry.
Marcus: Yeah? You sure it ain't too sore from last night?
Gin: You got some lip on you midget.
Marcus: Yeah? Well these lips were on your wife's pussy last night. Why don't you dust that thing off once in a while? Asshole!