Disclaimer: 1. I love “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” It’s one of my favorite Christmas TV shows. That said, there’s only so many times you can watch it before it becomes easy to re-write some of the dialog. So I finally did. 2. This re-telling is a bit raunchy. If you’re easily offended, or like to get offended on behalf of others, do us all a favor and skip it. Otherwise, enjoy!
Sam the Snowman: If it wasn’t for all the booze and weed, I’d probably never forget that big-ass snowstorm that came tear-assing through here a couple of years ago. Believe it or not, we almost missed Christmas. Oh, wait – where the fuck are my manners? Call me Sam. Yeah, I’m a talking snowman, get over it…. Nice around here, huh? I call it Christmas Town, better known as Santa’s Slave Shop by those poor elf bastards. There’s where we grow the trees, big whoop. Colder’n a shitbird around here. Christmas seals, get it? Hardy fucking har. Over there is where the Clauses live. Only place around here with central heating, the bastards.
Mrs. Clause: Papa, I worked all day in the kitchen on this shit. You had better fucking eat it.
Santa: I would, if it didn’t smell like something you dug out of a pile of seal crap.
Mrs. Clause: Wow, that’s the thanks I get? I hope you choke on it, ya creep.
Sam: Now, don’t any of you worry about Santa. He’ll be his usual fat-fuck self by the time Christmas rolls around. Same shit, different year… Ah, I pretty dig this time of year, before the shit really hits the fan. Pretty mellow. Nothing like that year of that big-ass storm I was telling you about a minute ago. I don’t know what we would have done if ol’ Rudolph hadn’t save our asses. Anyway… Hmm, Rudolph? Could it be that some of you numb-nuts haven’t heard the story of Rudolph? Well, roll up a fatty and grab a brew. Now, you know how Santa uses these flying reindeer to pull his sleigh, right? You know Dasher, and Dancer, and Comet, and Cupid, and all those other freaking reindeer whose names I can’t remember. (Singing) But do you recall, the most fucked-up reindeer of all?
Well, now, let me tell you about Rudolph. It all started a couple of years before that big-ass snowstorm. It was springtime, and Santa’s head honcho reindeer, Donner’s old lady had just squeezed out a pup.
Donner: We’ll call him Rudolph.
Mrs. Donner: Yes, dear… sir.
Donner: Hey, Rudolph! Check it out, he know’s his name.
Rudolph: Papa. Momma.
(Rudolph’s nose glows bright red)
Mrs. Donner: He’s got a shiny nose!
Donner: Shiny?! What are you, fucking blind?
Mrs. Donner: I’m sorry dear… don’t hit me.
Donner: What are we gonna do? His beak blinks like a freakin’ beacon!
(Santa enters)
Santa: Well, Donner, where’s your shorty? After all, if he’s gonna work for me, he’d better learn who’s the fucking boss. Ah, there he is. Well, aren’t you the sturdy little fellow?
Rudolph: Santa.
Santa: How’d the fuck he know my name?
(Rudolph’s nose glows)
Santa: Holy freaking shit!
Donner: I’m sure it’ll stop when he grows up, Santa.
Santa: I hope so, for the little freak’s own good. (To Rudolph) You see, ya weirdo, every year I shine up my jingle bells for eight lucky Reindeer.
Donner: (mumbling) Lucky, my ass.
Santa: (singing) Jingle jingle jingle
That’s the sound of all my dough
I am old Kris Kringle
I’m the richest jerk I know
Jingle jingle reindeer
They’re the fastest deer you’ll see
They know if they don’t haul ass
It’s Reindeer Fricassee
You must believe that on Christmas Eve
I’m going to get lit
When I jump on board my magic sleigh
I’ll be drunk as shit
Jingle jingle jingle
You will hear my sleigh bells ring
I am old Kris Kringle
I don’t really like to sing
I am old Kris Kringle
Fuck this, I’m out
Rudolph: Bye-bye.
Donner: Oh, Santa’s right. He’s a mutant through and through.
Mrs. Donner: Wait, what?
Donner: Wait a minute! I’ve got it! We’ll suffocate him by cramming his nostrils with mud.
Mrs. Donner: Umm….
Donner: Come here, you little freak. Hold still while daddy performs a little retroactive abortion. Ah, fuck, it didn’t work. Oh, well, might as well let him live. If anyone asks, you had an affair with Blitzen, got it?
Mrs. Donner: Yes, dear. Sir.
Sam: Well, for the first year, Donner and his old lady did a pretty fair job of hiding the fact that their son was a complete freak. In spite of his seething hatred, Donner taught Rudolph all the shit reindeers need in order to survive: how to steal food, how to make a shiv out of a toothbrush, crap like that. But most important of all, Donner taught Rudolph to keep the hell away from the Abominable Snow Monster of the North. He’s mean! He’s nasty! And worst of all, his ass smelled like a burning jockstrap filled with shit and old cheese.
Anyway, aside from that big hairy fucker, business goes on as usual, and soon it is right before Christmas, and everybody is working their ass off so that Santa doesn’t come down on them like he did that one year of the strike. See, all the toys Santa brings are made by these poor elves, who made the mistake of signing a contract without reading the fine print and have to live on slave wages. Even this one elf who was a little light in the loafers, if you catch my drift.
Head Elf: Hermey! What the fuck is taking you? You’ve got a shit-ton of stuff that needs painting. What’s your major malfunction, boy?
Hermey: Not happy in my work, I guess.
Head Elf: WHAT?!!!!
Hermey: I just don’t like to make toys.
Head Elf: Oh, well, if that’s all… WHAT?!!! You don’t like to make toys?!
Hermey: What are you, deaf?
Head Elf: Hermey doesn’t like to make toys!
2nd Elf: Hermey doesn’t like to make toys!
3rd Elf: Hermey’s as gay as the day is long!
Head Elf: You mind telling me what you DO want to do?
Hermey: Well, sir, someday I’d like to be a… a hairdresser.
Head Elf: A hairdresser?!
Hermey: Well, we could use one up here. I mean, when’s the last time you looked in a mirror? I’ve been practicing on some rats I caught running around the kitchen, and now they look fabulous!
Head Elf: Now, listen, you little simp. You’re an elf, and you’re gonna make toys, and like it.
(Whistle blows)
Head Elf: Bathroom break! (To Hermey) Not for you! Paint this shit, or I’ll stomp your ass but good.
Hermey: (singing) Why am I such a misfit?
I am not just a dip-shit
Fuck a whole bunch of this shit
I’m blowing this joint.
Sam: Ah, well. That’s what they get for not reading the fine print… Meanwhile, Rudolph’s life isn’t exactly a bed of roses, either. Ol’ Donner is still trying to make his child appear halfway normal.
Donner: All right, son. Put this on.
Rudolph: I don’t wanna!
(Donner pops a fake nose onto Rudolph)
Rudolph: Daddy, I can’t breathe!
Donner: Good grief, don’t be such a pussy.
Rudolph: Oh, but daddy! It’s not very comfortable.
Donner: There are more important things than comfort! Other people’s opinions! Especially that bastard, Santa.
Rudolph: (singing) Why am I such a misfit?
I am not just a dip-shit
Just because my schnozz glows
Seems, I don’t fit in.
Sam: And so, time passes. Christmas comes and goes on schedule, and before you know it, it’s fucking April already. That’s when all the shorties come out with their folks… to meet the other fawns, maybe have their first beer or whatnot.
Donner: Now, don’t worry about your nose, son. Just get out there and do your stuff, and remember, don’t make me beat your ass.
Fireball: Hi, my name’s Fireball. What’s yours?
Rudolph: Nunya.
Fireball: Whatever, jerk.
Rudolph: Where’s everyone going?
Fireball: The Reindeer Games, dumb-ass. Puts hair on your balls. Plus, you can show off in front of all the chicks.
Sam: Ah, getting old sucks. Meanwhile, those poor elves are still hard at work. Christmas is over, but they’re still contractually obligated to work all year, cleaning out the shitters and whatnot.
Head Elf: All out for elf practice!
Santa: Let’s get this over with. There’s a bourbon with my name on it.
Head Elf: All right, We’re gonna sing that song I wrote, and you guys better not fuck it up like last time. And a one, and a two, and a three.
Elf Chorus: Ho ho ho, ho ho ho
We are Santa’s slaves
We are Santa’s slaves
We work until our graves
Endless toys for the girls and boys
We are Santa’s slaves
We work hard all day
With jack-shit for pay
If we rest then he’ll beat our ass
We are Santa’s slaves
We’ve a thankless job each year
And barely get to eat
If we stop we’re likely to get beat
Santa’s got a whip
He runs a real tight ship
If he beats you
He’ll beat me too
We are Santa’s slaves
Ho ho ho, ho ho ho
We are Santa’s slaves, ho ho!
Santa: That sucked ass. I’m out.
Mrs. Clause: Oh, what does he know, the bastard. He wouldn’t know a good song if it bit him on the ass. Papa? Papa!
Head Elf: That fucking sucked! The tenor section was lame!
Elf: Wasn’t our fault, boss. Hermey’s ass didn’t show up.
Head Elf: WHAT?!!!!
Hermey: (to a doll) One more snip and you’ll look divine.
(Head Elf comes crashing in)
Head Elf: Where the fuck have you been?
Hermey: Just giving this doll a makeover.
Head Elf: A makeover?! Now listen, you. We have dolls that burp, fart, puke, cry, and shit themselves. We don’t need dolls with growing hair.
Hermey: I just thought I found a way to fit in.
Head Elf: You’ll NEVER fit in, ya loser. You come to elf practice and learn to wiggle your ears and chuckle warmly and fetch Santa’s bourbon and rub his feet or whatever he tells you to rub, or so help me I will wear you out. A hairdresser! Fuck me dead.
Hermey: No. I just can’t. It’s like he said. I’ll never fit in. Time to get the hell out of Dodge.
(Meanwhile, at the Reindeer Games)
Fireball: Hey, look! Dames!
(A gaggle of does giggle brainlessly)
Fireball: Hey, look. One of them’s giving you the eye.
Rudolph: Yeah, Fireball? Huh, I’d hit that.
Fireball: Shit, it’s the coach.
Comet the Coach: All right! All right, yearlings! Quiet down, ya little pukes. My name is Comet. Even though I’m the coach, I wanna be your special friend, right? That means we don’t talk to our parents about what happens behind the barn, got it? Ok, our first game is called Takeoff.
Reindeer kid: Takeoff? What the-
Comet: We all want to pull Santa’s sleigh one day, right? Gotta feed the fam. So who wants to go first?
Reindeer: Me! Me!
Lone reindeer: I’m so hungry.
Comet: One at a time, ya little sons of bitches! You there! You’re Dasher’s little boy, by the look of your sac. You go first. The whole trick is to run as fast as you can, and then jump as hard as fuck. Got it? Give it a shot.
(Dasher’s son runs and jumps, flops onto his belly. All the others laugh)
Comet: Holy shit, did you guys see that? That was fucking pathetic. Next!
Fireball: He won’t get to us for a while. Now’s your chance to go hit on that skirt.
Clarice: Nice day.
Rudolph: Yup.
Clarice: For takeoff practice, I mean.
Rudolph: If you say so.
Clarice: I bet you’ll be the best.
Rudolph: Well, I’m bound to be better than that first ass-clown.
Clarice: Something wrong with your nose? I mean, you talk kind of funny.
Rudolph: What’s so funny ‘bout the way I talk?
Clarice: Well, don’t get your panties in a twist. Jeez.
Rudolph: Sorry.
Clarice: My name’s Clarice. Hi.
Rudolph: My name’s Rudolph. Hi.
Clarice: Hi.
Rudolph: Hey Clarice, after practice, would you.. would you…
Comet: Rudolph, get your ass over here! It’s your turn.
Rudolph: Gee, I gotta go back. Would you walk home with me?
Clarice: Uh huh. Rudolph, I think you’re hot.
Rudolph: I’m hot! I’m hot! (He flies around joyously)
Comet: Holy shit!
Rudolph: I’m hot! I’m hot! She said I’m hot!
Comet: All right, jeez. Don’t get a swelled head.
Fireball: Hey, you’re not such a loser, after all.
Rudolph: She said I’m hot!
(Rudolph’s fake nose pops off, revealing his glowing one)
Fireball: What the living fuck?
Rudolph: Fireball, what’s the matter?
Fireball: Stay away from me, ya mutant!
Comet: What’s all this nonsense here, bucks? After all – E-fucking-gads!
Other reindeer: Take a look at that, willya?
Hey, Fire Snout!
Dick Nose!
Pimple Beak!
Rudolph: Stop calling me names!
Reindeer: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer!
Santa: (to Donner) Well, Donner, your kid has brought eternal shame to you and everything you love. I hate your guts. Too bad, he had a nice takeoff.
Comet: All right now, yearlings, back to practice. (to Rudolph) Oh, no. Not you you, weirdo. You’d better high-tail it out of here before we beat you to a pulp. From now on, Rudolph will be ostracized at every turn. Right? Right!
(Rudolph walks away in shame. Clarice approaches)
Rudolph: Well, what do you want?
Clarice: Don’t take that tone with me, buddy.
Rudolph: Aren’t you going to laugh at my nose?
Clarice: I think it’s weird and cool. Much better than that false one you were wearing.
Rudolph: It’s terrible. It’s different than everybody else’s.
Clarice: That’s what makes it so rad. Any doe would consider herself lucky to be with you.
Rudolph: Yeah? But I wasn’t very lucky today, was I?
Clarice: Geez, give it a rest, drama queen.
Rudolph: I wish… I wish…
Clarice: (singing) There’s always some asshole
To shit on your dreams
And make you feel like you suck
There’s always some asshole
To laugh in your face
But don’t listen to that little fuck
We all pretend
That we don’t need friends
To protect us from dick-heads and jerks
There’s always some asshole
To shit on your dreams
And make fun of all of your quirks
We all pretend
That we don’t need friends
To protect us from dick-heads and jerks
There’s always an asshole
To ruin your day
And make fun of all of your quirks
Clarice’s Father: Clarice! Go home, you little slut!
Clarice: But I-
Clarice’s Father: This instant, you little trollop.
Clarice: (mumbling) Asshole.
Clarice’s Father: There’s one thing I want to make plain: if you’re shagging that little red-nosed twerp, it’s back to reform school for you.
(Clarice leaves with her dad. Rudolph sits forlornly. Suddenly Hermey pops out of the snowbank)
Hermey: Oh, is this your snowbank?
Rudolph: What the fuck?
Hermey: Sorry, I’m running away from Santa’s castle.
Rudolph: How come?
Hermey: That place is a hell-hole. I’m going to become a free-lance hairdresser. I’m independent.
Rudolph: Yeah? Me, too. I’m… whatever you said. Independent.
Hermey: Hey, what do you say we stick together and become completely codependent?
Rudolph: You wouldn’t mind my glowing schnoz?
Hermey: Not if you don’t mind me bringing strange men home at all hours.
Rudolph: Works for me.
Rudolph and Hermey: (singing) We’re a couple of misfits
Fuck all of those dip-shits
We stick out like great big zits
That’s why we blew town
We got tired of those straight types
They’re a whole bunch of ass-wipes
We can’t swallow their dumb tripe
That’s why we blew town
You may be
Sick of this fucking song
It goes on way too long
We’re singing it all wrong
We’re a couple of misfits
Fuck all of those dip-shits
We stick out like great big zits
That’s why we blew town
We’re singing this song for the third time
So you’ll get sick of this dumb rhyme
Wash it out with some cheap wine
That’s our evil revenge
Sam the Snowman: Now, these two dumb-asses had no idea what the fuck they were doing. It didn’t take long for them to figure out they were well and completely boned.
(The Abominable Snowman menaces Rudolph and Hermey)
Hermey: The Abominable! He must see your nose. Great, you’re gonna get us both killed.
Sam: Like I said, these two idiots had no idea of the real world. (Shivering) Fuck! Where’s my Xanax?
(commercial break)
Sam: Well, somehow these two morons managed to make it through the first night.
(Yukon Cornelius approaches on his sled)
Cornelius: Mush! Mush, you little shits or it’s poodle-on-a-stick.
(Rudolph and Hermey dive head-first into a snowbank. Cornelius pulls them out)
Cornelius: You’ll freeze your ass off like that.
Rudolph: Who are you?
Cornelius: Who am I?! The name’s Yukon Cornelius, the drunkest prospector in the north! I buried a case of 12-year-old scotch around here somewhere, and I’ve been searching for it for months! Scotch, bitches! Not that piss they serve at the Dead Reindeer Inn. (He throws his pickaxe in the air) Wahoo! (He retrieves the pickaxe from the snow, then smells and licks it.
Cornelius: Fuck.
Sam: So what do you think of my old drinking buddy, Cornelius? Seems all he thinks about is bourbon and scotch.
(singing)
Bourbon and scotch
Bourbon and scotch
We’d all like a case of bourbon and scotch
How do you measure it’s worth
Just by the pleasure it gives here on Earth
Bourbon and scotch
Bourbon and scotch
Means so much more when I see
A big-ass tumbler of either
With a warm piece of ass for me
Cornelius: Well, I’m off to get my supplies. Cock-rings, porn mags, poppers and ass-beads. I’ll give you a lift. Hop aboard, jerk-wads.
(The Abominable Snow Monster shows up again)
Cornelius: Fuck me! The Bumble Snow Monster of the north strikes again!
Rudolph: It’s my nose. It’s gonna get us all killed.
Cornelius: I hate that hairy sumbitch. We’ll outwit the bastard with our superior intelligence!
Hermey: How?
Cornelius: Hide that nose, and let’s get the fuck outta here! Come on! Wahoo!
(The gang takes off on the sled, until they reach water)
Hermey: We’re trapped! We’re deader than shit-birds!
Rudolph: Hang on. Yukon here has a pistol, why don’t you just shoot—
Cornelius: The Bumble has one weakness, and I know it. (He chips away at the ice until they break free) Do-it-yourself icebergs! Observe! The Bumble’s one weakness! That dumb motherfucker can’t swim! Yukon Cornelius scores again! (He throws his pickaxe in the air again, then licks it) Fuck.
Rudolph: Mister, where are we going?
Cornelius: Your asses are mine now. Because of you, I’m leaving behind a sweet case of bourbon. Bourbon!
Hermey: I thought you said scotch.
Cornelius: Bitch, I will blow your fucking head off.
Sam: Yes, these numb-nuts were really on their way, but not one of them knew where they were going. Now, you can bet ol’ Donner felt like a real shit-heel for being such a dick to his son. Plus, he didn’t want to get CPS all up his ass, so he went out to look for him. Mrs. Donner wanted to go along, naturally, but Donner said, “Don’t make me hit you again, bitch.” No sooner did Donner split when Mrs. Donner and Clarice decided… wait, Clarice? Do those two even know each other? Anyway, whatever. Meanwhile, Rudolph and the gang were up a creek because, you see, that little ice boat had run into a pack of mighty wicked fog!
Cornelius: Hello! This fog is thick as gazpacho.
Hermey: You mean vichyssoise.
Cornelius: Yep, he’s gay, all right.
(The iceberg crashes into land)
Cornelius (screaming) Land ho!
Hermey: No shit, genius.
Rudolph: Where are we?
Cornelius: Hey, check that out!
(They look up to see a flying griffin)
Charlie: Halt! Who goes there?
Cornelius: Us, dumbass.
Charlie: Well, then that’s okay. Okay?! Who, may I ask, are you?
Rudolph: We’re Rudolph, Hermey, and Yukon Cornelius. Who are you?
Charlie: I’m the official sentry of the Island of Fucked-up Toys.
Hermey: A jack-n-the-box for a sentry?
Charlie: Yes. My name is—
Rudolph: Don’t tell me. Jack.
Charlie: No, smart-ass. Charlie. That’s why I’m a fucked-up toy. My name is all wrong. No child wants to play with a charlie-in-the-box, so I had to come here.
Rudolph: Can’t you just change your name? I mean—
Fucked-up Toys: (singing) We’re on the Island of Fucked-up Toys
Trapped in our own living hell
Stuck in this shit-hole the rest of our lives
Because we didn’t sell
A pack full of toys mean a sack full of joys
Form millions of girls and for millions of boys
When Christmas Day is here
The most depressing day of the year
A jack-in-the-box waits for children to clap
And say, “It’s time to open all of our crap!”
When Christmas Day is here
The most depressing day of the year
Left behind
For the hundredth time
As the years unwind
Because of that asshole, Santa Claus
A shotgun for Jimmy
A dolly for Sue
The kind that will even say
“Aren’t you a jew?”
When Christmas Day is here
The most depressing day of the year
Elephant: How would you like to be an elephant with herpes?
Train: Or a choo-choo with square wheels, for some reason?
Pistol: Or a water pistol that shoots flavored anal lube?
All: We’re all fucked up!
Bird: How would you like to be a bird that can’t fly, and has to take dumps in the water?
Cowboy: Or a cowboy who has sex with an ostrich!
Boat: Or a boat with a big-ass hole in the stern!
All: We’re all fucked up!
(singing) Yes, we’re on the Island of piece-of-shit toys
We’re tired of ending this next line with “boys”
When Christmas time is here
The most depressing, forsaken, heartbreaking, distressing,
Oppressive day of the year!
Rudolph: Hey, we’re all fuck-ups, too. Maybe we could crash here for a while.
Charlie: You’d have to get permission from King Hellraiser.
Rudolph: Who’s he?
Charlie: He rules here. Every night, he blows his wad at some titty bar in Anchorage while getting his drunk on. If he doesn’t get thrown out or arrested, he manages to fly back around noon. He’s sleeping one off in his castle right now.
(Rudolph and the gang enter the castle)
King Hellraiser: Come closer. And for God’s sake, keep the noise down.
Rudolph: We’re a couple of fuck-ups from Christmas Town, and now we’d like to live off of your tit for a while.
King Hellraiser: Fuckin’ freeloaders. Get off my island, you worthless scumbags.
Cornelius: How do you like that? This guy’s a bigger asshole than Santa Claus.
King Hellraiser: Unlike playthings, a living creature has to earn a living, so unless you want to scrub out the shitters, time to bounce. But maybe you can help the toys here.
Rudolph: Yeah, right.
King Hellraiser: When someday you return to Christmas Town, would you tell Santa to come get these freakin’ toys? Surely there are some kids out there so desperate for a toy that they’ll be glad to have some of this junk. Except for Dolly, she’s my “special friend.”
Rudolph: Well, we shouldn’t, because you’re such a jerk, but why not.
King Hellraiser: Thanks. For that, you can spend the night. Slaves! Show these fuck-bags to that drafty-ass cabin.
(Rudolph, Hermey, and Cornelius are all in the same bed)
Hermey: All three of us in the same bed! I must have died and gone to heaven.
Rudolph: Umm… this isn’t really my idea of a good time, fellas.
Cornelius: When you’ve been out here as long as I have, you take what you can get. G’night.
Rudolph: But—
Hermey: Who wants a body massage in the morning?
(Hermey and Cornelius fall asleep)
Sam: And so poor Rudolph realizes… he just doesn’t swing like that. And so, that night, he decides it’s time to get away from those two queens.
Rudolph: Goodbye, Cornelius. I hope you find enough bourbon to make sleeping with Hermey seem like a good idea. Goodbye, Hermey. I hope you open a truly fabulous styling salon some day.
Sam: Well, time went on like always. Rudolph existed as best he could. The snow monster kept him on the run… but once in a while, he’d stop long enough to snack on the weakest of the litter of whatever poor animals he came across. But during that time, a strange and wonderful thing happened: Rudolph’s balls descended. And that made him think about that hot little temptress, Clarice. So he decided to head back to Christmas Town in the hopes of scaring up a little poontang.
Jerk Reindeer: You! I thought your ass was dead! Hey, look who’s back: old neon nose!
Rudolph: Up yours, punk.
(Rudolph runs into his family’s cave)
Rudolph: Mom! Pa! I’m home!
Santa Claus: They’re gone, Rudolph. They’ve been gone for months, looking for you.
Rudolph: Clarice?
Santa: She’s gone, too. I’m very worried. Christmas Eve is only two days off, and without your father, I’ll never be able to get my sleigh off the ground.
Rudolph: It’s always about you, isn’t it? You selfish prick. Get the fuck out of my house.
Sam: About time someone told that fat fuck off. Anyway, that’s when that big-ass storm hit town. Rudolph knew he had to find his folks, and for some reason, he knew where they were, even though he’d never seen it: the cave of the Abominable Snow Monster!
(Rudolph enters the cave in time to see the Abominable about to eat Clarice)
Rudolph: Dad! Don’t be such a pussy!
(Rudolph runs forward and jabs the Abominable with his antlers. The Abominable clobbers Rudolph with a stalagmite or stalactite, whichever one of those fucking things hangs down)
Sam: (shuddering) Fuck, I need my Xanax!
(commercial break)
Sam: Where was I? Their last chance. Not quite. You see, ever since Rudolph left them, Hermey and Yukon Cornelius had tried to find their friend. They arrived in Christmas Town just as the storm hit. I swear to God, I’m the one who told them where to find him. Why won’t anyone believe me?
Hermey: Hey, look!
Cornelius: Whoa! Stop, you fucking stupid dogs!
Hermey: The Abominable! Quick, shoot that fucker!
Cornelius: I’ve got an idea. Listen. (He whispers to Hermey)
Hermey: Umm, okay…
Cornelius: And then… (He whispers some more)
Hermey: Seriously, why do you even carry a gun?
Clarice: (Standing over the prostrate Rudolph) At least he had more balls than his own father.
Rudolph: (Waking up) I’m… I’m Batman.
Hermey: I still don’t know why you don’t just shoot his ass.
Cornelius: Shut up, you little fag. This way is better. Now get up there and squeal like a pig!
(Hermey climbs to the top of the cave entrance)
Hermey: Oink, oink.
Cornelius: Put some balls into it! Try not to be such a nelly little bitch!
Hermey: FUCKING OINK! How’s that, bitch?
(The Abominable comes out of the cave. Cornelius dislodges a giant rock and sends it crashing down onto the monster’s head)
Cornelius: Take that, you furry fucker! That’s for my beloved dog, Rufus, whose bones you shat out a couple of weeks ago. All right, hairdresser. You take it from here.
Rudolph: It’s The Joker!
Cornelius: What the—?
Clarice: He took a hard one to the noggin. Can we go now?
Rudolph: Quck! To the Batmobile!
(The Abominable stands at the entrance to the cave, growling)
Cornelius: Time to see if Hermey finally pulled his weight.
Hermey: Don’t let this big ol’ fucker scare you anymore. He doesn’t want to mess up his fabulous ‘do.
Cornelius: I tell you, you’re looking at a mighty metrosexual Bumble! He’s ready for a night on the town with all his little girlfriends! Let me at him! Wahoo!
(Cornelius pushes the Abominable out of the cave and to the edge of the cliff, where they fall off, along with all the dogs)
Rudolph: Yukon! He’s gone! And all those yappy little dogs!
Hermey: (looking over the edge of the cliff) Wait, where’d he go? It’s not that far—
Sam: Well, they are all very sad at the loss of their friend, but not a single one of those sons of bitches went down to look for him. Instead, they high-tailed it back to Christmas Town. So they make it back, and when everybody hears their story, they start to realize… maybe they were a bunch of judgmental assholes who needed to spend a little more time worrying about their own shit. Even that fat fuck Santa realized he had been a grade-A douchebag.
Santa: Island of Fucked-up Toys, eh? Well, if this storm lets up, maybe I’ll check it out on the way out of town. Might be able to pass off a few of ‘em to some kids in Africa or something.
Head Elf: All right, you can open up your own salon. Next week, after Christmas.
Hermey: Well, it’s about time. You’re a real prince. Come around and I’ll give you your first decent haircut in your whole life at twenty percent off.
Donner: (to Rudolph) You have to understand, son. My father kept me tied to a tree for the first three years of my life.
(There’s a loud banging on the door)
Cornelius: Open up, you bastards! I’m freezing my ass off!
(Two elves open the door. Cornelius enters with the Abominable)
Cornelius: Where are the bastards who left me out to die?! There you are! Thanks a lot, assholes. Just for that, I ought to let Bumble here eat your asses. Oh, and by the way, check this shit out.
(The Abominable puts a star on the tree. Everyone claps)
Cornelius: Oh, yeah. You clap for him, but leave me out to die. Jerks.
Rudolph: But we saw you go over the cliff!
Cornelius: Did you notice it was only about a twenty foot drop? You might have, if you had bothered to peep over the edge. But no, everyone was ready to split the second I fell to my death.
Hermey: I looked over—
Sam: Well, everyone was swimming around in a pot of tea, but it was no time for celebrating. The next day is Christmas Eve, and everyone needed to be busy as shit.
Mrs. Claus: Eat, you anorexic bastard.
Santa: Lay off me, woman. That silly elf song is making me want to put a bullet through my skull.
Mrs. Claus: You’re going to disappoint the children. They expect a big, fat fucker as always.
Elf: Latest weather report, sir.
Santa: Well, that’s too bad. The storm won’t subside by tonight. We’ll have to cancel Christmas.
Mrs. Claus: (in a high falsetto) Ooh, it’s snowing! I’m Santa Claus, I don’t want to get my little tootsies cold!
Santa: That’s it. I want a divorce. And I’m glad we have to cancel Christmas this year, because the kids have all been little shits. Plus, they all just want iPhones and guns.
(Santa walks into the room where everyone is dancing around)
Santa: Quiet, everyone! Shut the fuck up! I’ve got some bad news. Christmas is going to be canceled. This storm is a real bitch, and there’s no way I can see—
(Rudolphs nose glows wildly)
Santa: Rudolph! Rudolph, please! Can you get your fucking nose out of my face? I mean —wait! That nose! That beautiful fucking nose!
Rudolph: Huh?
Santa: Rudolph, Christmas is not off, and you’re going to lead my team!
Rudolph: I am?
Santa: Yes, sir. You and that wonderful nose of yours.
Rudolph: My nose, sir?
Santa: Jesus, what are you, fucking retarded? Your nose, shit-for-brains! It glows! What I’m trying to say is, Rudolph, with your nose so bright, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?
Rudolph: Oh, I get it. First I’m some kind of fucking mutant, and now all of a sudden… aw, fuck it, why not.
Comet: If they let that bastard drive, the whole thing will go down in flames, I’m telling you.
Sam: (singing) Have a great big homo Christmas, it’s the gayest time of year
I don’t believe you when you say you’re not a great big queer
Have a great big homo Christmas, and when you walk down the street
Don’t forget to wear tight pants and show off your bag of meat
Ho, ho, you great big ‘ho, hung just like a mule
Now’s the time to dance around and wave that giant tool
Have a great big homo Christmas, and in case you didn’t hear
Oh by golly have a great big homo Christmas, you queer!
(Back on the Island of Fucked-Up Toys)
Charlie: Well, it’s Christmas Eve, but… looks like we’re fucked, as usual.
Dolly: But Rudolph promised we’d go this time!
Charlie: What? I don’t remember him saying that. Plus, King Hellraiser isn’t letting you go anywhere, you little slut.
(In the distance, jingle bells ring)
Charlie: Might just as well shoot up a bunch of heroin and go to sleep for as long as possible.
Dolly: Not tonight. I traded all our scag for a cell phone that didn’t have a cracked faceplate. What’s up with that? Every junkie I know has a fucked-up phone.
(Jingle bells get louder)
Some other toy: Wait a minute! What’s that? Is it… Is it…
Charlie: Spit it out, asshole! Oh, look, it’s Santa, and Rudolph is leading the way. Maybe we’re going to escape this shithole, after all.
(All the toys gather round excitedly as Santa arrives)
Santa: Good grief, Rudolph wasn’t kidding. This is worse than the toy section at T.J. Maxx. Hop aboard, you little shits.
(All the toys scramble onto Santa’s sleigh)
Santa: Rudolph, get us out of here before I change my mind and dump all this crap into the ocean. Up, up, and away!
(The sleigh takes off, and elves start throwing toys over the side willy-nilly)
Sam: Well, folks, it’s time to get loaded and watch porn. As for the rest of the story…
(singing) He went down on Santa’s team!
Rudolph the Fucked-Up Reindeer
Was born with a big, glowing beak
And if you ever saw him
You would know that he’s a freak
All of the other reindeer
Were just a bunch of local hicks
The ostracized poor Rudolph
Because they were great big dicks
Then one drunken Christmas Eve
Santa came to say,
“Rudolph, ya freak, what do you say?
Won’t you guide this fucking sleigh?”
Then how the reindeer loathed him
As they plotted his demise
Later on that evening
They gouged out Rudolph’s eyes!
Santa: Ho ho ho! Suck on that, jerks!
THE END
copyright 2019 by Peter B. Wilkins
Peter Wilkins made this 