Last modified on 9 April 2014, at 10:56

Bad Santa

Bad Santa is a 2003 film about a miserable con man and his partner who 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.

Directed by Terry Zwigoff. Written by Glenn Ficarra and John Requa.
He's very naughty . . . and not very nice. (taglines)


WillieEdit

  • I said, "Next," goddamn it! This is not the DMV!
  • I've been to prison once, I've been married - twice. I was once drafted by Lyndon Johnson and had to live in shit-ass Mexico for 2-1/2 years for no reason. I've had my eye socket punched in, a kidney taken out and I got a bone-chip in my ankle that's never gonna heal. I've seen some pretty shitty situations in my life, but nothing has ever sucked more ass than this!
  • Yeah, baby! Yeah, baby! You ain't gonna shit right for a WEEK!
  • "Wish in one hand, shit in the other and see which one fills up first."

DialogueEdit

Marcus: It won't happen again. I can promise you that. Willie here has low blood sugar. That's all.
Willie: That's right. I forgot to take my pill.
Bob Chipeska: It's not just the swearing. Forgive me for prying, but did one of you, um, fornicate...
Willie: Fornicate?
Bob Chipeska: Yes. With a heavy-set woman in the big-and-tall dressing room?
Willie: Look, I've boned a lot of fat chicks in my time, sure. But, as far back as I can remember, I've never fornicated anybody.
Bob Chipeska: Yes... Well, even still, I think it's best for all parties considered if we...
Marcus: If we what?
Bob Chipeska: Well, I have somebody else interested in the position.
Willie: Before you do something stupid you might want to think about this shit.
Bob Chipeska: What are you talking about?
Willie: I'm talking about firing a little black midget. A small, colored, African-American small person. That's what I'm talking about. I'm talking about your face all over goddamn USA Today, that's what I'm talking about. I'm talking about 150 of these little motherfuckers all over the sidewalk out there. Holding picket signs and using bullhorns and shit like that. Screaming and hollering your name out. Unfair practices, get me?
Bob Chipeska: Oh no, this is not a handicapped thing. I have nothing against you people.
Willie: You people? Did you hear that Marcus? He said 'You People.'
Marcus: Who the hell is us people?
Bob Chipeska: No... He said... But... what... No no. Um, I think it's best if we just forget we had this conversation.
Willie: Good thinking. And don't worry about us. We'll be fine. Let's get the hell out of here Marcus.
[Willie and Marcus get up to leave as Willie turns back to Bob]
Willie: You're pathetic.

Marcus: More booze, more bullshit, more butt-fucking
Willie: Sure, the 3 B's.

Sue: You're pretty regular for a Santa.
Willie: It's not that big a fucking deal. It's just a job, you know what I mean? I'm just an eating, drinking, fucking Santy Claus.
Sue: Prove it.
[cut to them having sex]
Sue: Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa. Fuck me, Santa!
Willy: Can't I at least take this hat off?
Sue: No. I love the hat.
Willy: Okay.
Sue: Whoo! I've always had a thing for Santa Claus. In case you didn't notice. It's like some deep-seated childhood thing.
Willie: So is my thing for tits.

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!

[Willie has just passed out]
Gin: Look here, get him 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!

Willie: You know, I think I've turned a corner.
Marcus: Yeah? You fucking petites now?
Willie: No, I'm not talking about that. I beat the shit out of some kids today. But it was for a purpose. It made me feel good about myself. It was like I did something constructive with my life or something, I dunno, like I accomplished something.
Marcus: You need many years of therapy. Many, many fuckin' years of therapy.

TaglinesEdit

  • He's very naughty . . . and not very nice.
  • He doesn't care if you're naughty or nice.
  • Get Naughty this Holiday Season.

CastEdit

External linksEdit

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